Savannah Law

by William Eleazer

  “I am, Your Honor. And Senator Harrison is providing the funds for the defense of his son. I am not at liberty to go into the details or cause of the estrangement, but they have not seen each other or even spoken since a few months after John Harrison graduated from Princeton three years ago. The son took up residence in Panama City Beach, Florida, working variously as a clerk in a convenience store and as a waiter in a beach restaurant. Senator Harrison sought the whereabouts of his son for over three years without success. Over the Labor Day weekend, Senator Harrison learned that his son may be the ‘John Harrison’ who was awaiting trial in Savannah on armed robbery charges. Senator Harrison wanted to assist him, but he didn’t know if his son would accept his assistance. Working through an intermediary, he learned that the ‘John Harrison’ awaiting trial was, in fact, his son and, further, that his son would be grateful for his help. Senator Harrison engaged Mr. Max Gordon of Chicago, Illinois, and Mr. Gordon has filed his Notice of Appearance with the clerk. I would like to introduce Mr. Gordon. Mr. Gordon, perhaps you would like to state your bar membership and qualifications.”

  Gordon stood, but before he could speak, Judge Desano said, “That won’t be necessary. I am quite aware of Mr. Gordon. In fact, Mr. Gordon, you have been in my court before, haven’t you?”

  “Correct, Judge, but I’m willing to forget that appearance if you are,” Gordon said, cocking his head sideways with a forced grin on his face.

  Judge Desano ignored the remark. “Mr. Ellis, have you turned over all your files relating to the defense in this case?” he asked.

  “I have, Your Honor. We met for over an hour in my office. Of course, if I find anything else that is pertinent to the defense, I will see that Mr. Gordon receives it. And I have filed my request to withdraw as attorney in this case with the clerk of court.”

  The judge turned to the defendant. “Mr. Harrison, are you satisfied with Mr. Gordon now taking over your defense in this case?”

  “Yes, sir,” said the defendant.

  “Based on representation of counsel and with the stated concurrence of the accused, I am relieving Mr. Ellis of his duties as counsel. The Office of the Public Defender will have no further responsibility in this case. As of now, Mr. Wilder, you will serve all pleadings in this case on Mr. Gordon or his local counsel. This case is scheduled to resume at 9 a.m. tomorrow. Does either counsel have anything further before we adjourn?”

  Mr. Gordon was rising from his seat before the judge completed his sentence. He had a severe frown on his face. “Judge, we can’t possibly be ready for this case tomorrow. My team will not even be in place until the end of the week.”

  “Your team? Apparently your PR team is already in place. My bailiff informs me that WTOC-TV called at one-thirty to see what time the hearing in the Harrison case would start, and they are already setting up outside. What can you tell me about that, Mr. Gordon? Did you already issue a news release?”

  “Your Honor, I did. But I gave strict orders to the press and the news channels that it was not for release until tomorrow, after this hearing. And all the release said was the name of the defendant and that I would be handling the case. I did not reveal that the defendant was the son of Senator Harrison. It was WTOC that picked up on the high-profile nature of this case. Apparently, WTOC jumped the gun.”

  “No, Mr. Gordon, you jumped the gun. This case is not going to be tried in the media. Don’t make me issue a gag order. I don’t like to police gag orders, and you wouldn’t like the way I police them. I expect you to control your so-called team. Now, are you asking for additional time to prepare this case?”

  “Of course, Judge. No way we can be ready tomorrow. I will be filing papers as soon as I can have them prepared, requesting that the trial be postponed until December, or later.”

  “What will be the state’s position on this request, Mr. Wilder?”

  “We absolutely oppose any delay in this trial, Your Honor. The defense asked for a speedy trial, and we busted our... well, we have worked very hard to get this case ready for trial today. We oppose any further delay.”

  “Let me save you some work on preparing papers requesting further delay, Mr. Gordon,” said Judge Desano. “This case goes to trial either tomorrow morning or this coming Monday. Your choice. We are on the record, and the court reporter will record your choice. What will it be?”

  “Monday, and since we are on the record,” said Gordon, “let the record reflect my objection to having to make this choice. No attorney should have to prepare an armed robbery trial in six days. That is unconscionable, and I will renew my objection in any appeal that may result from this case.”

  “Well, you just do that, Mr. Gordon. And you make sure you have your team in place and ready for trial Monday. Speaking of your team, who have you engaged as your local attorney—who’s sponsoring your appearance?”

  “I haven’t engaged any local counsel, Your Honor. Since Mr. Ellis was on this case already, I assumed no additional local counsel would be necessary. That’s the way we do it in Chicago and most other jurisdictions where I’ve tried cases. And that includes about twenty different states.”

  “Well, you assumed wrong. Mr. Ellis is no longer on this case, and you are not a member of the Georgia Bar, are you, Mr. Gordon?”

  “No, Your Honor, but I have tried cases in Georgia courts— several in Atlanta and one here in Savannah. I’m quite familiar with Georgia criminal court procedure.”

  “You are not saying that case you had here three years ago demonstrated your knowledge of Georgia procedure, are you, Mr. Gordon?”

  “I prefer not to comment on that, Judge. I just request that I be allowed to bring in my team to try this case without local counsel, if you will permit that.”

  “Have you filed the appropriate papers to appear pro hac vice, both with this court and the General Counsel of the Georgia Bar?”

  “The General Counsel of the Georgia Bar?”

  “Yes, the General Counsel. Are you familiar with Superior Court Rule 4.4, Mr. Gordon?”

  “I believe I have a copy, Your Honor.”

  “That wasn’t my question. Are you having a problem understanding the question?”

  “No, Your Honor. I’m vaguely familiar with the rule; my team is working on it.”

  “You—and not, as you say, your team—should have already complied with the rule. You need to get a corrected Notice of Appearance filed ASAP—one that complies with Rule 4.4. And let me be clear on one thing: I’m not about to let you try this case without local counsel. In fact, unless you align yourself with local counsel in the next twenty-four hours, you’re off this case and Mr. Ellis is going to try it. This case is going to trial Monday, with or without you. Do both of you understand that?”

  “I do,” replied Sidney.

  “And I do also, Judge,” said Gordon. “I apologize for the mix-up. I’ll obtain local counsel today.”

  “You make sure your local counsel can be in my courtroom to begin trial at 9 a.m. Monday. There will be no delays to accommodate the attorney’s schedule. And have the attorney provide a copy of his or her Notice of Appearance with Mr. Wilder just as soon as it’s filed with the clerk. Now, do you have any other matters for the court?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. Bail. The defendant is still in jail, awaiting this trial. His bail was set at $100,000. We request he be released on his own recognizance, without having to post bail. This young man’s father is running for governor of Georgia, after a distinguished career as a United States senator. The defendant will be in the limelight of the press every waking minute of every day. He poses no risk of fleeing. He poses no threat or danger to any person, the community, or to property. And if you can’t release him without bail, then we request his bail be substantially reduced. For someone who poses no significant risk of flight and no threat to the community, bail of $100,000 is excessive and unconstitutional.”

  Gordon took his seat and Judge Desano looked at Grady for a response.

  “Your
Honor,” replied Grady, “Mr. Gordon suggests that this defendant does not pose a flight risk. Perhaps we should call his father to testify about that. Mr. Ellis has told us David Harrison had sought the whereabouts of his son for three years. In three years, with all the resources he could muster, he could not find his son. We have been given no reason for his disappearance for three years. But we know why he would go into hiding now, should he be released. Upon conviction for armed robbery, he faces a minimum of ten years in prison. Let me emphasize, that is a minimum of ten years’ imprisonment, and under Georgia penal statutes, no chance of early release. Common sense and logic says this three-year truant from his family is a serious risk to flee. He has proved he can hide. We emphatically oppose any bail reduction.”

  “Motion for bail reduction denied. Anything further, Mr. Gordon?”

  “We ask that you reconsider your denial of our request for more time to prepare for trial.”

  “Denied. Court is adjourned until Monday, 9 a.m.” Judge Desano stood, gathered his papers, and departed from the courtroom.

  A bailiff walked over to the defendant and escorted him out. Max Gordon and Sidney Ellis followed. Once outside in the courtroom corridor, Gordon requested that the bailiff stop for a moment so that he could have a brief conference with his client. The bailiff stopped just long enough to tell Gordon that he could not authorize such a conference. However, the stop was long enough for Gordon to snap a photo of his client with a small digital camera. The bailiff looked annoyed but said nothing and quickly moved his prisoner along.

  Ellis reacted with surprise. “What’s with the photo shoot?” he asked Gordon.

  “My standard procedure,” replied Gordon. “You never know when you may need a current photo of a client.”

  Scott observed the photo session at a distance. He thought it a bit strange, but the trial had taken a curious twist from the start: Sidney Ellis is “fired,” Max Gordon is “Sneak” Gordon, and the indigent defendant turns out to be the son of a prominent—and very wealthy—politician.

  In the courtroom, Grady remained standing but was silent for several minutes. Then he slowly began gathering his books and papers from the table. It was obvious to Scott that he was concerned, even stunned, by the sudden change of events. Scott and Richard waited for Grady to speak.

  When he did, he merely said, to no one in particular, “Houston, we have a problem.”

  “Meaning what?” asked Scott.

  “Meaning the office has a problem. I won’t be here to try this case, and someone is going to have to step in and step in fast. My first day at the U.S. Attorney’s office in Atlanta is Monday. This was to be my last case here.”

  “Could you delay the Atlanta job for a week? You’ve got this one prepared, and it promises to be in the media spotlight,” said Scott.

  “Media spotlight? You’ve got that right. Gordon will attempt to try this in the media, for sure. But you know, Scott, in most cases, it doesn’t really help the defense. In fact, I think it hurts most cases, but some criminal defense lawyers try all their cases in the media. Gordon is one of them, and he will keep it there. I doubt that this case will get underway Monday. If I could be sure, I might request a few more days here. But I’m not going to. I know Desano says it’s going Monday, but I expect something to come up to delay it. Nick’s going to have to reassign it... probably to Meg Flanders. I hope you can help her. Are you available next week?”

  “Of course. One good thing about this delay is that maybe we can get Josh Johnson back.”

  Richard Evans had been listening and spoke up. “I’ll call Thayler. We’ve already sent a check for witness fees and made airline reservations. We can update the reservations and maybe get him here Monday or Tuesday.”

  “Good,” said Grady. “Now, let’s get back to the office. I need to let Nick know that his friend ‘Sneak’ is back in town.”

  “You seem to know ‘Sneak.’ What’s the story?” asked Scott, as they began to slowly walk from the courtroom to the elevator.

  “I know of him. I’ve never had a case against him, but he defended a case here a few years ago. Nick was the prosecutor, but I followed the case pretty closely. The name ‘Sneak’ is his calling card. He earned it at Notre Dame, and he’s proud of it.”

  “Proud of it?”

  “You bet. Do you follow Notre Dame football, Scott?”

  “Somewhat. I’m more into the Southeastern Conference, but I have a subscription to Sports Illustrated, so, yes, I guess I follow Notre Dame football.”

  “So you’re aware of the Michigan–Notre Dame rivalry?”

  “Sure, one of the oldest.”

  “Well, that little plum-shaped defense counsel, with the pink handkerchief hanging from his coat pocket, played in one of those games.”

  “He played football—for Notre Dame? You’re putting me on.”

  “No, he was on the Notre Dame football team in the late 1960s or early 70s. Small running back, third team or so. He rarely got in the game, but he had one great play in his college career— against Michigan. Gordon got the ball and somehow squeezed through the defensive line to score, and Notre Dame went on to win the game. The announcer raved about it being a great sneak through the Michigan line, and that’s where the ‘Sneak’ nickname came from. The nickname should have been forgotten as soon a he graduated, but he wouldn’t let it. He made sure everyone remembered ‘Sneak’ Gordon.”

  “OK,” said Scott. “He likes the name, but now, over thirty years later, no one remembers his football days, and the name ‘Sneak’ is hardly one to be proud of. I would think he would be embarrassed to call himself ‘Sneak.’ But that’s how he introduced himself: ‘Sneak’ Gordon. That’s weird.”

  “Not when you hear him in court. He gets into his name during jury selection. ‘My name is Max Gordon,’ he says, ‘but everyone calls me Sneak.’ Of course, that’s not true. Very few people remember his nickname, and fewer call him by it. But he continues, ‘I want to make sure none of you will hold that name against me, so I want to explain where that name came from.’ Then he goes on to tell about his sneak through the Michigan line and how the name stuck.”

  “Prosecutors and judges let him get away with that hokum?” asked Scott.

  They were now at the elevators, but they stopped to continue the conversation. Several elevators arrived, opened their doors, and departed as they stood talking.

  “I don’t know. As far as I know, he’s only tried that one case here in Savannah. Multimillion-dollar drug bust. Nick Cox was the prosecutor. It was at least three years ago. Defendant was from Colombia, South America. The feds wanted him, but the locals arrested him and wanted first crack at him, so we took him to trial here first. Want to guess who the judge was?”

  “Desano?”

  “Good guess. And do you know how the trial ended?”

  “No clue. But I gathered from the repartee between Desano and Gordon that Desano was not pleased with something.”

  “Pleased? Desano went into a rage at Gordon when the trial ended, and he showed today that he’s still pissed.”

  “Why?” asked Scott.

  “Desano doesn’t forgive or forget. Escobar, the defendant, was in jail custody for trial, but his defense counsel, Gordon, made sure he appeared at trial dressed in the standard defendant attire: blue polyester suit and red tie. On the first day of trial, during a break in jury selection, the defendant just disappeared. Gone—without a trace. The newspaper carried a story on it every day for two weeks. Desano was embarrassed. And apparently he thought Gordon had some part in the disappearance. A big investigation followed. Other than finding fault with two deputies—who blamed each other— no one was really held accountable. But the newspaper criticized everyone: the judge, the prosecutor, the defense counsel, even the clerk of court. Everybody connected with the case.”

  “They ever catch him?”

  “Not that I know of. But I haven’t followed it since then. In fact, until Gordon appeared in court today
I haven’t thought much about it. But I can guarantee he will pull that football crap on the jury again. He always does.”

  “Always does? You said he’s only tried that one case here in Savannah.”

  “True, but USA Today did a feature series on him—‘Max Gordon, America’s Most Successful Trial Lawyer,’ or something like that. You can probably find it in the newspaper’s archives on the Internet. He always tries to get that football story before the jury. Juries love that kind of talk. They are usually laughing by the time he finishes his story. The articles detail how he talks to the jury about his great sneak through the Michigan line. A self-deprecating story with great gusto—body language and all. Of course, he ends up being the hero, but it’s funny. Anytime the defense can get a jury laughing, it’s ahead of the game. Damn few really amused juries convict, and defense attorneys know it. Max Gordon has perfected it.”

  When the next elevator arrived, they got in for the ride to the sixth floor. Grady asked Scott to come with him to Nick Cox’s office to brief him on the afternoon hearing.

  “You want the good news or the bad news first?” asked Grady.

  “Bad news. I always want the bad news first,” replied Nick.

  “The Harrison case has been continued. Defendant has a new lawyer.”

  “And the good news?”

  “Sorry, I don’t have any good news. The new lawyer is Max Gordon, hired by the defendant’s father, Senator David Harrison. Gordon’s bringing his team to town and already has the attention of the press and TV.”

  “Son of Senator Harrison on trial and fucking Max Gordon defending! No, that doesn’t make me happy. And it’s not going to make the boss happy.”

  “Desano’s not too happy, either.”

  “Desano’s case?” asked Nick.

  “Yes, and he’s going to start the trial Monday. Gordon asked for a delay, but Desano was adamant: Monday at nine.”

  “Damn, I’d like to have another crack at Gordon,” said Nick. “I still believe his team orchestrated that escape by Escobar. But I’ve got a murder trial starting Monday. What are the chances we could get the case postponed? Apparently, this is what the defense wants. We could both submit written motions to Desano for a continuance until sometime in October or November, or even December.”