Final Verdict

by William Bernhardt

  “Dinah, since you’ve been studying motions practice, maybe you can help Jimmy—”

  Jimmy cut him off mid-sentence. “She’s not going to help Jimmy do anything.”

  “I didn’t think you mind a helper when—”

  “Jimmy isn’t doing anything. I refuse to work on this case.”

  “Jimmy...”

  “I won’t lift a finger for that disgusting, evil man. In fact—” He marched toward the staircase. “I don’t know if I can continue to be a member of this firm. This is not what I signed up for.” He marched upward. “You people are not who I thought you were.”

  He disappeared from sight.

  Dan sighed. “He’ll get over it.”

  Garrett shook his head. “I’m not so sure. He and Shawna are close. And Sweeney destroyed her life.”

  “He’ll come around.” I hope. “In the meantime, Dinah...this just became a great hands-on learning experience for you.”

  “Dinah, I’ve drafted lots of motions,” Maria said. “I know the drill. When you have questions, just ask.”

  “Thank you.” Dinah seemed restless. He understood. She liked being part of a family. And hated seeing the family torn apart. “I’m sure I’ll have lots.”

  “Got your back, girlfriend.”

  “This is going to be difficult,” Dan said. “This may be our greatest challenge. The defining case of our careers. But I think we’re doing the right thing.”

  “And if you’re wrong?” Maria asked.

  He paused. “Let’s just get to work...”

  Chapter 10

  Tulip had no idea how long she’d been walking, but it seemed like an eternity.

  The heat was relentless. Her entire body was slick with sweat. The torn remains of her clothing offered precious little protection against this harsh, killing environment. Every step was an ordeal. Every breath was an effort. The sun baked her brain, made thinking a misery and consciousness a mirage.

  How much longer could she survive?

  She remembered waking to find a man preparing to kill her. That memory was indelibly etched into her consciousness. After she killed him, she began her search for the car. She found it, though it took hours. The keyless lock worked and let her inside.

  But the car wouldn’t start. The engine wouldn’t turn over, no matter how many times she tried. Was it the heat? Had he left the car running, thinking he’d be back soon? Did sand get into the engine? She didn’t know enough about cars to guess.

  She sat in the driver’s seat, silently begging, trying to will the car into action. She pounded her head against the steering wheel. Tears streamed from her eyes. She was surprised she contained enough moisture to make tears. They came unbidden, and it was a long time before they stopped.

  All right. She tried to pull herself together. Plan B. There must be something of use in here, and indeed, she found three bottles of Aquafina in the back seat. That wouldn’t last long, but it was better than nothing. In the trunk, she found a packet of cheese crackers and a half-empty bag of almonds. Her would-be killer’s idea of a healthy meal? Probably something grabbed in haste at a gas station. Whatever. She was glad to find it.

  She hoped the car would have a first aid kit. Or maybe a map. But she never found anything else of use. And the car didn’t seem to be on a road or near one, at least not that she could see. Had the man driven off the road to avoid witnesses? The wind had covered the car’s tracks. She couldn’t tell where or what direction it came from. At best, she could make a vague guess based on the car’s position.

  She spent the first night in the car to protect herself from the cold, but ultimately, she knew if she stayed there she’d die of thirst or starvation. She left the car behind and started walking with no clear path and she’d been walking ever since. Judging from the position of the sun, she could estimate which direction was south. The man had said they were north of Vegas. Assuming he wasn’t lying, if she just kept moving in a southerly direction...

  The complete absence of landmarks made accurate navigation impossible. No roads. No signs. No distinctive markers. Just desert.

  She couldn’t be that far from civilization, could she? He mentioned a private airport. Surely that was near Vegas. And then he drove her off to escape prying eyes. He didn’t have to travel hours to do that.

  She hoped.

  She just needed to find someone. Something. Anything. A gas station. A store. Weren’t there some military bases in this area? Surely, eventually, someone would see her.

  The night proved even more unbearable than the day. Given how hellishly hot she’d been, she could never have imagined the night could be so cold. But it was. She shivered and quaked and could not control her body for hours. Baking in the sun was bad but freezing in the cold was worse. She thought she was suffering from exposure, and she wasn’t sure that ended just because, at long last, the sun rose. She had never felt such excruciating misery in her entire life.

  She had once been so proud of her skin. She had gorgeous, lustrous opaline skin. Men talked about how smooth and clear her skin was. Baby soft, without blemish. But she knew she would never hear that again. Even if she managed to survive this, her skin would never recover. She could feel sores on her face. It was hot and painful to the touch. Regardless of what the future held, she was ruined.

  Her feet were worse. Her shoes provided negligible protection from the burning sands. Her feet blistered. She felt weak and wobbly, knees shaking with each step.

  She couldn’t keep this up forever. That much was certain.

  She heard something—a loud noise—in the distance. Her head jerked up. It sounded like...

  She wasn’t sure.

  In truth, she wasn’t even sure she heard it. Maybe she just wanted to hear it. Maybe it was an audio mirage.

  She strained her wet and blurry eyes, scanning the horizon. Was anything there?

  Please, she murmured beneath her breath. Please let something be there. She wiped salty water from her eyes, trying to see more clearly.

  Nothing appeared.

  She collapsed in a heap, tumbling to the sand.

  She lay there for several minutes, until the sand burned her arms and legs.

  She tried to push herself to her feet, but she had nothing left.

  Except she still had that man’s gun. As hot as it was, she’d kept it. And she knew it had at least one more bullet...

  No. She clenched her teeth and pushed herself up once more.

  That was what they wanted. They thought she was weak. They thought she could be eliminated. But she was stronger than that. She was a woman, a tough woman, and she wasn’t going to let this cabal of men eliminate her. She was going to fight those pigs to her dying breath. She would find a way out of this hellhole.

  She wiped the sand from her eyes, took a deep breath of the humid air, and started walking again.

  Chapter 11

  Dan entered the courtroom as quickly as possible. He did not want to attract attention. He spotted a few reporters in the hallway and one shouted a question, but he ignored it. Right now, he didn’t care to be interviewed.

  Sweeney was already in the courtroom, flanked by two marshals. Since there was no jury today, they left him in jailhouse coveralls. His wrists were handcuffed and attached to a belly chain in front. His ankle irons ensured that he couldn’t go very far very fast.

  Prudence sat in the courtroom just behind the rail, as close to her boss as she could get without being arrested.

  Dan approached the table and signaled the marshals that they could leave the accused in his recognizance. Not that they would leave the room. But they would maintain a discreet distance. Sweeney wasn’t likely to make a break for it.

  “How’s jail treating you?” Dan said, taking the chair beside his client. The awkwardness was intense, even palpable.

  “The usual. Scorn, insults, and the occasional attempt on my life.”

  “Can’t you do something about that, Pike?” Prudence leaned across t
he railing. “You are his lawyer.”

  “I can try to get him out on bail. But I won’t succeed.”

  “He’s willing to wear an electronic bracelet.”

  “I’ll make the offer. But...”

  “At least get him moved to solitary. Someplace safe.”

  “That’s a decision for the jailhouse authorities. Judges don’t normally interfere. I could file some kind of habeas corpus petition. But it wouldn’t work. I’d probably have more luck getting this case tried quickly than getting a habeas corpus motion heard in federal court.”

  Her lips thinned. “Why do I feel you aren’t giving this case your all?”

  “Because you’re used to getting your way. Immediately.” He gave his client some side-eye. “You think bluster and bullying can get you anything you want. But it doesn’t always work that way. Especially in the courts.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw the prosecutor enter the courtroom.

  Jazlyn Prentice. Tall, well-dressed, two earrings in the left ear. Lapel pin with the scales of justice. Jazlyn had been his friend for years. He helped her adopt Esperanza, her ten-year-old daughter. They first met when she was an associate DA, and now she ran the whole office.

  Which made it surprising that she was here in person. Surely this preliminary stuff was too trivial for someone of her stature.

  “Jazlyn, what—”

  She pointedly turned her back to him and walked the other direction as if she hadn’t heard.

  That was disturbing.

  “Feeling snubbed?” Sweeney asked.

  Dan bit down on his lower lip. Thank you, Sweeney, for reminding me why I despise you. “She’s busy.”

  “She’s giving you the cold shoulder.”

  “The prosecutor and the defense attorney don’t normally socialize much.”

  “But you and Ms. Prentice do. You went to her daughter’s birthday party. I believe you two even dated a little, right?”

  Dan slowly turned his head. He knew the man had investigated him, but this was just showing off.

  “Get used to it,” Sweeney said calmly. “I’m currently out of favor, and that means anyone associated with me will be treated with scorn. You’ll survive.”

  Dan kept his thoughts to himself. But I don’t want to survive this. I want everyone to love me...

  The bailiff called the court to order and Judge Smulders entered the courtroom. When Dan first heard Smulders had been assigned this case, he couldn’t believe it. Smulders had handled the Ossie Coleman case, and his combination of immaturity and ineptitude almost derailed the defense. People didn’t believe it when Dan told them about the judge’s indecisive actions. They naively believed that no one that green would be assigned a capital murder trial. But in this jurisdiction, cases were randomly assigned by the clerk’s computer. The idea that a judge had to be “death qualified” or have some elevated degree of experience was a myth.

  Smulders took his seat at the bench. Late thirties. Tousled blond hair. Gnawed fingernails. But at least he had his robe on straight.

  Smulders called the case. “I will ask my clerk—”

  “Waive the reading,” Dan said. Always rude to interrupt, but no one wanted to hear that rigmarole.

  “Very well,” the judge said. “How does your client plead?”

  “Absolutely not guilty on all charges,” Sweeney said, rising. “And grossly offended that the state would proceed with no evidence whatsoever tying me to this crime.”

  “I will enter a plea of not guilty,” the judge said.

  Jazlyn spoke. “Your honor, I can assure the court that we have—”

  Smulders cut her off. “No need, counsel. In the seemingly unlikely event that you lack evidence tying the defendant to the crime, he won’t be bound over and you certainly won’t prevail.”

  Cool and in control. The little boy had grown up since Dan saw this judge last.

  Smulders straightened some papers. “Are there any other matters we can take up while we’re gathered together, counsel?”

  Dan braced himself. “Your honor, I’d like to ask the court to set bail.”

  The judge gave him a long look. “Seriously?”

  “There is precedent for permitting bail in a capital case.”

  “Not much.”

  “But—some.”

  “Your honor,” Jazlyn said, “the defendant has been charged with murder in the first degree. We have already begun convening a grand jury and expect to ask for the death penalty. Plus the defendant is the subject of several state and federal investigations—”

  “Not relevant,” Dan intoned.

  “But true,” Jazlyn continued. “Parts of a dismembered corpse were found in the defendant’s private mancave, and if the court puts him back on the street, the public outcry will be deafening.”

  “Should the court’s rulings be based upon public outcry?” Judge Smulders asked.

  “Well, no...”

  “Then would you care to make a legal argument?”

  Jazlyn cleared her throat, her face slightly flushed. “Although the defendant’s financial empire may be crumbling, we believe he still has access to funds, so he’s a flight risk. He’s believed to be involved with a Central American cartel, so the chance for more violence is very real.”

  “Everything she says is supposition based upon rumor,” Dan replied. “Where are the facts? Does she have evidence about the defendant’s financial situation? Can she prove a connection to a criminal organization? She’s basically asking you to keep my client in jail based upon gossip.”

  Smulders nodded. “The man does have a point.”

  “Then let me make a point, too,” Jazlyn snapped. “This city will be much safer if the defendant remains behind bars. And we’re more likely to have a fair trial, too.”

  Judge Smulders pushed back in his chair. “The traditional judicial policy in this jurisdiction is not to allow bail in first-degree murder cases, so I’m going to follow that precedent. Is there anything else?”

  Dan cleared his throat. “We want to move this case along without undue delay, so I’d like to see what the prosecution has at the earliest opportunity. Exculpatory evidence. Everything.”

  “We have procedures in place governing this,” Jazlyn replied. “As my extremely experienced opponent knows full well. He will see the evidence at the appropriate time.”

  “And there you have it,” the judge said. “Anything else?”

  “My client requests the earliest possible trial setting.”

  “My docket is relatively clear,” Smulders said. “That might be earlier than you realize. Are you sure that’s what you want? These are serious charges.”

  Dan drew in his breath. “It’s what my client wants. And given the court’s denial of bail...who can blame him?”

  “Objections from the state?”

  “None,” Jazlyn said. “The evidence is clear-cut. We could be ready tomorrow.”

  “Very well. I’ll ask my clerk to set this down for the earliest possible trial date. But let me warn you that when that date arrives, counsel, I won’t be interested in excuses for why you’re not ready. You asked for an early setting. You live with it.”

  “Understood, your honor.”

  “Will there be anything else?”

  Dan had a hunch he should keep his mouth shut, but Defense 101 said you never missed an opportunity to bend the judge’s ear and teach him about your case, even if it was premature. Might make the argument more readily understood when the proper time came. “Your honor, we will move to exclude the fruits of the illegal search made by a police officer in a room in my client’s office.”

  “That would be the aforementioned mancave,” Jazlyn explained.

  “It was a private room,” Dan added. “They did not have a warrant to search.”

  “Your client invited them in. He opened the door with a fingerprint ID.”

  “But he did not grant them permission to search the premises.”

 
“Did he think they were wearing blindfolds? He knew both Detective Kakazu and Sergeant Pemberton were experienced officers.”

  “He did not invite them or grant permission to open the freezer. And that’s where the evidence was found.”

  “Dismembered pieces of evidence,” Jazlyn muttered.

  “Since they had no right to search the freezer and were never invited to do so, I move to exclude all evidence found within. And without that, the prosecution has no case.”

  “I disagree,” Jazlyn said. “The idea that we should exclude evidence that literally fell into a police officer’s lap is beyond ridiculous. While we’re at it, why don’t we ignore the fact that another body flew out the defendant’s window shortly before?”

  “That is not relevant to this case,” Dan insisted.

  “Unless you think common sense is relevant.”

  “You haven’t even charged my client for that incident.”

  “Doesn’t mean we won’t.”

  “He didn’t commit either crime.”

  “Then he’s the Typhoid Mary of Murder.”

  The judge banged his gavel. “Get a grip on yourselves, counsel.”

  They both fell silent.

  Smulders pointed the gavel at Dan. “This is not the time to raise a suppression motion, as you know. First, you exchange evidence. Then, if you still think you have a motion, bring it up at the pretrial. But let me caution you. If you’re bringing a motion just because you think you have to bring a motion, don’t bother. I have no patience for frivolous motions practice.”

  Dan sensed the judge was telling him to shut up and he probably should. But he wasn’t quite done. “Your honor, every day my client is behind bars, not only is his life a misery, but he is literally in danger. He—”

  Judge Smulders looked at him sternly. “Counsel...did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes, your honor, but—”

  “There is no but. I told you to bring it up at the pretrial. Which, given the early trial date you’ve requested, will not be that long from now. Is there anything else?”