The Last Chance Lawyer

by William Bernhardt

  The judge’s dour expression did not change. “Given the seriousness of the charges, and the importance of this witness’ testimony to the prosecution case, I will allow this...demonstration.”

  He pounced. “Thank you. Mr. Herrin, I will ask you to remove your contact lenses and put on your reading glasses.”

  Herrin hesitated. “I... don’t have a contact case to put them in.”

  “As it happens, I have one here.” He winked. “May I approach, your honor?

  The judge nodded.

  A minute later, Herrin was wearing his reading glasses and ready to proceed.

  “Mr. Herrin, I placed five men in various locations on the next to last row of the gallery of this courtroom. As it happens, the distance between where you’re sitting and where they are now sitting is almost exactly forty-six feet.” He paused like a good game show host, allowing suspense to build. “I will now ask the men to raise their hands.” They did so. “Mr. Herrin, you are now confronted with a new lineup, a lineup in which the five choices, instead of looking completely different from one another, look somewhat similar to one another, though far from identical. One of them is my client, but he has changed out of the jacket and tie he wore this morning. The other four are not my client. Can you tell the jury which of these five men is the one you saw on the street that night?”

  Herrin hesitated. He leaned forward, straining. He tried looking through the glasses, then over the glasses. It was clear that either way, he was not getting the clarity he needed.

  “Mr. Herrin? We’re waiting.”

  Herrin hesitated. “I... I think maybe...”

  “Don’t guess, Mr. Herrin. This is of the utmost importance. It determines whether my client leaves this courtroom a free man or leaves in chains. Can you tell the jury with certainty which of the five men in the rear of the courtroom is the one you saw on the street?”

  Herrin gave it a few more minutes, then conceded. “I’m sorry. I cannot.”

  “I appreciate your honesty, sir.” A slow smile spread across his face. “Your honor, I move to dismiss the charges.”

  Chapter 3

  In the hallway outside the courtroom, Dan shook his client’s hand.

  “Dude, I cannot thank you enough.” Emilio pumped his hand with vigor. Arm guns. Pink muscle shirt. Dreadlocks. Scar from left temple to cheekbone. Probably could be fixed—if he wanted it fixed. But perhaps it helped convince everyone of his “gangsta” status. “You are like a miracle worker, man. A courtroom miracle worker. Santo Daniel, that is what I call you.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  “My bros said it couldn’t be helped, that I was doin’ time, but you pulled my fat outta the fire, just like you did before.”

  “I’m glad it worked out well.”

  “Needless to say, you will be paid, my man. Every penny. Just need to make a stop at the warehouse.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “I will have one of my boys deliver to your office tomorrow.” He grinned. “What is it gonna be this time? Another Porsche? A Maserati?”

  “Oh, those are so last year. I’m feeling Britishy today. Maybe a Bentley.”

  “You are some kind of cool.” His cell phone beeped. He glanced at the screen. “Sorry, business calls. Remember, you are on retainer. You’re my main man. I got you, dog.”

  “Understood.” His client departed.

  He felt jubilant, and relieved, and the two made for a heady mix. How to celebrate? He hadn’t seen Liz in a while, and steak and lobster by the bay seemed like a good way to—

  A middle-aged woman approached him. Hair escaping from ponytail. Bruise on arm. Cross dangling from neck. Exercise suit. “Are you Daniel Pike?”

  “I am.”

  “Are you the one they call ‘the miracle worker?’”

  “Modesty forbids me from acknowledging this. But yes.”

  “Are you taking new clients?”

  “I don’t know. Do you have any money?”

  “My sister needs a miracle worker. She’s trapped in a poisonous marriage—”

  He held up his hands. “I don’t do divorce. No Family Court for me, thank you very much. Too messy. Not profitable.”

  “She won’t even leave him, much less divorce him. But that man is beating her up almost every night. Her eye is swollen shut. He broke her arm. It’s only a matter of time till he kills her.”

  “You should report—”

  “I’ve been to the police, but they won’t do anything unless she presses charges, and she says she can’t do that to the kids. I was thinking maybe a protective order.”

  “Will he contest it?”

  “Of course he will.”

  “Do you have any idea how long that will take? You’ll need witnesses, evidence, a judge in the right mood...”

  “You’re saying it’s impossible?”

  “I’m saying it will take time. And in my line of work, time is money.”

  “I have just over $300 in my Christmas savings account.”

  “That will almost cover the cost of this conversation.”

  “Maybe you have an intern you work with?”

  “No. I’m in a firm, but I work alone. And I won’t take your money unless I can deliver. I would recommend that you contact Family Legal Aid. They have an office—”

  “I already called them but they said it was hopeless.”

  “Until she’s ready to press charges, it probably is.” He checked his Van Cleef watch. “If you’ll excuse me. I have a three o’clock.” He turned, making his way as quickly as possible to his imaginary appointment. Unfortunately, he walked so quickly he nearly collided with the prosecutor he had just trounced in court.He knew Jazlyn was pissed, but she was way too cool to let it show. Brown dress. Great hair. Visible bra strap. Stern expression. Ring on the left hand, but no diamond.

  Jazlyn pursed her lips. “You must be feeling good about getting that model citizen off the hook.”

  “Depends on what you mean. I think Emilio is a walking waste product. But I won’t let the government railroad my clients. And your witness was a liar.”

  “Perhaps. But you do realize that even though you won, even though I had to fold, it doesn’t prove your man wasn’t guilty.”

  “What it proves, Jazlyn, is that you had no case. It all hinged on one eyewitness, and frankly, even if you didn’t know about his eyesight issues, I think you sensed how shaky his testimony was. You shouldn’t have gone to trial.”

  “A little presumptuous, aren’t you?”

  “You initiated this conversation. I’m tired of prosecutors acting as if they represent all that’s holy and defense attorneys are demon spawn. We exist for a reason. To keep you and the cops in check.”

  She placed a finger square on his chest. “This isn’t law school, it isn’t sociology class, and I don’t need your theory of the universe. Your pestilential client is one of the worst drug dealers on the Southside of St. Pete. He’s destroyed more lives in a year than most people encounter in a lifetime. At least thirteen gang-related murders have been associated with him.”

  “Then why haven’t you brought those charges?”

  “If I had the evidence, I would. People like your client have a nasty habit of not leaving traces. Or finding fall guys to take the rap.”

  “So I should stand aside and let you convict people even when you don’t have evidence, because you think they’re bad people. Basically, change the standard from ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’ to ‘prosecutor has a strong suspicion.’”

  “We saw an opportunity to try to get Emilio off the streets, so we took it. And you prevented it. You are a destructive force in our community. You think winning is everything.”

  “Winning is everything.” He started to sing. “Weeee are the champions, my friiiiiend...”

  “Stay cool, Freddie Mercury. There’s a war on out there.”

  “That’s exactly right.” He was tempted to poke a return finger into her chest, but of course if he did t
o her what she had already done to him, he’d be charged with sexual harassment. “The government is waging a war on private citizens. Civil rights are being eroded. Privacy is disappearing. We continue to perpetrate the myth that people are ‘presumed innocent,’ but as soon as you bring charges, most people assume the accused is guilty. You get plea bargains from people you could never convict because they’re afraid to run the risk. And the only thing that stops this screwed-up system from persecuting the innocent is people like me.”

  “Messiah complex much?”

  “Defense attorneys are the thin blue line separating a free society from a fascist 1984.”

  “Are you calling me a fascist?”

  “True or false. You convict three times as many black and Hispanic people as you do white people.”

  “You know it’s true.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “Presumably it’s because they commit more crime.”

  “Bull. It’s because, first, many dirty cops are also bigots, and second, it’s easier to convict minorities. They’re less likely to be able to afford a defense and more likely to be convicted by a jury of white retirees. The Innocence Project says there are more than a thousand wrongful convictions in the US every year. That means about four percent of the people in prison didn’t commit the crime.”

  “Is that your excuse for the way you practice?”

  “You don’t think I’m a good lawyer?”

  “Oh, you’re a terrific lawyer. And I admire you.” She paused. “But I don’t respect you.”

  “Ouch. That stings.” He knew he shouldn’t be so obnoxious. He actually liked Jazlyn and admired her dedication. But this was a subject he felt passionately about. “Whether you respect my work or you don’t, defense lawyers play an essential role in making the system work.”

  “Do you recite this speech to yourself at night? Like when you’re trying to sleep? Which, given the state of your conscience, I would think you find very difficult.”

  “Would you like to help with that?”

  She blinked. “Seriously? You’re propositioning me?”

  “Only in a consent-based, respectful way. How about dinner? We both have to eat. Why not do it together?”

  “There is no way in hell—”

  “Dinner at eight, just the two of us, Chez Guitano.”

  Her lips parted. “I’ve never been there.”

  “Best meal in St. Pete.”

  “And the most expensive.”

  He shrugged.

  “This is completely inappropriate—”

  “Am I pressuring you in any way?”

  “No...I suppose not.”

  “And we are not currently working on a case, you are not my boss or underling, I have no authority over you, and you are free to walk away at any time.”

  “Which I think I will.”

  “As you wish. But the lobster thermidor at Chez Guitano...” He kissed his fingertips. “Magnifique. Are you in or out?”

  “I can’t believe you’re asking me to dinner. Can you not see how angry you’re making me?”

  “I like it. Turns me on.”

  “And you think if you buy me an expensive meal I’ll go to bed with you?”

  “Nah. I never have sex on the first date.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Is that a fact.”

  “If I wanted to impress you, I’d cook. But that would be overkill on the first date.”

  “You can cook?”

  “And circle gets the square. Yes, I’ve completed two gourmet courses. Got the certificates and everything. But I digress. Are you joining me for dinner?”

  “I must admit, you have a unique seduction technique. Trounce a girl in court, insult her in the hallway, then invite her to dinner.”

  “You probably go for the bad boys. So?”

  Jazlyn stared at him, hands on hips, breathing through her nostrils like a dragon. Finally, she spoke. “Can we make it eight-thirty? I want to go home first and change.”

  “Perfection.”

  She poked him again in the chest. “And you may not talk about this afterward. I’ll deny everything.”

  He nodded. “I never eat and tell.”

  She turned on her heel and walked away.

  “Red is your best color,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear. “Ditch the earth tones.”

  Chapter 4

  He sat behind the desk staring at the two people he had invited to this private meeting in a darkened room. Dark by choice. He preferred it that way. He couldn’t afford to have any witnesses. And he didn’t particularly want to see their faces.

  “I think you know why I selected you,” he said. “You are both highly placed operatives within your organizations. You, Luis are trusted by Emilio, and as I’m sure you already know, he is once again a free man. You, Diego, are trusted by your brother. Both of your bosses are in St. Petersburg at the moment. And they both hate each other.”

  He drew in his breath slowly, then continued. “The question is, how do we get these two... businessmen, let’s call them...to meet.”

  “Emilio will never meet that bastard,” Luis said.

  “Why? Doesn’t he want to expand his business?”

  “Maybe.”

  “How’s he going to get a foothold?”

  “By killing every whore-dog who gets in his way.” The hostility in Luis’ voice was plain, but whether that was a sign of aggression or nervousness was unclear.

  “And what about you, Diego?”

  “The same. My brother doesn’t want people to know he’s in the country. He won’t consider any kind of meeting.”

  “He would if he had a good reason. We just need to figure out what that reason is.”

  “He has nothing to gain.”

  “I disagree. They both have something the other wants. That’s the key.” He rose, towering over the desk. “Sanchez wants to expand his business into the states. Emilio wants to cut into Sanchez’ business. Sanchez probably wouldn’t object to taking over Emilio’s business. At the end of the day, they are both self-centered, petty little gang lords willing to risk everyone and everything to gain a little turf. They would put any life on the line, including yours, if they thought it would help their bottom line. All we have to do is convince them that the meeting will be to their benefit.”

  Luis spoke up. “And that ain’t never gonna happen. Meet out on the street? That’s gonna get people killed. They will both assume it is some kinda setup. A hit.”

  “But what if they thought differently? What if we chose a more upscale location? What if each of them believed they were going to get the drop on the other?”

  Luis was slow to respond. “That could never happen.”

  “You could make it happen.”

  “What are you saying?”

  He spread his hands across the desk. “Simple. You don’t tell Emilio you’re arranging a meeting. You say you’re arranging an assassination. Same for you, Diego. You let each of them believe the other doesn’t know they’ll be there. That somehow you’ve gotten inside information about their enemy’s movements, which presents an opportunity to eliminate the opposition and seize their business. They’ll love that.”

  Luis shook his head. “Man, do you know what you are saying? People are going to get hurt. Maybe dead.”

  “Some of them should be dead.”

  “That’s sick. I have spent years tryin’ to turn this business into something legit.”

  “And that has cost you, hasn’t it? Now you need money badly, money I can provide. And most of all—you need Emilio gone. Back behind bars, or perhaps something even more permanent.” He turned his attention to the other shadow in the room. “Same offer for you, Diego. Isn’t it about time you stopped being your big brother’s play toy?”

  He reached down, grabbed two briefcases, and slid them across the desk. “Inside you will find everything you need. More than enough money to grease the wheels. Make this happen. And remember—I’ll be w
atching you.”

  Chapter 5

  Dan smiled at Jazlyn across the dinner table. “I can’t believe one of your no-doubt-numerous suitors hasn’t taken you to Chez Guitano before.”

  “I work too much to have no-doubt-numerous suitors.”

  The restaurant was crowded, but they kept the tables adequately separated to maintain some illusion of privacy. Waiters in white coats attended to their every need, and they had a great view of the ocean. Of course, he saw the ocean every day from his boat. But somehow, a good view improved every dining experience.

  “That explains nothing. You look terrific, by the way. Especially in that red dress. Very fetch.”

  “I suppose I must convey my thanks.”

  “What’s going on with you?”

  “You know perfectly well what I do.”

  “But outside the office. Do you have...a life?”

  “You don’t get to the head of the office by having a life.”

  “From what I hear, you got there by being the DA’s apex predator.”

  “I plead nolo contendre.”

  “Regrets?”

  She shrugged. “I am well past thirty and my bio clock is ticking. I think I would’ve liked being a mother...” She sighed. “But it’s not going to happen.”

  That was a problem he didn’t want to help with. “Focus on all you’ve got. You look great. You’re smart. You’re a terrific prosecutor. Rumor is you’ll run for the top spot in a couple of years. Do you need a marriage?”

  “Enough about me.” She nibbled a bite of her lobster. “Why aren’t you with someone?”

  He pondered a moment. “I suppose the most honest answer is—because I don’t want to be.”

  “I get that. Seems like even when you’re with someone, you’re not really with someone. Kind of a lone wolf, aren’t you?”

  “Just because I’m single?”

  “I never see you with anyone from your firm. You’re always in court alone.”

  “Goodness. This is getting personal.” He tugged at his collar. “Friedman & Collins does not have an extensive criminal law department. I’m their token dip into brackish waters.”