The Last Chance Lawyer

by William Bernhardt

  He turned to Gabriella, urging her to her feet. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “Not guilty.”

  The judge nodded. “All right then. I have some preliminary motions we can take up today, while we’re all gathered together.” She glanced up. “Mr. Pike, you’re looking particularly snazzy today.”

  What was it with women and this suit? “Thank you, your honor.”

  “I’m flattered that you bought a new suit to appear in my court.”

  How did they know? Had he left the price tag on the back?

  “But still wearing the sneakers, I see.” The judge made a tsking sound, then turned to the prosecution table. “I don’t mean to slight you, Ms. Prentice. You look fine too. But you always do.”

  Jazlyn smiled. The judge returned her gaze to the papers. “As I was saying. Preliminary motions. I have a request from the defendant to set bond. I’ve read your motion and brief, counsel. Do you have anything to add?”

  In truth, he had said everything in the brief. But when the judge gives you an opportunity to speak, you speak. “Yes, your honor. I would like to point out that, despite the gravity of these charges, my client has no incentive, much less means, to travel anywhere. She has a home here. She has ties to the community. As I believe your honor is aware, she is in the midst of an adoption proceeding.”

  The judge shook her head, as if amazed anybody thought she had a chance of adopting a child at this point.

  He continued. “She is not a young woman and she has never been incarcerated for a long period of time. This is extremely hard on her. I’m asking the court to show mercy. There is no risk. Why force the state to incur this enormous expense for no reason?”

  The judge nodded. “Anything from the prosecution?”

  “I’ll say.” Jazlyn took a tiny step forward. “I don’t care what the incarceration costs the state. This woman is dangerous. She’s been indicted on a capital offense. She owned a gun, the gun that forensic evidence has identified as the murder weapon.”

  He started to interrupt, but Jazlyn raised her hand. “I’m not going to start arguing the facts. But we have a rock-solid case here. Rock-solid. It is a fact that Ms. Valdez owned a weapon. It is a fact that she worked with gangs and gang lords. She has been linked to the drug trade and has a criminal record. She’s a flight risk. With respect, I believe it would be irresponsible, and a hazard to the community, to let her run free pending trial.”

  He knew the judge was seconds from ruling. He cut in. “Obviously I disagree, your honor, but I will point out that there’s no need, to use the prosecutor’s words, to let my client run free. Give her a collar. Put a tracking device on her. The state can monitor her every movement. Restrict her to home, or a five-mile radius of her home. You’ll know immediately if she goes anywhere.”

  Jazlyn looked disgusted. “I can’t believe counsel is even making this argument, given the charges. Let this woman roam freely? Hope we catch her before she kills again? If she decides to go on the lam, she’ll remove the collar and we won’t know where she is. Honestly. Shall we give her the gun back too?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Despite the prosecutor’s dramaturgy, we are not talking about a major gangland figure here. We’re talking about a poor woman who does not have the ability, means, or desire to go anywhere.”

  The judge cut in. “If she doesn’t have the means to leave town, how could she ever make bail?”

  He tilted his head. “Set an amount, your honor. I will do my best to raise the funds.”

  “No. It’s nothing personal against you or your client. But I never allow bond in capital cases. I believe we have a responsibility to protect the community. If there’s sufficient cause for the grand jury to bring an indictment, then there’s sufficient reason to keep her behind bars pending a full adjudication. Bond is denied. Is there anything else?”

  He drew in his breath. “I filed a motion for change of venue, your honor. This case has already received an enormous amount of publicity, in newspapers, online, and on television. TV anchorpeople are chattering about it incessantly. I’ve watched the shows. They can barely speak my client’s name without sneering, or looking as if they’re about to vomit. There is no way any prospective juror could watch that and not be influenced. Online, the chatter is worse. Last night I logged over one-hundred-and-forty websites or online bulletin boards discussing this case. I’ve made a list. And every single one, without exception, assumes based upon absolutely no evidence that my client is guilty.”

  The judge shrugged. “No one should trust online bulletin boards to know anything about anyone.”

  “My point being, your honor, there is too much prejudicial chatter going on in St. Pete. My client cannot get a fair trial here.”

  The judge pivoted. “Ms. Prentice?”

  Jazlyn responded. “I don’t doubt there has been a lot of discussion about this case. It’s a horrible incident, the kind that rivets the community. But people are talking about this case all over the state of Florida, and probably in other states as well. I don’t see that moving to a different venue changes anything.” She paused. “And I know your honor can overcome any bias that might arise.”

  “The court thanks you for the vote of confidence. The truth is, we have procedures in place to root out pretrial bias. I will allow both sides liberal opportunity to question the prospective jurors when the trial begins. I will double your normal allotment of peremptory challenges. But like the prosecutor, I don’t see that moving to another venue improves anything. So long as I sit behind this bench, there will be no prejudice or bias. I will make sure nothing inappropriate happens.” She gazed at the defendant’s table. “And that includes inappropriate behavior, shenanigans, or courtroom trickery. Everyone clear on what I’m saying?”

  He didn’t pretend that she might be speaking to anyone other than himself. He nodded.

  “This is an emotional case with many opportunities for plays on sympathy, racism, sexism, pathos, and the basest instincts of the press or the prospective jurors. I will not have it.” She tapped her finger on the bench as if to emphasize each word. “Do you understand me? I will not have it.”

  She allowed an uneasy silence of several seconds before she proceeded. “Motion for change of venue is denied. Is there anything else?”

  He’d been thinking about this all morning, but the judge’s failure to set bond, not to mention the little speech she just gave, strengthened his resolve—despite the inherent risks. “Your honor, I would ask the court to set this case down for trial immediately. First available spot.”

  The judge’s eyebrows lifted.

  Jazlyn rose to her feet. “Is this a joke?”

  “No joke. My client has a right to a speedy trial.”

  “Your honor,” Jazlyn said, “we had no notice that this motion was coming. I don’t know what counsel is up to, but no one is going to benefit from a rush to trial.”

  “Excuse me,” he cut in, “but we just heard the prosecutor say she had a rock-solid case. If she’s already got a rock-solid case, then let’s start the trial and hear it.” He turned toward Jazlyn, just to rub it in a little harder. “Look at all the lawyers the district attorney has allocated to this case. There can’t be any prejudice to this gigantic brain trust if they’ve already got a rock-solid case.”

  Jazlyn did not have a reply.

  The judge glanced at some papers on the bench. “How soon would you be ready to go to trial, counsel?”

  “We can be ready tomorrow. Heck, we’re ready today.”

  “I think that might be pushing it. But later this month might be possible. Are you sure about this? Have you discussed it with your client?”

  “I have. And she’s all in favor of it. She’s eager for a chance to prove her innocence. She’s also eager to get out of the hellhole in which she is currently incarcerated. As I mentioned, there’s a pending adoption, and we have not given up hope of success. But it is hopeless so long as my client has murder charges pending, so we need t
o get this business resolved. The young woman she hopes to adopt currently faces imminent deportation. If we wait the usual year before trial, she’ll be in El Salvador living a life of hideous degradation.”

  Jazlyn shook her head. “I don’t even know what he’s talking about, your honor. We have not been briefed on this. He’s bringing in matters that are not relevant because for some reason he’s decided it benefits his defense strategy to rush to trial. Is there something you’re afraid we’ll find out?”

  “What is there to learn? You have a rock-solid case.”

  The judge covered her mouth. “He’s right about one thing, Ms. Prentice. You did say you have a rock-solid case. And I think it would be best for the community if we resolved this matter as quickly as possible. Do you oppose his request for an immediate trial date? For your rock-solid case?”

  He had a strong feeling Jazlyn would regret saying “rock-solid” till the day she died. But now her prowess was challenged. “If he can be ready for trial quickly, we can too.”

  Le spoke to her clerk, seated below and to the right, beside the court reporter. “Check my calendar, Murray. Assume this trial will take at least a week, possibly longer. When’s the first available opening?”

  Murray riffled through papers for about half a minute before he spoke. “Actually, your honor, you’ll recall that the grand larceny we thought was going to trial settled yesterday. We theoretically could hear this case in ten days. On the 24th.”

  The judge gazed into the gallery. “You heard it. Defense counsel has asked for an immediate trial date. I can set this down for ten days from now. Any objections?”

  He looked at Jazlyn out the corner of his eyes. She bit down hard on her bottom lip. He could imagine how much she must hate this. But she wasn’t saying anything.

  “All right then,” Judge Le said. “This case will begin on the 24th. Given this expedited start date, I want counsel on both sides to cooperate. No discovery disputes. Fast track the exchange of exculpatory evidence. If you have any more motions to file, I want to see them by the end of this week.”

  “Understood, your honor.”

  “Anything else?”

  No one spoke.

  “See you all in ten days.” She pounded the gavel on the bench. Everyone rose until she left the room.

  Maria muttered under her breath. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  “I’m not entirely sure I believe it myself. And I can’t believe it worked.”

  “We have a good team. We can pull this together in time.”

  “Glad to hear you say that.” He scooted closer to Gabriella. “Do you understand what just happened?”

  She nodded. “Is this wise?”

  “Do you want to stay locked up for a year?”

  “No.” About that she was certain.

  “I didn’t think so, and I know with absolute certainty that if we waited the usual time it would take a murder case to come to trial, Esperanza would be deported.”

  “But I can’t help her if I’m convicted. If I’m...executed.”

  He and Maria exchanged a dire glance. “Then we have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  Chapter 21

  Dan scrutinized the office directory on the first floor of the federal building on State Street, scanning for the office of Immigration and Customs Enforcement. It was on the fourth floor. Stairs or elevator? He supposed a little aerobic exercise wouldn’t hurt.

  Maria, of course, was all in favor. “I didn’t have time to run this morning. My Fitbit is nagging me.”

  But of course.

  They opened the creaky door and started upstairs. “You didn’t have to come,” he said. “You’re not keeping tabs on me, are you?”

  “You wouldn’t want to do this without your trusty girl Friday.”

  “That’s incredibly sexist.”

  “But possibly how you see me.”

  “Wrong.”

  “Then as your chauffeur?”

  “Thought never crossed my mind. What I meant was, you’re not following me around everywhere because you think I need to be watched, are you? Did Mr. K ask you to monitor my activities?”

  “He has never asked me to do that to you or anyone else. He lets us make our own decisions about how to handle a case. His theory is, if you hire the right people, you don’t have to micromanage their activities.” She peered at him. “You seem to have a...strong antiestablishment strain.”

  “I know from first-hand experience that being charged with a crime is no guarantee of guilt. So pardon me if I rebel. If I fight hard. If I make sure cases are tried on the merits, and nobody’s civil rights get trampled along the way.” He calmed himself. “But now that I’ve ranted a little bit, let’s talk to this guy. He has a lot to do with whether Esperanza stays in the USA.”

  They exited the stairwell and made their way to the office of Jack Crenshaw, the ICE agent overseeing Esperanza’s case.

  He peered through the door. The man he assumed was Crenshaw held a long cylindrical tube to his eye. When Crenshaw spotted them in the doorway, he dropped what he was doing and came out from behind his desk to meet them. Tall. Slender. Works out. Cowboy boots and matching hat on the credenza. No ring.

  Crenshaw extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Jack. You must be Maria? And I’m guessing you’re Dan.”

  “Guilty as charged.” They all shook hands.

  “Come on in. Have a seat.” Once they were settled, he retook his seat behind the desk, but it didn’t seem like a hierarchal power move. That was the only seat still available. “What can I do for you?”

  “For starters, you can explain why you are so relentlessly harassing a little girl.” He hoped that wasn’t too blunt, but he saw no reason to mess around.

  Crenshaw drew in his breath. “You’re referring to Esperanza Coto.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Maria jumped in. “She’s never hurt anyone. She’s persevered despite the worst possible circumstances. She’s sweet, good-natured, makes good grades, and stays out of trouble, even though she lives in a neighborhood filled with bad influences. What’s the problem?”

  Crenshaw shook his head. “I don’t have a problem. But I do have a job. And I am required to enforce the law.”

  “The law requires you to harass a child? I don’t even understand why your office is involved. Just leave her alone.”

  “I understand what you’re saying,” Crenshaw replied. “But I don’t have the option of leaving her alone. I wish I did. I see no great harm in letting Esperanza remain in the United States. But she has no legal status, no legal guardians, and no means of supporting herself.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to deport her.”

  Crenshaw tilted his head. “Actually, it kind of does. As you must be aware, the administration revoked temporary protected status for Salvadorans. It didn’t revoke TPS for all nations—just six. We have to assume those six were not chosen randomly. To the contrary, we have to assume they were chosen because the executive branch has decided that we no longer want to shelter people from those nations.”

  “So we helped the Salvadorans when we were feeling guilty about the Iran-Contra fiasco. But now that time has passed and racist sentiment seems widespread, we’re going to pull the rug out from under them.”

  “I know it must look like that to you, but here’s the reality. Immigration policies change. All the time. They are constantly in flux. It has been that way since the dawn of this nation. This has never been a place where all immigrants could enter the country anytime they wanted in whatever numbers possible. We have rules.”

  “And that’s why you’re going to let Esperanza fall between the cracks.”

  Crenshaw raised a finger. “Now that’s where I have to take exception. This girl has far from fallen between the cracks. I know all about her case.” He patted a stack of files on his desk. “We have extensive files which I have read thoroughly. I have tried to do everything possible to help her. I was the one who to
ld Gabriella Valdez she should pursue adoption. Because I thought that was Esperanza’s best hope of remaining in the country. Sadly, the girl lost her parents. Her closest relative was Jorge Sanchez, and now he’s dead too.”

  “Just as well, from what we hear,” Maria interjected.

  “I have to agree with you there.”

  “But you’ll deliver her to Sanchez’ little brother, who may be just as bad.”

  “That’s not accurate. We’ll deliver her to the El Salvadoran immigration authorities.”

  “And they’ll deliver her to the little brother.”

  “Maybe. Frankly, it’s a little presumptuous to assume we know better than other nations how they should handle their orphans.”

  “Gabriella thinks the Sanchez cartel is involved in sex trafficking. Does a lot of that go on in El Salvador? Or here?”

  Crenshaw drew in his breath. “The answer to both questions is yes. Sex trafficking has exploded to previously unseen proportions in the past decade. We like to think that sort of thing doesn’t happen in the United States, but it does. I have to wonder if that’s why Sanchez was here. Trying to expand his operation. We believe that he, or the people he’s working with, have some sort of operation by which they trade green cards for sex. That is, they grease the wheels and get people into the country, possibly even get them legal or protected status, in exchange for their work in prostitution rings.”

  “That’s despicable,” Maria murmured. “Prostitution should be illegal everywhere.”

  “Ma’am, prostitution has existed since the dawn of time. Always has and always will. Bernard Shaw called it the oldest profession. Since we can’t get rid of it, the smarter approach might be to legalize it. Govern it. Sex slavery and abuse wouldn’t be possible if it were run above-board, like other businesses. We could require medical examinations to prevent the spread of STDs. We could tax it, which would add billions to the economy.”

  “I think that’s a horrible idea.”

  “It’s a realistic idea. But”—he added quickly—“not the official policy of the US government. Just my random thoughts on the matter.”