The Last Chance Lawyer

by William Bernhardt

  “So you went with them?”

  “I did as I was told. Men. Filthy men. Whips. Knives. Pricks.” All at once, she jerked her gown off her left shoulder, exposing herself. “See this?” The scar ran down from her shoulder almost to the tip of her breast, red and prominent. He had to look away. “No one cared what the men did. Anything was permitted, if they had money. Do this. Do that. Come to America. I came.”

  “Why were you brought to America?” he asked.

  “Sanchez wanted me.”

  He was puzzled. But to be fair, they weren’t certain why Sanchez was here, either.

  Luciana suddenly lurched forward, as far as her restraints would permit. “You must protect Gabriella. Por favor!”

  “I’m trying. But Sanchez is dead and she’s been accused of his murder.”

  For the first time, a smile played on Luciana’s lips. “I hope it is true.”

  He felt a shiver race down his spine.

  This conversation was not going the direction he had hoped. Probably unrealistic, expecting something of value to come from a conversation with someone so clearly suffering from mental illness. “Did you see anyone else? After you came to the United States? Did Sanchez have any other visitors?”

  “Many. They talk. Talk, talk, talk. Franchise.”

  The sudden insertion of business jargon startled him. “Someone wanted to take over Sanchez’ business? Or start another business like it?

  “They need women. More women.”

  “Who were these men? The ones talking. Did you know any names?”

  “They never told me names.”

  “Can you describe them?”

  “Ghosts. Demons. Diablos.”

  Damn. “What else did they talk about?”

  “Sanchez liked to give his visitors a gift.” Her eyes were sunken and cold. “I was the gift. I ran. I escaped.” She started rocking again. “But they caught me. They always caught me.”

  He tried to keep his churning stomach from spewing. “Can you describe these men?”

  It was as if he was watching a flashback in someone else’s brain. Her rocking accelerated, back and forth in the chair. “Don’t let them near me. Don’t let them take me again. Let me die!”

  He knew this conversation would not continue much longer. “Please, Luciana, think. Can you describe the men? Or tell me their names?”

  “The eyes,” she said, her whole body trembling. “The eyes. It’s the eyes. He wants me.”

  “The eyes? What eyes? Whose eyes?”

  “The eyes, man!” she screamed. “The eyes, man!”

  Maria cut in. “Can you tell us anything more?”

  “I ran and ran and ran. They put us in a box. They used the needle.” She was hysterical, ranting, screaming, rocking with enough force to stretch her bonds to the limit. “Then the police put me in a cell. Now here. Don’t let them hurt me! Don’t let them!”

  Broglie cut in. “Okay. This conversation is over.” She reached down and tried to comfort Luciana.

  “Let me die!” Luciana screamed, spittle flying from her lips. “Let me die!”

  Even as they wheeled her away, she continued to scream. “The eyes man. Please make him stop. Por favor! Please!”

  Chapter 39

  One second after Dan took a seat at the defense table, one of Jazlyn’s many flunkies brought him a note. The fact that Jazlyn was using a flunky, and that the flunky disappeared a second after he delivered the message, suggested he wasn’t going to like what he read.

  He was right about that.

  One quick scan and he crumpled it in his hand, rose, and stalked the halls for Jazlyn. He found her just outside the DA’s office, leading the usual entourage to court. “A minute?”

  She tried to play it cool. “May I ask why?”

  “I think you already know.”

  She frowned, then turned to her nearest associate. “Go ahead. Get set up. I’ll be there soon.” She turned back to him. “One minute.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “I assume this is a reference to our next witness?”

  “Yeah, the one who wasn’t on your witness list.”

  “And I apologize for that. The name did not come to our attention until late last night. I sent someone to the courtroom to inform you as soon as possible.”

  “Actually, you could have sent me a text last night.”

  “My office does not allow confidential information to be transmitted electronically.”

  “So you waited till I was in the courtroom. When there was no chance I could prepare. You know I’m going to object.”

  “I do. But I think the judge will allow it, once I explain the circumstances. I’m not kidding you, Dan. We didn’t know about this guy until late last night.”

  “And how did this witness magically drop into your lap at the last possible moment?”

  “We received an anonymous tip.”

  “Again? And that doesn’t make you at all suspicious?”

  “I know there are many players in this drama who would not want their identities revealed—but still have a conscience.”

  “You said yesterday you had one more witness.”

  “And I was right. I just didn’t know who the witness would be yet. Look, given what this witness has to say, it would be complete malpractice not put him on the stand.”

  “This is trial by ambush.”

  “Oh, stop spouting clichés. The defense doesn’t even have to give us a witness list. Now that’s trial by ambush. Every single time.”

  She had a point.

  “You’re the one who wanted a speedy trial, and anytime we go to trial this quickly, some of the procedural niceties will get left behind.”

  “Just remember that you opened this door. If you’re gonna pull eleventh-hour witnesses out of your hat, you can expect the same from me.”

  “Everyone always expects all manner of courtroom trickery from you, Dan. It’s like your one-line biography.”

  He tried to restrain a snarl. “See you in court.”

  HE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT bothered him more–that Jazlyn was producing a new witness at the last minute, or that she had managed to find somebody that Garrett hadn’t tracked down. This was Ramon Alvarez, the man Gabriella had mentioned before, the one who was at her home the night of the shooting but had disappeared. How did Jazlyn even know to look for him?

  Then he remembered. Gabriella mentioned Alvarez yesterday in the consultation room.

  “Jimmy,” he asked after he returned to the courtroom, “do you think it’s possible someone could be eavesdropping when we’re in the consultation room?”

  “That would defeat the whole purpose of providing attorneys a place to speak confidentially with their clients.”

  “Agreed. But do you think it’s possible?”

  “I don’t think anyone here would agree to it.”

  “But it’s not impossible.”

  “For this case? Nothing is impossible.”

  He made a mental note. From now on, during all confidential conversations, all cell phones would be turned off and all laptops would be closed. And they wouldn’t use that consult room.

  Jazlyn called Ramon Alvarez to the witness stand. T-shirt. Stubble. Beer belly. Tattoo on his left hand, the all-seeing eye symbol from one-dollar bills. Black Payless sneakers. Too eager.

  Jazlyn quickly established Alvarez’ identity. He lived on the Southside and he knew both Emilio and Gabriella. He frequently went to Gabriella’s house. He had worked for Emilio in the past, though he had recently obtained a better job at a convenience store and was trying to have as little to do with Emilio as possible. After the shooting, he went to Gabriella’s home.

  “Who was there when you arrived?” Jazlyn asked.

  “Only the girl, at first. Esperanza.”

  “Not the defendant?”

  “Not yet. She got there about five minutes after I did.”

  “Why did you go there?”

  “I was co
ncerned about them. I heard Gabriella was at the shootout. I was worried she might be hurt. And I didn’t want Esperanza to be alone.”

  “Did you know these two well?”

  “As well as Gabriella would permit. I wanted to be...closer. But she held me at arm’s length. I thought we might make a good set of foster parents, but Gabriella always pushed me away.”

  He glanced at Gabriella. Good poker face.

  “How was Esperanza when you arrived?”

  “Worried. She was shut up in her room. The word about the shooting was out, and the noise level was high. She knew something had happened. And she knew Gabriella had not come home yet.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I tried to comfort the girl.”

  “And she allowed this?”

  “Yeah. We had a good relationship and before the defense tries to suggest differently, there was nothing weird or wrong about it. I just wanted to be her friend. I think I helped her hold it together until Gabriella got home.”

  “Please describe for the jury what happened when she arrived.”

  He took a breath, licked his lips. “It was...frightening.”

  “How so?”

  “For starters, she was covered with blood. She wore a white blouse, but there was almost as much red on it as white. She was dirty and covered with sweat. Obviously agitated. Breathing hard.” He inhaled deeply. “And she was holding a gun.”

  Jazlyn showed him the murder weapon, still marked and in its plastic bag. “Is this the weapon she held?”

  “It looks like it.”

  “How would you describe her mental state?”

  He started to object, but Jazlyn jumped in first. “I’m not asking for a psychological evaluation. I’m just asking you to describe what you saw.”

  “She didn’t seem particularly scared, if that’s what you mean. I wasn’t nearly as close to the shooting as she was, and I was terrified. If anything, I’d say she was...buzzed.”

  “Can you explain what you mean by that?”

  “She was pleased.” He hesitated a moment, then continued. “She checked on Esperanza, made sure the girl was okay, then went upstairs. I heard her running water, cleaning up a bit. She changed her top. When she came out a couple of minutes later, she was clean and she no longer had the gun.”

  “Did this surprise you?”

  “Not particularly. It didn’t take a genius to realize the cops would be swarming all over the neighborhood soon. She had to try to eliminate all traces of...what had happened.”

  “Did you talk about what happened?”

  “A little. She sat down with Esperanza on the sofa, cradling the girl in her arms. I was only a few feet away.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She told us everything was all right. Not to be scared. She told Esperanza, ‘You don’t need to be scared any more. You don’t need to be scared ever again.’”

  Jazlyn let those words sink in. “What did that mean?”

  “She didn’t explain. I thought she meant—”

  He rose. “Objection. We want to hear what the witness saw and heard, not his subjective interpretations.”

  The judge nodded. “Sustained.”

  Jazlyn proceeded. “Did she say anything else?”

  “Yeah. She leaned closer to Esperanza and whispered, but I was still able to hear.”

  Because you were creeping like a creeper, he thought.

  “What did she say to the girl?”

  “She whispered, ‘I took care of everything.’”

  “Thank you,” Jazlyn said. “No more questions.”

  DAN DIDN’T LET A SECOND pass, nor did he wait to be invited to speak. He strode straight to the witness box, standing directly in front of Alvarez.

  “Let’s be clear on this. Did you ever hear Gabriella say, ‘I killed him?’”

  “What she said was, ‘I took care of everything.’”

  “Which could mean a lot of different things, couldn’t it?”

  “I thought it meant one particular thing.”

  “Because that’s what you wanted to think?”

  “Because she came home with a gun, covered in blood. Because Sanchez was dead and she was pleased.” He chuckled a little. “Gotta hand it to her, she said she took care of everything. And she did.”

  “You were close to Gabriella and Esperanza, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You said you cared about Gabriella and implied that you wanted to marry her.”

  “Also true.”

  “But she turned you down, right?”

  He hesitated. “She didn’t think I could take care of them.”

  “That must’ve made you angry.”

  “I was disappointed.”

  “So you wanted to get back at her.”

  “Nah.”

  “So you told lies about her in court.”

  “No way, man. I’m not perfect, but I’m no liar.”

  “In fact, you proposed to Gabriella more than once, correct?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes persistence pays off.”

  “This is the testimony of a jilted suitor who wants to teach Gabriella a lesson.”

  Jazlyn rose to her feet. “Objection.”

  The judge nodded. “I’ll sustain that. The jurors can draw their own conclusions.”

  He continued. “The police investigated you after the shooting, correct?”

  “They investigated everyone in the neighborhood. Everyone who had any connection to Emilio.”

  “Were any charges brought against you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did the prosecutors agree to not bring charges in exchange for your testimony?”

  “No. There was no deal, man. I’m just tellin’ what happened.”

  “You were at Gabriella’s house frequently, right?”

  “I was trying to help them. I could’ve done more, but Gabriella didn’t want that. She shut me out.” He frowned. “And look what happened.”

  “Let’s be clear on this. You didn’t see who shot Sanchez, did you?”

  “I didn’t see it, no. But I heard her voice. I saw the way she looked at Esperanza. There was no doubt in my mind what she was saying. She was telling that little girl that she killed Sanchez to keep her safe.”

  He was getting nowhere with this witness and feared he was making it worse, reminding the jury what he had said. So he sat down.

  Jazlyn spoke. “No redirect. The prosecution rests, your honor.”

  The judge pounded her gavel. “Mr. Pike, are you prepared to start the defense case this afternoon?”

  “Of course,” he said, even though he had no idea who he would call first or what he would do to salvage the case.

  This last witness changed everything. The outlook seemed bleak last night, but now it looked like an epic fail. Now the jury had eyewitness testimony about Gabriella all but confessing to the murder. How could he possibly refute that?

  Unless he put Gabriella on the witness stand. He didn’t want to. It was bad trial strategy and would probably cause more problems than it solved. Gabriella was too easily flustered, confused, and even if she hadn’t committed murder, she had a lot of dubious activities in her past Jazlyn would bring out.

  But if he didn’t put her on the stand, how could he refute this new testimony?

  Jazlyn had hammered the final nail into the coffin, not just proving murder, but premeditated, intentional, even gleeful murder. The sort of thing that got criminal defendants the death penalty.

  If he didn’t come up with something fast, Gabriella would be convicted of first-degree murder—and sent to death row.

  The Meaning of Justice

  Chapter 40

  Dan slumped on the sofa in their front office, staring at the big screen TV, which was completely blank. Didn’t matter. He had his own show playing in his mind, and it wasn’t a comedy. More like a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions.

  He’d blown it. Sure, he started this case with bad facts
, but he should’ve seen Alvarez’ testimony coming. He should’ve tried harder to find the man. Alvarez made Gabriella look guilty. And he did not see the slightest indication that Alvarez was prevaricating. The despondent suitor was simply reporting what he’d heard.

  He didn’t protect his client. And now Gabriella was on a beeline to a lethal injection.

  He shifted his head and saw the faintest traces of his face reflected in the television screen. How had he gotten himself into this mess? His life had been fine before, perfect. He did what he wanted, took the cases he liked, pursued his passion for justice. He did the best he could and didn’t worry about it if a case went sour. He wasn’t burdened with family, colleagues, or concerns. He wasn’t dependent upon anyone.

  Now he was in this weirder-than-weird law firm, surrounded by so-called teammates, burdened with an impossible case—

  And a little girl who mistakenly thought he would be the one who saved her.

  He cared about her so much it made his stomach hurt.

  What was happening to him?

  Maria emerged from the back room and sat beside him, not too close, but closer than he might’ve expected. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

  “It’s written all over your face. You’re blaming yourself.”

  “I should’ve prevented this.”

  “You’re a lawyer, not a magician. Gabriella has a tall deck of cards stacked against her. We knew that when we started. There’s a reason Mr. K calls us the last-chance lawyers, and it’s not because our cases are easy.”

  “Thanks for the attempted pep talk, but it isn’t working. I blew it.”

  Maria shook her head. “Brian used to get the same way.”

  “Brian?”

  “The guy you replaced. In a manner of speaking.” The suggestion seemed to make her uncomfortable. “He got this way at the same time—right after the prosecution finished presenting their evidence, when everything seems grimmest. Your outlook will improve once you start putting on your case.”

  “Except we don’t really have a case. Or evidence.”