Chapter 5 - Round One
She woke me up early, after having first put me to bed early. The little white pill, really did put me to sleep quick. She stayed up, taking calls and making them. She had tossed me a pair of big, saggy pajamas to sleep in, and pointed to the smaller guest bedroom. Yeah. After a shower. A shower, where I felt weird. Because I threw a deadbolt a front door would be proud to sport, and this was a bathroom. Locking the door to take a shit, lest you're vulnerable and unprotected when someone comes for you in your own home. Or? When you're taking a bath. Naked and vulnerable, that's when a good predator will come for you.
I awoke to her rapping on my little guest bedroom quite early. If I would have slept in? She had keys to open my own deadbolt on my own little bank vault she provided me with. My inexpensive new casual clothes she had helpfully provided me with? Were handed to me at the door. She had washed and dried and folded them. A female had done my laundry. I could tell, because they smelled like fabric softener and dryer sheets had been used. Just like my own girl would have done. I'm a guy, I'm just interested in soap and water then drying them in a tumbling heated chamber. Girls want the clothes to smell pretty.
Breakfast was quick. She was watching the front windows, overlooking the front lawn of the row of townhouses. Not at all unlike where my girl had lived out here, before getting her own house in the city. A little more luxury to it, because she made a little more money at her job. But still, the same basic thing. She reported on the conditions outside.
"Press. Most of them are staking out the crime scene. Police don't have you. The better reporters have contacts and can call around to all the hotels and motels looking. A couple reporters took an educated guess, and there they are. Already camped out on my front lawn."
"Wonderful."
"Isn't it? The press, is like hyenas nibbling on the carcass that the police and prosecutors leave behind. We get mobbed like rock stars while this is in the news cycle."
"What do I do."
"Nothing. Just look pretty. Don't answer any questions. Two words. No comment. That's it. Easy. Don't worry. I'm used to handling them."
She texted then made a call.
"Its me. Guess what's outside my front door."
"Yeah. Can you get a uniform and a car here?"
She smiled.
"Like I said. Resources. There's already a sympathetic uniform in a patrol car parked halfway down the block. I got texted his cell number. He'll move in and scatter the vultures. He's already on routine traffic patrol."
"Nice."
"You ready for the big show?"
"As ready as I'm ever going to be. Sure."
I was surprised she was dressed casual, too. The only thing professional, was the big leather briefcase thing any lawyer would have with them.
The press mobbed us at the front door. She grinned at them, and just gave them the no comment routine. They shouted questions. She told me to stay here, after texting I suppose the cop in his cop car. She confidently strode out and walked right through them, ignoring them. The cop car had pulled up at the end of the walkway to the parking spaces at the curb out front.
She drove up. Slowly and carefully, over the curb and right up the wide cement walkway that led to her front porch. She came in to get me, and we waited while the uniformed cop got the press attention. He explained they were on private property, and they better get their ass off of it, and onto the public sidewalk. Where they knew they belonged, and he wasn't putting up with any shit from them.
When the press tried to ignore him, and reformed their little gaggle of vultures behind him, he waved us out. She backed up slowly, but without stopping. Reporters had to jump out of the way, the few that tried standing there to stop her and get more camera time out of the situation. She cracked her window to them, pausing at the road.
"You scratch my car? I'll make damn sure you or your employer pays to have it painted and detailed. You already ruined my flower garden. When I review my security camera footage? Anyone that was in my flower garden, can look forward to simple trespassing fines."
They tried shouting more questions, trying to get a statement. Anything.
"No comment. Enjoy your fines."
She rolled the window up. Then backed out under the direction of the cop in the middle of the street, playing crossing guard. She stopped to crack her window again, to thank him for helping "scatter the vultures". He asked if she was "serious" about the simple trespassing fines. She nodded.
"They have a right to know. It is their job. But? This is private property, its where I live. They have every right to be on public property. Which in this case? Is the sidewalk and road. I'll send you the security camera footage, so whoever ruined my flower garden, gets the same treatment."
He scanned the vultures.
"Will do, ma'am. Have a nice day."
"Thanks. I appreciate it."
Her icy all business demeanor? Dropped as soon as we were driving. It came back the instant she set foot on the front walkway to the police station. She led me right in, and bypassed the waiting chairs. Right up to the glass window. She knocked with her knuckles with several quick light raps to get the lady in uniform's attention.
"Can I help you?"
"Don't know if you can. But you may."
She got "the look" for correcting her on her grammar. She didn't care.
"Well? What MAY I help you with."
"I'm here for an informal sit down. Just tell me what conference room its in."
"I need your ID."
She flipped open her little case, drivers license on one side, something indicating who she worked for, on the other. She had flipped her a business card before starting out already. When the lady went to grab her ID, she yanked it back.
"But I need your ID. Its standard procedure, that I hold your---"
"You see my card? I suggest you look again. If you don't recognize the firm? I strongly suggest you call someone who can bring you up to speed."
"But... its standard p---"
She leaned in smiling.
"I don't really care, whatever you think your procedure is. If I refuse to be detained, by having my ID held hostage? I know my rights. I don't play your little game, and let uniforms walk all over me. I suggest? I know you got a little schedule back there. Just match my business card name, up to a conference room number. Tell me that number? Then you can go back to your... procedure that works on everyone else."
Uniformed lady looked at the business card again, and grabbed a clipboard.
"Conference room four, second floor. If you have a seat, I'll find someone who can escort you---"
"I know where it is. The escort? Can go do something more useful. Thanks for your time."
She went to just walk back and lead us to where we were going. The lady came out and tried to stop her.
"Don't even think about putting your hands on me. I'm here all the time, for the same thing over and over again. You're new. I'm used to the last aquarium girl. She was a lot nicer."
"She's on vacation, I was told t---"
"I don't care what you were told. Go back, and wait on the fish food. I know where I'm going. Have a nice day."
She held out the business card.
"You too. Bitch."
"Bitch, huh. Like you really matter."
"I'm a cop. I have a badge."
"Yeah. Another academy graduate. All females? Pass academy automatically. If you were anything useful? You'd have more than just a uniform and a badge. You'd be issued a firearm, and a cop car and a partner. But? Here you are. Office gopher. Filling in for the uniformed receptionist. You impress someone, you might be allowed to answer the phone one day."
Wow. I just kept quiet. She started walking back and taking me with her.
"I'm calling someone! I'm telling them, you went up without permission!"
She gave her a parting shot over her shoulder without stopping.
"Have fun with that."
When we were alone in the elevator to the second floor I asked her about it.
"Was that really necessary?"
"Sadly? Yes. From the moment you walk into a police station? Its like a business meeting, if you're not under arrest. Sit there. Wait. Stand up. Go here now. They're taught to do that. To be in charge, and issue the orders. It gets people who don't know any better, to fall into line and do whatever they're told. Its a trick that works. Me? I'm taught not to fall for it. So yeah. From the moment I walk into a police station? I let them know right up front. I'm not intimidated."
I shrugged.
"You're the expert."
She smiled at me.
"I'm only like this? When its work. Outside of work? I'm a normal person. But when I'm working, I can't afford to be. Most people, come in here and ask. Then, everyone tells you, how its going to be. That? Is their game. Most police authority? Isn't. Its just a game they're taught, to take control of the situation, the conversation, and get what they want. Like seizing my ID, so I'm trapped. Fuck that. I know the games. I know where their authority really ends. When they try to tell me? I tell them back. Then? I negotiate. If a lawyer just got told how its going to go, they wouldn't be a very good one."
I was impressed. My girl, I was always impressed when she used her ID's and language to get a better deal. This was the same thing, but on steroids. I realized that even though my girl was a lawyer too, she wasn't practicing. This one? Practiced. My girl, didn't do a lot of defense work when she was still a lawyer. This one? Did.
"If people didn't call and complain I was a bitch? I wouldn't be doing my job correctly. This..."
She indicated the whole police station building with her hand motions.
"This, is the enemy camp. We could just as easily, have done this informal sit down at a conference room in my law firm's office. Or? Out to lunch. Its informal, we all work in the same league. Outside of a courtroom? Isn't game day. But... they specifically insisted on doing it here. Why? To try to intimidate. Sit and wait. Someone will be along to walk you up, when we feel like it. Seize my ID, so I'm trapped. See the game?"
"Now that you mention it... its the same way a cop pulls you over, and holds my ID. Until he tells me I'm free to go."
"There you go. Routine traffic stop? I don't hand over my ID. If you intend to detain me? I demand to know the reason. It starts the moment we walk in. Right now? She's calling up, and complaining. The people she called? Already know they have to deal with someone that's not intimidated, and knows the real rules."
"Same way when you came and scooped me up at the crime scene."
She smiled.
"Yep. When its going to be a fight anyways? Take it right to them."
She did seem to have a sort of scorched earth policy, a sense of shock and awe. She marched us right to the conference room, and walked right in. No waiting, no asking. We were early, no one in here yet. Water and glasses already out. Coffee and Styrofoam cups and all the little things that go with coffee? On its own cart next to a counter. She was at her ease.
"You want anything? Coffee, donuts... feel free. Drink and eat as much as you like."
"Is that part of the game?"
"Sure. Simple business psychology. You wait. You wait to be offered things. I do this all the time. I want coffee? I get it. I want donuts? I take them. That's what they're there for. Go ahead. Let them come in, and see you munching on several of their free donuts, on your second cup of coffee. And? Anytime you want more of either one? Don't ask. Just get right up and get one. If anyone says anything? Just shrug and do it anyways. What are they gonna do. Arrest you for getting your own coffee? Grabbing another doughnut? No."
"You're way too good at this."
"You set the tone, the instant you walk in. I already know how this is going to go. They're bluffing, pure and simple. They have? Nothing. But... they're going to bluff their hand, and try to gently take control of the conversation. Take control of the situation."
"You won't let them."
"Not just no? But a big... hell no. Look. Most people, are intimidated by cops and uniforms and guns. I deal with them all the time, they're nothing to me. But, intimidated people? Get polite. Once you get polite? They use that politeness. They stay polite, and gently suggest things. You naturally, go along with reasonable sounding polite suggestions. Me? I'm taught not to fall for the bullshit."
"Where's the... business outfit at."
"This isn't court. I come in dressed up, you all dressed up in a defendant's suit? I'm defending you, you're a defendant. You walk in casual? Its the opposite. You walk into an informal meeting like this, you got a fresh haircut and a new suit on? You look scared. We're not meeting people in charge. We're just having a meeting. Most of the law enforcement game? Intimidation. When you don't fall for it? They don't know what to do, or how to handle you."
So we're sitting there gabbing. Coffee and a couple donuts. I was going for plain or powdered, avoiding the more expensive filled ones. She stopped me.
"Start having fun right now. Lets eat all the filled donuts. Here..."
She loaded up a little paper plate with the half dozen creme filled ones. Three for each of us. When everyone came in, we were finishing up. She took out her little digital recorder, and punched the button immediately, so everyone could see she did it.
"Well. Nice to see you haven't changed. I already heard you made your usual entrance, down in the front room."
"Your new fish, down in the aquarium? Tried to give me shit."
"Yeah. I heard all about it. You're a real class act."
"I'm not paid to be nice. I'm paid to get results. Really, you guys ought to try that sometime."
This was the detective who claimed my dead girl's house as his scene. Claimed all my belongings and clothes? As his. I got to say. A whole different detective, with her sitting next to me. He casually went for his own coffee and donuts.
"Well. Nice to see you scarfed up all the creme filled. You know, everyone knows I like a creme filled. Thanks."
She winked at me.
"Sorry. Didn't see your name on them. You're five minutes late. Meeting time, is meeting time. You snooze? You lose. Me? I leave early, so I'm on time."
"Would you relax? You act like we're in court. Its an informal sit down."
By this time the others came in.
"And what's with the recorder running. This is informal."
"You think I'm stupid? Think again. I know you're recording this conference room. If you want to reference something said here? You now have an audio recording, and can introduce it later. If I don't have a recording, and I want to reference something you or someone else said later on down the line? Oh. I don't have any proof, I just claim you said it. And your recording? Magically got misplaced. Now then. Everyone knows my recorder is running, so? You can spare me the wiretapping law bullshit. You were all informed, on audio, recording is taking place."
"Jesus Christ..."
"Can it. I've been screwed before on the little we have a recording when it benefits us, oh, we suddenly lost it when I had something good on it for me. I ain't falling for the same bullshit ever again."
Everyone announced their names, for the recording. The judge refereeing this little pow wow, arrived last and walked in. Everyone stood up because a judge walked in. She didn't and put her arm out to get me to not get up. The judge stood and stared at her for that.
"What? You need something?"
"Its considered polite, to stand up when his honor walks in."
"We're not in court. Outside of a courtroom? Your special powers end. You're just a guy that wears a black dress, to me. You? Don't intimidate me any more than these clowns here do. Which is not at all."
"Quite a mouth you have on you there. You might end up in my courtroom one day."
He eyed her. She just eyed him back.
"Oh. Threatening me, that because you don't like my attitude? You're insinuating you'll take it out on me, and my future client that ends up in your court room? And, on a recording. Smooth move, Jimmy."
He looked around at everyone. He clearly wasn't used to this kind of treatment.
"Actually? I prefer your honor. And if you insist? Its James, not Jim, not Jimmy."
"I don't care what you prefer. Jimmy. If you're done posturing? Sit down and we can get started. My time, is valuable."
The judge playing referee, just shook his head and sat down. I was starting to pick up on her game. She just ordered the judge to take a seat, she had things to do. He eventually sat down. I could see it on everyone's face. They were all used to making the suggestions. This was something new for them, and they clearly didn't like it. Not one bit. The judge. Jimmy. Started the proceedings.
"Okay, people. I was asked to referee a little informal early meeting. Keep everyone from scratching each other's eyes out. I think we've all done this before. Police go first, its tradition. Defense goes second, again its tradition. If the prosecution wants to chime in? Hey. The more the merrier. Everyone okay with that game plan?"
We all nodded or grunted.
"Detective? Go ahead."
"Pretty straightforward. We have a brutal murder. The public is shocked. Everyone, is demanding answers. We found this guy, at the crime scene. He said, his wife is dead. We quickly found out? He's not the husband. They're not married. He's just the boyfriend. Coworkers of the victim? No one ever saw her wear a diamond ring before. What do I have. Boyfriend, misrepresenting himself as the husband. Standing over a dead body. His girlfriend. Now, as much as I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings? When a female is murdered, there's a historical high percentage, that the husband... or the boyfriend? Is responsible. I got a body. I got a suspect standing over it. I got preliminary forensics back, this is a full court press. I got the suspect's prints all over the place, all over the bathroom. I even got some blood from forensics. Came from a swab taken off of his skin. Now? My only early suspect? Runs out and gets all lawyer-ed up, and she spirits him away from the crime scene. Best law firm in town, obviously warned ahead of time, to be ready. I can't even finish questioning the suspect at the crime scene. And that? Is my initial statement. I'm being prevented from doing my job. If I have to issue a warrant? I will."
The judge saw he was done with his opening.
"Counselor? Your turn."
"Let's get our facts straight. This man? Is not a suspect. He's not even a witness. He just had the great misfortune to find the body at the scene. He fell over, in shock. He crawled to a phone when he could, and called 911. Someone had to be the person to find the body, it was just him."
The detective cut in.
"I'm required, to entertain every possibility, of---"
"Shut up. I wasn't done yet. I sat here, and heard you out. You? Will sit there, and when I yield the floor? Someone else gets the talking stick. Or... didn't I hear Jimmy's rules right."
The detective looked at Jimmy the dishonored his honor, and he shrugged.
"Detective? She did wait for you to say you were done. Counselor? If you have more, and it clearly sounds like you do, please continue."
"I handled routine lawyer matters for the decedent. Filed some everyday paperwork. Lawyers typically don't handle their own routine legal affairs. As soon as I heard she had been found, and the police were holding him? I got right over there. I don't like the insinuations you're making, detective. First off. The decedent's marriage or engagement plans? Are none of your affair. When and where she decides to wear her diamond ring? Is between her, and him. Not you. What are you implying, anyways. That he went over and killed her, for not wearing her ring. Then puts the ring on her. Then? Calls 911. Its ludicrous. And any judge that signs off on a warrant, simply because someone found the body that had every right to be there? Needs to go back to law school."
The detective tried again.
"But..."
"I'm not done. When I give up the talking stick? You can try again. Forensics? Please. Don't make me laugh. Perhaps, in the course of your so called investigation, talking to coworkers? You might have learned that her fiancee, not boyfriend. Fiancee... comes and stays on the weekends. Actually? I'd find it more unusual if his prints and all kinds of forensics weren't all over the place. Then, that would maybe indicate he didn't belong there to find her. Now. You just claimed... you have blood, from a forensics swab. Is that true? Or are you making it up."
"I have it."
"Great. How about I tell you what you have. Let me guess. They got some tiny scrap, of well dried blood. Already degrading from sitting a couple days. Dried to hell and back. No spatter. No spray. And? You already know that, because forensics doesn't lie. Now. Can you sit there and say you found blood, on this man. Yes. But its disingenuous at best, and misleading and omission of fact, to pretend you have some forensics trump card. You want to play that game? Enjoy it now, detective. You won't get access to him if you keep this shit up, the way you're starting out. You threaten a warrant? Go ahead, see if I care. I go with him. He won't answer any questions, at all. Your warrant? Just a piece of paper to me. You? In fact have... nothing. At all. You have no motive. If you found a murder weapon? You'd have led with that, because that? Would be real evidence. I know exactly what you're up to, detective. And I'll call a spade a spade. You have a high profile, hideous murder. You grabbed the first person around, here the guy that found the body and went into shock. You, and your asshole butt buddies you call coworkers? I heard you guys, putting words in his mouth, denying him medical attention. And that? Is why you don't get access to him. You have nothing. You? Are just posturing, making it look like you might have something? That you know leads nowhere. So. Here's how its going to be. If you're interested."
"No, go on. Go ahead and tell the police and prosecutors how to do their job, and how we have to run every step past you. This is fascinating, the gall you have."
"Thank you for the compliment, detective. You didn't read anyone their rights. You detained him and prevented medical attention. All the while? Interrogating him. You know you don't have diddly dick. Now. What exactly are you trying to threaten us with. A warrant? The game you're playing up to now, and how you're playing it? A piece of paper gets you nothing except him silent, and me hovering over him, watching your every move. What are you going to try next? File murder one? Whoop Dee Do. Go on. File it. I dare you."
"Do you really?"
"Yep. You don't have the balls. If you do have the balls? You don't have the brains to go with it, and I question how you made detective, let alone got your gold spray painted onto your shield. Go on. I seriously, dare you to file murder one. Please, do it. I'll tear you to shreds, right at the preliminary. Flip a coin if you can even get it held over for a court date. You give no motive, and no evidence."
"I have scene prints, and blood..."
"Seriously? I saw the crime scene photos. Its horrific. You honestly going to sit there and tell me, that if he did this, he wouldn't be covered in blood? And even if he wiped off before calling 911, it would have shown up in swabs from down in his pores. So? Try again. No. You already know all this, better than I do. You? Are just taking something to hang your hat on, buying time to look good for the cameras. Instead? Of trying to find actual leads. So go ahead. Blow some more hot air at me. Get a warrant. I'll wait. Better yet? Please, file charges. I'm actually hoping? You and the DA's office are stupid enough to try that game. Please, I'm begging you. File charges. There. I'm done, for now."
Everyone just looked at her. No one was used to this, that much was obvious. Jimmy the judge, tried a mild reprimand, that she was rude and confrontational. That, proved to be a mistake. For Jimmy.
"Jimmy. Rude, and confrontational? Let me tell you, and all of you. I know exactly what the game plan is. Posture for the cameras, pretending you're following up and have a suspect. When its no longer news and the press vultures give you breathing room? Oh, that went nowhere. You cut him loose. Fuck that game plan, Jimmy. That's what I think is rude, and worse."
Jimmy asked if she was done.
"Nope. Confrontational? Would it amaze anyone in this room, besides this poor man sitting beside me. That we have a confrontational legal system. The police and the prosecutors? Get infinite resources and so little restraints on their actions, it ain't even funny. If you're a civilian? The police and the prosecutors? Are the enemy. And? That's what the police are taught about every civilian. They're all criminals, and its their job to figure out what they can pin on them. Don't you dare try to deny it? I've seen the coursework at the academy. The civilian? Is the enemy. Us against them. The only person on the civilian's side, to stand between them and all this? Is the law firm, and the lawyer. Me. So yeah, I'm confrontational. You come at my client, and you try to smear him so you all look like you might have something? You don't, you know you don't, and you don't care what it does to him."
Jimmy asked again if she was done.
"No, Jimmy. You don't all like it, that I know the game plan? To play lets pretend we're doing our job, ruining an obviously innocent man's life? Tough titty. Apparently, you all got so used to pissing around with assigned flunkies from legal aid appointed to people... you think all the lawyers just roll over and play dead, badger the client to take deals and do your job for you. Then, sit up and beg in the court room. Now. I expect this shit, from the cops, and the DA's office. But you, Jimmy. Judges. In that courtroom, when you put that robe on? Its your job, to see everything goes down according to rules and laws and procedures. But? The judges tend to unofficially play on the side of the police and the prosecutor's side. Ain't that right, Jimmy."
The judge got indignant. Started blustering, losing his cool. Where did she get off making accusations wholesale, that the judges were not doing their jobs correctly.
She smiled. Took a bite of one of the obviously highly coveted creme filled donuts. Smiled a little more, then tossed him some papers out of her brief case.
"Read them and weep, Jimmy. I know how this game's played. You assign people legal aid free lawyers. They don't have the experience, or the resources, to actually defend their clients properly. I know it, you know it, we all know it. The lawyer rolls over and plays dead, and sits up and begs for you all. Well? I don't. Me, my firm. We're not intimidated. By the police, by the DA's office... nor are we intimidated by guys that wear funny black dresses. Jimmy? Glance it over. Then you can adjust your attitude. I'll wait."
"What even is this..."
"I monitor other trials, in between my own work. I don't take breaks, I don't take days off. That? Is excerpts from your own minutes, of your own trial, Jimmy. I helpfully highlighted the part that has me so concerned. Jimmy. So used to dealing with legal aid flunkies, at beck and call... scared to file an appeal on you. You? Had the nerve to pull a ray-ray, in open court. We both know, that testimony was hearsay, it should have been disallowed. The legal aid lawyer? Even objected. You? Over ruled it. You then admitted it, under Raes Justi. Would you like to know, Jimmy. How many appeals have gone in favor of that choice by judges, in appellate court, when the appeal is filed?"
Jimmy said nothing. Shut him right up.
"Zero, Jimmy. Not a one. In fact? No judge that wants to have their opinion taken seriously, would ever even try it. Its been labeled, as a... what's the quote? Oh yeah... Raes Justi. Latin for the things that happened. Its simply a judge's refusal to think, and provide proper jurisprudence. Its only seen, when a judge does back flips to aid the prosecution, sneak in non admissible bullshit, that's clearly not admissible."
Jimmy looked like she had slapped him in the face.
"You try shit like that in my courtroom, when I'm in it working? I dare you. I'm not some legal aid freebie, putting my time in until I get a better offer. I'm not at all afraid of any pressure the system will try to put on me, for launching a full appeal. I'm backed up, with my firm's full faith and confidence. We go in? We go all the way. We have lawyers, with experience in the state circuit and appellate game. We have some, that specialize in the federal circuit, if you wanna appeal back and try it that far. We have an even bigger office building, in downtown DC. I'm simply not intimidated, by the whole... buddy buddy system the police, the prosecutors, and even the judges got going on. You pull that shit on me or one of mine? I'll call you out, right in open court, that you're practicing law from the bench."
Jimmy was still speechless.
"This... whole game? Comes to a screeching halt, right now."
Jimmy sighed, and neither admitted nor denied anything.
"So. Are you done?"
"Almost. Time of death. Its been estimated. Its in the forensics report you no doubt are sitting on. You know, the one that says you got a microscopic sample of old, dried blood. Not enough to make him a suspect. I mean that report."
The detective sighed.
"Yeah."
"I'm no forensics expert. Looks to me? Like a couple days. Going by discoloration and swelling. Its what my research gave me. How am I doing."
"Go on."
"When exactly, were you detectives? Planning on admitting you have exculpatory evidence, right out of the gate on my client. That I can prove that you, are playing games with an obviously completely innocent man. For no reason other than to parade on camera, to make it look good. Hmm? When were you planning on admitting the parking ticket. Detective."
"How do you..."
"My firm has resources. We have investigators. Because we can't trust the prosecution to live up to the terms of what full disclosure means. You have a parking ticket? On the other side of the state. He's back there, and you know it? When time of death says he would have to be here, for you to even entertain the idea he did it. He also? Has time of death alibis, from coworkers and other people that see him every day. The traffic cameras on the toll road? Logged his license plate, and you can see him on camera at the toll booths. With unimpeachable dates and times. The rest stops? Another place monitored. I can tell you which rest stops he took a piss in? And which one he took a shit in, judging by the length of time in the restroom. Again? Law enforcement installed and monitored cameras. Time and date codes? Unimpeachable."
"Well... thanks for bringing this information to---"
"Shove it up your ass, detective. You already have all this. In fact? You already have the parking ticket. The investigator? Interviewed the meter maid that made the ticket out. And curiously? She remembers a nice detective that already contacted her, about this same ticket. Hmm. Hope you used a burner phone? Or I'll get your phone records on that. Plus? I already got the statement from the meter maid. You assholes? You know you're just playing a dog and pony game, prancing and strutting for the cameras. You know it. I know it. And I'm not putting up with it."
She seemed done. For now, anyways. Unless someone else tried to set her off again. Everyone eyed her suspiciously. She was clearly a dangerous thing to their little world they were used to playing fast and loose in. Jimmy cut in quite dry on the break.
"Impressive. You made fun of the lead detective, and the judge both. Why did the DA escape your wrath, or is he just lucky today. You threatened everyone else at the meeting. Why not go for a perfect record. Bat a thousand."
"Don't mind if I do. Your honor."
Jimmy smiled and nodded. It was the first time she spoke politely or deferentially to him since this circus began. Now that she was done scolding everyone? She went to polite. Hmm. Kinda like the cops usually do. Bluster then get sweet to get you talking. She looked dramatically under the table, then back up. Smiling and beaming at the DA. Who took the bait, grinning.
"What. Did I wear the wrong socks and shoes with my suit? My apologies for not being fashionable enough for you."
"No. Expensive loafers. Looks like real silk socks, too. Nice."
"Your point?"
"I'm just looking for Bobby. Where is he?"
"Bobby..."
"We call him... Big Guns Bobby. If you really wanted to be serious, and try to rattle me and my firm? You'd have sent Bobby to this little sit down. But no. The DA? Came himself. If you were serious, you'd have sent the big gun into the meeting. No. You know this ain't going nowhere, not really. My guess, is this. You're just along for this ride, with the detectives. Because the DA's office, is in the same boat as they are. Pressure, to do something. And the best you can do to try to get breathing room? Is do what you're doing to Bill here, to save face and look good."
The DA raised his hands up and back down.
"You expect me to confirm or deny that. Seriously."
"Its all right. You're like everyone else. In a pickle. Political critters that move and shake? Are demanding action. I understand that. Now that we all know who is holding what cards. I'm willing for us to start over. Lets try this again. The way things are supposed to be."
The DA mulled it.
"Meaning exactly..."
"The police? Agree to go after real leads. Instead of pursuing a no win show for the cameras. If you waste the first 48 to 72 hours? You start with a colder trail. The victim? Was a friend of mine. My suggestion? Take all these resources, and just... try."
The DA thought about it. Tented fingers under his chin, index fingers pushing up on the chin.
"Detective? Your thoughts."
The detective pointed to the recorder. Held his hands up.
She smiled, and picked it up, and dramatically clicked the big red record button off.
"There. Now? We can all start over again. We can all try, being polite now. Your honor? Feel free to know I won't be contacting legal aid about... ray ray. Not that I expect a legal aid lawyer to be in a position to pursue a serious appeal. But I meant it, when I made my point. Make no mistake about this. My firm, and me. We go all in. And just in case everyone might think they can play the waiting game, to bleed my client until we leave him broke and defenseless? That's not happening. We took this voluntarily. Pro bono. My firm's reputation? Any case we take, no matter for how much or how little. Its our reputation on the line."
I just sipped my coffee and started in on what was now the last creme filled doughnut. Hey. I was told to keep my mouth shut, and look pretty. I follow instructions.
"And. If anyone has any strange ideas. Maybe... lying to me, then doing what you feel like doing anyways? Know this. I'll rip you to shreds, right from the preliminary. No routine preliminary, everyone holds over, set a court date. No. Full preliminary. We have our own court reporter. All the little games you like to pull at the preliminary, see how it sounded later, then adjust your story when you get in court? Off the table. You will be held, feet to the fire, with what you have at the preliminary. Which as we all now know? Is nothing. Your forensic coup, the microscopic scrap of dried old blood? You won't get away with forensics guy just saying... we found blood... and using that to get a trial date. I'll have my own forensics expert there to give testimony. He's published, and he gets the unexpurgated forensics report. Your pet forensics guy playing to your game? Will be forced to admit its true nature. You will get hit, with the parking ticket, credit card records, traffic cameras. Documenting his complete inability to have even been here. Just in case the new wacky theory, becomes... maybe he killed her, then sat there for days, then called 911."
"You done?"
"Almost. You go back on a handshake with my firm? You'll pay for it. I'll file the proceedings, that the detectives had exculpatory evidence, right from the start. And sat on it and went ahead with malicious prosecution. The DA's office? Well. You can either turn your back and pretend it was presented to you in full faith and you didn't know. Or? You can side with them, and risk the scandal and decision. Oh. And one more thing."
"Yes..."
"If you do go back on a handshake, and file murder one or anything else? Do me a favor, would you? Please... I'm literally begging here. Send Big Guns Bobby. Do you have any idea, how good I'd look to my senior partner that supervises me? If I get to tear him to shreds. The joke is, the first full partner that gets to gut him in court? Gets the next corner office. I don't expect you guys to like me enough to help my career out that much, but hey. Please file. I'm literally daring, no... begging you."
The DA chuckled.
"Yeah. That's what Bobby's for. Nice to know he has the... we'll say respect... of your law firm. Sounds to me, like a ringing endorsement of his capabilities."
"Hey. I'm an up and coming prize fighter. I have, a squeaky clean and completely innocent client. No criminal history. His parking tickets, won't get it. I have evidence that's exculpatory. I have statements, that prove you guys had exculpatory and went ahead anyways. If you want to send Big Guns Bobby into court, with one hand tied behind his back? I can't wait. But, you probably wouldn't risk the best fighter in your bullpen. You'd probably pick someone you didn't like that much to take one for the team."
The DA mulled it over.
"Detective? Recorder's off. We try starting over again?"
He splayed his hands for a second.
"Recorder stays off. I'll listen. See where it goes. The DA says..."
"Hey. You want my thoughts, where we are now?"
She toasted with her coffee cup.
"Fine. My only issue. You have ever so... competently, I might say. Laid out how things... very well might, or might not, mind you. Actually be. If you seem to be done threatening everyone, and protecting your client so effectively. I want to point out. You? Are as of right now, it would seem to be... winning. All of us? Are in the same pickle as we started out. High pressure system has moved in, and is sitting on us. Hard. We'd like to survive the storm, too. I'm not hearing a counter proposition. I'm not hearing... a proposal."
She nodded.
"The recorder stays off. I'll keep the recording, simply because I don't trust the police, or the DA's office? As far as I can throw you. Sorry, guys. If you knew how many times I've been lied to and promised things? Then got bent over and fucked hard for trusting your side? It will never happen again."
The DA held his hands up.
"What are you then, offering."
"Well. Now that we're all polite and got the eye scratching out of the way. I? Am charged with defending my client. Vigorously. I'm happy, for now. Detective? Would you like access to my client, and pick his brains? You talk nice, all your boys are told to be polite and sweet? Maybe I can arrange play dates. As long as everyone plays nice. Who knows if he knows anything that might help. His fiancee? Is dead, and he's distraught. Do you want a pissed off innocent man? Or, would you rather have a cooperative possible witness. God forbid a real lead could come out of that bunny trail. Because what was going on, up to now? Leads away from answers. The DA wants a proposal?"
"Wouldn't hurt. If we are in this pickle you laid out, then we're still in it. If its even like that, not saying it is."
"I understand. Here's what I'm prepared to offer. You. The detective and his team, the DA's office. Off the record, we all know the assholes that the public was stupid enough to elect them? Are stamping their feet, demanding something. I will allow you both? To play the dog and pony show, you want to play. To keep the political critters placated. You can bring him in, on camera, as many times as you think will help. My client? Will no comment everyone. As will I. As will? The police and the DA's office. The media hounds, can speculate to their heart's content. No leaks. No details. When the news cycle breaks on this shit-storm? Its over. You guys, weathered the storm. My client? Is not going to kill himself. Me? I get to look good. Everybody? Wins. When we agree to work together, and not against one another. And? I'll toss in a bonus."
The DA raised hands and wiggled his fingers.
"Who doesn't like a bonus. What kind."
"You let this string along, in this holding pattern I laid out? Don't forget. I have unfettered access. To investigators and research. Your honor? I'm not dismissing you. I was just wondering, if you could stand a bathroom break. Coffee could have worked its magic. As referee, the children are playing nice. Maybe we could all talk shop for a few minutes. Not an order, a suggestion."
Jimmy nodded. He liked being his honor again. He declared he did indeed have a bladder that needed attending to.
"Kids? Fight nice. Crack the door when you're done, sharing bedtime stories. Wouldn't want to see the little boys and girls in their PJ's."
He left and closed the door. The detective asked with his hands, what. The DA took the lead again.
"Ominous. What. Since we're sharing now."
She raised her hand and held it up.
"Who here, entertains the idea. That... someone higher up, with influence. Might be responsible for this. Just a possibility. The kind of possibility? We're all scared to speak of."
The detective and the DA's hand went up briefly.
"Yeah. You guys, go snooping around the big dogs? You get the boot on the back of your necks. But. You look around quietly, and don't alert anyone... my investigators, that I have? Can interview people to try to figure out what the hell the victim could have been into, that was so dangerous. I think we already know, that this only happens to someone, one of two ways. One? A deranged serial killer claimed a victim. Or, and more likely to me and my sensibilities here... she accidentally pissed off someone very important, and this was the fallout. She probably didn't even know what she was into, or what could happen."
The DA nodded.
"Detective? Detect. You got the magic guts for hunches."
He sighed.
"My job. When I'm allowed to even do it... is to generate leads. I want results. We weren't going to get results, the way things were playing out. I happen to have a possible suggestion. A technique."
The DA was all ears.
"It doesn't leave this room. But, its no secret that if you try to interview someone higher up, that might know something? You get nowhere. But... what does happen, and it could be taken as a clue. You carefully, go one big shot at a time. When you feel the boot on the back of your neck? Aha. Its the last one or two. The DA's office? Hey. We both know we can't go against big people, without solid evidence. We can generate precious time? By her allowing us to string this along. We get to interview people? Softly. Pretending we're looking at the boyfriend."
"I hate to say it? She's right. It gives us a chance to try. And I have my own technique, to add to yours, detective."
"Shoot."
"Any big person, that seems to go out of their way, wanting the boyfriend looked at? That's another lead."
The detective nodded.
"Point taken. From the DA's own mouth. If we generate anything in the way of a lead like this? Can you get... phone, email. I mean quietly."
He sighed.
"Actually? I have one sympathetic judge. That I can count on, for quiet surveillance warrants. One with... the discretion required for an undertaking such as this one."
The detective wagged his head.
"And may I remind everyone in this room of something we all seem to have overlooked?"
We all looked back to see what.
"What happened to the victim? If it was something from higher up. Anyone that knows or they suspect they know? We could wake up in our own bathtub. Loose lips? Will sink this ship."