“I know I’m in over my head, Betty. I’m talking to a very good criminal lawyer about taking over, but he can’t meet with me until next week. So I’m stuck doing the arraignment.”
“I’m glad you’re getting someone to take this case.” Ami could hear the relief in her friend’s voice. “Brendan has a real hard-on for you and I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
“Believe me I want to get off this case as soon as possible. But I can’t do it today. So tell me what to do?”
“Okay, but you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone I helped you. Kirkpatrick would barbecue me if he found out.”
“I promise.”
“It’s simple. A chimpanzee can handle an arraignment. Kirkpatrick will give your client a copy of the indictment. You waive the reading but reserve the right to move against it for legal defects. Then you tell the judge that your client pleads not guilty and wants a jury trial. Also, make sure that Brendan gives you discovery of all the police reports, because that’s when he has to do it-after there’s an indictment.”
“What about bail?”
“There will be an amount set already, but it will be high. Brendan’s charged attempted murder and assault. It doesn’t matter now, though. Your guy is in the hospital, so he’s not going anywhere for a while. Let the lawyer who takes over deal with getting him out. Bail hearings get complicated.”
“Okay. The arraignment seems easy enough.”
“It is, but it’s the last easy thing you’ll do in this case.”
“I told you I’m getting out, okay. Cut me some slack. I’m stressed out as it is.”
“Sorry. I’m just concerned that you’ll get hurt.”
“I know. Thanks.” Ami paused. “What did you tell Kirkpatrick about me?”
“That you’ll sleep with him if he throws the case.”
“Think he’ll fall for it?”
“You’re not staying on the case long enough to find out, remember.”
“Seriously, what did you say?”
“The truth. You’re really smart and hardworking, but I didn’t think you took criminal cases.”
“What’s he like?”
“Brendan is as smart as you and single-minded. His wife died in a car accident three years ago and he has no children. The word is that he loved his wife and can’t stand going home to an empty house. That’s probably true because he’s always in the office working. Nothing gets by him because nothing matters except his cases. He’s arrogant and ruthless, but he’s also dedicated and scrupulously honest.”
“I told you I was getting off the case, Betty. No need to scare me anymore.”
“You wanted to know.”
“Thanks. Look, let’s get together for dinner and a movie.”
“Soon. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other.”
“The problems of being a single mom.”
“Spring for a sitter and we’ll party.”
Ami hung up. She felt calmer knowing that the arraignment was something that she could handle. Kirkpatrick’s message said that it would be held at the hospital. If they did it in the secure ward, she would not have to be in open court where her gaffs would be magnified by public scrutiny. Ami took a deep breath. She could do this. There was a small law library in the conference room. She would read the statutes on arraignments and learn as much about the law as she could. She checked her watch and decided that she might even have time to go to the law library at the courthouse and read some criminal law textbooks.
Ami was about to stand up when her intercom buzzed and Nancy told her that Dr. George French was on line two. She picked up the receiver.
“Hi, George. What’s up?”
“My friend tried to get Morelli’s army records. They don’t exist. No one named Daniel Morelli served in the Special Forces, or any other branch of the military, during Vietnam.”
Ami thought for a minute while Dr. French waited. “That fits in with his ID not checking out. If he served, it must have been under another name.”
“Or,” French added, “he never served and he’s feeding us a line.”
“I’ll confront him after the arraignment and get back to you with what I find out. Thanks.”
Television crews and shouting reporters took up most of the space in the lobby of the building that housed the hospital security ward. Ami mumbled “No comment” as she ran the gauntlet from the front door to the elevator. When the elevator doors closed, the reporters were still clamoring for something they could print. Ami leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and vowed that she would never take on another high-profile case.
When she arrived at Dr. Ganett’s office Ami found Brendan Kirkpatrick chatting with Ruben Velasco, the judge assigned to arraign Morelli. Velasco was a middle-aged Cuban whose parents had escaped from Castro’s clutches and migrated from Miami to Oregon to work in a cousin’s restaurant when their son was a teenager. Ami knew very few judges, and it was obvious that Kirkpatrick was not laboring under this disadvantage.
When Ami entered, Velasco stood and bowed slightly. He had dark curly hair, clear brown eyes, and an easy smile. When he welcomed her, Ami could hear traces of his Hispanic heritage. She shook hands with the judge and managed to look Kirkpatrick in the eye when she took his hand. His handshake was crisp and courteous but devoid of warmth. The judge introduced Ami to his court reporter, an elderly African-American named Arthur Reid.
“Arraigning Mr. Morelli in the hospital is a little unusual,” Judge Velasco explained, “but Brendan was afraid that there might be constitutional error if your client wasn’t arraigned as soon as Dr. Ganett deemed him competent to understand the proceedings.”
Ami had read enough law during lunch to realize that there could be constitutional consequences if an arraignment was delayed, but she couldn’t remember what they were, so she settled for nodding knowingly.
“We have one other issue to discuss before Dr. Ganett takes us down to see the patient. The press wants to cover the arraignment. Now I’m not about to let all the reporters you saw in the lobby into the security ward of this hospital, but Brendan suggested that we let the media designate one newspaper reporter and one television crew to represent everyone and we’ll require that all the papers and stations have access to their pictures and notes. Is that okay with you?”
Ami had no idea whether she should object, so she said she’d go along with whatever the judge thought was best. Judge Velasco’s brow wrinkled for a moment. He wasn’t used to defense attorneys being so reasonable, but he adjusted his features quickly and thanked God for small favors.
“Okay,” the judge said, “let’s get Dr. Ganett’s opinion of Mr. Morelli’s mental state on the record and we’ll do this.”
Twenty minutes later, Ami, Kirkpatrick, Judge Velasco, and his court reporter walked into the lobby outside the security ward, where a reporter from
“I see you’ve got George French working for you.”
“Did your little snitch, Dr. Ganett, tell you that?” Ami asked.
“Now, now, don’t be catty. The policeman outside Morelli’s room is under orders to report the names of Morelli’s visitors.”
“I suppose he listens in on all the attorney-client conversations, too.”
“I’m surprised at you, Mrs. Vergano. That would be against the law.”
Ami scowled at Kirkpatrick. The DA grinned. He was enjoying himself.
“So, are you going with PTSD?” Kirkpatrick asked innocently.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Actually, the law requires you to tell me. You’ve heard of reciprocal discovery?”
Ami had heard the term, but she had no idea what the statutes required her to do. Before she could think of a witty rejoinder to cover her ignorance, the television camera started filming again and Kirkpatrick moved to the
