The Lincoln Lawyer

FOURTEEN

Ted Minton had arranged for us to discuss the Roulet case in private by scheduling our conference at a time he knew the deputy district attorney he shared space with had a hearing in court. Minton met me in the waiting area and walked me back. He did not look to me to be older than thirty but he had a self-assured presence. I probably had ten years and a hundred trials on him, yet he showed no sign of deference or respect. He acted as though the meeting was a nuisance he had to put up with. That was fine. That was the usual. And it put more fuel in my tank.

When we got to his small, windowless office, he offered me his office partner’s seat and closed the door. We sat down and looked at each other. I let him go first.

“Okay,” he said. “First off, I wanted to meet you. I’m sort of new up here in the Valley and haven’t met a lot of the members of the defense bar. I know you’re one of those guys that covers the whole county but we haven’t run across each other before.”

“Maybe that’s because you haven’t worked many felony trials before.”

He smiled and nodded like I had scored a point of some kind.

“That might be true,” he said. “Anyway, I gotta tell you, when I was in law school at SC I read a book about your father and his cases. I think it was called Haller for the Defense. Something like that. Interesting guy and interesting times.”

I nodded back.

“He was gone before I really knew him, but there were a few books about him and I read them all more than a few times. It’s probably why I ended up doing this.”

“That must have been hard, getting to know your father through books.”

I shrugged. I didn’t think that Minton and I needed to know each other that well, particularly in light of what I was about to do to him.

“I guess it happens,” he said.

“Yeah.”

He clapped his hands together once, a let’s-get-down-to-business gesture.

“Okay, so we’re here to talk about Louis Roulet, aren’t we?”

“It’s pronounced Roo-lay.”

“Roooo-lay. Got it. So, let’s see, I have some things for you here.”

He swiveled his seat to turn back to his desk. He picked up a thin file and turned back to hand it to me.

“I want to play fair. That’s the up-to-the-minute discovery for you. I know I don’t have to give it to you until after the arraignment but, hell, let’s be cordial.”

My experience is that when prosecutors tell you they are playing fair or better than fair, then you better watch your back. I fanned through the discovery file but didn’t really read anything. The file Levin had gathered for me was at least four times as thick. I wasn’t thrilled because Minton had so little. I was suspicious that he was holding back on me. Most prosecutors made you work for the discovery by having to demand it repeatedly, to the point of going to court to complain to the judge about it. But Minton had just casually handed at least some of it over. Either he had more to learn than I imagined about felony prosecutions or there was some sort of play here.

“This is everything?” I asked.

“Everything I’ve gotten.”

That was always the way. If the prosecutor didn’t have it, then he could stall its release to the defense. I knew for a fact-as in having been married to a prosecutor-that it was not out of the ordinary for a prosecutor to tell the police investigators on a case to take their time getting all the paperwork in. They could then turn around and tell the defense lawyer they wanted to play fair and hand over practically nothing. The rules of discovery were often referred to by defense pros as the rules of dishonesty. This of course went both ways. Discovery was supposed to be a two-way street.

“And you’re going to trial with this?”

I waved the file as if to say its thin contents were as thin as the case.

“I’m not worried about it. But if you want to talk about a disposition, I’ll listen.”

“No, no disposition on this. We’re going balls out. We’re going to waive the prelim and go right to trial. No delays.”

“He won’t waive speedy?”

“Nope. You’ve got sixty days from Monday to put up or shut up.”

Minton pursed his lips as though what I had just told him were only a minor inconvenience and surprise. It was a good cover-up. I knew I had landed a solid punch.

“Well, then, I guess we ought to talk about unilateral discovery. What do you have for me?”

He had dropped the pleasant tone.

“I’m still putting it together,” I said. “But I’ll have it at the arraignment Monday. But most of what I’ve got is probably already in this file you gave me, don’t you think?”

“Most likely.”

“You have that the supposed victim is a prostitute who had solicited my client in here, right? And that she has continued that line of work since the alleged incident, right?”

Minton’s mouth opened maybe a half inch and then closed, but it was a good tell. I had hit him with another solid shot. But then he recovered quickly.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, “I am aware of her occupation. But what surprises me is that you know this already. I hope you aren’t sniffing around my victim, Mr. Haller?”

“Call me Mickey. And what I am doing is the least of your problems. You better take a good look at this case, Ted. I know you’re new to felony trials and you don’t want to come out of the box with a loser like this. Especially after the Blake fiasco. But this one’s a dog and it’s going to bite you on the ass.”

“Really? How so?”

I looked past his shoulder at the computer on his desk.

“Does that thing play DVDs?”

Minton looked back at the computer. It looked ancient.

“It should. What have you got?”

I realized that showing him the surveillance video from the bar at Morgan’s would be giving an early reveal of the biggest ace that I held, but I was confident that once he saw it, there would be no arraignment Monday and no case. My job was to neutralize the case and get my client out from under the government’s weight. This was the way to do it.

“I don’t have all my discovery together but I do have this,” I said.

I handed Minton the DVD I had gotten earlier from Levin. The prosecutor put it into his computer.

“This is from the bar at Morgan’s,” I told him as he tried to get it playing. “Your guys never went there but my guy did. This is the Sunday night of the supposed attack.”

“And this could have been doctored.”

“It could have been but it wasn’t. You can have it checked. My investigator has the original and I will tell him to make it available after the arraignment.”

After a short struggle Minton got the DVD to play. He watched silently as I pointed out the time code and all the same details Levin had pointed out to me, including Mr. X and his left-handedness. Minton fast-forwarded as I instructed and then slowed it to watch the moment when Reggie Campo approached my client at the bar. He had a frown of concentration on his face. When it was over he ejected the disc and held it up.

“Can I keep this until I get the original?”

“Be my guest.”

Minton put the disc back in its case and placed it on top of a stack of files on his desk.