Kill All the Lawyers

She watched as Steve cruised toward her, slapping pals on the back, howdying prosecutors and defense lawyers alike. Smiling and laughing, a glide to his stride. He could be strolling along a sun-dappled country path on his way to pick strawberries, instead of heading to his own arraignment. He paused a moment to buttonhole Ed Shohat and Bob Josefsberg, two of the top defense lawyers in town. Just Steve's way of letting them know he wasn't in jail, and if they had any cases or clients beneath their dignity, he could use the work.

'Yo, Vic,' he called out.

'Yo, yourself. Bobby, why aren't you in school?'

'This is my class project,' he replied.

'Bobby's my stratagem,' Steve said.

She gave him her don't bullshit me look.

'It's true. Bobby's going to stand by my side.'

'Just let me do the talking,' she said. 'All you have to say is-'

'Not guilty. I know, I know.'

'Not guilty, Your Honor.'

'Okay. You're the boss.' He turned to Bobby.

'Look, kiddo, you'll sit next to me and get up when I stand to enter my plea.'

'That's your stratagem?' Victoria asked.

'And our theme for the case. I was protecting Bobby that night when I inadvertently struck Myron Goldberg. I stand with Bobby, and he stands with me. We're sending a message.'

'With Judge Schwartz's eyesight, I doubt he'll see either one of you.'

'He can see okay. It's his hearing that's off.' Steve turned to Bobby. 'And if His Honor cuts loose a fifty- decibel fart, try not to laugh.'

Bobby giggled. 'He does that?'

'The old goat passes wind and blames it on the court reporter. So be cool.' Steve turned back to Victoria. 'Let's go do it. And trust me. 'Not guilty, Your Honor.' Not a word more.'

Judge Schwartz, irascible, aged, and flatulent, was running through his morning calendar of motions, bail hearings, status reports, arraignments, and other procedural gimcracks of the criminal justice system.

Steve, Victoria, and Bobby took seats in the front row of the gallery. Steve spotted Ray Pincher sitting across the aisle. Next to the State Attorney sat Myron Goldberg. The periodontist was sporting a fat lip the color of an eggplant and wearing a soft neck collar for no reason Steve could figure except possible civil litigation.

'Oh, my aching neck.'

Goldberg wasn't needed at the arraignment. No testimony would be taken. Why the hell was he even here?

The clerk, a young woman with dreadlocks and no apparent facial expression, called out: 'State of Florida versus Stephen Solomon.'

The judge peered over the tops of his trifocals as everyone made their way past the bar. 'You again?'

'Guilty, Your Honor,' Steve called out. 'Of being Steve Solomon. Not guilty of the charge.'

'Didn't ask for your plea.'

'I know, Judge, but I promised my lawyer that's all I'd say.' Steve and Bobby took their seats, leaving Victoria standing to do the real work.

'What now?' the judge demanded.

'New case, Your Honor,' Pincher said. He wore a burgundy three-piece suit. Pincher's trademark miniature handcuffs clinked as he gestured, bowing slightly as if he were a maitre d' welcoming diners to his overpriced restaurant. 'Mr. Solomon has again committed assault and battery.'

'Allegedly,' Victoria broke in. 'Victoria Lord for the defense, Your Honor.'

'Say, aren't you that lady lawyer who got shat on by a bird down in Gridley's courtroom?'

Victoria reddened. 'A talking toucan, Your Honor. Mr. Solomon fed it prune Danish.'

'Used to eat poppyseed myself, but the damn seeds stick to my dentures.'

'Your Honor, Mr. Solomon will enter a plea of not guilty.'

'Already did,' the judge said.

'In that case,' Victoria continued, 'the defense waives reading the information and requests trial by jury.'

'Fine and dandy. The clerk will set a trial date not to conflict with the Florida Derby. You like the ponies, missy?'

'Not particularly, Your Honor. We also move to withdraw Mr. Solomon's nolo plea in the earlier case.'

'On what grounds?'

'My client was not represented by counsel when he entered the plea.'

'Motion denied. Your client's a lawyer. Who'd he hit this time, Pincher?'

'Dr. Myron Goldberg, a neighbor,' the State Attorney said. On cue, Goldberg rose stiffly, a pained look on his face. 'Dr. Goldberg caught Mr. Solomon's nephew peeping in his daughter's window. In the ensuing confrontation, Mr. Solomon assaulted Dr. Goldberg.'

'Not true, Judge.' Steve leapt to his feet, and so did Bobby. 'I was defending my nephew and my sister.'

'Sit down!' Victoria hissed.

'I wasn't peeping!' Bobby insisted.

'First a peeper,' the judge said sternly. 'Then a flasher. Next thing you know, you're pulling down girls' panties and having your way with them. You know what they did to rapists in ancient Rome?'

'Crushed their balls between two rocks,' Bobby said.

'The little perv knows his history, I'll grant him that.'

'I'm not a perv!'

'Pipe down, son. You'll have a chance to prove that.'

'The boy's not on trial,' Pincher reminded the judge.

'Maybe he should be,' Judge Schwartz shot back. 'He's really starting to torque my tail.'

At that, an unmistakable pop-pop-pop came from the bench, a Gatling gun of rapid-fire flatulence.

Bobby giggled and said, 'Who blew the butt trumpet?'

'That's enough, you little rascal.'

'Because it sounded like a bench burner,' Bobby continued.

Steve put a hand on Bobby's shoulder, trying to quiet him.

'Are you trifling with me, boy? Do you know who I am?'

'Alvin Elias Schwartz,' Bobby replied, scrunching his face in concentration.

'No, Bobby!' Steve ordered. 'No anagrams.'

'Alvin Elias Schwartz,' Bobby repeated. 'WAS A SNIVEL ZILCH RAT.'

The judge hacked up some phlegm. 'I ought to send both of you straight to clink.'

'Your Honor,' Victoria spoke up. 'Mr. Solomon has yet to be tried, and there are no charges against his nephew.'

The judge whirled around in his high-backed swivel chair. One revolution. Two revolutions. Three revolutions. The judge disappearing from sight, then reappearing, white fringes of hair above his ears blowing in the breeze. When the chair slowed to a stop, he said: 'I question Solomon's mental competence. Where's that shrink's report from the other case?'

Pincher answered, 'Not filed yet, Your Honor. Mr. Solomon missed his last appointment.'

'If that happens again, he's going straight to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred shekels.'

'Judge, don't send me back to that quack,' Steve pleaded.

'Get thee to a shrinkery!' Judge Schwartz ordered. 'What's the name of that head doctor?'

'William Kreeger,' Pincher said.

'That's the one. Go see him. Both Solomon and the kid. I want to know if Solomon's a menace and the little rapscallion's a sicko.'