“You can make that argument to a jury. Maybe it’ll fly. But the way I see it, your client engaged in sex for dough. That’s prostitution. The case is open and shut. Have him plead guilty and I’ll go along with probation, but that’s all I’m willing to offer.”
Robin looked frustrated, and Ian gave a mental fist pump.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Robin said. “I guess we’ll have to go to trial.”
“Guess so. See you in court, Counselor.”
Ian waited until Robin left the conference room and was out of sight before breaking into a grin. That had gone very, very well, Ian told himself. This case would be an easy notch on his gun and a big boost to his reputation.
CHAPTER FOUR
Anthony Carasco stayed an extra day in San Francisco while Stacey Hayes considered his offer to get rid of her warrants, install her in an upscale love nest, and give her an allowance that would let her live a life of leisure. Two weeks after Carasco returned to his duties on the bench, Hayes moved to the Grandview, a luxurious apartment on the Willamette River with a view of the mountains through floor-to-ceiling windows.
Carasco couldn’t get enough of Hayes. The afternoon after she moved to Portland, the judge told his wife that he would be home late. Then he dismissed a case on the flimsiest of grounds so he could spend the day in Hayes’s bed. From that day on, Carasco was either with Hayes, fantasizing about her, or devising excuses for being away from home so he could go to her.
Sometimes, Carasco would wake up at night and sneak into the bathroom to text Hayes. That’s what he was doing when the bathroom door opened and Betsy stormed in. Carasco tried to hide his phone, but Betsy caught him.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” Carasco stammered. “I couldn’t sleep, so I was reading sports news.”
Betsy glared at her husband. “Let me see that.”
“There’s nothing to see,” the judge said as he struggled to shut down the phone.
Betsy took a step toward her husband, and he backed into the glass wall of the shower.
“I know what you’re up to, Tony. Now show me the phone.”
Carasco hesitated, and Betsy lunged for the hand that held the phone. Carasco thrust out his other hand. It slammed into Betsy’s shoulder and threw her off balance. She was barefoot and she slipped on the tiled floor and fell on her backside.
Betsy’s mouth opened in shock. Then she flushed with rage. Carasco stuffed the phone in the pocket of his bathrobe and reached for his wife. Betsy slapped his hand away.
“I’m sick of this. If you want your whore this badly, get out of my bed and go fuck her.”
“There isn’t anyone, Betsy. I love you.”
“Bullshit. That’s what this marriage is, and I’m not putting up with it anymore.”
“What … what do you mean?”
Betsy struggled to her feet. “You’ll find out soon enough. You can sleep in the guest room from now on.”
Betsy stomped out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Carasco slumped down on the toilet. This could end badly if Betsy went to a divorce lawyer. But there had been blowups like this before, and he’d been able to get back in his wife’s good graces by humbling himself and cutting his ties with the woman he was seeing. He could definitely humble himself to keep his opulent lifestyle and her political influence, but Carasco could not imagine giving up Stacey Hayes.
Carasco waited until he thought it was safe to leave the bathroom and go to the guest room without inciting a new screaming fit. While he waited, the judge weighed his options. There was one he’d considered in the past and rejected as too radical. But if Betsy started divorce proceedings, it might be the only viable option.
CHAPTER FIVE
As soon as Robin agreed to take Erika Stassen’s case, she started reading about gender reassignment surgery, which used to be referred to as sex change operations, and the psychological problems encountered by the people undergoing them. Then she talked to the doctors, social workers, and psychologists who were working with Erika. When she felt she had enough information, she had arranged the meeting with Ian Hennessey.
Before meeting with the young DA, Robin had asked other defense attorneys about him. The few attorneys who’d had the misfortune of trying cases against Hennessey told Robin that he had an overinflated view of his abilities and didn’t prepare his cases. That led to amateur mistakes brought on by overconfidence.
Robin had been frustrated when she’d left Hennessey’s office, but she’d held out hope that the judge assigned to the case would talk sense into the young zealot. Then she learned that the case had been assigned to Anthony Carasco.
Robin had never had a case in Carasco’s court, but the criminal defense bar in Portland was a tight-knit group, and his reputation had made the rounds. Carasco had started his career in the DA’s office, where he was known as a brilliant prosecutor who could not be trusted. There were numerous stories about exculpatory evidence that had been concealed from the defense and questionable courtroom tactics. But the most disturbing rumors concerned cases Carasco had lost because key evidence had disappeared or a witness had changed his story under suspicious circumstances. These losses were infrequent, but they usually involved high-level drug dealers, members of biker gangs, or prominent, wealthy citizens.
A year ago, Carasco announced that he was going to challenge Molly Devereaux, a very popular judge, for a seat on the Multnomah County Circuit Court. Carasco’s campaign had been vicious, and there were rumors of campaign irregularities. When Carasco unseated Devereaux, he proceeded to earn the same bad reputation as a jurist he’d had as an attorney. He was a tyrant in court who was not above upbraiding an attorney in front
