long time ago. Did you just make a bad choice of words?'
He looks across the table at me with a stare that makes me glad I was never an offensive lineman. 'I'm even better at choosing words than I am at eating.' That is a significant statement, because based on the size of the check when I get it, Winston Churchill wasn't better at choosing words than Hastings is at eating.
Driving home, I try to focus on that which makes this case unique. In most cases, my view is that my client is wrongly accused and that the real criminal is out there. While that is certainly true here as well, the twist is that Laurie's arrest is not just the result of police error. Stynes's involvement makes it crystal clear that she was set up from the very beginning. It is likely, but not absolutely definite, that the person behind the setup and the murderer are one and the same.
I find it very helpful to sit down with Kevin to just bounce ideas off each other. He has a sharp mind, and while he's emotionally involved in this case, he's far more dispassionate than I am.
We have one of those talks this afternoon, though it's a little hard to hear because Edna is typing like a maniac in the background. Kevin points out that my instinct about Stynes not being disappointed when I turned down his case was right on target. He wasn't in my office for the purpose of hiring an attorney; he was there to plant information in my head. He was betting that my belief in his guilt would cause me to defend Garcia.
'So two people got framed,' I say. 'First Garcia and then Laurie. But Garcia was always meant to be temporary; he was never meant to take the ultimate fall. He was just there to get me into the case.'
Kevin shakes his head. 'I don't think so. I think he was there to get Laurie into the case. She works for you, so they had to bring you in first.'
In an instant I realize that he is right and that what he is saying has a logical extension. 'Which means Garcia was not picked at random; he was chosen because Laurie had a long-standing grudge against him. And now Dylan will use that to say she murdered Dorsey and framed Garcia, thereby removing two people she hated.'
He nods. 'We're up against somebody pretty smart.'
'Lucky we've got Edna the dynamo on our side.'
After a while Kevin is about to leave, and together we persuade Edna to leave with him. She vows to be back early in the morning, and I tell her that I'll set the alarm.
Laurie and I have a quiet dinner, trying our best not to talk about the case, while knowing we're each thinking about nothing else. We haven't really had a full-blown attorney-client discussion yet, and I ask her if it's okay if we start the process tonight. She agrees, and we sit on the couch in the den, soft music in the background, sharing a bottle of wine. In terms of the atmosphere for attorney-client conferences, I've experienced a hell of a lot worse.
I start off by telling her that it is important for us to put our personal relationship aside in working her case; that is how we can be most objective and effective. She has to be prepared for me to treat her like any other client. She nods. 'So we won't be sleeping together?'
'Sure we will,' I say. 'I sleep with all my clients.'
That dispensed with, we get down to business. Laurie knows the importance of total honesty in speaking to one's lawyer, but since knowing it in the abstract and living it are two different things, I take pains to remind her.
Laurie tells me that she doesn't know any more about Dorsey's disappearance and murder than I do. Accepting that at face value, I try to focus in on her relationship with Oscar Garcia.
Laurie begins by once again reciting the story of her friend's teenage daughter, who became a drug customer of Garcia's before running away from home. I've heard it all, but I let her go on. I often find it's better to let a client talk uninterrupted as much as possible; I get more information that way. It's strange to be thinking of Laurie as a client, but I'm getting used to it.
'You made a comment to me the other day,' I say. 'Something about knowing what Oscar's been up to recently.'
She nods. 'I've kept my eye on him from time to time.'
'What exactly does that mean?'
'It means that when I've had time I've watched him, hoping he would make a mistake. Something that could get him sent away.'
'You're not a cop anymore, Laurie.'
'No, but I know a few.' She can see I'm a little worried about this. 'Andy, the guy is a slime. I have the right to watch him.'
'Did you catch him doing anything?' I ask.
'Not that I could prove.'
'What about personal contact? Did you have any?'
'No.'
I feel like she's holding back, although she must know that wouldn't make any sense. The rest of the conversation consists more of her trying to get information from me than the other way around. She wants to know how the case is going, and even though it hasn't had time to go anywhere, I make myself sound upbeat. My goal is to be honest but not depressing. In this case, at least for now, that's not easy.
I'M UP AND SHOWERED BY SEVEN O'CLOCK THE NEXT morning, which is exactly the time that Edna shows up. I see her through the window; she has brought donuts and coffee for the early assembled press and is outside divvying it up. Obviously, there was no need for press-relations coaching from me; Wonder Woman picked it up on her own.
At nine o'clock I get a phone call from the court clerk informing me that the grand jury has handed down an indictment against Laurie. Dylan has been working fast. She also informs me that a trial judge has been assigned, and I am wanted at a meeting in one hour in his chambers. I start to argue about the inconvenience of this hastily called meeting when she tells me that the trial judge is Walter 'Hatchet' Henderson.
I stop arguing. Hatchet could just as easily have given me ten minutes to get there, and held me in contempt if I was late. He is autocratic, obnoxious, and legendarily difficult for all lawyers, though I'm sure he scares Dylan more than me. Hatchet was the judge on the Miller case, and I was pleased--make that stunned--by the competence and fairness he demonstrated while conducting that trial.
Before I leave, Laurie reminds me of her one demand: that the trial begin as soon as possible. It's a very common feeling among the accused, especially the wrongly accused. This experience is so trying, so frightening, so humiliating, that the need to have it over as quickly as possible is overwhelming.
By the time I get to Hatchet's office Dylan is already there, kissing the judge's ass by marveling about how much weight Hatchet has lost on some diet. Lawyers instinctively try to kiss Hatchet's ass, but even though that ass has in fact gotten smaller during this diet, the tactic doesn't work. Hatchet does not respect ass-kissing attorneys. He also does not respect prosecuting attorneys, defense attorneys, outstanding attorneys, mediocre attorneys, or any attorneys.
'Good morning, Judge,' I say.
'Let's do without the small talk, gentlemen. We've got a trial to conduct.'
'Oh,' I say, 'I assumed we were changing defendants again.'
'No,' Dylan responds, 'we're going to put this one away for a long time.'
I laugh. 'Dylan, I'm going to clean your clock.'
Hatchet interrupts and berates us for our unprofessional conduct. He then takes out his calendar and opens the floor to discussion of a start date for the trial.
'I would suggest July fourteenth, Your Honor,' Dylan says.
'That is unacceptable to the defense, Your Honor. We wish to invoke our right to a speedy trial. We would be looking at the middle of May.'
Dylan is clearly surprised, mainly because he knows rushing is not in our best interest; it's an accepted truth that time is always on the defense's side. And besides, I had already agreed to the July 14 date when the defendant was Oscar. Dylan has no choice but to accede to our demand, however, since we are simply exercising our constitutional rights.
Dylan estimates that the prosecution case might take two weeks, and I say that I doubt we'll even need to mount a defense, but if we do, a week should do it.
Hatchet looks intently at the calendar, then stares at us. 'My vacation begins on June twenty-eight.'
