"The Lincoln Lawyer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Connelly Michael)FOURLouis Ross Roulet was in a holding tank with seven other men who had made the half-block bus ride from the Van Nuys jail to the Van Nuys courthouse. There were only two white men in the cell and they sat next to each other on a bench while the six black men took the other side of the cell. It was a form of Darwinian segregation. They were all strangers but there was strength in numbers. Since Roulet supposedly came from Beverly Hills money, I looked at the two white men and it was easy to choose between them. One was rail thin with the desperate wet eyes of a hype who was long past fix time. The other looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights. I chose him. “Mr. Roulet?” I said, pronouncing the name the way Valenzuela had told me to. The deer nodded. I signaled him over to the bars so I could talk quietly. “My name is Michael Haller. People call me Mickey. I will be representing you during your first appearance today.” We were in the holding area behind the arraignment court, where attorneys are routinely allowed access to confer with clients before court begins. There is a blue line painted on the floor outside the cells. The three-foot line. I had to keep that distance from my client. Roulet grasped the bars in front of me. Like the others in the cage, he had on ankle, wrist and belly chains. They wouldn’t come off until he was taken into the courtroom. He was in his early thirties and, though at least six feet tall and 180 pounds, he seemed slight. Jail will do that to you. His eyes were pale blue and it was rare for me to see the kind of panic that was so clearly set in them. Most of the time my clients have been in lockup before and they have the stone-cold look of the predator. It’s how they get by in jail. But Roulet was different. He looked like prey. He was scared and he didn’t care who saw it and knew it. “This is a setup,” he said urgently and loudly. “You have to get me out of here. I made a mistake with that woman, that’s all. She’s trying to set me up and -” I put my hands up to stop him. “Be careful what you say in here,” I said in a low voice. “In fact, be careful what you say until we get you out of here and can talk in private.” He looked around, seemingly not understanding. “You never know who is listening,” I said. “And you never know who will say he heard you say something, even if you didn’t say anything. Best thing is to not talk about the case at all. You understand? Best thing is not to talk to anyone about anything, period.” He nodded and I signaled him down to the bench next to the bars. There was a bench against the opposite wall and I sat down. “I am really here just to meet you and tell you who I am,” I said. “We’ll talk about the case after we get you out. I already spoke to your family lawyer, Mr. Dobbs, out there and we will tell the judge that we are prepared to post bail. Do I have all of that right?” I opened a leather Mont Blanc folder and prepared to take notes on a legal pad. Roulet nodded. He was learning. “Good,” I said. “Tell me about yourself. How old you are, whether you’re married, what ties you have to the community.” “Um, I’m thirty-two. I’ve lived here my whole life-even went to school here. UCLA. Not married. No kids. I work -” “Divorced?” “No, never married. I work for my family’s business. Windsor Residential Estates. It’s named after my mother’s second husband. It’s real estate. We sell real estate.” I was writing notes. Without looking up at him, I quietly asked, “How much money did you make last year?” When Roulet didn’t answer I looked up at him. “Why do you need to know that?” he asked. “Because I am going to get you out of here before the sun goes down today. To do that, I need to know everything about your standing in the community. That includes your financial standing.” “I don’t know exactly what I made. A lot of it was shares in the company.” “You didn’t file taxes?” Roulet looked over his shoulder at the others in the cell and then whispered his answer. “Yes, I did. On that my income was a quarter million.” “But what you’re saying is that with the shares you earned in the company you really made more.” “Right.” One of Roulet’s cellmates came up to the bars next to him. The other white man. He had an agitated manner, his hands in constant motion, moving from hips to pockets to each other in desperate grasps. “Hey, man, I need a lawyer, too. You got a card?” “Not for you, pal. They’ll have a lawyer out there for you.” I looked back at Roulet and waited a moment for the hype to move away. He didn’t. I looked back at him. “Look, this is private. Could you leave us alone?” The hype made some kind of motion with his hands and shuffled back to the corner he had come from. I looked back at Roulet. “What about charitable organizations?” I asked. “What do you mean?” Roulet responded. “Are you involved in any charities? Do you give to any charities?” “Yeah, the company does. We give to Make a Wish and a runaway shelter in Hollywood. I think it’s called My Friend’s Place or something like that.” “Okay, good.” “Are you going to get me out?” “I’m going to try. You’ve got some heavy charges on you-I checked before coming back here-and I have a feeling the DA is going to request no bail, but this is good stuff. I can work with it.” I indicated my notes. “No bail?” he said in a loud, panicked voice. The others in the cell looked in his direction because what he had said was their collective nightmare. No bail. “Calm down,” I said. “I said that is what she is going to go for. I didn’t say she would get it. When was the last time you were arrested?” I always threw that in out of the blue so I could watch their eyes and see if there was going to be a surprise thrown at me in court. “Never. I’ve never been arrested. This whole thing is -” “I know, I know, but we don’t want to talk about that here, remember?” He nodded. I looked at my watch. Court was about to start and I still needed to talk to Maggie McFierce. “I’m going to go now,” I said. “I’ll see you out there in a few minutes and we’ll see about getting you out of here. When we are out there, don’t say anything until you check with me. If the judge asks you how you are doing, you check with me. Okay?” “Well, don’t I say ‘not guilty’ to the charges?” “No, they’re not going to even ask you that. Today all they do is read you the charges, talk about bail and set a date for an arraignment. That’s when we say ‘not guilty.’ So today you say nothing. No outbursts, nothing. Got that?” He nodded and frowned. “Are you going to be all right, Louis?” He nodded glumly. “Just so you know,” I said. “I charge twenty-five hundred dollars for a first appearance and bail hearing like this. Is that going to be a problem?” He shook his head no. I liked that he wasn’t talking. Most of my clients talk way too much. Usually they talk themselves right into prison. “Good. We can talk about the rest of it after you are out of here and we can get together in private.” I closed my leather folder, hoping he had noticed it and was impressed, then stood up. “One last thing,” I said. “Why’d you pick me? There’s a lot of lawyers out there, why me?” It was a question that didn’t matter to our relationship but I wanted to test Valenzuela’s veracity. Roulet shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I remembered your name from something I read in the paper.” “What did you read about me?” “It was a story about a case where the evidence got thrown out against some guy. I think it was drugs or something. You won the case because they had no evidence after that.” “The Hendricks case?” It was the only one I could think of that had made the papers in recent months. Hendricks was another Road Saint client and the sheriff’s department had put a GPS bug on his Harley to track his deliveries. Doing that on public roads was fine. But when he parked his bike in the kitchen of his home at night, that bug constituted unlawful entry by the cops. The case was tossed by a judge during the preliminary hearing. It made a decent splash in the “I can’t remember the name of the client,” Roulet said. “I just remembered your name. Your last name, actually. When I called the bail bondsman today I gave him the name Haller and asked him to get you and to call my own attorney. Why?” “No reason. Just curious. I appreciate the call. I’ll see you in the courtroom.” I put the differences between what Roulet had said about my hiring and what Valenzuela had told me into the bank for later consideration and made my way back into the arraignment court. I saw Maggie McFierce sitting at one end of the prosecution table. She was there along with five other prosecutors. The table was large and L-shaped so it could accommodate an endlessly revolving number of lawyers who could sit and still face the bench. A prosecutor assigned to the courtroom handled most of the routine appearances and arraignments that were paraded through each day. But special cases brought the big guns out of the district attorney’s office on the second floor of the courthouse next door. TV cameras did that, too. As I stepped through the bar I saw a man setting up a video camera on a tripod next to the bailiff’s desk. There was no network symbol on the camera or the man’s clothes. The man was a freelancer who had gotten wind of the case and would shoot the hearing and then try to sell it to one of the local stations whose news director needed a thirty-second story. When I had checked with the bailiff earlier about Roulet’s place on the calendar, he told me the judge had already authorized the filming. I walked up to my ex-wife from behind and bent down to whisper into her ear. She was looking at photographs in a file. She was wearing a navy suit with a thin gray stripe. Her raven-colored hair was tied back with a matching gray ribbon. I loved her hair when it was back like that. “Are you the one who used to have the Roulet case?” She looked up, not recognizing the whisper. Her face was involuntarily forming a smile but then it turned into a frown when she saw it was me. She knew exactly what I had meant by using the past tense and she slapped the file closed. “Don’t tell me,” she said. “Sorry. He liked what I did on Hendricks and gave me a call.” “Son of a bitch. I wanted this case, Haller. This is the second time you’ve done this to me.” “I guess this town ain’t big enough for the both of us,” I said in a poor Cagney imitation. She groaned. “All right,” she said in quick surrender. “I’ll go peacefully after this hearing. Unless you object to even that.” “I might. You going for a no-bail hold?” “That’s right. But that won’t change with the prosecutor. That was a directive from the second floor.” I nodded. That meant a case supervisor must have called for the no-bail hold. “He’s connected in the community. And has never been arrested.” I studied her reaction, not having had the time to make sure Roulet’s denial of ever being previously arrested was the truth. It’s always amazing how many clients lie about previous engagements with the machine, when it is a lie that has no hope of going the distance. But Maggie gave no indication that she knew otherwise. Maybe it was true. Maybe I had an honest-to-goodness first-time offender for a client. “It doesn’t matter whether he’s done anything before,” Maggie said. “What matters is what he did last night.” She opened the file and quickly checked through the photos until she saw the one she liked and snatched it out. “Here’s what your pillar of the community did last night. So I don’t really care what he did before. I’m just going to make sure he doesn’t get out to do this again.” The photo was an 8 X 10 close-up of a woman’s face. The swelling around the right eye was so extensive that the eye was completely and tightly closed. The nose was broken and pushed off center. Blood-soaked gauze protruded from each nostril. There was a deep gash over the right eyebrow that had been closed with nine butterfly stitches. The lower lip was cut and had a marble-size swelling as well. The worst thing about the photo was the eye that was undamaged. The woman looked at the camera with fear, pain and humiliation undeniably expressed in that one tearful eye. “If he did it,” I said, because that is what I would be expected to say. “Right,” Maggie said. “Sure, if he did it. He was only arrested in her home with her blood on him, but you’re right, that’s a valid question.” “I like it when you’re sarcastic. Do you have the arrest report there? I’d like to get a copy of it.” “You can get it from whoever takes the case over from me. No favors, Haller. Not this time.” I waited, expecting more banter, more indignation, maybe another shot across the bow, but that was all she said. I decided that getting more out of her on the case was a lost cause. I changed the subject. “So,” I said. “How is she?” “She’s scared shitless and hurting like hell. How else would she be?” She looked up at me and I saw the immediate recognition and then judgment in her eyes. “You weren’t even asking about the victim, were you?” I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to lie to her. “Your daughter is doing fine,” she said perfunctorily. “She likes the things you send her but she would rather That wasn’t a shot across the bow. That was a direct hit and it was deserved. It seemed as though I was always chasing cases, even on weekends. Deep down inside I knew I needed to start chasing my daughter around the backyard more often. The time to do it was going by. “I will,” I said. “Starting right now. What about this weekend?” “Fine. You want me to tell her tonight?” “Uh, maybe wait until tomorrow so I know for sure.” She gave me one of those knowing nods. We had been through this before. “Great. Let me know tomorrow.” This time I didn’t enjoy the sarcasm. “What does she need?” I asked, trying to stumble back to just being even. “I just told you what she needs. More of you in her life.” “Okay, I promise. I will do that.” She didn’t respond. “I really mean that, Maggie. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She looked up at me and was ready to hit me with both barrels. She had done it before, saying I was all talk and no action when it came to fatherhood. But I was saved by the start of the court session. The judge came out of chambers and bounded up the steps to the bench. The bailiff called the courtroom to order. Without another word to Maggie I left the prosecution table and went back to one of the seats along the bar. The judge asked his clerk if there was any business to be discussed before the custodies were brought out. There was none, so the judge ordered the first group out. As with the courtroom in Lancaster, there was a large holding area for in-custody defendants. I got up and moved to the opening in the glass. When I saw Roulet come through the door I signaled him over. “You’re going first,” I told him. “I asked the judge to take you out of order as a favor. I want to try to get you out of here.” This was not the truth. I hadn’t asked the judge anything, and even if I had, the judge would do no such thing for me as a favor. Roulet was going first because of the media presence in the courtroom. It was a general practice to deal with the media cases first. This was a courtesy to the cameramen who supposedly had other assignments to get to. But it also made for less tension in the courtroom when lawyers, defendants and even the judge could operate without a television camera on them. “Why’s that camera here?” Roulet asked in a panicked whisper. “Is that for me?” “Yes, it’s for you. Somebody tipped him to the case. If you don’t want to be filmed, try to use me as a shield.” Roulet shifted his position so I was blocking the view of him from the camera across the courtroom. This lowered the chances that the cameraman would be able to sell the story and film to a local news program. That was good. It also meant that if he was able to sell the story, I would be the focal point of the images that went with it. This was also good. The Roulet case was called, his name mispronounced by the clerk, and Maggie announced her presence for the prosecution and then I announced mine. Maggie had upped the charges, as was her usual MO as Maggie McFierce. Roulet now faced attempted murder along with the attempted rape count. It would make it easier for her to argue for a no-bail hold. The judge informed Roulet of his constitutional rights and set an arraignment date for March 21. Speaking for Roulet, I asked to address the no-bail hold. This set off a spirited back-and-forth between Maggie and me, all of which was refereed by the judge, who knew we were formerly married because he had attended our wedding. While Maggie listed the atrocities committed upon the victim, I in turn listed Roulet’s ties to the community and charitable efforts and pointed to C. C. Dobbs in the gallery and offered to put him on the stand to further discuss Roulet’s good standing. Dobbs was my ace in the hole. His stature in the legal community would supersede Roulet’s standing and certainly be influential with the judge, who held his position on the bench at the behest of the voters-and campaign contributors. “The bottom line, Judge, is that the state cannot make a case for this man being a flight risk or a danger to the community,” I said in closing. “Mr. Roulet is anchored in this community and intends to do nothing other than vigorously attack the false charges that have been leveled against him.” I used the word “Your Honor,” Maggie responded, “all grandstanding aside, what should not be forgotten is that the victim in this case was brutally -” “Ms. McPherson,” the judge interrupted. “I think we have gone back and forth on this enough. I am aware of the victim’s injuries as well as Mr. Roulet’s standing. I also have a busy calendar today. I am going to set bail at one million dollars. I am also going to require Mr. Roulet to be supervised by the court with weekly check-ins. If he misses one, he forfeits his freedom.” I quickly glanced out into the gallery, where Dobbs was sitting next to Fernando Valenzuela. Dobbs was a thin man who shaved his head to hide male-pattern balding. His thinness was exaggerated by Valenzuela’s girth. I waited for a signal as to whether I should take the judge’s bail order or try to argue for a lower amount. Sometimes, when a judge thinks he is giving you a gift, it can backfire to press for more-or in this case less. Dobbs was sitting in the first seat in the first row. He simply got up and started to walk out of the courtroom, leaving Valenzuela behind. I took that to mean that I should leave well enough alone, that the Roulet family could handle the million. I turned back to the bench. “Thank you, Your Honor,” I said. The clerk immediately called the next case. I glanced at Maggie as she was closing the file on the case she would no longer prosecute. She then stood up and walked out through the bar and down the center aisle of the courtroom. She spoke to no one and she did not look back at me. “Mr. Haller?” I turned to my client. Behind him I saw a deputy coming to take him back into holding. He’d be bused the half block back to jail and then, depending on how fast Dobbs and Valenzuela worked, released later in the day. “I’ll work with Mr. Dobbs and get you out,” I said. “Then we’ll sit down and talk about the case.” “Thank you,” Roulet said as he was led away. “Thank you for being here.” “Remember what I said. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t talk to anybody.” “Yes, sir.” After he was gone I walked to the bar. Valenzuela was waiting at the gate for me with a big smile on his face. Roulet’s bail was likely the highest he had ever secured. That meant his cut would be the highest he’d ever received. He clapped me on the arm as I came through the gate. “What’d I tell you?” he said. “We got ourselves a franchise here, boss.” “We’ll see, Val,” I said. “We’ll see.”
|
||
|