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It was an old joke, but Jessica and Jennifer laughed. Even old jokes were funny when told by Juri. But Scott booed and razzed him, turning both thumbs down.
“Now you know that wasn’t a brunette joke, Juri. You owe Jennifer an apology, but I know that’s not coming, so I think Jennifer and I should get on our way. Tonight is our anniversary celebration. Let me have my tab.”
Juri turned and walked toward the cash register. When he returned, Scott was standing with Jennifer behind the bar stools. He looked briefly at the tab, placed some cash on the bar, and turned to Jessica.
“Jennifer and I must be going, Jessica. I’ll see you at the courthouse tomorrow. I’ll have a couple of case files for you to start on.”
“Scott, before you go, could I ask a favor?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“I wonder if you could pick me up on your way to work tomorrow morning. We’ll be going in about the same time, and I live right on the way from your apartment.”
The question caught Scott by surprise. Jennifer turned and looked at him. She was obviously as interested in his response as Jessica.
“Can’t do it, Jessica. I’ve got a lot of running around to do in the morning. I’ll meet with you tomorrow after my trial.” He took Jennifer’s arm, and they walked to the alcove in the entrance way. Jennifer stopped and faced Scott.
“Interesting,” she said. “I walk into the Library to meet you for an anniversary celebration, and I find you sitting at the bar with a good looking brunette, buying her beer, and telling stories. Then she wants a ride to work because she lives on the way. How does she know where you live, Scott?”
Scott wondered the same. Jennifer’s observation was entirely correct, if misleading. How much was he expected to explain? Before he could reply, he noticed Jennifer’s smile.
She moved close to Scott and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “It’s OK, Scott; you know I’m not the jealous kind.” Then she grabbed his hand and led him through the Library’s big oak double doors. Once outside, she added, “Remember that Chicken Lasagna Alfredo I prepared almost a year ago? I’ve made it again for tonight—and I’ll wake you early in the morning so you can do all that running around.” Scott smiled. She squeezed his hand, and they walked slowly down the steps.
CHAPTER FOUR
August 23, 2007
Scott’s DUI trial in Courtroom F was to start at 9:00 a.m. Thursday. He arrived thirty minutes early, took out his trial notebook, and began to review it. The courtroom was empty except for a bailiff and one spectator on a back row. Perhaps it was the defendant or a friend. This was not a trial that would attract the press or spectators, but Scott had put a lot of time into it. Even though it was a simple DUI, any trial with Charles Samarkos defending would be a tough fight. Scott had been seated at his table for about ten minutes when Samarkos entered.
“You may have the day off, Scott. So far, my client is a no-show. I was to meet him in my office at eight. When he didn’t show by eight-thirty, I came over thinking he may have come straight to the courthouse, though I knew that was unlikely. I’ll go to the lobby and wait for him there. If he shows up here, please have him take a seat. I’ll be back at nine and explain it to the judge.”
“I hope he shows, Charles. Even though we don’t win many against you, we prosecutors work hard on your cases. Hate to see all those hours wasted. But the judge will be happy. She’s got a bunch of cases backed up.”
Samarkos left, but he was back at nine to inform the judge that his British tourist client had failed to appear and was likely on a 747 halfway across the Atlantic as they spoke. The judge peppered him with questions, but all he could say was that his client was simply a no-show. Her final question was about the size of his retainer fee. They both laughed. The judge gave Samarkos some instructions on what he should do if and when he made contact with his missing client, and Samarkos left the courtroom. Scott put his notebook and papers into his briefcase in preparation to leave. But first he looked around to see if Jessica was present. She wasn’t.
His answering machine was blinking when he walked into his office. It was a message from Nick Cox to come see him as soon as he was available. Scott went immediately.
“We are going to set that Harrison case for trial ASAP. I’m taking it myself,” Nick said as soon as Scott arrived.
“That was my case, Nick. What’s changed?”
“What’s changed? That fat little bastard sent me a fax this morning to let me know he was back on the case; I’ve always wanted another crack at that clown.”
The “clown” Nick was referring to was Max Gordon, and Nick had personal reasons to want another “crack” at him. Gordon had defended a major drug dealer, Alberto Escabar, in Savannah five years previously. Nick was the prosecutor. During a break in jury selection, Escabar somehow escaped—simply disappeared—for good. It was embarrassing for all—the court, the sheriff, and the prosecutor. The newspapers pounced on each of them, one at a time. Nick was sure that Gordon and his henchmen were responsible, but the ensuing investigation focused mostly on the negligence of security personnel, and Gordon was never targeted. Scott was sure that Nick was taking the case to settle the score. He understood the motive, but this was a case he had already tried and was prepared to try again, and he wanted it.
“Nick, I know this case inside out and could be ready to try it on a day’s notice. I know you are busy. Let me take it.”
“Scott, I’m taking this case to trial—that’s final. But you can be second chair. So, if you want to be there, you’re in and if not, just say so.”
Scott quickly realized it would be awkward as well as futile to protest further. But second chair would at least get him on the case again against Max Gordon. Maybe Nick would let him open or even close.
“I’m in, Nick. Of course.”
“Good. I’ve got some other news. I spoke with the boss about the need to add a couple of prosecutors to felonies. We lost Tom Krizek last Friday, and we’ll be losing Bob Young next week. We’re overloaded with cases, and we need help right now. I specifically asked for you. Probably a big mistake—you don’t really have the experience, but possibly you have potential. Now don’t let that go to your head. By any standard, you’re a rank amateur. How many jury trials have you had?”
“About a dozen, I think. I’m not sure.”
“Well, I am. Exactly thirteen since you were hired in January. I checked it out with Will this morning. That’s not bad for the time you’ve been here, but we don’t consider anyone for the felony division until they have at least twenty-five jury trials. Yes, I know, you’ve tried several dozen non-jury trials. And you got real lucky on a high profile felony case. I also know that luck goes to the best prepared attorney, and Judge Desano told me that you were well-prepared and kept your cool. So, I’m willing to take the chance on you. Besides, it’s slim pickings in misdemeanors right now, and we don’t like to hire felony prosecutors from outside. At least you haven’t really screwed up. Well, you probably have, but we haven’t caught it. The pay will be the same—no pay increase. So, what do you say? Want the job?”
“Of course, Nick.” Scott said solemnly. “I seem to be so well-qualified and welcome. You make it sound so appealing.”
Nick smiled, and then actually laughed, a rarity. “Of course you are welcome, Scott.” Nick rose from his chair, extended his hand to Scott, who had been standing since entering the office, and they shook. “Sit down,” Nick said. “We need to start thinking about the Harrison case and Max Gordon.”
“Gordon was thrown off that case by the judge,” Scott said. “Can he now get back on? And what about the disciplinary action he was facing after those cheap tricks at the last trial. He was being investigated for his witness tampering. Is he even a member of any bar now?”
“Well, I checked with the Illinois Bar. He’s a member there. I’ll have Richard check to see if there’s anything new on the investigation.” Nick was referring to Richard Evans, a DA’s office inve
stigator, who had worked on the Harrison case from the beginning. “He’s not a member of the Georgia Bar, but in the fax he said he would be sponsored by a Georgia attorney by the name of Clarence Wilborn and was filing the appropriate papers under the Superior Court Rules.”
“Gordon got an ass-chewing by Judge Desano at the first trial for not filing his papers on time, so I’m sure he’ll get that straight this time,” Scott said. “You think Desano will preside over the retrial?”
“I expect so. Gordon will surely file a motion to recuse Desano. But I know Desano, and there’s no chance he’ll voluntarily leave the case. Anything in the record that would require Desano to step down?”
“Nothing I saw. The Court of Appeals found no error in Desano’s dismissal of Gordon. They found his repeated contemptuous trial conduct warranted it. The only error was continuing the trial without qualified counsel. I can’t see how Gordon can claim prejudice as a basis for recusal. There may in fact be prejudice, but it’s not in the record. What shows is just Desano being Desano.”
“Well, locate all the witnesses and give them a heads-up. Are the two eyewitnesses still available?”
“I have no idea. One is local, but the other one is a fishing guide out in Colorado. I haven’t seen or heard from either of them since the trial last year. Richard will contact them.”
“Have him do that right away. Do you have the transcript of the trial in your office?”
“I do. I’ll make you a copy.”
“Drop it by my office this afternoon. And let’s meet next week.” Nick looked at his calendar. “Say, Wednesday at four?”
Scott pulled out his BlackBerry. “I’ve got a DUI trial starting Tuesday, but I expect it to be over by Wednesday afternoon. So, I’ll be here—four o’clock Wednesday.”
It was almost ten when Scott returned to his office. He was checking the Harrison witness list, preparing to make some phone calls, when there was a knock on the door. It was Jessica Valdez.
“Sorry, I overslept,” she said. “I went to Courtroom F, but the bailiff told me your case was cancelled.” She was holding a leather briefcase.
“Yes. Defendant was a no-show. Have a seat.” Scott was outwardly cordial, but he was not pleased with the “I overslept” excuse for her first day at the office. However, he was pleased with how she was dressed. Perhaps a bit of high-fashion for a DA’s office, but maybe the office could use a little fashion. She was as beautiful as she was on the first visit, and Scott found it difficult not to stare. He deliberately looked away and then made an awkward motion toward the door.
“I want to show you around the office. We have a shared space for all the clinic students. Sorry, no private desks, but it has a couple of eight-foot tables where you can work and an internet connection for your laptop. You can do a lot of your trial preparation away from the office, but you’re always welcome here. Do you have any questions about what is expected of you, or did the orientation yesterday answer everything?”
“I don’t have any questions, but I thought I would be working out of your office.”
“You expected that?” It wasn’t exactly a question, and he didn’t wait for a response. “No, that’s not the way the program works. You’ll spend time in this office when we confer and I check your trial preparation, but your work space is as I’ve described.”
Jessica did not respond. Scott reached into a desk drawer and pulled out two file folders. “Here’re two cases. I’ve picked these because I believe they’ll actually go to a trial. I’m sure you know that most cases don’t go to trial. There may be a plea, or a plea with a pretrial, or a no-show like this morning, but only a small percentage of charges ever go to a contested trial, and with misdemeanors—the type cases you will have—very few are actually tried before a jury. But these two are good candidates. Both defense counsel have assured me they are not going to plead. Both have rejected our final offer, so I want you to get them ready for trial. One is a DUI with a prior DUI conviction. The other is a school teacher charged with petty theft, so both have good reasons to fight the charges.”
Jessica sat in a chair across from Scott. Her eyes were heavily made up, but they sparkled, and her lips shined with a red gloss. She smiled as Scott spoke, and her gaze was strong and penetrating. Her smile was soft and deliberately teasing, and it made Scott uncomfortable.
He rose from his chair, took the two case files, and walked around the desk to where Jessica was seated. She stood as he approached, and he handed the files to her. The hint of expensive perfume once more filled the small space between them, and once more their eyes were fixed on each other’s. Neither spoke, but Scott quickly turned and walked toward the door.
“Bring the files and your briefcase with you, Jessica. I’ll show you the office for clinic students. You can drop those case files off while I show you around.”
Their tour of the office, including a number of introductions along the way, took up the rest of the morning. They ended up in Scott’s office shortly before noon.
“Jessica, your first trial, the one involving petty theft, is set for Tuesday, September 11. And it will be yours—entirely yours—if you are ready.”
“I’ll be ready; count on it.”
“Good. We’ll meet each Tuesday and Thursday until then, and we’ll go over your preparation. In the meantime, if you run out of work, let me know—I have more cases I can assign. My job is to make sure you have good trial experiences—as many as you can prepare for.” Scott paused for a short moment, then said, “If you have no other questions, you’re free to leave.”
At the doorway, Jessica turned and looked back at Scott. She smiled briefly and quickly disappeared down the corridor. The cadence of her high heels softly echoed down the hall, the same euphonious sound he heard after her first visit—a signature sound.
CHAPTER FIVE
August 29, 2007
Scott walked into Nick’s office promptly at 4:00 p.m. to discuss the Harrison trial. Scott’s DUI trial had not ended as early as he anticipated. The jury had just started deliberating, and Scott was pleased to have something to occupy his time.
There had been some unexpected news since their last meeting. At least unexpected by Scott. Nick, however, had been anxiously awaiting it and was pleased that it finally came. A circuit vacancy for a superior court judgeship occurred a few months earlier, and Nick had applied. His was one of the names forwarded by the Judicial Nominating Commission to the governor. The governor personally called that morning to tell him of his selection, and the news of Nick’s appointment spread rapidly.
“I heard the news, Nick. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Scott. Have a seat.”
“When will you be leaving?”
“Not for a few weeks. I spoke with the chief judge earlier today. He’s shorthanded and wants me there yesterday, but he understands the need to wind down here too. I got a call from Gordon. He says he wants a speedy trial—would prefer it within a month, which is fine with me. The case will go to Judge Desano unless Gordon files a motion to recuse him. Desano says he can try it the week of September seventeenth. So that’s the target date. You said the case could be ready on a day’s notice, right?”
“Yes, but I’m surprised you can get a trial date so soon.”
“So am I, and a lot depends on Gordon. Despite what he says he wants, he can slow it down if he chooses, but I want to be ready to go on the seventeenth.”
“Nick, I don’t see the big rush on Harrison. He’s locked up where he should be. I can try the case anytime, and you can go on the bench now. Apparently, they need you now.”
“I’ve also got other cases I need to wrap up, Scott. This office is shorthanded, too. That’s why you got called up from the bullpen early, remember?”
“I do, but some people here think you want to try the Harrison case yourself because of a personal feud. They think the Escobar case still bugs you, and you want a piece of Gordon.”
“And they would be right on all counts
. I dislike that sneaky bastard for being a sneaky bastard, and that’s as good a reason as any to kick his ass around a courtroom. You have a problem with that?”
“No. But I repeat: I would be happy to take the case if you change your mind.”
“If Gordon files that recusal motion, it will have to be heard, and that will delay the trial. And then you can have it. Right now it’s mine, and you are assisting.”
Scott heard the edge in Nick’s voice. He wouldn’t mention taking the case again. “Sure. I’ll be there. I’ve got a couple of misdemeanors scheduled for that week, but I’ll have someone cover. May I expect to have some part of the trial? Opening, closing, direct, cross, whatever.”
“We’ll see. Did Richard get in touch with the two eyewitnesses?”
“He spoke with both of them over the weekend. The victim, Vijay Patel, still manages his convenience store, Fast Eddie’s, on Waters Avenue. Richard talked to him there. And Saturday he spoke by phone with Josh Johnson, the witness who observed the robbery going down while sitting in his car in the parking lot. Johnson is still out in Colorado, but he said he would come without a subpoena. All the other witnesses are local and available. I’ll inform them of the trial date. They will be ready. Richard took a trip to the prison where Harrison has been locked up for the past year, to see if he has made any statements to anyone that we can use. He hasn’t. He’s too smart for that. Reports are that he’s made no close friends and keeps his mouth shut. So we start this trial with no new evidence. Have you had a chance to read through the transcript?”
“Haven’t read your closing argument, but I’ve read all the testimony. Which reminds me—I don’t recall anything about which hand the gun was in. Was it the left or right?”
“I don’t know; that was—”
“You don’t know? You tried a damned armed robbery case and don’t even know which hand held the weapon? You can’t be serious!” Nick narrowed his eyes, made a fist with his right hand and pounded the top of his desk. “What did the witnesses say?”