The Gods of Guilt(122)

“All right,” he said. “You have ten minutes. After that, you’re out of here. Doctor’s orders.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll be standing right out here.”

“Good. I feel safer already.”

I closed the door.





40





Judge Leggoe brought the attorneys into chambers first thing the next morning. Lankford was invited in with Forsythe so he could brief the judge on what was known in regard to the stabbing of Andre La Cosse. Lankford, of course, couched it in terms of the kind of random violence that happens often between incarcerated men.

“Most likely it will be determined to be a hate crime,” he said. “Mr. La Cosse is a homosexual. The suspect is already convicted of one murder and is on trial for another.”

The judge nodded thoughtfully. I could not counter Lankford’s insinuations because so far Cisco had not come up with any link between Patrick Sewell—La Cosse’s suspected assailant—and Marco and Lankford. My response was weak at best.

“There’s still a long way to go in the investigation,” I said. “I would not jump to any conclusions yet.”

“I’m sure they won’t,” Lankford said.

He didn’t have the judgmental smirk that was customary on his face. I read that as an early indication of something changing in Lankford. Maybe it was the weight of knowing he wasn’t in the clear. If the attack on La Cosse was, as I believed, an attempt to end the case by eliminating the defendant, then it had failed. The question now was how badly it had failed.

“Your Honor,” Forsythe said. “In light of these events and the recovery time the victim will certainly need, the state moves for a mistrial. I really don’t see any alternative. We will not be able to guarantee the integrity of the trial or the jury if the case is continued until the defendant reaches a condition in which he can come back to court—if he ever reaches that condition.”

The judge nodded and looked at me.

“Does that make sense to you, Mr. Haller?”

“No, Your Honor, not at all. But I would like my colleague Ms. Aronson to respond to Mr. Forsythe. She is better prepared than me. I spent the night at the hospital with my client.”

The judge nodded to Jennifer, and she responded with a beautiful and unrehearsed argument against mistrial. With every sentence I grew prouder of the fact that I had picked her for my team. Without a doubt she would someday leave me in the dust. But for now she was working for me and with me, and I could not have done better.

Her argument had three concise points, the first being that to declare a mistrial would be prejudicial to the defendant. She cited the cost of mounting the defense and the continuation of Andre La Cosse’s incarceration; the physical toll it would take; and the simple fact that with the prosecution team having seen most of the defense’s case, it would be allowed with a mistrial to retool and be better prepared for the next trial.

“Your Honor, that is not fair in any perception,” she said. “It is prejudicial.”

In my opinion that argument was good enough on its own to win the day. But Jennifer hammered it down with her next two points. She cited the cost to taxpayers that a new trial would certainly entail. And she concluded that the administration of justice was best served in this case by allowing the trial to continue.

These last two points were particularly genius because they hit the judge where she lived. A judgeship was an elected office, and no jurist wants to be called out by an opponent or a newspaper for wasting taxpayer dollars. And the “administration of justice” was a reference to the discretion the judge had in making this decision. Leggoe’s ultimate goal was the administration of justice in this matter and she had to consider whether cutting and running on the case allowed for it or precluded it.

“Ms. Aronson,” the judge said after Jennifer submitted, “your argument is cogent and persuasive, but your client is in a hospital bed in a critical care unit. Surely you’re not suggesting that we bring the jury to him. I think the court is faced with a dilemma here with only one solution.”

This was the only part that was rehearsed. The best way to get what we wanted was to lead the judge to it, not come out of the gate with it.

“No, Judge,” Jennifer said. “We think you should proceed with the case without the defendant present, after admonishing the jury not to consider the defendant’s absence.”

“That’s impossible,” Forsythe blurted out. “We get a conviction and it will be reversed on appeal in five minutes flat. The defendant has the right to face his accusers.”

“It won’t be reversed if the defendant has knowingly waived his right to appear,” Jennifer said.