Directed Verdict (Failed Justice Book 1) (22 page)

CHAPTER 41

“Ms. Clarke, please call your next witness.”

“Your Honor, the People rest.”

Billy Jo was not surprised. He had reviewed Marta’s witness list presented to him before the trial. He could think of no one else that would bolster her case.

“Any motions, Mr. Gibson?”

“Yes, Your Honor. The defense asks for a judgment of dismissal on the basis the People have failed to prove their case beyond a reasonable doubt. In fact, they have not proved their case at all. They have proved the deceased died of gunshot wounds. They have proved the weapon found at the scene, a .38 Police Special I believe, was the weapon used to fire the fatal shots, and they have proved my client was in the house at some time before, during, or after the shooting. No one seems to know. There were no fingerprints on the weapon, there was no evidence my client ever saw the deceased on the day of the shooting. There were no witnesses. There was no proof this was not self-inflicted. All we know for sure is someone died. The People have proved nothing. I now ask for a judgment of dismissal with prejudice. Thank you, Your Honor.”

“Ms. Clarke, I assume you have a rebuttal.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Marta knew the motion of dismissal would be made, had to be made. She also suspected it would be granted. Billy Jo was right, she had proven nothing. She had been assigned the case because the DA could not afford to prosecute a former superior court judge and lose. Bad for his reputation. In politics, perception is reality. Marta was the scapegoat and she damn well knew it. She also knew there was nothing she could do about it. She was a government employee.

Maybe I should think about working the other side of the street. Far more lucrative getting the big retainers, bags of cash, rather than a simple, non-negotiable “thank you” or “good job, Marta.”

“Your Honor, may I have some time to prepare? There is a volume of evidence I wish to assemble.”

Everyone knew she was stalling. What else could she do?

“Nine thirty tomorrow morning. No need to bring in the jury till one o’clock.”

Sugarman already knew what her arguments would be. He already knew how he would rule.

***

Susan Watts and Roger Rabbitt decided to throw caution to the winds. They would meet for a drink after they were dismissed for the day. No one would know. Susan suggested a quiet little place near her apartment. No one on the jury lived anywhere near her, as far as she knew. They would never be spotted.

Roger was only too pleased to say yes.

The conversation flowed, as did the drinks. One thing led to another and another. The waitress could not believe what she was seeing. The woman was not unattractive in a plain sort of way. She wore a long black skirt. Sensible shoes and stockings, and a starched white blouse that was buttoned to the very top. She could have been your neighborhood banker. In fact she was. No one could have possibly guessed that under her tailored outfit was a leopard skin bra and panties. She couldn’t wait to show her spots.

The waitress guessed her age as early to mid-sixties.

The guy was obviously gay and made no pretense of hiding it. He was more than six feet tall, could not have weighed more than one fifty, and had a butch haircut. The best that could be said for his clothes were they were clean, if not new. She was handling the bar tab and he did not seem to mind. From time to time he rested his arm on whatever part of her body that was closest.

It was getting near closing time. Roger did not own a car and public transportation was now running on the hour. He insisted upon walking her home; she was in no condition to be walking the streets alone. When he got to her front door he asked if he could use the toilet.

When he came out Susan was making coffee. It was well after midnight.

“The judge said we don’t have to be back till one in the afternoon. I could sleep on the couch, get up early, and go back to my place to shower and change and still have plenty of time.”

“Why would you want to sleep on the couch? I have a double bed and it could be fun. I have never slept with a gay guy before.”

“The equipment is the same. It just depends where, how, and with whom you use it.”

“Let’s find out.”

Her blouse was off and her skirt unzipped before he could reply. Roger did a double take at her leopard skin underwear.

Susan was a screamer. Every tenant in the building knew when and how many orgasms she had that night.

***

“Ready, Counselor?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Marta was not her cool, collected self. She was fidgety. She actually dropped her file and had to get on her hands and knees to pick them all up. Billy Jo helped her. She looked up to see him on his knees also.

“What are you doing in a dump like this?” he whispered.

It helped loosen her up.

“Your Honor. This is a capital case. We firmly believe we have met the burden of proof. We have shown ability and motive. No one has denied the defendant was on the premises when the killing took place. No one denies the defendant threatened to kill Mr. Ricardo. I honestly believe there is more than enough to have this matter go to the jury. After all, they are the ultimate trier of facts.”

Marta did not believe for one minute this case should go anywhere but the crapper.

“Thank you, Ms. Clarke. I will reserve decision on the motion. Mr. Gibson, I think in the meantime, you should prepare to put your first witness on nine thirty tomorrow morning.”

Chicken shit bastard. He doesn’t have the balls to do the right thing. He’s afraid of the Chief Justice. He’s afraid of the media. He’s afraid of perception, but most of all, he’s afraid of making a mistake.

“Yes, Your Honor. We will prepare.”

Billy maintained his composure. Inside he wanted to let Sugarman know exactly what he had just been thinking.

Wally buried his head in his hands. He knew Bob better than he knew himself. More than anything, Sugarman was afraid of Irv Weinstein, the party chairman.

He desperately wanted to remain a judge.

What else do I have?

CHAPTER 42

“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Chief Justice.”

“I have mentioned before, in chambers you may call me Steven. Frankly, I would have thought you’d have made an appointment a few days ago. I have my spies all around, you know. I am keeping track of what’s going on in your courtroom.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” confessed Bob Sugarman.

“Well, if I can give you any help, any advice, that’s what I’m here for, Robert.”

“Thank you, Mr., ah, Steven. As you know this is my first big case and I feel I’m in way over my head. Besides the fact a former judge from this district is on trial for murder, for many years Judge Kolkolski has been a mentor to me. He has helped me and quite frankly, he has bailed me out of more than a few difficult situations.”

I knew that little bastard should never have been trusted.

“I feel I can no longer be impartial. I want out. I need to recuse myself. Now, before the defense puts on their case and I have to make rulings I’m uncomfortable with.”

The Chief Justice did not say a word. He purposely let Robert stew in his own juices. After three or four minutes of dead silence, the chief judge spoke. It was like words coming from the Burning Bush or a pronouncement by the King himself.

Bob had no idea which king.

After laying a paternal hand on Bob’s shoulder, he said in a deep, scholarly voice, “Being a judge is not an easy task. That is why there are so few good ones still around. You want to be a good one, Robert, don’t you?”

Bob nodded his head.

“No one likes to judge others, but clearly someone has to do it. I selected you on purpose. I knew of your relationship with Walter. I knew the favors he has granted you. I know you now have the ability to look, listen, and be fair. Someday you will be a great judge. Today is just the first step and I have the ultimate confidence in you. Please do not hesitate to stop by anytime to chat. Good luck, my boy.”

With that, Steven Saltmeyer led him to the door. “My door is always open to you,” the Chief Justice said as he promptly closed it.

That worthless piece of shit. I knew he would come sniveling back asking to be relieved. Let him screw it up any way he wants. And as sure as I am the chief judge, he will damn sure make it a holy mess.

Robert headed back to his own chambers no smarter, no more confident than when he had left had it.

The Chief Justice actually threw me out on my ear.

***

Roger had not planned on a sleepover. He had not brought a toothbrush or jammies. Susan didn’t care.

They had an early breakfast, swore to each other this was a one-time thing and never to be discussed again. Roger was back in his own apartment by ten thirty and back in court by a quarter to one. He gave Susan a casual hello and sat in a corner by himself—observing.

La’Tasha said nothing to anyone. She knew damn well something was going on between Roger and Susan. One day they can’t stop talking to each other and the next they are almost complete strangers. She would keep an eye on both of them. She was also watching lecherous Brian Anderson, Juror Ten. La’Tasha had a sudden urge to take a long hot shower.

***

Billy Jo decided his best strategy was the direct approach. He, like every criminal trial attorney alive, knew the risks of putting the defendant on the stand. Not only could the State cross examine him on statements he made on direct, but his character, his truth and veracity, all prior acts, would be subject to intense cross.

Billy had no choice.

“Please call your first witness, Mr. Gibson.”

“The defense calls the Honorable Walter A. Kolkolski to the stand.”

Marta knew she could object, Kolkolski was no longer a judge, but decided not to bring more attention to the title than it deserved. At times it is far better to say nothing than to score a few worthless points.

Obviously Wally could not wear a robe, so he did the next best thing. He wore a new black suit, a white shirt, and a muted tie. His hair was combed back and he looked as judicial as he could.

It worked.

Billy went through Wally’s history as an assistant DA and when he was appointed to the bench. He then decided to play upon the jury for some much needed sympathy.

“Judge, did there come a time when your son moved to Florida to live with your ex-wife?”

“Yes, my divorce with Bernice was acrimonious and if Teddy wanted to live with his mom, I had no objections. She had always been a good, caring, and loving mother. Of course I would have preferred he lived with me, father and son together, but I would never stand in the way of his, or anyone’s happiness.”

Well done, Wally. You scored two solid points on that one.

“Did there come a time when you found out Teddy was in trouble, in fact arrested for rape?”

Wally hesitated. His eyes began to well up.

“It was thirteen years, two months, and five days ago. Teddy had been dating this girl and they were getting serious. Teddy was close to asking her to marry him but the girl’s father felt she was too young to get serious with anyone. When the father found out the kids were intimate he went ballistic. He couldn’t believe it was consensual and called the police. The girl was scared to death of her father and told the police she’d had too much to drink and she had sex with Teddy. She said she was too drunk to give consent.”

“Take your time, Judge.”

Bob Sugarman wanted to correct the impression Billy Jo was giving the jury but would wait for the next break.

“I flew down to Miami, first to talk to Teddy and then to meet with the DA. In Florida they call themselves a State Attorney. Same job, same pay, different title. He treated me like crap. Basically told me I had no standing and he didn’t give a shit where I was a judge. This was his ball park and no one was going to tell him how to play the game. When I mentioned the complainant was almost engaged to Teddy and it was her father who forced her to file the complaint, Mr. State Attorney told me he had an election to run and would be pleased to provide me with a squad car to take me back to the airport, ASAP. He didn’t want me to miss the next flight back to Newark.”

Billy Jo could see the jury was buying it. He was sure of it.

“Teddy could not afford a good attorney, he was found guilty and sentenced to five to seven. All the other guys in the joint knew was…he was a rapist. One day they shanked him in the shower. One of the guards found him an hour later, dead in a pool of his own blood.”

“Do you want a break, Mr. Kolkolski?”

Wally looked up at Sugarman.
The only break I want is to your God damn neck.
“No, sir.”

“Please continue.”

“I guess I became discouraged. Disillusioned. I lost respect for the system. The system I was a part of. I felt I had to do something, do something to counter balance overzealous prosecutors. Ones whose only thought was, ‘How does it benefit me? Only me. The hell with justice, the hell with people’s rights, the hell with personal freedom.’ That’s why I granted the motion, the motion made by you, Judge Sugarman, to direct a verdict of not guilty in the Anthony Ricardo case when everyone else was so sure he was.”

Bob Sugarman was not sure whether to explode or hide his head in shame. He had not contemplated this. Not even close.

Billy Jo stood there and let it sink in. Sink in to ADA Marta Clarke, to the Honorable Robert Sugarman, and most importantly, to the good and true twelve deciders of the facts.