Endangered (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-four

“MS. DEMBE,” JUDGE MCCORMICK'S VOICED BOOMED IN THE COURTROOM, “I'VE read your motion. Are your ready to make your arguments on why I should recuse myself from this case? Let me just say in advance, I hope your arguments are more compelling than what's in these pages here.” He leaned into his bench and fanned the motion in her direction. “I am not impressed, nor am I convinced.”

ADA Dembe smiled faintly. “I understand, Your Honor.”

“Proceed.”

“Respectfully, Your Honor, it is our position that your critical and well publicized views about our great criminal justice system may compromise your ability to hear this case.”

The judge held up his hand to stop her. “It's no secret that I am critical of our judicial system. I believe we incarcerate too many of our citizens. I've held this belief for quite some time now. But I have never before received a motion for recusal based on my personal beliefs. Not even from you, Ms. Dembe, on past cases of yours I've presided over. Why now?” The judge stared, stone-faced, at the woman attorney. “Cut to the chase, Ms. Dembe. Make the argument you came here to make. Now.”

“Okay, Your Honor. Opposing counsel in this case”—and here the prosecutor couldn't help turning her body slightly toward Roger and Calvin, who were seated at the defense table—“is no other than Roger Whitford. All of us here know he's nationally, if not internationally, known for his human rights efforts. The problem is, outside this courtroom he has been engaging in a vigorous public debate, using this case to make the argument that black boys, such as this defendant, are endangered due to some deeply rooted, albeit
elusive
, bias in the system.” To look at her face you would think the words left a foul taste in her mouth. “If he had his way, the whole system would be upended. In fact, he is simultaneously seeking to have the Endangered Species Act broadened to include certain classes of human life.” She smirked. “He has been tainting the criminal process in this case”—and now she banged her fist on the prosecution table—“by advocating that boys like this defendant deserve some greater protection than what our criminal justice system currently provides them. Even if we go to trial, I'm not sure we'll be able to find a jury that hasn't been biased one way or the other. And, quite frankly, Your Honor, this argument, which Mr. Whitford has been making almost on a daily basis since he became counsel on the case, coincides with views Your Honor is known to hold; and, consequently, it is the prosecution's position—and it is we who are charged with the awesome task of protecting the interests of the people of the Commonwealth—that you cannot be impartial in hearing this case. We respectfully request that you recuse yourself from this matter.”

“Will you be presenting evidence to support your request?” the judge asked coolly.

“Your Honor, I have news clips and interviews where you have openly criticized the judicial system for its level of incarceration of defendants. Here's one in which you stated, and I quote, “It is a travesty that the U.S. makes up less than five percent of the world's population but accounts for twenty-five percent of the world's prisoners.”

“That's not an opinion, counselor. That's a fact.”

“That's just one, Your Honor. We have over thirteen statements directly from your own mouth of your views about our criminal justice system. I would submit those as exhibits if opposing counsel will stipulate to their authenticity.”

“Will you?”

Calvin, serving now as first chair in Malik's defense, stood and buttoned his dark-olive suit. “I will,” he said, then unbuttoned his jacket and sat down.

“Anything else, counsel? Do you have any evidence that proves my reluctance in the past to convict defendants or sentence them to prison? Are you arguing that I have some personal interest in the outcome of this case?”

“No, Your Honor. However, our argument is limited to the unique nature of this case. It is our position that opposing counsel is essentially espousing views that you, in the past, have publicly supported. He is calling for a restructuring of sorts of how the legal system does business, and you have made it clear on numerous occasions that you hold the very same view.”

Judge McCormick shifted his body in Calvin and Roger's direction, then turned his head back to the prosecutor. “Thin. Paper thin.”

ADA Dembe collected her notes, stood them tall on the table in front of her, and pounded them up and down. There was a slight film of sweat on her brow. She tossed her notes into a folder, but some of them spilled out onto the floor. In a sharp, jerky move, which left nothing to the imagination as to her feelings, she leaned over and snatched the papers up from the floor. Finally, she plopped herself in her seat like a child on the verge of a tantrum.

The judge turned back to Calvin and Roger. “So, what do you have to say about this request?”

Roger leaned into Calvin, draping an arm around his cocounsel's broad shoulders. He whispered in his ear, “Swat this bug so we can get down to real business.”

Calvin smirked. A rush of energy coursed through him like it never had in all the cases he worked on at Fox, Biddle & Rothschild. He glimpsed over his shoulder at Janae. She fidgeted with a ring that had been on her right hand but now lay in her lap.

“Your Honor, it is the defense's position that you not only can be impartial in this case but that your tenure on the bench during the past two decades has shown a judgeship that has been marked with decisions that are fair and just under the current law. Moreover, there is nothing that distinguishes your decisions from your peers. Your conviction and delinquent adjudication rates are on par with your peers. Your sentences are essentially indistinguishable. The prosecution cannot point to any discrepancies that hint at any inability on your part to be impartial in judging this case. Instead they argue in generalities and speculation. And even in their broad strokes they fail to show the appearance of impropriety with regard to this specific case. The prosecution has failed to show that you have any personal interest in the outcome of the case or that you or anyone close to you will benefit in any way from the outcome of this matter. That's the standard for recusal, and they have failed to meet it.

“Essentially their argument can be summed up as any judge with an expressed opinion,” Calvin abruptly shifted his body in the direction of ADA Dembe as he revealed the real problem her office has with the judge, “about an ill that plagues our society, whether it's the disproportionate number of blacks that are imprisoned, abortion rights or any number of issues should be disqualified to hear cases in the same vein. The problem with their reasoning is that every judge has a personal opinion particularly if they are well informed about the world we live in. Judges are not required to suspend thought or their rights as a citizen in order to preside over cases. The only requirement is impartiality. Can a judge be impartial in deciding a matter? I submit that in light of your actual record in deciding criminal matters you can be impartial in this matter. Your Honor, the prosecution's burden on the Motion for Recusal has not been met. We ask that the motion be denied. Moreover, we bring to Your Honor's attention that a waiver hearing is scheduled on this case and that there be no delay on that matter.”

Judge McCormick sat up straight. His eyes shifted from Calvin to ADA Dembe to the clock that was to the right of his bench. They were twenty-five minutes into the hearing.

In a dry, restrained voice he said, “Ms. Dembe, I've heard your motion. It is denied. Waiver hearing will be heard as scheduled.” In one swift continuous movement, he pushed his chair away from the bench, banged his gavel, and exited the courtroom.

Roger patted Calvin on the back. “You were built for this.”

Calvin was beaming.

“I bet you never felt like this from writing a ‘killer brief' over at that corporate firm of yours,” Roger teased.

Calvin's head jerked. “You're right! Working this case, helping Janae and her son—yeah, this is in a league of its own.”

He turned to Janae, still smiling. She returned it glowing and nearly hyperventilating from excitement.
One step closer to Malik coming home!

“Thank you so much. Thank you so much.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

Calvin chuckled, as she bounced up and down. “You're welcome, Janae. But we still have the waiver and trial.”

She moved her right hand swiftly back and forth, as if patting the air with it. “I know, I know. But you said this judge was a good one to have, and now we got him, and you're good, and Roger's good, and I know Malik is coming home and, and”—she squeezed her eyes and fists tightly and said in disbelief—“I'm happy.”

Chapter Twenty-five

“DO YOU DO THIS FOR ALL YOUR CLIENTS?” JANAE ASKED, ALREADY SURE that the answer was no. She was standing in a three-way mirror in a high-end department store, staring at herself in a tailored black suit. She twirled around. It fit perfectly. It was petite and wouldn't need to be hemmed. Even the cobalt-blue shirt under the blazer was just right. She stopped fidgeting and took a really good look at herself. She looked like a businesswoman, a lawyer, someone important.

She smiled. “This is
nice
.”

“You're not my client, Janae,” Calvin corrected her.

She turned to him with a puzzled look.

“You're not my client, Malik is.”

She waved her hand as she turned back to the mirror. “Oh, that's the same thing.” She looked at him again, this time in the mirror. Their eyes locked. “Do you like it?”

With his cheeks a bit flushed, he felt like he had been caught doing something he knew he shouldn't. She wasn't his client, but the fact that she was his client's mother blurred the line of appropriateness. “Yes, I like it a lot. You look beautiful.”

His comment flattered, but she did not show it.
A man like him,
he could never see a woman like me as anything other than a drain on the system.
“Why are you doing this?”

Calvin cleared his throat. “Doing what, exactly?”

“You know, buying me this ridiculously expensive suit, that's what.”

“Well, in a court case, everything matters, including appearances. I want us to have every advantage we can going into the courtroom next week.”

She turned swiftly back to him with a wide playful grin. “Is that your way of saying you were sick of seeing my one and only pitiful purple dress?”

He smiled. “Well, I wasn't going to go there, but since you brought it up . . .”

They laughed.

“By the way, I would never call that purple dress of yours pitiful, not when you're wearing it.”

She stepped away from the mirror and sat in the empty chair beside Calvin. Janae rubbed her hand across the furniture's plush red velvet fabric and gold-colored wood trim arms. She bounced slightly, fully taking in the chair's luxuriance. “I didn't believe stores like this actually existed. It's nice in here.”

“You like it in here?”

“I do,” she said, scrunching her nose playfully.

“Then let's stay a while.”

Janae smiled. “And do what?”

“You'll see.” Calvin flagged down the dressing-room attendant. “She would like to try on a few more suits. And throw in there a couple of dresses too.”

“
What?
” Janae giggled.

“Let me do this for you,” he said.

Janae looked at Calvin. The attendant returned and was holding several pieces of clothing for Janae to try on. “I don't know if we should be doing this.”

“Why not? We're two consenting adults enjoying each other's company in a dressing room.” He grinned.

“There's nothing wrong with a little fun, right?” She smiled.

“Absolutely,” Calvin said.

Janae tried on every piece of the beautiful clothing and then sat down next to Calvin. “You can't know how much this means to me. Just being here, able to relax for even just a few minutes. Thanks. I needed this.” After a while she said, “So, now we know what I'll be wearing for the hearing. What about you?”

Calvin pressed his lips together, creating wrinkles on his chin. “I hadn't thought about that. I'll decide the day of.”

“Well, that's not fair,” she teased. She stood up. “I'm going to change back into my own clothes, and when I'm done, be prepared to shop for you.”

Calvin leaned back into his seat and watched Janae until the dressing room stall door closed behind her.

 

“HERE, TRY ON THIS ONE.” JANAE SAID, HANDING CALVIN A BLACK BLAZER with thin gray stripes.

He immediately noticed that it was about four sizes too small but put it on anyway.

Janae laughed out loud. The sleeves ended about three inches above his wrists, and there was no way the buttons would ever close on his frame.

With a broad smile, Calvin said, “Do you see these shoulders?”

She nodded studiously. “I do. I do.”

“This is about enough fabric for one of my pockets.” Calvin chuckled.

“I promise, this one will be perfect,” Janae said, holding a charcoal-gray soft wool blazer toward him.

Feigning reluctance, Calvin slid into the blazer.

Janae stood back, a loose fist under her chin, admiring the fit. Even with the blazer buttoned, she noted Calvin's muscular physique.

Calvin brushed his hands along the front of the jacket. “I like it. What do you think?”

Her eyes met his. “You are handsome,” she said, a little too quickly. “I mean, you
look
handsome . . . in that jacket.”

He smiled broadly and slightly bowed his head. “Thank you, Janae.” They stood quietly for a moment, staring at each other.

“Well, aren't we the pair? You, devastatingly beautiful; me, handsome,” Calvin said, playfully pounding his chest.

Janae was rendered speechless by his compliment.