Premeditated Murder (19 page)

    Anyway, I wanted to tell you that one of my lawyers, the one named Zack, has a little boy named Justin. I've never met Justin, but I get this feeling that you'd like him. I saw a picture of him once, and he reminded me of you.

Zack stood up. “Yes, Judge Baumgartner, we do have a motion.” Then the judge started asking him questions. The white-haired D.A. looked like he was more interested in who was in the audience than what Zack had to say. The young woman sitting next to the D.A., though, was paying real close attention.

    The picture also reminded me of some of the fun things that we used to do. I loved the races we had. You were getting faster every day. You almost beat me that time we raced outside the hotel in South Carolina. Remember that? And do you remember the drawing game? I used to love that game. I still don't know where you learned how to draw horses so well. Did Mommy teach you that?

Somebody said something from behind Cal, and a sort of swell of movement and noise drowned out Zack for a second. The judge started banging his gavel. Two men and a woman left the courtroom in a hurry.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the judge started quietly after things had sort of settled down. He looked really friendly. Judge Grandpa. “This is not the first time we have all been together on this case, and I know that it will not be the last time, either. As you know, our American system of justice proudly conducts itself in public, for it is one of the safeguards the people of this country have against the misuse of power. However.” He took a sip from a coffee mug on his desk and put it down. “The principal role of the justice system is, of course, to render justice. And in order for that to happen, the lawyers, the defendant, and I all need quiet, so we can hear what is being said, and, should we choose to do so, so we can actually think.” He stopped again. This time he stared straight at the spot in the courtroom where the noise had come from. Then he smiled, and looked back at the middle of the room, and said, “I am now ordering the court officers to summarily remove anyone from this courtroom who makes any noise whatsoever which, in their opinion, is disruptive. I doubt that will be necessary. And of course, if that measure does not satisfy me that this proceeding can continue in a proper fashion, I will order that the courtroom be cleared, and no one will be in attendance for this hearing.” The place got real quiet real fast. The court reporter's pen made a scratching sound as she wrote something on a pad next to the tape recorder she was using. The judge looked back at Zack, who had remained standing. “I'm sorry, Mr. Wilson,” he said. “Please go ahead.”

“Thanks, Judge,” Zack said. “Your Honor, before I begin, I need to request that the record of this proceeding reflect that I am one of the very many Anglo-American males in this courtroom. My cocounsel, Mr. Tallach, is one of the very few Scottish/Jewish American males.” He leaned forward slightly and looked across at the prosecutors' table. The white-haired D.A. was trying to play it cool, but his smile was fake. “The district attorney, Mr. O'Neill, is also an Anglo-American male; his cocounsel, Assistant District Attorney Ruben, is a Jewish American female; and Police Chief Darryl Brooks, who is also seated at opposing counsel's table, is an African American male.” Then he looked back at the judge. “And finally, Your Honor is an Anglo-American male.”

Terry and Zack had told Cal that they were going to complain to the judge about the fact that in just about every news report of the case, he had been referred to as “a large, African American male.” While the district attorney squirmed around in his chair, Zack showed the judge that nobody's else's race or size was ever mentioned in any of the reports. Then Zack showed the judge some other cases where a white guy was charged with murder, and how, in far more than half of the news reports on that case, the defendant's race was never mentioned. The district attorney whispered something to the young woman next to him, who was still reading the papers Zack had given to them.

It was funny how big a deal white people made about stuff like that. Did they really think this was going to change things? He walked into an apartment and shot six people. He was black, he was six foot five inches tall, and he weighed two hundred and fifty pounds. This was America, not someplace in an Ursula Le Guin novel. People were going to notice.

    Remember the joke book we were writing? I'd like to read it again. I wish we had spent more time writing those jokes. I thought you were really getting good at it, Kev. That one about the toaster still makes me laugh when I think about it.

Now Zack was talking about stuff that the district attorney had said to reporters, like “I'm confident that we have a strong case.” He said that like ten times. And he said about five times, “We believe that after a full trial of the facts in this case, the jury will return a verdict of guilty.” And the one he used the most, like twenty times, was “Race is not a part of this case. The fact that the defendant is a black man has nothing to do with why he is being prosecuted under the death penalty statute. We believe that this crime warrants the death penalty, and if the defendant is convicted, as we fully expect, then we also expect that he will face execution.” The D.A. was smirking. He reached over and took the legal pad his assistant was writing on, wrote something himself, underlined it about a hundred times, and then pushed it back to her with a smile. The young woman read it and looked up at him, but he had already turned away, and was now smiling up at the judge.

Zack looked up from the papers he was reading from and spoke right to the judge. He was finishing up. “Your Honor, my cocounsel and I have submitted affidavits attesting to the fact that we have made no statements about the case to the press. Disciplinary Rule 7-107 specifically prohibits any lawyer from making a statement about his or her opinion of the case, as well as several other things we've outlined in the memorandum supporting our motion. I think the prosecutor's office has made a regular practice of flagrantly disregarding these rules, not only injecting their own opinion into the case but also making an issue of the defendant's race, in a not-too-subtle attempt to prejudice and taint the jury pool. The latest example was printed just yesterday, where a very unflattering picture of the defendant appeared on the front page of a newspaper with the headline ‘Baby Killer, Too?' under it, followed by some ludicrous suggestion that the Commonwealth might attempt to exhume one of the victims' bodies. These practices should not only subject the district attorney to disciplinary action because they are ethical violations, but they should also be stopped by this court because they threaten to deprive the defendant of any hope of a fair trial. In fact, polls taken by that same newspaper indicate that already ninety percent of the population has made up their mind that the defendant is guilty, and we haven't even started the trial yet.

“In order to address that, the defendant seeks two things from this court. First, an order forbidding the prosecution from making any further statements to the press, and second, sanctions against the Commonwealth to attempt to reestablish an even playing field. Specifically, allowing the defendant to refuse to produce any further discovery to the prosecution before the trial of this case.”

There was a slight noise from some people seated in the back of the room who left as soon as Zack was finished, but all it took was a quick look from the judge in that direction, and everyone fell silent again.

The D.A. was whispering something to his assistant, who was trying to listen and, at the same time, pull some book out of her briefcase.

The judge cleared his throat. “Does the Commonwealth wish to be heard at this time?”

The D.A. almost jumped to his feet. “Yes, Your Honor, briefly.” He looked down at his assistant, who was flipping the pages of a book open, frantically trying to find something. He reached down and picked up the legal pad she had been writing on, flipped over the first page, skimming her notes. He set the pad down and put on a serious face.

“First of all,” he began, “I'd like to object for the record to the ambush tactics that the defense has used today. I received a copy of this motion for the first time about ten minutes ago. However, a few things did come to mind as my brother addressed the court.” When the D.A. said the words “my brother,” Terry closed his eyes. It didn't look like he really wanted to be in the same family as the D.A. “The Commonwealth's position from the beginning in this case is that there is no racial component to it. The defendant is an African American, and three of the six victims in this case were African Americans. If anyone is playing the race card here, it's the defendant's attorneys, not the Commonwealth.”

The D.A. looked pretty pleased with himself. “Furthermore,” he said, “the Commonwealth can't possibly control what will or won't be speculated on in the newspapers about possible pregnancies, or anything else, for that matter.” His assistant handed him the legal pad again, pointing to some notes she had made. He looked up at the judge again. “As to the other points that were raised in the defendant's motion, the Commonwealth requests a reasonable time to prepare an opposition.”

“Very well,” said the judge. He opened a large red book, made a note on one of the pages, and looked down at the lawyers. “The Commonwealth will file any opposition to the defendant's motion within two weeks from today.” Now the D.A. looked like he was really happy. His assistant didn't, but he didn't seem to notice. The judge continued. “With that understanding in place, I would like to ask the Commonwealth whether it has made statements to the press regarding this case.” Terry hit Zack's leg under the table. Zack looked over at Terry, who was staring at the judge, stone-faced. Something good was going to happen.

The D.A. looked a little wary. He touched his tie and said, “Yes, Your Honor. There has been a great deal of media interest in the case, and we have accommodated that interest by organizing press conferences from time to time.”

“I see,” said the judge. “Do you have personal knowledge of who it was that spoke from your office at these press conferences?”

The D.A.'s face started to change color. This wasn't where he had expected this to go. He was mad. Zack's mouth moved a fraction of an inch. Otherwise, he and Terry looked like mannequins from an ugly clothing store. They were loving this. “As I mentioned, Your Honor, the Commonwealth is not prepared at this time to specifically rebut—”

“Yes, Mr. O'Neill,” the judge interrupted. “I understand that. I am merely trying to get some sense of the way the Commonwealth is handling its communication to the media in this case. For example, I am very interested in learning whether the Commonwealth has been offering opinions as to the strength of the case against the defendant or the likely outcome of the trial. Are you personally aware of any comments of that nature coming from your office?”

The Tomato Heads. That's what Cal's son used to call people who got red in the face when they were angry. If Kevin had seen the D.A. right now, he would have thought he'd met the Grand Tomato. But then something shifted, and the D.A. seemed to calm down. The color in his face faded a little and he started to smile like he wasn't mad at all. “Judge, I spoke at those press conferences, and I can assure the court that whatever statements were made, they were completely appropriate. We believe we have a strong case, and I have said exactly what other D.A.s across this country have said for years about cases such as this.”

Zack got a puzzled look on his face and leaned forward in his seat to check out the D.A. Terry's eyes widened. He was biting his lip. Whatever the D.A. just said, it wasn't smart.

“Very well,” the judge said. He took a minute to write a few things down on a piece of paper. “I've decided to take the defendant's motion under advisement, but pending my decision, I am now issuing a preliminary injunction restraining the defendant, the defendant's attorneys and their staff, and the district attorney's office from making any statements to the press regarding this case. Is that understood?”

Terry stood up. “Yes, Your Honor. The defendant will continue to make no statements to the press.”

The judge studied him for a moment, his face flat, and then nodded. “Very good.” He turned to the D.A. “Mr. O'Neill?”

The D.A. smiled, but his heart wasn't in it. “Of course, Your Honor.” He swallowed and tried to look like he hadn't just lost something.

Then the judge said, “I'd like to see counsel in chambers,” and stood up.

One of the court officers shouted, “Court's in recess, all rise!” and everybody stood up. The judge left the courtroom though a door behind his desk. Terry leaned over to Cal, clapped him on the shoulder, and whispered, “Did we rock, or did we fuckin' rock?” Then Zack said, “We'll see you in the lockup before we go.” And then they were gone.

    I've got to go now, Kevin. I'll write again soon. I think that the lawyers think they did something good here today, but I don't really see it. I still shot those people. Nothing's going to change that, whether the lawyers talk to the reporters or not.

    Oh. One more thing. I think I know what it is that I was feeling when I came into the courtroom today. I think I felt afraid. I still do. I'll try to think of you and be strong.

Love, Daddy