Every Reasonable Doubt (12 page)

B
right and early on Monday morning I accompanied Neddy on my first visit to Division 30 of the Los Angeles County Criminal Courts building. Our client, now an accused criminal, was being arraigned today with a bunch of other accused criminals.

The minute we walked into the arraignments courtroom, I felt like I’d just been hurled off a merry-go-round. The entire room vibrated with activity. The judge, peering down from his perch, was listening to a spiel from an attorney standing behind the prosecutor’s table while a host of different conversations was going on all around them. I counted a couple of bailiffs, a court reporter, three court clerks, and at least six attorneys standing inside the well of the courtroom, the sacred ground where all the action took place. Sloppy stacks of papers were piled everywhere. My first thought was that somebody needed to hire a housekeeper.

The entire courtroom had a gloomy, depressing aura about it, due in part to the dark teak wood paneling that ran from floor to ceiling. Ancient, low-watt lighting painted the air with an ugly yellow film. I wasn’t even facing any charges and I felt doomed. Along the west side of the wall, a glassed-encased area held two long benches with rows of men and women, mostly black and brown, in bright orange jumpsuits. Except for the smoking lounge at LAX, I’d never seen human beings caged like animals before.

Further down, along the same wall, five or six bored-looking people sat behind huge metal desks, reading newspapers and magazines. The sign on the wall above their heads identified them as interpreters. Directly in front of them were several rows of graffiti-scarred wooden benches that seated an array of courtroom spectators. Most of the worn-looking occupants sitting in this section had their eyes glued on the cage, straining their necks in all directions, trying to get a glimpse of a loved one. A young woman in the front row balancing a toddler on each hip was trying to read the lips of a battered-looking black man trapped inside the cage, ignoring the sign in English and Spanish that read: “Communicating with prisoners is forbidden by law.”

A handful of TV cameramen sat slumped on the back row of the spectators’ section. I assumed they were waiting for Tina’s arraignment since I wasn’t aware of any other major case in the news recently.

“This is wild,” I whispered to Neddy. “I can’t believe how much is going on in here. How can anybody concentrate? In a civil courtroom, you can hear a pin drop.”

“I guess that’s why they call what you do civil and what I do criminal,” she smiled.

I stayed put as Neddy entered the well, another distinct difference from most civil courtrooms where entering the courtroom’s inner sanctum while court was in session without the clerk’s permission was a definite no-no.

Neddy gave the bailiff a big hug, then waved me over.

I followed after her, feeling like a scared teenager who’d mistakenly ventured onto gang turf. I was definitely out of my element. I longed for the civilized calm of a federal district courtroom.

“This is making me woozy,” I said. “It sounds like everybody’s talking in code. How can anybody keep up with everything going on in here?”

Neddy smiled again. “You just do. It all seems kind of normal after a while.” Neddy whispered to the bailiff. “How many arraignments today, Bobby?”

He picked up a clipboard. “We’ve got almost two hundred and we just got started. Who’s your client?”

“Tina Montgomery.”

Bailiff Bobby scanned his clipboard again. “You might be up before midnight,” he joked.

“I need a favor,” Neddy said. “We’re on our way to meet with our client. When her case is called, can you bring her out without seating her in the cage?”

“You got it,” he said.

We walked over to a door near the cage. From there, a guard led us down a long, white corridor and into a room barely bigger than a bathroom. About ten minutes later a guard brought Tina into the room. Her hands were cuffed in front of her and she was wearing a dingy orange two-piece outfit that resembled a surgeon’s garb.

“Could you remove the handcuffs, please?” Neddy said to the guard, who complied without responding and stayed planted near the door.

“How’re you making out?” Neddy asked, as Tina sat down across from us.

“I can’t stay here another night,” she cried. It was the first time I’d seen utter defeat in her eyes. “I can’t do this. I don’t belong here. You have to get me out of here.”

“The guard’s going to bring you out for arraignment shortly,” Neddy said, occasionally eyeing the deputy, who pretended to be ignoring us. “It’ll be a very short proceeding. The judge is going to ask you the questions we already went over with you. Do you remember what we discussed and how you should answer?”

Tina nodded.

“We’re going to push for bail, but—”

“But nothing!” Tina snapped. “I don’t care how you do it, just get me out of here. I cannot—I will not—spend another night in here!”

Both Neddy and I were rocked by the hostility in Tina’s voice. She still hadn’t come to terms with the seriousness of the situation she was facing. The rich bitch’s syndrome, I thought. There was no way her husband’s money was going to buy her out of this mess.

“We’ll do what we can,” Neddy said, undaunted by Tina’s angry outburst. “The D.A.’s opposing bail, but this judge is pretty lenient. Still, I can’t make you any promises.”

Tina gave Neddy a look so hateful it summoned up my doubts about her innocence, not to mention her emotional stability.

When we returned to the courtroom, we saw Julie standing near the interpreters’ desks. Neddy marched off in her direction and I followed.

“Hello,” Neddy said, making an effort to be cordial. “How are you?”

“Just fine.”

“Should I assume that your position on bail hasn’t changed?”

Julie chuckled arrogantly, as if she couldn’t believe the insanity of Neddy’s question. “That would be an accurate assumption. You should also know I’m thinking about amending the indictment and filing this as a death penalty case.”

“What!?” Neddy said, her voice far too loud for the setting. Several people looked in our direction, including the judge. “You have to be kidding!”

“Well, I’m not,” Julie said and stalked off.

“This is Julie’s typical grandstanding, overkill bullshit,” Neddy hissed, as we watched Julie walk out of the courtroom. “Which is exactly the reason she has such a poor win-loss record.”

It was another ninety minutes before Tina was trotted out for her arraignment. The cameramen jumped to attention, focusing their lenses on Tina as the sheriff’s deputy positioned her in front of the cage. She looked even smaller and weaker than she had just minutes ago. I sat in the spectator’s section while Neddy stepped forward to represent Tina.

“People vs. Montgomery,” the judge said, perking up, obviously realizing he was going to be on the six o’clock news tonight. He solemnly read the charge. “Murder in the first degree. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” Tina squeaked.

Neddy straightened her shoulders. “Defendant requests to be released on her own recognizance, Your Honor.”

The judge looked as if he wanted to laugh. He turned to the prosecutor. “Ms. Killabrew?”

“The People request that the defendant be denied bail. She’s a very wealthy woman accused of an extremely heinous crime and we believe she’s a flight risk. Furthermore, we’re considering filing this as a capital case.”

“There’s no evidence of any aggravating circumstances here,” Neddy said quickly.

“There’s plenty, Your Honor, and it will all be introduced at the appropriate time.”

Neddy remained composed. “Your Honor, my client is innocent until proven guilty. There’s no reason to keep her confined in jail. She’s a longtime member of this community with no prior criminal record. The prosecution’s case is totally circumstantial. There’s no reason she shouldn’t qualify for the electronic surveillance program. She will also surrender her passport to the court.”

Neddy hadn’t discussed the electronic surveillance program with Tina or with me.

Julie didn’t relent. “The People object, Your Honor, and we reiterate our request that the court deny bail. We don’t want to send the wrong message that wealthy defendants get special treatment.”

The look on the judge’s face said he resented Julie’s attempt to publicly shame him into keeping Tina behind bars. With all the media attention following Max Montgomery’s death, the judge knew his every move would be dissected on the evening news.

He began fumbling with some papers on his desk. “After careful consideration of the argument on both sides,” he said sternly, “the court sets bail in the amount of one million dollars. The defendant must also surrender her passport to the court and will be subject to the electronic surveillance program while out on bail.”

“Mrs. Montgomery, you have the right to a preliminary hearing in ten court days. Do you wish to waive time?”

Tina hesitated for far too long. My heart skipped a good three beats. Neddy had given her clear instructions to respond in the affirmative when she was asked this question. What was she doing?

“Mrs. Montgomery, do you understand my question?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Tina said tentatively. “I want my hearing in ten days.”

Even the court clerks stopped what they were doing to take note. Defendants never rushed to prelim. And there certainly was no reason to rush now since Tina was being allowed to post bail.

I thought Neddy’s head was going to explode. Tina refused to look at her.

“Counselor, have you discussed this matter with your client?”

“Yes, I have, Your Honor,” Neddy said through clenched teeth. It was not good for the world to see that she did not have client control.

“And does your client have a clear understanding of the consequences of proceeding with her preliminary hearing in ten days.”

“Well, Your Honor, I’d like to talk to my client again to—”

Tina interrupted her. “We don’t need to talk again, you’ve already explained it to me. I don’t want to waive my rights. I’m innocent and I want this thing over with. I want my preliminary hearing held as soon as possible.”

Even Julie looked a little panic-stricken. The prosecution probably needed more time to prepare for the prelim than we did.

“Okay then, counselor,” the judge said. “I’m setting the prelim for one week from Wednesday in Division 5, before Judge Mckee.”

T
he bailiff took Tina back into lockup to process her out. I traipsed after Neddy as she stormed into the hallway outside the courtroom.

“Can you believe that crap Tina just pulled!?” Neddy was trembling with anger. She glanced up and down the corridor to make sure none of the TV news cameras was within earshot. But they had all taken off after Julie. “We’re not ready to defend that prelim in a week. We haven’t even seen the prosecution’s evidence. She’s sabotaging her own damn case.”

“How long before they release her?” I asked.

“At least a couple of hours.”

“Are you going to confront Tina about this?”

Neddy looked at me like I was nuts. “You’re damn straight. If we’re handling this case, then these are the kind of decisions
we
should make. If not, she can find herself some new lawyers.”

Neddy took a seat on a wooden bench and I joined her.

“Do we pick Tina up downstairs?”

“We shouldn’t pick her ass up at all,” she said, still steaming. Her stiff shoulders suddenly sagged. “We have to meet her over at the Twin Towers on Bauchet Street. I can’t believe she screwed us like that,” Neddy said again. “I’ve never had a client do that to me.”

It wasn’t quite lunchtime yet, but we decided to head for the cafeteria anyway.

“What now?” I asked when we were alone on the elevator.

“Assuming Tina doesn’t fire us after I read her the riot act, we need to get to work on our cross-examination outlines. Julie will probably call the crime scene investigator and the coroner. We can start there until she discloses the rest of her witnesses.”

Neddy was staring off into space, apparently still reeling from Tina’s deliberate act of defiance. “Can you make it over to my place tonight?” she asked.

“No problem,” I said, although I knew another late night would be a very big problem for Jefferson.

When we stepped off the elevator, the huge tinted windows that lined the exterior of the Criminal Courts building provided a perfect view of Julie standing on the front steps surrounded by a half-circle of reporters and cameramen.

Neddy groaned and took off in the opposite direction.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing her by the sleeve and pulling her toward the window. “Don’t you want to hear what the competition has to say?”

“No, not really. I’ll catch the 30-second version on the eleven o’clock news tonight. If those reporters see us standing here, they’ll be on us like bees on honey. I don’t exactly need that right now. Let’s get out of here.”

“C’mon,” I said, inching toward the double doors, still tugging on her sleeve. “We’ll stand right here where they can’t see us.” We remained inside the building, close enough to the doors to hear Julie’s words but safely out of view of any of the TV cameras.

“Max Montgomery contributed tremendously to the growth and success of this city,” Julie announced sanctimoniously, occasionally taking a single wisp of blond hair from her forehead and daintily sweeping it behind her ear. “And we owe it to him to see that his killer is brought to justice. Once this trial is underway, the evidence will show that Tina Montgomery is the person responsible for brutally stabbing Max Montgomery to death. While I’m puzzled over the judge’s decision to grant her bail request, I have to abide by the court’s ruling.”

“Oh, I like that one,” Neddy whispered. “Piss off the judge.”

Julie paused for just a second and the reporters all shouted questions at her at once.

Neddy abruptly walked away. “Let’s go.”

“I think we should stay and listen,” I groaned, as I squeezed through the crowd to catch up with her. “She might say something that could help us with our defense.”

Neddy stopped and looked back at me. “Julie’s a bitch and a media hound, but she’s not stupid. This case could put her on the map. She’s not throwing us any freebies.”

“Well, it can’t hurt to hear what else she has to say,” I complained, as I scurried after her into the ladies’ room.

“And just what’re you going to say if one of those reporters sticks a mike in your face?” She pushed on the doors of each of the four stalls to make sure we were alone, then spun around and stuck an imaginary microphone inches from my lips. “Ms. Henderson, the D.A. feels she has very strong circumstantial evidence against your client. How do you expect to win this case?”

The question came at me much too fast to form an intelligent response.

“Ms. Henderson,” Neddy said, tapping her foot and pushing her balled-up fist closer to my lips, “the cameras are rolling. Do you have a response?”

“Well,” I said, a bit more composed now and ready to play the game, “we’re equally confident that justice will prevail at trial and that the jury will acquit our client.”

“Trial? What about the preliminary hearing, Ms. Henderson? Are you conceding the fact that the prosecution has enough evidence to prevail at the preliminary hearing next week?”

I instantly realized my misstep. “Okay, I see your point. Stay away from reporters.”

“Exactly,” Neddy said, satisfied with her little communications lesson.

We left the restroom, walked into the cafeteria, and grabbed trays and silverware.

“So you don’t plan to do
any
interviews during this trial?” I said, lowering my voice in case someone was listening. “Do you know how easy it is for a lawyer to become a celebrity after a case like this?”

“Watch it,” Neddy said, this time with a smile, “you’re starting to sound a lot like O’Reilly.”

“Oh, that’s a low blow,” I laughed. “All I’m saying is there could be some benefits to defending this case. Let’s not be too high and mighty about this TV stuff.”

“I’ll talk to the media when it’s in Tina’s best interest for me to do so,” she said. “Right now, we need to lay low and put all of our energies into defending our client. When the time is right, we’ll go on the attack. We don’t need to get into a catfight with Julie now. That’s exactly what she wants us to do.”

Neddy proceeded down the cafeteria line and stopped to grab a turkey sandwich wrapped in Saran Wrap. “Besides, I guarantee you, whether we talk to the press or not, we’ll reap all the glory we can handle when Tina gets acquitted.”