Every Reasonable Doubt (19 page)

J
udge McKee promised to render a decision within the week. In the meantime, we needed to prepare Tina for the inevitable.

The day after the hearing, David, Neddy and I convened at Tina’s house. I invited Neddy to tag along because I didn’t expect our heart-to-heart to go well. During our ride home after the prelim, Tina seemed quite optimistic that Judge McKee would find no probable cause and allow her to replace her bulky ankle bracelet with a more attractive piece from her extensive jewelry collection. But I considered the testimony of Lopez and Frye pretty disastrous for the defense. In Tina’s naïve layman’s mind, since no one saw her stab Max to death, she should go free.

When we had all settled into the purple living room, Neddy mapped out the case as objectively as possible, trying to help Tina view the evidence from a legal perspective. Tina promptly went into hysterics, convinced that she would spend the rest of her life in prison.

“The prosecution won’t have it this easy at trial,” Neddy said, trying to calm her down. “They’ll have to convince a jury, not a judge. And there’re a few tricks we have up our sleeve. We feel we can truly discredit Oscar Lopez. Our detective found two witnesses who’ll testify that Lopez told them he wasn’t sure the woman he saw had a knife in her hand.”

Tina looked alarmed, then angry. “Why wasn’t that evidence used at the hearing?” she demanded.

We had purposely kept this information from Tina, fearing that she would insist on us using it at the prelim. David gave me an I-told-you-so smirk.

“Because it wouldn’t have mattered,” Neddy explained. “It’s still likely that the judge will find probable cause even if our witnesses had testified. At trial, we can spring our witnesses on the prosecution and on Lopez. That single point may be enough to convince one juror to vote not guilty.”

Neddy was doing a good job of explaining our strategy. Tina seemed reluctant to ever question her advice. And after a little more hand-holding from Neddy, by the time we left, Tina seemed prepared to face the inevitable.

There were no surprises when Judge McKee rendered her decision the following day.

We were all gathered in court, except for Neddy, who stayed at the office. Until the police dropped her as a suspect in Lawton’s murder, she couldn’t run the risk of having some reporter stick a microphone in her face.

The court session barely lasted ten minutes. Judge McKee took the bench and quickly went to work. “Based on the evidence, I find that the prosecution has demonstrated probable cause to proceed with the trial of Tina Montgomery on the charge of murder in the first degree.”

Even though we’d advised Tina of this likelihood, she looked horrified and raised her hands to her face. “How can anybody think I killed my husband?” she cried out. “I loved Max.”

I put my arms around her. A move intended to quiet more than comfort.

Judge McKee glanced over at us. I thought she was going to pick up her gavel and bang us into silence, but she proceeded over Tina’s muffled cries. She assigned the case to Judge Clara Graciano for trial. Graciano was a young Italian fireball who relished cases that put her in the spotlight. I could hear the reporters behind us scribbling furiously on their legal pads.

“I have a couple of warnings for both sides,” Judge McKee continued. “Ms. Killabrew, you’ve been spending a lot of time talking to the media. I want to remind you that your job is in the courtroom not on the courthouse steps. I want Mrs. Montgomery to have a fair trial. And if you continue wasting your time getting your mug on the news, you may find yourself facing a gag order.”

Then she turned to me. “Ms. Henderson. I understand you’re a pretty fine lawyer from a pretty fine trial firm. But this is a criminal case, not a civil lawsuit. I suggest you spend some time reviewing the Evidence Code. The courtroom isn’t the place for you to learn the basics of the hearsay rule.”

Tina was still sobbing, while David seemed to be glowing inside.

“That’s it. Court dismissed.”

An hour after my most humiliating courtroom experience, O’Reilly ran into me at the elevator and followed me into my office. He closed the door and took a seat before I bothered to offer him one. I assumed Tina Montgomery had already made her distress call, firing me as her attorney.

He patiently waited while I discarded my purse and briefcase and flopped down behind my desk.

“I understand things didn’t go too well before Judge McKee today,” he said sympathetically.

“That’s an understatement.”

“What happened?”

“Why don’t you tell me? I assume you’re here because you already got the play-by-play from Tina Montgomery. Is she firing me?”

He leaned back and kneaded his fingers behind his neck. “No, she didn’t call. I talked to David. He thought you were a little unsure of yourself during cross-examination and said you didn’t know hearsay was admissible at a prelim.”

The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “That’s not exactly true. And anyway, you knew when you assigned me to this case that I didn’t know criminal law,” I said.

“My mistake,” O’Reilly said fumbling for words. He was not good at beating around the bush. “You really needed a break after the Hayes trial. I should’ve realized that. I’m going to talk to Mrs. Montgomery. It might be best to take you off the case.”

His words filled me with a confused mix of emotions. On the one hand dumping this case and running home to my husband was exactly what I wanted to do. But I’d never been kicked off a case before and I didn’t want to be kicked off this one. The
Times
had run a big article praising me and Neddy. Now Neddy was off the case because she was a murder suspect and I was about to be thrown off for incompetence. Would they have to write a retraction?

“You have to be kidding!” I said, with more emotion than I intended. “You can’t make another change. How would that look? So what? I didn’t know that hearsay evidence was admissible at a prelim. Now, all of a sudden, everybody’s ready to charge me with malpractice? I know this case. I can do this. I’m a good attorney.”

“I know you are. But I had no business taking you out of your element. I was too focused on the possible publicity you and Neddy could bring to the firm.”

“And now that the publicity isn’t so good, you’re abandoning us?”

He did not like my characterization of his decision. He sat up and leaned forward. “I thought you were having difficulty with the idea of defending someone you thought might be guilty?”

“I’m over that. I really don’t think it’s a good idea to change attorneys on this case again,” I insisted. “I have to think this stuff with Neddy will blow over soon. That’s who I should be trying this case with. Not David.”

O’Reilly’s forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t know you two had such a contentious relationship. That won’t be good for the client.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure Tina Montgomery is well represented. Even if it means getting along with David until Neddy’s back. Just don’t take me off this case. Besides, who else would handle it?”

“I was thinking about letting David fly solo?”

“Tina won’t go for that,” I said quickly. “She’ll take the case to another firm.”

“O’Reilly, it doesn’t make sense to make another change of counsel.”

“Look, Vernetta—”

I cut him off. I did not want to be taken off this case. I had to hit O’Reilly where it hurt. “The next story in the
Times
about Max Montgomery’s murder is going to take a crack at our firm and the revolving door of attorneys you’ve assigned to this case.” When he wiped a hand across his face, I knew my words had registered. O’Reilly’s foremost concern was always the firm. I decided to go for the jugular.

“If you make another change, the whole firm’ll look incompetent We’ll never get another high-profile criminal case.”

He paused and I allowed him to ponder my last point in silence. I could see he was imagining the possible headlines.

“Okay, okay,” he said, standing up. “You’re still on the case, but I don’t want any more screwups.”

“G
irlfriend, you look like you’ve aged ten years,” Special said, staring up at me. “What’s up with that?”

I called her from the office seconds after my conversation with O’Reilly and begged her to meet me for a drink at T.G.I. Friday’s after work. When I arrived, she was already seated at our regular booth near the bar and was halfway through a Long Island iced tea. A Diet Coke was waiting for me.

As usual, Special looked spectacular. She was wearing a hot pink Lycra top and skintight stretch jeans with a gold chain dangling from her hips.

“I may look like I’ve aged ten years,” I said, sliding into the seat across from her, “but it feels like twenty.”

“I think it’s definitely time for you to take a vacation.”

“I could use one, I said. “I’m stressed out from the Montgomery case. I’m trying to help Neddy deal with her situation, and Jefferson has shut down completely.”

“I can’t help you with the first two, but I can help you with problem number three.” Special shoved her Long Island iced tea to my side of the table. “First, take a sip of this. You drink too much Diet Coke.”

I started to protest, but then took a sip to avoid a big battle. It tasted awful. I preferred fruity tasting drinks like piña coladas and strawberry daiquiris.

“You need to be there for your man,” Special began. “Jefferson’s not the kind of brother who can ask for help. He’s silently crying out for it, but you’ve been too busy saving everybody except him.”

“Special, I’ve been trying to help him, but he’s closed up like a clam. Every night when I come home he’s either nursing a glass of Hennessy or he’s not there.”

She pointed a pink porcelain fingernail at me. “Now see, that’s the operative word—
night
. Perhaps you ought to think about trying to get home before the streetlights come on.”

“What for? When I do come home, he never wants to talk.”

“Damn,” Special said shaking her head. “I’m amazed that all you super-educated women don’t know jack about men. Even the ones you’re married to. You need to spend a little less time in the courtroom and a little more time out on the street learning something about life. Men, brothers in particular, ain’t trying to talk to nobody when they have a problem, especially not their women.”

I was not in the mood for one of Special’s lectures, but I knew it was too late. “Then what am I supposed to do, Miss I-Know-Everything-About-Everything?” I said.

“Correction,” Special said with righteous indignation. “I don’t know everything about everything. I just know the male species. And what I know about Jefferson is that you need to be there for him. Sit there and watch TV with him. Rub his shoulders. Give him a special treat, if you know what I mean. I bet you still go to bed wearing flannel every night. You need to pull out some of those negligees you got at your bridal shower and give that brother a lap dance every once in a while. Married women forget how to cater to a man.”

“Special, I need some real advice. Not everything is about sex.”

“You’re missing my point. I’m not saying it’s about sex. It’s about making him feel like a man. That’s more important now than ever since the doctor told the brother his Johnson is shooting blanks.”

I took a sip of my Diet Coke, which was watered down from the melted ice.

“And if I were you, I’d be a little worried about Jefferson not being at home when you get there in the evenings. You keep on working all hours of the day and night and that brother’s going to find his way into some other babe’s arms.”

I erased that thought from my mind. “I’m not worried about that. Jefferson’s not that kind of guy.”

Special stretched her neck backward with the dexterity of a giraffe. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you didn’t grow up in the ‘hood. There’s no such thing as a brother who won’t tip under the right circumstances. I agree that Jefferson’s not the kind of dude who’s going to be out there running five or six babes, but I wouldn’t put it past him to go drown his sorrows by getting him a little somethin’, somethin’ on the side. Particularly when his woman’s never available. When’s the last time y’all had sex?”

“Since he found out he was sterile, he hasn’t exactly wanted any.”

“Yep. Your boy is definitely ripe for the picking by some of these L.A. hoochies who know a good man when they see one. You need to be careful. You want me to keep an eye on him?”

“Keep an eye on him?” I chuckled. “Exactly how would you propose to do that?”

“Girl, I can follow his ass. I’d be good at it, too. I had to follow this fool I was dating last year. I knew his ass was messing around. Caught him red-handed and wasn’t shit he could say. Never even knew I was tracking his ass. If I could find the start-up cash, I’d open me up a private investigations firm specializing in tracking down cheating men,” she said. “I already thought up the name. ‘Bust-A-Brother.’”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Special, I’ve got a serious problem and you’re cracking jokes?”

“I’m not joking.” She was actually offended by my lack of support for her proposed business venture. “My office would be right on Crenshaw Boulevard and MLK across from Wal-Mart. That’s a high-traffic area so I know I’d get a lot of business.”

“Well, thanks, but no thanks,” I said. “If I need a private eye, I’ll hire a real one. You’re not even supposed to know about our little problem, remember? So please don’t mention it to Jefferson. I just have to figure out how to make him stop feeling like he’s defective or something.”

“He’ll come around,” she said, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “But in the meantime, it’s only natural for him to feel like less of a man. You know how much stock brothers put into their penises. Jefferson’s a good dude, but he’s going to need you to be patient with him. You don’t have to coddle him, just be somewhere in the vicinity when he’s ready to reach out for you.”

As crazy as Special acted sometimes, what she said made sense.

“I just wish I could take some time off, but I can’t,” I said. “I’m praying Neddy doesn’t end up being charged with her husband’s murder. That means I’ll effectively be handling the Montgomery case by myself because David is useless and I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”

“Girl, you don’t have to be everybody’s savior. You’re doing the same thing you did when you worked at Brandon & Bass. Putting your job before your man.” She stopped to wag a disapproving finger in my face. “You lucked out once. You may not be so lucky the second time around. Anyway, don’t be putting your neck out for Neddy’s behind. She probably killed that man.”

“No, she didn’t,” I said.

Special’s hands flew to her hips. “And just how do you know that?”

“Because I just do,” I insisted. I tried to block out the angry words I heard Neddy shouting at her husband.
I’ll kill you before I give you a dime.
I refused to believe she could be guilty of murder. Tina, yes. Neddy, no. Hell no.

“Girl, sometimes I wonder how you ever got a law degree.” Special picked up a cube of ice from her drink and started crunching on it. “Is that what you’re going to tell the judge? ‘Neddy’s innocent because I just know she’s innocent.’ I wouldn’t blame her if she did kill that fool. Ain’t no way in hell I’m paying a man alimony, particularly some sorry chump like that. Does she have an alibi?”

“Not really. She was home by herself. Didn’t make any phone calls and can’t point to anyone who can verify her whereabouts.”

“Damn,” Special said, turning up her glass. “It definitely don’t look good for that sister.”