Legally Wasted (30 page)

“Mr. Monroe,” said an all too familiar voice
to Larkin’s left. He turned to see Wendy McAdams seated as lead
counsel for the prosecution. His face dropped. She clicked the
heels of her long black boots in delight. “Nice to see you here
this morning, Mr. Monroe.”

He shook his head. “This is a federal
action,” said Larkin. “You have no right to be here. You’re state
court, Wendy. You’re not a federal prosecutor.”

She smiled. “Interesting choice of words
given that many would argue that
you
have no right to be
here.” She straightened her glasses to get a better look at his
jailbird duds.

Sweat formed at the top of his brow. He
stared at the empty Judge’s bench. “We’ll see,” he said. Larkin
gripped the thick fabric bunching up beneath his knees and
straightened his jumpsuit. His stomach twisted as it recalled the
last time he had tangled with Wendy McAdams.

“All rise,” one of the bailiff’s bellowed.
Larkin jumped from his seat, but a strong hand, courtesy of the
U.S. Marshal’s Service, clamped on his left shoulder and pinned him
to the chair. “Oy ye, oy ye,” the bailiff shouted. “Silence is
commanded. The Honorable United States District Court Judge
Victoria Wexler presiding. Please come to order. This Court is now
in session.”

Judge Wexler walked briskly into the
courtroom, her judicial robe billowing impressively behind her
small frame. Quite some time had passed since Larkin had last seen
Judge Wexler. He had not attended her son’s funeral and his limited
law practice never sent him to federal court. Despite the years,
she looked just as spry and energetic as she had seemed when Larkin
had won his freedom. Not a gray hair shone in her neatly styled
short red hair.

“Please be seated,” she said as she made her
way to her chair. The courtroom was filled with the sounds of
shuffling feet. “Will the Clerk please call the case?”

A woman seated at a desk just a bit lower
than the Judge’s bench stood. She clasped a paper tightly in her
hand, but the video cameras must have got the best of her. The
document shook in her thin fingers. “
Bedford County and others
versus Trans-Appalachian Railways
, Virginia Supreme Court Case
Number, 09954268.”

“Is the petitioner ready?” the Judge asked as
she looked at Larkin. Her bright eyes showed no pity. Larkin
scooted his chair back, but Wendy McAdams was at her feet before he
had a chance to stand.

“Your Honor, I’m Wendy McAdams, special
appointed prosecutor for the Commonwealth of Virginia. Mr. Monroe
is not a party to
Bedford County versus Tran-Appalachian
Railways
. He has never been a party to that matter. It is a
state civil court action. Mr. Monroe has no standing and this court
has no jurisdiction to hear anything that he may say.” Two federal
prosecutors nodded in agreement at Wendy’s table.

“I see,” said Judge Wexler.

“His only point to this whole farce is to
somehow cast slanderous remarks on high-ranking officials in the
state government in order to cause a spectacle. Mr. Monroe is
charged with murder and this action here today is a violation of
due process.”

“I thought due process protected the
accused,” said the Judge. Wendy opened her mouth as if to speak but
then suddenly fell silent. Her mouth hung open for too long as she
considered her words. She was a damned fine attorney on her feet,
but this was the big leagues.

“Your Honor,” she finally said after flipping
through some pages on her table, “due process ensures that the
accused has a right to the protections of the judicial system. By
holding this very hearing, this Court has suspended that right. Mr.
Monroe has a right to be heard in the Big Lick City Circuit Court
for the crimes of which he has been charged. He does not have the
right to collaterally attack due process with these proceedings.
The State moves to quash all of Mr. Monroe’s subpoenas and end this
matter. If he had due process arguments, the state courts have
avenues. After he is jailed and sentenced to life in prison, for
example, he can file a habeas petition.”

The Judge raised her eyebrows. “I get your
point, Ms. McAdams.” She rotated her chair ever so slightly. “Mr.
Monroe?” Larkin stood. Every head to his right turned to view him.
“What would you have to say after all of that?” asked the Judge.
“Am I violating your due process rights?”

“No, ma’am,” said Larkin. “You’re going to
ensure that they’re protected.”

“And how will I do that, Mr. Monroe?”

Larkin cleared his throat. “Your Honor, we’re
here on my Motion for a Writ of Coram Nobis.”

“I’m aware of that, counselor,” said the
Judge. She picked up a copy of Larkin’s handwritten papers that he
had drafted at Millie’s house. “Do you even know what that Motion
is, counselor?”

“Yes, your Honor,” said Larkin. “I believe it
has been referred to as ‘the most extraordinary writ.’”

The Judge nodded. “That’s right. I’ve read
that too. Those are strong words. Do you realize that a Writ of
Coram Nobis has not been granted, as far as I’m aware, since -
-”

“The nineteen forties, your Honor,” said
Larkin. “It’s the writ that allows this Court to examine a grave
injustice. When there is no other remedy at law, and yet injustice
would still stand, the writ must be granted.”

“Your Honor,” interjected Wendy, “the Writ of
Coram Nobis was used for redress after the Japanese internment
camps of World War II. This is not the internment camps. Mr. Monroe
is not a marginalized people or a political prisoner of the state.
Mr. Monroe has a remedy at law. It is to face his charges with all
the constitutional guarantees of due process in the Commonwealth’s
courts. This court can end this hearing and due process can
continue. Mr. Monroe will be afforded all of the rights deemed
appropriate and just pursuant to Virginia’s legal system. He will
have the opportunity to prove his innocence in a court of law just
like everyone else.”

The Judge nodded. “I feel that I understand
your position, Ms. McAdams. You’ve done the research.”

“Yes, your Honor,” said Wendy, “and
furthermore, Coram Nobis is restricted, I believe, to the actual
trial court, not
any
trial court that - -”

“Ms. McAdams?” interrupted the Judge.

“Yes?” Wendy brushed a loose strand of her
curly blond hair from her face.

“Will you do the Court the honor of allowing
me to compliment the Commonwealth?”

Wendy opened her mouth, but no words came.
She finally nodded and sat down.

“Thank you, Ms. McAdams,” continued the
Judge. “I love when my attorneys come to me with their bases
covered. I take it you’ve researched the Writ of Coram Nobis
through and through?”

“Absolutely,” said Wendy.

“And would you agree with the Court, Mr.
Monroe,” said the Judge as she glanced in his direction, “that it
is the most extraordinary writ?”

“I would, your Honor.”

The Judge’s eyes darted back to Wendy. “Then
the Commonwealth of Virginia should understand this Court’s
interest in further inquiry at this time. If it so extraordinary, I
must know if Mr. Monroe can demonstrate any basis for the extreme
possibility of me granting it.”

One of Wendy’s black boots stomped on the
wooden floor. A nearby bailiff involuntarily gripped his baton.
Larkin silently hoped that the attorney for the State was about to
get thumped. “Your Honor,” she nearly shouted, “you can’t possibly
- -”

“Ms. McAdams,” said the Judge. She did that
amazing thing with her voice where she broadcasted very loudly, yet
her tone remained classy and controlled, essentially unchanged. “I
didn’t say that I would grant the writ. I said I would hear the man
out. I don’t believe due process would be offended if I permit Mr.
Monroe to make his case as to why he deserves such a writ.” Again,
the Judge swiveled, but only slightly. “Mr. Monroe? Will you please
state your case?”

“Gladly, your Honor.” Larkin turned and
looked though the crowd again. “Uh, your Honor,” he said after
several moments of frantically searching among the faces, “I
believe that I effectively served several individuals with notice
to be here today.”

“And they may be,” said the Judge. “I have
excluded all witnesses.”

Larkin faced the Court. “You did? There has
been no motion.”

“I motioned,” said Ms. McAdams as she popped
back from her chair. She looked to Larkin. “Pre-trial motion,” she
said. “Ex parte.”

“Ex parte?” repeated Larkin. “Your Honor, the
Court cannot have - -”

Judge Wexler raised her hand. A pearl
bracelet slid down her wrist resting mid-way down her forearm. For
the first time in the hearing, she scowled. “Mr. Monroe,
notwithstanding any clarification you may provide regarding the
merits of your case, Ms. McAdams is far closer to the bull’s eye on
a number of her arguments than you think. If she wants to protect
her client on a number of pre-trial issues, I will allow it. You
are asking for something extraordinary, maybe even something
impossible.” She leaned forward. The fabric of her judicial robe
rubbed against the microphone and created an unpleasant noise on
the court’s audio system. “You ask for the extraordinary and
extraordinary measures are taken. I would not deign to afford you a
hearing on such a writ without first hearing from the other party.”
The Judge stared at Larkin. Time passed, but Larkin could not tell
how long, only that it lasted. “I just placed my gavel securely
between you and the criminal justice system so you can get five
minutes of time on that stand. This Court has been lenient enough.
You have the floor.”

Larkin nodded. He had knocked and Judge
Wexler had opened the courthouse door, but it ended there. No more
favors. He needed to make his case. “The petitioner calls Trevor
Meeks,” your Honor.

The crowd whispered on cue and the television
cameras panned the room. The door that Larkin had used to enter the
courtroom swung aside and Trevor strode into the room as if the
opening act had ended and the headliner had hit the stage. There
might as well have been a spotlight and theme music. He headed
toward the witness stand. If the room had not seemed like an
episode of Law and Order before, it did now. Trevor looked like a
recurring guest star. When he raised his hand to be sworn in, three
members of the audience raised their hands and waived back.

“Good to see you, Judge,” he said with the
slightest nod.

“Mr. Meeks,” said the Judge, “please answer
Mr. Monroe’s questions.”

Larkin began to circle his table, but Uncle
Sam’s strong grip forced him back into his chair. “Good Lord,” said
Larkin with an eye roll. He stared at the large hands at his
shoulders locking him in place. “Your Honor, may I approach the
witness?”

“So allowed,” said the Judge.

Larkin stood, unhindered by the U.S.
Marshal’s service, and approached the witness stand. “Please state
your name for the record.”

“Trevor Meeks.”

“Mr. Meeks, do you know me?”

“I would have to say that I do.” He looked
toward the nearest camera. “I cannot tell a lie.” He winked.

“How do you know me?”

“You’re my lawyer and my friend.” He again
looked to the camera. “I’ve found in my life that keeping your
friends close and your lawyer even closer is the best policy.”

“Objection, your Honor,” said Wendy. “This
witness is being evasive.”

“He’s my witness, Ms. McAdams,” said Larkin,
“why don’t you let me decide if he’s being evasive.”

“Shockingly that’s my decision,” said the
Judge. “Mr. Meeks,” called the Judge, “why don’t you just answer
the questions asked of you. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Of course, Judge,” said Trevor.

“Proceed, Mr. Monroe.”

“Thanks, Judge.” Wendy sat down but she
rested on the edge of her seat while her fingernails drummed
against the desktop. Larkin was going to need to keep his
questioning as proper as possible or she would be hopping up and
down all morning. “Mr. Meeks, do you recall driving with me just a
few days ago?”

“Objection,” said Wendy, “leading,
foundation.”

“I’ll rephrase,” said Larkin before the Judge
had a chance to chime in. “Mr. Meeks - -”

“Still here,” said Trevor.

“Do you own a car?”

“Yes.”

“Do you, on occasion ever give rides to
anyone?”

“Friends and family.”

“As my friend have you ever driven a car in
which I might be the passenger?”

“Sure have.”

“Do you recall such an incident occurring
recently?”

“Sure do.”

“Who else was in your car?”

Trevor nodded.  “Well, there was me,
you, and my daughter - -”

“Your daughter?” asked Larkin.

“Yes.  Ryan.  Ryan Meeks.”

Larkin rested his hands on one of the wooden
rails encircling the witness box.  “Was there anyone else in
the car besides me, you and your daughter?”

“Yes, sir.  A funny guy. 
Glasses.  Andre or Anthony or something.  Real head
case.  Sad, really.”

“Do you know where this person was
employed?”

“Yes, sir.  He works for the Supreme
Court.”  Trevor winked at the Judge.  “Of Virginia.”

“Do you remember having a conversation with
this individual?”

“Sure do.  But not a pleasant one, by
any means.”

“Do you remember anything else about this
Supreme Court of Virginia employee’s job?”

“Objection, hearsay,” said Wendy.

Larkin turned to the Judge.  “Your
Honor, I did not ask what this individual said, only if the witness
remembered anything further.”

The Judge’s forehead wrinkled.  “Oh,
hearsay,” she sighed. Her fingers rubbed a spot on the bridge of
her nose where the itch of hearsay might be scratched.   “I’ll
allow it,” she said after a moment.  “But there’s thin ice,
Mr. Monroe and there’s thin ice.  Be sure you know which
you’re on.  Please answer the question, Mr. Meeks.”