A. Fair: All Grass Isn't Green

“To hell with the axioms of criminal law,” I said. “I’m talking about a particular case. This case. You let Calhoun be bound over and there will be headlines over the country.”

“We can’t control the press,” Newberry said. “We have a free press in this country. They can print the news any way they want to just so they confine themselves to truth.

“Now then, a feminine angle has been introduced in this case and, believe me, that’s going to give the newspapers a field day. MILLIONAIRE DEFENDANT IN SURREPTITIOUS MIDNIGHT RENDEZVOUS...”

I said to Calhoun, “Do you want to put on a defense?”

“I want to get out of this,” he said.

“It isn’t what Calhoun wants, it’s what I want,” Newberry said. “I’m the lawyer and I don’t brook any interference from a client. I’ll tell you right now, Lam, I don’t brook any interference from some smart-aleck private detective either.”

“I’m not a smart-aleck detective,” I told him. “I’m a damn good detective.”

Calhoun looked from one to the other.

“What do you want to do, Calhoun?” I asked. “Make up your mind.”

“I guess there’s nothing I can do,” Calhoun said. “Newberry has reached a decision.”

“And who is Newberry working for?”

“Why... I guess he’s working... he’s working for me.”

“I don’t work for anybody,” Newberry said. “I’m a professional man. I’m an attorney. I permit myself to be retained in cases. I go to court and I handle those cases my way. Make no mistake about it, my way .”

Calhoun shrugged his shoulders and looked helplessly at me.

I said, “You want my judgment, Calhoun? I think we can spring you out of this. In fact, I’m pretty damn sure we can.”

“I’ll bet a thousand to one against it,” Newberry said.

“I’ll take a hundred dollars of that right now,” I told him.

He said angrily, “I don’t want to make any actual bet I was just simply giving the odds. It wouldn’t do any good to make an actual bet because I’m going to stand up and tell the Court that we consent to an order binding the defendant over.”

I looked at Calhoun and said, “Fire him!”

“What?” Calhoun asked incredulously.

“Fire him!” I said.

Newberry looked at me and said, “Why, you smart-aleck son of a...”

I turned away from him and said to Calhoun, “He’s your lawyer. You fire him and do as I say and you’ll get out of this.”

“So you’re practicing law,” Newberry said.

“I’m telling Calhoun what to do. Calhoun can be his own attorney. You do what I tell you to, Calhoun, and we’ll be home free.”

Calhoun looked dubious.

The door from chambers opened and Judge Polk came in. The bailiff rapped the Court to order. We all stood up, then were seated.

“Very well,” Judge Polk said, “we will take up the case of People versus Calhoun. Is there any defense?”

“Fire him,” I said to Calhoun. “Now!”

Calhoun reached a sudden decision. He got to his feet and said, “Your Honor, I want to be my own lawyer.”

Judge Polk was startled. Roberts whirled around looked at us as though we had all taken leave of senses.

“You want to discharge your lawyer?” Judge P asked.

Newberry grabbed up his briefcase. “There’s no need to discharge me ,” he said. “I’m quitting the case.”

“Now, just a moment,” Judge Polk said. “You can’t quit the case without the consent of the Court.”

Newberry hesitated and said, “I don’t want anything of this client. I don’t want any part of him or of smart-aleck private detective.”

“Just control yourself,” Judge Polk said. “Mr. Calhoun, what seems to be the situation?”

“I want to put on a defense and I want to conduct own case,” Calhoun said.

“You want to discharge your lawyer?”

“I want to discharge him.”

Judge Polk looked at Newberry. “You want to withdraw from the case?”

“I withdraw from the case. I have withdrawn. I do withdraw. I don’t want any more to do with it.”

Judge Polk sighed. “Very well,” he said, “the order will be granted. The defendant will act for himself in propria persona .

“Now then, Mr. Calhoun, do you wish to put on another witness?”

“Call Colburn Hale,” I whispered.

Calhoun looked at me, then looked at the indignant back of Newberry who was stalking out of the courtroom.

“I’ll call Colburn Hale as my first witness,” he said.

While Colburn Hale came limping forward and held up his right hand as though his entire body hurt, Calhoun whispered, “What the devil do I ask him?”

“Sit down beside me,” I said, “and ask the questions as I feed them to you.”

I whispered to Calhoun, while Hale was giving his name, address and occupation to the clerk, “Make your questions as short as possible and encourage him to do the talking.

“Now, your first question is whether or not he ever saw the gun, People’s Exhibit B. Hand the gun to him and ask him if he ever saw it, and if he says, ‘Yes,’ ask him when was the last time he saw it. Encourage the guy to talk.”

Calhoun was as awkward as a man trying to water-ski for the first time. He floundered around and said to the clerk, “Please show this witness the gun and I want to ask him if he ever saw that gun before.”

“What is the object of this?” Judge Polk asked.

Calhoun looked at me.

I said, “We want to find out how the gun got into that field.”

Calhoun passed my comment on to the judge.

“Very well,” Judge. Polk said. “I think that is probably a legitimate part of the defense, since the prosecution has made a point of it. Let the witness answer the question.”

“I have seen the gun before,” Hale said.

“Where? How? When? And what happened to it? When did it leave his possession?” I asked Calhoun.

“When did you see it?”

“I saw it — well, I guess it was about the seventeenth.”

“How did you get it?”

“Nanncie Beaver gave it to me. She told me that—”

“Just a minute,” Roberts said. We object to any conversation between the witness and Nanncie Beaver.”

“Sustained,” Judge Polk said.

“When did you last have the gun?” Calhoun asked.

“I lost it on the evening of the nineteenth.”

“How did you lose it?”

“Puggy took it from me.”

Calhoun looked at me.

“Who’s Puggy?” I whispered to him.

“Who’s Puggy?” he asked. “Tell me all about it.”

Hale said, “I was on the track of this dope shipment. I had this gun. I was following the dope shipment up from San Felipe. I thought I was being smart.

“I didn’t know there was a tail car behind me. When we got almost to where the La Puerta road turns off, this tail car closed in on me and crowded me to the side the road. Then the pickup with the houseboat trail stopped.

“The man who was driving the tail car was evidently a pugilist, because the other guy called him Puggy started working me over. I tried to pull the gun on and the man from the dope car — I guess that was Ed Sutton — had me covered and said, ‘Get your hands up, or your brains will get smattered all over the side of your car.”’

I nudged Calhoun. “Tell him to go on.”

“Go on,” Calhoun said.

I whispered to Calhoun, “Every time he stops talking, just tell him, ‘Go on.’ ”

Calhoun nodded.

“Well,” Hale said, “they really worked me over. That’s where I got this shiner, and I got a bloody nose and a cut lip. There was blood all over my shirt and I was pretty much of a mess by the time they got done with me.”

“Go on,” Calhoun said.