Jeff Sherratt - Detour to Murder

I figured I might still be able to catch Millie at Judge Balford’s courtroom. If she was available I’d offer to take her out for a bite. At lunch, I’d smile a lot and try to get her to lighten up on me. I’d patiently explain how my brilliant legal strategy had actually paid off as planned. Oh, I may have ruffled a few feathers along the line, but I’d won my client’s freedom. I’d tell her how I righted a twenty-nine-year miscarriage of justice. In the end that’s what counted. I don’t see how she could turn me down after my explanation and not put my name back on the list of lawyers eligible to be assigned court-appointed cases.

Millie picked up on the second ring. “Jimmy, I called your office. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“About lunch?”

“What do you mean, about lunch?”

“I thought we could grab a bite this afternoon. I know it’s a little late, but-”

“No, there’s no time for that. The judge wants to meet you in her chambers. Can you make it here today?”

“I guess so.”

“Hang on a sec.”

She put me on hold. Music played in my ear. Mantovani and his Orchestra, a thousand strings, playing a cover of the Beatles’ “Twist and Shout.” I wondered if the Beatles were pissed. I glanced at the gas station attendants working on my car while waiting for Millie to come back on the line. Maybe this was the break I’d been hoping for. Maybe Judge Balford heard about Roberts being released and wanted to make amends.

Millie came back on. “I checked with Judge Balford. Be here in an hour.”

Judge Balford, an attractive black woman in her late forties, sat at her desk, her head bent over a bowl of steaming soup as she inhaled the aroma swirling around her. It smelled great from where I stood. Minestrone, I thought.

She looked up. “Please be seated. I hope you don’t mind if I take my lunch while we have this discussion. With my schedule there’s no time to leave the building.”

“Not at all,” I said, sitting on the edge of a chair that faced her desk.

“Okay, we’ll get right to the point, and I’ll be frank. I wasn’t pleased with the phone call I received from Deputy Commissioner Schlereth regarding your deportment at the Roberts parole hearing.”

“I can explain, Your Honor. It was all part of my plan.” I glanced at Millie, sitting on the judge’s sofa with her legs crossed, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She shook her head. “You see, Judge, there was a miscarriage of-”

“Please let me finish,” Judge Balford said.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“As I started to say, in light of recent developments, I’ve decided to give you another chance. But let this be a warning; I’ll not tolerate any more of your shenanigans. You’ve crossed the line one too many times.” The judge paused and sipped a spoonful of soup.

I felt a sense of relief. I knew from the moment I woke up this morning that this was going to be my lucky day. She’s putting me back on the list .

“Thank you, Your Honor, from now on I’m-”

“I’m not finished.”

“Sorry.”

“I’ll have Millie assign arraignments to you, but because of Deputy Commissioner Schlereth’s displeasure, I can’t give you any more parole hearings.”

“But, Judge, I won my client’s freedom. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

Millie shot me a look that said, Shut your trap, take the reprimand, and maybe you’ll wind up with some clients again.

“No offense, Mr. O’Brien, but I don’t think it happened that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was informed by the District Attorney’s Office this morning that due to the chronic overcrowded conditions in our correctional facilities, they’ve been testing a new program. The authorities have been reviewing the status of long-time lifers. If the inmates meet certain criteria, they will be scheduled for conditional parole, or even commutation. The District Attorney, along with other State agencies, has been working on this for quite some time. Alexander Roberts was the first test case.”

“Really,” I said. “If they were going to let him go anyway, why’d the DA’s office bother to send Deputy DA Marshall out to Chino? He vigorously protested my client’s parole.”

“At the time of his hearing the governor hadn’t been advised of the program. The District Attorney couldn’t go forward with the program until he had been so informed. The program is still in the testing phase. Naturally, they wouldn’t want any publicity at this point.”

“Naturally.”

Judge Balford tore a hunk of bread from a baguette and started to butter it. “So you see, Mr. O’Brien, you had nothing to do with Mr. Roberts’s release. The decision to grant him a conditional commutation was made prior to your involvement.”

“I see.”

“And your ranting about a new trial, new evidence, and all that nonsense upset everyone so much that it almost killed Roberts’s involvement in the program. He would have remained in prison if Joe Rinehart hadn’t personally intervened on his behalf. Your client owes a debt of gratitude to Mr. Rinehart.”

I remained silent but thought, how the hell was I supposed to know there was a deal in the works? If you ask me, I’d been used, nothing but a patsy. And the judge expected me to sit here and take this crap?

“I… understand,” I finally said.

“However, all that said, I’m still going to instruct Millie to place your name back on the attorney list.”

“Thank you.”

The judge put her spoon down and looked me in the eye. “I’m going to give you one more chance. But remember, sir, you’re on probation. One misstep and you will be permanently removed. Do not test my forbearance, Mr. O’Brien.”

“I won’t let you down, Judge.”

“I certainly hope not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for court.”

Millie escorted me to the door. As I was about to leave, she whispered, “Call me later this afternoon, Jimmy. I have a case for you.”

Driving back to Downey Isat in traffic and fumed, reflecting on the meeting with Balford. Sure, I was upset at the judge, but I was mostly angry with myself. I’d sat in her chambers and said nothing, not a peep, while she kept giving me verbal body slams. But she really pissed me off when she said that Roberts owed Rinehart a debt of gratitude. Christ Almighty. After I’d busted my ass working on the case, that remark went way over the top. She banged that one totally out of the park, and I just sat there and took it. Owed the DA a debt of gratitude . Damn! But I knew better than to mouth off. I needed the business.

I walked into the office. Mabel sat at her desk thumbing a stack of bills.

“Hey, guess what,” I said. “I talked Balford into putting me on the list again. Finally things are going to get back to normal.”

She remained focused on the papers, sorting through them. “We gotta do better than that.”

I noticed the open door to Rita’s office. “Where’s Rita? I don’t hear any Sinatra music.”

Mabel leaned back in her chair. “That’s over, thank God. She’s got her feet back on the ground. Found out she’d rather listen to Grand Funk Railroad… Don’t ask.”

I winced.

“But anyway, she’s out working on a case. One of those high muckamucks she met at the Reagan dinner dropped in. Seems he has a nephew who lives here in Downey. The kid’s been using his parents’ home sauna to grow marijuana. She’s arranging bail for him now. And look at this.” She pulled a check from the drawer and waved it in the air. “A five-hundred dollar retainer.”

“Hey, the dinner paid off after all.”