Jeff Sherratt - Guilty or Else

I sat in one of the tufted leather chairs facing his desk. “Nice sweater,” I said, glancing at the golf bag leaning against the wall in the corner.

“You’ve got four minutes left,” he replied with a hard look on his face. I figured he was still steamed over my inability to bring in the guilty plea.

“You give me what I want, and it won’t take that long,” I said.

“You let me down. We were friends. I trusted you, tossed you a bone, and you let me down.”

“I’ll get straight to the point, Bob. Something’s not right about the Rodriguez case. I’ve got thugs following me around. Rodriguez is a gardener, for chrissakes, not a mob boss. Who gives a damn about him? And, by the way, why’d you pressure me to get a guilty plea anyway?”

“Calm down, Jimmy. Nobody pressured you. I tried to help you out, give an old buddy a break. That’s all.”

“C’mon, Bob. You wanted a guilty plea for a reason, and you forced the deputy D.A. to go along with it.”

He rose from his chair. “Who are you to come busting in here, Christ almighty ?”

“I’ll tell you who I am,” I said, my voice rising. “I’m the patsy you conned into taking the case.”

He stood and looked at me for a moment. Then, before saying anything, he sat down again. “Are you going to calm down and listen to reason, or are you going to continue to make a fool of yourself?”

“Something around here smells and you know it.” I paused. “Tell me this, Bob. Are you protecting Welch?”

“That’s absurd. Welch didn’t kill the girl. He told me he was in love with her, dumb shmuck. But the cops had the killer, and Welch was running for re-election. The campaign couldn’t stand a scandal.”

“Welch wanted the case wrapped up nice and tight. Didn’t he?”

“Of course he wanted it wrapped up, wanted a conviction before the muckrakers and his political enemies tore into his hide and blew it all out of proportion.” He leaned back in his chair and studied my face. “Surely, you can understand his position, and mine as well. I’m up for reelection too, and I’m on Welch’s campaign committee, for chrissakes. But my obligation to the bench comes before politics. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Nothing wrong? You have a conflict, and Rodriguez got the shaft!”

“Whoa, slow down. Welch has an unimpeachable alibi, four hundred miles away at the time of the murder. I was with him in Sacramento at his fund-raising dinner. Everybody was there having a good time, great entertainment-Robert Goulet, and a comedian, Foster Brooks. The guy was hilarious, did a drunk routine.”

“I don’t care about the dinner or the show. I want to get to the bottom of this. Maybe Welch didn’t kill her, maybe he did; don’t ask me how. But I’m saying there are other factors to consider. I think the cops made a rush to judgment. Rodriguez was a very convenient fall guy.”

“Look, Jimmy, I went to law school and took the same courses you did. Even the one where we learned, ‘When you’re up a creek, lay the blame on someone else.’ It was called Reasonable Doubt 101. You’d better come up with something other than what you’re implying. No jury is going swallow a line of bull like that.”

“Yeah, what about the other class we took Don’t Frame an Innocent Man 101? You sleep through that class, Johnson?”

Johnson shook his head slowly. “You always were pigheaded, even when we worked together on the P.D.”

“I’m not being pig-headed. I just want-”

Johnson interrupted. “Shut up and listen to me.”

“I’m listening, but it better be good. Why am I being followed? I don’t like getting threats.”

He stood and walked around the room. He glanced at the photos on the wall, pictures of him shaking hands with politicians. He focused on the one with Governor Reagan for a couple of seconds before turning to me. “You’re in deep shit, Jimmy, but you wouldn’t listen. You had to be a big hero, didn’t you? You’re in over your head.”

“I know I am. I’ve never defended a murder case, but I’m going to give it all I got.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh?”

“Big players are involved. They mean business. They don’t want you messing where you don’t belong. You could get hurt.”

“What are you telling me? You’re going to throw this case because some bigwigs are leaning on you? My God , Johnson!”

“No! No, you got it all wrong. Rodriguez will get a fair trial. I’ll see to it. But, I’m just telling you what I overhead. Certain people don’t want you snooping in their private affairs. Stick to the facts. Don’t go on a fishing expedition.”

“Who are these guys?”

“They’re not Boy Scouts.”

“I don’t give a shit who they are. I’m going to defend Rodriguez to the best of my ability. And if it takes me places where these big players don’t want me to go…well, so be it.”

“Brave talk, Jimmy.” He shook his head again. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

It was ten-thirty when I arrived back at my office. The Buick sedan followed me at a discreet distance. I entered through the front, went straight to the back door, exited the office and walked to the rear parking lot. Moving back around the corner of the building, I spotted the sedan parked curbside about ten feet down the street pointed in my direction, but the guy in the Buick hadn’t spotted me. I doubled around the block and crept up behind the car.

On the back of my business card, I scribbled the license number. I rushed back to the office and hurried to my desk. Rita had left a note: “Went to the stationery store to get some legal forms!!!” She put three exclamation points and one of those smiley faces at the end of it. I wondered why the forms were important enough to rate three exclamation points. One exclamation point was nothing. She put exclamation points on the shopping list: Coffee! Paper towels! stuff like that. Two would be more of a big deal, something like my car insurance was overdue, but now three? Why were forms so important?

Rita would let me know when she returned. But first, I had to get a hold of Sol. I grabbed the receiver and punched in his office number.

“Is he around, Joyce?”

“He’s still at Del Mar, but I can get him a message.”

“I’ve got a plate number, need an ID.”

“No need to bother the boss, I can handle it. Won’t have the information until this afternoon. It’s almost eleven now. Our DMV contact would be out to lunch. He’ll run the plate when he gets back, around three.”

“Thanks. Call me when you get the name, okay?”

I leaned back in my chair, laced my hands behind my head, and put my feet on the desk. All I had to do now was wait until Joyce called back, then I’d find out who was following me. With a name and Sol’s help, I’d find out why.

The front door opened. “Jimmy, I’m back. I’ve got the forms.”

“What forms?”

“Discovery forms. I’m sure you want me to fill them out and file them with the D.A. as soon as possible.”

“For the Rodriguez case?”

“Well, duh .”

“Oh, yeah. I was just going to ask you to do that.”

Rita smiled and walked back to her desk. In a few minutes, the phone rang. She shouted from the other room, “Miss Allen’s on the line.”

“Hi, this is O’Brien.”

“Jimmy, I just received a call. Thought you might want to talk about it, but you probably already know what I’m referring to.”

Why would she call me? Is there something I should know? “Yeah, sure. I know what it’s about.”

“Do you want to discuss it? That is, if you know what I’m talking about.”

“Of course, I know.”