Joel Goldman - Stone Cold

“Better than bein’ in her pocket. All she gonna do is smoke it.”

Alex raised her eyebrows. “Are you telling me that you were trying to stop your mother from using?”

“Why you look so surprised? She my mama, ain’t she? I jus’ ’bout had her clean ’fore they arrested me for killin’ Wilfred. No way she could stay off that shit wit’out me bein’ there to stop her. I was gone more’n six months till you got me off. Plenty of time for her to get back to her old ways. We was jus’ gettin’ started over again when Rossi show up.”

Alex sat back in her chair, the phone resting on her shoulder. Dwayne wasn’t the first client to tell her he’d been caught with dope that belonged to someone else. It was a drug dealer’s version of the squirrel-came-in-my-window-and-ate-my-homework excuse. Yet there was something about the way he told the story that made her believe him or, more to her amazement, want to believe him. Her mother had always told her that there was good inside every human being; you just had to know where to look. She wondered if Dwayne was hiding his goodness beneath the bodies of the Henderson family.

“Why’d you run from Rossi?”

“After the shit he pulled on me, it was run or throw down, and I wasn’t lookin’ for no trouble.”

“You mean you were ready to let bygones be bygones?”

He smiled. “Yeah. That’s me. I’m all about forgive and forget.”

Alex shook her head, staring at the floor, not saying anything.

“What you lookin’ at?” he asked.

She raised her head. “I’m waiting to see how deep the bullshit gets.”

Dwayne laughed. “See, that’s why I like you. That’s why you such a good lawyer.”

“Because I can recognize bullshit?”

“Nah. ’Cause you know what to do wit’ it.”

She couldn’t argue with the compliment. There were times when bullshit was all she had to work with.

“Thanks. You know the real reason you’re in here has nothing to do with the crack the cops found in your jeans.”

Dwayne leaned forward, his face less than an inch from the Plexiglas. “What you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“I’m talking about five dead bodies: Kyrie Chapman and the Jameer Henderson family. The good deed you did for your mother gave Rossi enough to hold you while he tries to nail you for their murders.”

Dwayne edged away from the glass, his face hardening. “Don’t know nuthin’ ’bout that shit.”

“Except you do know that they’re dead.”

“I hear them cops talkin’ ’bout it. That’s all,” he said, his lips barely moving.

“Then do yourself a favor. Don’t talk about it. With anybody. Your initial appearance is set for nine o’clock Monday morning. I’ll see you in court.”

Initial appearances were held in the courthouse annex next door to the Jackson County jail. The buildings adjoined each other, making it possible for sheriff’s deputies to walk inmates from their cells to the courtroom.

Conducted by associate circuit judges, first appearances were routine proceedings intended to inform defendants of the charges, appoint counsel to represent them if necessary, and set dates for arraignment.

Judge Noah Upton was presiding over the Monday morning docket that included Dwayne Reed’s case. He had spent the last year fighting a complaint filed by the prosecutor’s office before the Missouri Judicial Commission alleging that he should be removed from the bench because he didn’t meet the requirement that judges reside in the circuit in which they serve.

The resulting investigation focused on how many nights he spent at a house located outside the county. The beautiful, young, and restless ex-wife of an older, fat, and balding major contributor to Prosecuting Attorney Tommy Bradshaw’s last election campaign owned the house. Judge Upton, fit and forty, with blond hair, a chiseled chin, and beach-boy good looks, began spending the night there with the ex-wife well before she officially became the ex, courthouse gossip dubbing them Ken and Barbie. He fought back and won, embarrassing both Bradshaw and his supporter.

When the complaint was dismissed, Judge Upton announced from the bench that he harbored no ill will toward the prosecuting attorney or his staff and pledged that he would continue to be impartial in his handling of criminal cases. No one in the prosecutor’s office believed him. Every defense lawyer in town hoped they were right.

Dwayne Reed was one of a dozen shackled defendants seated in the jury box, the only time they were likely to see a courtroom from that vantage point. They would remain there until all of their cases were heard, rising when it was their turn. Alex nodded at him as she took her place in the row of chairs behind the defense counsel table, waiting for Dwayne’s case to be called.

Kalena Greene stood at the prosecutor’s table, sorting and stacking the files for the cases on the morning docket. Alex hadn’t seen her since Dwayne’s murder trial. Tommy Bradshaw had kept her on the sidelines, letting her learn by watching before he let her learn by doing.

Handling an initial appearance docket was the next step up from escorting witnesses into the courtroom. The rote nature of the proceedings made it almost impossible to screw up. All she had to do was state her appearance and wait for the judge to do the rest.

The first two cases went as planned. Judge Upton called the case name and number. Kalena Greene stated her appearance on behalf of the state. The judge read the charges. One of the defendants had counsel, the judge appointing the public defender’s office to represent the other. Dates were set for arraignments. The defendants sat down and their lawyers headed for Starbucks.

Alex moved to the defense counsel table as Judge Upton called the next case.

“State versus Dwayne Reed, case number 7325-12. Counsel, please state your appearances.”

“Kalena Greene for the state, Your Honor.”

“And Thomas Bradshaw.”

Bradshaw made his way from the back of the courtroom to the prosecutor’s table. Remembering his pledge of impartiality, Judge Upton smiled, but there was no mirth in his eyes.

“Welcome, Mr. Bradshaw,” the judge said. “It’s not often the prosecuting attorney favors us with an appearance on these matters.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. Happy to be here.”

Bradshaw was lying and they both knew it.

“Perhaps you were expecting Judge Malone to be handling this docket instead of me.”

“It was my understanding that this was Judge Malone’s docket.”

“Well, Judge Malone is ill, so I’m filling in for her. I assume you have no objection.”

“Of course not, Your Honor. None at all.”

They held each other’s gaze, Judge Upton gracious and nonchalant, Bradshaw relaxed and respectful. They were two professionals doing the people’s business, their show of cordiality a required facade for the knife fight in a dark alley they would have preferred.

Alex cleared her throat, interrupting their face-off.

“Alex Stone from the public defender’s office for Dwayne Reed.”

Judge Upton scanned the thin court file, frowning. “Ms. Stone, I don’t have a record of you being appointed to represent Mr. Reed.”

“Mr. Reed was arrested over the weekend, Your Honor. I was made aware of his arrest but haven’t had a chance to prepare the necessary motion for my appointment. I recently represented him in another matter and my office is satisfied that he remains indigent. I ask that you appoint me to represent him.”

“Any objection, Mr. Bradshaw?”

“None.”

“Very efficient of you, Counsel. So ordered.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

“The defendant is charged with possession of a controlled substance with intent to distribute, to wit, crack cocaine, a Class A felony.”