Mark Gimenez - Accused

"I don't."

"Then why was that detective on the network morning shows, calling her the Guilty Groupie?"

The D.A. sighed. " 'Cause Wilson's a prick, wants to be famous."

"That's unethical."

"Wanting to be famous?"

"Going on TV before trial, declaring the defendant guilty."

"He's a cop. That's what cops do."

"You think Wilson told Renee about the fingerprints? And the polygraph?"

"Renee's real friendly with the cops."

"I figured she'd be here."

The D.A. smiled. "I didn't release the arraignment date."

Just then the double doors behind them flew open, and reporters and cameramen surged forward, led by Renee Ramirez like a general leading her troops into battle. The D.A.'s smile faded.

"But I guess the judge did. Don't let her rattle you."

"I've been here before."

"And now you're here again."

"Find your leak, Rex. And plug it."

The D.A. went to the prosecution table but did not sit because a bailiff entered and called out, "All rise!" From a side door, Judge Shelby Morgan appeared. She stepped up to the bench, sat, and gazed upon her courtroom like a queen upon her subjects-or a model posing for the cameras. Rex hadn't exaggerated: she was the most attractive judge Scott had ever encountered. The recessed lights above the bench seemed specifically designed to cast her in the best light-and did. She had blonde hair and lean facial features that made Scott suspect the black robe concealed a fit body. The bailiff called the case: "State of Texas versus Rebecca Fenney. Arraignment."

"Please make your appearances," the judge said.

"Galveston County Criminal District Attorney Rex Truitt and Assistant Criminal District Attorney Theodore Newman for the state."

"A. Scott Fenney, Robert Herrin, and Karen Douglas of Fenney Herrin Douglas, Dallas, Texas, for the defendant."

"Mr. Truitt, would you please read the indictment?"

"Ted will."

The Assistant D.A. read: "In the name and by authority of the State of Texas…"

Ted Newman spoke in a monotone through the procedural parts of the indictment but put his drama club experience to use in the charging statement.

"… Rebecca Garrett Fenney, did then and there intentionally and knowingly cause the death of an individual, Trey Rawlins, by stabbing him with a knife, which act constitutes murder under section nineteen-point-zero-two of the Texas Penal Code. Against the peace and dignity of the State."

"Will the accused please rise?" the judge said.

The "accused." His ex-wife. The mother of his child. Accused of murder. Scott helped Rebecca to her feet. Her body trembled.

"You are the Rebecca Garrett Fenney named in the indictment?"

"Yes."

Her voice was almost a whisper.

"Ms. Fenney, how do you plead to the charge contained in the indictment?"

Thirteen years before, when this woman had stood next to him in a white wedding dress in a church and said, "I do," Scott would never have imagined that one day she would stand next to him in a white jail jumpsuit in a courtroom and say, "Not guilty."

"A plea of not guilty has been entered in the docket. Mr. Fenney, does your client demand a jury trial?"

"Yes, Your Honor. And the earliest available trial setting."

The judge flipped through her docket. "I have a setting available on July twentieth. Thirty-five days, Mr. Fenney-you sure you want that speedy of a trial?"

Thirty-five days. The clock was ticking on Rebecca Fenney's freedom.

"We'll take it."

Like booking a hotel at a popular resort.

"Will that work for the state, Mr. Truitt?"

"That'll work, Judge."

"Pretrial conference on July thirteenth, jury selection on July seventeenth, bail is denied. The defendant will be remanded to the custody of the Galveston County Sheriff pending trial."

" What? "

Rebecca clutched Scott. "No! I can't go back!"

The judge had fixed a glare on Scott. "Is that an objection, Mr. Fenney?"

"Yes, Your Honor, defense objects. The defendant presents no flight risk and no risk to herself or to the community. Judge, you can't deny bail."

"That federal judge in Houston did."

"What federal judge?"

"It was in the paper this morning, he denied bail to Sir Allen pending his trial."

"Who the hell's Sir Allen?"

"Allen Stanford, he's charged with running a seven-billion-dollar Ponzi scheme."

Scott remembered now. Nick Madden had mentioned him.

"What's that got to do with this case?"

"You said I can't deny bail. If he can, I can."

"Your Honor," the D.A. said, "I read the paper, too. Stanford had private jets at his disposal, he had homes and cash offshore, he had resided outside the U.S. most of the last decade, and he had dual U.S. and Antiguan citizenship. He was a true flight risk. I must agree with Mr. Fenney-there is no flight risk here."

Judge Morgan was not pleased. Her face flushed red and her jaws clenched tight, and Scott thought she might have a Serena moment, but the cameras prevented an injudicious outburst. She glared at the D.A., but he seemed unfazed.

"Fine," the judge said. "Bail is set at one million dollars."

"Your Honor," Scott said, "Ms. Fenney has no assets and cannot satisfy such an onerous bail. We ask that the defendant be released on her personal recognizance."

"PR on a murder charge? I don't think so, Mr. Fenney."

Without breaking eye contact with the judge, Scott reached out to Karen. She slapped a stack of documents in his hand. Scott gave a copy to the D.A. then walked over and handed a copy to the judge. Karen addressed the court from a sitting position.

"Your Honor, this is our brief on bail. The U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Stack v. Boyle in 1951 that bail is excessive in violation of the Bail Clause of the Eighth Amendment if set in an amount exceeding that necessary to ensure the defendant will show up for trial. The Court also ruled that-"

"Your Honor," the Assistant D.A. said, "the defendant is charged with a bloody brutal murder that shocked our community-"

The D.A. was reading the brief. Without looking up, he held up an open hand to his assistant. "Easy, Ted. This is about the law, not those cameras."

"Your Honor," Karen said, "the defendant has resided in Galveston County for almost two years and will continue to reside in the county."

"Not in that house, she won't. So where will she reside?"

"In a vacation house here on the Island. We'll give Mr. Truitt the address."

"If she has no assets, how is she affording that?"

"Your Honor," Scott said, "Ms. Fenney is residing with us. I am also her ex-husband. I rented a house for the summer to try this case. We're all living there, including Ms. Fenney's daughter. She's not going anywhere."

"And she agrees to wear a GPS-tracking ankle bracelet at all times and not to leave the Island," Karen said. "She will surrender her passport to the district attorney."

"Your Honor," the D.A. said, "Mr. Fenney has personally assured me that the defendant will present herself for trial. With the GPS monitor and the passport surrender, the state does not object to release on PR."

"I do. Two hundred fifty thousand. If you object to that bail, Mr. Fenney, you can file your brief with the federal court in Houston. My clerk will give you directions. I think we're done here. I want to see counsel in chambers."

She bolted off the bench and through the side door. She wasn't happy, but neither was Scott. The D.A. stepped over to him.

"You like her already, don't you?" To Karen: "Great brief. You should be a law professor… or better yet, move down here to the Island. I'll fire Ted and hire you."

The deputy sheriff stepped over and took Rebecca by her arm. Her eyes were wide with fear. She grabbed Scott's arm. The deputy tugged gently, but she did not release her grip.