James Sheehan - The Mayor of Lexington Avenue

It took three weeks to get an all-day hearing set before Judge Wentwell. Tracey used the time to prepare. This motion was going to be a mini-trial. It had been three years since her last trial, a misdemeanor case that lasted half a day. She needed this hearing and she needed to win it, although she wasn’t quite sure why. The uncertainty bothered her. Confusion was not her forte. She always knew what she wanted and she made a plan to get it. Maybe it was Elena and that faded connection to her mother. Maybe it was Rudy himself, or perhaps her desire to be a lawyer for once rather than a businesswoman. She just didn’t know. All she knew was that something else was driving her this time besides the money, and it was driving her hard. She hoped the feeling didn’t last long.

There were no crowds outside the courthouse on the day of the hearing or inside the courtroom either. It wasn’t that nobody cared. The people of the barrio were behind Rudy one hundred percent, but they had to go to work. Kelly McDowell from the local affiliate in Vero Beach was standing on the courthouse steps with her camera crew wondering why in God’s name she had agreed to drive over from Vero for this. Tracey James was the only reason it was even remotely worthwhile. If she could get an interview with Tracey, maybe she could salvage something from the trip.

As for Tracey, Kelly McDowell was the last person she wanted to see. She never liked media attention when she faced the possibility of losing. But she knew she couldn’t duck Kelly so she planned on making the best of it.

Clay reached the courthouse before Tracey arrived. Kelly didn’t have to hunt him down for an interview. He practically grabbed the microphone from her. He was all smiles, tall and elegant in his charcoal gray suit-cocky and confident like a quarterback before the big game. Kelly smiled right along with him.

Not long after Clay went inside, Tracey arrived with Elena. Tracey’s gray suit over a light blue blouse was stunning and the picture of professionalism, but Elena actually outdid her in a conservative but tight-fitting navy blue dress she had purchased only the day before from the local thrift shop.

Despite her concerns, Tracey struck the perfect note when Kelly got to them. “How important is this hearing today?” Kelly asked, trying to lob the softball in a perfect arc so Tracey could smash it.

“It’s very important. We believe Detective Brume violated Rudy’s constitutional rights when he interrogated him. Rudy is a fine young man, but he has a mental incapacity. He’s slow. Not retarded, but slow. He was at a distinct disadvantage in this interrogation, which, by the way, was neither recorded nor videotaped. His mother, Elena, who is here with me had asked to be with her son during the interview to protect him, but her request was denied.” She hadn’t wanted the interview, but she had enough self-awareness to realize it was turning out to be a good one-like a dress rehearsal for how she wanted to present Rudy to the court. When she finished her statement, she didn’t wait for another question but took Elena by the arm and ushered her up the steps and into the courthouse.

Since witnesses were going to be providing sworn testimony and it was going to be more like a bench trial than a hearing, Judge Wentwell decided to hold the proceedings in the courtroom rather than chambers. He had another reason as well. This case was about a murder that had been reported extensively throughout the state. Even though public interest seemed to have waned in the time since the event, the judge felt that any hearing to suppress evidence in a case such as this should be held in open court with all its formalities.

Clay Evans noticed Elena as soon as she walked into the courtroom. She looked exquisite in that blue dress. Maybe I could agree to life imprisonment for a little action. The thought had barely flickered into consciousness before he reminded himself that his career was at stake in this case. Lust would definitely have to take a back seat for the time being. Tracey wasn’t looking too shabby herself, although he sensed the woman had a hard edge to her. Maybe he could impress her with his courtroom skills. God, he was feeling good today.

Once the lawyers were seated, the bailiff let the judge know everything was ready. At the appropriate moment, the judge knocked on the door three times, signaling the bailiff that he was ready. The bailiff then told everyone to rise and the judge entered the courtroom.

Judge Wentwell was a tall man, almost as tall as Clay, and ramrod straight, with a full head of white hair. Elena, who was seated in the spectators’ seats directly behind Tracey, felt for a moment like she was in church and the bishop had just come out to the altar. Rudy was not there. Tracey had told Elena it would be best if he were not in the courtroom. He didn’t need to hear what H.V. was going to say about him and Judge Wentwell didn’t need to see how handsome he was and how bright he appeared to be.

The Cobb County courthouse had only two courtrooms: the small one for county court cases, misdemeanors and arraignments; and the large one, Judge Wentwell’s court, which handled all the major civil trials and felony cases. It was a cavernous old room with rows of oak benches for the spectators, even a balcony. The judge ruled from an elevated mahogany dais. The witness chair was to his right and below him. The jurors’ chairs, which were empty on this day, were to the right of the witness. The lawyers’ tables were front and center where the judge could look down on them without turning a lick.

“Counsel, are we ready to proceed?” Judge Wentwell asked after everybody had been seated. Clay popped up.

“The state is ready, Your Honor,” he said briskly.

Tracey was a little more deliberate. “The defense is ready, Your Honor.”

“Ms. James, since it is your motion, you may proceed.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. The defense calls Detective Wesley Brume to the stand.” The bailiff left to retrieve Wes from the witness room.

Calling Wes was no surprise to Clay. Tracey had to lay the facts of the interview out and Wes was the only person to do it since Rudy would not be testifying. What Clay didn’t know was that Tracey would be playing a little Ping-Pong that morning using Wesley Brume as the ball.

She started politely asking him to tell the judge his name and how long he’d been a police officer and the different positions he had held in the police department. She had no idea the judge already knew Wes quite well. Many years before, Wes had pulled the judge over for speeding, something Judge Wentwell never did.

“Going to a fire or something?” Wes had asked the distinguished jurist as he walked up to the driver’s side window. “Whaddya think, the law doesn’t apply to you? A few days in the slammer will straighten you out. Come on, let’s see your license and registration.” It was the usual banter he delivered to everyone-it made him feel good and made the routine of chasing speeders more enjoyable. The judge handed Wes his license without looking up. People had been coming into his courtroom for years claiming that they hadn’t been speeding and that they had been treated quite rudely by Officer Wesley Brume, exactly what he had just experienced and exactly what Wesley Brume had denied every time. Wes read the name on the license and knew he was in deep shit. He thought about backtracking, pretending he knew it was the judge all along, but the look of guilt on his pudgy face had already betrayed him.

“Hi, Judge, how are you?” was all he could muster.

“Fine, Officer Brume. Finish with your ticket.”

“On second thought, Judge, I think I stopped the wrong car. It was the one in front of you.” There had been no car in front of Judge Wentwell and they both knew it. The old man glared at Wes and drove off.