Stephen Cannell - Runaway Heart

"It's not possible, because there isn't anything or anyone called Charles Chimera. This hybrid animal doesn't exist and Mr. Strockmire has no proof that it does," Amato said.

"Your Honor, I'm prepared to put on a genetic expert, Dr. Carolyn Adjemenian, who will testify that this gene map could not be reverse-engineered."

"And we will put on ten experts who will explain how it can be reverse-engineered," Amato shot back. "This map of base pairs is nothing but a puzzle designed in a computer. There is no chimera, or whatever. Counsel can't prove there is! If he could, you'd see it sitting there."

Herman stood and handed up a discovery motion. "Your Honor, the gene map speaks for itself, but if Mr. Amato wants the real thing, the chimeras are currently being held and experimented on at the Ten-Eyck reservation out by Indio. They're being trained out there to be soldiers by an agency of the federal government. I want this court to grant this discovery motion to allow us to go out there and see for ourselves."

"A fishing expedition? Is that what this has finally turned into?" Amato said. "Perhaps we should also go looking for Big-foot."

"No," Herman shot back. "It's not a fishing expedition, it's a discovery motion, a document whereby you, sir, are ordered to produce the hybrid animals in question."

"Your Honor, I resent that and object. Moreover, if counsel is making a discovery motion, the defense has not been given proper notice."

Warren Krookshank had his glasses back on and was looking at the motion, flipping pages. Then the judge looked up from the document. "As to the lack of notice, in the interest of time I'll consider this motion now and give Mr. Amato a chance to submit opposition in a minute, if I think it warranted.

The drones on the defense team were huddled over the motion, reading fast.

"This discovery motion seems in order, Mr. Amato. I don't think I'll need anything further from you." Krookshank announced.

"Except for one thing, Your Honor." Amato wasn't out of it

yet.

"And what's that?" Krookshank said, looking up.

"It's an Indian reservation, and as such is not covered by the discovery requests of this court. As you know, tribal lands are sovereign territories much like foreign embassies, and therefore are not subject to U.S. federal laws or rules of evidence. Anticipating this move by Mr. Strockmire, I have already talked to the Ten-Eyck Tribal Administrator, who has informed me that it is their long-standing policy to deny legal summonses and motions with regard to the reservation. With that in mind, we are objecting to this discovery motion under Apache Nation v. the Office of Indian Affairs, U.S.A. v. the Chippewah Nation, U.S.A. v. the Seminole Nation, et al. The list is extensive, Your Honor. Lengthy precedent exists here. This is an old burial ground of legal arguments excuse the pun."

"Your Honor, I would like to call a witness who I think can clarify this matter for all of us," Herman said.

"And who is that?" Judge Krookshank asked.

"Russell Ibanazi, chief of the Ten-Eyck tribe. He has pertinent testimony regarding the issue counsel raises."

"Your Honor, Chief Ibanazi has no position with regard to this land. He doesn't even live on the reservation. The Tribal Administrator is a man named Scott Nichols. He and he alone is in charge of Ten-Eyck tribal affairs on the reservation. I have his prepared affidavit here denying access."

"Your Honor, Scott Nichols is no longer "

"Just a minute. Let me review this affidavit first," Krookshank said as Amato handed up his paperwork. Judge Krookshank readjusted his glasses and began to read. Herman didn't bother to read it because he already knew it was irrelevant. "Counsel seems to have a point," Krookshank said after shooting through the document. He removed his glasses and looked at Herman.

"Your Honor, may I please call Russell Ibanazi? I promise he can clarify all of this for you."

"All right, call your witness," Krookshank said.

"Objection."

"Overruled."

"The plaintiff calls Russell Ibanazi," Herman announced.

The bailiff opened the door and Izzy strode into court. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, starched white shirt, with a black-and-red tie and matching pocket square. His black hair glistened. Jack thought he looked better than Wayne Newton on Hollywood Squares. Izzy took the stand and was sworn in.

Herman moved toward him. "Mr. Ibanazi, could you tell us your position with respect to the Ten-Eyck tribe?"

"I am the chief. My male ancestors have held that position for almost two hundred years."

"I see. And who is currently in charge of tribal affairs at the Ten-Eyck reservation?" Herman asked.

I am.

"Objection, Your Honor," Amato said. "This statement is clearly in conflict with the affidavit I just submitted, which confirms that Scott Nichols is the Tribal Administrator."

"Was the Tribal Administrator," Herman said. "He was voted out of his job last night by the entire Ten-Eyck tribe."

Herman stepped forward. "I have here a copy of the Ten-Eyck tribal laws, which provide that the Tribal Administrator may be replaced at any time by a majority vote of the Tribal Council. I also have a notarized record of that vote, which was taken at ten thirty-five last night." Herman opened a folder and removed the notarized records, then dealt out copies like a blackjack dealer.

"Your Honor, the Ten-Eyck tribe has entered into a binding contract with the U.S. government to lease that land," Amato persisted. "This vote is in violation of the government's lease agreement." He was scanning the document.

"Counsel?" Krookshank said looking over at Herman.

"Didn't Mr. Amato just say that reservation land was sovereign and not subject to the jurisdiction of the American courts? Didn't we just hear that?" Herman crowed.

"I believe we did," Krookshank was smiling slightly.

"Then I think if he wants to argue that one he needs to file a breach-of-contract suit and see if he can get some civil court to overrule the long-standing list of decisions he just provided us with."

Herman held up Amato's list of Vs.

"I agree," Krookshank said. "Proceed, counselor."

"Chief Ibanazi, I'm going to show you a discovery motion and ask if you have any objections to the court making a trip out to your reservation to see if Charles Chimera and these five John Doe chimeras can be located?" Herman said.

"Absolutely no problem," Izzy responded. "You're all invited."

Judge Krookshank looked at his watch. "In the interest of preserving the evidence, how 'bout three this afternoon? I'll have the marshal arrange for some vans." He banged his gavel. "This court stands in recess."

While everybody else waited for three o'clock and

the vans, Jack Wirta took a taxi over to Cedars-Sinai to see Casimiro Roca. As the cab driver bounced through a construction zone south of Pico, Jack's head felt like sun-rotted fruit about to explode. He silently cursed everybody, especially his driver, who was a Greek. The name on the hack license looked like it belonged on the Rosetta Stone.

"Slow down," he growled to the man who replied "Hokay," but didn't.

When they arrived at the main entrance of Cedars, Jack felt like he'd gone ten rounds with Lennox Lewis.

After a few minutes of wandering the polished, antiseptic halls of the hospital he finally found himself outside of Miro's door. He pushed it open and discovered the little ex-dancer reading The Advocate.

When he looked up, Jack winced… Miro's face had gone half purple with bruises. His swollen eyes were greased with some kind of ointment and, as Susan had said, he'd lost several teeth.

Jack moved into the room and sat next to the bed on an institutional metal chair that sagged in the middle. He tried to ignore his own symphony of aches and pains as he focussed on Miro's damaged face.