Michael Connelly - The Reversal

“You won’t have to enter the charges. All you have to do is stand up and say that you believe Jessup is a flight risk and a danger to the community. He-”

“But I don’t believe he’s a flight risk. His lawyer just told me they’re ready to go and that they’re not interested in a disposition. He wants the money and the only way he’ll get it is to stick around and go to trial-and win.”

“So?”

She seemed astonished and looked down at the files stacked in front of her.

“Mags, your philosophy is to argue everything and give no quarter. I don’t think that’s going to work here. I have a strategy and-”

She turned and leaned in closer to me.

“Then I’ll just leave you and your strategy and your bald buddy from the defense bar to it.”

She pushed back her chair and got up, grabbing her briefcase from the floor.

“Maggie…”

She charged through the gate and headed toward the rear door of the courtroom. I watched her go, knowing that while I didn’t like the result, I had needed to set the lines of our prosecutorial relationship.

Jessup’s name was called and Royce identified himself for the record. I then stood and said the words I never expected I would say.

“Michael Haller for the People.”

Even Judge Firestone looked up from his perch, peering at me over a pair of reading glasses. Probably for the first time in weeks something out of the ordinary had occurred in his courtroom. A dyed-in-the-wool defense attorney had stood for the People.

“Well, gentlemen, this is an arraignment court and I have a note here saying you want to talk about bail.”

Jessup was charged twenty-four years ago with murder and abduction. When the supreme court reversed his conviction it did not throw out the charges. That had been left to the DA’s Office. So he still stood accused of the crimes and his not-guilty plea of twenty-four years ago remained in place. The case now had to be assigned to a courtroom and a judge for trial. A motion to discuss bail would usually be delayed until that point, except that Jessup, through Royce, was pushing the issue forward by coming to Firestone.

“Your Honor,” Royce said, “my client was already arraigned twenty-four years ago. What we would like to do today is discuss a motion for bail and to move this case along to trial. Mr. Jessup has waited a long time for his freedom and for justice. He has no intention of waiving his right to a speedy trial.”

I knew it was the move Royce would make, because it was the move I would have made. Every person accused of a crime is guaranteed a speedy trial. Most often trials are delayed at the defense’s request or acquiescence as both sides want time to prepare. As a pressure tactic, Royce was not going to suspend the speedy-trial statute. With a case and evidence twenty-four years old, not to mention a primary witness whose whereabouts were at the moment unknown, it was not only prudent but a no-brainer to put the prosecution on the clock. When the supreme court reversed the conviction, that clock started ticking. The People had sixty days from that point to bring Jessup to trial. Twelve of them had already gone by.

“I can move the case to the clerk for assignment,” Firestone said. “And I would prefer that the assigned judge handle the question of bail.”

Royce composed his thoughts for a moment before responding. In doing so he turned his body slightly so the cameras would have a better angle on him.

“Your Honor, my client has been falsely incarcerated for twenty-four years. And those aren’t just my words, that’s the opinion of the state supreme court. Now they have pulled him out of prison and brought him down here so he can face trial once again. This is all part of an ongoing scheme that has nothing to do with justice, and everything to do with money and politics. It’s about avoiding responsibility for corruptly taking a man’s freedom. To put this over until another hearing on another day would continue the travesty of justice that has beset Jason Jessup for more than two decades.”

“Very well.”

Firestone still seemed put out and annoyed. The assembly line had thrown a gear. He had a docket that had probably started with more than seventy-five names on it and a desire to get through them in time to get home for dinner before eight. Royce was going to slow things down immeasurably with his request for a full debate on whether Jessup should be allowed his release while awaiting trial. But Firestone, like Royce, was about to get the surprise of the day. If he didn’t make it home in time for dinner, it wouldn’t be because of me.

Royce asked the judge for an OR, meaning Jessup would have to put up no money as bail and simply be released on his own recognizance. This was just his opener. He fully expected there to be a financial figure attached to Jessup’s freedom, if he was successful at all. Murder suspects didn’t get OR’ed. In the rare instance when bail was granted in a murder case, it usually came with a steep price tag. Whether Jessup could raise the money through his supporters or from the book and movie deals he was supposedly negotiating was not germane to the discussion.

Royce closed his request by arguing that Jessup should not be considered a flight risk for the very same reason I had outlined to Maggie. He had no interest in running. His only interest was in fighting to clear his name after twenty-four years of wrongful imprisonment.

“Mr. Jessup has no other purpose at this time than to stay put and prove once and for all that he is innocent and that he has paid a nightmarish price for the mistakes and misconduct of this District Attorney’s Office.”

The whole time Royce spoke I watched Jessup in the glass cage. He knew the cameras were on him and he maintained a pose of rightful indignation. Despite his efforts, he could not disguise the anger and hate in his eyes. Twenty-four years in prison had made that permanent.

Firestone finished writing a note and then asked for my response. I stood and waited until the judge looked up at me.

“Go ahead, Mr. Haller,” he prompted.

“Judge, providing that Mr. Jessup can show documentation of residence, the state does not oppose bail at this time.”

Firestone stared at me for a long moment as he computed that my response was diametrically opposite to what he thought it would be. The hushed sounds of the courtroom seemed to get even lower as the impact of my response was understood by every lawyer in the room.

“Did I get that right, Mr. Haller?” Firestone said. “You are not objecting to an OR release in a murder case?”

“That is correct, Your Honor. We are fully expecting Mr. Jessup to show for trial. There’s no money in it for him if he doesn’t.”

“Your Honor!” Royce cried. “I object to Mr. Haller infecting the record with such prejudicial pap directed solely at the media in attendance. My client has no other purpose at this point than-”

“I understand, Mr. Royce,” Firestone interjected. “But I think you did a fair amount of playing to the cameras yourself. Let’s just leave it at that. Without objection from the prosecution, I am releasing Mr. Jessup on his own recognizance once he provides the clerk with documentation of residence. Mr. Jessup is not to leave Los Angeles County without permission of the court to which his case is assigned.”

Firestone then referred the case to the clerk of the court’s office for reassignment to another department for trial. We were now finally out of Judge Firestone’s orbit. He could restart the assembly line and get home for dinner. I picked up the files Maggie had left behind and left the table. Royce was back at the seat at the railing, dumping files into a leather briefcase. His young associate was helping him.