Michael Connelly - The Reversal

I nodded. But the problem was that any sentence over a year had to be served in a state prison. The county system was a holding system for those awaiting trial or sentenced to short terms.

“Okay, then I guess we go to trial.”

“I guess we do.”

“Sit tight. They’ll be coming back for you soon.”

I knocked quietly on the courtroom door and the deputy opened it. Court was in session and Judge Champagne was holding a status conference on another case. I saw my prosecutor sitting against the rail and went over to confer. This was the first case I’d had with Philip Hellman and I had found him to be extremely reasonable. I decided to test the limits of that reason one last time.

“So, Mickey, I hear we are now colleagues,” he said with a smile.

“Temporarily,” I said. “I don’t plan to make it a career.”

“Good, I don’t need the competition. So what are we going to do here?”

“I think we are going to put it over one more time.”

“Mickey, come on, I’ve been very generous. I can’t keep-”

“No, you’re right. You’ve been completely generous, Phil, and I appreciate that. My client appreciates that. It’s just that he can’t take a deal because anything that puts him in a state prison is a death penalty. We both know that the Crips will get him.”

“First of all, I don’t know that. And second of all, if that’s what he thinks, then maybe he shouldn’t have tried to rip off the Crips and shoot one of their guys.”

I nodded in agreement.

“That’s a good point but my client maintains it was self-defense. Your vic drew first. So I guess we go to trial and you’ve got to ask a jury for justice for a victim who doesn’t want it. Who will testify only if you force him to and will then claim he doesn’t remember shit.”

“Maybe he doesn’t. He did get shot, after all.”

“Yeah, and maybe the jury will buy that, especially when I bring out his pedigree. I’ll ask him what he does for a living for starters. According to what Cisco, my investigator, has found out, he’s been selling drugs since he was twelve years old and his mother put him on the street.”

“Mickey, we’ve already been down this road. What do you want? I’m getting ready to just say fuck it, let’s go to trial.”

“What do I want? I want to make sure you don’t fuck up the start of your brilliant career.”

“What?”

“Look, man, you are a young prosecutor. Remember what you just said about not wanting the competition? Well, another thing you don’t want is to risk putting a loss on your ledger. Not this early in the game. You just want this to go away. So here’s what I want. A year in County and restitution. You can name your price on restitution.”

“Are you kidding me?”

He said it too loud and drew a look from the judge. He then spoke very quietly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Not really. It’s a good solution when you think about it, Phil. It works for everybody.”

“Yeah, and what’s Judge Judy going to say when I present this? The victim is in a wheelchair for life. She won’t sign off on this.”

“We ask to go back to chambers and we both sell it to her. We tell her that Montgomery wants to go to trial and claim self-defense and that the state has real reservations because of the victim’s lack of cooperation and status as a high-ranking member of a criminal organization. She was a prosecutor before she was a judge. She’ll understand this. And she’ll probably have more sympathy for Montgomery than she does for your drug-dealing victim.”

Hellman thought for a long moment. The hearing before Champagne ended and she instructed the courtroom deputy to bring Montgomery out. It was the last case of the day.

“Now or never, Phil,” I prompted.

“Okay, let’s do it,” he finally said.

Hellman stood up and moved to the prosecution table.

“Your Honor,” he intoned, “before we bring the defendant out, could counsel discuss this case in chambers?”

Champagne, a veteran judge who had seen everything at least three times, creased her brow.

“On the record, gentlemen?”

“That’s probably not necessary,” Hellman said. “We would like to discuss the terms of a disposition in the case.”

“Then by all means. Let’s go.”

The judge stepped down from the bench and headed back toward her chambers. Hellman and I started to follow. As we got to the gate next to the clerk’s pod, I leaned forward to whisper to the young prosecutor.

“Montgomery gets credit for time served, right?”

Hellman stopped in his tracks and turned back to me.

“You’ve got to be-”

“Just kidding,” I quickly said.

I held my hands up in surrender. Hellman frowned and then turned back around and headed toward the judge’s chambers. I had thought it was worth a try.

Ten

Thursday, February 18, 7:18 A.M .

It was a silent breakfast. Madeline Bosch poked at her cereal with her spoon but managed to put very little of it into her stomach. Bosch knew that his daughter wasn’t upset because he was going away for the night. And she wasn’t upset because she wasn’t going. He believed she had come to enjoy the breaks his infrequent travels gave her. The reason she was upset was the arrangements he had made for her care while he was gone. She was fourteen going on twenty-four and her first choice would have been to simply be left alone to fend for herself. Her second choice would have been to stay with her best friend up the street, and her last choice would have been to have Mrs. Bambrough from the school stay at the house with her.

Bosch knew she was perfectly capable of fending for herself but he wasn’t there yet. They had been living together for only a few months and it had been only those few months since she had lost her mother. He just wasn’t ready to turn her loose, no matter how fervently she insisted she was ready.

He finally put down his spoon and spoke.

“Look, Maddie, it’s a school night and last time when you stayed with Rory you both stayed up all night, slept through most of your classes and had your parents and all your teachers mad at both of you.”

“I told you we wouldn’t do that again.”

“I just think we need to wait on that a little bit. I’ll tell Mrs. Bambrough that it’s all right if Rory comes over, just not till midnight. You guys can do your homework together or something.”

“Like she’s really going to want to come here when I’m being watched by the assistant principal. Thanks for that, Dad.”

Bosch had to concentrate on not laughing. This issue seemed so simple compared with what she had faced in October after coming to live with him. She still had regular therapy sessions and they seemed to go a long way toward helping her cope with her mother’s death. Bosch would take a dispute over child care over those other deeper issues any day.

He checked his watch. It was time to go.

“If you’re done playing with your food you can put your bowl in the sink. We have to get going.”

“ Finished, Dad. You should use the correct word.”

“Sorry about that. Are you finished playing with your cereal?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

He got up from the table and went back to his room to grab his overnight bag off the bed. He was traveling light, expecting the trip to last one night at the most. If they got lucky, they might even catch a late flight home tonight.

When he came back out, Maddie was standing by the door, her backpack over one shoulder.

“Ready?”

“No, I’m just standing here for my health.”

He walked up to her and kissed the top of her head before she could move away from him. She tried, though.