Perri O'Shaughnessy - Unfit to Practice

Now, from the hot seat, Nina began to see why. Salaried employees of the not-very-large entity, Gayle Nolan and Hugo Brock were coworkers. Their motivations should be radically different, exemplifying the enormous gap between judicial and enforcement branches, but in the end these two both represented the goals of the California State Bar.

And what were those goals? The president of the state bar had said in a speech Nina attended, “At the state bar, public protection is our number-one priority.”

This seemed a perversion to many California lawyers, who thought the state bar dues they paid each year should go to an organization with the number-one priority of supporting and encouraging them. When had the focus become weeding out the bad apples in the profession? Whatever happened to stabilizing the wobbly apples and protecting the ripe apples? How could the judge and the prosecutor work out of the same small, half-crippled system and not walk in lockstep?

As Nina whizzed through these thoughts, Gayle Nolan glanced back at her through designer glasses so enormous, so thick, so encrusted with decoration that the face behind them blurred. A blessing.

Her own eyes were bothering her, so she put on her horn-rims. With surgical fussiness, Jack wiped his glasses on his handkerchief, allowing not one mote of fuzz. Every single person in that courtroom was viewing the world through a layer of polymer or glass.

She looked down and discovered she was wringing her hands. She made an effort to sit still and betray nothing. Whatever she did, look scared or look calm, she felt that she looked guilty. Such are the thoughts of a defendant.

“Let’s start by, uh, clarifying the order of proof. I understand we have a change in the usual presentation, Counsel,” Judge Brock said.

Gayle Nolan stood up. “Yes, we do, Your Honor. As you know, this is a bifurcated hearing, with the first part presenting the culpability portion and the second part, mitigation. Right now we are just dealing with culpability. We have three sets of complaints here in three matters. Mr. McIntyre and I have agreed to put on each of the matters separately. I will put on the prosecution witnesses for Count One and Mr. McIntyre will cross-examine each witness and we will complete all the proof for that count before moving on to Count Two. If that is all right with the court.”

“So we will look at the Brandy Taylor matter first?”

“Right.”

“Actually,” Jack said, moving in to make his first impression, “we agreed to start with Officer Scholl, the officer who took the police report involving the stolen files. Her testimony relates to all the cases.”

“I was getting to that,” Nolan said. “That’s right, we will begin with Officer Scholl.” She clamped down on the words, as determined as a basketball player getting the ball back for her team.

“Sorry,” Jack said. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes within the first two minutes.” He smiled, but the judge and the prosecutor stuck to their poker faces.

“Fine,” Judge Brock said. “Are we ready, then?”

“Ready,” Nolan said.

“Ready, Your Honor.” Jack patted Nina’s hand.

“Call Officer Jean Scholl.” Officer Scholl hustled in. “Raise your right hand.” She swore to be truthful, then launched into a minor complaint about having to take the whole day off to be in San Francisco for this hearing. The uniform accentuated her strong build and handsome unadorned face. Setting her clipboard in her lap, she gave Nolan, who was standing, her full attention.

“Good morning. I’m Gayle Nolan, I represent the State Bar of California.”

“Good morning,” Scholl said.

Over the previous several months, Paul had uncovered some more interesting details about Officer Scholl. Early in her career, she had worked with Kevin Cruz. On one occasion, Scholl had been along for the ride when Kevin Cruz busted a group of three young men for cocaine possession with intent to sell. The bust netted Kevin his first and only promotion, but rumors flew.

The three young men were honors students from UC Davis up for a weekend of skiing. None had ever been arrested for drugs before. One was in the middle of writing a senior thesis on the effects of illegal drugs on brain function. One had already inherited more family money than an oil baron, and therefore had little to gain and a lot to lose from selling drugs. Nevertheless, they had all been convicted, thanks to the testimony of Cruz and Scholl.

Scholl was as biased as they come, and maybe more. Nina leaned forward and tried to catch her mood, which was all too easy.

“You are a patrol officer with the South Lake Tahoe Police Department?”

“For the last eight years I’ve worked with the Patrol Watch Unit. Lately, I’ve also been working in conjunction with the Detective Unit, assisting on burglaries and robberies and undertaking some traffic-case investigations. It’s a small department so I get involved in several types of police work.”

“On or about September seventh of last year, were you called to the scene of a reported auto theft?”

The officer consulted her clipboard. “The call came in at seven-fifty A.M. Officer Dave Matthias and I responded and arrived at 96 Kulow Street, a single-family residence in the Pioneer Tract, at eight-twenty-four A.M.”

“And were you met at the scene by anyone?”

“By the defendant there. Ms. Reilly.”

“You already knew Ms. Reilly?”

“She’s an attorney who does-did-a lot of criminal-defense work. Trying to get her clients out of things. I had her in traffic court several times.”

“You testify regularly in the South Lake Tahoe court, where the defendant practices law?”

“Just about every week. She’s only been around a couple of years, but she picked up quite a few defendants. She started showing up as defense counsel in some of the big felonies up at the lake, which surprised and upset some of the local attorneys, I can tell you. She pushed hard for the high-profile cases, getting her name in the paper to promote her business. Quite a few of my colleagues came into contact with her.”

All of a sudden, the humdrum opening questions and answers had flown into unfamiliar realms. Police officers always tried for at least a semblance of objectivity. She had never heard Scholl get opinionated like this. Jack wasn’t moving, so she shifted in her chair. He had warned her not to expect the usual rules of court.

“You had several chances to observe the defendant at work?”

“Right.”

“How would you describe her work?” Jack sat like a fleck of lint. They should be talking about the Bronco, not about how this cop liked being cross-examined by Nina in court!

She nudged him. Jack leaned over. “They can’t do this,” she said. He held up a hand to shush her and turned his attention back to Scholl.

“Well, I felt that she wasn’t-I guess you would say, systematic. She rushed in at the last minute. She showed up late once or twice, as a matter of fact. She would try anything to get her clients off. Tricks. She had a reputation.”

“Jack!”

He gave Nina a nod, nothing more.

“A reputation in the police department?”

“Yes.”

“And can you describe that reputation?”

“Everyone said she would do just about anything to get her clients off. She attacked the officers in court, gave us a hard time and made us go over each and every detail hoping to find something wrong. She was-well, fly-by-night, always looking for some jazzy way to slip by the facts.”

“Can you give the court any specific example of this irresponsibility?”

“Objection,” Jack said, finally jumping up like his nimble namesake. About time. None of this would have been admissible in the courts Nina knew. Jack had entered the game late, but he would put a stop to this ridiculous character-bashing.