John Lescroart - Nothing But The Truth

Suddenly, out of nowhere, with his mind vacant and receptive, he came to understand precisely what Frannie had meant by her last cryptic, challenging remark. Hardy had been telling her he’d listen to her. They’d work things out. He’d try to care more about what she did, what she cared about. So she’d heard him out and turned at the door, telling him OK, this is what is truly important to me.

Fish or cut bait.

‘Your honor, if I may.’

J. Marian Braun looked up from her desk in her chambers. She wore wire-rimmed half-glasses under a barely controlled riot of gray hair and made no effort at all to conceal her displeasure at the interruption, or at the identity of the caller. ‘You may not. I’m at lunch. I’ll be back at my bench in forty-five minutes, counsellor. Talk to my clerk.’

Hardy didn’t budge. He was taking a chance, but felt he had no choice. ‘Your honor. Please. Time is short.’

Her scowl deepened. The mayor’s outrageous effrontery and reprimand, the DA’s arrogance and political posturing – all of this before she’d finished her morning coffee – still galled her deeply. To say nothing of the potential legal ramifications to which she’d exposed herself by allowing the mayor to bully her into staying for the duration of his meeting. She’d committed a serious ethical breach in this Frannie Hardy matter, and could only hope it wouldn’t come back to bite her.

And now here was the damn woman’s own husband, no doubt wanting more ex parte communication. Well, at least here was someone far beneath her on the pecking order. She could chew him up and spit him out with impunity and probably feel a little better after she did. If they were all trying to double-team her to subvert her ruling, she would pick them off one by one, starting with this meddling lawyer.

‘Time is short, Mr Hardy. You’re damn right. What do you want? And I’d better not hear one word of whining about the situation your wife put herself in.’ She ostentatiously consulted her wristwatch. ‘You have three minutes and I’m counting.’

Hardy wanted to strangle Marian Braun where she sat. At the very least he longed to try to make her understand the staggering difficulties to which she had subjected his entire family. But neither of those served his purpose here this morning. This would remain impersonal, a legal matter, nothing more.

He moved forward rapidly, placed his briefcase on the chair before her desk, and opened it. ‘I have here,’ he said, ‘a writ for a habeas hearing on my wife. I’d like you to grant an alternative writ for tomorrow morning.’

The frown remained, but Braun laughed harshly through it. ‘Are you joking? What are you doing here with that? If you’ve got grounds to vacate the contempt, submit your motion in the normal fashion.’

‘Your honor…’

The judge wasn’t listening. ‘And assuming you had grounds for this writ at all, do you expect the DA’s office to answer by tomorrow morning? What do you hope to accomplish by this?’

‘Quash the contempt charge before the grand jury.’

The judge drummed her pencil against the desktop. She observed him over the tops of her glasses. ‘I admire your nerve, Mr Hardy, although I can’t say the same for your wife’s.’

Hardy nearly had to bite his tongue off, but he wasn’t going to get drawn into a discussion about Frannie. ‘I am specifically not addressing the judicial contempt, your honor. No one is arguing that. Only the grand jury citation.’

‘Well, there’s a rare and welcome display of good judgment.’ She drew Hardy’s piece of paper over to her, scanned it quickly, and repeated her initial response. ‘You don’t say she’ll talk and you don’t say why she doesn’t have to. All you say is it would be nice to let her go. This belongs with the DA. They make this decision, not me.’ She pushed the paper back over to him. He was dismissed.

But he didn’t move. Braun glared up at him, and pushed the document another time. ‘I’m going to lose my temper if you don’t…’

‘I don’t trust the DA,’ Hardy said. ‘I can’t take it there.’

Braun’s eyes narrowed.

Hardy pressed on. ‘It’s been my experience that this particular administration will take a convenient position in their offices, and when it’s on the record, suddenly it changes. In this case, they’ve abused the grand jury process-’

‘That’s a strong charge. How have they done that?’

‘Your honor, with all respect, you know as well as I do. The grand jury is a prosecutor’s tool. But it’s not supposed to be a blunt instrument.’

‘And that means?’

‘It means Scott Randall’s trying to make a high-profile case out of whole cloth and he’s using my wife to do it. How many times did you see his name in the paper this weekend?’

‘Not flatteringly.’

‘What does he care? In six months it’s all forgotten except the name recognition.’ Hardy was surprised Braun had let him argue even this much – he must have struck a chord with her. She knew that this DA’s administration had mostly a political, not a legal, agenda. As a judge, she’d no doubt run across her own examples of dishonesty and sleaze. Hardy played another variation on this theme.

‘Your honor, we’d all like to believe the DA is going to do the right thing. But even if they were convinced this wasn’t going anywhere with Ron Beaumont, there are folks down the Hall who would leave my wife in jail just to prove that they can.’

‘Except my understanding is that Ron Beaumont is likely to be indicted.’

‘If he is, there won’t be enough evidence to bring him to trial.’

Braun had just about reached her limit. ‘Well, that’s the system, Mr Hardy. Get used to it.’

‘The system’s broken, your honor. If they’re going to keep my wife in jail, at least make them do it out in the open.’

Braun put her elbows on her desk. ‘You know, Mr Hardy, this morning I had the mayor himself try to circumvent the judicial process. I’m tired of people who want to keep making this stuff up as they go along.’ She straightened up, pushing the paper away from her a last time. ‘You got your pitch; take it to the DA. Your three minutes are up.’

Hardy had one last shot and he hadn’t wanted to take it unless there was no alternative. But now he’d gotten to that. Still, it was a tremendous gamble. If it didn’t succeed, the consequences would be devastating to his credibility, to his entire career. ‘What if I can produce Beaumont at the hearing?’

Braun stared at him. ‘I’d understood he’d fled.’

Hardy elected not to answer directly. ‘Scott Randall doesn’t have anything, your honor. He jailed my wife to save his own face. If he’s got a case, let him make it in open court if he can.’

‘You’re telling me Ron Beaumont will testify at this habeas hearing tomorrow?’

Hardy nodded. His heart was stuck in his throat. ‘If he’s not in the courtroom, there’s no hearing.’

He saw her wrestling with it. Braun had a temper, and he was personally enraged at what she’d done to Frannie. But like most Superior Court judges, she prided herself on her basic sense of fairness. Hardy counted on that now.

It was no secret that this particular DA administration systematically abused the grand jury process. Finally, because of Scott Randall’s arrogance and grandstanding, Braun herself had just been squeezed and humiliatingly dressed down by the mayor.

She peered over her glasses, her mouth a grim pencil stroke. ‘I want you to understand that if I wasn’t so pissed off at your wife, I wouldn’t give you this hearing. But I’m not supposed to let my personal feelings get in the way, and if I don’t give you this hearing, I’m not going to be sure it wasn’t personal.’