Майкл Коннелли - The Law of Innocence

If my words had any impact on Warfield, she didn’t show it. She didn’t write anything down as she had during the earlier motion. She simply swiveled six inches in her high-backed, leather chair so that her gaze shifted from me to the prosecution table.

“Ms. Berg?” she said. “Would the state like to respond?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Berg said. “I promise to be more succinct than the defense. In fact, Mr. Haller made my argument for me. What we have done with the refiling of the case through grand jury indictment is firmly within the bounds of the law as well as something that happens routinely in this courthouse and courthouses across the country. It is not a do-over or a delay tactic. I am charged with seeking true justice for the victim of this cold-blooded murder. Through the grand jury and the presentation of evidence from the ongoing investigation, we have elected to upgrade the charges in the pursuit of justice.”

In my peripheral vision I saw Berg glance my way as she threw my own words back at me. I did not give her the satisfaction of a look back.

“Your Honor, the case against the defendant is strong and getting stronger as the investigation of this crime continues. That’s what the defendant knows, that is what he is trying to subvert: a search for truth with all the evidence on the table. It is his hope that by hurrying into trial, he can stop the mounting evidence from crushing him. That won’t happen, because the truth is inevitable. Thank you.”

The judge paused before speaking, possibly waiting to see whether I would stand to object or respond to Berg. She even swiveled her chair back toward me as if expecting it. But I held my ground. I had made my points and there was no need to restate them.

“This is a novel situation,” Warfield began. “It has been my experience as a judge — and as a defense attorney in a prior life — that it is the defendant who most often seeks delays, seemingly in an effort to put off the inevitable. But not in this case. And so the arguments today give me pause. Mr. Haller clearly wants this behind him — no matter the outcome. He also wants to be free to build his case.”

The judge swiveled toward Berg.

“On the other hand, the state gets only one shot at this,” she said. “There are no do-overs and therefore time to prepare is key. There are new charges in the case and the state bears the responsibility of being able to support those charges to a level far above the probable-cause threshold found by the grand jury. The burden of proof — proving guilt beyond a reasonable doubt — is just as heavy as the burden carried by the defense.”

The judge straightened her seat and leaned forward, clasping her hands together.

“The court is inclined in these matters to split the baby. And I will let the defense choose how that split is made. Mr. Haller, you decide. I will continue your bail with all the existing restrictions but you will waive your right to a speedy trial. Or I will revoke bail but refuse to change the case calendar, leaving the start of trial on this matter set for the eighteenth of February. How do you wish to proceed?”

Before I could stand and respond, Berg did.

“Your Honor,” she said urgently. “May I be heard?”

“No, Ms. Berg,” the judge said. “The court has heard all it needs to hear. Mr. Haller, will you make a choice, or would you like me to allow Ms. Berg to choose?”

I stood slowly.

“A moment, Your Honor?” I asked.

“Make it fast, Mr. Haller,” Warfield said. “I am in an uncomfortable position that I will not hold for long.”

I turned toward the railing behind the defense table and looked at my daughter. I signaled her closer and she slid forward on her seat, putting her hands on top of the rail. I leaned down and put my hands on top of hers.

“Hayley, I want this over with,” I whispered. “I didn’t do this and I think I can prove it. I want to go in February. You going to be okay with that?”

“Dad, it was so hard when they had you in jail before,” she whispered back. “Are you sure?”

“It’s like what you and your mother and I talked about. I’m free right now, but inside I feel like I’m still locked up as long as this is hanging over me. I need it to be over.”

“I know. But I worry.”

From behind me I heard the judge.

“Mr. Haller,” she said. “We are waiting.”

I kept my eyes on my daughter.

“It’s going to be all right,” I said.

I quickly leaned over the rail and kissed her on the forehead. I then glanced at Kendall and nodded. I could tell by the look of surprise on her face that she expected more, she expected to be consulted. That I had sought my daughter’s approval on this choice rather than hers might doom our relationship. But I did what I felt I had to do.

I turned back to the judge and announced my decision.

“Your Honor, I surrender myself to the court at this time,” I said. “And I will be ready to defend myself on the charges on February eighteenth as scheduled. I am innocent, Judge, and the faster I can get to a jury to prove it, the better.”

The judge nodded, seemingly not surprised but concerned by my decision.

“Very well, Mr. Haller,” she said.

She made it official with rulings from the bench, but not without a final objection from the prosecution.

“Your Honor,” Berg said. “The People ask that your ruling on the trial date be stayed while under review by the Second District Court of Appeal.”

Warfield looked at her for a long moment before replying. It is always a risky move to tell a judge you are appealing a ruling from the bench when you still have a whole trial before the same judge ahead of you. Judges are supposed to be impartial, but when you announce you are going to a higher court to complain that your lower court judge was in error, well, there are ways for that jurist to even the score down the line. A perfect example is what Judge Hagan did to me at my first appearance on this case. I had reversed him twice on appeal. He paid me back by slapping me with a $5 million bail. He all but winked and smiled at me when he did it. Berg was walking a similar line with Warfield now, and it looked like the judge was giving her a few seconds to reconsider.

But Berg waited her out.

“Ms. Berg, I’ll now give you a choice,” Warfield finally said. “I won’t stay the ruling on the six-eight-six motion without staying the ruling on Mr. Haller’s bail revocation. So if you want a stay while you appeal, then Mr. Haller remains free under the current bail arrangement until you get a ruling from the appellate court.”

The two women locked eyes for a tense five seconds before the prosecutor responded.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Berg said coldly. “The People withdraw the request for a stay.”

“Very well,” Warfield responded with just as much ice. “Then I think we are adjourned here.”

As the judge stood up, the deputies in the room moved toward me. I was going back to Twin Towers.

Friday, January 24

I was placed back in K-10, the high-power module at Twin Towers where they housed inmates on keep-away status. The only problem I had with this was that I wanted to be kept away from the jailers more than from the jailed. The investigation that had followed the eavesdropping scandal had put the mark on me and I knew the potential that the jail deputies would get back at me physically had increased exponentially.

Bishop was long gone and I needed new protection. In a way, I held auditions. I spoke to a handful of men in the module the morning after my arrival, attempting to learn whom I might be able to trust, who might have greater enmity for the hacks than I did. I settled on a guy named Carew, who was physically impressive and being held on a murder charge. I didn’t know the details of the case and didn’t ask for them. But I learned that he had private counsel and I knew that a murder defense cost serious money. I offered him four hundred a week to watch my back and settled the negotiation at five hundred delivered weekly to his attorney.