Майкл Коннелли - Law of Innocence

In the California courts, a felony charge can advance to trial only after a preliminary hearing in which evidence of probable cause for the arrest is presented to a judge and the defendant is ordered to trial. An alternative to the preliminary hearing is for the prosecution to present the case to a grand jury and ask for an indictment on the charge. That was what Berg had done in this case. The difference between the two procedures is that a preliminary hearing is held in open court, where the defense is allowed to question any witness who testifies in front of the judge, while a grand jury operates in secret.

“The grand jury is a perfectly valid option for the prosecution to choose,” Warfield said.

“And it prevents me from questioning my accusers,” I said. “Officer Milton was clearly wearing a body camera the night of my arrest, in keeping with LAPD regulations, and we have not been given that video. I also noted that there was a video camera in the police car, and we have not been given that video either.”

“Your Honor?” Dana Berg said. “The state objects to defense’s argument. He is turning a motion to suppress evidence in the case into a request for evidence. I’m confused.”

“So am I,” Warfield said. “Mr. Haller, I allowed you to defend yourself because you are an experienced lawyer, but you are sounding more and more like an amateur. Please stay on point.”

“Well, then, I, too, am confused, Your Honor,” I said. “I filed a legally sufficient motion to suppress the fruits of a warrantless search. Ms. Berg bears the burden of demonstrating the justification for the search. Yet I don’t see Officer Milton in the courtroom. So unless the prosecution is about to announce a concession, Ms. Berg is not ready to defend against the motion. Yet Ms. Berg acts as though she is outraged and as though I’m supposed to merely argue and be done with it.

“Judge, the point is, I request an evidentiary hearing and an opportunity to prepare for that hearing after receiving the discovery I am entitled to. I can’t properly and fully argue the motion to suppress, because the prosecution is violating the rules of discovery. I ask the court to table this for today, order the prosecution to fulfill its discovery obligations, and schedule a full evidentiary hearing on the motion at a time when witnesses, including Officer Milton, may appear.”

The judge looked at Berg.

“I know we have a discovery motion in Mr. Haller’s stack,” Warfield said, “but where are we on those items just mentioned? The video from the officer and the car. Those should have been turned over by now.”

“Judge,” Berg said. “We had technical issues with the transfer of—”

“Your Honor,” I roared, “they can’t be pulling this technical difficulty excuse! I was arrested five weeks ago today. My freedom is on the line here, and for them to say technical issues have delayed my due process rights is patently unfair. They are trying to keep me from getting to Milton. Plain and simple. They did it when they went to a grand jury instead of a prelim and they are doing it again here. I have not waived my right to a speedy trial and the prosecution is doing anything and everything it can to push me toward a delay.”

“Ms. Berg?” Warfield said. “Response to that?”

“Judge,” Berg said. “If the defendant would stop interrupting me before I even finish a sentence, he would have heard that we had —that’s past tense—technical difficulties, but they were cleared up and I have the videos from the officer’s car and body cam to give to the defendant today. Additionally, the state objects to any suggestion that it is dragging its feet or pressuring the defendant in any way to delay this case. We are ready to go, Your Honor. We are not interested in a delay.”

“Very well,” Warfield said. “Turn the videos over to the defense and we will—”

“Your Honor, point of order,” I said.

“What is it, Mr. Haller?” the judge said. “I’m losing my patience.”

“Counsel just referred to me as the defendant,” I said. “Yes, I am the accused in this case, but when I am arguing before the court, I am counsel for the defense and I request that the court direct Ms. Berg to refer to me properly.”

“You are talking about semantics, Mr. Haller,” Warfield said. “The court sees no need for such direction to the prosecution. You are the defendant. You are also the defense counsel. Same difference in this case.”

“Members of a jury might see the difference, Your Honor,” I said.

Warfield once again held her hand up like a traffic cop before Berg could voice an objection.

“No argument from the People is needed,” she said. “The defense request is denied. We are going to continue this motion to Thursday morning. Ms. Berg, I will expect you to have Officer Milton here to be questioned about the traffic stop of Mr. Haller. I will be happy to sign a subpoena to that effect if needed. But rest assured that if he does not appear, I’ll be inclined to grant the motion. Is that understood, Ms. Berg?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Berg said.

“Very well, let’s move on to the next motion,” Warfield said. “I have to leave the courthouse at eleven for an outside meeting. Let’s press on.”

“Your Honor, my co-counsel, Jennifer Aronson, will discuss the motion to compel discovery.”

Jennifer got up and approached the lectern. I went back to the defense table and we lightly touched arms as we passed each other.

“Go get ’em,” I whispered.

6

The perks I received as a pro se inmate extended to the detention center, where I was afforded space and time for daily meetings with my legal team. I set these meetings Monday through Friday at 3 p.m. whether or not there were issues or strategy to discuss. I needed the connection to the outside, if only for the mental health maintenance.

The meetings were a hardship for Cisco and Jennifer because they and their belongings were searched coming in and going out, and the rule was that the team had to be in place in the attorney-client room before I was even pulled from the module where I was housed. Everything in the jail moved at an indifferent pace set by the deputies running the show. The last thing afforded an inmate, even a pro se, was punctuality. It was the same reason my wake-ups were at 4 a.m. for a hearing six hours later and only four blocks away. These delays and harassments meant that they usually had to present themselves at the jail’s attorneys’ entrance at 2 p.m. so that I might see them for an hour beginning at 3 p.m.

The meeting that followed the court hearing was more important than a mental health hour. Judge Warfield had signed an order allowing Jennifer Aronson to bring a disc player into the jail for the legal-team conference so that I could view the videos that had finally been turned over by the prosecution.

I was late to the meeting because it had taken nearly four hours to bus me back from the courthouse to the jail. By the time they put me in the lawyer room, Jennifer and Cisco had been waiting nearly an hour.

“Sorry, guys,” I said as I was ushered in by a deputy. “I don’t control things around here.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” said Cisco.

It was the same setup as with the attorney room in the courthouse. They sat across from me. There was a camera that supposedly had no audio feed. The difference here was that I was allowed to use a pen when I was in the room to keep notes or handwrite motions to the court. I was not allowed to take a pen back to my cell because it could be used as a weapon, a pipe, or a source for tattoo ink. In fact, I was allowed a red-ink pen only, because it was considered an undesirable tattoo color should I somehow smuggle it back to my pod.