Samantha Geimer - The Girl - A Life in the Shadow of Roman Polanski

“No! No! No! I’m going to do what I told you I would, and I’m going to stick to it,” Judge Rittenband said. “No, I haven’t told the lawyers yet!”

Gunson and Dalton, sitting there with nothing to do, shifted awkwardly in their seats. They couldn’t hear what the judge was saying into the phone, and had no idea what was going on. Larry was flabbergasted. Rittenband was getting advice from a reporter? Why? It’s one thing to play to the media; it’s quite another to be played by the media. It was also clear to Larry that Rittenband and Farr were continuing a conversation begun at another time.

Judge Rittenband’s phone session went on for a half hour. The lawyers continued to sit and wait. The judge displayed no self-consciousness over what he was doing. If anything, he seemed to be showing off for the attorneys a little bit: These press guys, they can’t get enough of me! On top of that, he was more concerned about the reporter’s needs than the needs of the lawyers. “I’m not going to take it under advisement,” he said. “I’ll announce it from the bench tomorrow and you can meet your deadline.”

Larry could hear Farr’s voice, but couldn’t make out what he was telling the judge.

Louder now so that Gunson and Dalton could hear, Rittenband went on: “I’m not doing that because if I did that I’d be seriously criticized by everybody and I’m not going to be criticized for helping him.”

The dumbfounded lawyers looked at each other. Was he really having this conversation in front of them?

Fearing press criticism, Rittenband was changing course once again. The forty-two days were not enough. He decided instead he was going to give Polanski an indeterminate sentence. That means exactly what it sounds like: the duration of the sentence is not spelled out. It could be a week. It could be fifty years.

Seeing the incredulous looks on the attorneys’ faces, Rittenband hastened to reassure them: “Don’t be concerned about that,” he said. “I want people to think I’m a tough sentencer. So we’ll do this, and when the attention is off the case, you”—indicating Dalton—“petition for a change of sentence and I will sentence him to time served. I’ll put this forth tomorrow.”

They were stunned. Polanski had glowing probation reports. Rittenband had already agreed to time served. Then, with a little media heat and the tut-tutting of one reporter, the judge was changing his mind.

These days, anyone convicted of “unlawful sexual intercourse” could serve a maximum of four years (not that those convicted served nearly that much, even then; the sentence was generally six months or less). But back in 1978, a sentence of fifty years was theoretically possible. If the parties agreed to an indeterminate sentence, Roman Polanski could, at the judge’s whim, end up in jail for the rest of his life.

Dalton, Gunson, and Larry walked numbly to the courthouse coffee shop and ordered coffee. After a long silence, Dalton turned to Gunson and asked, “Should I trust him?” Gunson shot him a look. “Oh, I don’t see why not,” he said, dryly. “You trusted him before.”

Dalton looked tired. “I have a client who is sitting in my office waiting for me to let him know what happened. I better tell him.” He walked to the pay phone. He talked to his client.

As Polanski told the story later, there was one seat left on that afternoon’s British Airways flight to Heathrow. He bought it.

Jacksonville (Ill.) Courier

February 2, 1978

LONDON (AP): The London Evening News reported it located film director Roman Polanski at his Paris home following his flight from California to escape sentencing for having sexual relations with a 13-year-old girl. His extradition to the United States appears unlikely.

The Evening News said a manservant at Polanski’s residence in the French capital told its reporter: “Yes, Mr. Polanski arrived here this morning. He is very tired and is resting quietly. He’s not ill, just tired.”

The 44-year-old director of “Rosemary’s Baby” and “Chinatown” arrived at London’s Heathrow Airport Wednesday morning on a British airliner from Los Angeles, but reporters were unable to locate him afterward.

Scotland Yard said it was not looking for him.

“He has committed no crime in Britain, and as far as I know we have not received any message from America about him,” a spokesman for the Yard said.

Polanski is a French citizen, reportedly with homes in both London and Paris, and the prosecutor handling his case in California suggested he was headed for France, where he would be safe from extradition. Friends in Paris indicated they had talked with him in London but said they did not know what his plans were. French citizens cannot be extradited from France on any charge.

Polanski failed to appear for sentencing in Santa Monica, CA Wednesday. His lawyer, Douglas Dalton, announced in the packed courtroom: “I received a call from Mr. Polanski this morning advising me he would not be here…. I do not believe he is in the United States.”

Superior Court Judge Laurence J. Rittenband issued a bench warrant for the director’s arrest and granted Dalton’s request for time to try to persuade him to return. The judge scheduled another hearing February 14 where he could sentence Polanski in absentia.

Dalton said he would “use every effort” to have his client return by then….

On February 1, 1978—the day Polanski was supposed to appear in court and the judge was supposed to accept the plea bargain—there was a flurry of activity. Someone told Larry, “He isn’t here. He took off.” Larry went to Dalton and asked what was going on and Dalton, true to form, ignored him. Then Larry asked Gunson, who said, “Polanski skipped.” Larry asked what would happen. Gunson replied, “I don’t know.”

In court, Dalton said he’d received a call from Polanski advising him he wouldn’t be there that day. Rittenband asked, “What did he tell you?” and Dalton invoked attorney/client privilege. “Did you tell [Polanski] to return and appear for sentencing?” Rittenband asked. Dalton replied, “Your Honor, I have fulfilled all my obligations.”

Larry said you could almost see the steam coming out of Rittenband’s ears.

At any rate, about a week later Dalton called Larry and told him he was going to file a motion to have Rittenband disqualified and asked him if he would read it and tell him if he thought the declaration was accurate. He had already asked Gunson to do the same. They both had agreed to review and respond to the draft. Rittenband’s lack of professionalism was the one thing all sides could agree on.

Rittenband filed an answer to the motion, in which he disputed the conclusions and insisted he could continue to act fairly. While he didn’t concede any wrongdoing, he nevertheless resigned from the case. He saved himself from being disqualified, but the effect was the same, and that was what mattered: he was off the case. For the rest of his life he never got over his fury, never acknowledged there was anything untoward about his judicial behavior. More than a decade later, when asked about Polanski’s flight, the judge referenced Gilbert and Sullivan’s Mikado, where the Lord High Executioner keeps “a little list” of prospects for beheadings, quoting, “I’ve got him on my list. I’ve got him on my list.” Rittenband unfailingly scoffed at the allegations until the time of his death in 1993.

Thirty years would pass before Polanski would be charged with jumping bail or not appearing in court—and that was at the time of his arrest and attempted extradition in 2009. Roger Gunson continued to work at the DA’s office until then, and he made it clear that he would not charge Polanski with those crimes.