William Bernhardt - Murder One

“Ms. McCall, this is just a preliminary hearing.”

“I know that, your honor. But if we allow these charges to go forward, it will do incalculable damage to the career and reputation of a man who is guilty of nothing more than zealously defending a woman whom the law-enforcement community is desperate to crucify.”

LaBelle leaned forward. “Your honor, if I may. I admire Ms. McCall’s youthful enthusiasm, but she’s tossing out about sixteen issues at once. The question at hand is whether there is sufficient evidence to bind the defendant over for trial.”

“And whether this whole charge was cooked up by the police and their informants to punish Ben Kincaid for beating them in court,” Christina added.

LaBelle steepled his fingers. “I remember when I was just out of law school. I, too, was full of excitement and zeal—”

“Don’t patronize me!” Christina said, jabbing him with a long fingernail.

“—and I admire her support for the man who has, after all, been her employer for the past many years. But we cannot overlook the fact that the murder weapon was found in his file cabinet, and it didn’t get there by itself.”

“No,” Christina shot back. “But you haven’t got the least bit of evidence that it was put there by Ben Kincaid.”

“She does have a point,” the judge said, rubbing the rim of his glasses. Judge Cable was in his midfifties, craggy-faced, with patches of gray. He had a square chin and a no-nonsense gaze. “Your case is pretty thin.”

“Your honor,” LaBelle said calmly, “we both know the burden of proof at a preliminary hearing is light. All we need to show is the merest rational basis—”

“Not in this case,” the judge said hastily. “Not in something that looks very much, whether it is or not, like a vengeance prosecution.”

“But he had the knife,” LaBelle insisted.

Christina cut in. “His file cabinet did, you mean. Remember, the Rules of Professional Conduct allow a lawyer to take and hold property from a client.”

“You can’t conceal evidence,” LaBelle shot back.

“Well, the Rules are a bit murky on that point, aren’t they? And you haven’t established that he got the knife from Keri Dalcanton, or that he knew it was the murder weapon, or for that matter, that he ever saw it until the moment your man pulled it out of the files.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Ms. McCall,” Judge Cable said. “This doesn’t smell good.”

LaBelle drew himself up. “Your honor, with all due respect, we are both officers of this court and we have sworn an oath to uphold the Constitution and the laws of this state. The press and the government will be watching this proceeding carefully, so I know I can trust you to uphold your duty regardless of—”

“Now you listen to me,” Judge Cable said, pointing his gavel. “You may be rich, and you may be popular, and you may be the D.A., but I’m the judge, and you will not threaten me in my courtroom.”

LaBelle held up his hands. “No, no, Judge, you misunderstand me.”

“I don’t think I do.”

LaBelle’s steady calm seemed to be eroding a tad. “I—I didn’t mean that as a threat.”

“It sure sounded like one!”

“I assure you I didn’t mean it that way.”

Christina buttoned her lip and watched as the great man melted. There were miscalculations, and then there were miscalculations. And LaBelle’s attempted power play had been a major miscalculation.

Not that she had been exactly lacking for confidence before, but if a great trial master like LaBelle could make such a bone-headed mistake, who could begrudge a little baby lawyer like her a few?

“Your honor,” Christina said, “why don’t we admit what we all already know? These charges were trumped up to suggest fraud in order to get the Dalcanton case reopened. Well, fine. It worked. Right or wrong, they succeeded, and Ms. Dalcanton’s life is on the line once more, despite the fact that the proceeding constitutes a gross violation of her Constitutional double jeopardy protection.”

“Young lady,” LaBelle said, “the Court of Criminal Appeals ruled—”

“I’m aware of how you weenied around double jeopardy. That’s not what I’m here to argue. The point is, they’ve accomplished their mission. They’ve got their case back. They don’t need to keep pushing these frivolous charges against Ben. Frankly, I think they would’ve dropped the charges as soon as they got the decision from the appeals court, except by that time there’d been a lot of press and to dismiss immediately would’ve been a tacit admission that the charges were bogus to begin with.”

“Your honor,” LaBelle protested, “that is not what happened.”

Judge Cable ignored him. “I must admit, I’ve wondered if that wasn’t what was going on here myself. The case seems so thin, and the prosecution is so weak, it’s as if you’re begging me to dismiss the case. Like maybe you know the charges should go away, but you’re too cowardly to do it yourself.”

“Your honor,” LaBelle said, “let me make clear—”

“As Ms. McCall points out, if you dismissed the charges yourself, you’d probably take a lot of flak from the press. But if you can get me to do it, then you can blame the ‘liberal judicial system’ or ‘revolving-door justice’ or something like that.”

LaBelle’s voice sounded weaker with each protest. “I can guarantee that our prosecutorial motives were pure.”

“Yeah.” Judge Cable stacked his papers against the bench and pushed himself out of his chair. “Well, I don’t see any reason to continue with this hearing.”

Christina jumped forward. “Then you’re going to dismiss the charges?”

Judge Cable hesitated. “I want to write this one down. I’ll prepare an opinion. You’ll have it tomorrow morning.”

“With an apology?” Christina asked.

Cable squinted. “Excuse me?”

“An apology. From the D.A.’s office. Or the bench. Or both.”

“Lady, your man should be grateful just to be off the hook.”

“And I’m sure he will be, your honor. But I also think there should be an apology for the great injustice done to Mr. Kincaid, the damage to his career and reputation and so forth. I think it would be appropriate.” She swallowed. “Under the circumstances.”

Judge Cable pushed his eyeglasses down his nose and gave her a stern look. “You’re not exactly shy, are you, Ms. McCall?”

“No, sir,” she said, smiling. “Shy is Mr. Kincaid’s thing. I’ve got a style all my own.”

22

“ALL CHARGES DISMISSED!” CHRISTINA cried, as she danced through the office lobby. “And ‘the court regrets the inevitable inconvenience to the defendant.’ We won!” She flung the judge’s order into the air, then did a spritely jig around Ben. “We won, we won, we won!”

“That’s great, Christina.” Ben scooped the order off the office carpet. “No apology from the D.A?”

“Did you think there would be?”

“I thought it unlikely, but you never know. After the turn you gave LaBelle in the courtroom, anything was possible. You had him quaking in his boots.”

“Oh, right.”

“You did. I bet he’s never been so terrorized by a new grad doing her first prelim.”

“Well, that’s possible.” She smiled. “The best part is, this frees you up to handle the Dalcanton trial.”

“Christina, I want to thank you. You did a great job in that courtroom.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just pay your bill on time, okay? Most of this firm’s clients are total deadbeats.”

“But seriously, Christina. I know you took on a big load in a short time, and I’m grateful.”

She leaned into his ear and spoke in low dark tones. “If you want to show your gratitude—keep your lips zipped.”