“Your Honor,” I said, “we are not going to request a manslaughter instruction.”
“Then it’s settled. There will be no such instruction to the jury.”
Harper tried again. “But Your Honor—,”
“I’ve ruled, Mr. Harper. We’ll begin closing arguments at nine-thirty tomorrow morning.”
67
“MAYBE WE SHOULD HAVE
TAKEN THE DEAL”
“They’ve been out too long,” I said.
Rosie leaned back in her chair. “It’s been three days, Mike. Stop second-guessing yourself. It’s a waste of energy. And it makes everybody nervous.”
On Friday, February fifteenth, the jury was in its third day of deliberations. Closing arguments had been a draw. Harper focused on the fact that Lexy had injected King. I emphasized the fact that King had asked for it and pointed out all the other people who could have planted the heroin in King’s bathroom. I made an impassioned case for blaming Steele. The jurors were attentive and seemed equally skeptical about our respective presentations.
At three o’clock on Friday afternoon, there was nothing to do except wait.
Nady came into Rosie’s office. “Anything?”
“Not yet,” I said.
“How long do you think they’ll go?”
“Maybe later this afternoon. They aren’t going to want to come back on Monday.”
“What do you think it means?”
“Hard to tell. Maybe we should have taken the deal for second-degree.”
Rosie wasn’t buying. “There’s no way you should have pleaded this out for anything more than voluntary manslaughter.”
“Then maybe I should have agreed to a manslaughter instruction. It would have improved our odds for a shorter sentence.”
“Don’t rule out an acquittal, Mike.”
“I’m not as confident as you are, Rosie.”
“Maybe you should be.”
Nady smiled. “Is he always like this when a jury is out?”
Rosie closed her eyes and nodded. “Every time.”
There was a knock on the door, and Terrence the Terminator came inside. “I just got a text from the bailiff. The jury is coming back.”
* * *
“Will the defendant please rise?”
Lexy stood up between Nady and me.
The judge glanced at Lexy, then spoke to the foreman. “Have you reached a verdict?”
“We have, Your Honor.”
My heart was pounding. Lexy tensed.
The gallery sat in silent anticipation as the foreman handed the verdict to the bailiff, who passed it to the clerk, who delivered it to Judge McDaniel. She studied it for a moment, then she handed the slip of paper back to the clerk.
Her tone was solemn. “Please read the verdict.”
The clerk cleared his throat. “On the charge of murder in the first-degree, the jury finds the defendant not guilty. On the lesser charge of murder in the second-degree, the jury also finds the defendant not guilty.”
Yes!
The courtroom exploded. Reporters headed out the door. I saw Rosie’s smiling face in the gallery. I realized that Lexy was hugging me. She was sobbing as she turned around and hugged Nady.
Judge McDaniel asked for order, and the courtroom went silent. She addressed the foreman. “Is this a unanimous verdict?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“We thank you for your service. You are now dismissed and free to leave.”
After the jurors filed out of court, the judge spoke to Harper. “As always, the court thanks you for your professionalism and courtesy, Mr. Harper.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
She turned to Lexy. “Ms. Low, you are free to go. We wish you the best.”
Lexy’s voice was barely audible. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
We all stood up and Judge McDaniel left the courtroom.
Lexy sat down and took a moment to get her bearings. Finally, she looked at me. “I don’t know how I can possibly thank you and Nady.”
“You’re welcome, Lexy.”
A look of panic crossed her tear-stained face. “Where am I going to go? I have no place to stay. I have nobody to call.”
“They will assign a case worker when we get downstairs. She’ll help you collect your belongings. She’ll get you a hot meal and a place to stay tonight. Tomorrow, she’ll help you find something more permanent.”
68
“IT’S BETTER TO GET OUT A LITTLE EARLY THAN A LITTLE LATE”
Big John flashed his bartender’s smile. “What’ll it be, lad?”
“Just coffee tonight.”
The evening crowd at Dunleavy’s was thinning. I was dead tired, but I always seemed to end up at Big John’s after finishing a trial.
My uncle put a fatherly hand on my shoulder. “You look like you could use a beer.”
“Maybe I could. Is it too late to change my order?”
“I’ll talk to the barkeep.” He turned to Rosie, who was sitting across the table from me. “Can I get the distinguished Public Defender another beer?”
“Not tonight, Big John. I’m driving.”
His gaze shifted to Grace, who was sitting next to Rosie. “Anything for the Love Goddess?”
“No thanks, Big John. By the way, I’m shutting down the Love Goddess.”
“May I ask why?”
“These things have a short shelf life. We’re losing users and gaining trolls. It’s becoming more of a hassle than it’s worth.”
“Can you sell it to somebody?”
“I’m not for sale.”
When Grace was born, I never figured that I would someday be immensely proud of her for declining a potentially lucrative payout for the rights to her sex-advice site.
Big John wasn’t giving up. “This is going to be bad for my business, honey. I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of telling everybody that my great-niece is the Love Goddess.”
“Dunleavy’s was here long before the Love Goddess, and it’ll be here for a long time to come. Apps come and go. Classics are forever.”
My last living uncle’s wide face transformed into a broad smile. “Did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite great-niece?”
“Every time I see you. You say that to all of your great-nieces, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so.”
“You’re still the favorite of my favorites, Grace.”
“And you’re my favorite great-uncle, Big John.”
“I’m your only great-uncle, honey.” The greatest tight end in the history of St. Ignatius High School let out a throaty laugh and headed back to the bar.
I looked across the table at my ex-wife and daughter. Grace had come up from L.A. for the weekend to look for post-graduation housing. She now looked exactly like the Rosie I had fallen in love with a quarter of a century earlier. It made me feel old.
“Are you really shutting down the Love Goddess?” I asked.
“It’s run its course. It’s better to get out a little early than a little late. Besides, I want to make movies.”
I wasn’t heartbroken. “You still going over to Emeryville in the morning?”
“Yes. I’m looking at a condo a few blocks from Pixar.”
“To rent?”
“To buy.” She arched her eyebrow in the same manner that Rosie always did. “The Love Goddess is paying for it.”
My daughter the sex-advice entrepreneur is becoming a real estate mogul. And I’m still living in the one-bedroom apartment behind the Larkspur fire station that I rented when Rosie and I got divorced. “You want company?”
“Sure.”
“Do you need us to co-sign your mortgage?”
“Nope. I’m already pre-qualified.”
Rosie and I exchanged a glance. Our twenty-year-old daughter was already light years ahead of us.
Grace stood up and put on her jacket. “I’ll meet you at home. I want to see Tommy, and I need to be up early tomorrow
.”
I was filled with pride as I watched our ever-so-resourceful daughter say good-bye to Big John and leave through the back door, where her new car was parked in Big John’s spot.
I squeezed the hand of my ex-wife, former law partner, current boss, mother of our children, and the first Latina Public Defender of the City and County of San Francisco. “I guess this means that she’s launched.”
“She was launched a couple of years ago.”
“Let’s not get cocky, Rosita. You’re familiar with Daley’s Rule Number One: When you think you have everything figured out, life has a way of reminding you that you don’t.”
“She’ll be fine, Mike.”
“She already is.” I squeezed her hand more tightly. “Did you know that she was shutting down the Love Goddess?”
“She told me a couple of weeks ago. She didn’t want me to mention it.”
Rosie was better at keeping secrets than I was. “I’m not entirely disappointed.”
“Neither am I. Is there a ‘but’ coming?”
“She was making a lot of money. It paid for that fancy SUV with the leather seats.”
“You were okay with our daughter running a sex-advice site as long as it was profitable?”
“I must confess that the financial upside mitigated some of the moral downside.”
“It’s probably better that you aren’t a priest anymore. I’m not bursting with pride about this, but I came down in the same place that you did.”
“Does that make us terrible people?”
“Probably.”
“How much do you think she made?”
“Enough to pay for her tuition, room, board, spending money, the new car, and a down payment on a condo.”
“Not bad for a twenty-year-old,” I said.
“I guess we did something right.”
She left it there. While I knew that she was immensely proud of both of our kids, she thought it was unseemly to brag. In that respect, and many others, she was similar to her mother.
“Were you able to talk to any of the jurors?” she asked.
“Yes. They decided that there wasn’t enough evidence to convict Lexy of murder.”
“They got that much right.”
“They also asked why she wasn’t charged with manslaughter. I told them that it was the D.A.’s decision.”
“Would they have convicted her for manslaughter?”
“Probably.”
“Then you got an excellent result. Is Harper going to charge Lexy with possession or solicitation?”
“No. He decided that she’s been through enough.”
“What about Flynn’s death?”
“Insufficient evidence.”
Rosie pointed at the TV, which was tuned to the local news. “They’re searching Steele’s house for evidence relating to King’s death. My moles tell me that he’ll be in custody tomorrow, and likely to be charged with murder or manslaughter. Evidently, there was more information on Steele’s burner phone.”
“Did he intend to kill King?”
“Unclear. It is clear that he intended to arrange for him to get a massive shot of heroin to send him a message not to mess with his daughter—or anybody else—ever again.”
“Message delivered.”
“I’ll say.”
“Do your moles know where he got the heroin?”
“The ‘Guy from Rye.’ Pitt had a burner, too. There is communication from Steele to Pitt asking him to provide some high-end heroin to ‘thank’ King for his hard work on the IPO. Pitt was delighted to oblige.”
“Is the D.A. going to charge Pitt, too?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Definitely for possession. Possibly as an accessory to murder or manslaughter.” Her tone turned thoughtful. “All things considered, you and Nady got a fine result for our client.”
“Thanks.”
“Lawyering matters. Nady didn’t want to come over for a celebratory drink?”
“I sent her home. She hasn’t gotten much sleep lately. I told her that she needed to spend some time with Max and Luna.”
“She’s turning into a superb trial lawyer. It helps that she’s learning from the best.”
“Does that mean that I might be in line for a modest raise?”
“No.”
“I also told her that she could bring Luna to the office.”
“We’re now a dog-friendly workplace?”
“I made an executive decision in my capacity as the co-head of the Felony Division. Besides, it’s very trendy. All the tech companies are doing it.”
“We aren’t a tech company. It’s a bad precedent, and it probably violates a dozen city regulations.”
“You sound like a bureaucrat.”
“I am a bureaucrat, Mike.”
“Are you planning to report us?”
“Absolutely not.” She grinned. “Besides, Luna is easier to deal with than some of our employees.”
I hoped that she wasn’t referring to me.
Rosie checked her iPhone for texts and e-mails. Then she put the phone into her pocket. “How did Kaela Joy find Steele’s daughter?”
“She’s very resourceful.” I arched an eyebrow. “And she may have gotten a tip from Nick the Dick.”
“How did Pete get Steele’s burner phone number?”
“Brian Holton.”
“You got an acquittal based on a tip from a guy who runs a sugar daddy site?”
“We don’t ask our sources to sign a morality pledge.”
“How did Pete manage to hack into Steele’s burner phone?”
“A couple of Holton’s cyber-security people used to be world-class hackers.”
“You realize that may not have been technically legal?”
“We got to the truth, Rosie.” Or close enough to get the jury to reasonable doubt.
“I could make a reasonable argument that you crossed the line. Please don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.” At least I’ll try. “Is that the extent of my reprimand?”
“Yes. And we’ll never talk about this again.”
“Agreed. It also helped that Betsy McDaniel didn’t allow a manslaughter instruction. We probably wouldn’t be having a celebratory drink if she had decided the other way.”
“She’s a good judge.”
“Yes, she is.”
She smiled. “You did it.”
“What?”
“Everything. You got an acquittal for Lexy. Steele is about to be arrested. So is Pitt. Y5K’s IPO is on hold. You exposed King, Steele, Patel, Moore, Pitt, and the Y5K management team as a bunch of misogynist pigs.”
“They did it to themselves.”
“It wouldn’t have been uncovered without you, Nady, and Pete. All things considered, I’d say we came pretty close to justice being served.”
“Yeah.”
Her lips turned down. “You don’t seem happy about it.”
“King is still dead. Lexy is still addicted and has no place to live. Steele’s daughter is in rehab. Patel’s marriage is blowing up. So is Chu’s engagement to Moore. A bunch of people at Y5K will probably lose their jobs. And the rest of Silicon Valley will keep rolling as if nothing happened.”
“We can’t fix everything, Mike.”
“We can keep trying.”
Rosie finished her beer. “How is Lexy?”
“Grateful and scared. The case worker found her a spot in a halfway house near Alamo Square. It’s good for a couple of weeks. There’s a social worker on-site and a doctor on-call.”
“It’s a long process. And her mental state?”
“Relieved to be out of jail, but she understands that it’s going to take some time before she’ll get back to anything resembling normalcy.”
“One step at a time.”
“Yeah.” I picked up my iPhone. “I need to show you something.” I typed a few strokes, and the home page for Mature Relations came up.
Rosie look
ed at my phone. “Who’s BigLaw714?”
“Me.”
“You have an account at Mature Relations?”
“Pete helped me set it up.”
“Is there something I need to know?”
“It’s purely for research, Rosie. You’ll note that I didn’t post a photo. Besides, nobody would be interested in seeing me.”
“I would.”
“Good to know.”
I hit a few more keystrokes. The homepage for the “Tech Princess” came up.
Rosie’s eyes opened wide. “Lexy is already back up on Mature Relations?”
“Yup.”
“That didn’t take long.”
“I’m not entirely surprised. It’s going to be difficult for her to find a job. As a practical matter, she needs to figure out a way to pay her bills.”
“There are other ways.”
“This is more lucrative.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“Yes.”
“Are you planning to talk to her about it?”
“Yes.”
Rosie lowered her voice. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“After all the hard work that you and Nady put in, Lexy is right back where she started.”
“At least she isn’t in jail. We take our clients as they come, Rosie. Just because we got an acquittal doesn’t mean that we can fix the rest of her life.”
Big John reappeared. “Anything else, kids?”
“We’re good, Big John. Thanks for your hospitality.”
“You’re welcome. Why are you smiling?”
“You’re the last guy on Planet Earth who still calls me ‘kid.’”
“I was in the waiting room with your Daddy when you were born. You’ll always be a kid to me, Mikey.”
“Can I pay you for the drinks?”
“I don’t take money from kids.” The big bartender tossed his dish towel over his shoulder and headed back to the bar that my father had helped him build six decades earlier.
I looked across the worn wooden table where my dad and Roosevelt Johnson used to sit. The Public Defender of the City and County of San Francisco was looking at her iPhone again. She was more beautiful than the day I met her.
“How much longer do you want to do this?” I asked.
She looked up. “One more election cycle. That’ll be enough.”
Higher Law Boxset, Volume 3 Page 79