A Case of Hate

by Rex Darby

  “Sorry, Your Honor, no,” Ms. Fairweather says. She holds her hand up to calm Mr. Blachowicz.

  I continue. “Did he tell you what he had planned?”

  “He said he wanted to make it look like a suicide, and strangle her to death with one of his ties, then tie her up like she’d hanged herself.”

  I see the jury drinking this all in. They look over to Mr. Blachowicz, who know looks extremely angry and red in the face, staring down Mr. Hatton. This is perfect for me. The more he gets angry, the more the jury will turn against him and think he’s guilty. If he has such a temper he can’t even keep quiet in a courtroom, where he’s supposed to be on his best behavior, he’s more likely to be a type of person with enough rage to commit murder.

  I make sure to press Mr. Hatton for more questions that will make the defendant angry.

  “What was the relationship between you and Mr. Blachowicz?”

  “We were close,” he says. “We’re in med school together.”

  “Were you surprised, when you got that text message?”

  “No,” he says. “He talked about killing Georgia a lot. About how much he hated her, and that she was going with other men and stuff. And I knew he was going to do it. He told me he knew how to commit a perfect crime and not get caught, and that he’d killed a hobo before and gotten away with it.”

  The air in the courtroom goes deadly still. Some of the jury gasp. I could punch the air in victory. I take a quick look at the jury, who are all looking at Mr. Blachowicz like he’s the devil himself.

  “No! I didn’t tell you that ever, you lying asshole,” Mr. Blachowicz hollers. His face is now crimson. Ms. Fairweather desperately grabs him and tries to calm down, but he’s a raging bull. I suppress a smile.

  “Counsel!” Judge Pollard yells above Mr. Blachowicz. “Control your client! Mr. Blachowicz, settle down right now.”

  “Why are you lying, Tom?!” Mr. Blachowicz screams, spit flying all over the desk. “Why?”

  “Mr. Blachowicz, stop that right now!” Judge Pollard says.

  But he can’t control himself.

  “Right, I am adjourning the proceedings for today. We will start tomorrow morning at 9 o’clock. I would like to speak to the defendant’s council in chambers to discuss the defendant’s behavior and means for rectifying this going forward. For now I am revoking bail for the defendant, and the defendant will be held in San Cristobal county jail for the duration of the trial starting immediately. We are adjourned.”

  I feel like skipping out of that darn courtroom. The jury are thoroughly disgusted with his outburst, with his extreme anger and problems controlling it, and with the fact he’s wasted their time.

  There’s still a gag order on the case, so I can’t speak to the press directly, and the court isn’t admitting journalists, but that doesn’t matter. There’ll be a reporter or two outside, and will catch him being led away to the jail van. Any smart journalist can fill in the details there. This is absolutely wonderful. Ms. Fairweather will be crying into her pillow tonight, I’m sure.

  Even if her self-defense case does go well, I reason with myself on the way out of the courtroom, she still won’t get him to walk. I expect a voluntary manslaughter conviction based on ‘imperfect self-defense’ if the Judge allows. He could still be imprisoned for a long time, even life. I’ve seen the police photos from when he was brought in. Not a scratch on him. Surely killing Georgia was an overuse of force?

  Basically, whatever way I look at it, I’m going to end up with another conviction under my belt, and Ms. Fairweather’s record will be broken. First-degree murder and the death penalty is my ideal scenario, of course, but I’ve seen it can still play out in other ways that work to my favor.

  It’s at times like these I wish I had girlfriends to go tell my good news to. I’m not really very good at keeping friends. I think people find me rather intense, and besides, I’m often too busy to keep up my side of the arrangements.

  I don’t bother going to tell Brett, as I know his reaction will be far less than inspiring, so again, it’s JaMarcus and I taking a little time out to get a slightly celebratory lunch before we head back to our desks. I have an open-and-shut rape case to work on for the afternoon, and everything’s all ticking along pretty well.

  At lunch, feeling rather giddy with bail being revoked, I order champagne.

  JaMarcus grins at me. “I did a good job getting him all prepped, huh?”

  “You sure did,” I say, clinking my glass to his. “My secret weapon. Keep on like this, and you’ll be sitting in an Exec ADA chair before you know it.”

  “That’s the goal,” he says, nodding at me. “And to become DA before the age of thirty.”

  “Whoa,” I say. “You’ll be setting a new record in the state.”

  “Yup. Just watch me.”

  I had no idea he was so ambitious, but he looks as giddy as I am, and the excitement must have brought it all out. It makes me feel a little nervous for some reason, but I remain encouraging. “You go for it, son.”

  Chapter 13

  Liliana Fairweather

  “What in the heck was that?” Judge Pollard says, standing behind her desk.

  A defendant going nuts, obviously. I want to be sarcastic but hold my tongue. “Sorry about that.”

  She raises an eyebrow at me. “I’ve heard about you and your games. Sure this wasn’t some kind of tactic to buy some time? Sure you didn’t encourage him to act that way?”

  “Why would I?” I say. “It only harms my case.”

  “I don’t run a circus in my courtrooms, so could you please keep your monkey under control next time?”

  Freaking hell. “Yes, Your Honor.” She flaps me away, and I go, but then turn at the door. I can’t resist. “Oh, by the way, Judge, Agnew provided me with a fake criminal record for the victim.”

  That gets her attention. “What?”

  “Yeah. She provided a clean one.”

  Judge Pollard frowns. “It must have been a mistake.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t,” I say tersely. “It was an attempt to prevent us mounting a defense based on self-defense.”

  “Well, that’s the angle you’re running with now. So...?”

  “Because we did our own independent investigation and got the record ourselves.”

  “Okay, so you’re tattling to me, why exactly?”

  She’s just revealed her true colors. Pro-prosecution, with an expectation of bad faith in the mix. She’s willing to turn a blind eye to State misbehavior.

  “Okay, don’t worry about it.” I know it’s not worth pursuing. “Have a good day.”

  “That’s what I thought,” she mumbles on my way out.

  The fucking bitch.

  It only makes me more determined to win the trial. Get the two bitches in one fell swoop. I’m going to absolutely destroy them.

  My insides burn with it. I drive right to the Merc dealership, cursing myself for not doing it sooner. This vehicle is going unlock a new level of confidence.

  A young salesman accosts me as soon as I walk in the door, but I can judge by his face and manner he’s going to prattle on endlessly about this feature, that finance package, this extra, that horsepower, and I’ll be in there all day. So I ignore him and stride up to the desk, where an older man with an authoritative air sits.

  “I want to drive away within an hour in a monster GLS. I’m a very busy attorney and I don’t have time to wait around. Brown pearlescent paint with beige leather interior preferred, but I’m open to options since it has to be now. Half cash, half finance, maintenance package. Can you do it?”

  “Of course, Ms. Fairweather,” he says, standing up.

  “Ah, my reputation precedes me?” I say, a smile warming my face. I adore being recognized.

  “Indeed it does,” he says, putting out his hand. “My name’s John Merino. A pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you, John.” I shake it and feel wonderful.

  “Now, we don’t ha
ve a brown GLS with beige leather interior in stock, but if you give me a moment, I can check on my computer here and see what surrounding dealers have. If they’re within a close radius I can get you exactly what you want. I can drive over there right now to pick it up for you. Please, sit down. Would you like a drink?”

  I sit down opposite him, and love the way he’s treating me. I know he’s a salesman, but he makes me feel absolutely and completely taken care of. “A coffee would be wonderful, cream and sugar.”

  He beckons over the little young beanpole who tried to get me by the door and gives him my order. The young man smiles but I can tell he’s annoyed having to go fetch coffee.

  John searches on his computer. “Aha!” he says, his eyes bright. “Well, won’t you look at that. It’s your lucky day, Ms. Fairweather. Just twenty minutes away, we have a brand new, brown pearlescent paint, beige leather interior GLS. It seems the gods are smiling on you.”

  I smile. “I sure hope so.”

  “Well, I can drive over there, bring it back for you. And in the meantime our business manager Justina will fix the paperwork with you, so that pretty much as soon as I return, you can drive that monster away.” He smiles at me. “How does that sound?”

  I smile back. “Wonderful.”

  And he’s good on his word. Just over an hour after I walked in the dealership, I’m driving out of the parking lot in the most beautiful machine man has ever made. The smell is just intoxicating. I would eat the leather seats if I could. I feel all warm inside, from the coffee, and the purchase, and John, and kind of wish I could turn the vehicle back around and spend more time with him. I tell myself he’s a sleazy salesman, but I can’t let myself believe it.

  As I open the GLS up on the freeway and speed – checking in my rearview for overzealous cops – I allow my mind to wander into a fantasy world where John takes care of me and whisks me away on expensive dates and buys me jewelry and flowers and lavishes me with compliments. It would be nice. I could be his trophy wife, and stay home. I wouldn’t cook or clean, I’d have staff for that, of course. I wonder how much he earns?

  I feel ashamed of myself immediately for having such fantasies. Like fuck, am I turning into my mother?

  I must be tired. It must be just a crazy reaction to what’s happened today. That’s all.

  I will have to go see Jason tonight in jail. We need to work out what to do about Thomas. But not now. That stupid jackass has pissed me off, and I don’t want to see him right now. I don’t even want to defend the little strangling asshole at this moment in time. Typical upper-class white boy, thinks he knows better than me how to handle this. I’ll have to put him in his damn place, and the thought of it is making me tired. Why do I have to put on some fucking performance to make people respect me? Why do I have to act like Queen Bitch for people to listen to me? That fucking Judge Pollard. I’m going to smash that case up right in front of her eyes.

  For now I’m going to cruise about town with the windows down to show off my new ride.

  Later, when I step into the jail, my dimple-faced deputy is not there, and the guy on the desk is far too ugly to flirt with. I go in and see Jason in a side room.

  “Sorry,” he says, before I can get a word in.

  “So was Thomas really talking shit? You told me you were talking about sleeping with another girl, who you were going to take on a date. Is that really true? Can you level with me?”

  “Yes, it was about a girl, and he knew it.” His eyes are wet with tears. “Why is he lying about it? I never ever said anything about killing Georgia. Ever. I swear to you.”

  I sigh. “You know, I fucked up, Jason. I should have got him as a witness. But I called, and he didn’t pick up, and since we had a good strategy to run with anyways, I dropped it. As for why he’s lying, that’s one of two things. Either the prosecution is paying him—”

  “No, it won’t be that,” he says. “His dad is richer than mine.”

  “Okay, well, they’ve told him they’re going to charge him with something. Accessory, probably. I’ll go see him tonight and fix it.”

  “Thanks.” He looks down. “Am I going to get out of here, really? Are you going to win this for me?”

  “Yes,” I say firmly. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

  I try to track down Thomas but he doesn’t answer his phone. When I go over to the address listed for him, his mother answers the door and tells me tersely to leave them alone.

  So the next day, I have to go for him in the cross.

  “Mr. Hatton,” I say. “You mentioned yesterday that when the defendant sent you the WhatsApp message saying Today is the day, you knew he was talking about killing Georgia Stafford, due to the fact you’d spoken about his supposed plans to murder her previously. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any evidence of these conversations?”

  “What kind of evidence?”

  “Like, WhatsApp conversations, or someone else overhearing the conversation, or anything like that?”

  He shifts in the seat and looks uncomfortable. “No.”

  “Mr. Hatton, are you telling the truth about your conversations with the defendant?”

  His eyes shift toward Agnew. A telling sign. “Yes.”

  “But you have no way to verify that?”

  “No.”

  “So you could tell us that you spoke about blowing up the White House, or, I don’t know, the price of Camembert cheese, and we’d just have to take your word for it?”

  “Objection, she’s badgering the witness,” Agnew says.

  “Sustained.”

  “Mr. Hatton, beyond the customary $40 per day paid to witnesses, and travel expenses, have you been paid by the prosecution to testify here today?”

  “No.”

  “Mr. Hatton, did Executive ADA Lincoln Agnew promise you any kind of benefits for testifying?”

  He pauses. “No.”

  “Were you told by anyone that if you did not testify here today and say the things they wanted you to, that you would be charged with a crime?”

  “Objection,” Lincoln says.

  She doesn’t even say for what and Judge Pollard already says, “Sustained.”

  There was nothing wrong with that question, nothing at all.

  I have to go all in. The judge is not going to like this, but I’ve got to get my point across. “Mr. Hatton, you have committed no crime whatsoever, and no one has the basis to charge you with anything. If they do, I will be your lawyer and get it thrown out immediately.”

  “Objection!” Agnew hollers.

  “Sustained!”

  “Tom,” I continue. “Don’t let anybody intimidate you. The defendant tells me that the message he sent you was about a date he was going on, and today’s the day meant he was going to have sex with her. Is that true?”

  He looks panicked, between me and Judge Pollard and Lincoln.

  “Yes.”

  The courtroom erupts. Judge Pollard bangs the gavel. “Order! I want to—"

  I continue, practically hollering to be heard over the courtroom noise. “It was nothing to do with murder, was it?”

  “No.”

  “You were told to lie here today, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Counsel!” Judge Pollard hollers at me.

  “By whom?” I ask.

  He points at Agnew’s assistant, JaMarcus Brown-Keats.

  “Order! Now!” Judge Pollard screams.

  I wait as everyone settles down, just daring to hope that she won’t throw me in jail for contempt of court. But I did what was right for my client.

  “I am putting a blanket ban on anyone in this room talking to journalists. If any story about this appears on any news media, I will personally track down the person involved and you will be brought up on charges,” Judge Pollard says ferociously. She looks at the jury. “That includes all of you. Every single person in this room. I am declaring this a mistrial. Mr. Blachowicz, you are fr
ee to go.”

  No one can believe how quickly it’s over. She gets up and leaves. Everyone stands or sits around, stunned, waiting for something to happen. Agnew and Brown-Keats rush away first, thankfully taking Mr. and Mrs. Stafford with them.

  Thomas breaks down in tears. “I’m sorry, buddy,” he says across the courtroom to Jason. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Jason turns away from him and goes over to his parents.

  I look at Marisol and breathe out. “Phew. What do you know?”

  Chapter 14

  Lincoln Agnew

  “I’m dealing with it,” I tell the Staffords. “I’ll call you later on today.”

  I get JaMarcus into my office and scream at him. I even curse. “What the actual fuck do you think you were doing?”

  “I’m sorry!” he says, crying his eyes out. “I didn’t know he would crack!”

  “It’s not about if he would crack or not! That’s serious misconduct! You’re lucky Judge Pollard shut down everything like she did. She’s giving me a chance to cover your ass for you, do you know that? If this gets out to any press whatsoever, you know Ms. Fairweather’s going to make it blow up. Didn’t you learn your lesson about the pizza man thing? What if she gets Zachary Allen onto writing a story about you now? If all the detail gets put out there, it’s going to be a huge scandal, and at the least, you’ll be fired. We may have to bring charges against you, and get you put in jail. Witness intimidation? JaMarcus, really?”

  “But that’s exactly what Liliana does, and she’s like some fucking celebrity! It hasn’t held her back, has it?”

  “Then go and work for her,” I spit at him. “Since you admire her so much. Perhaps being a corrupt defense attorney is better suited to your character.”

  “I just wanted to nail the guy. We both know he’s guilty. But her story was so good! She was totally swaying the jury! I had to.”

  “No, you didn’t. And, actually,” I say, getting angry. “This just proves you have no trust in me whatsoever. It was a damn mistake letting you interview the jurors. It put ideas in your head above your station. You were acting in this case as an assistant.” I shake my head, dumbfounded. I never expected this. “My goodness, JaMarcus. What in the heck is wrong with you?”