[Marc Kadella 04.0] Certain Justice

by Dennis Carstens

“What do you think, Mr. Gondeck?”

  “We do not oppose the motion, your Honor,” Gondeck replied while the court reporter continued to make a record of the hearing.

  “Mr. Kadella,” the judge said turning her attention to Marc.

  “Absolutely not. The defense is totally opposed, Judge. This is going to be a media circus as it is and I have enough experience to know that the courtroom cameras only make it worse.”

  “There are important first amendment issues…” one of the older TV lawyers started to say.

  “Yeah, I heard you the first ten times,” Judge Koch replied holding up a hand to stop him. “I remember reading something about the defendant’s right to a fair trial, too. I’ll go with that one. You are all free to file an appeal but until then, no cameras.”

  While Marc waited in the courtroom twirling a pen through his fingers, Gondeck rolled over to him while seated in his chair.

  “Hey,” he whispered when he got next to Marc not wanting the crowded gallery to overhear him.

  “Yeah?”

  “I just thought of something. Is Maddy Rivers going to be around for this trial?”

  Marc stared at him for several seconds before saying, “Do I have to call your wife and tell her what’s going on in that tiny little head of yours?”

  “Hey,” Gondeck said leaning back in the chair and held his hands up in mock protest. “I was just wondering.”

  “Uh huh,” Marc replied. “Now, get back over on your side and behave yourself.”

  “Mr. Kadella,” Marc heard a voice say. It was Judge Koch’s clerk, Andy Combs. “Your client’s here.”

  The gallery was almost full including a gaggle of media. Marc got up from his seat to go meet privately with Howie. When he did this he glanced at the crowd and made eye contact with Gabriella Shriqui who wiggled her fingers at him. The two of them had become friends during a previous case and knew each other well. Gabriella was one of the few journalists Marc liked and respected. Of course the fact that Gabriella was stop traffic gorgeous didn’t hurt the relationship.

  Marc found Howie already seated at a table in a small conference room adjoining the courtroom. Howie was dressed in clothes Marc had provided for him; tan khakis and a blue buttoned down shirt. Judge Koch had already ordered that the shackles be removed from him and a deputy had done this.

  “How you doing?” Marc asked while taking a seat.

  “Okay, I guess,” Howie shrugged. “It’s not like I haven’t done this before,” he added with a weak smile.

  “The place is full of spectators, including a lot of people from the press. When we go out there, I want you to show no expression at all. Don’t laugh, don’t smile, don’t look sad, nothing. Act as if everything is going exactly the way we figured it would.”

  “Okay, yeah I get it,” Howie said.

  “They’ll call your case, we’ll go stand before the judge. She’ll tell you you’re charged with second-degree murder and ask you to plea. Plead not guilty.”

  “I am not guilty,” Howie said.

  “Then there will be a discussion about bail. The judge will deny bail and that will be that. I’ll tell her we won’t waive your right to a speedy trial. I want to get that clock ticking today.”

  “Will there be more charges?”

  “Yeah, I talked to the prosecutor and he admitted they’re taking this to a grand jury. He wouldn’t tell me any more than that except it will happen soon. Probably by the end of the week.”

  “You know him, the prosecutor?”

  “Yeah, I’ve known him for a while. He’s a decent guy but don’t let his looks or demeanor fool you. He’s a damn good lawyer and he’ll do whatever he has to do to put you away for life. He’s tough as nails but honest.

  “Now,” Marc continued removing a two page document from his briefcase. “I need you to sign this. It’s a lien against your suit with the city and county. I talked to your lawyer and she thinks she’ll settle it for a good piece of money up front and payments over time. She’s agreed to front you twenty-five grand for me. I’ll put it in a trust account and use it for fees and expenses and hopefully she’ll get the case settled. One last time, you sure you want me? There are a lot of good lawyers who would love to have your case.”

  “No, no. I want you,” Howie said as he signed the document. “I know you’ve had some big cases and can handle this. God won’t let me go back to prison for something I didn’t do. Is Father John here?”

  “Yes, he is. He’s in the front row right behind where we’ll be sitting.”

  There was a soft knock on the door, it opened and a courtroom deputy sheriff stuck her head in and told them the judge was coming out.

  “Let’s go,” Marc said to Howie.

  Marc entered his office through the hallway exit door and found everyone crowding around the TV set. He knew what they were watching. Melinda Pace was on the screen finishing her mandated apology and looking sincerely contrite and fully chastened.

  “Did you know she was back?” Carolyn asked him.

  It was a highly publicized trial that Marc had done that had led to the TV personality’s suspension. Her behavior, fueled by a quest for ratings and her drinking problem, had driven Melinda Pace far over the line of ethical conduct. She was now back on the air just in time for the upcoming media circus about to swirl around Howie Traynor.

  “Yeah, I heard,” Marc answered Carolyn. “I saw Gabriella in court.”

  “How did it go?” Barry Cline asked him.

  “About as expected,” Marc answered.

  “Oh, look at this!” Sandy said when Marc appeared on the screen. He had done a brief on-camera interview with Gabriella after the arraignment and it was being aired by Melinda.

  “You just can’t say no to her, can you?” Chris Grafton asked giving Marc a mild shot.

  “Yeah, like you could,” Marc replied.

  The room went quiet until Marc and Gabriella were no longer on screen. When the camera went back to Melinda, Marc said, “You know, I get better looking every day.”

  The laughter died down and Marc followed Connie Mickelson, Chris and Barry into the conference room. The lawyers took chairs at the table and looked at Connie.

  “What do you think?” she asked Marc.

  “I don’t know what to think,” Marc replied. “He insists he’s innocent. I haven’t been given a lot of the discovery yet so I don’t know what’s going on here yet.”

  Marc and Barry both handled criminal defense work. Connie did personal injury and family law. Chris was developing a nice list of small business corporate clients. Both Marc and Barry had handled notorious, highly publicized trials in the past. The publicity generated could be both a boon and a detriment to their business.

  The four of them tossed it around for another fifteen minutes. At the end of it they all agreed, once again, to help Marc in any way they could. Marc admitted money could be a problem and Connie assured him he could count on her for help if and when he needed it.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Marc exited the semi-crowded elevator in the Hennepin County Government Center and found his Uncle Larry pacing in front of the elevator doors nervously waiting for him. They shook hands and walked together to the appropriate courtroom for Larry’s trial. It was only a few minutes past 8:00 A.M. but the judge’s clerk was in the courtroom waiting for him. Marc checked in with her then took a seat at the defense table next to his uncle. At 8:30 Earl Bicknell, the Minneapolis Assistant City Attorney, arrived. The clerk immediately hustled the two lawyers back to see Judge Gilbert.

  “Does your client really insist on going through with this?” Gilbert asked Marc even before the two lawyers could be seated.

  “Yes, your Honor, he does,” Marc respectfully answered. “He wants to exercise his constitutional right to have his day in court. Don’t laugh Earl,” Marc quickly added to a grinning Bicknell.

  “He’s right, counselor,” the judge admonished the city attorney. “How about this,” she continue
d turning back to Marc. “How about he pleads no contest, I put him on probation for six months and it goes off his record then. And he pays two hundred and we’ll call it court costs?”

  Marc sighed and said, “I’ll ask him.”

  Marc left to check with his uncle. Two minutes later he was back in the judge’s chambers.

  “No deal,” Marc told the judge and prosecutor.

  “Okay. We’ll take an hour for jury selection, no more than that. Then twenty minutes each for opening statements. You can put your first witness on and we’ll get going. I want this done by one o’clock. No break for lunch. Any questions? Good. I’ll be on the bench at nine. Be ready to go.”

  Marc walked past Larry who was still seated at the table in the courtroom, through the door and out into the hallway. He was relieved to see the two people he was hoping to find when he got there.

  “Hey, thanks for coming,” Marc said greeting Danh Vang, a reporter with the Minneapolis Star Tribune and Gabriella Shriqui.

  “You owe me an interview on the Traynor case,” Gabriella reminded.

  “Me, too,” Vang chimed in.

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Marc said. “We’ll start at nine and pick a jury. It shouldn’t take long to find six people. Probably no more than a couple hours for testimony,” he explained to them. “Then closing arguments. The judge wants to be done by 1:00. I really appreciate this.”

  “This guy is your seventy-five-year-old uncle?” Vang asked him.

  “Yeah, but don’t use that,” Marc said.

  “We’ll see,” Gabriella said. “Depends on what we need to juice up the story.”

  “Come on, Gabriella. Give me a break. I don’t need my mother, his sister to find out about this,” Marc basically whined.

  “We’ll see,” Gabriella winked at him.

  True to her word, Judge Gilbert was on the bench precisely at nine. She immediately noticed seven or eight spectators which was not unusual. There are always people hanging around the courts watching trials for entertainment. In addition to those there was a woman from an anti-prostitution group sitting in. She was there to see to it that justice was done or at least the justice she believed should be done.

  The presence of these people was not a surprise. Nor was the presence of the reporter from the Strib, Danh Vang. He worked the court beat and was around the courts every day. It was the attendance of Gabriella Shriqui that caught the judge’s attention, as well as everyone else in the room. TV rarely bothered with routine misdemeanor cases, but of course, she had every right to be there. Uncle Larry was beaming with pride and joy at the sight of her.

  To start the jury selection a panel of ten prospective jurors was brought in and seated in the jury box. The judge made a few preliminary remarks to them and asked a few general questions of the group as a whole.

  Marc began the jury voir dire. He started with general questions to indoctrinate the jury about innocent until proven guilty, beyond a reasonable doubt, the burden of proof and to make sure each juror would keep an open mind. Forty-five minutes later the six lucky ones had been selected; three women and three men. None older than forty which was what Marc had hoped for.

  Bicknell gave his opening statement and quickly walked the jury through the case. Marc had previously brought a motion to preclude the recording the cops had of Larry clearly soliciting the policewoman. His motion was denied and Bicknell told them what they would hear and what the police witnesses would testify to.

  Marc used his opening statement to again remind them of their promise and duty. While he spoke he made eye contact with each of them and emphasized innocent until proven guilty and it was up to them to make that determination. Not the judge or the prosecutor. It was solely their decision.

  Bicknell started calling witnesses and brought the detective who was in charge on first. Detective Paul Cannon was a solid veteran cop and had little trouble explaining to the jury what had happened. When he finished, Bicknell turned him over to Marc.

  “Your testimony is that you, the sound technician and two uniformed police officers were parked a half a block away from your so-called decoy officer Jennifer Hall, is that correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Cannon replied.

  “And none of you had a direct line of sight with Officer Hall did you?”

  “No.”

  “You could not see what she was doing?”

  “No, we could hear them clearly…”

  “Is that a no to my question, Detective?”

  “Um, yes, you’re right we could not see her.”

  “She could have been doing a pole dance and…”

  “Your Honor, objection,” Bicknell interrupted him. “Assumes facts not in evidence.”

  “Sustained,” the judge ruled.

  “May we approach?” Bicknell asked. Judge Gilbert answered affirmatively and the lawyers went to the bench. Gilbert pressed a button to emit a white noise in the courtroom so the three of them could converse without being overheard.

  “Your Honor, he’s trying to lay a claim for entrapment. If he wanted to plead that he should have done so before this,” Bicknell said.

  “Who said anything about entrapment?” Marc innocently asked.

  “You are,” Bicknell replied.

  “He has a point, Mr. Kadella. You’re getting awfully close to it. That’s enough. Move along,” Gilbert said.

  “Yes, your Honor.”

  When the lawyers got back to their respective tables Marc let the detective go with no more questions.

  The next two witnesses, male uniformed police officers, both testified to the same basic thing as Detective Cannon. With each of them, Marc made the same point that they could not see what actually occurred.

  “Is this your primary function with the police department?” Marc asked both Sergeant Alan Schmidt and Officer Kenneth Lindborg.

  Both men answered negatively to this specific inquiry.

  “Isn’t it true that you were taken off patrol duty, specifically for this prostitution sting?”

  “Yes,” both men answered.

  “Normally you would be in a patrol car cruising for criminals and helping protect citizens, isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes,” both men answered.

  Next up was the sound technician who testified to the validity of the recording. His was mostly technical testimony and Marc had no questions for him.

  The final witness was the policewoman decoy, Officer Jennifer Hall. Even in a cop’s uniform with little makeup and her hair done up in a bun, she was still an attractive young woman. Five feet ten, slender dark blonde hair, the twenty-six year-old made all of the male jurors sit up and pay attention.

  It was during her testimony that the jurors heard the recording. There was no ambiguity about it all. The first voice was that of the policewoman and all she said to entice Larry was a soft hello. The two of them chatted for maybe fifteen seconds about the weather then Larry clearly blurted out the question.

  “Is fifty bucks enough for a blow job?”

  The officer asked to see the money and the recording was clear that both the decoy cop and Larry verbally acknowledged that he showed it to her as an offer. The remainder of the recording was mostly Larry being arrested and read his rights. Bicknell quickly finished Hall’s direct-exam after that and turned her over to Marc.

  Before Marc asked his first question a deputy wheeled a large, flat screen TV into the courtroom. He placed it in front of the jury box so the jurors would have a clear view of it.

  “Officer Hall,” Marc began, “I notice you’re in your police uniform today and your hair is done up in a bun. Is that how you were dressed and how your hair was styled on the day of my client’s arrest?”

  “No,” she answered. “I wouldn’t make a very good decoy standing there in a police uniform.”

  This remark elicited a hearty laugh from the people in attendance and Marc smiled also.

  “Probably not,” he agreed. He picked up the TV remote the
deputy had placed on his table and clicked the power button. On the screen was the picture of the way she looked on the day of the arrest.

  “Is this how you looked that day?” The difference was stunning. She barely looked like the same person.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “I must say, you look like a very attractive hooker, would you agree?”

  “Objection to the use of the pejorative, hooker,” Bicknell said trying to draw attention away from the TV.

  “Overruled,” Judge Gilbert said.

  “That’s the whole idea,” Hall defiantly answered.

  “I have nothing further, your Honor,” Marc said leaving her picture up on the TV screen.

  Bicknell thought for a moment about a redirect but decided the picture didn’t hurt his case. He rested ending the prosecution’s presentation.

  Larry tugged on Marc’s coat sleeve and whispered in his ear. “I want to testify.”

  Judge Gilbert ordered a short break before Marc could respond.

  The jury was led out for a bathroom break and Marc took Larry into a small conference room.

  “I want to testify,” Larry repeated after the door closed.

  “Why?” Marc said.

  “I don’t know,” Larry said. “It, well, looks like fun.”

  “Fun! This isn’t a game. If the judge thinks you’re playing games she’ll nail your ass. Besides, what will you say? ‘I saw this really hot chick hooker on the corner and I got really, really horny?’ I don’t think so!”

  “It’s my right to testify and…”

  “No! This one time you are going to listen to me. You cannot do yourself any good on that witness stand.”

  “What will you say to them in your closing?” a chastened Larry asked.

  “I have something I’ll try. We’ll see if it works, but you’re not getting on that witness stand and that’s final.”

  “Okay,” Larry sullenly agreed.

  Earl Bicknell, the prosecutor, was first up to give his closing argument. Believing he had a slam dunk conviction, Bicknell kept it short and simple. He led the jury through the pertinent testimony of each of his witnesses and a summary of the law regarding the solicitation of prostitutes.