Legal Reserves

by James Rosenberg

  “You two think you’re so tough, but you’re just posers. You’ve both been given everything.”

  Jeri saw that the exchange was becoming heated and approached. “Boys, play nice. Let’s get out of here.”

  “But we were just having fun with our friend John,” Mike said. “He wants to join us when we go out tonight.”

  “Yeah, John’s getting a beer with us, aren’t you John?”

  Jeri stood in between the boys. “I’m sure John already has plans. Let’s just leave and let him finish his studying.”

  Jack and Mike looked at each other, straightened up, and then headed off towards the staircase. Once they were outside, Jeri gave her friends a stern look. “You guys have to stop doing stuff like that.”

  “We were just having fun,” Jack replied.

  “C’mon boys, it’s actually time that you grow up.”

  They walked down the sidewalk towards their apartment building in silence.

  Chapter 3

  May 8, 2014−One year after graduation from law school

  THE COURTROOM WAS teeming with activity. In the front rows, families huddled in clusters waiting for their loved ones to face the charges the government pursued. Off to the sides, two groups of attorneys, all dressed in suits, held stacks of papers and waited patiently. A few solitary individuals sat alone in the back rows.

  Picking up a file from the pile on the table in front of the judge, the tipstaff called out a case. A young assistant district attorney appeared from the group of attorneys to prosecute the case. A public defender approached with his client from the back of the courtroom. The judge took the file and after a moment’s review instructed the DA to begin.

  Jeri watched the proceedings with detached interest from among the assistant district attorneys. She thumbed through the file for her next case, waiting for it to be called.

  “Hey good looking,” said a pleasant voice, momentarily startling her. “You checking out your boyfriend?”

  “Oh, hi Cara. What the hell are you talking about?” Jeri asked.

  “Mahon, I think our judge has a little crush on you.”

  Jeri laughed, closed her file and turned her attention to her co-worker. “And what would make you come to such a conclusion?”

  “Everybody’s saying it. You never lose in front of him. He’s captivated by you. He sees you and bam, the defendant is guilty.”

  “Cara, none of us lose in front of Mahon. He’s a prosecutor’s dream. He doesn’t worry much about burden of proof. If he doesn’t like the way the defendant looks, he’s going to rule against him.”

  “I don’t know Jeri, I do fine in front of him, but you’ve never lost one case with him as judge.” Cara lowered her head to look over her glasses into Jeri’s eyes. Jeri turned away.

  “Cara, I’m doing the DUI’s. Any monkey can win those cases. All I have to do is show that the defendant was driving, get the officer to testify about the blood alcohol test, and I’ve proven my case. Not real hard.”

  “Did you see that article in the Post-Gazette yesterday about Mahon?”

  Jeri shook her head, allowing Cara to continue. “Ninety-eight percent of people who go to trial in front of Mahon he finds guilty. Minorities make up a disproportionate number of the defendants. None of them have any money, so they all have to use the public defenders. They are good attorneys, they have a ton of principle, but they are so overworked they can’t represent their clients properly.”

  “Plus,” Jeri added, “a lot of their clients are actually guilty.”

  Cara nodded in agreement. “Some PD was quoted saying that Mahon doesn’t even get the concept of presumption of innocence. In his courtroom, everyone is assumed to be guilty unless they are proven innocent. Mahon’s not going to like that. That PD better hope Mahon doesn’t find out who said it.”

  “He may be tough on defendants, but the people of the county seem to love him. He won his last retention election by the biggest margin ever.”

  “I know. He’s going to be on the bench for a long time.”

  Cara stopped talking for a moment, checking out Jeri from head to toe. “I don’t know girl, looking at you it looks like you are dressing for someone. Nice tight, but professional skirt. Blouse absolutely wrinkle-free. Even your hair looks better today−I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bun that tight. Are you sure you aren’t trying to impress our hot judge?”

  “Yes, Cara, I’m sure. Generally, I don’t go for fat, balding, middle-aged men with little to no personality.” Jeri stopped and began to whisper even more quietly. “Didn’t you hear? Corcoran’s supposedly coming to the courtroom to check us out.”

  “No shit, I didn’t know that. Are you sure?”

  “I hope so. I need to move divisions. It’s getting a little old prosecuting DUI’s day after day. I want to move up and start working on the real crimes. Get some of that scum off of the street. Do I look appropriate?”

  Cara leaned closer to Jeri. “Absolutely, you look perfect. You know he’s always looking for talent and he’s good at spotting it. I heard he once fired some young DA after seeing him ask just two questions of a witness.”

  “Damn, that’s rough. Now I’m worried. I better look at this file a little closer so I make sure I can impress him.”

  Jeri picked up and opened the file. It took her about a minute to determine the facts of a file and to place it within the rubric she utilized to try her cases. In this one, like many of her other DUI’s, the patrolling officer had witnessed the defendant driving erratically. The officer administered a field sobriety test, which the defendant failed. Later a blood alcohol test revealed an alcohol level well over the legally allowable limit.

  Just as Jeri finished her review, the bailiff announced, “Commonwealth v. Anderson, all persons having an interest in this matter, please approach.”

  Jeri walked to the designated area in front of the judge to deliver her opening statement. “Your Honor, the Commonwealth will prove Mr. Anderson knowingly drove his vehicle while intoxicated. We will demonstrate his blood alcohol exceeded the legal limit by a significant amount. We will seek the maximum penalty for Mr. Anderson.”

  Judge Mahon didn’t bother making eye contact with either of the attorneys. “Does the defense care to give an opening statement at this time?”

  The public defender, a freshly minted lawyer who looked like he should be studying for his freshman calculus exam, had arrived at the table where Mr. Anderson sat only moments before the trial began. They hadn’t met before. The PD, nameless to his client, fumbled with the file, attempting to review it as Jeri gave her opening statement.

  “Your Honor, the defense will reserve its opening until after the Commonwealth completes its case.”

  “Very well, the prosecution may proceed.”

  “Thank you. The State calls Officer Yan Gomez.” The patrolman took the witness stand next to the judge and was sworn in. Jeri jumped right in.

  “Officer, please tell the court what happened on the evening of May sixth.”

  The police officer held his report close to his face to review it, and stated, “My partner and I were on routine patrol in the Sheridan area. We were situated off the side of the road when we noticed Mr. Anderson’s vehicle being driven in an erratic manner. We eased into traffic and began to follow. The car proceeded to drive over the center line on three occasions. I turned on my flashing lights and pulled the vehicle over. When I approached, Mr. Anderson was in the driver’s seat. When he responded to my questions, he slurred his words. I noticed his eyes were glassy and I smelled alcohol on his breath. I asked him if he had been drinking, He responded, ‘yes’.”

  “Please continue officer,” Jeri instructed.

  “I got him out of the vehicle and administered a field sobriety test. He couldn’t touch his finger to his nose, he stumbled when I asked him to stand on one foot, and he c
ouldn’t walk on the white line painted on the side of the road. I placed him in handcuffs, read him his Miranda rights and drove him to the station. Another officer administered a blood alcohol test which reported an alcohol level of point zero one three percent.”

  “Thank you, patrolman, I have no further questions.” Jeri turned the cop over for cross-examination, having completed her examination by asking only one question and adding one “please continue.”

  While cross-examining the officer, the young public defender attempted to confuse him on his identification of the driver of the vehicle and on the record keeping for the blood alcohol testing. Gomez had testified for dozens of DUI arrests and understood the potential pitfalls. The PD was unable to alter the officer’s testimony.

  Jeri rested her case, assuming Mahon would convict the young man. In her brief experience, nothing more of significance would occur, as the defendant and his attorney recognized the looming conviction. The young public defender, after giving a brief opening statement claiming he would prove the defendant’s innocence, surprised Jeri and called the defendant to take the stand.

  The defendant sat in the witness box next to and slightly lower than the judge’s imposing seat, his appearance suggesting a mixture of cocky and overwhelmed. In response to his attorney’s questions, Anderson admitted to driving impaired, but claimed he chose to do it only because his friend was more drunk. He also said he knew he would arrive safely because he had previous experience operating his vehicle while intoxicated. Finally, he testified that the office lied on the stand and never offered him his Miranda warning, nor did the officer give him a field sobriety test.

  Judge Mahon did not pay much attention or listen to Anderson’s excuses as he testified. Jeri, however, saw the rare chance to cross-examine a defendant and wanted to demonstrate her skills.

  She began, “Mr. Anderson, you knew you were drunk when you got into the car, didn’t you?”

  “Probably, but I was worried about my friend.”

  “Did you give one thought to anyone else on the road?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Did you think about the elderly woman who might be crossing the street?”

  “No,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

  “Did you think about the mom pushing her baby in a stroller?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “You didn’t think about anything but getting home, did you? You didn’t think of taking an Uber?” Jeri’s voice increased in volume.

  “I am sorry, I didn’t.”

  “Sir, you admit you have driven many times before while impaired?”

  “Not really,” Anderson stammered, trying to make eye contact with Jeri, but unable to hold her gaze.

  “You said during your direct examination you knew you could drive home safely because you did it before.”

  “I didn’t mean I did that a lot.”

  “Yet you attempt to impugn the reputation of patrolman Gomez. Are you aware he is a distinguished police officer doing his job?”

  “No,” Anderson said, steadily shrinking in his seat.

  “Sir, how many times have you driven drunk before?”

  Judge Mahon finally started to take an interest in the courtroom proceedings, interrupting before Anderson answered. “Ms. Richards, why are you getting into that area of questioning?”

  Mahon pointed at the public defender, not able to remember his name. “Please object to these questions. We are on the verge of creating appeal issues and that’s the last thing we want to happen.” He sneered and pointed at Jeri. “Ms. Richards, do you have any more for this witness?”

  Jeri, recognizing she had gone too far, stepped back. “Nothing further, Your Honor.”

  Judge Mahon did not delay issuing his ruling. “Upon review of the evidence, the court finds Mr. Anderson guilty of DUI. Sentence to be imposed at a future date.”

  Jeri returned to the group of assistant district attorneys to await her next case. A tall man with short, jet-black hair, olive skin and an impeccably tailored suit walked deliberately over to her wearing a concerned expression.

  “Jeri, can I have a word with you?

  “Sure Alan, what’s up?” Jeri responded nervously. “Did you like my cross-examination?”

  Alan Corcoran stared directly into Jeri’s dark eyes. Jeri found it difficult to hold his gaze.

  Corcoran kept his eyes locked on Jeri. “You might want your convictions, but remember you represent the people of the Commonwealth also. You had your case won, and there was no reason to cross-examine the defendant in the manner you did. You almost lost the conviction by going too far.”

  “The defendant took the stand and I took the opportunity to question him,” Jeri said.

  “Listen, my job for the DA is to find talent to prosecute the real cases. The DUI’s are crimes, but as far as I am concerned they are training for the nastier criminals who rape and murder. Remember, you represent all the people of the Commonwealth. Even if someone is accused of a crime, don’t trample him. Everybody, even those who violate the law, deserve respect. Don’t go too far.”

  A familiar tingling under Jeri’s left eye reappeared. Corcoran’s criticism shocked her. “I am trying to convict people.”

  “I understand. You have tremendous talent as a prosecutor, but you need to learn balance. Save the anger for the right cases. I’ve seen you now a couple of times let anger overcome you while questioning a witness. You need to maintain control and not let your personal issues get in the way. There are enough scumbags for you to go after. Guys like your last defendant aren’t in the same category. He made a mistake. Go for the conviction, but use it as an opportunity to educate rather than to demonstrate your superiority.”

  Jeri recognized the merit of her superior’s argument. “I understand, Alan. I will think about it.”

  “I have my eye on you Jeri. You have a ton of potential. I don’t want whatever unresolved feelings roiling around inside of you to squash it. You can go far. Trust me.”

  Corcoran turned away to speak with another assistant DA. Jeri stood with one hand in her pocket, happy some decent people were looking out for her.

  Chapter 4

  May 16, 2013−Third Year of Law School

  A SENSE OF JUBILATION consumed the law school students as they poured out of the last scheduled final examinations. For the first-year students, this marked the first time in nine months the overwhelming pressure subsided. For the students taking finals in their third year, this was the last time they would have to cram for exams, creating a sense of completion and an expectant look to the future.

  Mike Reigert sat on the bench outside of the classroom stuffing his books into his backpack. He fidgeted until he spied Jeri leaving the exam, the last student out of the room. Jeri sauntered over to him, a huge smile on her face.

  “We’re done,” she announced.

  Mike looked at her with a weak grin. “Why so glum?” Jeri asked. “No more finals. Ever.”

  Mike took a moment to react, wiping some imaginary smudge from his pants. “I liked law school. I knew where I had to be. I had you to take care of me. I had Jack to raise hell with. Now I’m going to have to take care of myself.”

  “Dude, you know exactly where you are going to be. Geneva. Fighting international crime. Right?”

  “It’s not so certain anymore.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Mike paused, organizing his thoughts. “Let’s put it this way: things are evolving. You knew you wanted to be an assistant district attorney pretty much starting in second year. You interned there, you met the right people, and you got that job.”

  Jeri nodded and added, “Of course, I want to get scum off the street, but what does that have to do with you?”

  “I don’t know…you and Jack always had a plan. Jack made Law Review and told everyone that he
was going to work for a big firm and make lots of money, which is exactly what he’s going to do.” Mike stood with his backpack and motioned for Jeri to follow him outside.

  The two friends started walking down the street, leaving the law school behind. Mike continued talking. “I would love to make lots of money like Jack, but I didn’t make Law Review and the big firms never seemed too interested in me. The job in Geneva would be great, but now something else has come up.”

  Jeri stopped and turned to Mike. “What’s come up Mike?”

  “You remember my Uncle Stan?”

  Jeri smiled. “Of course, he took us out drinking first year. He’s been to your apartment a few times. He’s kind of cute, for an older guy.”

  “That’s gross Jeri. He’s old enough to be your father.” Jeri smiled to signal Mike she wasn’t interested in his uncle. Mike continued. “My aunt died before we started law school and he called me last week to tell me that his law partner just died. He says he has a bunch of cases going to trial and he needs some help. He asked me to come and work with him.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Uncle Stan has always been there for me when I needed him. When my parents split up, he made sure that we were okay. I want to help him, but that would mean missing out on Geneva.”

  Jeri pondered the problem for a moment and asked, “Is there anything positive about going to work with him?”

  “Well, he lives close to here, so I will get to see you more. I certainly would get more experience handling files myself and would probably get into court a lot more often. Plus, I would be helping him out.”

  “How well will he pay you?”

  “That’s open for discussion, but it wouldn’t be close to what Jack will make at Carlton and Sanders in Chicago. I think Jack’s going to have to take us to dinner when he comes to visit.”

  “Jack will enjoy knowing he’s making more than the two of us combined,” Jeri added.