Blood Defense (Samantha Brinkman Book 1)

by Marcia Clark

  I forced a calm expression and looked directly into the lens. “There is no truth to the charge whatsoever. The accuser is a prostitute who hoped to extort money from Dale.” The other reporters came running and were gathering around me, mikes held out in front of them. “I’m frankly disgusted by the cheap, underhanded tactics employed by the prosecution in leaking this bogus charge. It just shows how desperate they are. And they should be. Dale Pearson is innocent, and we will not let this smear campaign stop us from proving it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to court.”

  They shouted questions at me as I sidestepped through the crowd, but I’d given them enough of a sound bite for now. I wanted to save the rest for court. As I pushed in through the door, I saw Edie near the elevators. She waved to me and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

  Brittany ran up to me. “Samantha, this is terrible. You must be devastated. If you want more airtime, just let me know, okay?”

  “Thanks, we’ll see what happens.”

  This time I didn’t take the stairs. I wanted to save my energy for the fight. So I squeezed into the ever-packed, slow-moving elevator, and by the time it reached my floor, I was in full boil. I stomped into court, ready to rip flesh from bone. I didn’t even look at Zack. I didn’t trust myself not to throw something at him. I was glad to see that the courtroom had a fair number of reporters. They were going to get their money’s worth today.

  Which was too bad for Judge William Tollinberg. People liked to say he was “gentlemanly.” But it was just a nice way of saying he was a pussy. When lawyers push the envelope—a near-daily occurrence—it’s up to the judge to rein them in. But Judge Tollinberg had no stomach for it. When the fur started to fly, he ducked. So I knew I’d get to swing freely, and I was planning to take full advantage of it.

  The minute he called the case, I burst out of the gate like Secretariat.

  “Your Honor, I told my client to waive his appearance because he doesn’t need to witness this shameful day for our system of justice. I’ve seen a lot of dirty tricks in my time, but what the prosecution has just pulled is probably the sleaziest. This charge was so bogus the victim herself wouldn’t back it up. The deliberate leaking of a totally unfounded rape charge is much more than outrageous. It’s a deliberate sabotage of Dale Pearson’s right to due process and a fair trial. I’m moving for a dismissal of all charges. Barring that, I want the prosecutor sanctioned for this despicable smear campaign!”

  When Zack stood up, his face was red. He bounced the end of his pen on his legal pad, his lips pulled tight. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Your Honor . . .” He cleared his throat. “Your Honor, while I can well understand why counsel’s upset, that does not give her the right to go throwing around baseless accusations. I did not leak that rape report, and I don’t know who did. I think it’s ironic that counsel calls it a smear campaign, because that’s exactly what she’s just launched by accusing me without any facts to back it up—”

  I jumped to my feet. “No facts? Who else has access to confidential personnel files? Who else has the motive to taint the jury pool?”

  Lawyers are never supposed to directly address one another in court—we talk to the judge and, on occasion, the jury. But Zack lost it. He turned to face me and fired back. “Obviously someone besides me!”

  “Then you should welcome an investigation!”

  “I do welcome an investigation. And while we’re at it, we should find out why Jenny Knox didn’t show up for her IA interview.”

  Finally, about ten clicks too late, the judge held up a hand. “Now counsel, you’re both officers of the court, and I know you’re aware of your ethical duties—”

  But I wasn’t done yet. “Your Honor, Zack Chastain obviously doesn’t think he has any ethical duties. It’s not enough to sanction him. He should be removed from this case!”

  Zack’s eyes narrowed with fury, and his face flushed an even brighter red. “If anyone should be removed, it’s Samantha Brinkman. She’s obviously too close to this case. She can’t be professional. After all, it’s her father—”

  “That’s a disgusting, cheap shot—”

  The bang of the gavel cut me off. It was probably the first time in the judge’s career he’d ever used it. I thought I saw his hand shaking. The bailiff’s mouth hung open.

  Judge Tollinberg’s voice was strained, but I could see real anger in his pale-blue eyes. “No one’s getting taken off this case. But I do not approve of these personal attacks. I will expect written apologies to the court from both of you, and I want them in my hands by five o’clock this evening.” He looked from me to Zack. “However, this is a serious breach, Mr. Chastain. I’m ordering the sheriff’s department to look into the leak. In the meantime, Ms. Brinkman, my clerk tells me you have discovery matters to take up?”

  I appreciated him ordering the investigation, but it was the least he could do. And besides, the damage was done. The rape charge was all over the news. There was no way to un-ring that bell—other than to prove it was a lie.

  “Thank you, Your Honor. Yes, I do. I want the victims’ cell-phone records, the downloads from their laptops, and their navigational systems’ records—”

  Zack cut in, his voice cold. “We’re working on it, Your Honor. It may take a little while.”

  I glared at Zack. “I remind the prosecution that we’re not waiving time. We want the preliminary hearing and trial set within the statutory limit.”

  The judge nodded. “Mr. Chastain, how long will it take you to get those records to Ms. Brinkman?”

  “I probably can’t get all those records before the preliminary hearing.” Zack stared down at his legal pad for a moment. “But Ms. Brinkman won’t have to worry about discovery for the moment. I’m going to scrap the preliminary hearing altogether and take this case to the grand jury instead.” He glared at me. “Since Ms. Brinkman’s in such a hurry, that should move things along a little faster.”

  I returned his glare. “It figures Mr. Chastain would prefer to put on his evidence in secret, where he doesn’t have to worry about a judge throwing out this feeble excuse for a case—”

  Zack shot me a dagger. “Feeble excuse? This is a slam dunk, no-brainer—”

  The judge banged his gavel again. He had the expression of someone who’s slipping out of the saddle on a horse that’s galloping at full speed. “Ms. Brinkman, is there anything else?”

  “Other than putting a stop to the smear campaign? No.”

  “Then we’ll be in recess.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Reporters had gathered downstairs, but I’d had my say in court—and then some. When I got outside, I gave a shortened version of my earlier statement, adding only that I was “confident the jury would know better than to be swayed by these underhanded tactics.”

  Edie and Brittany waved to me, but I wanted to get out of there. I waved back and pointed to Xander, who was idling at the curb. As I made my way toward the car, Trevor came up and spoke to me in a low voice. “Why didn’t you come to me first with the story about your father?”

  “Sorry, Trevor. I just thought it was more of a face-time story. I promise you’ll get the next one.”

  He gave me a measuring look. “What’ll you give me if I find out who leaked?”

  If I could prove Zack was the leak, it’d really hurt his credibility. That wouldn’t necessarily be a game changer. But with a case this tough, every little bit helped. The only problem was, I didn’t really have anything to trade yet. “Get me the information and we’ll talk.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  I got into the car. Xander slowly pulled away. “I watched you on my phone. You’re having quite the day.” He pulled into the left-turn lane.

  “Yeah.” I sighed, thinking he didn’t know the half of it. “Thanks for driving me, Xander. At least I get to suffer in style. Is this helping your business any?”

  “Not yet, but I’m sure it will.”

  Alex and Michelle were watch
ing the news on the television in my office when I got back. Alex gave me a thumbs-up. “You really reamed that prosecutor—”

  “And that was nice work with the press,” Michelle said.

  I set down my briefcase. “How’d Zack do with the reporters?”

  Michelle sighed. “Unfortunately, pretty well. Said he had no idea who would’ve leaked that report, and he hopes the guilty party is caught immediately, blah, blah, blah. But he sold it.”

  I glanced at the screen and saw a reporter standing on the courthouse steps. They’d be chewing on this story all night. “You sure you’re not just a sucker for a pretty face?”

  “Oh, I most definitely am. But so is your jury pool.”

  Unfortunately, true. I turned to Alex. “What’d you think?”

  Alex gave me an apologetic look. “I agree. Sorry. What can you do about him going to the grand jury? Can you object?”

  “No, but I don’t want to.”

  Michelle’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t? But the grand jury always indicts. A judge might—”

  “Dismiss?” I asked. Michelle nodded. “No friggin’ way. It’s a solid case, and most of the testimony is going to come from experts talking about DNA and fingerprints. Janet’s the only civilian they’ll call, and a nuclear bomb couldn’t shake her testimony. So all a prelim does is get the bad stuff out there where the jury pool can chew on it for the next couple of months. A grand jury keeps it quiet.”

  Michelle deadpanned, “Unless there’s a leak.” She saw my expression. “Too soon?”

  Alex stood up and put on his jacket. “I’m on my way to go talk to Dale.”

  “Just in case you can’t get a decent address for that tweaker, have Dale tell you where he busted him. He might still be hanging around there—”

  “You want me to talk to the tweaker if I find him?” I nodded. “How am I supposed to get him to talk to me?”

  “Michelle, give him a twenty.” Dale’s retainer check had cleared, so I’d replenished our slush fund. She fished out the bill and gave it to him. “And give him my card. You’ve got some, right?” Alex shook his head. Michelle gave him a stack. “Always keep these on you. It’s a nice carrot for guys like that.” I wouldn’t necessarily represent him if he called, but he didn’t have to know that.

  Alex tucked the cards into his jacket pocket. “Any chance I can get some of my own cards? It’d give me a little more credibility.”

  Michelle nodded. “Already ordered. Should be ready for pickup in a couple of days.”

  The cards couldn’t say he was licensed, but that wouldn’t be much of a problem. Most people don’t really look.

  Alex smiled. “Thanks, Michy.” He started for the door, then turned back. “If I find Jenny, do you want me to talk to her?”

  “No. Hold off on that one. We need to do it together.” That would be a tricky interview. If Dale was telling the truth about her, she was a dangerous person to tangle with. I didn’t need the state bar investigating me for some bullshit charge that I’d threatened or pressured her. “But find out where she lives, see if you can find people who know her, and get them talking.”

  “Got it.”

  I looked at his khaki pants and navy-blue blazer. “And for God’s sake, change into something grungier. Put some street on your back.”

  Alex made a face. “Fine.”

  “We don’t have a lot of time to waste on this rape charge. So get done what you can today and report back.”

  After he’d left, I told Michelle about my phone call with Celeste—and that it’d been my last. I hadn’t been sure if I’d be able to talk about it. I’d thought I’d be too upset. But I wasn’t. I’m not saying I was in the mood to light fireworks or lead a conga line. I was just . . . at peace.

  When I finished, Michelle gave me a long hug, then stood back and gave me a searching look. “I’ve been hoping to hear you say this for years. She’s poison. I can’t remember you ever coming off a phone call or a visit with her that didn’t leave you feeling like shit.”

  No question about that. “But shouldn’t I be at least a little torn up about this? I feel kinda okay with it.”

  “Like you stopped beating your head against the wall?”

  I smiled. “A little bit, yeah. But still . . .”

  “Look, you might feel lousy at some point, but if you do, it’ll only be because you finally admitted that you never had anything close to a real mother.” Michelle put her hands on her hips. “Or it’ll be a guilt trip, which I will not allow.”

  I owed Michelle so much. She was a friend like no other, and I loved her like a sister. But that thought brought me to the likely repercussions of cutting off Celeste. “Her friends are going to think I’m the monster. So will Jack.” I didn’t like most of her friends, so that was no loss. But my stepfather had saved me from myself when I was going down the drain in high school. I’d only wished he’d met Celeste sooner. “For some reason, no one else ever seems to see her ugly side.”

  Michelle frowned. “I’m not sure that’s true, but think about what you just said. If her friends don’t get the same treatment, what does that tell you? She chooses to treat you the way she does. And I disagree about Jack. He’s a good guy and a smart guy. He’ll get that you must’ve had a damn good reason for doing it. And you have no idea what he’s seen. He might know more than you think. After all, she lives with him. It’s harder to keep up a good act with the person who shares your bathtub.”

  I covered my ears. “Ick. Thanks for that.”

  We laughed, and after a few minutes, we got back to work.

  I still had the rest of my caseload to worry about, so I dug out my files and got to work. I was halfway through a sentencing memo when Michelle buzzed me.

  “Remember our buddy Ricardo Orozco?”

  The gangbanging asshole murderer. “Wish I could say no.”

  “His father wants to make an appointment.”

  I thought about it for a moment. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “No. Want me to tell him you’re not taking any new cases?”

  I shook my head. “Go ahead and make the appointment.”

  Michelle said she would, and I went back to my sentencing memo.

  It was seven thirty by the time Alex got back. It’d been his first day operating on his own, and I could see he’d loved it. When he sat down in my office, his expression was serious, but his eyes were shining. And he’d taken my fashion advice to heart: his jeans were sagging, his T-shirt looked like it’d been used at a car wash, and his Converse sneakers had no laces. “Nice threads, man. Way to blend.”

  Alex glanced down at his clothes like they were made of roadkill. “They’re not mine. I borrowed them from my sister’s boyfriend’s kid brother.”

  “Whatever. It worked, didn’t it?” Alex nodded reluctantly. “So what’ve you got?”

  THIRTY

  Alex pulled a notepad out of his pants pocket. “The desk sergeant who was on duty that night wasn’t around. But Dale told me where he’d busted the tweaker, so I went there and pretended I was looking to score. And you were right; he was in the same place Dale busted him—on Hollywood Boulevard in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. He was dressed up like Luke Skywalker, posing for pictures with the tourists.”

  A lot of speed freaks made their money that way. While they were putting an arm around Susie from Dayton, Ohio, and smiling for the camera, they were slipping a hand into her purse and stealing her wallet. “Did Dale tell you why he busted the guy?” Dale worked homicide, not petty street crimes.

  “Dale got him—his name is Flip, by the way—on a failure to appear on a jaywalking ticket. But the real reason was because Flip was an eyewitness to a drive-by, and he’d been dodging the detectives.”

  “So what’d Flip tell you?”

  “Turns out he and Jenny bonded a little when they were in jail. Her pimp wouldn’t bail her out because he caught her skimming. So he dumped her and she had no place to stay. Flip said she could
crash with him at”—Alex thumbed a page in his notepad—“Hotel Washington on Sunset Boulevard just off Coronado Terrace.”

  “She was scamming her pimp? That sounds promising.” If she had the balls to do that, she might’ve had the balls to try and shake Dale down, too.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. So I headed over there and pretended to be looking for my connection.”

  “An inspired choice, Alex.”

  He dipped his head. “Thank you. The book says sometimes you have to—”

  “Just tell me what you got.”

  “It’s a good book, Samantha; you should check it out.” I stared at him. He sighed and continued. “I found a guy who used to be friends with Jenny.” He looked down at his notepad again. “He calls himself Bozo—no last name—but I think I can find him again. He’s been there for a couple of years. He said she liked to talk about the scams she’d pulled down in Orange County. He wasn’t sure how much of it was true. But she also told him she’d figured out a way to make big bucks off the county.”

  I sat up. “As in, by claiming she got raped by a cop?”

  “Almost. Said she knew a girl down in Orange County who’d been roughed up by a cop and sued the department. They wound up settling for fifteen thousand. Jenny said she wanted to get in on a sweet deal like that.”

  I sat up. This was sounding better and better. “Oh yeah, baby. So how come he ‘used to’ be friends with her? She move away?”

  “More likely ran away. Jenny ripped him off. The last night he saw her, they were hanging out in his room. He was getting high; she was drinking—”

  “What was he using?”

  “Oxy.”

  “Oxy? Pretty high rent for that bunch.”

  Alex nodded. “Which is why he was so pissed. He’d scored the pills—well, actually, stolen them—from his sister. She had a prescription because of a car accident. Anyway, Bozo nodded off, and when he woke up, his stash was gone and so was Jenny. He hasn’t seen her since.”