[The Advocate 04.0] The Advocate's Dilemma

by Teresa Burrell

  JP reciprocated, shaking his hand. “JP Torn. I’ve seen you around the courthouse but I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. However, your reputation precedes you. Nice to meet you.”

  “My reputation? Professional or social?”

  Just then Bob walked in.

  JP paused. “I was speaking professionally, but you are definitely loved by the women.”

  Leahy smiled a devilish smile. “Please tell me. Is it good or bad? My reputation, that is. Is it good or bad?”

  “Good, I’d say,” JP said.

  “Ah, Mr. Leahy’s reputation,” Bob said. “Let me tell you what that is. Have a seat.” JP and Jerry sat down. Bob walked behind his desk and sat down as he continued his description. “You are known as the ‘Columbo’ of juvenile court….Very clever, but you don’t flaunt it and as a result your abilities are deceptive, especially to those who don’t know you, and consequently you are often underestimated. You can go into a courtroom on a case with very few facts or little information and still know exactly what to do. You’ve been practicing over twenty years, which means you’re seasoned, but unlike many attorneys in your position who have seen just about every scenario and have long since become stale in their defense tactics, you approach each case like it’s your first.” Bob paused. “How am I doing so far?”

  “Great,” Leahy said. “Keep it coming.”

  “You’re good natured, helpful, and a charmer with the ladies. I can’t see the attraction myself, but JP is right, the women love you. It must be that Irish charm.”

  JP said. “Yup, I’ve heard you’re smoother than a sun possum’s belly, both in the courtroom and out.”

  Leahy laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been described quite like that before, but I think it was a compliment.” Still looking at Bob, Leahy moved his head to the side gesturing towards JP. “Your friend here just called me ‘smooth’ while he compared me to the underside of a rodent and yet he left me feeling flattered. Now that’s what I call ‘smooth.’”

  “You were just hit with a ‘JPism,’” Bob said.

  When they stopped laughing, JP said, “Well I’m just glad to see you’re helping Bob. Sabre speaks highly of you and that’s enough for me.”

  “Now there’s a woman,” Leahy said, looking directly at JP.

  JP’s face turned a little red.

  “Is she…are you…?”

  Bob interrupted Leahy. “Yeah, he’s smitten with her. But he won’t admit it to himself or her. I keep telling him he’s an idiot. He needs to make his move before he’s too old to hear her response without a hearing aid.”

  “My friend, you’ve got tongue enough for ten rows of teeth.” JP said, his face reddening. “How about if we talk about Foreman now?”

  Bob explained his situation to Leahy. He told him about his meetings with Dana, his client, and the mishap with George in Sabre’s office when George became angry when he was asked to leave. He explained George’s obsession with his wife and his jealousy, how Sabre found the body in her office, and Klakken’s questioning which left him feeling vulnerable and a little ticked off.

  JP filled in details about Sammy and other possible suspects. And he added, “I don’t trust Dana Foreman. My take on her is that she’s been using her looks for many years to manipulate people.”

  Jerry listened without interruption. Then he asked Bob two questions. “Do you know who killed him?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Was there any basis for Foreman’s jealousy of you?”

  “None.”

  “Okay, then. You now have an attorney. Here’s what you do. You can talk to the police, but only when I’m with you. Go about your business as if nothing were wrong. Continue to represent Dana Foreman. If you become an official suspect or if you are arrested, then you’ll obviously have to conflict off. But do not have any private meetings with her. It will only give them fodder for their jealousy theory.”

  Bob nodded.

  Jerry stood up and took a few steps toward the door, then turned back—not unlike Columbo—and said, “And, Bob, take this seriously. It’s potentially a nightmare.”

  “I will,” Bob said with conviction.

  “Now, I have to leave. I have a hot date with a pretty, young, Spanish interpreter.” He walked out the door.

  JP and Bob looked at one another and smiled, neither of them sure if he was yanking their chain.

  “Does Klakken really think you may have something to do with this?” JP asked

  “Between you and me, he has me worried,” Bob said.

  “What does he have, really?” JP asked and then answered his own question. “He has your fingerprint on a cigarette butt in the victim’s waistband. Which by itself doesn’t mean anything. You had a key to the building where he was killed, which you didn’t actually have because you lost it so it could be in anyone’s possession. You have an alleged affair with a married woman whose husband was obsessed with his wife and jealous of every man who came around her. You wouldn’t cross that line anyway. There’s no real motive, no real means, and it happened in the early morning hours. You and I both know you wouldn’t be up that early.” JP smiled. “So, you have an alibi. You were home with your wife and kid.”

  “That’s just it. I wasn’t home with my wife,” Bob said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Marilee and I had a fight and she took Corey and went to her sister’s house. I was alone that night.”

  Chapter 18

  Sabre stepped up to the information desk at Alvarado Hospital and asked for Kim Matlock. The receptionist said, “She had a family emergency and left early.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Sabre said. “I’m Sabre Brown, attorney for Marcus Foreman. We have a hearing here in about five minutes. Could you please direct me to the room or to someone who can help me?”

  The receptionist typed something on her keyboard and looked at her computer screen. “It looks like that hearing was canceled.”

  “Canceled? They wouldn’t cancel the hearing because the social worker left. Where is Marcus?”

  “It says here he was ‘released to the grandmother.’ I remember them now. The grandmother had to wait for Marcus to change out of the hospital issue garments. Sweet kid, Marcus. I’m sorry that you weren’t notified of his release.”

  Sabre shook her head. “It’s fine. I’m sure Kim would’ve called me if she hadn’t had an emergency. Please let her know that I hope everything is alright.”

  Sabre drove to La Jolla to check on Marcus in the home. She decided she wouldn’t call but instead make a surprise visit. She took Highway 56 across to the I-5 exit, only to get stuck in a long line of other vehicles waiting to enter I-5 North. There weren’t many things that annoyed Sabre more than sitting in traffic, and she was still irritated that she had driven to the hospital instead of the shorter drive to Marcus’ home. Exiting the freeway, she drove through a coffee kiosk that she had spotted a few days earlier. She ordered a decaf mocha, set it in the cup holder, and edged her way back onto the freeway.

  Sabre was frustrated because no one called her to let her know that the meeting had been canceled, but she also knew they were leaning toward releasing him and she should’ve known to call and check before she’d driven there. She continued to drive, sipping her coffee, starting and stopping in the traffic, thinking she should just go home, but decided she had gone this far and she really wanted to see Marcus.

  It was nearly six o’clock by the time she reached the grandparent’s home. She took a deep breath of clean ocean air as she stepped out of the car. The sun had just started to set, creating a spectacular view from the driveway and Sabre suspected from inside the home as well. She felt rejuvenated. This was her first visit to the home and it was as impressive as JP had described. She was anxious to see inside.

  Frank answered the door. “Hello, Sabre. Come on in. Were we expecting you?”

  Sabre stepped inside. “No. I went by the hospital an
d they said Marcus had been released so I came to see him and Riley. I hope I’m not interrupting your dinner or anything.”

  “No. We generally eat around 6:30. I’ll get Marcus. He’s in his room.”

  “Actually, I’d like to see him in his room if that’s alright.”

  Celia walked into the room carrying a glass of wine. “Celia, Sabre is here to see Marcus,” Frank said.

  Sabre and Celia exchanged greetings, and Frank continued toward the sunroom. “Riley,” he called. “Will you please take Ms. Brown upstairs to Marcus’ room?”

  Riley stepped out of the sunroom wearing khaki shorts and a surfer t-shirt. He looked like he belonged in this house, but she had a hard time picturing Marcus in this atmosphere.

  “Hi, Riley.”

  “Hello, Ms. Brown. Follow me.” He started up the stairs.

  “I’d like to speak to you as well, Riley. Can we do that after I finish with Marcus?”

  “Sure. My room is right here. Come when you’re finished.” He pointed to a door as they passed it. A few steps further down the hallway, he stopped. “This is his room.” He knocked, but no one answered. He knocked again.

  “Do you think he might be asleep?”

  “No. I was just in his room, like two minutes ago. We were playing a Nintendo game and talking, but he was acting like a goober so I quit and went downstairs.” He knocked again. Nothing.

  Sabre tried the door. It was unlocked. She opened it and stuck her head in. “Marcus,” she said. “It’s Sabre Brown, your attorney.” She didn’t hear anything and she couldn’t see him. She and Riley stepped inside. The room was simply but tastefully done. The bed was made and everything was in its place except for a few video games scattered around. The Nintendo Wii game still flashed on the television screen on the table in the corner. “Maybe he’s in the bathroom. Could you check?”

  Riley left and Sabre walked around the room. The closet door was partway open. She pulled the door the rest of the way and gasped. Then she screamed. Marcus was hanging from a bar in the closet, his feet not touching the floor. The crude yellow noose around his neck was made of a twisted polypropylene rope. He was a strange shade of blue—a frightening, gut-wrenching blue.

  “Marcus,” Sabre shouted. He was unresponsive.

  Riley ran in and Sabre stepped forward trying to shield him from this sight, but it was too late.

  “Oh my God!” Riley shouted. He stepped in closer to Marcus. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “Get Frank,” Sabre commanded. “And then call 9-1-1.”

  Sabre quickly shook off her feeling of helplessness and reached for Marcus, attempting to lift him and release the pressure on his neck. Frank must have heard her scream because he was there in about two seconds. He lifted Marcus up while Sabre slipped the rope over his head. Frank laid him on the floor and began CPR. Sabre felt Marcus’ pulse. It was weak but rapid. She wasn’t sure what that meant except that he was still alive.

  Celia ran into the room. “What’s going…Oh, no!” she screamed and Sabre saw her white coffee cup hit the carpeted floor and bounce, black liquid flying through the air and then settling on the cream-colored surface like the first splash of a paint brush on canvas. “No! No!” she screamed again and again.

  Riley stood beside his grandmother in silence like a statue with his hands over his mouth.

  “Riley, did you call 9-1-1?” Sabre yelled.

  He just stared at Marcus, not responding. Sabre stepped over to him, looked at him directly, put her hands on his shoulders, and said, “Riley?”

  He moved his head from side to side in quick, short movements. Sabre pulled her phone out of her pocket, moved closer to Marcus and Frank, and dialed 9-1-1.

  “Tell them it’s Frank Davis’ house,” Frank said between breaths.

  Celia continued to shriek until the sirens grew louder than her screams.

  “I’ll get the door,” Sabre said. She bolted downstairs and opened the door before the police knocked.

  “Where…?” One of the policemen started to ask.

  “Upstairs. Last door on the right,” Sabre said, pointing to the staircase before the policeman could finish. He ran upstairs.

  Someone asked her a question that she didn’t quite comprehend. Then she saw a tall, dark man—another uniformed officer—standing next to her in the doorway. “Ma’am,” he said.

  Sabre shook her head. She heard more sirens blare. “Yes.” she said.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Marcus tried to hang himself.”

  “Marcus?”

  “He’s only eleven.” Sabre saw more red lights flashing outside. A fire truck. And then more men in uniform, six of them, moving quickly up the walkway and into the house. They blurred past her. Another siren and more lights. Two paramedics emptied out of the white van, grabbing a stretcher and following directly behind the firemen.

  The policeman put a hand on Sabre’s shoulder and moved her out of their pathway. He directed them upstairs, then turned back to Sabre. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”

  Sabre watched them dash up the stairs. She felt like she was in a fog and couldn’t see clearly. She had to gain control. She took a deep breath.

  “His brother, Riley, took me to his room. I knocked on his door but he didn’t answer. I went inside and found him hanging in the closet.” She took another deep breath but it caught in her chest as she breathed and her body shuddered. She felt like crying, but there were no tears, just confusion.

  Two of the firemen came down the steps and walked outside.

  “Are you okay?” the officer asked.

  She breathed in again, this time inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry…I’ve never…I’m sorry. I’m fine.” She breathed a little easier now. The two firemen came back in carrying a second stretcher. She wondered if there was something wrong with the first one. Watching them climb the steps, Sabre continued to explain what she had seen earlier. “I screamed. When I saw him hanging there, I screamed. I tried to take him down, but I couldn’t. I was too little.”

  “Little?”

  She wondered herself why she used that word. It was such a strange choice of words. “I wasn’t strong enough, but Frank ran in, picked him up, and laid him on the floor.”

  A paramedic on each end of the stretcher and a fireman on each side carried Marcus down the steps. Sabre breathed deeply again. She had to be strong for Riley and Celia. “Will you take him to Children’s Hospital?” Sabre asked, as they passed her.

  “No, Scripps on Genesee is closer,” one of the paramedics said. They carried the stretcher out and into the white medical van.

  The second stretcher descended the stairs with the help of the other four firemen. This one carried Celia.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Sabre asked.

  One of them, a short man with a reddish face, responded. “I believe so.”

  Sabre was frustrated at herself for not being more calm. She prided herself in being rational in most situations, but the sight of Marcus had thrown her into a state of disorder. She could see more clearly now. All the figures passing by her had faces again.

  She felt her pocket for her keys. “May I leave? I want to go to the hospital.”

  “First I’d like you to go upstairs with me and show me what you saw,” the officer said.

  “Okay.” Sabre quickly ascended the stairs, the policeman close behind.

  When they walked into the room, Frank was talking to a policeman. Riley stood alone by the desk. Sabre walked over to Riley, put her arm around his shoulders, and squeezed tenderly. He leaned in for just a second and then straightened up. She let go.

  “I’m sorry,” Riley whispered. “I should’ve been with him.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Sabre said.

  “I called him a ‘goober,’” he said a little louder and left the room.

  The policeman who had come upstairs with her said, “Please show me what you saw.”

  Sabre walked over to t
he closet and pointed to the yellow rope still hanging from the bar. Clothes were pushed back on their hangers on either side. A new pair of bright orange tennis shoes lay in the corner. One of the shoes was on end against the wall, partly on top of the other, as if both had been thrown in. A one-step footstool was turned over on its side on the floor almost directly under the rope, the spot where Marcus hung just minutes before. Sabre shuddered at the thought.

  Frank approached with Riley at his side and said, “We need to go see my wife and grandson now, if you don’t mind.” He sounded so calm and professional, the way Sabre wanted to be right now. She wondered how he really felt. She had found herself in many situations where she kept calm in the storm and people asked her how she did it. Not this time. This time was different. He was just a child and she couldn’t help thinking that if she hadn’t stopped for coffee, she might have prevented the hanging.

  “I need to go as well,” Sabre said. She walked out of the room without waiting for a response. She had to see how Marcus was. She prayed that he was alive and hadn’t hurt himself too badly. She picked up her pace as she left the room, dashed down the steps, and went out the front door. She took her phone out of her pocket and called Bob before she was out of the house. He needed to contact his client. She felt sorry for Dana. Her husband was dead and now her son was in danger of losing his life. The phone rang three times.

  Sabre sprinted down the front steps and saw her car was blocked by the fire truck. The men were loading their equipment onto the truck. Bob’s voice mail picked up. She said hastily into the phone, “Call me,” and hung up. She yelled to the firemen, “I need to get to the hospital.” She sounded rude even to herself. She lowered her voice and pleaded, “Please.”

  Chapter 19

  Sabre was sitting in the waiting room of Scripps Hospital when Bob arrived with Dana. As soon as Dana spotted Sabre she yelled, “Where’s Marcus?”

  Sabre stood up and walked toward them. She could hear the fear in Dana’s voice.

  “I want to see Marcus,” Dana yelled, as she and Bob approached.