“It’s just . . .” His jaw worked up and down a few times. “I’ll talk to her,” he finally said. “I’ll make it right.”
“Good, because I can’t do that for you.”
“But if for some reason she’s not ready . . .”
“Teddy can’t put you up. Not with Tamara and the baby.”
“Leo—” Teddy began, then closed his mouth, realizing I was right.
I had an extra room at my place, which he possibly knew. But I didn’t want him living with me. It would be too near, too fast. It was one thing getting to know my father again after years of believing the worst about him. It was quite another to share a bathroom. I’d gotten used to living alone again after Teddy moved out.
He went on, his voice roughening. “There’s guys out there who would still be in here if not for what I did for them. Put up bail, too, if you’re telling me you don’t want to do that.”
“I’m not saying we don’t want to do anything.” I flushed, suddenly wishing I were almost anywhere else, wishing I hadn’t gotten into this. It demeaned all of us. I knew my brother would front the bail money in a second if asked, but Teddy had a family to worry about, and he couldn’t be financially liable for Lawrence’s bond.
He went on. “I know you pretty well, Leo, even though you and I haven’t said two words to each other in twenty years. You worried I’m going to run?”
He was behaving just as Dot had described him, taking the offensive rather than risking rejection. “That’s not what I’m telling you. Not at all.”
“I’ve got people who’ll post any bond that judge will set. I don’t need a handout.”
“There’s this guy who owns one of the residence hotels in the city,” I said. “Who owed Teddy a favor, gave him a room for years rent-free. The Seward. If you’re on bail or parole with conditions, the judge may not approve it.”
“See, he does care,” Lawrence said to Teddy. There was no mistaking the sarcasm.
“Take it easy on him, Pop,” Teddy said. “He wants the best.”
“For the record, I don’t think you should stay at the Seward, or anywhere else. I think you should go home to Dot, if she’ll have you. You’re engaged. What that means in this day and age is that you can live together. You don’t have to wait to be invited. You can just ask her if it’s okay. She shouldn’t have to beg.”
The meanness suddenly drained from Lawrence’s face, and his head went down for a second. When he spoke, it was in a tone I hardly recognized. “Home. I don’t even know what the word’s supposed to mean.”
I didn’t, either. “Probably, it means what you make of it.”
“See, now, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” Hearing him say this, it occurred to me that perhaps his imprisonment was as necessary to his idea of togetherness as it had been to Dot’s, at least according to Teddy’s view of her. He went on. “I keep forgetting, you’re the one who found her body.” He looked up again. “I want you to know that I don’t blame you for the way you felt about me, for thinking I did it. You were just a kid.”
“For Christ’s sake, that’s not what this is about.”
He was shaking his head. “Teddy and I, we kept you in the dark all these years. Somehow I thought you’d come to me on your own one day. But now I realize it wasn’t fair of me to put that responsibility on you. I should never have assumed you’d reject me out of hand if I were the one to make the approach.”
I would have, though, and he knew it. Rejecting him is exactly what would have happened if he’d made such an effort. His protests of innocence weren’t a viewpoint I wanted to hear.
“And you shouldn’t assume the same about the woman who’s agreed to marry you. It’s not like she didn’t know your past. You both knew what you were getting into.”
“Caveat emptor. Except the terms have changed.”
I suddenly found that I was out of patience with him. “Look, I’ll see you before the hearing,” I told Lawrence. “Teddy, take your time.”
Outside, I walked out the front gates and down the narrow road to a little cove with a shell beach barely wider than a man. In the distance across the calm water, San Francisco prickled with tiny spires, like trouble itself on the horizon.
Chapter 4
“Be seated,” Judge Liu said, taking the bench.
The courtroom was half filled with spectators, most from the press. Lawrence sat shackled between Teddy and me, still wearing his CDC blues. The bailiff had refused to take off the hardware. Dot sat in the front row behind him. Angela Crowder stated her name for the record. I did the same, then added, “Your Honor, my client is in restraints. At this moment he’s presumed innocent. Can we have these shackles removed?”
The judge, a big man, was imposing in his dark robe behind the bench. He gave me a look without an inch of yield in it. “The deputies and I have an understanding. I don’t tell them how to do their job and they don’t tell me mine. In ten minutes this issue may be moot. Can we all be a little bit patient with the conditions here?”
“Your Honor, my client has been patient for the last twenty-one years. I’m sure he can be patient for ten minutes more.”
“I’m certain he can.” Judge Liu eyed my father appraisingly, then turned to the DA. “Now, Ms. Crowder, it’s my understanding that the state has not filed a motion to stay my ruling pending appeal.”
“That’s correct, Your Honor. We respect this court’s judgment and have no plans to appeal the order granting habeas relief.”
Angela Crowder was in her forties, plump and barely over five feet tall, with a mass of tightly curled dark hair. Her freckled face belonged in a Dutch painting. She had a dime-sized mole on her chin that any competent dermatologist might have removed. Eye contact was her weapon of choice. When things didn’t go according to plan, she grew vicious and ran the risk of stinging herself.
“You have no realistic chance of success, is what you mean.”
In the back of the courtroom I heard a cough that had obviously begun as a laugh. Liu’s eyes sought the offender, not with displeasure. He went on. “Mr. Maxwell has a right to a speedy trial if the state intends to recharge him. If the state doesn’t intend to charge him with this crime, then he has the right to walk out of this courtroom today a free man. What are the state’s intentions? Ms. Crowder, are you prepared to refile the first-degree murder charges?”
“Your Honor, the police department and the district attorney’s office are investigating. As we’re all aware, this is a very old case and most of the people who were originally involved are now gone. We’re having to start from scratch. The state, nevertheless, believes it can present evidence of Lawrence Maxwell’s guilt. As his attorney, Mr. Maxwell, has observed, his father has been patient for twenty-one years. The state is sensitive to the fact that any delay at this point must be difficult to stomach. Nonetheless, extremely serious charges remain pending. In two weeks, I promise the court, we can have a definite answer.”
Seeing in the judge’s face that he was going to give her what she requested, I stood. “Your Honor, if I may be heard. I would ask that if the court is inclined to grant the state’s request, which my client opposes, that Your Honor set this case not for a status conference but for a probable cause hearing.” A probable cause hearing, otherwise known as a preliminary hearing or preliminary examination, was a required stage in all felony cases.
“Do you have any authority for your entitlement to a probable cause hearing?”
“Penal Code Section 995. The conviction has been vacated, so we’re starting over. Essentially, it’s the same as if Mr. Maxwell had been arrested for the first time last week on suspicion of this murder. If the state wants to retry him, it should present its evidence now.”
“I agree,” Liu said, surprising me. “Ms. Crowder, any reason why the state should not have to show probable cause?”
She rolled
her eyes. “We’ve already shown it. Twenty-one years ago.”
“Precisely. You’ve just told me that most of the people involved twenty-one years ago are now gone. That includes investigators, many of whom would need to be questioned about the physical evidence that I found was wrongfully withheld from the defense. If those people aren’t available, then the defense won’t be able to question them. Mr. Maxwell will probably argue that as one reason why this case should be dismissed.”
I spoke up. “The defendant expects to file a motion to exclude the use of any transcripts of testimony from the previous trial.”
The man we stood before now gave Crowder his best fuck-you smile. “Any thoughts, Ms. Crowder?”
“I don’t have an argument prepared right now, Your Honor. We can brief the issue . . .”
“I’m sure that both sides will enlighten me when you file your briefs a week from today. Simultaneous briefing, please. I’ll grant the state’s motion for a continuance and set this case for a probable cause hearing in two weeks. After that hearing, if necessary, I’ll also hear the defendant’s motion to dismiss this case. Anything else?”
I stood. “The defendant requests bail.”
“We can take that up after the hearing,” Crowder said.
The judge studied her. “No,” he said. “I think we’ll take it up now. What bail is the defense requesting?”
“Ten thousand dollars.” A shot at the moon.
He didn’t blink. “That’s lower than the usual amount for a first-degree murder charge. A lot lower. Give me your reasons.”
I summarized my father’s clean prison record and the lack of any evidence that he posed a danger to anyone. With no money, credit cards, driver’s license, or passport, he posed no flight risk. “As for my client’s ties to the community, I’ll have to switch roles and speak not as Mr. Maxwell’s attorney, but as his son. For twenty-one years my father, my brother, and I have never stopped seeking his exoneration.” My feelings about my father were no one’s business but my own. The truth, at least for me, was otherwise. But that was a private truth, one I had no desire to reveal in this public forum, with journalists scribbling or typing every word I said.
“There’s no reason,” I continued, “he should have to post such a high bail while the state dithers and delays the inevitable decision to dismiss these charges. We ask that the court recognize the special circumstances of this case and set bail at ten thousand dollars.”
I sat down and felt a hand squeeze my arm—my father’s. I glanced at him, and the nod he gave me conveyed urgent approval. He seemed to recognize that his freedom was at hand, closer than he’d ever dared dream, and his eyes brightened in hope. I hardly heard Crowder’s response.
Judge Liu made his ruling. “The defendant’s motion to reduce bail is well taken. I find that the special circumstances in this case—including the defendant’s many years of incarceration, excellent behavioral record, and the likelihood that the state will not be able to meet its burden of proceeding—warrant a substantial reduction; however, not to the level requested by the defense. Bail is set at fifty thousand dollars cash bond.”
~ ~ ~
As soon as Liu had left the bench, Dot came through the swinging gate, took my father’s face in both her hands, and kissed him on the mouth. Cameras flashed, capturing the moment. My father’s face was flushed. His hands shook with excitement.
More reporters were waiting as we came out of the courtroom, making me remember that today was the first time Teddy had appeared at the Hall of Justice since he’d been shot. He’d once owned this place. Back then, people would have turned to look at him as he strode down the halls to a court appearance, the cops staring with open contempt, the defendants acknowledging his magic reputation as a fixer. The hearing today could have been his coming-out party, his return to the practice of law—except I hadn’t given him the chance to say a word.
Dot had her bike, and planned to meet us at Teddy’s. She’d brought an extra helmet for my father, but Lawrence balked. “Not unless you’re going to let me drive,” he said.
“And kill us both?” She masked her disappointment with feigned disgust.
As we drove across the Bay Bridge, sitting three across in my pickup, Dot passed us, and my father peered out the window for a glimpse of the skyline between the decks. When we were halfway across, he said, “I guess they fixed it after it fell down.” It took me a moment to realize that he was talking about the upper deck’s collapse during the quake of ’89.
I said, “Things must look different.” I was wary of drawing him out, afraid to know too much about what he was feeling. He would be like a skinless man, all his protective instincts turned inside out, a condition likely to put him wrong in any normal interaction. As he stared out at the landscape unscrolling outside the window, I was sensitive to how I must figure in the tumult of emotions he was experiencing.
“Funny,” he said. “I was just thinking how everything looks the same. Same old world. And same old Lawrence Maxwell.” What he meant by that I didn’t ask.
I’d called as soon as we left the courtroom, and the others were waiting at Teddy’s house: Jeanie, Tamara, Carly. The welcome home party that wasn’t. Because where was home for a man who’d spent the last twenty-one years in San Quentin? Dot was waiting outside, and the others were all out back. As we joined them, Tamara, who’d been sketching, rose, laying her pad aside.
“I hear you’re a wonderful artist,” Lawrence said, taking her hand. “You’re just as lovely as Teddy described you. Or rather, lovelier.”
I introduced everyone to Dot, whom my father seemed to ignore. She wouldn’t look me in the eyes, but hung back, seeming to take in the scene. Tamara deflected Lawrence’s compliment by introducing him to Jeanie, who seemed uncomfortable and out of place, and kept staring at Dot as if she were some exotic species. But since Teddy had asked Jeanie to come, she was here.
“Let me show you the baby,” Teddy said, moving between Lawrence and Tamara. “This is Carly.”
“Don’t wake her—” Tamara started, but he was already lifting the sleeping child from the bassinet, remembering to support the head. Her black hair was finely kinked, the skin just a shade darker than Teddy’s, every human detail perfect in miniature. Then, without warning, Teddy handed the baby to her grandfather, who to my surprise took her as if being handed an infant were the most natural thing. He held Carly, jiggling her gently to keep her from crying.
“Isn’t that nice,” he said, peering at the tiny, oblivious face. “Isn’t that something. I was always good with babies,” he said, looking up with flushed happiness at the rest of us.
Dot said, “This is certainly a side of you I’ve never seen.”
After a pause Jeanie said, “I suppose you never forget.”
“I raised two of them. I changed the diapers, fed them in the middle of the night, rocked them to sleep. Happiest days of my life. Every second is precious. Every single one.”
Dot watched him with her jaw tense, vulnerability behind the customary hardness of her eyes. I tried to guess what she was thinking. All of us except Teddy had wanted nothing to do with Lawrence for twenty-one years. For nearly ten of those years, she’d been there for him, but now, it seemed, she was being asked to take a backseat. Of course, she wouldn’t be interested in such an understanding from me.
Or maybe she was thinking of her son, who’d died after Lawrence helped him win his freedom.
“Back to Mama,” Lawrence now said, breaking the tension of the moment as Carly yawned and awakened. He handed the baby to Tamara.
Jeanie had brought a tray of cold meats, antipasti, fresh fruit, and grilled vegetables. “There’s stuff here I haven’t seen in two decades,” my father told us. “Kalamata olives . . . We used to go to this little place in North Beach—”
He stopped, looking apologetically at Dot, and I realized that by
we he meant he and Caroline, my mother. Dot nodded and touched his wrist, as if giving him permission to speak of that still-unfinished business. I both wanted and didn’t want him to go on. There was a nearness in the way he spoke of her, as if she were a living presence to him still, accessible in a way she never would be to me. At the same time, hearing him speak like that filled me with foreboding.
As I’d tried to make clear to Crowder, the past wasn’t finished for any of us, not with the case hanging over our heads. I believed in my father’s innocence, but not as Teddy believed in it. I was a skeptic converted to uncertain faith. My eyes found Dot’s.
We filled our plates and found seats. Jeanie wanted to know about the hearing, so Teddy and I filled her in. When I came to the part about Judge Liu granting my request for a probable cause hearing and scheduling it for two weeks out, I downplayed the news. She opened her mouth, but I gave her a warning look. The last thing I wanted was to talk legal strategy here, today, in front of the man engendering it.
“Liu’s a good judge,” Jeanie said. “No surprise he granted bail. He gets it.” She looked from Teddy to me and back again, but she didn’t ask the question that seemed to be on her lips, the question of where Dot had come from.
My father reloaded his plate with the good roast beef, deliciously pink, the plump red organic strawberries, the grilled asparagus, the olives. It was distracting, watching him eat. Our conversation kept stalling around the force of his hunger, the way he bit into the strawberry and sucked the fruit away from the greens, took a thin slice of roast beef between thumb and forefinger and folded it whole into his mouth, a bite so big that he had to swallow four times, still chewing, eyes watering, to get it down. Watching him with obvious pleasure, Dot lifted a napkin to his lips and wiped his mouth, then leaned forward and in sight of all, kissed him again.
When he’d finished, he leaned back in the sun and said, “Now I think I’d like to spend a little more time getting to know my granddaughter.”
~ ~ ~
Fox is Framed Page 3