Desperate Justice

by Dennis Carstens

  “Yeah, really well. But I’m looking forward to helping on this,” she said as she held up the letters. “Something juicy.”

  “Yeah, that’s the word to describe a murder one case. Juicy.”

  She stood up to leave and Marc came around the desk. She held out her arms and they gave each other a friendly hug. They went out into the reception area and Sandy made copies of the letters for Maddy. Marc walked her to the door and held it open for her. As she was leaving he said, “If you find out anything at all, even trivial, that might help us, let me know right away.”

  Maddy looked back at Carolyn and with a big grin, said, “I’m giddy as hell about this. I’m just totally psyched to be working on something like this again. I’m so glad you took his case and called me though I’m surprised you did take his case.”

  “We’ll see how big of a mistake that turns out to be. Stay in touch.”

  FIFTY-NINE

  Marc waited patiently for the deputies to bring his client to the courtroom for arraignment on the new charges. Knowing there would be media people present, Marc had arranged for one of Prentiss’s suits to be brought to him so he could change and look less like a criminal.

  Jennifer Moore was representing the prosecutor’s office and she was seated at the other table. He thought back to the first time he met her, a little over a year ago. At that time she was still fresh, idealistic and enthused about being a lawyer. Since then, he noticed, she had already taken on a harder, edgier attitude.

  Marc stood up, straightened his tie and took a seat at the prosecution’s table next to Jennifer.

  “Hey, Marc, what’s up?” she pleasantly asked.

  “Can I,” he hesitated, “tell you something? Give you some advice. You can tell me to mind my own business if you want, but I’ve noticed a change in you.”

  “Sure, what?” she said looking puzzled.

  “You need to get out of this. Get away from criminal work. You’re getting jaded and…”

  “Oh, that. Yeah,” she sighed. “I’ve thought about it. It shows, huh?”

  “Only because I’ve known you for a little while. I remember how enthused and energetic you were.”

  “Lawyers and cops, we’re the most cynical people there are,” she said. “But you know something? I love putting assholes behind bars. It’s rewarding. You should switch teams. We’d love to have you.”

  “I can’t play the political games. Plus, I really like my independence.”

  “Why do you suppose they’re here?” Jennifer asked referring to the twenty or so media attendees.

  “I don’t know,” Marc said. “Let’s ask them.” He stood up, looked over the crowd of blank, bored faces and said, “We’re a little curious about why all of you are here. There’s nothing to see. Nothing is going to happen. Judge Prentiss is going to plead not guilty. I’ll ask for bail. Ms. Moore here will dispute it, the judge will likely refuse bail and that will be it.”

  At that moment, the door leading to the back hall of the courtroom opened and the judge’s clerk came out. He gestured for Marc to come forward and Jennifer went with. The clerk informed them that Prentiss was here and the judge would be out in a few minutes. The two lawyers returned to their respective tables just as Gordon Prentiss was led through a side door and took the chair next to Marc. The two of them exchanged a brief handshake as the back door opened again and the judge and court reporter entered the courtroom.

  While the reporter was setting up her equipment, Judge Carla Rios made a brief statement regarding court decorum and behavior. The clerk read off the case information and the lawyers entered their names into the record. Marc waived reading of the full indictment and he and Prentiss stood while all of the charges were read by the clerk. When that was done, the judge asked Prentiss for his plea which, of course, was not guilty.

  At that point, Marc made a motion for bail and for the next few minutes the judge listened to both lawyers make their arguments for and against. When the lawyers finished, the judge thought it over for a minute then said, “Denied. But I’ll keep your motion open, Mr. Kadella, for possible reconsideration.”

  “Thank you, your Honor,” both lawyers said simultaneously.

  “Your Honor,” Marc said, “I would like to discuss something but I think it would be best if we do so in chambers, if we could.”

  “Sure,” the judge answered. “Come on back.” With that she stood up and left the bench.

  Marc turned toward Prentiss and found him quietly talking to a well-dressed man who appeared to be about the same age as Prentiss. He introduced himself to Marc and handed him a business card. He was Carter McElhenney, a lawyer with Prentiss’s former firm.

  “I was wondering if I could meet with you this morning after this hearing at my office,” McElhenney said.

  Marc looked at Prentiss who nodded his head to indicate his concurrence.

  “Sure, I guess so,” Marc said looking at the business card. “What about?”

  “Money,” Prentiss replied.

  “I’ll be there,” Marc said as he shook hands with both men.

  The two lawyers waited in the hallway for a few minutes while the judge was on the phone then Marc and Jennifer were shown into her chambers. Carla Ruiz had been appointed to the bench shortly after Margaret Tennant and the two of them had become good if somewhat casual friends. Both lawyers knew her from prior experience and if asked, would have given her very good marks for knowledge, ability and fairness.

  “Okay, Mr. Kadella, what did you want to see me about? Do we need the court reporter?”

  “No, you’re Honor, that won’t be necessary,” Marc began. “This is a little awkward, judge. It’s, um, just…”

  “You want to know if I can be fair to your client who was not, let’s say, the most popular judge in this district,” Judge Rios said. “I’ll tell you right now, I will not recuse myself. If you want to bring a motion for that or a change of venue, go ahead, it’s your right. I won’t be offended, but I will deny both motions. Your guy is going to get a fair trial, Mr. Kadella. If you want to, I’ll bring the reporter in and we can do the motion right now. I don’t mind. Ms. Moore, do you want to say anything?”

  “No, your Honor.”

  “I don’t mean to offend you or…”

  “I’m not offended at all, Marc. I would have wondered why you didn’t ask for it,” the judge pleasantly replied.

  “I am going to include both motions in my omnibus pleadings, just to preserve it for a possible appeal.”

  “I think you should,” Rios said. “Anything else?”

  “No, your Honor.”

  “Good. Now at the omnibus hearing, be prepared to set a trial schedule. Are you lead counsel?” she asked Jennifer.

  “No, your Honor. Steve Gondeck will be.”

  “Okay, you be sure to tell him he will be there for the omnibus hearing and scheduling conference. You two have a good day.”

  Marc was on the elevator heading toward the thirty-fourth floor of the Corwin Building. The building was only ten years old and was named after the Corwin family. Vivian Corwin Donahue had attended the groundbreaking but after viewing the finished building vowed she would never set foot in the place. Forty-four stories of glass and chrome, it had all of the warmth, charm and style of a county morgue. Or so Vivian declared.

  When the elevator door opened, Marc found himself staring at the receptionist desk of Kramer, Cullin, Prentiss and Moore, LLC. Seated at the desk, wearing a headset, a dove gray light wool business dress, and a stunning smile was what looked to be a mid-twenties, auburn haired Victoria’s Secret model.

  Marc straightened himself up to his full height, fingered the knot of his tie and hoping his hair was fairly well combed, walked up to the waist high wall around her desk. She held up a perfectly manicured red lacquered finger signaling to him while she spoke into the phones mic.

  When she finished the call, she looked up at him, flashed him a quick smile and said, “May I help you?”

/>   “My name is Marc Kadella and I’m here to rescue you from this,” he said spreading his arms holding his briefcase in one hand to indicate her surroundings. “This must be like a slave ship to work in.”

  After she stopped laughing she said, “You’re here to see Mr. McElhenney. I’ll call him for you.”

  Marc took a seat in one of the reception room chairs and in less than a minute, McElhenney appeared. They shook hands and as McElhenney began to lead him back to their destination, Marc glanced back at the receptionist. She smiled and said, “Thanks for the offer but I’m good.”

  They reached a door to a conference room and McElhenney opened it, stepped aside and let Marc enter first. Seated across the table were five lawyers, three men and two women, and when McElhenney took a seat at the head of the table, he became the sixth member of the firm. The first thing Marc noticed was how poorly dressed they were. The only exception was McElhenney, who had on a two thousand dollar Books Brothers suit. This was a white shoe law firm from which the partners all derived at least a half million each year. Yet, each of them looked as if they were wearing the same suit they wore when graduating from college. The next thing he noticed was the serious expression on their faces.

  Marc took the chair next to McElhenney who went around the table introducing the others to him. He caught none of their names which didn’t seem too important since he wasn’t sure why he was even there.

  After the introductions were complete, Marc said, “Now I know how a prison inmate must feel facing a parole board.” This statement elicited a small chuckle from one of the men and two others almost smiled.

  One of the older men started by telling Marc that Gordon Prentiss was requesting a loan to pay Marc’s retainer fee. They were understandably quite concerned about a loan of such size; especially for the purpose it was being made.

  “That sounds like an extremely exorbitant amount for a criminal case,” one of the women said, the skinny one that looked like a good meal would kill her and a good breeze would knock her off of her broom.

  “So you want me to justify my fees to you. Is that it?”

  ‘Well, yes,” the other woman said.

  “With all due respect,” Marc politely answered her, “I’m not going to do that. First of all, it may very well be unethical for me to discuss this at all. And second, I don’t see the need. My fees are between my client and me. As I see it, most of you probably wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t for Judge Prentiss’ father. Loan him the money, don’t loan him the money. It’s entirely up to you.”

  “How about if we agree to have you bill us as you go along?” one of the men said.

  “The hundred grand is just a start. This case is going to consume me, maybe another lawyer and at least one investigator. Plus I can’t possibly agree to that and hope you stick with the deal. Unless there’s something else,” Marc said as he stood up, “all of you have a nice day and I hope you see fit to loan the money to your friend and former partner.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” McElhenney said as the others all looked at each other as if Marc had just farted in their precious conference room.

  Sensing the man wanted to talk to him, Marc held the door for him and the two of them started back toward the reception area. They came to an open office door whose occupant was out and McElhenney ushered Marc into it. Marc took a client chair and McElhenney sat behind the desk.

  “Mr. McElhenney…” Marc began.

  “Please call me Mac. You mind if I call you Marc?” Mac said as he pulled his checkbook from an inside pocket of his suit coat. He began writing a check and tore it off and handed it to Marc.

  “What’s going on here?” Marc asked holding McElhenney’s personal check for twenty-five thousand dollars.

  “What you said in there was right. They owe his dad. Besides, I’ll get the rest out of them. Give me a couple of weeks and I’ll have the rest for you. Is that enough for now?”

  With that, he finished escorting Marc to the elevator. While they were waiting, McElhenney told Marc to call him directly when he needed more money.

  SIXTY

  The morning of the omnibus hearing, Marc left his apartment earlier than normal for the trip downtown. He had worked late the night before and rather than wake Margaret by sleeping there, he had spent the night at his home. Now he was in a hurry to get to her courtroom to see her before the hearing to discuss something with her.

  After parking his car in the building’s underground ramp, he hurried through the early morning crowd up to Margaret’s courtroom. Having called ahead, she knew he was coming and he went straight back to her chambers.

  “Hey good looking,” she said from behind her desk as he walked toward her. “Nice suit. Someone has great taste,” knowing it was the light gray double-breasted Armani she had bought him for his last birthday.

  “And I have great taste in women,” he said as he took a seat in front of her desk.

  She got up from her chair and came around the desk. He looked up at her and said with a worried look, “You’re not going to jump on me again, are you? I don’t have time this morning.”

  “Very funny,” she said as she bent down, kissed him then sat in the chair next to him. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

  Marc hesitated for a moment, then looked at her and quietly said, “I need to talk to somebody and I know I’ll get good advice from you.”

  “Okay, that’s nice. What?”

  “It’s this Prentiss case. I have to tell somebody. I’m having some reservations about it. I’m not sure I can do this.”

  “Then you need to get out of it. Get him a new lawyer and step aside. It’s that simple.”

  “But,” Marc continued, “I’m not sure I can’t do it either. The thing is he swears he’s innocent. He insists he came home and found her in her bedroom already dead. Someone knocked him out and set him up. And as crazy as this may sound, I’m starting to believe him. It’s just that the evidence is overwhelming.”

  For the next half-hour the two of them talked over his dilemma. Marc paced around Margaret’s chambers doing most of the talking while Margaret listened and interjected an occasional point or question. Finally, having exhausted the subject of his ambivalence, he sat down again next to his love.

  “You think you’re the first lawyer who has had this problem?”

  “Of course not. But it is a first for me. Normally, I don’t give a damn whether any client is guilty or innocent. I don’t even want to know.”

  “But…,” she said, “this is Gordon Prentiss and you basically don’t like him.”

  “I don’t like most of my clients. There are some who make me want to wash my hand every time I shake their hand. Hell, if criminal defense lawyers only represented people they like, we’d starve to death.” He paused for a moment, looked her in the eyes and said, “You know what it is? I really think he is innocent, but if we lose today, he’s probably hosed. And he’s such a rotten bastard, I’m not sure I care.”

  “You’re not supposed to care. Let me tell you something. I see a lot of lawyers come through my court and the absolute worst ones are those that are pursuing some kind of cause. It never fails, they always end up representing their cause and the client gets left in the debris. The best ones are the ones like you; the ones who don’t get emotionally, personally involved.”

  Marc looked at his watch then smiled at Margaret, leaned over to kiss her and said, “You’re right. Thanks for the pep talk. Now,” he continued as he stood up and picked up his briefcase, “I better get downstairs and see what I can do for him.”

  Prentiss was already seated at the defense table when Marc passed through the gate and set his briefcase on the table. He shook hands with Prentiss and Mac McElhenney who had been waiting for Marc to arrive. McElhenney asked Marc if they could talk in the hallway and the two of them went out just as Steve Gondeck and Jennifer Moore came in.

  “I have another check for you,” McElhenney said when they had walked p
ast the media crowd outside the courtroom.

  “Good. How much?” Marc replied.

  “The balance of the retainer. But we would like you to sign…”

  “I’m not signing anything,” Marc interrupted. “And I’m not agreeing to meet with your committee or you or anyone else about the case,” he calmly continued.

  “Be reasonable,” McElhenney said. “We just want a…”

  “I don’t care what you want. You want to know what’s happening with the case, come to court and watch. But I can’t have you or your committee looking over my shoulder. Your deal is between your firm and Gordon Prentiss. I have nothing to do with that. Have him give you a lien against his house.”

  “We did,” McElhenney said. He reached in his inside suit coat pocket and removed a folded check. “I told them you wouldn’t agree to any of their demands.”

  “Would you?”

  “No,” McElhenney answered as he handed the check to Marc. “Can we at least get a receipt?”

  “Nope,” Marc said as he turned and walked back toward the courtroom.

  The hearing went almost exactly the way Marc feared it would. The main event was the anonymous call to 911 reporting mysterious sounds coming from the Prentiss house. This was the basis for the police being sent to the house and conducting a search. If Marc could keep out the search, then the discovery of Prentiss and his wife and all of the evidence found at the scene would be inadmissible. If that happened, the prosecution’s case would collapse.

  A technician from the police department was put on the stand to authenticate the recording. She testified that it was, in fact, the call that came in at 12:17 A.M. on the night of Catherine Prentiss’ murder. The call had to be played several times, and even then, it was difficult to hear and it could not be determined if it was a man or a woman.

  The tech then went on to testify that a call had pinged a cell phone tower two blocks from the Prentiss home at precisely that time. The call clearly came from the neighborhood, she opined.