by Noel Obiora
Kenneth called Jo from the phone booth where Big could still see him, and Jo picked up the phone before Kenneth heard it ring.
“Hey, thanks for calling me. Big got to you?”
“I’m with him. How are you doing?”
“Alright, can you come tonight?” Jo asked.
“I can’t and I shouldn’t, Jo. I will meet you anytime and let you know what I think, but not your dad. Or your mother for that matter.” Jo was quiet on the other end of the line. “Why do you want me there?”
“I want him to meet you, Kenny. You are right for the case. It is as clear as day to me.”
Kenneth was quiet for a moment; it sounded like what Cassandra had said to him, only clearer.
“I have never tried a murder case before,” he said slowly, as though he regretted not having that experience.
“Neither had all those other guys before they got their first murder case. Ken, I will be the first to admit that my brother has made one too many stupid mistakes in his life, but I know he is not a murderer. He is not O. J.. He hasn’t lived any kind of life of privilege, with people waiting on him, hanging on his every word, doing his bidding. He has worked for everything he has, even refusing help from Pa. I know you can convince a jury that he didn’t do it.”
“I really appreciate what you’re saying but I can’t lie to you or to myself about this…it’s gonna cost you just as much as you’ll pay if you were getting someone with the experience.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do it for less, Kenny.”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t suggesting that you would. But Big was…I’ve worked with him before.”
“I know. Can you just come and tell my dad to stop looking for celebrity lawyers to take this case? He wants a big-shot attorney to fit his image as a great Imam of Los Angeles.”
“What makes you think he would listen to me if he doesn’t listen to you?”
“I don’t know. At least, tell him what…” Jo stopped talking and Kenneth could hear her sniffling, but before he could say anything, she completed her sentence. “to look for.”
Jo was quiet again for a while.
“Jo,” Kenneth called out.
“Yeah, I’m here…Ken.” Jo said. After another short pause, she asked: “You think he did it?”
“I don’t know much of anything about this woman or the facts of the case.”
“You know as much as I do, Ken. Please tell me.”
“Honestly Jo…swear you won’t tell another soul,” Kenneth said lowering his voice.
“I promise,” Jo said.
“Jo…I’m still wondering why Big hasn’t been arrested, if Paul wanted to kill anyone. Period.”
Jo laughed. And Kenneth hung up the phone.
•••
Kate was back at the office when Amy returned from visiting Helen Silberberg.
“Ms. Silberberg gave me a letter sent from the defendant’s nightclub to Goldie after she died,” Amy told Kate.
“What does it say?”
“She didn’t open it.”
“Why not?”
“It was difficult for her. She said she could not get herself to even look at it.”
“Why did she give it to you? You can’t do it for her.”
“I wasn’t suggesting I should. I thought it would be evidence in the case.”
Amy felt the way Kate looked at her suggested she had made a grave mistake. She handed Kate the envelope, which Kate examined in silence and swore under her breath before she asked Amy to give it to the attorney who would arraign Paul Jackson the following day so they could present it to the court.
“Ms. Silberberg also gave me a couple of contracts, including Goldie’s music contract and a CD from her safe deposit box,” Amy told Kate, who was not as impressed about that information as Amy thought she would be.
“Contact the record company to let them know about it before the defendant asks for everything else we have from her.”
“I’ll do that,” Amy said and quickly added, “the rental contract shows that her apartment was paid for the entire year, but it was in her agent Didi Pare’s name.”
“Let Gonzalez know about that; let’s try to keep this case simple, please,” Kate said again and returned to her work.
Amy called the record company, as Kate directed, to inform them about the documents Helen found. The executive Amy spoke to said their lawyer would get back to Amy.
7
“Not Guilty”
The hallway outside the courtroom on Thursday was crowded when Amy arrived at 8:20 a.m. Inside, a capacity crowd. The first two seating rows were reserved for lawyers, and even those were almost full. There were more African Americans than Amy had ever seen in a courtroom. Several men carrying big cameras wore press passes around their necks, but no one was taking pictures. Amy surmised that some press people in the building from the O. J. Simpson trial had come to take notes on another Hollywood trial.
She had wanted to check-in with the court’s calendar clerk as all attorneys appearing before the court were supposed to, but she changed her mind when she saw the courtroom so full. Kate had instructed her to let the deputy district attorney, who regularly did arraignments in that court, take Paul’s plea. On making eye contact with the court clerk, Amy shook her head slightly to indicate she would not be checking-in. The court reporter smiled to acknowledge that she understood.
Anna Houseman was the deputy district attorney assigned to the courtroom, and she was standing next to the calendar clerk with a woman Amy guessed was another lawyer. Amy stood away from the lawyers and waited for Anna.
Among the people sitting in the row immediately behind the lawyers were two women in hijabs. Amy assumed they were Paul’s family, since they must have been among the first to arrive at the courthouse to get those seats.
“Hey, thanks for the busy morning,” Anna said when she joined Amy.
“I had no idea,” Amy smiled.
“Was that the public defender with you?”
“Yes, Joanna Lark. Did you speak with Mr. Ross?” Anna asked.
“Mr. Ross?”
“The record company attorney; he wanted to know if I was you. He is the younger buck sitting to the left of the second row of attorneys,” Anna said looking past Amy toward Mr. Ross, but Amy did not turn.
“Thanks. He can wait. I’m afraid we have a further complication in this case.”
“What do you mean?”
“On Tuesday the victim’s mother delivered this to us,” Amy said, giving the letter from Goldie’s apartment to Anna in a clear plastic evidence bag.
“What do you want me to do with this?”
“Let the court know on the record that we received mail from the victim’s house yesterday and it appears to be from the defendant.”
“Why can’t we just give a copy to the defendant’s attorney as part of the complaint?”
“That’s what we want to do, but we need the court’s permission to open it. The letter is post-marked after the death of the victim.”
Anna opened her eyes wide and looked at Amy as though she was wondering what audacity Amy had to impose this on her in the first place.
“And you just want to observe and not participate?” Anna asked sarcastically.
“That is what I have been told to do,” Amy said with a smile.
Anna took the evidence bag and went to talk to Joanna Lark again. Amy watched Ms. Lark invite an African American lawyer Amy knew by reputation, Omar Jones, to join them.
Judge Pollazo took the bench promptly at 9:00 a.m. and informed the court that Mr. Jones had requested priority. Hearing no objections, he called the case of the People of California vs. Paul Jackson. Omar Jones and Joanna Lark approached one of two counsel tables of about five feet in length, placed end to end in a well in front of the judge, and
separated from the rest of the courtroom by a waist-high balustrade. Ms. Houseman approached the other counsel table. They announced their names and whom they represented, while the court reporter, seated between them and the judge, transcribed verbatim.
As they introduced themselves, the sheriff brought Paul Jackson into the courtroom. Amy could not take her eyes off him as he walked, swaggering side to side, to his chair. He wore a pink prison uniform and had handcuffs that had a chain attached to a pair of cuffs on his ankles. His hair was cut to the tiniest stubs, a mere shade of darkness upon his skull. He looked more like an actor than the jock that Amy had imagined from his mug shots and his description in the complaint. What madness drove him to kill Goldie? Amy wondered.
He walked with his head upright, his shoulders pulled back, and took his time, like it was natural for him to be in handcuffs and have the sheriff accompany him like a bodyguard. He appeared to look directly at Amy before he turned his back to her and stood between Omar Jones and Joanna Lark. Earlier in Amy’s career, the accused was only a case number on a file, whose nom de guerre was defendant, and whose face she hardly recalled. Paul’s face though, she did not think she would ever forget.
“What is the nature of your special appearance, Mr. Jones, when the public defendant is also on the case?” Judge Pollazo inquired.
“With your permission, your honor, and obviously the agreement of the public defender, I would like to represent Mr. Jackson for the purpose of entering his plea of not guilty, while the public defender considers his financial eligibility for representation. I am conducting an investigation on behalf of the family into the circumstances of his arrest and the evidence that supports his case that he did not commit this crime. The outcome of what we find early in that investigation will determine whether the family would take further steps to retain my services.”
“Why can’t you conduct your investigation independent of the public defender’s case, and if you are retained, just come in and substitute the public defender?”
“Your Honor, that was the idea when I came in this morning, until we were informed that there is a further evidence to be introduced in the record at this arraignment.”
“I will not be taking any evidence at this arraignment. So, you can go back to your initial plan.”
“Your Honor, we are not really asking the court to take any evidence either,” Anna quickly joined. “Rather, out of the abundance of caution and the protection of due process, we need to make the court aware of a new development.”
“Would this require us in any way to put off the arraignment or reconsider the arrest of this defendant at this time, counsel?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
Anna, Omar, and Joanna respectively all spoke at the same time so that it was difficult identifying who said what.
“One at a time please,” the court reporter said.
“The People are ready for arraignment, your Honor, with or without the new development.”
Judge Pollazo shuffled a few papers together, then paused for a moment and propped up his chin on a clinched fist.
“I will be the first to admit—” Mr. Jones began, but Judge Pollazo raised his hand with an open palm toward Mr. Jones, who stopped speaking immediately.
“Ms. Houseman, what is this new development?” Judge Pollazo asked.
Anna handed the transparent plastic bag with the letter to the sheriff and explained what Amy had told her about how they received the letter. She told Judge Pollazo that she had shown the letter to Ms. Lark and Mr. Jones. Judge Pollazo examined the letter without taking it out of the transparent evidence bag.
“And Ms. Houseman, you are requesting that we open the letter and make it a part of the case file?” Judge Pollazo asked.
“Yes, your Honor,” Anna said.
“Your Honor,” Mr. Jones and Ms. Lark started to say simultaneously, and Mr. Jones stopped. “We would object to that request,” Joanna said.
“What is your objection?” Judge Pollazo said.
“Your Honor, the letter obviously has nothing to do with guilt or innocence in this case, since the police did not know about it at the time they arrested my client,” Joanna said.
“Your Honor,” Anna said. “The family of the deceased would like some closure with this case, and part of that closure would be understanding why this letter from the man who killed their daughter should arrive at this time.”
“The man who allegedly killed their daughter, you mean; we can all have closure when the trial is over, Ms. Houseman. I will leave the matter of the letter to be decided by the trial judge. You may renew your motion at the preliminary hearing, Ms. Houseman,” Judge Pollazo said. “How long do you expect your investigation will take, Mr. Jones?” Judge Pollazo asked.
“We should be done by the middle of next week,” Mr. Jones said.
“In that case, we will go ahead and take the defendant’s plea, with a longer schedule for the preliminary hearing, which should be the next court appearance on this matter unless one of you files a motion for whatever purpose before the court. Is that agreeable?” Judge Pollazo asked.
All counsel agreed.
“Very well then. You may read the charges against the defendant, Ms. Houseman,” Judge Pollazo said.
“Yes, your Honor,” Anna said, and read the pleading charging Paul with two counts of violation of Penal Code Section 187(a), a felony for the murder of Goldie Silberberg, and Section 459, unauthorized entry of the premises belonging to Ms. Silberberg.
After the reading of the charges, Anna looked up at the judge, who asked Paul several questions as to how he was pleading.
“Not guilty,” Paul said.
Anna requested that Paul be remanded to custody without bail pending trial.
Judge Pollazo agreed over Joanna Lark’s arguments to the contrary and adjourned the proceeding.
“You may call the next case,” Judge Pollazo said to the calendar clerk.
Anna turned toward Amy again and raised her hand to indicate that Amy should wait for her. Omar put one hand around Paul’s shoulder and patted him on the chest with the other hand. They spoke briefly before Paul shook hands with Joanna and was led away by the sheriff, while Omar and Joanna left the well. Much of the courtroom started to get up, shuffling noisy.
Amy observed Mr. Ross walking toward her. He bent over, apparently to introduce himself, but Amy spoke first. “Mr. Ross?” The man nodded. He was about thirty-five years old, his cologne as ostentatious as his suit. Amy looked at him like she was inspecting a mannequin. Reaching into her handbag, she handed him a large envelope. Mr. Ross asked if Amy could meet with him outside the courtroom for a minute, but Amy shook her head and pointed toward Anna.
“I have to wait for her.”
“It will only take a minute.”
“Not even that, Mr. Ross; I am still waiting for Ms. Houseman.”
“I will wait outside, then.”
Amy shrugged, her attention still focused on the proceeding in front of her.
She sat through two more arraignments in which Anna was counsel before she stood up to leave, and let the Sheriff know that she would be back for Anna. She wanted to tell Anna that she did a good job with very little information to go on and invite her to lunch, if Anna were not busy.
“I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot yesterday,” Mr. Ross said as soon as Amy came out of the courtroom.
“It’s part of the job,” Amy said.
“I left your boss messages to call us back, but we have not heard from her.”
“She got your messages, that’s why I gave you the documents.”
“I wanted to let her know why we didn’t want the defendant to get the Silberberg music contract from your office.”
“I can let her know, if you wish.”
“The man
accused of killing her cowrote most of the songs on her new record, so we had covered him with an insurance policy that would pay for his attorneys fees if he is sued for plagiarism or copyright infringement on the songs he cowrote. Unfortunately, in addition to coverage for copyright infringement, the general liability insurance policy also pays for attorneys’ fees if he is charged with a criminal offense while he is Goldie’s manager. We imagined a situation where he got into a scuffle with a paparazzi or something; no one envisioned paying for his attorneys fees in a case like this.”
“Where he is using it to pay for his legal defense for murder,” Amy said.
“Yes, up to a quarter of a million dollars per case,” the lawyer answered.
“And you are seriously telling me that his access to legal fees for the defense has nothing to do with the ultimate outcome of his criminal case?” Amy asked.
“We are saying that he is not entitled to it, and if you guys hand it over to him, you will be playing judge and jury in the civil case that would decide whether he is entitled to it.”
“So noted. I‘ll let Kate know,” Amy said and walked away.
•••
Amy had spoken with Mr. Ross when she returned from the courthouse the previous afternoon. The conversation had left Amy so flustered that she could not remember his name after it was over. He had asked the district attorney to return the documents to the recording company without disclosing it to Paul.
“Seriously?” Amy had asked, astounded that a lawyer she had never met would ask such a thing of her, a deputy district attorney.
“This has nothing to do with the criminal case, is what I’m saying.”
“We are not the judge of that…You understand how keeping it from him when his name is on it would pose an ethical dilemma for our office, don’t you?” Amy asked.