by Reason of Sanity

by Gene Grossman

  “Do I make myself clear?” I look down at my Timex to see how much time I have to surgically take this asshole apart. There’s enough time.

  “Gee, I’m sorry you feel that way about me, because I’m kinda fond of you. And I’d especially like to have a friend in this office, because one of my clients is considering bringing a misconduct action against a police officer that arrested him at a fastfood place recently. Of course, if this case goes to trial, we’ll be introducing into evidence witness statements of the restaurant’s employees – and one of them made the ridiculous claim that he saw you and your friend here kissing in the car. Now I know that it sounds a little out of the ordinary for a prosecutor who’s been so tough on homosexuals to actually be one himself, but nevertheless, we have to take all statements seriously and present whatever testimony is available concerning the vehicles that were in line that day.”

  He stands up behind his desk and starts his best performance of the day. “Sharp, that’s it. I was willing to give you a chance, against the advice of my closest advisors, but you’ve just put an end to any opportunity you might have ever had. Not only will your ex-wife lose the race against me, both you and she will probably be arrested and convicted of some crimes before the election. You know, it’s not uncommon for people to be stopped for a minor traffic violation, only to have some restricted substance noticed in plain sight by the police. Many a career has been destroyed like that.”

  It wasn’t only the things he said, it was the smug smirk on his face when he said it that really bothered me. I glance up at the clock on the wall and realize that I’m running out of time if I want to pick up Myra, so I open up my file folder and lay my cards on the table. I step forward and place on his desk in order, the ammunition I brought with me but didn’t want to use.

  “Okay mister District Attorney, here’s how it is. I accept your apology. This is a picture of you and your friend here kissing on the lips. Let me know, I can get you some wallet-sized ones for a good price. And this is a copy of your friend’s application to take the Baby Bar Exam. Note that he states under oath that he just started law school last term, so that when he took the job here in that program you instituted solely for the purpose of getting your lunch date a way to be close to you, not only was he not a secondyear law student, he wasn’t any kind of law student. If all this stuff comes out at trial, not only will you be the one who’s leaving town, but you’ll be leaving without your wife and her money, and baby-face here will get thrown out of law school for lying on his application for a civil service position.”

  At this point they’re b oth sucking wind like fishes out of water. As long as they’re not interrupting me, I guess it’s okay to go on.

  “So, I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do . I hate messy situations. Pretty boy, you will quit your job here and spend your time at home studying for your Baby Bar Exam. If you pass it and this stuff doesn’t get revealed, maybe you’ll have a chance at a law career and this will be a lesson to you that it never pays to act like your schmuck boyfriend here.

  “And as for you, Mister Schmuck Boyfriend, I’ve just decided to convince my client that he shouldn’t bring any action against the cops, so that none of this nasty stuff will be revealed. And that’s a good thing because being forced to deal with vicious, evil people like you is a terrible experience.

  “So here’s what’s going to happen. Copies of all this stuff, along with the audiotape I’ve been making of this meeting will be placed in a safe place, with the custodian instructed to give it to the press if anything nasty happens to either of us. She will win, make no mistake about that because as of this moment, you’ve just decided to instruct your campaign to immediately stop running those ridiculous negative campaign ads that are totally false and misleading. And without saying something bad about her, you’re left with the alternative of saying something nice about yourself – and I don’t think the best political advisors in the world can create something to fill that bill. Do I make myself clear?

  “And by the way, I think you’re wasting your time running for the office of District Attorney. That’s only a County position. You’re a bad enough person to qualify for a much higher position in our state’s government. And with your wife’s backing, the sky’s the limit. I’d say that governor would be a nice stepping stone for you, on the way to Senator and then President.”

  The room is silent as I pick up my documents and exit with my file. I have a feeling that it’s been a successful morning. There’s a possibility that the outer office secretary may have been listening in on our meeting, because as I pass by her desk on the way out, she doesn’t offer to validate my parking stub.

  Punctual as usual, I pull up in front of Myra’s office building and am surprised to see who’s there waiting for me. Myra and Suzi. I’m informed that Suzi wants to see the Federal Court action, so Myra sent a taxi to bring her down here.

  In a way, I’m glad. She was instrumental in getting most of the information together and she’s entitled to watch a little bit of the action. The place will be full of cops and feds, so there’s no danger for her. I wouldn’t allow her to watch as we busted up the bank robbery gang, but the courtroom is a much more controlled place, so I feel okay about her being here.

  5

  T

  he downtown Federal Building is quite an impressive place. It’s nothing like the Municipal courts, with those halls full of drunk driving

  defendants and other forms of lowlifes meeting with

  their attorneys and arguing with their spouses. Everything here is neat and in its place and

  there’s a sense of order that pervades the building.

  No doubt about it - when you’re in this building,

  you’re in the major leagues of law.

  When we walk down the corridor I see that

  my instructions are being followed. The reporter and

  her camera crew are stationed outside a different

  courtroom, so as to not give any sense of danger to

  Handelmann. There are always high profile cases

  going on in this building, so it doesn’t look out of the

  ordinary to see a camera crew down the hall, outside

  of a courtroom.

  Lieutenant Evans is down there with the

  reporter, along with one of his detectives and two

  uniforms. I’m sure that the other detective is already

  seated in our courtroom, ready to signal the rest of

  them that it’s showtime.

  A clock on the wall shows five minutes

  remaining until one. In Federal Court, it doesn’t

  make any difference what time your wristwatch says

  because the judge will take the bench on Federal

  Courthouse time, as displayed on the wall clocks. A tall, slender man walks past us and enters

  the courtroom. It’s Handelmann. I look down the hall

  and see that Lieutenant Evans is nodding at me. He recognizes him too. Behind us, the elevator door opens and Charles Indovine steps out into the hall. We see each other. I nod to him. He ignores me. The executive-type with him must be the Uniman from Uniman Insurance. I hope he’s brought my check with him.

  Next out of the elevator is Special Agent Snell, followed by a small entourage of junior agents, a secretary, and a Federal Marshal. At least I get a nod of recognition from him as he passes by.

  With Handelmann already in the courtroom, I nod a signal to Lieutenant Evans and the crew that it’s okay now to come down the hall and gather outside this courtroom door, so they can all rush in when they get the signal.

  Myra, Suzi, and I step inside the courtroom. Handelmann is already at the counsel table. I walk over to the clerk of the court. She tells me that the Deputy Attorney General has been informed of what’s going to take place and he’ll just step back out of the way and let everyone do their job. Suzi positions herself just behind the front railing, so she can get a good view of the event. She has t
o stand on her toes to see over the railing top.

  I walk over to Handelmann. “Mister Handelmann? I’m from the Bail Bond Company. Do you have something for me? Just at that moment, the Federal Marshals bring in the two defendants. As the dog lady approaches Handelmann, they both exchange the same greeting. “Hello, Honey.” Interesting. I now see another interesting aspect of this strange group of people. Handelmann turns to me “Yeah, just a minute, I’ve got to get this draft signed by my client.” He takes it out of his briefcase and puts it down on the counsel table so that the dog-lady can sign off on it, just under where Handelmann has already affixed his signature.

  I glance toward the spectator seats and see Mister Uniman’s eyes bulge out as he sees the draft on the counsel table being signed. That old cocker’s vision must be pretty good for him to be able to recognize one of his company’s drafts at over twenty feet away. I look in his direction with an expression of confidence on my face. Charles Indovine is sitting next to him, not at all amused.

  Once the draft is signed, Handelmann picks it up off of the table and hands it to me. “Okay Mister Bail Bonds, do you have something for me?” Of course I have something for him. I motion to Myra that it’s her turn to step forward. At the same time, Evans’ detective, who is sitting in the back row, gets up and opens the hallway door. The reporter rushes in with the camera crew behind her. There’s also a guy with a long pole and a fuzzy attachment that’s probably a microphone. There’s a bright light on top of the camera and the whole crew is rapidly approaching the counsel tables, including Lieutenant Evans, the reporters, two detectives, and two uniformed L.A.P.D. officers.

  Handelmann turns around and sees the crowd approaching. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights. I glance toward the spectator seats and see a portion of the kid’s head peeking over the rail… she’s staying low, taking no chances.

  Myra steps up to Handelmann and makes me proud. Turning her head so that she’s partly facing the cameras and also facing Handelmann, she makes a brief announcement. “Richard Handelmann, my name is Myra Scot, special prosecutor for the County of Los Angeles District Attorney’s office. I’m placing you under arrest for the felony of insurance fraud.” With that, she looks at the Lieutenant. “Book him, Lieutenant Evans.” She then turns partly back towards Handelmann. “This is Lieutenant Sidney Evans of the Los Angeles Police Department. He will be taking you to the Van Nuys Division and you will be booked there.” She then turns to the Federal Marshal. “You can leave these defendants here…the judge will be out in a minute.”

  Wow, she really can perform. Not only does she announce to Handelmann what’s going on, she even goes so far as to give instructions to the police and the Marshal of the courtroom.

  The five policemen cuff Handelmann and slowly escort him out of the courtroom, so that the reporter and camera crew are able to easily keep up with them. I look back towards the rail and see an entire little head sticking up over it. I guess the action is all over so she thinks it’s safe to stand up. Myra walks out, following the parade. She doesn’t want to be too far from the press, because once Handelmann is in the squad car, they’ll be focusing on her – and she wants to make it easy for them.

  Settlement draft in hand, I walk back to the spectator section and approach Indovine and Uniman. Indovine seems to be having some difficulty looking me in the face. Uniman stands up and speaks to me. “Mister Sharp… can I call you Peter?” I nod yes. “Peter, I understand you have something for me.” He holds his hand out.

  “Yes, Mister Uniman… can I call you Murray?” I decide to anyway, even though he never nods his acceptance of my assumed familiarity with him. “I certainly do have something for you. Am I correct in assuming that you also have something for me?”

  I’m correct. There’s a trace of a smile on his face as he looks at Indovine. “Go ahead Charles, give it to him.” At this point, I hope it’s my check he’s talking about because I’m sure that Indovine probably feels like really ‘giving it to me’ with at least thirty-eight calibers.

  Per Mister Uniman’s instructions, Indovine stands up and hands me an envelope. I peek inside to make sure it’s the correct amount. It is, and I hand the draft to him. “Here, Charles, this is for your client. If I’m still working for you, you’re the one who hired me to bring this case to its conclusion, so you should take the credit for getting his money back.”

  Indovine is taken aback by my act of graciousness. “Listen here, Sharp… er, uh, Peter, I’m sorry about any misunderstanding we may have had in the past. I hope that you’ll continue to let us avail ourselves of your services.”

  That’s very nice of him. Uniman probably forced him into it. “No problem Charles, I can understand your actions. Your firm isn’t experienced in the seamy side of insurance fraud, so your advice to Mister Uniman to settle the case was probably the most prudent thing to do at the time.”

  Mister Uniman looks pleased. We all exchange nods and they leave the courtroom. Special Agent Snell passes by me on his way out. “Sharp, I don’t know how you do it, but as long as you don’t get in my way, I guess it’s okay. I’ll probably be hearing from you soon with that information, right?” I let him know that he’s right. I look down and see that the kid is standing right next to me, trying to get her share of the credit. I want to make sure that the Asian boys continue to deliver those Chinese gourmet meals to the boat, so I toss away a little credit. “Oh by the way, Agent Snell, this is my office manager, Suzi Braunstein. She’s the one who coordinates all my information.”

  Suzi looks up at Snell and decides to finish my sentence for me, as she gently grabs Uniman’s check out of my hand.

  “And makes the bank deposits.”

  Snell looks down at her. “Nice work Miss Braunstein, when you’re tall enough to see over the rail, come and see me… the F.B.I. is always looking for a few good people.” I look down at her. She’s actually blushing. Any other kid her age would probably be walking on cloud nine after getting a compliment like that from a senior special agent but we both know that she could never work for the FBI, or anyone else, for that matter. She’d never want to take the cut in pay.

  I take her by the hand and we start to leave the courtroom to find Myra, who has probably already made her statement to the press. We’ll catch it later tonight on the news.

  At exactly fifteen minutes after one, the Federal Marshal calls the court to order and the judge takes the bench. I feel a tug at my hand. The kid wants to stick around to see what the judge does, so we sit down in the back row. The case is called and the clerk hands a note up to him. He looks down at the defendants.

  “This court has been informed that your attorney will no longer be available to represent either one of you. Therefore, this case is being continued for ten days, at which time I would like to have a status report on your efforts to retain other counsel. In the meantime, I will instruct the Federal Defender’s Office to contact both of you, to assist you in your efforts to obtain counsel.”

  That having been said, he bangs his gavel, gets up and heads for the golf course. Suzi is impressed. We go outside to locate Myra the media star.

  Flush with our insurance reward money, I think it’s time to go shopping. Last year I told the broker at Purcell Yachts to keep his eye out for us. We’re looking for a Grand Banks 50 that’s in good shape. Suzi could easily write a check for the fiberglass model, but with me being forced to carry my end, we still can’t afford one of the newer ones, but there are quite a few beautiful old ‘woodies’ out there that have been meticulously maintained.

  N ow that Purcell thinks I can actually afford to buy a boat, his search has miraculously found a few for me to look at. Combining the reward money with everything I’ve got in my bank account and his giving us a decent amount for the forty-two footer we’re now living on, I think we should just about be able to swing what a wooden Grand Banks will cost.

  The Californian we’re now on is a nice boat but there’s nothing like a 50-foot Grand
Banks, complete with parquet floors, raised pilothouse, extra staterooms and lots and lots of room. We stayed on one for a while last year that was inherited by Stuart, but thanks to his letting the I.R.S. think he was the invisible man for about ten years, they decided it would be nicer in their Marina than ours.

  Purcell wants me to come and look at one nearby, so I’m on the way. I see that the lights are on in George Clooney’s boat. I leave word with the kid that if George stops by while I’m gone, to tell him that I’ll be back in less than an hour. I surely want to be on the boat in time for the six o’clock news, so I can see how Myra’s appearance came off. Suzi is sitting there waiting. She wants to watch too.

  Myra looks great on camera. It loves her almost as much as she loves it. There she is. The camera is shaky as it’s being hand-held and quickly carried through the double doors leading into the courtroom, following Myra and the reporter – and then there’s Myra making her announcement to Handelmann and bossing everyone in the courtroom around. She really knows how to take control… especially when I arrange to give it to her. I see that the reporter kept up her part of the bargain. I’m nowhere to be seen. It’s all Myra’s show.

  Next we see the camera follow her out of the building. Handelmann is rushed into a waiting squad car and whisked away. The reporter knew in advance what station Handelmann would be taken to, so I’m sure she arranged to have another crew standing by to see him brought out of the squad car and into the Van Nuys jail. The ‘perp walk.’

  Myra did a grea t job with her outdoor press conference. She explained how during the trial, her investigation led her to believe that there was more to the case than just Harold Blitzstien, but that Seymour didn’t want to hear any of it. Great! She took a little shot at him. It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

  Finally, and at my express instruction, the reporter asks her about her campaign plans. Myra really sticks it to Seymour by explaining that the office of the District Attorney should be more open to the policy of not getting too locked in on any one suspect – even after charges have been filed. That’s not fair to the people accused of crimes or to the public at large. She then does a beautiful job of explaining what’s wrong with the way the District Attorney’s office is being run now and how she intends to reform it after she takes office. Also as agreed, she praises the cooperation of Lieutenant Evans and his men, in her ongoing investigation and the arrest. Now I’m even with him. It’s nice to be able to pay off debts.