“Did I just hear your client say that you recruited her into a criminal conspiracy to distribute confidential records?” the judge demanded.
Howe didn’t answer.
“Mr. Howe, have you concealed material facts from this court?”
Howe was silent.
The judge glared at him. “You might want to think about getting a lawyer yourself,” she said. “I expect that I will be referring this matter to the State Bar’s Committee on Professional Responsibility.” She spun on her heel and stormed over to her desk, her black robe flying behind her. “It would appear that an attempt has been made to commit a fraud on this court for the purpose of staging political theater,” she said, her voice snapping with anger. “Does anyone here know of a reason that I shouldn’t declare a mistrial in this case?” No one answered her. The judge picked up a pen. “Everybody out,” she said.
Friday, August 11, 2056
Ronni Richards sat in a chair opposite the mayor’s desk with a two-inch-thick file folder resting on her lap. “This is the summary,” she said, handing the mayor a single sheet of paper.
Mayor Martinez placed the paper on the desk in front of her and stared down at it for a full minute. “What am I going to do?” she asked quietly.
Ronni Richards paused until she was sure the question was directed at her. When the mayor looked up, Ronni shrugged slightly. “You’ll have to reverse your position,” she said. “You’ll have to come out against re-trying Ted Braden and Jordan Rainsborough.”
“Law-and-Order Mayor Flip-Flops,” the mayor said, moving her hand across the headline of an imaginary newspaper.
“Mayor Martinez Has A Heart,” Ronni suggested.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” the mayor said glumly.
“Mayor Calls for Justice—Vows to Clean House,” Ronni tried.
“Better,” said the mayor.
“There’s really no choice here, Mayor.” Ronni opened the file folder and leafed through the pages. “Sixty-eight percent of likely voters think Ted Braden and Jordan Rainsborough were right to expose wrongful convictions, even if it meant breaking the law. That’s nationally. In California, it’s seventy-one percent.”
The mayor looked down at the sheet of paper in front of her. “Ted Braden’s approval rating is seventy-eight percent,” the mayor said. “Jordan Rainsborough’s approval rating, eighty-three percent. Eighty-three percent! Maybe I should cut my hair.”
“Only twelve percent of Californians think there should be a re-trial,” Ronni noted. “You’ve simply got to get this behind you. You have to support dropping the charges.”
The door of the office swung open and District Attorney Thomas J. Huron walked in. “There’s no way I’m going to re-try Jordan Rainsborough and Ted Braden,” he said firmly. “No way.”
“So I see,” the mayor answered.
“I know we have the evidence to put them away for life. But I’m not sacrificing my career to do it. No re-trial. No way.”
“Sit down, Tom. No one wants a re-trial. Show him the poll numbers, Ronni.”
Ronni Richards picked up the one-page summary from the mayor’s desk and handed it to the D.A. The index finger of his right hand traced down the margin of the page as he read. “Fifty-seven percent of California voters favor repeal of the 37th Amendment,” he said in wonder. “Where did that come from?”
“Is that registered voters?” the mayor asked, “Or likely voters?”
“Likely voters,” Huron said.
“What do you think?” the mayor asked. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe it’s a good idea to repeal the 37th Amendment.”
“No,” Huron said. “The restrictions that would put on law enforcement, the way it would hamstring prosecutors, you’d probably never be able to convict anybody of anything ever again. It’s insane to even think about bringing back due process.”
“I’m going to support it,” the mayor said.
“You’re going to support repeal?” Huron said incredulously. “You’re coming out for repeal?”
“Why not?” the mayor answered in a shrill voice. “Why do I have to be against something that fifty-seven percent of likely California voters are in favor of? What have I done to deserve that?”
“Taylor,” Huron said calmly, “I owe you my political career. But if you come out for repealing the 37th Amendment, I can’t support you.”
“If you don’t support me,” the mayor said, “you may find that your fund-raising operation is forced to rely on bake sales.”
Huron frowned. “Think it through, Taylor,” he said. “If the crime rates go back to what they were, it’s going to destroy the tax base of the city. Businesses are going to leave, property is going to fall in value. You won’t have the money for transportation projects, for police, for anything.”
“That’s years away,” the mayor said, waving her hand. “It will be somebody else’s problem by then.” She looked over at Ronni Richards, her eyes gleaming. “Call the Sunday talk shows,” she instructed. “Tell them we’re planning a major announcement and I’ll be available for interviews.”
CHAPTER 14
Ted Braden parked his four-door 1200GX as close as he could to the glass entrance of Devoy’s Market. He missed his Corvette, not that he would ever drive it to the supermarket and leave it defenseless against a wind-blown army of steel carts on wheels.
It didn’t take five seconds for someone to recognize him.
“You’re Ted Braden!” a woman said as the supermarket doors slid open in front of him. She nearly pushed her cart into his chest in her excitement. “Is Jordan here too?”
“No, she’s not. Nice to see you,” Ted said hurriedly. He grabbed a plastic shopping basket and rushed past the woman into the store.
“Hey, Ted Braden!” a man shouted from one of the check-out lines. Suddenly Ted was surrounded by people, some pushing supermarket receipts at him to autograph. “Where’s Jordan?” one voice asked. “Is Jordan here?”
Ted politely fended off the growing crowd and worked his way back toward the electric doors. “Gotta run,” he said. “Nice to see everybody.” He waved and backed out of the store as fast as he could. As the doors closed behind him, he heard the crowd break into applause.
Ted’s wireless rang as he was getting back into the car. “Hello?” he answered.
“Hi.”
“Jordan!” Ted said. “I have regards for you from sixty people at the supermarket.”
“It’s insane, isn’t it? You can’t imagine the scene I caused at the dry cleaners yesterday. Some guy offered me a thousand dollars for my dirty clothes.”
Ted thought about that for a moment. “Eee-yew,” he said.
“I know,” Jordan agreed. “I just picked up your message. Hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time.”
“Not at all,” Ted said. He started the engine and turned on the air conditioning. “I wanted to ask you if you’d have dinner with me tonight. I want to apologize for that whole incident at the house with Julia the other night.”
Jordan paused a moment before answering. “Okay,” she said. “I guess we should enjoy life while we still can.”
“I’ll pick you up,” Ted said, a little unsettled by her gloomy tone. “Where would you like to go?”
“We can’t go to a restaurant,” Jordan said. “We’ll be mobbed.”
“Oh, yeah,” Ted said. “Well, how about if you come over to my place at seven and we’ll figure it out from there?”
It was five o’clock when Ted heard an energetic knock on the door. He opened it to find Jordan standing there, looking like a Roman sculpture in an ivory washed-silk dress. She was beaming. “I know I’m early,” she said. “But I had to see your face when I told you.”
“Told me what?” Ted said.
“We’re off the hook!” Jordan nearly shouted, extending her arms with the triumph of a gymnast sticking a landing.
“What?”
“There isn’t going to be any re-trial!” she said. “I ju
st heard from my friend Carmen at work. She said Huron’s afraid it would end his political career. No re-trial. They haven’t announced it yet but all charges against us will be dropped!”
Ted took Jordan’s hand and pulled her into the house. “I don’t understand,” he said. “We had a mistrial. You told me that means the whole trial has be done over again.”
“Ordinarily, it would.” Jordan’s smile was dazzling. “But it turns out we are too popular to prosecute. We are about to be completely and totally free.” She stood very close to him and tilted her head back.
Ted felt tears start to well in his eyes. “I have to tell Flynn,” he said. He turned and raced for her bedroom door. Jordan’s smile fell. “I’ll be downstairs,” she said.
Jordan set her small handbag on the coffee table next to the living room sofa and took out her wireless. Suddenly it rang in her hand. “Jordan Rainsborough,” she answered. “Yes, I just said that. This is Jordan Rainsborough. Oh! Yes, I’ll hold for him.” She paced to the center of the room and back.
Ted came trotting down the stairs. “Flynn’s pretty excited,” he said. “She’s on the phone telling all her friends. I hope this wasn’t supposed to be a secret.” Jordan held a hand up to silence him. “Fine, thanks,” she said into the phone, “How are you, Mr. Beiderbeck?”
Ted’s eyes widened a little. She couldn’t be talking to Jeffrey Beiderbeck, he thought. It had to be a different Beiderbeck, not the cable television billionaire.
“Well, no, I’ve never done television before,” Jordan said. “But I’m sure I could learn.”
Ted sat down hard on one of the armchairs.
“This Monday? I don’t know if I can be there by Monday. I....” Jordan stopped abruptly and listened, her blue eyes sparkling. Ted watched as a dark flush of excitement crept over her cheeks. “That would be fine,” she said. “I’ll see you on Monday. Looking forward to it. Thanks for calling.” She pressed a button on the wireless and set it on the coffee table wordlessly.
“What was that all about?” Ted asked.
“Looks like I’m moving to New York,” Jordan said. “Jeffrey Beiderbeck just offered me an indecent amount of money to sign a contract with BTN. He said he wants me to co-host a new talk show to start, but then he has much bigger plans for me. He said I have what it takes to be the biggest star in the news business.”
“New York?” Ted said.
“Did you hear what I said?” Jordan asked. “I’m going to be a big star in the news business. I don’t have to go back to slaving away in the D.A.’s office in the hope of maybe someday being well-known enough to run for lieutenant governor.”
“How did he know you weren’t going to spend the rest of your life in jail?” Ted asked.
“He said one of his reporters got a tip from Huron’s office. Apparently the entire network was under orders to keep him up-to-date on me.”
“New York,” Ted said dully.
Jordan sat on the edge of Ted’s chair. “Why don’t you move with me?” she asked. “You’re in the advertising business. New York is perfect.”
Ted shook his head. “I won’t leave Flynn,” he said. “And I can’t move her out of state.”
Jordan looked at him for a moment. “That’s that, then,” she said. She stood up and walked to the windows, staring out at a sky that was dull with the heavy summer haze. The ring of a wireless broke the silence. “I’ll get it,” Jordan said, taking a step toward the coffee table. “No, it’s mine,” Ted said. He lifted his wireless out of its belt clip. “Hello?” he answered.
“Ted, it’s Dobson Howe. I have some very good news for you.” Ted allowed Howe to tell him the news. “That’s great,” he said, when Howe had finished.
“That’s all you have to say?” Howe said. “I thought you’d be more excited. Well, perhaps you need some time to let it sink in fully. I have to call Jordan and tell her.”
“She’s right here,” Ted said. “Hang on.” He handed the wireless to Jordan.
“Hello!” Jordan said brightly. “Is it official?”
“You already knew?” Howe asked. Ted could hear his voice booming from the little speaker all the way across the coffee table.
“I have my sources,” Jordan smiled. “Is it official?”
“It’s official. I just spoke to Huron personally. All charges dropped.”
“They’re not bringing any charges against you, I hope.”
“No,” Howe laughed. “I’ll have to deal with the State Bar of California. But I think I can handle them.”
“That’s great,” Jordan said. “Why don’t you come over to Ted’s house right now and let’s celebrate. Bring Tiffany. We were just going to order in some dinner.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” Howe said.
Jordan gave Howe directions to Ted’s house, clicked the wireless off and handed it back to Ted. He accepted it silently and clipped it back on his belt. “What’s wrong?” Jordan asked. “I hope you don’t mind that I invited them over.”
“No,” Ted said.
“Then what is it?”
“You’re still upset about that incident with Julia, aren’t you?” he asked. “It didn’t mean anything, Jordan. I just didn’t want her to be hurt. That’s why I ran after her.”
“Fine, Ted. Whatever you say.”
“That’s why you’re leaving town, isn’t it?”
Jordan looked at him, incredulous. “Ted, this is a great opportunity for me. It has nothing to do with you.”
“You could get an offer in L.A.,” he said. “You don’t want one.”
Jordan shook her head. “Of all the self-centered, egocentric things I’ve ever heard...” she began.
“I’m self-centered?” Ted said, raising his voice just slightly. “You’re the one who has to be a TV star.”
“As opposed to what?” Jordan demanded. “Permanent second-fiddle to your daughter?”
Ted couldn’t believe he’d heard that. “Somebody once told me you were high-maintenance,” he said.
“Who? Who said that?”
Ted shrugged. He picked up the TV remote from a table next to his armchair and turned on a baseball game.
“Okay,” Jordan said in a chilly tone. “I’ll go into the kitchen and get the take-out menus.”
“Top drawer of the desk,” Ted said.
“Fine,” Jordan answered. She stormed across the room and up the stairs.
Ted’s wireless and the telephone in the house rang at the same time. Ted answered the wireless. “Hello?” he said.
“Ted, James Dixon. Just called to say congratulations. You heard the news, right?”
“Hey, James, thanks for calling,” Ted said warmly. “How’d you hear about it?”
“You’re all over the news, pal.”
“Yeah?” Ted picked up the remote control and surfed through the channels. All the news networks and two of the broadcast networks were covering the story. Two channels were showing pictures of him, three had pictures of him with Jordan, and one was doing a live interview with Dobson Howe. BTN was showing a clip of Jordan getting out of a car.
“How’d you like to sell me the Corvette?” James asked.
Ted laughed. “No,” he said. “I guess I’ll fly up and drive it back.”
“Let me drive it to L.A.,” James said. “I’ll ride the Harley back.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Ted said.
“Dad, Rocki’s on the phone from the office,” Flynn called from the top of the stairs.
“Okay, sweetheart, I’ll pick it up,” Ted said. “James? I’ve got to run. Thanks for calling.”
“No problem,” James said. “Say hi to Grandma for me.”
Ted put the wireless down and picked up a cordless phone from the table next to his armchair. “Hello, Rocki, my love,” he said, “Has the boss decided to come crawling back to me on his hands and knees?”
“You said it, I didn’t,” Rocki said. “Hang on.” Thin-sounding Mozart played through the phone
line. Ted’s wireless rang. He held it to his free ear. “Hello?” he answered.
“Ted, Christina Ferragamo.”
“Hi, Christina. How are you?”
“Great, just great. Listen, I can guarantee you an hour of prime time if you’ll give me an exclusive first interview tomorrow night. What do you say? Don’t talk to anybody else until after it airs and I’ll give you the full hour. Prime time.”
“I don’t know,” Ted said. “I think I’ve been on TV enough for one lifetime.”
“Sorry, Ted.” It was Rocki, back on the phone.
“Hang on, Rocki,” he said. He put the phone down and returned to Christina on the wireless. “Thanks anyway, Christina,” he said. “I’ve got to run.” He clicked off and returned to Rocki. “Sorry about that,” he said.
“That’s okay,” Rocki answered. “The boss wants to know if you can come in and see him tomorrow morning at ten.”
“I’ll be there,” Ted said.
“Thank goodness,” Rocki sighed. “I’ll be so happy when everything’s back to normal.” She clicked off.
Ted fielded calls from friends and reporters for another fifteen minutes before he finally switched everything over to the message system. Just as he finished keying in the code, he heard the doorbell ring. “I’ll get it,” Jordan called from upstairs. Ted heard the voices of Howe and Tiffany at the front door. He walked over to the stairs.
“Come in,” he called. Howe was holding Tiffany’s hand as they came down the stairs into the living room, followed by Jordan. “Congratulations,” Howe boomed.
“No, congratulations to you,” Ted said. “You did it. And without much help from us, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Howe rumbled.
“I would. Listen, I want to apologize for thinking, for not, you know, uh...”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Howe said with a wave of his hand. “I probably should have explained myself a little more clearly.”
“Is this a private conversation?” Tiffany asked, “Or can anyone be confused?”
“Jordan and I thought,” Ted began, then hesitated. “We weren’t sure...”
“They thought I was going to sacrifice them to prove how unfair the justice system has become,” Howe said with a smile. “They thought I was stirring up publicity and news coverage so that when they went off to jail, it would spur a groundswell to repeal the 37th Amendment and restore due process to the Constitution.”
The 37th Amendment: A Novel Page 22