Legally Wasted

by Tommy Strelka

  Tiny security cameras buried in off-white crown molding high above honed in on Larkin as he was led by a marshal toward one of the tables. News cameras dotting the front lines of the packed gallery swiveled as he made his way toward his seat. He scanned the audience for Madeline or Ryan but he could not find them among the throng of people who had packed the courthouse that morning. He searched the crowd so intently, he completely overlooked the prosecution’s table.

  “Mr. Monroe,” said an all too familiar voice to Larkin’s left. He turned to see Wendy McAdams seated as lead counsel for the prosecution. His face dropped. She clicked the heels of her long black boots in delight. “Nice to see you here this morning, Mr. Monroe.”

  He shook his head. “This is a federal action,” said Larkin. “You have no right to be here. You’re state court, Wendy. You’re not a federal prosecutor.”

  She smiled. “Interesting choice of words given that many would argue that you have no right to be here.” She straightened her glasses to get a better look at his jailbird duds.

  Sweat formed at the top of his brow. He stared at the empty Judge’s bench. “We’ll see,” he said. Larkin gripped the thick fabric bunching up beneath his knees and straightened his jumpsuit. His stomach twisted as it recalled the last time he had tangled with Wendy McAdams.

  “All rise,” one of the bailiff’s bellowed. Larkin jumped from his seat, but a strong hand, courtesy of the U.S. Marshal’s Service, clamped on his left shoulder and pinned him to the chair. “Oy ye, oy ye,” the bailiff shouted. “Silence is commanded. The Honorable United States District Court Judge Victoria Wexler presiding. Please come to order. This Court is now in session.”

  Judge Wexler walked briskly into the courtroom, her judicial robe billowing impressively behind her small frame. Quite some time had passed since Larkin had last seen Judge Wexler. He had not attended her son’s funeral and his limited law practice never sent him to federal court. Despite the years, she looked just as spry and energetic as she had seemed when Larkin had won his freedom. Not a gray hair shone in her neatly styled short red hair.

  “Please be seated,” she said as she made her way to her chair. The courtroom was filled with the sounds of shuffling feet. “Will the Clerk please call the case?”

  A woman seated at a desk just a bit lower than the Judge’s bench stood. She clasped a paper tightly in her hand, but the video cameras must have got the best of her. The document shook in her thin fingers. “Bedford County and others versus Trans-Appalachian Railways, Virginia Supreme Court Case Number, 09954268.”

  “Is the petitioner ready?” the Judge asked as she looked at Larkin. Her bright eyes showed no pity. Larkin scooted his chair back, but Wendy McAdams was at her feet before he had a chance to stand.

  “Your Honor, I’m Wendy McAdams, special appointed prosecutor for the Commonwealth of Virginia. Mr. Monroe is not a party to Bedford County versus Tran-Appalachian Railways. He has never been a party to that matter. It is a state civil court action. Mr. Monroe has no standing and this court has no jurisdiction to hear anything that he may say.” Two federal prosecutors nodded in agreement at Wendy’s table.

  “I see,” said Judge Wexler.

  “His only point to this whole farce is to somehow cast slanderous remarks on high-ranking officials in the state government in order to cause a spectacle. Mr. Monroe is charged with murder and this action here today is a violation of due process.”

  “I thought due process protected the accused,” said the Judge. Wendy opened her mouth as if to speak but then suddenly fell silent. Her mouth hung open for too long as she considered her words. She was a damned fine attorney on her feet, but this was the big leagues.

  “Your Honor,” she finally said after flipping through some pages on her table, “due process ensures that the accused has a right to the protections of the judicial system. By holding this very hearing, this Court has suspended that right. Mr. Monroe has a right to be heard in the Big Lick City Circuit Court for the crimes of which he has been charged. He does not have the right to collaterally attack due process with these proceedings. The State moves to quash all of Mr. Monroe’s subpoenas and end this matter. If he had due process arguments, the state courts have avenues. After he is jailed and sentenced to life in prison, for example, he can file a habeas petition.”

  The Judge raised her eyebrows. “I get your point, Ms. McAdams.” She rotated her chair ever so slightly. “Mr. Monroe?” Larkin stood. Every head to his right turned to view him. “What would you have to say after all of that?” asked the Judge. “Am I violating your due process rights?”

  “No, ma’am,” said Larkin. “You’re going to ensure that they’re protected.”

  “And how will I do that, Mr. Monroe?”

  Larkin cleared his throat. “Your Honor, we’re here on my Motion for a Writ of Coram Nobis.”

  “I’m aware of that, counselor,” said the Judge. She picked up a copy of Larkin’s handwritten papers that he had drafted at Millie’s house. “Do you even know what that Motion is, counselor?”

  “Yes, your Honor,” said Larkin. “I believe it has been referred to as ‘the most extraordinary writ.’”

  The Judge nodded. “That’s right. I’ve read that too. Those are strong words. Do you realize that a Writ of Coram Nobis has not been granted, as far as I’m aware, since - -”

  “The nineteen forties, your Honor,” said Larkin. “It’s the writ that allows this Court to examine a grave injustice. When there is no other remedy at law, and yet injustice would still stand, the writ must be granted.”

  “Your Honor,” interjected Wendy, “the Writ of Coram Nobis was used for redress after the Japanese internment camps of World War II. This is not the internment camps. Mr. Monroe is not a marginalized people or a political prisoner of the state. Mr. Monroe has a remedy at law. It is to face his charges with all the constitutional guarantees of due process in the Commonwealth’s courts. This court can end this hearing and due process can continue. Mr. Monroe will be afforded all of the rights deemed appropriate and just pursuant to Virginia’s legal system. He will have the opportunity to prove his innocence in a court of law just like everyone else.”

  The Judge nodded. “I feel that I understand your position, Ms. McAdams. You’ve done the research.”

  “Yes, your Honor,” said Wendy, “and furthermore, Coram Nobis is restricted, I believe, to the actual trial court, not any trial court that - -”

  “Ms. McAdams?” interrupted the Judge.

  “Yes?” Wendy brushed a loose strand of her curly blond hair from her face.

  “Will you do the Court the honor of allowing me to compliment the Commonwealth?”

  Wendy opened her mouth, but no words came. She finally nodded and sat down.

  “Thank you, Ms. McAdams,” continued the Judge. “I love when my attorneys come to me with their bases covered. I take it you’ve researched the Writ of Coram Nobis through and through?”

  “Absolutely,” said Wendy.

  “And would you agree with the Court, Mr. Monroe,” said the Judge as she glanced in his direction, “that it is the most extraordinary writ?”

  “I would, your Honor.”

  The Judge’s eyes darted back to Wendy. “Then the Commonwealth of Virginia should understand this Court’s interest in further inquiry at this time. If it so extraordinary, I must know if Mr. Monroe can demonstrate any basis for the extreme possibility of me granting it.”

  One of Wendy’s black boots stomped on the wooden floor. A nearby bailiff involuntarily gripped his baton. Larkin silently hoped that the attorney for the State was about to get thumped. “Your Honor,” she nearly shouted, “you can’t possibly - -”

  “Ms. McAdams,” said the Judge. She did that amazing thing with her voice where she broadcasted very loudly, yet her tone remained classy and controlled, essentially unchanged. “I didn’t say that I would grant the writ. I said I would hear the man out. I don’t believe due process would be offended if I permit Mr. Monr
oe to make his case as to why he deserves such a writ.” Again, the Judge swiveled, but only slightly. “Mr. Monroe? Will you please state your case?”

  “Gladly, your Honor.” Larkin turned and looked though the crowd again. “Uh, your Honor,” he said after several moments of frantically searching among the faces, “I believe that I effectively served several individuals with notice to be here today.”

  “And they may be,” said the Judge. “I have excluded all witnesses.”

  Larkin faced the Court. “You did? There has been no motion.”

  “I motioned,” said Ms. McAdams as she popped back from her chair. She looked to Larkin. “Pre-trial motion,” she said. “Ex parte.”

  “Ex parte?” repeated Larkin. “Your Honor, the Court cannot have - -”

  Judge Wexler raised her hand. A pearl bracelet slid down her wrist resting mid-way down her forearm. For the first time in the hearing, she scowled. “Mr. Monroe, notwithstanding any clarification you may provide regarding the merits of your case, Ms. McAdams is far closer to the bull’s eye on a number of her arguments than you think. If she wants to protect her client on a number of pre-trial issues, I will allow it. You are asking for something extraordinary, maybe even something impossible.” She leaned forward. The fabric of her judicial robe rubbed against the microphone and created an unpleasant noise on the court’s audio system. “You ask for the extraordinary and extraordinary measures are taken. I would not deign to afford you a hearing on such a writ without first hearing from the other party.” The Judge stared at Larkin. Time passed, but Larkin could not tell how long, only that it lasted. “I just placed my gavel securely between you and the criminal justice system so you can get five minutes of time on that stand. This Court has been lenient enough. You have the floor.”

  Larkin nodded. He had knocked and Judge Wexler had opened the courthouse door, but it ended there. No more favors. He needed to make his case. “The petitioner calls Trevor Meeks,” your Honor.

  The crowd whispered on cue and the television cameras panned the room. The door that Larkin had used to enter the courtroom swung aside and Trevor strode into the room as if the opening act had ended and the headliner had hit the stage. There might as well have been a spotlight and theme music. He headed toward the witness stand. If the room had not seemed like an episode of Law and Order before, it did now. Trevor looked like a recurring guest star. When he raised his hand to be sworn in, three members of the audience raised their hands and waived back.

  “Good to see you, Judge,” he said with the slightest nod.

  “Mr. Meeks,” said the Judge, “please answer Mr. Monroe’s questions.”

  Larkin began to circle his table, but Uncle Sam’s strong grip forced him back into his chair. “Good Lord,” said Larkin with an eye roll. He stared at the large hands at his shoulders locking him in place. “Your Honor, may I approach the witness?”

  “So allowed,” said the Judge.

  Larkin stood, unhindered by the U.S. Marshal’s service, and approached the witness stand. “Please state your name for the record.”

  “Trevor Meeks.”

  “Mr. Meeks, do you know me?”

  “I would have to say that I do.” He looked toward the nearest camera. “I cannot tell a lie.” He winked.

  “How do you know me?”

  “You’re my lawyer and my friend.” He again looked to the camera. “I’ve found in my life that keeping your friends close and your lawyer even closer is the best policy.”

  “Objection, your Honor,” said Wendy. “This witness is being evasive.”

  “He’s my witness, Ms. McAdams,” said Larkin, “why don’t you let me decide if he’s being evasive.”

  “Shockingly that’s my decision,” said the Judge. “Mr. Meeks,” called the Judge, “why don’t you just answer the questions asked of you. Do you think you can handle that?”

  “Of course, Judge,” said Trevor.

  “Proceed, Mr. Monroe.”

  “Thanks, Judge.” Wendy sat down but she rested on the edge of her seat while her fingernails drummed against the desktop. Larkin was going to need to keep his questioning as proper as possible or she would be hopping up and down all morning. “Mr. Meeks, do you recall driving with me just a few days ago?”

  “Objection,” said Wendy, “leading, foundation.”

  “I’ll rephrase,” said Larkin before the Judge had a chance to chime in. “Mr. Meeks - -”

  “Still here,” said Trevor.

  “Do you own a car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you, on occasion ever give rides to anyone?”

  “Friends and family.”

  “As my friend have you ever driven a car in which I might be the passenger?”

  “Sure have.”

  “Do you recall such an incident occurring recently?”

  “Sure do.”

  “Who else was in your car?”

  Trevor nodded. “Well, there was me, you, and my daughter - -”

  “Your daughter?” asked Larkin.

  “Yes. Ryan. Ryan Meeks.”

  Larkin rested his hands on one of the wooden rails encircling the witness box. “Was there anyone else in the car besides me, you and your daughter?”

  “Yes, sir. A funny guy. Glasses. Andre or Anthony or something. Real head case. Sad, really.”

  “Do you know where this person was employed?”

  “Yes, sir. He works for the Supreme Court.” Trevor winked at the Judge. “Of Virginia.”

  “Do you remember having a conversation with this individual?”

  “Sure do. But not a pleasant one, by any means.”

  “Do you remember anything else about this Supreme Court of Virginia employee’s job?”

  “Objection, hearsay,” said Wendy.

  Larkin turned to the Judge. “Your Honor, I did not ask what this individual said, only if the witness remembered anything further.”

  The Judge’s forehead wrinkled. “Oh, hearsay,” she sighed. Her fingers rubbed a spot on the bridge of her nose where the itch of hearsay might be scratched. “I’ll allow it,” she said after a moment. “But there’s thin ice, Mr. Monroe and there’s thin ice. Be sure you know which you’re on. Please answer the question, Mr. Meeks.”

  Trevor thought for a moment. “I believe he did, but honestly, I was trying to tune him out.”

  “Do you remember if he said where he might be working after his clerkship ended?”

  “Same objection, your Honor,” said Wendy.

  “Sustained,” said the Judge. “Mr. Monroe, we’re wading in hearsay here.”

  “Yes, your Honor.” Larkin nodded toward Trevor. “He’s all yours, Ms. McAdams.” Larkin walked back to his seat. “Good luck.”

  “Mr. Meeks,” said Wendy before Larkin could even seat himself. “Isn’t it true that you assisted your good friend Larkin Monroe in breaking into and entering the home of Justice Lloyd Byrd at Smith Mountain Lake?”

  “You got that right,” said Trevor. “I like those boots.”

  “Um,” said the Judge, “Mr. Meeks, perhaps I should advise you of your Fifth Amendment right not to incriminate yourself.”

  “Gotcha,” said Trevor. He snapped his fingers. “I will always take free legal advice from a federal judge.”

  “He’s already waived that privilege, your Honor,” said Wendy as she drew closer to the witness stand. “His first statement was an admission. He was advised of his rights when he was arrested.”

  “Your Honor?” asked Trevor.

  “Yes?” asked the Judge.

  “How come Ms.,” Trevor turned to Wendy, “what was the name again?”

  “McAdams,” said Wendy.

  Trevor stared at her for a moment. “Ms. McAdams,” he repeated before turning back to the Judge. “How come Ms. McAdams can walk right up to me in those great boots and Mr. Monroe had to ask for permission?” Trevor again turned to Wendy. “Don’t get me wrong, Ms. McAdams, you can approach my box any time.”

&nb
sp; Giggles and nervous shoe shuffling could be heard from the audience.

  “Ms. McAdams,” said the Judge, “perhaps you should - -”

  “Permission to approach, your Honor?”

  “Granted,” said the Judge.

  Wendy approached. “So you freely and voluntarily admit that you and Mr. Monroe both broke into and entered Justice Byrd’s home?”

  “You heard me, Ms. McAdams. I haven’t stuttered since the second grade.” A member of a news crew laughed out loud. Judge Wexler shook her head.

  “Why were you assisting Mr. Monroe in his felonious enterprise?”

  “Enterprise? We weren’t going into business.”

  “Why did you break into the house?”

  “I think we were looking for some evidence.”

  “Evidence? Of What?”

  Trevor looked to Larkin.

  “He can’t answer for you,” Wendy said. She gripped the edge of the witness box. “You have to answer my question.”

  “To be honest,” started Trevor, “I’m a bit unsure myself why we were there. I know it had to do with Larkin being framed for murdering this law clerk, and the Justice had a part in it, but any more than that, I really can’t say.”

  “You can’t say or you won’t say, Mr. Meeks?” She crossed her arms.

  “Can’t. I really had no clue at the time what we were specifically looking for and I have no idea now.”

  Wendy raised her arms in dramatic exasperation and looked at the Judge. “So you’re telling this Court that you, a wealthy, successful businessman and local politician just all of a sudden decided to break into a Judge’s home merely because your friend wanted you to help him?”

  Trevor nodded.

  “You’ll have to answer yes or no, Mr. Meeks,” said Wendy.

  “It’s Trevor,” said Trevor, “and you nailed it.”

  “You realize that there is no logic in that answer.”

  “Sure there is,” said Trevor. “You don’t know Larkin. If he told me that he could fix things with a little midnight shenanigans, I trusted him. He’s a lot brighter than you give him credit for.”