Sins of the Fathers

by James Scott Bell

  “I feel better than I look,” Lindy said. “I know that’s not saying much, but there it is. I won’t be playing handball anytime soon, but I want to continue representing my client.”

  “But that’s not determinative in this matter. The law determines whether you shall continue, and I have great discretion under the law.”

  Everett Woodard said, “As Your Honor well knows, the presumption in favor of allowing a client to choose his attorney makes the exercise of your discretion narrow in its scope.”

  “Thank you, Professor. I do know the law. Now, Ms. Field, how can you assure me that you will be able to meet timetables?”

  “I’m fully able to comply. I’ve already cleared this with my doctor.”

  “But you might require treatments, therapy, surgery perhaps.”

  “I really don’t think so, Your Honor.”

  “Thinking is not good enough.”

  “What else can I do?”

  “You can remember this is a court of law. This is not the Lindy Field show, no matter how many cameras are out there.”

  Bristling, Lindy said, “Your Honor, I assure you I’m not doing this for publicity.”

  “Nevertheless, if you continue in this capacity you are going to generate a lot of attention from the media. That could prove a distraction, to the ultimate detriment of your client.”

  Lindy looked at Leon Colby, who was standing by the judge’s bookcase. “What about the publicity for Mr. Colby? Are you as concerned that he is using this trial as a platform from which to run for office?”

  Colby put his hands out toward the judge. “Your Honor, please.”

  “I agree,” Judge Weyer said. “Ms. Field, this hearing is about you. Let’s try to stay focused.”

  “My client wants me. I want to continue. I am going to continue—”

  Everett stopped her with a hand to her shoulder.

  After a short pause, Judge Weyer said, “I know this has been a very stressful time for you. The accident, the attention of the press, all that. And I can see that it has caused you emotional upset. That’s another factor I have to take into consideration here. I have to do what I think is right under the law to protect your client. Sometimes, clients need protection from their own counsel.”

  “Judge, let me—”

  Weyer put her hand up. “No need. I know your position. Give me half an hour and I’ll come out and make a ruling.”

  9.

  “I blew it.”

  Lindy sat dejectedly in Judge Greene’s chambers. Luckily he was not in trial. She needed to talk to him.

  “Don’t give it another thought,” Greene said. “Weyer is good. She’ll be reasonable.”

  “I don’t know. She and Colby seem to be on the same wavelength. I don’t think either one of them wants me around. I get the feeling they talked about this before I got a chance to make my case.”

  “Judge Weyer may have a point. If Darren is bound over for trial, which is likely, why not leave the trial with Everett? You have to take care of you for a change. There will be other cases.”

  “I don’t want to think about other cases. I want to help my client.”

  Greene’s face registered concern. “Lindy, you know how fond I am of you. I don’t want to see you go down a road that will take another mental toll. I’ve been around a long time. And there was a time I used to think like Spencer Tracy in Boys Town. Remember that movie?”

  “I think I saw it when I was a kid.Tracy played a priest or something.”

  “Yes. Father Flanagan. A real guy who set up a place in Nebraska for wayward boys. Back in the thirties. Anyway, the big line in the movie is ‘There is no such thing as a bad boy.’ And people used to believe that, and they shed a tear over Mickey Rooney reforming. But I don’t believe that any more. By the time kids today reach your client’s age, things are pretty well set.”

  Lindy felt a hollow place open up inside her chest. “We can’t believe that. We can’t just give up.”

  “It’s not a matter of giving up. There will be exceptions. But they’re rare. It doesn’t seem to me that your client is one of the rare ones. But if you think he is and go all out, I just don’t see that helping you.”

  “But Judge, it can’t be about me, can it? I mean, isn’t that the role of the lawyer? I sat down there in Judge Weyer’s chambers while she all but accused me of using this trial for personal gain. Look at me! Do you think I need to be here? This isn’t about me. This has never been about me.”

  The moment she said it, she knew it didn’t sound convincing.

  Judge Greene let the comment slide. She loved him for that. “Let’s wait to see what Judge Weyer says.”

  10.

  Mona chose to stay in the courtroom during the recess. The other VOICe members were out milling around. For some reason she did not want to be with them.

  She hardly knew what she wanted anymore. Her insides knotted up every time she thought about the case, and she could think of nothing else. The killer, all this talk about forgiving him. Syl’s and Pastor Clark’s voices kept interrupting her own thoughts of justice.

  And the killer’s lawyer—how was it possible she was still involved, after what she’d been through? What was driving that woman?

  Forty-five minutes dragged on like hours. Then, to Mona’s relief, Judge Doreen Weyer entered the courtroom to make her ruling.

  Lindy Field would no longer be the attorney for Darren DiCinni.

  Everett Woodard then made his argument for dismissal. It took fifteen minutes. Then Judge Weyer ordered DiCinni bound over for trial on six counts of murder, with special circumstances.

  FOURTEEN

  1.

  A cheer went up from the members of VOICe as Benni Roberts held up her champagne glass. Mona held a glass, but did not cheer or drink.

  They were gathered at Benni Roberts’s house for the post-prelim celebration and strategy session. Benni looked flush with victory.

  “This only goes to show, once again, what common people working together can do,” Benni said. “It’s the whole reason VOICe was formed. You are all doing a marvelous job.”

  Benni cast a quick glance at Mona, who forced a smile.

  “And let’s drink to the absence of Miss Lindy Field. She was beginning to divert a little too much attention from the real issues.”

  “She’s a defense lawyer,” someone said. “That’s all they ever do.”

  Murmurs of agreement spread through the room.

  Another woman said, “Now that she’s off, George, what happens next?”

  George Mahoney, sitting in the large chair in the corner, sipped his champagne. Mona thought he looked a bit like a king after a successful battle, gazing over the field of dead bodies, readying plans for the next fight. “This guy Everett Woodard is a professional. He’ll do his job, Colby will do his, and justice will be done. Woodard won’t make a lot of trouble the way Lindy Field did.”

  “You think there’ll be a plea bargain?” Benni asked.

  “I’ve let Colby know that the only plea that’s going to be agreeable to us is one that puts that kid away for at least twenty-five. Nothing less. And no insanity plea. He tries that, and we’ll come down on that office so hard the Richter scale will register it.”

  Benni said, “On to the hors d’oeuvres!”

  People began mingling, chatting, munching. Mona took an egg roll and sat off in a corner. Benni came to her almost immediately.

  “Mona, you look out of it, if you don’t mind my saying.”

  “Sorry. I don’t feel very sociable.”

  “Something bothering you? About the case?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. You can tell me.”

  Mona hesitated then dove in. “I have the strangest feeling. For Lindy Field. I feel sorry for what happened.”

  “Oh sure, nobody wanted to see her get hurt like that.”

  “Didn’t we?”

  Benni just looked at her.

  Mo
na said, “Maybe I’m just speaking for myself. But a lot of ill feelings are shared in our meetings.”

  “But isn’t that part of the point?” Benni said, acting like a patient schoolteacher. “If we don’t have anger and passion about these evil acts, they’re going to continue. That’s one of the reasons VOICe came into being. We are speaking for people who need us.”

  “I understand all that.”

  “Don’t you hate what that monster did to your son? I’m sorry to be so blunt, but I don’t think you should let go of that.”

  Mona shook her head slowly. “Is hatred right?”

  “Sometimes, sure. Even the Bible says God hates evil.”

  “Then why don’t I feel relief? Why don’t I feel like God is in this at all?”

  Benni walked Mona out to her car. Mona’s four-year-old blue Hyundai sat like an unwanted neighbor at the curb in front of the expensive home.

  “You just remember to keep relying on us,” Benni said. “You’re going to have all sorts of feelings pass through you. I know. I’ve been down that road before.”

  And then Benni hugged Mona. It felt awkward, a forced intimacy of strangers thrown together by mutual crises.

  But Mona credited her disquiet to the stress of getting justice for Matthew. She told herself to give the whole process more time. As she drove away, she looked back and saw Benni giving her a wave. She was standing next to her beautiful, black Mercedes convertible, the perfect car for one of the leading real-estate agents in the Valley.

  2.

  It was nearly 8:00 p.m. when Roxy dropped Lindy off at Law Dogs on Reseda Boulevard. The hot dog stand was run by an old friend of Lindy’s, Evan Moody. He had a network of lawyer friends who’d come down on designated nights, fill up on wieners and Coke, and dispense quick legal advice to Evan’s customers.

  Evan reserved one table in an enclosed, outside patio for private consultations. Lindy had given enough free legal advice at Law Dogs that Evan offered her the table for conferences any time she wanted.

  It was here that she arranged to meet Leon Colby. Neutral territory, and not a place the press would be watching. He had seemed somewhat amused by her request, but he had agreed to come. That was the main thing.

  Lindy parked herself on the bench facing the street. She could see more that way. What she expected to see, she wasn’t quite sure.

  Colby arrived just past eight, dressed in shirtsleeves, his tie loosened. The relaxed prosecutor, the one holding all the cards.

  “Evening, Lindy,” he said. “Nice office you got here.”

  “Let’s get to the important stuff, shall we?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like do you want chili on your hot dog or not?”

  Colby laughed. “Chili, cheese, and onions. And let me buy.”

  “In that case I’ll have the same, with fries and a large Coke.”

  Colby went inside to order. Lindy watched him through the window, wondering what she’d think of him if he hadn’t prosecuted the Marcel Lee case. He looked like a man people could trust. But could you fully trust a lawyer turned politician? She wanted to know what was going on inside his head.

  He came back with the food and settled in opposite Lindy. “I want you to know,” he said, “that I’m glad you called me.”

  “Glad?”

  “Look, I know there’s not a lot of love lost here. But I want you to know I respect you.”

  “Well. Thanks. I guess.”

  “That’s the only reason I’m here. Respect. Most defense lawyers in this town, they call me, I’m putting ’em on hold. You I’ll talk to. How’s that arm?”

  Lindy tapped her cast on the table. “I’m getting good with my left hand. Watch.” She took a bite of chili dog, using her left hand to do it. A glob of chili dropped on her chin. Her other hand was useless for napkin grabbing.

  Colby chuckled. “Yeah, you got it mastered.” He reached over with a clean napkin and wiped her chin.

  “Tell me something, Leon. Why is it you’re not married?”

  “You kidding?”

  “I’m interested.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe I’m trying to decide if I’m gonna vote for you.”

  He paused a moment, then took a big bite from his dog. Half of it disappeared.

  “Mmm,” he said after some substantial chewing, “these aren’t half bad.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Was once. About two years’ worth. But it didn’t work out. Maybe because I was working all the time. I can’t blame her for walking out.”

  “Nobody else after that?”

  “Just why did you ask me to come here, Lindy?”

  “You’re not answering again.”

  “And we’re not in court.”

  “I’m here because I think, down inside you, there’s more than just ambition.”

  “What makes you say that? Not that I’m fishing for compliments.”

  “Oh no. What politician would ever do that? But I know something about you, Leon.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your father’s a minister.”

  Leon paused with the last vestige of his hot dog halfway to his mouth. He looked at her with an astonished gaze. “You’ve been investigating me?”

  “It’s amazing what the Internet can do these days.”

  “So I have a father. He’s a preacher. You want to connect this up for me?”

  “You believe in God?”

  “None of your business.”

  Lindy paused. “You’re right. It’s just that this case has God in it somewhere.”

  “And you think that place is DiCinni’s head.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  “Woodard can try to convince a jury.”

  Colby sipped his Coke, leaving Lindy to make more of a mess with her chili dog. This time she wiped her own face.

  “Something tells me there’s more to this meeting,” Colby said. “Am I wrong?”

  That Colby. He always did have good instincts. Lindy said, “Did you get a copy of the video yet?”

  “I’ve seen it, yeah.”

  “The one that they showed on TV?”

  “Sure.”

  “Or did you see the uncut version?”

  “Uncut?” Colby raised his eyebrows.

  “I saw it. When I went over to McIntyre’s place.”

  “You and he still an item?”

  “No. Stop distracting me.”

  Colby smiled. “Then how come you’re not married?”

  “Focus, will you?”

  “What does it matter? They showed parts of a video on TV. We all saw it. We all got copies of it. It’s not going to make a difference in the grand scheme of things.”

  “But why doctor it?”

  “Who says it’s doctored? There’s a difference between editing and doctoring.”

  “That’s the whole thing. It’s different. Not just because of the editing.”

  “Different how?”

  “I’m not sure. Not until we get the original. Which is why I want you to issue a subpoena.”

  “On McIntyre?”

  “Exactly.”

  After a sip of Coke, Colby said, “Nobody can say you don’t have chutzpah.”

  “What do you say?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. That would cause some ripples. I don’t think I’ll even use the video in court. Normally I wouldn’t give away my little secrets, Lindy, but this one’s not going to make or break either one of us.”

  “What if it did, though?”

  “How could it possibly? It shows the kid spraying bullets. We have plenty of eye witnesses.”

  Lindy squeezed her napkin. “What?”

  “What?”

  “What you said.”

  “What’d I say?”

  “Spraying bullets.” An idea gripped her. “He wasn’t spraying at first.”

  For
the first time that evening, Leon Colby looked truly interested.

  “Find out what the cops know about the tape, Leon.”

  “We’ve both got better things to do.”

  “Do we, Leon? Better than seeing what’s really going on in this case?”

  “I know what’s going on. We both do.”

  Lindy shook her head. “Look a little deeper, will you?”

  3.

  Roxy picked Lindy up and drove her back to Box Canyon. When they came through the door, Cardozo regarded them with feline aloofness.

  “Some watch cat you’ve got,” Roxy said. “Why don’t you come stay with me?”

  “I’m not helpless.”

  “I mean, maybe you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  “I have a gun, Rox.”

  “You never told me that.”

  “This is Box Canyon, Roxy. People here understand guns.”

  “But you’re a bleeding heart, get-them-off-on-a-technicality defense lawyer. What are you doing with a gun?”

  “Thank you so much. I thought I had a mind of my own.”

  “You never cease to surprise me.”

  There was a knock at the door. “So who’s home?” Mr. Klinger said.

  Lindy turned. “Come on in,Mr. Klinger.”

  He was halfway in already. “Came to see how my favorite shyster is . . .” He stopped, looked at Roxy.

  “This is my friend, Roxy Raymond.”

  “Hey,” Roxy said.

  “Two chicks and one rooster.” Mr. Klinger clucked and bobbed his eyebrows.

  “Watch him,” Lindy said. “He’s got moves.”

  “Like Red Grange, baby.”

  “Who?” Roxy said.

  “Before your time, sister.” Mr. Klinger, in his undershirt-and-suspenders ensemble, shuffled toward Lindy. “I hear you’re off that case. That’s a good thing.”

  Lindy shook her head. “I’m not ready to get off it.”

  “Now listen!” He wagged his finger at her. “You gotta take care of yourself. You’ve been in a bad accident. You need rest. You’re no Jake LaMotta.”

  “Who?” Roxy said.

  “Before your time,” Lindy said.

  “Now I just want you to know,” Mr. Klinger said, “that I can look in on you from time to time. When I heard you were in sick bay, I made sure your place here was all right. I know where the key . . .” He stopped suddenly.