The Last Chance Lawyer

by William Bernhardt

  “Objection.” Jazlyn rose to her feet. “Argumentative.”

  He never understood why people made that objection. Being argumentative was the whole point of cross-examination.

  “Sustained.”

  Didn’t matter. The jury knew what he was saying. “If you told the prosecutor you had no idea who shot Sanchez, would they still offer you immunity?”

  Again Jazlyn objected. “Calls for speculation.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Your honor, I’m trying to show that the witness could only get what he wanted if he offered them something good.”

  “And you have made that point, Mr. Pike. Move on.”

  “Emilio, you talked at length about your successful business ventures. But the truth is, you’ve been unable to oversee the day-to-day business for some time, right?”

  “Sadly true. The police persecution I mentioned has kept me out of the office.”

  “In fact, Luis González has been running the business for several months now, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how long has he been with you?”

  “Almost from the beginning.”

  “Isn’t it true that he’s the one who actually steered your operation toward more legitimate enterprises?”

  “He has been a great employee, that’s for sure. In the early days, he was one of the few people I had who knew anything about finance. He’s got a degree in it now.”

  “Isn’t it true that you and he have disagreed more than once about the direction of the company?”

  “Yes.”

  “And isn’t that because he wanted to eliminate the illegal activities like drugs, while you were reluctant to give up such a lucrative operation?”

  “That is absolutely not true.”

  “In fact, you’re been hoping to get into sex trafficking, haven’t you?”

  “No. That’s a repulsive suggestion.”

  “That might be the reason you wanted Sanchez taken out. So you could take over his business.”

  Anger flashed across Emilio’s face. “That is a lie.”

  “That’s what Luis told me.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “He said getting you out of the way was the best thing that ever happened to his business.”

  “You lying sack—”

  Jazlyn rose. “Objection.”

  He turned toward her. “Any grounds? Or just trying to interrupt the flow?”

  “This is provocative and non-probative.”

  The judge shook her head. “Overruled. And please don’t interrupt again unless you have a real objection.”

  Jazlyn sat down, not chastised. She did what she needed to do, curbed Emilio before he blew all credibility. He wasn’t sure he could get Emilio worked up again. But he had to try. “What if I called Luis to the witness stand? Do you think he’d tell the truth?”

  Emilio’s eyes narrowed. “I have known Luis many years. I do not believe he would lie.”

  “What if someone offered him an immunity agreement? People will say anything if they’re offered immunity.”

  “Objection!” Jazlyn almost shouted. “This is outrageous.”

  Nah. This was pretty standard cross-examination. But she wanted the jurors to see her outrage. “Your honor, I’m entitled to question the validity of the witness’ testimony.”

  The judge nodded. “Agreed. Overruled. But counsel, I would like to hear questions that have more probative value and less showboating.”

  In other words, stop asking questions that are only designed to make the witness angry. But he had no intention of shifting gears. “You’ve mentioned that the police don’t believe you’ve stopped drug running. Is that because the police department is out to get you?”

  “They are out to get everyone in my neighborhood. But yeah, they especially target someone who escaped the hood and draws down a whole lot more bacon than they’ll ever make in their bigoted lives.”

  “You really hate police officers, don’t you?”

  “No. You know what Tupac says. The hate you give, man. I try not to hate. Just perpetuates the cycle.”

  “I bet that’s hard sometimes. What do you think of Officer Treadway, the man who found the gun?”

  “We know him. He’s been around the hood for a long time.”

  “Would you say he was friendly to your community?”

  “I wouldn’t say any of them are friendly to my community.”

  “Do you believe he found a gun in Gabriella’s backyard two days after the shooting?”

  “Objection,” Jazlyn said. “Outside the scope.”

  “That one I will sustain.” The judge gave him a stern look. “Please limit cross-examination to the scope of direct.”

  “Of course. Emilio, isn’t it true that the police arrested you shortly after the shootout?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why was that?”

  He shrugged. “Round up the usual suspects.”

  “Oh, there was more to it than that, wasn’t there? You were at the scene of the crime and you had a bad-on against Sanchez.”

  “I didn’t like what he was doing. Sex trafficking is vile.”

  “Worse than drug running?”

  “Much. And I’m not saying drug pushing is good. But turning women into prostitutes. That’s beyond the pale. That’s rot-in-hell-for-eternity stuff.”

  “So you wanted Sanchez dead.”

  “I don’t want anyone dead, man. I just want us to all get along. Be good to one another.”

  “What a philosophical soul you are these days. Practically Gandhi.”

  Jazlyn rose. “Objection.”

  “Grounds?” the judge asked.

  “Infantile sarcasm.”

  “Sustained. And this is the last time I’m putting up with it, Mr. Pike. One more remark like that and I hope your colleague is ready to take over for the remainder of the trial.”

  Okay, maybe it was time to chill. But he still hoped to get a rise out of Emilio. “So you were arrested and the only way you were getting off the hook was if you convinced the police someone else committed the crime.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

  “And you didn’t want to lose anybody important to your operation, so you threw Gabriella to the pigs.”

  “I told them what happened. That’s it.”

  “You realize, if you help them put Gabriella behind bars, you’ve doomed Esperanza. Sanchez might be dead, but his brother continues the operation. And he’s now her closest relative.”

  “I’m just telling what I saw.” Emilio rose slightly, bouncing on his toes. “I don’t like the truth. But it is what it is.”

  “And you don’t care if Esperanza is deported.”

  “I think she might be better off away from Gabriella. That woman is dangerous.”

  “You say you’re an enemy of sex trafficking. But you just doomed a little girl to a lifetime of it.”

  “All I did was tell the truth.”

  “I get that you had to lie to save yourself. But dooming an innocent child to a life of slavery and prostitution to save your own sorry skin—that’s rot-in-hell-for-eternity stuff.”

  “I ain’t lying!” Emilio shouted. “I just told what happened.”

  “You told what saved your butt. But will it save your soul?”

  “What you expect me to do? They were gonna put me away till the end of time! And they—” Emilio caught himself and fell silent.

  He held off on questions for several beats, letting the jurors’ imaginations finish Emilio’s sentence. “Yes, that’s what I thought happened. No more questions.”

  Chapter 38

  Dan met with his cohorts during the lunch break, but it was a despondent affair. Even the pizza seemed tasteless.

  “Well,” Jimmy said, wiping his chin with a napkin, “that was a thing that happened.”

  “Total switcheroo,” Maria murmured.

  He knew what she meant. Last night
, they’d been patting themselves on the back, talking about how ineffective Jazlyn’s prosecution had been so far. But she turned it around in a heartbeat. He did the best he could on cross-ex, but he doubted it was enough. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, all the evidence supported Emilio’s story. All the evidence suggested Gabriella was guilty.

  “Do we know anything about this sister? Luciana?” Maria asked.

  “Not yet,” Garrett replied. “But I’ve already started making calls.”

  “Have something by the close of business.” He didn’t want to seem like he was giving orders. But he was panicked. This couldn’t wait.

  Garrett nodded. “On it.”

  BY ONE O’CLOCK, THEY were back to work. They first met in chambers and dealt with some procedural matters, pending motions, judicial docket issues, and a concern about juror number 11, who appeared to be dozing during the last witness’ testimony. And if a juror could fall asleep during Emilio’s testimony, he was apparently not gigantically engaged. By the unanimous consent of all parties, the juror was removed, sent home, and replaced by a more attentive alternate.

  Back in the courtroom, Jazlyn called two more police officers who were not completely repetitive or redundant, but largely reinforced what had already been established. Gabriella was at the scene of the crime. She was found at her home afterwards. And her gun was found in the backyard two days later. One of the police officers thought he saw Gabriella running down a street not far from the Trademark, but that was the least of the cop’s worries at the time and he didn’t attempt to stop her. After the gunfire exchange, people scattered like rats from a sinking ship, and who could blame them?

  He didn’t even bother cross-examining these witnesses. He didn’t think they contributed much, and harassing them over trivia would only make their slight testimony seem more important.

  To his happy surprise, come four o’clock, Jazlyn said the prosecution only had one remaining witness, and they couldn’t possibly finish in an hour or two. Judge Le reluctantly adjourned court for the day, hoping to finish the prosecution case the following morning.

  Even happier news. Garrett tracked down Gabriella’s sister, Luciana. She wasn’t in a detention center.

  She was in a psychiatric ward.

  “HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?” he asked. They left as soon as court adjourned, hoping to get in before the hospital closed for the day. Maria drove, of course. Garrett sat in the back seat, guiding them. Jimmy returned to the office to do the usual post-trial postmortem and to get their ducks in a row for the next day. There were several possible witnesses Jazlyn might call for her clincher. Jimmy wanted to figure out who it was. He was hoping to call some friends, learn if anybody had been spotted coming in or out of the DA’s office.

  “Apparently Luciana had a total mental breakdown,” Garrett said. “She’s illegal, though not here of her own volition. Found in that storage locker with the others and they couldn’t handle her in the detention center.”

  She was in San Angelo Medical, a government facility. Not the place he would have chosen, but it was better for someone with mental health issues to be in any kind of facility than out on the streets like the homeless—most of whom also suffered from mental illness.

  “Is anyone caring for her?”

  “I’m sure they are,” Garrett answered. “But there’s only so much they can do. They’re basically just biding time until Immigration deems her safe to deport. And then it will be back over the border for her.”

  “Is there anything we can do? If she’s a critical witness, I don’t want her disappearing suddenly.”

  Garrett shook his head. “I don’t think she’s going to be of any use to you. I don’t think this interview is going to be of any use to you. The attendant I spoke to indicated that Luciana was barely coherent.”

  “I’ll take my chances. They’ll let us see her?”

  Garrett tilted his head. “I may have... exaggerated the urgency of the situation somewhat. But yes, under direct supervision by the floor administrator, they will allow us to speak to her. For whatever it’s worth.”

  “It’s always worth a try. Especially now.”

  Garrett continued. “She’s been sexually abused by Sanchez and his customers for a long time. Probably since childhood. Which sadly, was not that long ago.”

  “Prostitution?”

  “Of the worst sort. Bought and sold. Farmed out to people with...depraved tastes. In some cases, to people with a predilection for sadism. And I don’t mean the fun Fifty-Shades-of-Gray kind. I mean the real deal. Violence. Torture.”

  Maria closed her eyes. “Why am I starting to feel not sorry that Sanchez no longer inhabits this planet?”

  His lips pursed. “And that feeling, of course, is exactly what Jazlyn and Emilio are trying to suggest motivated Gabriella. Revulsion about what happened to her sister, what might happen to Esperanza. Let’s face it, it’s a credible motive. You’re feeling it now. If Sanchez were still alive and I put a gun in your hand...”

  “I wouldn’t kill anyone!” Maria said.

  “You might be tempted.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes darkened. “I might well be tempted.”

  SAN ANGELO WAS PROBABLY a nice facility fifty years ago, Dan mused, but now it needed a serious infusion of funding. Or demolition.

  Inside, they met the supervisor on duty, a woman named Catherine Broglie. She seemed distant, but cooperative. Heavyset. No nonsense. White dress a size too small. Blunt-cut red hair.

  “I’ve had lawyers in before,” she explained. “It’s going to be a complete waste of time, but I don’t have the budget to deal with subpoenas.”

  “I appreciate your cooperation,” he said. If that was the right word.

  “Do not rile her,” Broglie said, pointing a finger. “She’ll get upset sufficiently on her own. Don’t fan the flames. Her deportation papers have already been filed. We’re just trying to keep her alive and calm enough to travel. Understood?”

  “Understood.” He quickly read the file. It didn’t have much information. “You know anything more about her?”

  Broglie gave him an impatient look. “How could I? She can’t tell me anything. Babbles incoherently. The people who transferred her didn’t know anything. She’s been abused and tortured. Exposed to mind-altering drugs. Took a severe blow to the head. We don’t know what happened to her before she was found in that locker. She’s never been visited by friends or family.”

  Ten minutes later, Broglie led them into a much smaller room. No decorations. A metal table in the center and chairs on either side.

  A moment later, they brought in Luciana. Tiny. Emaciated. Red eyes, like she’d been crying for weeks. Discoloration across one side of her head. Chewed nails. Tear in the sleeve of her gown. He assumed she was being fed, but you couldn’t tell to look at her. Her eyes seemed sunken and hollow. Her hair, what was left of it, was a mess. She was in a wheelchair.

  He didn’t need his acute powers of observation to realize that this woman was in a bad way. And wouldn’t live much longer unless something changed.

  He had suggested that Maria take the lead. The woman might respond better to a female questioner. But Maria declined. “I don’t want to wimp out,” she said, “but I don’t think I can hold it together. You’re going to have to take this one.”

  He introduced himself. “May I call you Luciana?”

  She stared at him, head tilted at a slight angle, as if he were an interesting bug she’d spotted on the wall.

  “I’m representing Gabriella, your older sister. She’s been charged with a horrible crime, but I’m convinced she didn’t do it. That’s why we want to talk to you. We’re hoping you can give us information that will help her.”

  Still no response.

  He leaned forward slightly. “You know Gabriella, right? Your sister? Your friend?”

  “Amigos?” Her head twitched. “No amigos. No...friends. Friends, friends, friends. Do you have friends?”

  The t
rembling was slight, but it was there, just the same. If he hadn’t known better, he might wonder if she had Parkinson’s. “I do.”

  “No friends. No friends. No friends.”

  “Do you know someone named Gabriella?”

  The woman stared back at him.

  He had to snap her out of it somehow. “What about Sanchez? Do you know a man named Sanchez?”

  Her eyes widened and watered. The trembling intensified. “¿Dónde? ¿Dónde? Keep away!”

  He reached across the table. “He’s gone. Dead. Sanchez can’t hurt you anymore.”

  She pushed up as if to leave. He noticed she was strapped to the chair. “Don’t let them near me!”

  Them. Not him. Them.

  Out the corner of his eye, he saw Broglie was not happy.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Sanchez is not here. Sanchez is dead. Very dead.”

  “His brother?”

  At last. A sensible question. “Diego Sanchez is nowhere near here. You have people protecting you. No one can get in. No one can hurt you.”

  She calmed slightly.

  “Regardless of what has been done to you in the past, you’re safe now.”

  “Seguro? No. Not safe. Never safe. No one is safe.”

  “These people are taking care of you, aren’t they?”

  “They? They? Don’t let them near me!”

  “Your sister is in danger.”

  Her breathing slowed. The twitching stopped.

  “You remember your sister Gabriella?”

  “Gabriella wants to help me. But all women—powerless.”

  Maria leaned in. “That’s changing, ma’am. Slowly.”

  “Nothing changes. Nothing changes.” Her eyes seemed wild and unfocused. “Nothing changes Sanchez.”

  “Except death. He can’t hurt you. He can’t hurt Gabriella.”

  Luciana nodded her head as if to the beat of a private song. “Gabriella is strong. She stood up to him. She knew what...happened.”

  “What...did happen...to you?”

  “So young. So innocent. An orphan. The nuns could not take care of me. No money, no food. The men said they would care for me. I would have the best of everything.”