Judge and Jury

by William Bernhardt

  What did Sweeney know? And how could Dan get past this rigorous and highly compensated code of silence?

  He still remembered seeing his father dragged out of the house by the police. He remembered the painful, prolonged, high-profile trial. He remembered each and every visit to his father behind bars. Never once did his father complain. Never once was he angry. And every visit ended the same way.

  He father smiled at him, a big, goofy, lopsided grin, and said, “Keep the faith, kid.”

  Everything Dan had learned in the past few years suggested that Sweeney was involved with a South American cartel involved in human trafficking, organ smuggling, and virtually every other hideous evil known to man. His wealth supposedly came from his tech enterprises, but Dan thought that was the veneer laundering the big bucks. His investigation into the cartel led to his discovery that this organ shipment was due. The local police and the FBI knew too, as he learned when he reported it to a detective he knew Jake Kakazu. They needed a front. They were worried that they had a mole, so they wanted someone outside the force to lure them out.

  Did he really have a sister? Why would The Captain say that if it wasn’t true? Why did The Captain even know who he was?

  He glanced at the tiny table beside his bed. He only had a few photographs of his father, but they were all there. One came from a newspaper article about his conviction, so Dan never looked at it. Another was a normal casual blurry photograph from the days before everyone carried a top-notch camera phone in their pocket. He thought it was Christmastime, but his father didn’t appear to know his picture was being taken.

  Dan usually good at reading people, at noticing what others didn’t, at making small observations that later added up to larger conclusions. But he wasn’t sure what he saw in this photo.

  He studied the expression on his father’s face. Thoughtful, reflective, perhaps even a little sad. Intelligent. Gentle.

  That man killed a fellow police officer in cold blood?

  He just didn’t believe it.

  He slipped the photo into his jacket pocket, strapped on his Air Jordans, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the courthouse.

  * * *

  The instant Dan stepped through the tall thick wood-paneled doors, he felt a comforting surge course through his entire body.

  Home.

  He had only been away from the courtroom for about five months, but it seemed like an eternity. This was where he did his best work, where he did the most good, where he did what he thought he was supposed to be doing.

  Since the shootout at the pier, one of the bodyguards was still in the hospital and two were already out on bail. They disappeared instantly. Only The Captain remained in custody, and that was only because the judge refused to set bail. That would be appealed of course. He didn’t know why any appeal court would want to interfere, but when powerful forces with ungodly amounts of money infiltrated the system, nothing was predictable. One bribe was all it would take to set The Captain free.

  Which was why this preliminary hearing was being held today, as quickly as possible. Once The Captain was formally bound over for trial, he would sleep much better. If The Captain got worried, the chances that he might talk increased immeasurably. And he seriously wanted to hear more from that man.

  Did The Captain really know something about Dan’s family, his father? Something he didn’t know. A sister?

  He heard a voice behind him. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

  He turned and saw his friend, Jazlyn Prentice, now officially the City District Attorney. Peace sign lapel pin. Flats. Hair in an up-do. She was a fine attorney, a fair prosecutor, and best of all, despite the fact that they were typically on opposite sides of a case, they were good friends.

  “Because you know I’m a model citizen?”

  “Because I know you couldn’t possibly stay out of trouble for long. Sounds like the sting got hairy.”

  “Oh, you know. Three guys shooting at me at once, one trying to strangle me. Just a typical day in the life of a defense lawyer.”

  “Pretty sure they never covered anything like this in law school.”

  “Thank goodness. Everyone would quit. And then the world would have no lawyers.”

  “Horrors.” She reached out and adjusted the lie of his tie. “Nice suit.”

  “Thanks. Brooks Brothers.”

  “Of course.” She paused. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but...The Captain is wavering. He might talk.”

  “Worried about not getting bail?”

  “Or that someone will take him out behind bars. Hard to know.”

  “Can’t you figure out his real name? I hate calling him The Captain, like he’s in some official military service. The rank ‘Captain’ should be reserved for important people. Like Captain Hornblower. Or Captain Kirk.”

  “This guy’s more like Captain Ahab.”

  “Well, a few more days of interrogation by you and he’ll be Cap’n Crunch.”

  She laughed. “Seriously, assuming the judge binds him over—”

  “How could she not? We caught him red-handed.”

  “So assuming he’s bound over, we might get him to talk. But I have to say...his immunity will be contingent upon giving us information about the cartel. Not your father.”

  “I understand. But it’s still possible—”

  “Yes. It’s possible. But I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

  “I appreciate that.” He changed the subject. “Am I imaging it, or is that a new outfit you’re wearing?”

  “What, this old thing?” She wore what appeared to be a turquoise-blue silk shirt and black joggers. “I call it Courtroom Casual. Just enough to pass the dress code.”

  “I like it.”

  “Give the credit to Esperanza. She’s been trying to liven up my wardrobe. She says I dress like a grandmother.”

  He stifled the laugh. “She’s ten. She doesn’t know how lawyers are expected to dress.”

  “True. But a woman in her mid-thirties still doesn’t want to hear that she dresses like a granny. So I’m changing it up.”

  “Points for the ten-year old.” Dan had been instrumental in preventing Esperanza, a ten-year old orphan, from being deported, and subsequently persuaded Jazlyn to adopt her. Jazlyn told him it was the smartest thing she had ever done, and he could see that she was a much happier person since Esperanza entered her life.

  Jazlyn’s gaze travelled a bit. “Did you notice who else is in the courtroom?”

  He had. “Prudence Hancock. Sweeney’s right-hand...whatever the hell she is.”

  “Anything Sweeney wants her to be, I suspect. But why is she at this hearing?”

  “Because Sweeney wants her to be.” Prudence sat on the back row of the gallery, poised to make a hasty exit as soon as she had whatever Sweeney wanted. She was a tall, muscular woman with red hair and expression that challenged you to look at her, much less mess with her. “Which tells me he’s interested in the outcome.”

  “But why? He’s smart enough to know this scumbag will be bound over for trial.”

  Dan drew in his breath, then slowly released it. “Then there must be something more going on. Something we don’t know about.”

  Jazlyn glanced over his head to the rear of the courtroom. “Looks like it’s almost showtime. Let’s catch up soon.”

  “Game night?”

  “Do I have to play Gloomhaven?”

  “No. That’s really more of a team thing.”

  “Thank God. That game takes forever. And I thought Risk was bad.”

  * * *

  Dan slid into the first row on the prosecution side. Felt weird to be sitting behind the rail, but he would have to adjust. He wore his Air Jordans and carried his backpack, even though he technically wasn’t on duty today. He couldn’t stand confining dress shoes. The sneakers kept him feeling spry. The backpack was much easier on the shoulders than the traditional briefcase.

  There was a remote chance that th
e prosecution would call him to testify, but he doubted it would happen. The feds in particular tended to trust in their own, and there were more than enough FBI witnesses on the scene to establish sufficient grounds to bind the witness over.

  Jake Kakazu was the first to take the stand. Dan was mildly surprised, since Jake was local, not federal, and the FBI was running this show. On the other hand, Jake was extremely intelligent, Oxford-educated, and had a tony British accent that made him sound even smarter. The judge couldn’t help but be impressed.

  Jake explained how they learned about the organ smugglers, how they detained the usual buyer and replaced him with Dan. How surprised they were to learn that the organs had not been extracted from the dead but were still in use by the living. Presumably some of the women kidnapped for sex trafficking were diverted to fill a gap in the organ run. He described all they knew about The Captain and his long smuggling history. Much of what Jake said was technically hearsay, in a few cases double and even triple hearsay, but at a preliminary hearing, he could get away with that.

  The court-appointed attorney representing The Captain did not cross-examine. There was no reason to. He knew his client would be bound over. Asking questions would just preview their defense to the prosecution without doing him his client good. He would save it for trial.

  After Jake testified, two of the other officers took the stand, primarily to describe the shootout and arrest, the collection of evidence, and to sponsor all the exhibits—the video recording, the weapons taken from the goons, the photos taken at the scene. They described the young women trapped in the secret storage compartment, who were now at the hospital being fed and nursed back to health.

  The prosecutor announced that they were complete. He undoubtedly could’ve gone on for days, but why? He’d made his case. Like the defense attorney, he might as well save the rest for trial.

  “Very well,” Judge Harris said, bouncing a stack of papers on her desk. “If we’re finished, the court will—”

  The defense attorney rose. “Your honor, if I may.”

  The judge’s forehead creased. “Yes?”

  “We would like to present our case now.”

  The judge was just as surprised as everyone else in the courtroom. “You would?”

  “Yes, your honor. I call my client, Xavier Reynaldo, aka The Captain, to the stand.”

  The judge blinked. “You’re putting your client on the stand? Now?”

  “Yes, your honor.” He almost shrugged. “It’s...his idea. He insists. He wants to be heard.”

  The judge’s confusion was evident on his face. Dan felt for her. It would be unusual to put this defendant on the witness stand during the trial. It was unheard of, and truly pointless, at a preliminary hearing. What purpose did it serve? The prosecution cold not compel the defendant to speak or to preview its evidence. Usually, they heard the defense theory for the first time at trial. Previewing the case now would serve no purpose—he would still be bound over—and from a strategic standpoint, was just plain stupid.

  The judge cleared his throat. “Mr...uh, Reynaldo, I feel I must advise you, as I’m sure your lawyer has already done, that you cannot be compelled to testify—”

  “I wish it,” The Captain said, rising to his feet. “I wish to tell my story.”

  The judge looked completely gobsmacked. After several seconds, he tilted his head and shrugged. “Very well. Take the stand.”

  The courtroom was not half-filled, but there was still an audible buzz as The Captain walked to the stand. What was going on? Why was he doing this?

  Dan threw a glance toward Jazlyn, but he could see she was just as confused as he was.

  The Captain settled into the large wooden chair.

  “Would you please state your name?” his lawyer asked.

  “Xavier Reynaldo.”

  “And why are you testifying today?”

  He raised his chin. “The prosecution has made me a most generous offer, in the event that I answer certain questions. I have decided to accept their generous offer. But I wish to do it in public, on the record, so there is no chance of trickery or reneging later.”

  The judge leaned in. “Sir, if the prosecutor has made an offer, I can guarantee they will honor it. And the court will accept any—”

  “Is there a rule against doing it here? On the record?”

  The judge still looked as if he were presiding over a Wonderland court and expected at any moment someone would shout “Off with his head!”

  Judge Harris took a deep breath. “As you wish. Proceed.”

  The Captain stared straight ahead, almost as if he were speaking to an invisible camera. “I wish to state that everything I am about to say is true, and that although I have made an arrangement with the prosecutors, I am speaking now because I wish to cleanse my soul. For years no I have engaged in the most vile...”

  If Dan had not been seated on the front row, he would have missed it altogether. Like everyone else in the courtroom, he was mesmerized. But he must’ve had some subliminal alarm system activated in the back of his brain, something triggered when he caught the court deputy moving forward in his peripheral vision.

  The Captain continued in a virtual monologue. “...activities known to mankind, cruel and inhuman acts reviled by all civilized nations. But I had no choice. I was forced to do what I did by a cartel headed by two men, one controlling the El Salvadorian end and other controlling the American end of this disgusting human pipeline. These two men...”

  The deputy flipped the holster strap with his thumb, removed his weapon and pointed it at the witness.

  Dan saw what was happening but reacted too slowly. He shouted, “No!” and tore down the aisle toward the deputy.

  The gun fired. The Captain stopped talking.

  Pandemonium erupted in the courtroom. The screaming hit fever pitch. The judge ducked behind her bench. Everyone scrambled.

  Dan tackled the deputy and brought him to the ground. The deputy tried to push him away, but Dan slammed his head down on the floor hard.

  “Why would you do this?” Dan screamed. “Why?”

  The deputy punched him in the gut, then tossed him off, struggling back to his feet.

  Jake and some of the other officers were in the nave, but Dan knew they probably weren’t armed.

  The deputy lifted his gun.

  Dan slowly rose, his hands held way above his head. “There are security officers all over this building. You can’t possibly escape.”

  The deputy’s lips curled. “They’re coming for you, Pike.”

  “Who? Why would they come for me?”

  Another deputy burst through the doors, gun raised. He probably heard the shot. “Drop the gun or I will fire.”

  The deputy turned slightly, smiling. “Don’t bother.”

  “Drop the weapon. Drop the weapon!”

  The deputy pointed the gun at his own head and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 3

  Dan peered through the peekaboo window of the kitchen oven, trying to determine whether it was time to open the door.

  Timing was everything in gourmet cooking, and particularly important for flatbread dishes. You didn’t want to undercook and serve mushy flatbread. You didn’t want to overcook and serve crackers. But when you open the door, your lose temperature consistency and won’t get it back for at least a minute, by which time the flatbread would almost certainly be less tha optimal.

  Cooking was traumatic—but in a good way. And a welcome respite from the more physical traumas of the past few days. Cooking wouldn’t make them go away. But focusing on something else, even for a brief moment, was a welcome respite.

  Out the corner of his eye, he saw Maria enter the kitchen. Long thick black hair. Trim figure, apparent even in baggy, casual clothes. BLM lapel pin. Beautiful. She stood close, but not too close. Closer than she did before they shared that first kiss on the back patio, but she didn’t throw her arms around him or anything. She stood tentatively, as if sh
e weren’t quite sure what to do with herself. “Smells wonderful.”

  “Let’s hope.” He made a point of smiling. He knew she was trying to feel her way around this new...whatever it was. Not pushing. But perhaps persistently reminding.

  “Nice to have you around. We missed you. I mean, you know. All of us.”

  He smiled. “I missed you, too.”

  “Kitchen hasn’t smelled this good since you took off on your...vision quest. Or whatever. Jimmy tries to cook occasionally...but...it’s not the same.”

  “He gets all his recipes from the DC Heroes Cookbook. Which was written for eight-year-olds. Super Hot Dogs and Bat-Nachos.”

  “What are you making?”

  “You’re about to see. Stand back, please.” He opened the over door and a rush of hot air blew upward. Wearing his oven mitts, he removed the oversize sheet pan and placed it on a trivet. Eight pieces of flatbread adorned with zucchini and tomatoes sizzled. “Perfect timing.”

  Maria peered at the pan. “Have we had this before?”

  “No. This is my super-special Flatbread Not-Pizza. Flatbread and ricotta-based spread, adorned with baked veggies.” He paused. “It’s for special occasions. And special people.”

  That perked her interest. “It is?”

  “It is.” He removed his mitts. While it cooled, he would added the chili flakes, fresh basil, lemon zest, and honey drizzle. But that could wait a moment. “Maria, I very much appreciate how...understanding you’ve been.”

  She inched a bit closer. “You mean about you taking a powder just when it looked like we were starting something?”

  “I made a commitment.”

  “I know. And you asked if we could put this...whatever on hold till you worked it all out.”

  “I need to get my life in order. I have to learn the truth about what happened to my father.”