DET. STURGIS: That’s it.
MR. TOKARIK: Are we supposed to be impressed? Decoded hocus-pocus? You know this is totally inadmissible.
DET. STURGIS: If you say so.
MR. TOKARIK: Come on, Chip, let’s get out of here — Chip?
MR. JONES: Uh-huh.
DET. STURGIS: Sure you wanna go? There’s more.
MR. TOKARIK: We’ve heard quite enough.
DET. STURGIS: Suit yourself, Counselor. But don’t waste your time asking for bail. D.A.’s filing Murder One as we speak.
MR. TOKARIK: Murder One! That’s outrageous. Who’s the victim?
DET. STURGIS: Dawn Herbert.
MR. TOKARIK: Murder One? On the basis of that fantasy?
DET. STURGIS: On the basis of eyewitness testimony, Counselor. Collaborator testimony. Upstanding citizen named Karl Sobran. You do have a thing for your students, don’t you, Prof.
MR. TOKARIK: Who?
DET. STURGIS: Ask the prof.
MR. TOKARIK: I’m asking you, Detective.
DET. STURGIS: Karl Edward Sobran. We’ve got a windbreaker with blood on it and a confession implicating your client. And Sobran’s credentials are impeccable. Bachelor’s degree in interpersonal violence from Soledad, postgraduate training from numerous other institutions. Your client hired him to kill Ms. Herbert and make it look like a sex thing. Not much of a challenge, because Sobran likes to get violent with women — did time for rape and assault. His last paid vacation was for larceny and he spent it up in the Ventura County Jail. That’s where old Professor Chip, here, met him. Volunteer tutoring — a class project his sociology Students were doing. Sobran got an A. Old Chip sent a letter recommending parole, calling Sobran graduate-school material and promising to keep him under his wing. Sobran got out and enrolled at West Valley Community College as a sociology major. What he did to Dawn — What was that, Prof? Fieldwork?
MR. TOKARIK: This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of.
DET. STURGIS: D.A. doesn’t think so.
MR. TOKARIK: The D.A. is totally politically motivated. If my client was any other Jones, we wouldn’t even be sitting here.
DET. STURGIS: Okay... have a nice day. Steve?
DET. MARTINEZ: See y’all.
MR. TOKARIK: Coded disks, the alleged testimony of a convicted felon — absurd.
DET. STURGIS: Ask your client if it’s absurd.
MR. TOKARIK: I’ll do no such thing. Let’s go, Chip. Come on.
MR. JONES: Can you get me bail, Tony?
MR. TOKARIK: This isn’t the place to—
MR. JONES: I want out of this place, Tony. Things are piling up. I’ve got papers to grade.
MR. TOKARIK: Of course, Chip. But it may take—
DET. STURGIS: He’s not going anywhere and you know it, Counselor. Level with him.
MR. JONES: I want out. This place is depressing. I can’t concentrate.
MR. TOKARIK: I understand, Chip, but—
MR. JONES: NO buts, Tony. I want out. A l’extérieur. O.U.T.
MR. TOKARIK: Of course, Chip. You know I’ll do everything I—
MR. JONES: I want out, Tony. I’m a good person. This is totally Kafkaesque.
DET. STURGIS: Good person, huh? Liar, torturer, murderer... Yeah, I guess if you don’t count those minor technicalities, you’re up for sainthood, Junior.
MR. JONES: I am a good person.
DET. STURGIS: Tell that to your daughter.
MR. JONES: She’s not my daughter.
MR. TOKARIK: Chip—
DET. STURGIS: Cassie’s not your daughter?
MR. JONES: Not strictly speaking, Detective. Not that it’s relevant — I wouldn’t hurt anyone’s child.
DET. STURGIS: She’s not yours?
MR. JONES: NO. Even though I’ve raised her as if she were. All the responsibility but none of the ownership.
DET. MARTINEZ: Whose is she, then?
MR. JONES: Who knows? Her mother’s such a compulsive roundheels, jumps anything with a — In pants. God only knows who the father is. I sure don’t.
DET. STURGIS: By “her mother” you’re referring to your wife? Cindy Brooks Jones.
MR. JONES: Wife in name only.
MR. TOKARIK: Chip—
MR. JONES: She’s a barracuda, Detective. Don’t believe that innocent exterior. Pure predator. Once she snagged me, she reverted to type.
DET. STURGIS: What type is that?
MR. TOKARIK: I’m calling this session to a halt right now. Any further questions are at your legal risk, Detective.
DET. STURGIS: Sorry, Chip. Your legal beagle, here, says zip the lip.
MR. JONES: I’ll talk to whom I want, when I want, Tony.
MR. TOKARIK: For God’s sake, Chip—
MR. JONES: Shut up, Tony. You’re growing tedious.
DET. STURGIS: Better listen to him, Prof. He’s the expert.
MR. TOKARIK: Exactly. Session ended.
DET. STURGIS: Whatever you say.
MR. JONES: Stop infantilizing me — all of you. I’m the one stuck in this hellhole. My rights are the ones being abridged. What do I have to do to get out of here, Detective?
MR. TOKARIK: Chip, at this point there’s nothing you can do—
MR. JONES: Then what do I need you for? You’re fired.
MR. TOKARIK: Chip—
MR. JONES: Just shut up and let me get a thought out, okay?
MR. TOKARIK: Chip, I can’t in good conscience—
MR. JONES: YOU don’t have a conscience, Tony. You’re a lawyer. Quoth the Bard: “Let’s kill all the lawyers.” Okay? So just hold on... okay... Listen, you guys are cops — you understand street people, how they lie. That’s the way Cindy is. She lies atavistically — it’s an ingrained habit. She fooled me for a long time because I loved her—” When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies.” Shakespeare — everything’s in Shakespeare. Where was I...?
MR. TOKARIK: Chip, for your own sake—
MR. JONES: She’s amazing, Detective. Could charm the bark off a tree. Serve me dinner and smile and ask me how my day had been — and an hour before, she was in our marital bed, screwing the pool man. The pool man, for God’s sake. We’re talking urban legend here. But she lived it.
DET. STURGIS: By “the pool man” you’re referring to Greg Worley of ValleyBrite Pool Service?
MR. JONES: Him, others — what’s the difference? Carpenters, plumbers, anything in jeans and a tool belt. No trouble getting tradesmen out to our place — oh, no. Our place was Disneyland for every blue-collar cocksman in town. It’s a disease, Detective. She can’t help herself. Okay, rationally, I can understand that. Ungovernable impulses. But she destroyed me in the process. I was the victim.
MR. TOKARIK: (unintelligible)
DET. STURGIS: What’s that, Counselor?
MR. TOKARIK: I register my objection to this entire session.
MR. JONES: Suppress your ego, Tony. I’m the victim — don’t exploit me for your ego. That’s my problem in general — people tend to take advantage of me because they know I’m fairly naïve.
DET. STURGIS: Dawn Herbert do that?
MR. JONES: Absolutely. That folderol you read was absolute fantasy. She was a dope addict when I found her. I tried to help her and she paid me back with paranoia.
DET. STURGIS: What about Kristie Kirkash?
MR. JONES: (unintelligible)
DET. STURGIS: What’s that, Prof?
MR. JONES: Kristie’s my student. Why? Does she say it’s more than that?
DET. STURGIS: Actually she does.
MR. JONES: Then she’s lying — another one.
DET. STURGIS: Another what?
MR. JONES: Predator. Believe me, she’s old beyond her years. I must attract them. What happened with Kristie is that I caught her cheating on a test and was working with her on her ethics. Take my advice and don’t accept anything she says at face value.
DET. STURGIS: She says she rented a post office box for you out in Agoura Hills. You have the number handy, Steve?