“I’ll take that up at the preliminary hearing,” Ben said. “Right now, I’d just like to make a motion.”
She nodded. “Very well. Give it to me.”
Ben coughed. “I was planning to make the motion orally.”
A silence covered the courtroom like a blanket.
What? Ben wondered. Do I have food in my teeth or something? He heard a low chuckle emerging from Anglin. Which he didn’t care for in the least.
“I guess you didn’t read Judge Hart’s amended court rules last month,” Anglin said at last.
A furrow crossed Ben’s brow. “Uh … no. Actually I’ve been out of touch with the legal world for a bit—”
“Judge Hart no longer accepts oral motions. Everything has to be in writing.”
Ben peered up at the bench.
“It’s the computers,” Judge Hart said, sighing. “They can’t track oral motions. That’s why I need everything typed up in the correct form.”
“Oh.” Ben swallowed hard. “What an interesting rule. I didn’t—”
Jones suddenly sprang to his feet. “Here’s your motion, Boss. Typed just the way you wanted it.”
“I—” Ben took the file folder and removed the motion within. It was perfectly prepared; Jones had even thought to make copies.
He handed a copy to the judge and to Anglin. “Here it is, your honor.”
Judge Hart took the motion and scanned it. “Yes, this will do nicely.”
Anglin stepped forward. “Your honor, I must object to this absurd attempt to have his client released on bail. The defendant is a convicted murderer!”
“Earl Bonner has served his time,” Ben rebutted. “He has a clean slate.”
“I agree,” Judge Hart said. “The man has paid his debt to society. We can’t hold that against him.”
“What about his behavior since he’s been released?” Anglin offered. “My sources tell me he’s been living on the edge since the day he left McAlester. He’s been linked to organized crime, drugs, prostitution—you name it.”
“That isn’t true!” Ben insisted. “He’s stayed out of trouble.”
Anglin leaned forward. “Yeah? Prove it.”
Ben stammered. “Well, I didn’t know—”
Loving rose to his feet. “Skipper? Here’s that probation report you asked for.”
“Probation—? Right—the probation report!” He snatched the folder from Loving’s hands. “See for yourself, your honor.”
Judge Hart took the proffered report and flipped through the pages. “According to this, Mr. Prosecutor, the defendant has been a model of good conduct. Never missed a probation meeting. Established his own business. Employs several people, including some inner-city youth who need jobs badly. There’s not a word about any criminal activity. Do you have a conflicting report?”
Anglin coughed into his hand. “Not at the moment.”
Judge Hart closed the folder. “That’s what I thought. Well then, with regard to this motion—”
Anglin cut her off. “Your honor, this is a capital offense. The death penalty is a real possibility here. Courts never consider bail in capital cases. Even for an honest man, the temptation to give flight is too great. And if the man bolts, we may never find him again.”
“There’s a way around that.” Somehow Ben wasn’t all that surprised when Christina leaped to her feet and passed through the swinging gates. She handed Ben a file and winked. “Like you suggested earlier, Ben, I think this is the perfect case for this.”
Ben began rapidly scanning the file. “Right. Perfect case.”
Judge Hart peered down from the bench. “Excuse me, Mr. Kincaid. Is this a member of your staff?”
“Yes, she—” He looked up abruptly. “She’s my legal assistant—and partner.”
Christina’s eyes expanded.
“She’s a law student, you know,” Ben added.
The judge nodded. “Indeed.”
“Oh, yeah,” Ben said. “Very promising. Top of her class.”
“Is that a fact? Well, congratulations, young lady. We need more female faces in this profession.”
Christina dipped her head. “Thank you, ma’am.” She nudged Ben in the side. “Thanks for the kind words—partner.”
Anglin cut in. “Look, I hate to interrupt this Hallmark moment, but there’s a motion pending. Setting Earl Bonner free would constitute a gross injustice, not to mention a threat to public safety.”
“Earl Bonner will not bolt,” Ben said firmly. “But it doesn’t matter because I have a suggestion that will eliminate the risk in any case.” He placed the file on Judge Hart’s bench. “Thanks to my staff.”
Chapter 43
AS BEN WALKED across the plaza to the county jail, he couldn’t help but reflect on how well the hearing had gone. That had been great—the whole staff pitching in, working together like a well-oiled machine. And of course he had been successful, which put a rosy glow on any hearing.
He had almost forgotten how satisfying practicing law could be. How rewarding. It was almost enough to make him consider … just consider …
As he stepped into the front office, he was relieved that the guard on duty at the county jailhouse didn’t ask for any identification or to inspect the traditional Tulsa County bar card, especially since he didn’t have it on him and wasn’t entirely sure he had paid his dues.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” the guard said, easing out of his chair.
Ben searched through the cobwebs of his memory, trying to come up with the man’s name. It was something short and traditional. Bob? Tom? Best not to risk it. “I’ve been on an extended vacation.”
The guard unlocked the outer door to the cell block. “You picked a hell of a time to return. He’s back here.”
Ben followed the man down the metallic corridor, ignoring the gauntlet of drunks and wife-beaters and other assorted lowlifes on either side. Earl was at the end of the corridor, lying on the bottom bunk of a no-frills bed with a barely discernible mattress.
Earl sat up as soon as he heard the two men coming down the corridor. “Ben!” He leaned forward eagerly.
The guard gave Ben a nod. “You need anything, I’m right behind that door.”
“Thanks. I’ll be all right.” The guard locked the cell door behind them and left them alone.
“Are you okay?” Ben asked Earl. He cleared a space on the other end of the bunk.
Earl grunted. “If your idea of okay is having someone take all your stuff, strip-search you, spray you with delousing powder, and throw you in this hell-hole, then yeah, I’m having a great time.”
“Everyone treating you all right?”
“Hell, no. What’d’ya expect? These people all think I killed three people, ’cludin’ a woman. And mutilated their bodies. I didn’t expect no Tom Cruise treatment.” He shrugged. “You know that guard?”
Ben gave it a try. “Bob?”
“Tom. He drops by every twenty minutes or so jus’ to tell me about how I’m gonna”—he held his hands up like a monster—“frrryyy!”
“Oh, geez.”
“He’s been givin me the lowdown on the lethal injection table, how it works, how they shoot the poison into your body. He says I got lucky once, but not twice. He says the cops’ve got secret ways of remixing the poison so it hurts, but a man’s paralyzed so he can’t say or do nothing about it.” Earl’s voice began to tremble. “He says I’ll be dyin’ in agony, but no one will know it. He says they got ways of makin’ it happen over and over again. He says they’ll make me die three times over, once for each person I killed.”
Ben put his arm on Earl’s shoulder, trying to calm him. “That’s all a load of crap, Earl. Typical jailhouse rot. He’s just trying to scare you. Put it out of your mind.”
“Hard to put somethin’ like that out of your mind, Ben. Man says I’m gonna pay the price. Three times over!”