Johnson had to figure I wouldn’t dig, wouldn’t ask questions. He knew about my experience and probably figured I was a little naive. He knew I needed money. But why would he assume I’d go along with the deal? Because, I’d sat on my hands and told him I would. That’s why.
C H A P T E R 3
The next day, I waited for Ernesto Rodriguez in a room the court made available to lawyers and their incarcerated clients holding pre-trial conferences. The room, a stark and unforgiving cubicle, had plain white walls and a cold, grey cement floor. A bluish light radiated from the fluorescent tubes embedded in the acoustic tile above. A metal table, bolted down, occupied the center. Two chairs, also bolted, faced the table.
At nine-thirty, the guards appeared with Rodriguez. They hustled him into a chair, and his body sagged with fatigue. The guards ran chains through eyebolts welded to the chair and locked them to the iron encircling his hands and feet. With his arms shackled behind his back, the chains hitched too tight, his torso tilted forward at an oblique angle. Fear and anger burned in his dark eyes.
I sat down across from him. “Mr. Rodriguez, I’m Jimmy O’Brien. I’ve been appointed by the court to represent you today at the arraignment.” Rodriguez wore a white jumpsuit with the words LA County Jail stenciled in India ink on the back. He had a full head of black hair, which he wore Indian style, hanging long and straight. I imagined when he wasn’t in jail that he pulled it back into a ponytail.
The D.A.’s report had a copy of his driver’s license. It said he stood six feet tall, was thirty-three years old, and weighed 186 pounds.
“As you know, Mr. Rodriguez, you’ve been charged with first degree murder. And I’m here to help you as much as I can.”
He remained silent, eyes boring holes in the steel table.
“I’m talking to you!”
“Hey, man, you’re wasting your time.” He spat the words, hard and angry. “They needed somebody to hang and those gabachos picked me.”
I ignored the remark. “Listen, I’ve spoken to the Judge and the D.A. They’ve agreed to drop life without parole. You could be out in twenty-five years. That is if you plead guilty today.”
With effort, he bent his neck back and looked at me straight on. “Plead? I will plead to nothing. I didn’t kill her,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Listen to me, damn it. Today is the last day. Tomorrow they’ll withdraw the offer.”
“You no comprende? I don’t give a shit about you, the other abogados, or the judge. No way will I say I did it. But, hey man, tell them what you want.” He closed his eyes and lowered his head.
“I can’t enter a guilty plea without your consent.” I placed the D.A.’s report on the table. “Let’s look at what they’ve got. An eyewitness saw you arguing with the victim on the evening she died. They found her blood splattered all over your pickup truck; and they found the knife you used to kill her hidden under the seat. Did they make all of that up? I don’t think so.”
His eyes stayed closed, his head down.
“The report says you have no alibi. She died Saturday night, the night before your arrest. If you didn’t kill her, where were you when she died?”
Rodriguez remained silent with no reaction.
“It says here you have a prior arrest, beat up some guy in a bar, showing a pattern of violence. Are you a violent person, Ernesto? How long ago did this happen?”
It was like talking to a zombie. All I heard was the sound of his breathing.
“Why were you arguing with the murdered girl?” I paused. “What was all that about? Tell me, goddammit. Tell me what you and the girl were arguing about.”
I waited and stared at him. The chains tightened and loosened with each breath he took.
“Listen to me. I can’t help you unless you talk to me.”
He raised his head, shot a look filled with contempt. “Pendejo, you are with them. You don’t want to help me. You want me to lie, tell everyone I killed her. Then you collect your fee and brag to your people how you nailed another wetback.”
The small hairs on the back of my neck stiffened. What he said hit a nerve. I’d pounded him hard, trying to get him to plead guilty while I just gave a cursory look at the facts. I was just following Johnson’s orders. God, what kind of a criminal lawyer am I?
“Look, Ernesto, part of my job is to let you know what the D.A. is offering.”
He continued to glare at me defiantly. “Shit man, I did not do it,” he said.
“But the evidence…” I stopped and thought for a moment. “Please listen to me. I have an idea. The judge handling this case wants to wrap it up. Maybe I can get you a better deal, twenty to life. How does that sound?”
Ernesto looked at me and moved his head slowly from side to side.
I took an oath to act in the best interests of my clients regardless of their crimes or their guilt or innocence. With this case, I took a few dollars to tip the scales of justice, tip them Johnson’s way. A chimpanzee in a three-piece suit could have done a better job for this guy. Give Jimmy a banana; he’ll do as he’s told.
The hell with Johnson, Rodriguez is my client now, but the law said I had to pass along the offer. It wasn’t a bad deal, twenty-five to life for a vicious murder. Okay, I did what Johnson asked me to do. I gave him the deal. Now I’ll listen to what Rodriguez has to say-if he says anything. Then I’ll try to figure out what’s in his best interests.
“Mr. Rodriguez, c’mon man, talk to me. I’m on your side.”
“You say you work for me. You don’t want the truth. You work for the judge.”
“No, I-”
His eyes challenged me. “How much you get paid to lie?”
“I’m not lying. I’m just trying to get you the best deal I can.”
“I don’t want no stinking deals. I don’t care what they do to me. I am not going to tell the judge I am a woman killer.”
“Maybe you didn’t mean to kill her. Things just got out of hand-”
His nostrils flared. “You are not listening to me.”
“I’m trying, but you’re not saying much for me to listen to,” I said. “Look, Ernesto, we don’t stand a chance. They have all the evidence they need to get a conviction. They’ll nail you with first degree and you’ll rot in prison. You’ll never get out, but right now they want to settle the case.”
His voice exploded. “Que?”
“What do you mean why?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why, if they have such a strong case, do they want to settle with me, offer me a chance to be free someday?”
I sat straight back in my chair. Why indeed. “That’s a good question, Ernesto, and I don’t have an answer for it. I just don’t know.”
“Here is something else you don’t know, Mr. Lawyer Man. I would rather die in jail than lie and say that I killed Senorita Gloria. Even if they let me go, I would not say I killed her.” Then in a calm voice he asked, “You have any ninos?”
“No.”
“If you did, could you tell them you are a liar and a killer?”
“I see where you’re going with this, but do you want your kids to know you’re rotting away in a prison cell?”
“They will know I did not kill nobody. That is more importante.”
With all the evidence, he had to be guilty. But even so, he had the right to a fair trial. And I was the only person in the world standing between him and a life without hope. Was it better for him to take a deal? Should he accept a reduced charge, or was going to trial the better option? It had to be his choice, but I wanted him to understand the full consequences of going all the way.
“Are you absolutely sure you want to go to trial? We will most likely lose. Maybe it would be better if you got a new lawyer.”