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“You kidding me, man? All lawyers work for the judges. I will tell them I did not do it and they can do what they want with me. I don’t need no lawyer.”

“Listen to me, Ernesto, you need a lawyer-believe me you need a lawyer. And, unless you want someone else, I’m it. If you want me, I’ll work for you, not the judge or the system. But I’m obligated to tell you the deal that they’re offering.”

“I told you! I want no deal.”

“That means you’ll have to stand trial. They have a mortal-lock case, means they’ll win and you’ll go to jail forever. We have no evidence to present, no witnesses- nothing-we have no money. Christ Almighty, Rodriguez!”

Ernesto Rodriguez continued to sit there with his head down. I wasn’t getting through to him. “Listen to me. The complaint says ‘The People of the State of California versus Ernesto Rodriguez.’ That’s twenty million people against you. How can you possibly win?”

“I don’t care. I already lost. They don’t give a damn about anything. I’m a Mexican piece of shit, just another spic in their eyes. But I won’t lie to make them feel better when they slam that iron door on me.”

There might have been some truth in what he said about the ugly specter of racial prejudice in the system. But in this case, with all the evidence pointing at him, they had the right guy.

“One last chance, guilty or not guilty?”

He shook his head violently. “Not guilty!”

I knew Johnson would be pissed, but I couldn’t plead him down to second degree without his consent. If he wanted to maintain his innocence, then we would go to trial. If that’s the way it’s going to be, then I’d give Rodriguez everything I had. If Johnson doesn’t like it, so what!

“I promise I’ll do the best I can for you,” I said to Ernesto Rodriguez. “I’ll tell them you didn’t do it, and we’ll go to trial.”

The voice of the deputy sheriff followed the metallic sound of the lock being turned. “It’s time to remove the prisoner. His arraignment’s in ten minutes.”

“Ernesto, I’ll see you in the courtroom.” I stood up to leave. The guard untangled the chains binding Rodriguez to the chair. He looked up at me, and his eyes softened. I think he gave me a slight nod before they dragged him away.

C H A P T E R 4

I walked into Division III somewhat concerned about the arraignment, wondering if Johnson would explode when I announced the not guilty plea. Placing my briefcase on the defendant’s table, I glanced at the prosecutor’s station.

Roberta Allen hadn’t arrived.

Because of the extra security required in a prominent murder case, only one arraignment would be held in the morning session: The People versus Ernesto Rodriguez.

Two guards entered with Rodriguez handcuffed between them. They brought him to the defendant’s table and sat him down next to me. He sat stiffly, turning his head, looking in all directions with wide eyes, like someone caught in a trap in a strange land.

Roberta Allen finally entered, checked in with the clerk and walked briskly to her table. She wore a no-nonsense prosecutor’s outfit: a charcoal jacket and a slim skirt, but somehow she made it seem feminine. Without acknowledging my presence, she sat and arranged several documents in front of her.

My client looked like he might break in two if he bent over. I turned to the bailiff. “Can’t you remove his cuffs during the proceedings?” I asked.

“We have our orders-security. You know better than that.”

“I’ll take responsibility.”

“No way, forget it.”

A small green light flashed above the chamber door, a cue to the bailiff. He moved to the front and turned to face us. “All rise. The court is now in session. The Honorable Robert B. Johnson presiding.”

Johnson strolled in, adjusting his black robes as he ascended the steps to his throne. “Clerk, call the case,” he said.

“Docket number 72-3852, the People of the State of California versus Ernesto Rodriguez, section 187, Penal Code. Murder in the first degree,” the clerk said and took her seat.

“James O’Brien, counsel for the defendant, Judge.” I placed my hand on Rodriguez’s shoulder.

“Roberta Allen for the People, Your Honor,” she said, then sat and adjusted her skirt.

The Judge glanced from Roberta to me. He paused a bit too long when he looked at me. Finally, he said, “Mr. Rodriguez, you are charged with murder in the first degree. Shall the court read the complaint?”

“Reading waived,” I said.

“The People move to reduce the sentence, second degree, if the defendant pleads guilty today,” Roberta said, half standing.

Johnson nodded at her. “So ordered.” Then he turned back to Rodriguez and me. “How do you plead to the charge? Guilty or not guilty?” The arraignment: just another routine matter, all in a day’s work.

The critical moment had arrived. I leaned into Rodriguez.

“Last chance, still not guilty?” I whispered.

His silence answered my question.

I took a deep breath. “My client, Ernesto Rodriguez, pleads-not guilty.”

Johnson leaned forward, frowning. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

I glanced at the prosecutor’s table and saw Roberta stuffing papers into her briefcase. I turned back to Johnson. “Not guilty, your honor.”

The plea obviously confused Johnson. He swung his head from me to the prosecutor’s table and back again. “Approach the bench,” he ordered.

The deputy D.A. and I walked forward. Johnson put his hand over the mike fixed to his desk. “What’s this all about, O’Brien?”

“Deal’s off. Like I said, not guilty.”

“You can’t change the deal.” He glanced at Roberta.

“Didn’t we agree on a deal?” Before she answered, he faced me again. “You were supposed to bring in a plea.”

“Rodriguez refused it.”

“Just what are you trying to pull?”

Roberta jumped in. “Judge, the People made an offer. Mr. O’Brien and his client refused the deal. We’re ready to go forward. We’ll take the case to trial.”

Johnson gave her a dismissive wave and continued to stare at me. “Have you explained to Rodriguez that he’ll lose his case and die in prison? Did you tell him there’s no way he can win?”

“Judge, he says he didn’t do it.”

Johnson’s confusion turned to anger. “That’s bull and you know it. I don’t think you tried to get a plea, I think you saw dollar signs, six to nine months of steady work. Talk to your client again. Get the guilty plea!”

“Won’t do any good. His mind is made up.”

“I want to talk to him myself.”

I felt my face getting hot. “You’re going beyond your authority. My client says he didn’t do it, and maybe he didn’t. He has a right to a trial. I signed on as his lawyer. I’m staying.”

Roberta broke in, cool and calm. “Your Honor, Mr. O’Brien has agreed to represent the defendant. I suggest we set a date for the prelim.”

Johnson looked at Roberta one more time, then sighed. “All right, O’Brien, it’s your case. Don’t come back later and try to get released and don’t think you’ll get any money from the county. You won’t get a lousy dime. If Rodriguez wants you, you’re stuck.”

I turned to my client and watched him stand with his head bowed. I hoped he was praying silently for a miracle. He had to know the consequences of his decision. Going to trial, murder one, no money and the deck stacked against him. A sure trip to oblivion.

“Trial is set for sixty days from today in Norwalk Superior Court,” Johnson said, biting his words. “Preliminary hearing in ten days, also at Norwalk. Does that suit the People, Miss Allen?”

She nodded.

“Okay, court’s adjourned.” Johnson picked up his gavel.

I figured I’d push it a little. “Wait a minute, Judge, let’s keep the date open.” Without consulting Rodriguez, I said, “My client waives time. It’ll take longer to be properly prepared.”

“You will be in Norwalk Superior Court in sixty days ready for trial. Is that clear?” Johnson raised his gavel, ready to slam it down. “And, remember, not a dime from the county. I’ll see to it.”