“Brian is my biological son. Isn’t that personal?”
“Not if there’s no consequences to you if you lose.”
“Brian loses his mother if I lose the case. Those are serious consequences.”
“For Brian, not for you.”
“I don’t distinguish between the two. I’m doing this for his benefit.”
“Are you? Or do you sit back and think, Oh well, if I lose this case, I’ll look after Brian. I’ll make sure he’s raised properly. I’ll have my own life with Brian.”
“I haven’t thought anything of the sort. If his mother’s innocent, I want to get her acquitted.”
“And if you lose, you should lose the same thing I’m losing.”
“Meaning what?”
She leaned closer and said, “If I lose, I lose Brian. If you lose, then you should lose Brian, too.”
Jack chuckled nervously. “This is crazy.”
Her eyes brightened, as if she were suddenly on to something. “No, it’s not crazy. You lawyers can be so dispassionate about the life-and-death decisions you make for other people. Maybe it’s time you feel the way your clients feel.”
“Exactly what are you saying?”
“I have two lawyers now, you and Sofia. I want Sofia to be the one who deals with Brian, not you. You get to meet Brian if, and only if, you win the case.”
“I can’t operate under those rules.”
“What did you expect? That I would pull you aside at trial and say, ‘Oh, Jack, promise me one thing: If I don’t get out of prison, please make sure that Brian is well taken care of?’ That’s fairy tales. I want you to have everything riding on winning.”
“You’re using your own son as a carrot on a stick.”
“I’m doing everything I possibly can to make sure the mother who loves him will be there to raise him. What’s so terrible about that?”
“This isn’t what’s best for Brian. It’s what’s best for you.”
“Like you said before. I don’t see the distinction between the two.”
“It’s not going to make me win your case.”
“No. But it might keep you from losing it.”
“It also might keep me from being your lawyer.”
“What are you going to do, quit?”
“Yeah,” said Jack, rising. “I quit.”
“Wait a minute. You can’t quit. Once the case starts, a criminal lawyer needs the judge’s permission to quit.”
“But as you so happily pointed out earlier, you have two lawyers now. That means the judge will let one of us quit whenever we want. You still have a lawyer, so it won’t delay the case.”
Her expression fell. Jack walked toward the door.
“Jack, please.”
“No, you’ve made your decision. I’m outta here.” He pushed the button near the door, and a buzzer sounded for the guard.
“Wait!” she said, her voice shaking. “I’ll make a deal with you. You can make all the strategy decisions you want. The Cuban soldier as witness, all that stuff. It’s your bailiwick.”
“What about Brian?”
“We agree to do what’s best for him.”
“Which means what?”
“This is how I see it. Brian shouldn’t meet you when I say so. He shouldn’t meet you when you say so. I’d like him to meet you when he asks to see his biological father. I can’t think of a better way to know when he’s ready.”
“You told him he was adopted?”
“Yes. I told him. Before I was arrested.”
Jack didn’t say anything.
She said, “That would be the ideal way to handle it, don’t you think?”
“A murder trial is hardly an ideal situation. What if I need to talk to him before then?”
“I’ll take you at your word. If Sofia can do as good a job as you can, you’ll let Sofia interview him. Only if you think it’s absolutely necessary to talk to him directly do you have any direct contact with Brian.”
Jack considered it. The restriction seemed silly, almost pointless, except that it was just enough to let her feel as though she was standing her ground and saving a little dignity-which went a long way in prison. “All right,” said Jack. “You have my word on that.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell Sofia the same thing, so she knows what we agreed to.”
“I’ll tell her,” said Jack.
The guard was at the door. Before Jack pushed the buzzer again to open it, Lindsey looked at Jack and said, “In case you’re wondering, finding out that he was adopted…it didn’t ease the pain of losing his father. Not a bit.”
In another tone of voice, it could have sounded harsh, but there wasn’t an ounce of malice in Lindsey’s delivery. It was just a statement of fact, perhaps a not-so-subtle reminder that Jack shouldn’t expect too much out of his first meeting with Brian.
“I’d still like to meet him some day. Under better circumstances, I mean.”
“That’s kind of up to you, isn’t it, Counselor?”
Jack was about to punch the door buzzer, then stopped. He turned and gave Lindsey a serious look. “Tell me one more thing.”
“What?”
“The forensic report. It says your fingerprints were found on the murder weapon.”
“Does that surprise you?”
“Only if you don’t have a good explanation.”
She shrugged, as if it were nothing. “Of course my prints were on it. The gun was in our house. Do you think I was going to have a gun in my home and not know how to use it?”
“So you handled the gun before?”
“Oscar and I shot it together. Many times.”
“He didn’t clean it?”
“Of course he cleaned it. But I guess he missed a print or two.”
Jack nodded. It would have been difficult to script a better answer. And perhaps that was what concerned him.
Jack pushed the button, the buzzer sounded, and the door opened. He said good-bye to his client, then headed down the corridor with the guard, the sound of shoe leather on concrete echoing off the prison walls. It hadn’t been exactly the meeting he’d hoped for, but it had turned out all right, he supposed. Still, he was worried. Worried about Brian. Worried about future outbursts from Lindsey.
And somewhere, in the deepest corners of his mind, he was worried about whose number Lindsey might be dialing at that very moment on her magic cell phone.
23
On Friday morning, Jack was in court. The prosecutor wasn’t happy to be there, and Jack probably would have preferred to soak his feet in kerosene and walk across flaming embers. But at some point he was going to have to bring it to the court’s attention that the star witness for the defense might well be a Cuban soldier. Today was the day.
“All rise!” said the bailiff as the judge entered the courtroom.
Jack and Sofia rose. So did the prosecutors. There was no one else. The hearing was closed to the public because it involved a “sensitive” matter, not quite on the level of national security, but something akin thereto. Not even Jack’s client was allowed in the courtroom. By court order, Jack’s motion would be argued in camera, for the eyes and ears of the lawyers only.
“Good morning,” said the judge as he settled into his chair. Judge Garcia was one of the oldest federal judges in south Florida, a Reagan appointee whose confirmation had slipped through the U.S. Senate while his would-be opponents were obsessed with keeping the less conservative Robert Bork off the Supreme Court. Miami was one of those strange places where drawing an Hispanic judge was more often than not the kiss of death for any lawyer advancing the traditional agenda of Hispanic Democrats. Jack was just glad he wasn’t here on an affirmative-action case.
The lawyers greeted him and announced their appearances. Hector Torres, as U.S. attorney, staked out his position as lead trial counsel. With him was a lawyer from the Justice Department. A Washington connection-no surprise there.
The judge cleared his throat and said, “I’ve read the papers that the defense filed under seal. The transcript of this hearing will also be kept under seal. And I’m issuing a gag order that prevents anyone from discussing this hearing outside of this courtroom. Is that understood?”