“Which is?”
“Well, it gives her a case in point to press the County Board for an emergency-funding authorization for increased courthouse security.”
“And I’m the poster child?” George does not try to hide his irritation. He’s been keeping this a secret in his household, and now Marina, who clearly has her own agenda, wants to make him the lead item in the Metro Section.
“Hardly,” Rusty says. “Hardly. We’ll explain to the Board without names. But after the murder in Cincinnati, this gives us a wedge to get some dollars back. Let them hire a few less flunkies to patrol the Public Forest.”
Marina likes to joke that last year the Board made her reduce her two-man security patrols in the garage to one officer and a German shepherd, and this year they want to replace the shepherd with a Chihuahua. And with #1’s threats as evidence, Rusty may be able to convince the County Board to restore funds, since they often defer to his reputation.
It’s sometimes hard to explain to younger people how Rusty Sabich came to be the public embodiment of probity, inasmuch as nearly twenty years ago, while he was the Chief Deputy Prosecutor, Rusty was indicted and tried for the murder of a female colleague. From the start, George had stood by him, and was not surprised when the case presented against Rusty turned out to be an outright embarrassment, a mishmash of bad lab work, missing evidence, and unreliable witnesses. The only lingering debate today is whether the then newly elected P.A., who saw Rusty as a potential rival, framed him or, as George believes, was simply far too eager to reach the wrong conclusions.
Either way, as the acknowledged victim of a horrible injustice, Sabich had singular qualifications to be a judge. He was elected to this court in 1988, then propelled to Chief by the same courthouse scandal that first swept George onto the bench. Rusty is regarded as a sure thing for the state Supreme Court, whenever Ned Halsey surrenders what is colloquially referred to as “the white man’s seat,” in distinction to the two other spots on the Court reserved for Kindle County, which are filled in accordance with recent political understandings by a racial minority and a woman.
But there remains an air of aloofness to Rusty, which at times borders on pretension. Once accused of murder, he is forever straightening his spine. His life is as neatly divided by the experience as if someone had painted a stripe through it. George understands but occasionally dislikes who Rusty has become in the aftermath, often depressed and sometimes officious, as he was just now about Marina, and almost always on guard. That said, he has been an extraordinary Chief Judge. He became an able manager running the P.A.’s office, and he has used his public stature to wrest control of this court from the party chieftains, transforming it into a respected judicial body.
Together now they hunch to enter the half-height door to the High Court. They are well matched physically, both tallish, fit, and gray. Rusty has bulked up a little more with age, and George may be a bit faster now, but that does not make up for what Rusty learned by playing this game since he was a boy, an ingrained intuition about how every ball will carom. He wins consistently and by long agreement spots George points, two in the games to twenty-one, one if the match goes to the eleven-point tiebreaker. Still agitated about Marina, George plays with fury and wins the first game straight up, 21 to 17.
“You’re not going to have anything left for game two,” Rusty says when they take a breather at the watercooler.
“Trash-talk somebody else, you old fart. I think you’ve finally lost a step.”
“Another one,” Sabich says.
George rests his hands on his knees. Rusty is right that he pushed himself hard.
“So here’s my next item, George. What’s the deal with your retention petition?”
“I have two weeks.”
“Formally,” Rusty answers. “But look, George. There are a hundred and fifty judges in the Superior Court who’d like to move up. You’ve been there. Everybody gets sick of the grind. Trials. Motions. Lawyers with all their cockamamie. I’ve gotten six calls this week. Not to mention Nathan.”
“Koll?” Nathan’s seat is being eliminated for budgetary reasons, which is what led Jerry Ryan, the judge elected to the position, to resign in pique. Nathan will not be eligible simply to seek retention.
“Just because his appointment lasts two more years doesn’t mean he can’t run for a full-term seat if a vacancy develops now. I bet he sends his clerks downstairs twice a day to see if you’ve filed. George, you can’t do that to us. We’re your friends.” Rusty is smiling. It was he who encouraged the Supreme Court to give the interim appointment to Nathan, thinking that the addition of a famous legal scholar would be another enhancement to the stature of the court. These days, he says he’d like to donate Nathan’s body to science-while he’s still living. “Seriously, George. We need you around here. Don’t let this hairball’s threats give you second thoughts about staying on.”
There is an unspoken issue. Rusty has controlled membership on the court for more than a decade and does not want anybody making an end run around him. If George were uninterested in retention, he owed the Chief word of that long ago.
“It’s not that, Rusty. I’ve just been waiting for all the dust to settle with Patrice.”
“Sure. But raising false hopes, you’ll end up making enemies you don’t need. Get the papers filed. And speaking of Nathan, what’s he up to on Warnovits? I read a bizarre item in the Tribune about your oral argument yesterday.”
Like everybody else, Rusty finds the story of Koll’s sneak attack on Sapperstein hilarious.
“So he’s going to dissent on those grounds?” Rusty asks.
“Or concur separately.”
The idea that George might vote to reverse catches the Chief short.
“I think the limitations issue is tough, Rusty.”
“Really?” Sabich’s eyes are open wide as he calculates. Among Rusty’s concerns as Chief is maintaining public respect for the court’s decisions. But there is a line here. The judges often ask one another about abstract legal issues, but it is out of bounds for a judge not sitting on a case to suggest an outcome.
With no more said, Rusty waves George back onto the court. Halfway through the second game, with the score 10-10, George realizes that he does not have the juice to go on to a tiebreaker. His only hope for the match is to take this game. Before each point he stops to fill his lungs, exhorting himself to press all-out. Ahead 20 to 19, with the serve, George ends a long rally with a desperate lunge for a great passing shot Rusty has hit. The ball flips off George’s fingertips, arching up like a diver and plunging in slow motion to strike the very base of the front wall. George has won.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Rusty says. George has not beaten him two games to naught all year.
George collects the ball and finds Rusty with his hand on the door.
“So let me understand this. Koll votes to reverse because the videotape was inadmissible, you vote to reverse because of limitations, and Summer dissents on both grounds. Is that how this is breaking down?” George sags a little, realizing that his triumph was due in part to the Chief’s distraction with Warnovits.
“That’s one scenario. I took the opinion, and I have no clue yet what I’m going to do, Russ.”
“Well, that’s a relief. Look, George, don’t let Nathan mousetrap you on this thing.”
“ ‘Mousetrap’?”
“Play it out. Reverse on limitations grounds and what happens to the case?”
“ Finito. ”
“Right. But Nathan’s grounds?”
George shrugs. He’s never gotten that far in his own mind.
“Think about it,” the Chief says. “If you guys hold only that the tape was inadmissible, the prosecutors will be able to go back to square one. You’ll already have decided that there’s no limitations bar, and so under the statute, the P.A.’s office gets one year from the reversal to reindict the case with any violations that spring from the same criminal transaction. Right so far?”