I was relieved. The assistant AG’s argument was complete bullshit. Morris was clearly grasping at straws, which told me how concerned he was about Sanger testifying. I now just had to make sure I could get her on the stand.
“Mr. Haller?” the judge said. “Your response?”
“Thank you, Judge,” I said. “I would love to respond. First of all, I’ve practiced law in this town for decades and this is the first time I’ve ever heard the term willy-nilly put forth as the basis of an objection. I must have missed that in law school, but to use my colleague’s word, his argument is willy-nilly and, I’ll add, absurd. My investigator Harry Bosch spent more than forty years as a police officer and detective with the Los Angeles Police Department. He knows how to conduct a proper photo lineup. He first asked the supervisors at the prison for a private attorney room to meet with Ms. Sanz but he was denied that. So he met with Ms. Sanz in a booth in the visitation room and proceeded as outlined in my request for a subpoena. He showed Ms. Sanz one photo at a time and did not pick the phone up until after she had seen all six photos. That was when she made the identification. There was nothing untoward, nothing sneaky, nothing even willy-nilly — whatever that means. And, Your Honor, a prison camera recorded every moment of it. If there were any truth to the accusation of a tainted identification, then Mr. Morris would have shown us the video from that camera. If we want to delay this hearing and further the illegal incarceration of Lucinda Sanz, we can halt everything while the court orders that the video be brought forward for review.”
“Your Honor?” Morris said.
“Not yet, Mr. Morris,” Coelho said. “Mr. Haller, a response to the first part of the objection?”
“Mr. Morris makes reference to other investigations of a confidential nature,” I said. “He’s clearly desperate. I have no intention of bringing up any investigation other than the flawed and corrupt investigation into the killing of Roberto Sanz. The witness he is trying to keep from testifying was knee-deep in that investigation and Mr. Morris wants to prevent the court from finding out the truth about this matter. No other investigation will be mentioned. I stipulate to that right now. If I stray from it, the court can shut me down.”
There was a pause and then Morris tried for a second bite of the apple.
“Your Honor, if I could respond briefly,” he said.
“That won’t be necessary,” Coelho said. “Do you have a video recording of the investigator showing the plaintiff the photos?”
“No, Your Honor, I don’t,” Morris said.
“Have you seen it?” Coelho pressed. “Was it the basis of your motion?”
“No, Your Honor,” Morris said meekly. “Our basis was the subpoena request from the plaintiff.”
“Then you are unprepared to support your argument,” Coelho said. “The motion to quash is denied. Sergeant Sanger is excused from the courtroom until such time as she is called to testify. Anything else, gentlemen, before we start hearing from witnesses in this matter?”
Morris stood up at his table again.
“Yes, Your Honor,” he said.
“Very well,” Coelho said. “What have you got?”
“As the court knows, this motion was sealed by the court at the request of the State,” Morris said. “This was to prevent it from being played out in the media, as opposing counsel has shown a propensity to do in past cases.”
I stood up.
“Objection,” I said. “Your Honor, the assistant attorney general is doing anything and everything in his power to distract the court from the fact—”
“Mr. Haller,” Coelho said forcefully. “I don’t like counsel interrupting each other. If I deem that Mr. Morris’s argument has merit, you will get your chance to respond. Now, sit down, please, and let him finish.”
I did as I was told, hoping my objection would at least throw Morris off his game.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Morris said. “As I was saying, this motion was sealed by the court until such time as a hearing on the matter began.”
“Which is right now, Mr. Morris,” Coelho said. “I know where you are going with this. I see representatives of the media in the gallery and have approved a request for a courtroom artist. This matter is no longer sealed. We are in open court. What is your objection?”
“The court received the request for a courtroom artist on Friday,” Morris said. “We were all copied. At that time this matter was still under seal and yet the media was somehow alerted to it. The State asks for sanctions against plaintiff’s counsel for violating the court order sealing the petition.”
I stood once again but did not interrupt. I just wanted the judge to know I was ready to respond. But she held out a hand and patted the air, a signal for me to sit down again. I did.
“Mr. Morris, you are doing what two minutes ago you accused Mr. Haller of,” Coelho said. “Playing to the media. I am sure that if I asked Mr. Haller whether he alerted the media to this hearing before the seal was lifted, he would say he did not and that there is no evidence to the contrary. Frankly, I think he is too smart to have done such a thing himself. So, Mr. Morris, unless you can provide such evidence, then all you are doing here is grandstanding. I would rather you did not. I would rather get to what we are actually here to do. There will be no sanctions. Now, Mr. Haller, are you ready to proceed?”
I stood up, this time buttoning my jacket as though it were a shield and I was going into battle.
“We are ready,” I said.
“Very well,” the judge said. “Call your first witness.”
25
I had turned down an offer from Judge Coelho to allow Lucinda Sanz to dress in street clothes supplied by her mother. I didn’t want to agree to anything that would distract from the fact that this woman had been in prison for five years for a crime she did not commit. I wanted her appearance to be a constant reminder to the judge of how a wrongful prosecution had taken everything away from her — her son, her family, her freedom, and her livelihood — and left her with a blue jumpsuit with CDC INMATE stenciled on it, front and back.
Sitting in the witness chair, Lucinda seemed small, her face barely rising above the ornate wooden railing in front of her. Her hair was pulled back in a short ponytail; the line of her jaw was sharp. She looked scared but resolute. I would question her first. That would be the easy part. Morris’s cross-examination was where the danger lay. He had the transcripts from the first interview she’d given investigators almost six years ago and the deposition taken at Chino two months ago. While I had avoided using the deposition option that came with a civil action, Morris had elected to depose Lucinda, a clear sign of his strategy. If he could catch her in a single lie, he could discredit her and the whole claim that she was innocent.
“Is it all right if I call you Cindi?” I asked.
“Uh, yes,” she said.
“Cindi, please tell the court where you live and how long you have lived there.”
Before Lucinda could speak, Morris cut in.
“Your Honor, the aspects of Ms. Sanz’s incarceration for a crime she confessed to are well known to all parties and the court,” he said. “Can we just move to matters germane to the petition?”
“Is that an objection, Mr. Morris?” Coelho asked.
“Yes, Your Honor, it is.”
“Very well. Sustained. Mr. Haller, move on and get to the reason we are here today.”
I nodded. So it was going to be like that.
“Yes, Your Honor,” I said. “Cindi, did you kill your ex-husband, Roberto Sanz?”
“I did not,” Lucinda said.