When I got to Coelho’s courtroom, Morris was already there waiting. He did not acknowledge me. He sat stone silent at the State’s table, not even responding when I casually said hello to him as well as to the court’s clerk and the stenographer, Milly.
Gian Brown called the judge in chambers to say all parties were present and she told him to send us back to her along with the stenographer. We went silently. Morris looked like he’d experienced a couple of sleepless nights.
The judge’s robe was on a hanger on the back of the door to her chambers. She was dressed in black pants and a white blouse.
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming,” she said. “Let Milly get set up and then I’d like to go on the record in the Sanz matter.”
“Should Lucinda be here?” I asked.
“I don’t think it’s necessary for this meeting,” Coelho said. “But I did tell the marshals to bring her over from MDC for the afternoon session.”
That told me that the case wasn’t over — yet.
We sat silently as the stenographer moved into the corner behind the judge’s desk, sat on a padded stool already there, and poised her fingers over her steno machine.
“Okay, on the record again with Sanz versus the State of California,” Coelho said. “Mr. Haller, where are you with the presentation of your case?”
I’d known she would ask this question and was prepared for it.
“Your Honor, in light of what has transpired and the fact that I can’t continue with Sergeant Sanger as a witness, I’m prepared to rest my case and proceed with final arguments. If final arguments are even necessary.”
Coelho nodded, having expected that answer.
“Mr. Morris?” she said.
The prosecutor seemed to sense that the case was on the line. His tone was defensive from the start.
“The State is ready to proceed, Your Honor,” Morris said. “We have witnesses, including a witness who will testify that Lucinda Sanz confessed to her that she killed her husband.”
I smiled and shook my head.
“You can’t be serious,” I said. “Your witness is a little leaky, Hayden. She’s a convicted killer who concocted this confession from newspaper stories she had her brother pull from the library downtown and read to her over the phone.”
I could tell that the brother was new information to Morris and that he was realizing that his team had failed to properly vet the witness.
“One day,” I went on. “That’s all it took to find the brother. I was going to destroy your witness on the stand. But it doesn’t matter now. Have you read the paper today? Sanger was a killer and she killed Roberto Sanz. There is no doubt about that. And my investigator witnessed her murder. She was arguing with a guy she obviously knew — she let him get close enough to grab her gun. Bosch spent an entire night with the cops, the DEA, and everybody else, looking at mug shots. The guy he identified as the shooter is a sicario for the Sinaloa cartel. A hit man!”
Morris shook his head as if to ward off the truth.
“She pleaded no contest,” he said.
He’d gone back to his case mantra: Lucinda pleaded no contest to killing her ex-husband. Innocent people didn’t do that.
“She had no choice,” I said. “That’s what this is about. She got railroaded. She had a bad lawyer, and the key piece of evidence against her was manufactured by Sanger. We were in the middle of proving that when Sanger was put down.”
Morris looked at the judge, ignoring me.
“Judge, we are entitled to present our case,” he said. “He got to present his. Now we present ours.”
“You’re not entitled to anything, Mr. Morris,” Coelho said. “Not in my courtroom. Not until I tell you what you are entitled to.”
“Apologies, Your Honor,” Morris said. “I misspoke. What I meant was—”
“I don’t need to hear it,” the judge said, cutting Morris off. “I’m prepared to rule on the petition. I just wanted to give you gentlemen a heads-up. At two o’clock we will convene in the courtroom and I will announce my decision. That will be all for now. You may go.”
“You can’t do this,” Morris said. “The State strenuously objects to the court’s rendering of a decision before the State has presented its case.”
“Mr. Morris, if the State disagrees with my ruling it can take the matter up on appeal,” Coelho said. “But I think your appellate branch will look at the case closely and decide not to embarrass itself. We are adjourned and off the record now. I will see you both in the courtroom at two. In the meantime, go have a nice lunch.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” I said.
I stood up. Morris looked paralyzed. He seemed unable to get up from his chair.
“Mr. Morris, are you leaving?” Coelho asked.
“Uh, yes, I’m leaving,” Morris said.
He rocked back, then forward, using the momentum to launch himself out of the chair.
This time I led the way back to the courtroom, and when I got to the door, I opened it wide for Morris to go through first.
“After you,” I said.
“Fuck you,” he said.
I nodded. I had seen that coming.
In the courtroom I checked the time and saw that I had a solid two hours before the hearing resumed and Coelho gave the ruling that I believed would end the case. Still, I didn’t think there was enough time for me to get over to MDC to prep Lucinda before they started procedures to move her to the courthouse. I texted Bosch and told him to pick me up out front.
I took the elevator down and saw Bosch in the Navigator when I stepped through the heavy lobby doors. I glanced along the front of the building to the designated smoking section on the north side. It was still taped off and I wondered whether the tape had just been forgotten or if there was still an on-scene investigation at the spot where Sanger was killed.
I opened the front door of the Navigator and jumped in.
“Harry, we just climbed El Cap,” I said. “Let’s go eat.”
“Where?” Bosch said. “And what’s that mean?”
“I told you about climbing El Cap. The judge is going to rule on the habeas this afternoon and she’s going to rule for us. Let’s go over to Nick and Stef’s and get steak for lunch. I always eat steak when I win.”
“How are you sure it’s a win? The judge told you this?”
“Not in so many words. But I feel it. My courtroom barometer tells me this is over.”
“And Lucinda is going to walk?”
“Depends. The judge could vacate the conviction and set her free. But she could also send the case back to the district attorney’s office and let them decide whether or not to take her to trial. If that happens, she could keep Lucinda incarcerated until the choice is made or until the AG’s office decides if they’re going to appeal. We’ll know for sure at two.”
Bosch whistled as he pulled the Navigator away from the curb.
“And all because you pulled a needle out of a haystack,” I said. “Amazing. We make a good team, Harry.”
“Yeah, well...”
“Come on, man. Don’t rain on the parade.”
“No rain. But I’ll wait till it’s official. I don’t have a courtroom barometer.”
“I gotta call Shami. She’ll want to be in court for this.”
“What about Silver?”
“Second-Place Silver can read about it in the news. I’m not doing him any favors. He cost Lucinda five years of her life.”
Bosch nodded in agreement.
“Fuck him,” he said.
“Fuck him,” I repeated.
“What about her kid?” Bosch asked. “Should we get him to court?”