“Yes, good idea,” I said. “I’ll call Muriel at lunch, see if they can come down. I’ll need her to bring some clothes for Lucinda. Just in case.”
As Bosch drove to the restaurant, I worked my phone, texting news about the two o’clock hearing to James Queally, Britta Shoot, and all the other reporters I knew. I wanted everybody there.
49
The courtroom was packed by two o’clock. In the first two rows of the gallery, members of the media were sitting shoulder to shoulder. The Sanger killing and the mysteries surrounding it was the biggest story going at the moment, and thanks to the Times article it was clear that the nexus of the case was courtroom 3 in the U.S. District Courthouse.
The two rows behind the media contained several members of Lucinda Sanz’s family, including her mother, son, and brother, as well as a variety of citizen observers, defense attorneys, and prosecutors who knew this courtroom was the place to be. In the last row, all the way in the back corner, sat Maggie McPherson with our daughter, Hayley. I was happy to see my daughter but puzzled by my ex-wife’s decision to be there, especially after her efforts against my client’s cause.
There was a palpable sense of momentousness in the air. The feeling that something unusual, maybe even extraordinary, was going to happen ramped up another notch when Lucinda was brought through the door from holding — for the first time not in MDC blues. Her mother had brought clothes for her and I got them to her in holding in time for her to change before the hearing. She wore a light blue Mexican housedress with short sleeves and flowers embroidered along the hem. Her hair was not in a tight ponytail but down and framing her face. A hush fell over the gallery as Marshal Nate escorted her to our table and cuffed her to the ring — hopefully for the last time.
“You look great,” I whispered. “I think it’s going to be a good day. Your son and mother and other family members are here to see it.”
“Is it okay for me to turn and look?” she asked.
“Of course it is. They’re here for you.”
“Okay.”
She turned and looked back into the gallery and tears immediately came to her eyes. She clasped her free hand into a fist and held it to her chest. I don’t know if I had ever been more moved by something I saw in a courtroom. When Lucinda turned to the front to hide her tears from her family, I put my arm around her shoulders and leaned in close to whisper.
“You’ve got a lot of love behind you.”
“I know that. They never gave up on me.”
“They knew the truth. And they’re going to hear it said today.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so.”
The silence from the gallery seemed to increase the tension in the room, and it doubled when two o’clock came and went without the judge emerging from chambers. The minutes ticked by like hours. Finally, at 2:25, Marshal Nate gave the order to rise as the judge took the bench. Coelho carried a thin file and seemed to be all business from the start.
“Please be seated,” she said. “We are back on the record with Sanz versus the State of California. It looks like we have a full house today. I want it known that the court will not tolerate any outbursts or demonstrations of any sort from those in the gallery as we proceed. This is a court of law and I expect decorum and respect from all those who come through these doors.”
She paused and scanned the gallery as if looking for dissenters. I saw her eyes hold for a moment when she reached the area where Maggie McPherson was sitting. Her focus then moved on, and with no challenges to her authority, Coelho finally brought her eyes down to me and then over to Morris. She asked if there was any new business before she proceeded to issue her ruling on the habeas petition.
Morris stood up.
“Yes, Your Honor,” he said. “The State of California, representing the people of California, renew our objection to the court’s decision to leapfrog the State’s case in this matter.”
I stood up and was ready to argue the point if needed.
“‘Leapfrog,’” the judge said. “An interesting choice of words, Mr. Morris. But as I said earlier in chambers, the State’s remedy here is to appeal the rulings of this court.”
“Then the State asks that this hearing be continued until there is an appellate ruling,” Morris said.
“Not happening, Mr. Morris,” Coelho said. “You file your appeal, but I am ready and I am going to rule today. Anything else?”
“No, Your Honor,” Morris said.
“No, Your Honor,” I said.
“Very well,” Coelho said.
She opened the file she had brought with her, put on a pair of glasses, and began to read her decision aloud. I looked over at Lucinda sitting next to me and nodded.
“The writ of habeas corpus is a fundamental pillar of our justice system,” Coelho said. “Chief Justice John Marshall wrote nearly two hundred years ago that habeas corpus is the sacred means of allowing for the liberation of those who may be imprisoned without sufficient cause. It safeguards our freedom, protects us from the arbitrary and lawless actions of the State.
“It is my job today to decide if the State made a lawless action in imprisoning Lucinda Sanz for the murder of Roberto Sanz. The question is complicated by the fact that the petitioner, Ms. Sanz, pleaded no contest to a charge of manslaughter. After carefully reviewing the evidence and testimony presented during this hearing and considering what happened outside court this week, the court holds that the petitioner saw the plea agreement she was offered as the only light at the end of a dark tunnel. Whether she was coerced by her attorney at the time — not you, Mr. Haller — or concluded on her own that she had no choice but to accept a plea agreement does not matter to this court. What does matter is the clear mandate of the Constitution and Bill of Rights that habeas relief be granted when the state court’s determination of a case is an unreasonable application of the law. This court finds that the petitioner has established that by producing clear and new evidence of the manufacturing of evidence against the petitioner.”
I made a fist and turned and whispered to Lucinda.
“You’re going home.”
“What about a trial?”
“Not when there’s manufactured evidence. This is over.”
Because I was turned toward Lucinda, I didn’t see Morris stand to object.
“Your Honor?” he said.
Coelho looked up from the document she was reading.
“Mr. Morris, you know better than to interrupt me,” she said. “You will sit down. I know what your objection is and you are overruled. Sit down. Now!”
Morris dropped down into his seat like a bag of dirty laundry.
“Continuing,” Coelho said, “as I expect no further interruptions.”
She looked down and it took her a moment to find the spot where she had left off.
“The actions of the sheriff’s department, particularly those taken by the late Sergeant Sanger, so damaged the integrity of the investigation and subsequent prosecution as to permanently embed it with reasonable doubt. Therefore, the ruling of this court is to grant habeas relief to the petitioner. The conviction of Lucinda Sanz is vacated.”
The judge closed the file and took off her glasses. The courtroom remained silent. She looked directly at Lucinda.
“Ms. Sanz, you are no longer convicted of this crime. Your freedom and civil rights are restored. I can only offer you the apology of this court for the five years you have lost. Godspeed to you. You are free to go, and this court is now adjourned.”
It seemed that it wasn’t until the judge had gone through the door and left the courtroom that everybody remaining took a breath. But then the sound of excited voices exploded in the room. Lucinda turned and hugged me, throwing her free arm around my neck.