Alex knew that every trial began long before the judge banged his gavel for the first time. Hers was not off to a good start.
Bonnie took a seat in the front row of the spectator section next to the bail bondsman, Carlos Guiterriz, who’d saved her a seat. Mason directed Alex to the middle chair at the counsel table. Before sitting, Alex scanned the faces in the courtroom, finding her boss, Robin Norris, standing against the rear wall next to her investigator, Grace Canfield. Robin was stone faced. Grace winked, nodded, and smiled, mouthing, Hang in there.
The rear doors opened again and Tommy Bradshaw made his entrance, trailed by Patrick Ortiz, Bradshaw’s predecessor as prosecuting attorney. Claire leaned toward Alex, whispering.
“I talked to Bradshaw this morning. His office is bowing out because of his relationship with you. He’s going to ask that Ortiz be appointed as special prosecutor.”
Alex nodded, her swirling emotions leaving her speechless. She and Bradshaw exchanged looks as he moved to the prosecution’s table. He struggled to remain impassive but couldn’t carry it off. He winced, swallowed hard, and turned away.
Patrick Ortiz was a middle-aged, pudgy, round-faced, slow-talking courtroom assassin. He was unpretentious, the kind of guy jurors wanted to have a beer with, and it was impossible for them not to like him. After losing the election to Bradshaw, he settled for the consolation prize-teaching at the University of Missouri at Kansas City School of Law. Alex envisioned him enlarging the crime scene photo of Dwayne Reed’s bloody body, setting it next to a blowup of her giddy entrance to the courtroom, and leaving the rest up to the jury. Game over.
The door from Judge Upton’s chambers opened. Everyone stood and hushed as the judge took his seat on the bench.
“The court calls State v. Stone,” the judge said. “Counsel, state your appearances.”
“Thomas Bradshaw for the state.”
“Claire Mason for the defendant, Alex Stone, who is also present.”
“Well,” Judge Upton said. “Looks like this arraignment is today’s hot ticket. Ladies and gentlemen, you’re welcome in my courtroom as long as you stay quiet and keep your phones off and your cameras where I can’t see them. Mr. Bradshaw, I see you’ve brought someone with you. I believe I know why, but I’ll let you put that on the record.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Because of my friendship with the defendant, my office is stepping aside in this matter, and we ask that the court appoint Patrick Ortiz, who preceded me in this office, as special prosecutor.”
“Any objection, Ms. Mason?”
“None, Your Honor. Mr. Ortiz is a fine fellow.”
“Very well,” the judge said. “Mr. Ortiz, it’s your show.”
“Excuse me, Your Honor,” Claire said. “I think we can expedite this hearing. We’ll waive reading of the charges, enter a plea of not guilty, and ask that the court release the defendant on her own recognizance. She’s a respected member of the bar, has deep roots in the community, and is neither a danger to others nor a flight risk.”
“Mr. Ortiz?”
“Thanks, Judge. I also know the defendant, though not nearly as well as Mr. Bradshaw, and up until yesterday, I’d have agreed with everything her counsel just said. But a man is dead, shot dead, and according to the charges brought against Ms. Stone, she’s the one that shot him. And now she’s charged with first-degree murder. I’m new to this case and I can’t rule out that we might seek the death penalty. It just seems to me that under all these circumstances, the defendant ought to be denied bail or, if Your Honor is inclined to release her, make sure she posts bail in a meaningful amount that respects the seriousness of these charges.”
Judge Upton turned to Claire. “Counsel?”
“I noticed that Mr. Ortiz didn’t say one word about Alex Stone being a flight risk or a danger to the community, and that’s because she isn’t. She wants her day in court and she isn’t going anywhere until she gets it. There’s no need to require her to post bail to secure her appearance, and there’s no law that says you should require bail in any amount just to make Mr. Ortiz feel better about things.”
“Your Honor, if I may,” Ortiz said. “Every defendant who appears before you starts out with good intentions, but life has a way of interfering. The decedent, Dwayne Reed, was released on his own recognizance, and now he’s dead. We probably wouldn’t be here if he’d had to post a meaningful bond, because he wouldn’t have been able to do that. He’d be sitting in jail instead of lying on a slab in the morgue.”
Judge Upton stiffened, his face reddening. “Are you suggesting that this court is somehow responsible for what happened to Mr. Reed?”
“Not at all, Your Honor,” Ortiz said, shaking his head. “I’m just saying that before someone charged with murder walks out of the courtroom, they ought to post bond in a meaningful amount.”
The judge glared at Ortiz, who took the heat, calmly rocking back on his heels, waiting for the judge to rule, knowing that he’d given the judge no choice. The media had already made the same point in their coverage of Dwayne’s murder. Having been portrayed as soft on crime for releasing Dwayne on his own recognizance, the judge couldn’t make the same mistake again. Ortiz knew that and didn’t care if he’d embarrassed or angered Judge Upton. He’d be back in the classroom when this case ended, and Judge Upton would be Tommy Bradshaw’s problem, not his.
“Bail is set at one million dollars,” Judge Upton said. “Ms. Mason, will the defendant be posting bond?”
Claire turned to Bonnie and Carlos, both of whom nodded. “Yes, Your Honor. We will.”
“Very well. The only other matter for this court is the assignment of this case for trial. All of the circuit court judges except for Judge West have followed Mr. Bradshaw’s lead and disqualified themselves from hearing this case, so I’m assigning it to him. Ms. Mason, you have the right to request assignment to a different judge within ten days of entering your client’s plea of not guilty. I’m not requiring that you make that decision today, but I want you to be aware that if you do request a change of judge, this case will be assigned to a visiting judge from another circuit. Judge West, as presiding judge, will handle that.”
“Understood, Your Honor. I’ll confer with my client and we’ll make a decision within the time provided.”
“In that case,” Judge Upton said, “we are adjourned.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rossi found Harris in the homicide unit, feet up, a muffin in one hand, coffee in the other, and the newspaper tented in his lap. He snatched the paper, folded it, and smacked Harris on the leg.
“Hey! I wasn’t done with the crossword.”
“Forget it. You never get past the three-letter words anyway.”
“I figured you’d be over at Alex Stone’s arraignment.”
“If I want to go to the circus, I’ll wait for Barnum and Bailey.”
“They’ve got better elephants but their clowns aren’t as good.”
“That’s a fact. C’mon. We need to get going.”
“Where?” Harris asked.
“Chouteau Courts.”
“That public housing project on Independence Ave.?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit. That dump’s got to be fifty years old. I thought they were going to tear it down.”
“What I heard last year. Long as they don’t do it before we get there.”
Harris stuffed the rest of his muffin in his mouth, washing it down with his coffee, and followed Rossi to the street.
“What’s the attraction?”
“A woman named Virginia Sprague lives there. She’s Kyrie Chapman’s grandmother.”
“And?”
“Gloria Temple’s last known address was at Choteau Courts,” Rossi said, filling Harris in on the rest as they got in Rossi’s car and headed east from downtown.
“So you’re thinking Gloria was living with Grandma,” Harris said.