He also wasn't exactly sure why he'd come today – this was the second arraignment for Jennifer and she certainly wasn't going to change her plea. Maybe, he told Frannie lightly, he missed being in a courtroom. Now he wondered if there hadn't been a germ of truth there.
This was supposed to be a more or less pro forma administrative procedure that would determine the date that Jennifer's trial would start or, more precisely, when it would relocate to its eventual Department. Once the presiding trial judge and the courtroom were assigned, which would be at another calendaring Monday like this one, the trial itself might not start for another six months to a year.
But Thomasino started things off with a curve ball from the bench. Judges had different techniques to combat the routine. Hardy was beginning to understand that Thomasino like to start the day with a little drama before wading into the sea of paperwork. "Mr. Freeman, is your client all right?" He was taking her in – pale, thin, hair hacked off unevenly.
Dean Powell, who had hardly been paying attention, stood up. "Your Honor, we will stipulate that Mrs. Witt may have been badly treated during her incarceration in Costa Rica, she-"
Thomasino used his gavel. Everyone in the courtroom jumped. "The court addressed its remarks to Mr. Freeman," he said mildly. "If I remember, he could speak for himself last time we did this." His face was stern, but there was something near-playful behind it. "Mr. Freeman?"
With the door open it was Freeman's nature to stick his foot in. "Your Honor, my client has been badly beaten. She needs medical attention. She is so intimidated by what she's gone through that she's afraid to say anything. Certainly her civil rights have been violated. The People have given up this case by their handling of the entire extradition process."
"Didn't this alleged beating take place in Costa Rica?"
"They were our proceedings. It would not have happened if we hadn't-"
Thomasino's spark of humor vanished. "It wouldn't have happened if your client had not broken out of our jail here and fled the country."
"Nevertheless, Your Honor-"
"Nevertheless, Mr. Freeman, I've got a full docket and I think the air conditioner's starting to act up. You mind if we get on with it?" Evidently Freeman did mind – his retort was on the way when Thomasino leaned out of his chair. "Give it a rest, David." Freeman, confidently, patted Jennifer's arm. She had no reaction.
Thomasino was back at his printout writing himself a note. "I assume, given the… interruptions to this point, that everybody's ready to proceed. Is that the case, Mr. Powell?"
"It is, Your Honor."
"Mr. Freeman?"
Freeman had another problem here. Normally in a potential death-penalty case the defense would delay and delay and then try to delay some more. But he had discussed this with Jennifer and, as usual, she hadn't agreed with his decision or strategy.
Powell wanted the trial to begin quickly, and to conclude before the election in November. As a matter of principle, Freeman hated to agree to anything the prosecution wanted, but Jennifer had tied his hands. She was in jail and she wasn't getting out until she was found not guilty. Not unreasonably from her viewpoint, she wanted the trial to begin as soon as possible.
Freeman had told her it wasn't at all certain that she would be cleared. She was up for three counts of capital murder, and he knew that the DA would not frivolously charge anything that serious. He also knew that her case, as presented by the prosecution, would feature the kind of motive and presumed callousness that persuaded juries to convict – murder for insurance money.
He wanted Hardy to have time to find "some other dudes." He wanted time to think, to plot, to devise. He wanted time for something else to happen, for Powell to be elected and a new prosecutor, without Powell's agenda, to be appointed.
"Mr. Freeman?" Thomasino reported. "Are you ready to proceed?"
Freeman had no choice. "We are, Your Honor."
Thomasino looked surprised and he was. He had never seen a capital case actually ready to be set for trial at the first setting date. "All right then." And the trial was calendared for Monday, August 13, in Department 25.
"It's you I'm trusting on this, you know, not him."
Before leaving the building after the hearing, Hardy had decided to go on up and share a few impressions with Jennifer. He also had a list of questions written on a legal pad in his briefcase. Now they sat, knee to knee, in the tiny interview room by the guard's station. Jennifer was expressing her displeasure with David Freeman.
"He's a slob and he doesn't believe anything about me – not even that they raped me down there."
Hardy pulled his chair back. He wasn't sure how their knees had gotten so close and he didn't want to be misinterpreted. "That's the thing about the pros in this law business, Jennifer, and it's why David's so good. It's not personal. If you getting raped would help your case in any way, he'd jump on it with both feet. But, unfortunately, it doesn't. I mean, it happened because you escaped."
"If I can get off I'm going to go back down there, find that guard and kill him. I swear to God."
Instinctively, Hardy looked up at the bare yellow walls, fairly secure in the knowledge that this room wasn't tapped. He hoped. Leaning forward, he unconsciously lowered his voice. "It would be a good idea to keep the death threats to a minimum for the next few months, okay?"
She smiled. "It's what you call a figure of speech."
"I know. But sometimes the sense of humor thing around here gets a little fuzzy."
"I'll watch it." Jennifer stared a minute through the glass to the empty guard station. "I like your wife."
Hardy nodded, somehow wishing this hadn't come up, knowing that it had to. Maybe, in fact, it was another reason why he'd felt the needed another visit, to reassure himself that the connection between Jennifer and Frannie was unimportant. "She said you had a nice talk."
Jennifer shrugged. "We did. It was. Just mostly girl stuff but I haven't talked to anybody like I was a normal person in so long…"
"I thought Dr. Lightner talked to you every day here."
He saw her processing his knowledge of that information. It wasn't clear what she made of it. "Well, sure… Ken."
"I mean, doesn't he talk to you like a normal person?"
Out of any context, she smiled. Hardy thought he'd like to videotape an interview with her and analyze when these random smiles appeared, but he was almost afraid of what he'd find. "Ken doesn't count," she said. "Besides, I don't think anybody's normal for him. Normal doesn't have any meaning. It's one of those psychological buzzwords."
Hardy had already heard enough jargon to know what she was saying, but she had left open an avenue for questions. "What about down in Costa Rica? Didn't you meet anybody down there?"
Her eyes shifted to him, then away. "No. I didn't think it would be a good idea."
"So what did you do?"
Again the empty guard station seemed to grab her attention. She spoke into the window. "The first few days I just stayed in the hotel. Then I went to the beach, I read a few books."
Hardy could probe this by asking her which ones but it wasn't his intention to interrogate her. Like her rape, anything that had happened to her in Costa Rica wasn't going to have much effect on what she'd done or didn't do last December.
"Did I tell you I'd seen your mother?" he said.
"You'd said you were going to. How was she?"
"She wasn't good, Jennifer. Your father had beat her up." He didn't think she needed to hear any details. The vision of her mother's battered body was still coming back to him.
Jennifer looked down at the table, a thumbnail to her mouth.
"I understand this thing – this beating – it passes down through generations in families," he said.