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A few minutes later Mrs. Gill came out carrying the court order I needed. I thought this meant I wasn’t going to get in to see the judge but Mrs. Gill told me I would be allowed back as soon as the judge finished up with her visitor.

It wasn’t enough time to continue my review of the files in my roller bag, so I wandered the courtroom, looking around and thinking about what I was going to say to the judge. At the empty bailiff’s desk, I looked down and scanned a calendar sheet from the week before. I knew the names of several of the attorneys who were listed and had been scheduled for emergency hearings and motions. One of them was Jerry Vincent on behalf of Walter Elliot. It had probably been one of Jerry’s last appearances in court.

After three minutes I heard a bell tone at the clerk’s station and Mrs. Gill said I was free to go back to the judge’s chambers.

When I knocked on the door it was Mitch Lester who opened it. He smiled and bid me entrance. We shook hands and he remarked that he had just heard about Jerry Vincent.

“It’s a scary world out there,” he said.

“It can be,” I said.

“If you need any help with anything, let me know.”

He left the office and I took his seat in front of the judge’s desk.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Haller? You got the order for the bank?”

“Yes, I got the order, Your Honor. Thank you for that. I wanted to update you a little bit and ask a question about something.”

She took off a pair of reading glasses and put them down on her blotter.

“Please go ahead, then.”

“Well, on the update. Things are going a bit slowly because we started without a calendar. Both Jerry Vincent’s laptop computer and his hard-copy calendar were stolen after he was killed. We had to build a new calendar after pulling the active files. We think we have that under control and, in fact, I just came from a sentencing in Judge Champagne’s in regard to one of the cases. So we haven’t missed anything.”

The judge seemed unimpressed by the efforts made by my staff and me.

“How many active cases are we talking about?” she asked.

“Uh, it looks like there are thirty-one active cases – well, thirty now that I handled that sentencing. That case is done.”

“Then, I would say you inherited quite a thriving practice. What is the problem?”

“I’m not sure there is a problem, Judge. So far I’ve had a conversation with only one of the active clients and it looks like I will be continuing as his lawyer.”

“Was that Walter Elliot?”

“Uh, no, I have not talked to him yet. I plan to try to do that later today. The person I talked to was involved in something a little less serious. A felony theft, actually.”

“Okay.”

She was growing impatient so I moved to the point of the meeting.

“What I wanted to ask about was the police. You were right this morning when you warned me about guarding against police intrusion. When I got over to the office after leaving here, I found a couple of detectives going through the files. Jerry’s receptionist was there but she hadn’t tried to stop them.”

The judge’s face grew hard.

“Well, I hope you did. Those officers should have known better than to start going through files willy-nilly.”

“Yes, Your Honor, they backed off once I got there and objected. In fact, I threatened to make a complaint to you. That’s when they backed off.”

She nodded, her face showing pride in the power the mention of her name had.

“Then, why are you here?”

“Well, I’m wondering now whether I should let them back in.”

“I don’t understand you, Mr. Haller. Let the police back in?”

“The detective in charge of the investigation made a good point. He said the evidence suggests that Jerry Vincent knew his killer and probably even allowed him to get close enough to, you know, shoot him. He said that makes it a good bet that it was one of his own clients. So they were going through the files looking for potential suspects when I walked in on them.”

The judge waved one of her hands in a gesture of dismissal.

“Of course they were. And they were trampling on those clients’ rights as they were doing it.”

“They were in the file room and were looking through old cases. Closed cases.”

“Doesn’t matter. Open or closed, it still constitutes a violation of the attorney-client privilege.”

“I understand that, Judge. But after they were gone, I saw they had left behind a stack of files on the table. These were the files they were either going to take or wanted to look more closely at. I looked them over and there were threats in those files.”

“Threats against Mr. Vincent?”

“Yes. They were cases in which his clients weren’t happy about the outcome, whether it was the verdict or the disposition or the terms of imprisonment. There were threats, and in each of the cases, he took the threats seriously enough to make a detailed record of exactly what was said and who said it. That was what the detectives were pulling together.”

The judge leaned back and clasped her hands, her elbows on the arms of her leather chair. She thought about the situation I had described and then brought her eyes to mine.

“You believe we are inhibiting the investigation by not allowing the police to do their job.”

I nodded.

“I was wondering if there was a way to sort of serve both sides,” I said. “Limit the harm to the clients but let the police follow the investigation wherever it goes.”

The judge considered this in silence again, then sighed.

“I wish my husband had stayed,” she finally said. “I value his opinion greatly.”

“Well, I had an idea.”

“Of course you did. What is it?”

“I was thinking that I could vet the files myself and draw up a list of the people who threatened Jerry. Then I could pass it on to Detective Bosch and give him some of the details of the threats as well. This way, he would have what he needs but he wouldn’t have the files themselves. He’s happy, I’m happy.”

“Bosch is the lead detective?”

“Yes, Harry Bosch. He’s with Robbery-Homicide. I can’t remember his partner’s name.”

“You have to understand, Mr. Haller, that even if you just give this man Bosch the names, you are still breaching client confidentiality. You could be disbarred for this.”

“Well, I was thinking about that and I believe there’s a way out. One of the mechanisms of relief from the client confidentiality bond is in the case of threat to safety. If Jerry Vincent knew a client was coming to kill him last night, he could have called the police and given that client’s name to them. There would’ve been no breach in that.”

“Yes, but what you are considering here is completely different.”

“It’s different, Judge, but not completely. I’ve been directly told by the lead detective on the case that it is highly likely that the identity of Jerry Vincent’s killer is contained in Jerry’s own files. Those files are now mine. So that information constitutes a threat to me. When I go out and start meeting these clients, I could shake hands with the killer and not even know it. You add that up any way and I feel I am in some jeopardy here, Judge, and that qualifies for relief.”

She nodded her head again and put her glasses back on. She reached over and picked up a glass of water that had been hidden from my view by her desktop computer.

After drinking deeply from the glass she spoke.