My mind was racing. Even with a defense based on the theory that the defendant was set up, there was a law of diminishing returns. Explaining away the blood drop on the shoe was one thing. Explaining away your client’s ownership of and connection to the murder weapon was not just a second thing. There was an exponential increase in the odds against setup as each piece of evidence is revealed. For the second time in three weeks the defense had been handed a devastating blow and I was left almost speechless. The judge turned to me. It was time to respond but I had no comeback that was worthy.
“This is very compelling evidence, Mr. Haller,” he prompted. “You have anything to say?”
I had nothing but I picked myself up off the mat before he reached the ten count.
“Your Honor, this so-called evidence that just sort of conveniently dropped from heaven should have been announced to the court and the defense the moment it was brought forward. Not three days later, not even a day later. If only to allow the defense to properly inspect the evidence, conduct its own tests and observe those of the prosecution. It was supposedly in the bushes undiscovered for what, three months at this point? And yet-voilà!-we have DNA to match to the victim. This whole thing stinks of a setup. And it’s too damn late, Your Honor. The train has left the station. We might have opening statements as early as tomorrow. The prosecution has had all week to think about how to drop the hammer into hers. What am I supposed to do at this point?”
“Were you planning to give your statement at the beginning or reserve until the defense phase?” the judge asked.
“I was planning on giving it tomorrow.” I lied. “I already have it written. But this is also information I could have used while picking the jurors we already have in the box. Judge, this whole thing-look, all I know is that five weeks ago the prosecution was desperate. Ms. Freeman came to my office to offer my client a deal. Whether she’ll admit it or not, she was running scared and she gave me everything I asked for. And then suddenly, we have the DNA on the shoe. Now, lo and behold, the hammer turns up and, of course, nobody’s talking about a disposition anymore. The coincidence of all of this puts it all to doubt. But the malfeasance in how it was handled should alone lead you to refuse to allow it into evidence.”
“Your Honor,” Freeman said as soon as I was finished. “May I respond to Mr. Haller’s allegation of mal-”
“No need to, Ms. Freeman. As I already said, this is compelling evidence. It comes in at an inopportune time but it is clearly evidence the jury should consider. I will allow it but I will also once again allow the defense extra time to prepare for it. We’re going to go back out there now and finish picking a jury. Then I am going to give them a long weekend and bring them back Monday for opening statements and the start of the trial. That gives you three extra days to prepare your opener, Mr. Haller. That should be enough time. Meanwhile, your staff, including that young go-getter you hired out of my alma mater, can work on assembling whatever experts and testing you’ll need on the hammer.”
I shook my head. It wasn’t good enough. I was going down fast here.
“Your Honor, I move that the trial be stayed while I take this matter up on appeal.”
“You can take it up on appeal, Mr. Haller. That’s your right. But it’s not going to stop the trial. We go on Monday.”
He gave me a little nod that I took as a threat. I take him up on appeal and he won’t forget it during trial.
“Do we have anything else to discuss?” Perry asked.
“I’m good,” Freeman said.
“Mr. Haller?”
I shook my head as my voice deserted me.
“Then let’s go out there and finish picking a jury.”
Lisa Trammel was pensively waiting for me at the defense table.
“What happened?” she asked in an urgent whisper.
“What happened was that we just got our asses handed to us again. This time it’s over.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean they found the fucking hammer you threw in the bushes after you killed Mitchell Bondurant.”
“That’s crazy. I-”
“No, you’re crazy. They can tie it directly to Bondurant and they can tie it to you. It’s right off your fucking workbench. I don’t know how you could’ve been so stupid but that’s beside the point. It actually makes keeping the bloody shoes seem like a smart choice in comparison. Now I have to figure out a way to get a deal out of Freeman when she has absolutely no need to make a deal. She’s got a slam-bang case so why cut a deal?”
Lisa reached over with one hand and grabbed the left side of my jacket collar. She pulled me closer. Now she whispered through clenched teeth.
“You listen to yourself. How could I have been so stupid? That’s the question and the answer is I wasn’t. You know if anything I’m not stupid. I’ve told you from day one, this is a setup. They wanted to get rid of me and this is what they did. But I didn’t do this. You’ve had it right all along. Louis Opparizio. He needed to get rid of Mitchell Bondurant and he used me as the fall guy. Bondurant sent him your letter. That started everything. I didn’t-”
She faltered as the tears started to flood her eyes. I put my hand over hers as if to calm her and detached it from my collar. I was aware that the jury was filing into the box and didn’t want them to see any attorney-client discord.
“I didn’t do this,” she said. “You hear me? I don’t want any deal. I won’t say I did something I didn’t do. If that’s your best shot then I want a new attorney.”
I looked away from her to the bench. Judge Perry was watching us.
“Ready to proceed, Mr. Haller?”
I looked at my client and then back at the judge.
“Yes, Your Honor. Ready to proceed.”
Twenty
It was like being in the losing locker room but we had yet to play the game. It was Sunday afternoon, eighteen hours before opening statements to the jury, and I huddled with my crew, already conceding defeat. It was the bitter end before the trial had even begun.
“I don’t understand,” Aronson said into the void of silence that had enveloped my office. “You said we needed a hypothesis of innocence. An alternate theory. We have that with Opparizio. We have it in spades. Where is the problem?”
I looked over at Cisco Wojciechowski. It was just the three of us. I was in shorts and a T-shirt. Cisco was in his riding clothes, an army-green tank top over black jeans. And Aronson was dressed for a day in court. She hadn’t gotten the memo about it being Sunday.
“The problem is, we’re not going to get Opparizio into the trial,” I said.
“He withdrew the motion to quash,” Aronson protested.
“That doesn’t matter. The trial is about the state’s evidence against Trammel. It’s not about who else might have committed the crime. Might’ves don’t count. I can put Opparizio on the stand as the expert on Trammel’s foreclosure and the foreclosure epidemic. But I’m not going to get near him as an alternate suspect. The judge won’t let me unless I can prove relevance. So we’ve come all this way and we still don’t have relevancy. We still don’t have that one thing that pulls Opparizio all the way in.”
Aronson was determined not to give up.
“The Fourteenth Amendment guarantees Trammel a ‘meaningful opportunity to present a complete defense.’ An alternate theory is part of a complete defense.”
So she could quote the Constitution. She was book smart but experience poor.
“California versus Hall, nineteen eighty-six. Look it up.”
I pointed to her laptop, which was open on the corner of my desk. She leaned over and started typing.
“Do you know the citation?”
“Try forty-one.”
She typed it in, got the ruling on her screen and started scanning. I looked over at Cisco, who had no idea what I was doing.