The judge looked at Berg.
“I know we have a discovery motion in Mr. Haller’s stack,” Warfield said, “but where are we on those items just mentioned? The video from the officer and the car. Those should have been turned over by now.”
“Judge,” Berg said. “We had technical issues with the transfer of—”
“Your Honor,” I roared, “they can’t be pulling this technical difficulty excuse! I was arrested five weeks ago today. My freedom is on the line here, and for them to say technical issues have delayed my due process rights is patently unfair. They are trying to keep me from getting to Milton. Plain and simple. They did it when they went to a grand jury instead of a prelim and they are doing it again here. I have not waived my right to a speedy trial and the prosecution is doing anything and everything it can to push me toward a delay.”
“Ms. Berg?” Warfield said. “Response to that?”
“Judge,” Berg said. “If the defendant would stop interrupting me before I even finish a sentence, he would have heard that we had — that’s past tense — technical difficulties, but they were cleared up and I have the videos from the officer’s car and body cam to give to the defendant today. Additionally, the state objects to any suggestion that it is dragging its feet or pressuring the defendant in any way to delay this case. We are ready to go, Your Honor. We are not interested in a delay.”
“Very well,” Warfield said. “Turn the videos over to the defense and we will—”
“Your Honor, point of order,” I said.
“What is it, Mr. Haller?” the judge said. “I’m losing my patience.”
“Counsel just referred to me as the defendant,” I said. “Yes, I am the accused in this case, but when I am arguing before the court, I am counsel for the defense and I request that the court direct Ms. Berg to refer to me properly.”
“You are talking about semantics, Mr. Haller,” Warfield said. “The court sees no need for such direction to the prosecution. You are the defendant. You are also the defense counsel. Same difference in this case.”
“Members of a jury might see the difference, Your Honor,” I said.
Warfield once again held her hand up like a traffic cop before Berg could voice an objection.
“No argument from the People is needed,” she said. “The defense request is denied. We are going to continue this motion to Thursday morning. Ms. Berg, I will expect you to have Officer Milton here to be questioned about the traffic stop of Mr. Haller. I will be happy to sign a subpoena to that effect if needed. But rest assured that if he does not appear, I’ll be inclined to grant the motion. Is that understood, Ms. Berg?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Berg said.
“Very well, let’s move on to the next motion,” Warfield said. “I have to leave the courthouse at eleven for an outside meeting. Let’s press on.”
“Your Honor, my co-counsel, Jennifer Aronson, will discuss the motion to compel discovery.”
Jennifer got up and approached the lectern. I went back to the defense table and we lightly touched arms as we passed each other.
“Go get ’em,” I whispered.
6
The perks I received as a pro se inmate extended to the detention center, where I was afforded space and time for daily meetings with my legal team. I set these meetings Monday through Friday at 3 p.m. whether or not there were issues or strategy to discuss. I needed the connection to the outside, if only for the mental health maintenance.
The meetings were a hardship for Cisco and Jennifer because they and their belongings were searched coming in and going out, and the rule was that the team had to be in place in the attorney-client room before I was even pulled from the module where I was housed. Everything in the jail moved at an indifferent pace set by the deputies running the show. The last thing afforded an inmate, even a pro se, was punctuality. It was the same reason my wake-ups were at 4 a.m. for a hearing six hours later and only four blocks away. These delays and harassments meant that they usually had to present themselves at the jail’s attorneys’ entrance at 2 p.m. so that I might see them for an hour beginning at 3 p.m.
The meeting that followed the court hearing was more important than a mental health hour. Judge Warfield had signed an order allowing Jennifer Aronson to bring a disc player into the jail for the legal-team conference so that I could view the videos that had finally been turned over by the prosecution.
I was late to the meeting because it had taken nearly four hours to bus me back from the courthouse to the jail. By the time they put me in the lawyer room, Jennifer and Cisco had been waiting nearly an hour.
“Sorry, guys,” I said as I was ushered in by a deputy. “I don’t control things around here.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” said Cisco.
It was the same setup as with the attorney room in the courthouse. They sat across from me. There was a camera that supposedly had no audio feed. The difference here was that I was allowed to use a pen when I was in the room to keep notes or handwrite motions to the court. I was not allowed to take a pen back to my cell because it could be used as a weapon, a pipe, or a source for tattoo ink. In fact, I was allowed a red-ink pen only, because it was considered an undesirable tattoo color should I somehow smuggle it back to my pod.
“Have you looked at the videos yet?” I asked.
“Only about ten times while we were waiting,” Cisco said.
“And?”
I looked at Jennifer with the question. She was the lawyer.
“Your recall of what was said and done was excellent,” she said.
“Good,” I said. “Can you stand to watch it again? I want to take notes for the Q and A with Officer Milton.”
“Do you think that’s the best way to go?” Jennifer asked.
I looked at her.
“You mean me asking the guy who arrested me the questions?”
“Yes. Might look vindictive to the jury.”
I nodded.
“It could. But there won’t be a jury.”
“There will probably be reporters. It will get out to the pool.”
“Okay, I’m still going to write questions, and we’ll make it a game-time decision. You should write up what you would ask and we’ll compare tomorrow or Wednesday.”
I was not allowed to touch the computer. Cisco turned the screen toward me. He played the video from Milton’s body cam first. The camera was attached to his uniform at chest height. The footage began with a view of the steering wheel of his car and quickly moved to him exiting the car and moving up the shoulder of the road toward a car I recognized as my Lincoln.
“Stop it,” I said. “This is bullshit.”
Cisco hit the stop button.
“What is bullshit?” Jennifer asked.
“The video,” I said. “Berg knows what I want and she’s fucking with us even though she made the grand gesture of compliance in court today. I want you to go back to the judge tomorrow with a motion requesting the full video. I want to see where this guy was and what he was doing before I supposedly happened to cross his path. Tell the judge we want to go back half an hour minimum on the body cam. And we want the full video before we go in for the hearing Thursday.”
“Got it.”
“Okay, go ahead with what they gave us.”
Cisco hit the play button again and I watched. There was a time code in the corner of the screen and I immediately started writing down times and notes to go with them. The traffic stop and what happened afterward was pretty much how I remembered it. I saw several places where I thought I could score points questioning Milton, and a few others where I thought I might be able to lead him into a lie trap.