“I don’t know if it has ever been argued before.”
“Well, you certainly have the right to make the argument. Why don’t you send me a stipulation and I’ll forward it to the judge?”
“Fine.”
There was only one circuit judge in Cobb County, Gabriel Wentwell, and Clay had appeared before him enough times to know that the motion Tracey planned to file wasn’t going to fly anyplace but straight into the trash can. Judge Wentwell was a fine man in many ways: distinguished military career, church deacon, good family, and a good lawyer. His tenure as a judge had been marked with the same colorless consistency as the rest of his life. There were no surprises with Judge Wentwell-no politics, no favoritism. He was not the kind of man who was going to go out on a limb for some novel theory of law. He’d listen politely and he would pause appropriately to think about it, but ultimately he would just brush it aside in favor of the known, traditional rule of law.
Clay didn’t know-or care-what sort of evidence his opponent might present to try to make her point. His confidence was brimming again, and all he could think about was what a cakewalk this was turning out to be after all. But there were other things he didn’t know that might have given him more pause. He didn’t know that Ray Castro and Jose Guerrero had left town, because Wes had never told him. He also didn’t know that Pilar Rodriguez had come in for a lineup and failed to identify Rudy. As far as he knew, he had three witnesses ready and waiting.
Elena didn’t tell Rudy that she had lost her job and had to move out of the hotel. She thought it would upset him too much, but she underestimated her son. Rudy was doing well in the county jail sticking with his routine. He had made friends with the guards and some of the other prisoners, one of whom, Juan Morales, was a prison veteran. Juan, like Rudy, was Puerto Rican, a skinny little fast-talking, chain-smoking con man who had all the answers. He took Rudy under his wing and gave him some expert advice about how to handle himself if he ended up in the general prison population.
“In the beginning, you wanna act a little crazy. Most of ’em are afraid of kooks. All you wanna do is be left alone. I don’t wanna tell you this but you’re young and handsome, they’ll be on you like shit on flypaper.” Rudy tried to picture shit on flypaper but he couldn’t. He had no idea what Juan meant but Juan was on a roll. “You’re gonna be tested early. You can wait or you can make the first move.”
“The first move?”
“Yeah. You know, kick somebody’s ass. Pick a white guy. The blacks and Latinos will like that. Beat him good but not too bad. You don’t wanna create a vendetta or anything.”
“How do I start a fight with somebody I don’t know?”
“You catch his eye, then you say, ‘Are you lookin’ at me? Are you lookin’ at me?’ Say it louder the second time so everybody will hear you. The shower’s a perfect place because it gets the point across. Then you hit him and you don’t stop hittin’ him till he’s down. Pick a big guy. The biggest, toughest-lookin’ white guy you can find.”
Rudy certainly appreciated Juan taking the time to tutor him on prison life. One thing puzzled him, though: Juan was about five foot two and a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet and he didn’t know karate like Rudy did. How did he get by? Something inside told him not to ask the question.
So Rudy was doing just fine, but he could tell from his mother’s face during her most recent visits that something was wrong and it wasn’t what was happening to him. At first she had handled his situation with a fighter’s disposition and had actually been upbeat when Tracey took the case. Now she was sad all the time, her shoulders slumped. When he asked about the hotel and all the regulars, her answers were short and didn’t really tell him anything. Usually she loved talking about the colorful cast of characters who breathed life into the old place on a daily basis. Rudy’s first inclination was to ask a direct question, but once again something inside told him to let it go.
Seventeen
As soon as H.V. gave Tracey the word that he was ready, she filed her Motion to Suppress and set it for hearing on the judge’s calendar. She made sure she reserved enough time to present all her witnesses. The motion itself was nondescript, reciting only the basic theory that she had already related to Clay. She didn’t want to give him any more notice than she had to, afraid that he might wake up to what was coming. The Fourth should have caught on, however, when she set a simple motion for an all-day evidentiary hearing. Tracey was coming loaded for bear. It was up to Judge Wentwell to determine if she had brought the right ammunition.
The Fourth was desperately trying to stir up some publicity for the case at the early stages. He called a very good friend of his from one of the Miami television stations, but he couldn’t convince her that it was worthwhile to send a news team up for a motion hearing.
“Don’t worry, Clay, I’ll send somebody up for the trial,” Stacey Wilson assured him. “Better yet, I’ll come myself. I haven’t done a field assignment in a while. Do you think you can find a little time for me if I make the trip?”
“You bet, honey, especially if you come for this motion hearing.” Clay wasn’t giving up so easily.
“Clay honey, I can’t do it. Listen, I’ll call a friend of mine at our affiliate in Vero. Since it’s Tracey James, she’ll be interested. I’ll get her to send somebody over. You convince the judge to let her in the courtroom.”
“Will do. Thanks, Stacey. I’ll see you in a couple of months at the trial.” Clay knew there was no way Judge Wentwell was letting cameras into his courtroom. He had commented to Clay on many occasions that he would never let the media turn his courtroom into a circus. Clay wasn’t even going to make the request-might piss the old man off. But there was no need to tell Stacey that. All he wanted was to get a news crew to show up; he’d get the publicity he was after from interviews on the courthouse steps.
It took three weeks to get an all-day hearing set before Judge Wentwell. Tracey used the time to prepare. This motion was going to be a mini-trial. It had been three years since her last trial, a misdemeanor case that lasted half a day. She needed this hearing and she needed to win it, although she wasn’t quite sure why. The uncertainty bothered her. Confusion was not her forte. She always knew what she wanted and she made a plan to get it. Maybe it was Elena and that faded connection to her mother. Maybe it was Rudy himself, or perhaps her desire to be a lawyer for once rather than a businesswoman. She just didn’t know. All she knew was that something else was driving her this time besides the money, and it was driving her hard. She hoped the feeling didn’t last long.
There were no crowds outside the courthouse on the day of the hearing or inside the courtroom either. It wasn’t that nobody cared. The people of the barrio were behind Rudy one hundred percent, but they had to go to work. Kelly McDowell from the local affiliate in Vero Beach was standing on the courthouse steps with her camera crew wondering why in God’s name she had agreed to drive over from Vero for this. Tracey James was the only reason it was even remotely worthwhile. If she could get an interview with Tracey, maybe she could salvage something from the trip.
As for Tracey, Kelly McDowell was the last person she wanted to see. She never liked media attention when she faced the possibility of losing. But she knew she couldn’t duck Kelly so she planned on making the best of it.
Clay reached the courthouse before Tracey arrived. Kelly didn’t have to hunt him down for an interview. He practically grabbed the microphone from her. He was all smiles, tall and elegant in his charcoal gray suit-cocky and confident like a quarterback before the big game. Kelly smiled right along with him.
Not long after Clay went inside, Tracey arrived with Elena. Tracey’s gray suit over a light blue blouse was stunning and the picture of professionalism, but Elena actually outdid her in a conservative but tight-fitting navy blue dress she had purchased only the day before from the local thrift shop.