It Should Be a Crime (21 page)

Parker stood transfixed as Kelsey left the room.
Infatuated, my ass,
she thought. Surely Kelsey was reading more into recent events than she should. After all, last night had been nothing more than a drink-induced truthfest with nothing loverlike about it. All she remembered was baring her soul, drinking most of a bottle of good Scotch, and waking up with Morgan at her side. She had for a moment wondered if more had happened, but seeing Morgan fully dressed next to her on the sofa put to rest any questions she might have had.

She turned Kelsey’s words over and over in her mind, searching for truth. After a few minutes’ consideration, she opted to ignore the bulk of Kelsey’s advice. She spent the next hour furiously banging on her laptop keyboard, then she printed her work, proofed it, and made her way downstairs to feign an appetite.

Morgan, Dex, and Luis were seated at the defense counsel’s table, waiting for the judge to take the bench. Morgan leaned over to her client and gave him an idea of what to expect from the hearing they were about to have. She told him they would be discussing various procedural issues, including the expected length of the trial and any issues that needed a ruling in advance from the court. Morgan told him the judge might decide to hear testimony about the motion to suppress she had filed the day before.

Luis was dressed in a jail-issue black and white striped jumpsuit and faux Crocs. Morgan noticed his sister was in the gallery and she leaned over to ask Dex to remind her that Luis would need street clothes for the actual trial. Satisfied that detail was addressed, Morgan focused on the brief Dex and Parker had prepared on the suppression issue. They had done a fantastic job, but the decision could go either way. The judge was likely to focus on whether Luis had constructively waived his rights by continuing to answer questions after his rights were read to him. A lot would hinge on the testimony of Skye Keaton, who was waiting with the prosecutor. If the judge decided to take up the motion, Skye would be the State’s star witness.

Morgan wanted to claw the woman’s eyes out. Everything about her, from the cocky comfort of her reclining pose to the smirk playing along the edge of her lips, fueled the fire of Morgan’s rage.
Channel it,
she told herself.
Use her cockiness. Let her hang herself with pride.
Morgan took a deep breath and forced the strength of calm to take over. This wasn’t the time or place to bring up Skye Keaton’s internal affairs record. With no jury in the box, the shock value would be minimal, and it was likely the judge already knew about her record. After all, she had probably testified in this court on numerous other occasions since her reprimand and the damage to her credibility was old news to the man on the bench. Morgan forced herself to wait, knowing she would get much more play from the shock value of Keaton’s disciplinary record in front of a jury. Resisting protective, personal feelings urging her to tear this witness apart here and now, Morgan focused on the legal grounds of her argument.

She was still torn about whether or not to fight this battle. She had watched the tape at least a dozen times and its contents never changed. Truth be told, she was fighting this battle because it was expected and she didn’t want to show her hand to the prosecutor, who was trained to expect the expected. Morgan reflected if she were prosecuting this case, she would be tempted to forego admitting the defendant’s statement into evidence—a move designed to force him to take the stand and give his side of the story. As she turned the thought over in her mind, she shot a look across the room, sizing up her competition.

Valerie Gibson was young, trim, and blond. She looked like so many of her fellow female prosecutors, Morgan had given up trying to identify her in the hallways of the courthouse. Probably a graduate of a local school with good, but not great grades, she was either zealously committed to the idea of putting away bad guys or viewed this job as a stepping stone to private practice. In any event, her age meant she had little real-life experience and though she had probably prosecuted dozens of DWIs and petty thefts, it was unlikely she had tried many violent crimes, especially not murder. Remembering her first big case, Morgan speculated Valerie was either excited beyond belief or scared out of her mind at the prospect of trying this high-profile case.

Morgan found it interesting that after all Lester and Teddy Burke’s comments to the media about the death of their dear Camille, the district attorney had not found it necessary to assign this important trial to one of their more seasoned prosecutors. Though the elected DA rarely tried cases himself, he would normally assign a sensitive case like this to one of the several super chiefs who oversaw the prosecutors in the trenches. Morgan scratched a note on a Post-it to remind her to ask Ford some pointed questions. He was in tune with courthouse gossip and if he didn’t know the answer, he could usually be counted on to have a source.

Moments later Judge Thompson doddered through the door behind the bench and arranged himself in his seat.

“Counsel, are you ready to proceed?”

Gibson half stood. “The State is ready, your honor.”

Morgan, Dex, and Luis rose as one and Morgan announced, “Morgan Bradley and Dex Gallagher for Mr. Chavez. We’re ready as well.”

Judge Thompson leaned across the bench and pulled his glasses down. “Why, Morgan Bradley, I haven’t seen you in years. I’m told you’re teaching at the university.”

Morgan nodded. She was used to be recognized and remembered. “Yes, Your Honor, I am. Mr. Gallagher is one of my students. He, along with a few others, will be working with Mr. Rupley and myself on this case.”

“What a nice surprise. Well, you be sure and tell your father hello for me. I haven’t seen him in a while. I suppose he’s making the most of his retirement.” Morgan smiled as she realized it was her father, the retired judge, who was being remembered, not her.

Judge Thompson’s tone became more formal as he discussed the preliminary issues to be resolved. Both sides agreed the trial would likely take a week and the judge set the trial date for two weeks out. Then he addressed the prosecutor. “Ms. Gibson, do you have your witnesses ready for the motion to suppress?” When she responded in the affirmative, he instructed her to proceed. Even though Morgan had filed the motion, the burden of proof was on the prosecution to show that Luis’s constitutional rights had not been violated by the way his statement was obtained. The remedy, if his rights were violated, was to throw out that piece of evidence.

Gibson called Skye to the stand and asked her a rote series of questions about how Luis came to be in custody and the procedural steps she took before she started questioning him. As she watched her adversary questioning Detective Keaton, Morgan realized how excited she was to be back in the courtroom. The hum of anticipation vibrated to a steady pitch as she waited impatiently for Gibson to finish laying a foundation for the video. Yes, teaching was gratifying, but the well of the courtroom was where she belonged, using the skills she merely simulated in the classroom.

“Judge, I have the video cued up if you’d like to watch it now.”

Judge Thompson inclined his head toward the defense table, offering Morgan the opportunity to object. She stood.

“Judge, we have no objection to you watching the tape at this time. In chambers.” She didn’t want the gawking public to see a tape she was trying to suppress.

The prosecutor started to voice her own objection, but her trial partner grabbed her by the arm and whispered a word of advice. Half standing, she called out to the bench. “The state has no objection to a recess to allow the court time to view the tape.”

Morgan stood again. “I’m sure Ms. Gibson would like the court to have the benefit of all the information at its disposal, so I want to make sure the tape is cued to the very beginning—from the moment Mr. Chavez is placed in the interrogation room.” Instinctually, she knew the prosecutor would have started the tape, for the judge’s viewing, where the actual questioning began, ignoring the full thirty minutes where Luis sat gulping down food and otherwise looking furtive.

“Ms. Gibson, how long is this tape?” The judge’s tone conveyed his feelings about how long he thought it should be.

The young prosecutor equivocated. “Judge, I’m not entirely sure of the length. I imagine it’s under an hour.”

Morgan interjected in a helpful tone. “Actually, Judge, the tape is ninety-eight minutes.” She knew the information would be like a burr under a saddle. Ford had told her Judge Thompson was not a patient man. He preferred counsel resolve issues among themselves so he would not have to engage in any pesky legal analysis. Rarely did cases come back on appeal when the lawyers had worked out all the issues by themselves. No way was he going to be happy about having to watch a movie-length tape laced with legal pitfalls and then have to render a judgment about its admissibility. Hell, at his age he might not even be able to stay awake that long. She could hear the whirring sound of the prosecutor unraveling in the silence. Glancing over, she could see Valerie Gibson engaged in a barely whispered exchange with her trial partner. Morgan waited.

“Your honor, may we approach?”

The judge looked around, his tiny allotment of patience tapped out. “Ms. Gibson, there’s no jury present. What is it you want?”

“Sorry, Judge. I was hoping we might have a short moment to confer with opposing counsel.”

“If it will save the Court valuable time,” he delivered a pointed look, “you may have ten minutes. Detective, you may step down.”

Skye stood and started to walk through the well of the courtroom. She stood before the rail, ostensibly to wait for further instruction from Gibson, but her eyes searched the gallery. Morgan knew without looking in the direction of Skye’s gaze she was searching for Parker. Preparation for this hearing meant Morgan hadn’t had an opportunity to share more than meaningful glances with Parker since their night of mutual disclosure. Though Parker hadn’t included personal details about Skye in the tale of her separation from the force, Morgan was certain Skye’s betrayal extended beyond a dispute between fellow officers. She had no doubt these women had been lovers. The sparks their encounters ignited were searing and deeply personal. And Parker’s expression when she spoke of Skye contained more hurt than would be left by a professional betrayal alone. Masking her own mixed feelings of jealousy and anger, she forced her features into a relaxed expression and leaned back in her chair, waiting for the prosecutor to approach.

“Can we talk?”

Morgan smiled widely at the young woman. “Of course. Have a seat.”

“In my office.”

Morgan pointed at Mr. Chavez sitting next to her. “I’m pretty sure whatever you have to say is going to impact my client. Don’t you think he should hear it for himself?” She was deliberately goading the prosecutor. Strategy discussions were rarely held in the presence of the person to whom they mattered most. Morgan did a better job than most making her clients feel they were part of the process. After all, it was their freedom at stake. But once formal proceedings began, she was like most lawyers, needing space from the raw emotion of the accused in order to make the razor-sharp tactical decisions required to defend them. She waited a beat and then shrugged. “Fine, I’ll hear what you have to say. Mr. Chavez, I’ll be right back.” She stood, motioning to the bailiff, who came over to take Mr. Chavez back into the holdover.

Seated in the DA workroom, Morgan crossed her legs and waited.

“You realize you don’t have good grounds to suppress this tape, don’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Judge Thompson might not be too happy when he sees how long your detective kept my client caged without explaining his rights, waiting for an opportunity to explain himself. How she conveniently left off the waiver portion of the the Miranda warning and clearly ignored his invocation of his right to counsel. Then there’s the matter of how many times your detective feels the need to mention his prior record on the tape.”

“If we redact those portions, will you withdraw your motion to suppress the tape?”

Morgan forced herself to sound reluctant. “I’ll agree to hold off on my motion. But I reserve the right to submit any issues about its admissibility to the jury, and I want them to see the tape from the beginning. You know, the part you didn’t think was important enough for this judge. Furthermore, I want you to agree to instruct your witnesses not to mention Mr. Chavez’s record in open court and to approach the bench for a ruling before you ask any questions about his record. Do we have a deal?” Morgan stuck out her hand.

The prosecutor shook her hand and told her trial partner to let the judge know they wouldn’t need to finish the hearing. Morgan was certain she felt like she had won this round.
You keep thinking that way, sweetie. You just got snookered.
Morgan focused on maintaining a neutral expression, hiding her relief that Luis would not need to take the stand to tell his side of the story. The tape would do the trick, and now that the prosecutor thought Morgan didn’t really want the tape in evidence, there was no doubt she would play it for the jury.

*

Parker was itching to know what Morgan and the prosecutor were talking about, almost as much as she was itching to talk to Morgan about their conversation at Morgan’s hotel. Scotch hadn’t dimmed her memory and she had a clear remembrance of the level of personal detail she had shared. She had cursed herself repeatedly for taking off that morning while Morgan was still asleep. Her hasty exit, and the fact they had been too occupied with work on the case to talk about it since, left her feeling frazzled. Dex’s revelation about Gerald’s crazy suspicions and Kelsey’s diagnosis of her feelings were also weighing on her mind. Parker wanted to tie up the loose ends and she needed to find a few moments alone with Morgan to make that happen.