Ted said nothing.
Howe stood up. “Get out, both of you,” he ordered.
Ted and Jordan looked at him. “But what about preparing the testimony?” Ted asked.
“Get out,” Howe repeated. “I’ll see you in court tomorrow.”
It was nearly seven o’clock when the cab dropped them back at Ted’s house. Royce’s car was parked in the driveway. “Royce is here,” Ted told Jordan. “I’ve been wanting you to meet Flynn’s mom. You’ll like her.” He paid the driver and they walked into the house.
“Hello?” Ted called as they walked down the stairs to the living room. “Anybody home?”
“Daddy!” Flynn came running to greet him.
“Hi, Ted,” Royce called.
“Hi, Ted.” It was Julia, from the living room.
“Uh-oh,” Ted murmured. Jordan, ahead of him on the stairs, turned and looked up at him quizzically.
“Hi, Jordan,” Flynn said politely as she pushed past her to get to Ted. She threw her arms around her father’s waist and buried her face in his chest. “Hi, Daddy,” she said. Her voice sounded thick.
“Hi, baby,” Ted said. He wrapped his arms around her reassuringly.
“Hey, Flynn, my turn,” Julia said. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs, smiling up at him with tears in her eyes. Jordan smiled awkwardly and stopped on the staircase midway between Ted and Julia.
Julia, tired of waiting, skipped up the stairs past Jordan to wrap her arms around both Flynn and Ted. “I didn’t see your car outside,” Ted said.
“It’s in the garage,” Julia answered.
“Oh,” Ted said. He found that very irritating.
“I’m so worried,” Julia said. “It didn’t seem to go very well today.” Ted felt Flynn trembling.
“Everything will be fine,” Ted insisted. He hugged Flynn tighter. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I love you so much,” Julia said. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.” Ted closed his eyes. It helped a little, though he could still see the image of Jordan’s stunned face through his closed eyelids. He heard her footsteps going down the stairs and opened his eyes again. “Jordan,” he called. “Wait. Let me introduce you to everybody.”
“That would be nice,” Jordan said coolly.
“Why don’t we all go into the living room,” Ted suggested. He grasped Flynn’s hand for protection. Julia reached for his other hand and held onto it with more force than necessary. They walked awkwardly down the narrow staircase.
Royce was sitting on the couch in the living room, wearing a sexy summer halter top and a floor-length skirt with a deep slit in front. She was leaning back, her legs crossed, and she appeared to be enjoying the unexpected show immensely.
“Jordan, this is Royce Eliot-Lee,” Ted said.
“Nice to meet you,” Royce said with a smile.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Jordan smiled back.
Ted winced inwardly. “And this is Julia Thomsen,” he said. “You’ve heard me talk about her.”
“All the time,” Jordan said sweetly.
“I’m so glad to hear that,” Julia said, still grasping Ted’s hand. “The way the papers are always talking about the two of you, even I started to wonder.”
“Well, you have nothing to worry about,” Jordan said. “Anyone could see that you two are in love.”
Ted closed his eyes again. “Anyone want something to drink?” he asked.
“I was just going to make some iced tea when I heard you come in,” Julia said. “I’ll go and do it now.” She headed up the stairs to the kitchen.
“So that’s the ex-girlfriend,” Jordan murmured. “When were you intending to tell her?”
“Look, it’s Dobson Howe,” Royce said, pointing at the TV.
Howe was on the news, talking about the need to repeal the 37th Amendment. Then the screen was filled with the latest poll numbers. For the first time, more than fifty percent of Americans nationwide were in favor of repeal.
“It’s your legs,” Ted told Jordan. “Nobody wants to see them locked up.”
“Always happy to help out,” Jordan said. Her voice was chilly.
Ted took Jordan’s hand and led her to an extra-wide armchair where they could both sit down. “I was going to tell her after the trial,” he said.
Royce cleared her throat. Julia was standing at the foot of the stairs, watching them.
“Tell me what?” Julia said.
Ted jumped to his feet.
Julia had tears in her eyes. “It’s all true, isn’t it?” she asked. “You two are secretly engaged.”
“No!” Ted and Jordan said together. Ted looked over at Jordan, a little surprised by her vehemence.
Julia was holding a pitcher of iced tea. “Flynn?” she asked. “Would you take this please? I just remembered I have an appointment.” Flynn got up from the floor in front of the TV and took the pitcher from her. “Thank you,” Julia said, her voice barely a squeak. Then she turned and raced up the two flights of stairs to the front door. They all heard it slam.
Ted’s glance went from the staircase to Jordan and back to the staircase again. “Julia, wait,” he called, racing up the stairs after her. The door slammed again.
An awkward silence filled the living room.
“Well, I guess I’d better call a cab,” Jordan said. “Early day tomorrow.”
“You may call your first witness, Mr. Howe.”
“Thank you, your honor. The defense calls Ms. Jordan Rainsborough.”
Jordan stood up at the defense table. With a nervous look at Ted, who tried to smile encouragingly, she walked to the witness stand.
“Do you swear that the testimony you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God?” asked the clerk.
“I do,” Jordan said. Dobson Howe stepped to the lectern.
“Ms. Rainsborough,” he said, “Why did you give a copy of Michael Dency’s medical report to Christina Ferragamo?”
Jordan sat rigidly. “Because I believed the police had tortured Mr. Dency in order to obtain a confession from him,” she answered.
“And did you distribute confidential documents on other cases?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
Jordan looked at her lawyer. “Because you asked me to leak them to you,” she said.
The judge dropped her pen.
“No further questions at this time,” said Howe. “Reserve the right to recall this witness.”
“I think we’ll take a short recess,” said the judge. “I’ll see counsel in my chambers.”
“I don’t care
who
you are,” Judge Bernard said in a steely voice, “You are not going to use my courtroom for media stunts to promote your own political agenda.”
“Your honor, that is not the case. You have my word.” Dobson Howe’s deep voice could not conceal a note of alarm.
“Did I just hear your client say that you recruited her into a criminal conspiracy to distribute confidential records?” the judge demanded.
Howe didn’t answer.
“Mr. Howe, have you concealed material facts from this court?”
Howe was silent.
The judge glared at him. “You might want to think about getting a lawyer yourself,” she said. “I expect that I will be referring this matter to the State Bar’s Committee on Professional Responsibility.” She spun on her heel and stormed over to her desk, her black robe flying behind her. “It would appear that an attempt has been made to commit a fraud on this court for the purpose of staging political theater,” she said, her voice snapping with anger. “Does anyone here know of a reason that I shouldn’t declare a mistrial in this case?” No one answered her. The judge picked up a pen. “Everybody out,” she said.
Friday, August 11, 2056
Ronni Richards sat in a chair opposite the mayor’s desk with a two-inch-thick file folder resting on her lap. “This is the summary,” she said, handing the mayor a single sheet of paper.
Mayor Martinez placed the paper on the desk in front of her and stared down at it for a full minute. “What am I going to do?” she asked quietly.
Ronni Richards paused until she was sure the question was directed at her. When the mayor looked up, Ronni shrugged slightly. “You’ll have to reverse your position,” she said. “You’ll have to come out against re-trying Ted Braden and Jordan Rainsborough.”
“Law-and-Order Mayor Flip-Flops,” the mayor said, moving her hand across the headline of an imaginary newspaper.
“Mayor Martinez Has A Heart,” Ronni suggested.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” the mayor said glumly.
“Mayor Calls for Justice—Vows to Clean House,” Ronni tried.
“Better,” said the mayor.
“There’s really no choice here, Mayor.” Ronni opened the file folder and leafed through the pages. “Sixty-eight percent of likely voters think Ted Braden and Jordan Rainsborough were right to expose wrongful convictions, even if it meant breaking the law. That’s nationally. In California, it’s seventy-one percent.”
The mayor looked down at the sheet of paper in front of her. “Ted Braden’s approval rating is seventy-eight percent,” the mayor said. “Jordan Rainsborough’s approval rating, eighty-three percent. Eighty-three percent! Maybe I should cut
my
hair.”
“Only twelve percent of Californians think there should be a re-trial,” Ronni noted. “You’ve simply got to get this behind you. You have to support dropping the charges.”
The door of the office swung open and District Attorney Thomas J. Huron walked in. “There’s no way I’m going to re-try Jordan Rainsborough and Ted Braden,” he said firmly. “No way.”
“So I see,” the mayor answered.
“I know we have the evidence to put them away for life. But I’m not sacrificing my career to do it. No re-trial. No way.”
“Sit down, Tom. No one wants a re-trial. Show him the poll numbers, Ronni.”
Ronni Richards picked up the one-page summary from the mayor’s desk and handed it to the D.A. The index finger of his right hand traced down the margin of the page as he read. “Fifty-seven percent of California voters favor repeal of the 37th Amendment,” he said in wonder. “Where did that come from?”
“Is that registered voters?” the mayor asked, “Or likely voters?”
“Likely voters,” Huron said.
“What do you think?” the mayor asked. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe it’s a good idea to repeal the 37th Amendment.”
“No,” Huron said. “The restrictions that would put on law enforcement, the way it would hamstring prosecutors, you’d probably never be able to convict anybody of anything ever again. It’s insane to even think about bringing back due process.”
“I’m going to support it,” the mayor said.
“You’re going to support repeal?” Huron said incredulously. “You’re coming out for repeal?”
“Why not?” the mayor answered in a shrill voice. “Why do I have to be against something that fifty-seven percent of likely California voters are in favor of? What have I done to deserve that?”
“Taylor,” Huron said calmly, “I owe you my political career. But if you come out for repealing the 37th Amendment, I can’t support you.”
“If you don’t support me,” the mayor said, “you may find that your fund-raising operation is forced to rely on bake sales.”
Huron frowned. “Think it through, Taylor,” he said. “If the crime rates go back to what they were, it’s going to destroy the tax base of the city. Businesses are going to leave, property is going to fall in value. You won’t have the money for transportation projects, for police, for anything.”
“That’s years away,” the mayor said, waving her hand. “It will be somebody else’s problem by then.” She looked over at Ronni Richards, her eyes gleaming. “Call the Sunday talk shows,” she instructed. “Tell them we’re planning a major announcement and I’ll be available for interviews.”
C
HAPTER
14
T
ed Braden parked his four-door 1200GX as close as he could to the glass entrance of Devoy’s Market. He missed his Corvette, not that he would ever drive it to the supermarket and leave it defenseless against a wind-blown army of steel carts on wheels.
It didn’t take five seconds for someone to recognize him.
“You’re Ted Braden!” a woman said as the supermarket doors slid open in front of him. She nearly pushed her cart into his chest in her excitement. “Is Jordan here too?”
“No, she’s not. Nice to see you,” Ted said hurriedly. He grabbed a plastic shopping basket and rushed past the woman into the store.
“Hey, Ted Braden!” a man shouted from one of the check-out lines. Suddenly Ted was surrounded by people, some pushing supermarket receipts at him to autograph. “Where’s Jordan?” one voice asked. “Is Jordan here?”
Ted politely fended off the growing crowd and worked his way back toward the electric doors. “Gotta run,” he said. “Nice to see everybody.” He waved and backed out of the store as fast as he could. As the doors closed behind him, he heard the crowd break into applause.
Ted’s wireless rang as he was getting back into the car. “Hello?” he answered.
“Hi.”
“Jordan!” Ted said. “I have regards for you from sixty people at the supermarket.”
“It’s insane, isn’t it? You can’t imagine the scene I caused at the dry cleaners yesterday. Some guy offered me a thousand dollars for my dirty clothes.”