The four hundred block of 13th Street was filled to the brim with people as AUSA Barnswell made his way up it. He weaved in and out of the crowds of people and wanted to have many of them arrested for texting while walking. The act was not a crime, but he could sure as hell prompt legislation to make it one. Between that and loud absurd talking about nothing, he hated the invention of the cellular phone. Given the shitty morning he had after receiving the motion to change plea, he could go on a mass arresting spree and think nothing of prosecuting people and sending them away for many years for such a small thing.
He approached Cafe Lift and looked inside before going in. He searched for his lunch date and found that he had not arrived. Barnswell was five minutes early and was never tardy to the party, especially when his ass was on the line. If he had lost this case to two snotty-ass black kids, he would be stripped of his position within the Department of Justice (DOJ), and that was not going to happen. He ran his hand across an ugly half-inch scar on his face that was rumored to have come from a former trial defendant who had jumped off the witness stand and dug into Barnwell’s face with a small shaving razor. The inmate had hidden the razor in his ass wrapped in tissue and plastic to get it over to the courthouse from the FDC. That single act was responsible for the invention of new metal detector chairs that inmates had to sit in after being stripped searched before heading to the courthouse. The chair was reminiscent of the electric chair and checked an inmate’s ass for metal. But that did not deter them. Another inmate swallowed a razor and attacked his defense attorney during the cross-examination of the man’s baby mother. It was a mess.
Barnswell entered the restaurant and had a seat in the back. It was a sinister setting despite the up tempo beat of the cafe. He settled into his seat and asked for a pot of coffee. He then went into his briefcase and re-read the defense motion. He became pissed all over again after reading two pages. The waiter placed the coffee pot and a coffee mug on Barnswell table and filled the cup.
“Thanks,” Barnswell said and pulled out his DOJ badge. “I am an assistant US attorney, and I am about to have a meeting with a defense attorney. Could you see that we are not disturbed?” Barnswell was a tall man with a face that remained evil. He had a brown mole between his eyebrows that was equally as scary as the scar, and he used his badge for an added dose of fear. “Oh, here’s my friend now,” Barnswell said and then asked Greenburg if he wanted coffee.
“No, I won’t be here long. In fact, I left the taxi idling.”
“Oh, in that case let’s get right to it. What’s this, pal?” Barnswell said and tossed the defense motion across the table.
“You’re the answer to that, Barnie.”
“Barnie, my ass Greenburg. What the hell is up with this? Two days before trial. You know I am going to request a continuance.”
“And, I have my motion to oppose that ready to go. You’re a United States prosecutor with a reservoir overflowing with legal assistants to have you prepared for this.”
“This is a blind side,” Barnswell said. “Since when is the man insane?”
“The agent made him that way. He was coerced by a federal agent that not only forced him to commit crime, but had him fearful that he would face the same fate as his father. It’s very ironic that you were the assistant on the case that landed his father in jail.”
“There’s nothing ironic there. And before you came on board, Lemmelle made a motion to have me removed from the case for conflict of issues purposes, but that motion was denied. But tell me, why didn’t your guy go to the police if he was being forced to commit a crime?”
Greenburg shook his head and smiled. “You have over 27 years with the prosecutor’s office. Do you expect a person to go to the police when they are being forced to commit a crime by an officer?”
Larry Greenburg graduated cum laude from the University of Maryland, College Park in 1978 with a major in Political Science. Three years later, he again graduated cum laude with a J.D. from the Temple University School of Law. He published a work titled, “Pennsylvania Evidence: Objections & Responses” in 1983, and served as an adjunct professor at the Temple University School of Law from 1996-2003. He heads his own 100% criminal defense firm located on the trendy Walnut Street in Philadelphia, and specifically goes to war in federal court. He specializes in drug, gun and identity theft crimes and had bar admissions in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware, the U.S. Court of Appeals 3rd Circuit and U.S. Supreme Court. He had the credentials and the connections, and if Assistant United States Attorney Barnswell wanted to give it a go, he was ready!
Barnswell sipped a shot of black coffee and then said, “This is a very novel argument, one highly unlikely of winning. But if you insist, I assure you that I am prepared to send Andre Bezel to the electric chair.”
“News flash: he isn’t facing any charges that will get him there.”
Barnswell stood and then said, “Is that so? Well, you’d think he had some by the time I‘m done frying him.” He drank up his cup of joe, tossed a $5 bill on the table, and then said, “Good day,” before walking away.
* * *
“Um. waitress could you bring me an extra mug. I think I will have a shot of coffee,” Greenburg said as he stood. “I have to go pay the taxi, but I’ll be back inside.”
Greenburg walked out to the taxi and handed him a twenty dollar bill. He pulled out his cell phone and called Defense Attorney Ravonne Lemmelle.
“So glad you called,” Lemmelle said and then asked, “You’re sure you have this all figured out?.”
Greenburg smiled. “You have a very quick wit, young man. I’m assuming that you’ve got your copy of the motion this morning. Is it genius or what?”
“I did and it’s near genius. There is a case out of the 11th District that was just ruled on last Friday, which you obviously missed. And that is because this motion has been ready to go for some time.” Lemmelle was a very prolific and ambitious attorney. He never asked questions that he did not know the answers to. He was fully aware of what the Bezel Brothers had up their sleeves, as he orchestrated it. The brothers were Lemmelle’s first cousins and he was out to keep them from behind bars. Lemmelle was the very sardonic son of the Pennsylvania Governor with a 100% approval rating.
“Perhaps you’re right. I am going dark for two days. I assume we will meet in the courtroom for a pre-trial hearing on the matter tomorrow. I’ll need you there because you’re familiar with some of the facts and we may need you to speak on them.”
“I can do that.”
“Perfect, friend,” Greenburg said, smiled and hung up the phone. He was ready to make magic. He pulled out his cell phone to make a call.