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Dan didn’t know what to think of Judge Fernandez. He had no prior experience with the elderly jurist. He was usually on the criminal side of the courthouse, not here in the civil division. To him, civil suits were mostly businesspeople arguing over piles of money, delaying payment or welshing on agreements. Didn’t interest him. But this case was different. A big pile of money was involved, to be sure. But Ossie had much more than that at stake.
Judge Fernandez was of mixed descent—part Hispanic, part Hawaiian. How did he ever end up on the Florida bench? He was said to be on the conservative side, pro-business, not the person you wanted to approach for a handout. He had no idea how that would play out in this case—the normal dichotomy of liberals and conservatives didn’t have much relevance. If no one found any forensic evidence, it would simply be a matter of whether people believed Ossie’s story. He knew he had to do more than convince the court Ossie was the real deal. He had to make the jury want to rule in his favor, to feel they were doing the right thing by helping a young kid who deserved it and would do good by it.
He told Ossie to stay home. All they would cover today were preliminary and administrative matters, and courts typically preferred that the lawyers handle those without clients hanging around. When clients were present, everything took longer because lawyers tended to put on shows to impress the people paying their bill. Better to save Ossie for later. Let Maria buy some decent clothes for him. Let Jimmy spread some positive gossip. What people said about first impressions was true—you only get one. They would make it as good as they possibly could.
The plaintiffs’ team was represented by two lawyers from Dan’s former firm, Friedman & Collins. He knew them well enough to call them by name, but he’d never spent any time with them. Linda Caldwell and Richard Drake, both senior partners. That meant the Coleman family was spending major moolah on this litigation.
He spotted people he believed to be members of the family in the gallery. They didn’t sit at counsel table, but they were present. The oldest man was confined to a wheelchair. That had to be Zachary Coleman, the man who made the millions. He looked weak, feeble, unhappy. The oxygen tank under his chair reminded one and all that he was dying of COPD. On the bench nearby were two adult men with a middle-aged woman who seemed to chatter nonstop. She was probably married to one of the men, but she seemed to address both equally so he couldn’t be sure which. His impression was that she wasn’t there so much because the lawyers wanted her as because she refused to stay away.
He decided to plant some seeds and see if he got a reaction. He approached Linda Caldwell, the friendlier of the two opposing lawyers.
“Hey, Linda. Long time no see.” Scarf tie. Jade-colored pendant. Three rings on three fingers of her left hand.
“I’m surprised to see you, Pike. Are you still practicing?”
He tried not to roll his eyes. “Yes, there is life after Friedman & Collins.”
“Making ends meet?”
“Making twice what I did at your factory.” Not quite true, but it sounded good. “You should consider going out on your own.”
“Leave the most prestigious firm in the city? No thanks. It’s all downhill from here.”
“Might come a time when you want to be your own boss.”
Drake inserted himself in the conversation. “Except that’s not what you did, is it, Pike? Word on the street is that you’re a hired gun for some weird disembodied voice—and you don’t even know who he is.”
“I know the cases he brings me are worthwhile. That’s all that matters.”
Drake smirked. “Fighting for truth, justice, and the American way, are you?” He lowered his voice. “Because this case looks like a bunch of relatives squabbling over the patriarch’s portfolio.”
“This case is about my client establishing his identity. To him, it has little to do with money and everything to do with family.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Drake said, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s just the principle of the thing.”
“Yes, actually. That’s exactly right.”
“Whatever. Your guy is a desperate grifter who thought he’d take a shot at a fortune. Like that guy who claimed Howard Hughes left him a bundle because he gave him a lift one night.”
“My client was abducted as a child. Held captive for years.”
“And then magically appeared in time to get in the will before the old man clocked out? Please. Total con man. Did you get the DNA report, Pike?”
He tugged a file out of his backpack. “Yeah. Compares Ossie’s DNA to the rest of the Coleman clan. They say Ossie could be a member of the family.”
“The operative word being ‘could,” Caldwell replied. “The expert couldn’t eliminate the possibility, but the commonalities aren’t sufficient to prove unquestionably that he sprang from the Coleman bloodline.”
“We’ll have to rely on something other than DNA.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Yeah. Good lawyering.”
“You know...” Drake lowered his voice. “This is all very preliminary, but I have been authorized to offer your guy a little...settlement package.”
“How little?”
“Ten thousand bucks.”
He tried not to laugh. “That’s not a settlement offer. That’s go-away money.”
“Frankly, that’s all you’re entitled to. You don’t have much of a case.”
He smiled and offered a little salute. “We’ll see. My partners are gathering evidence as we speak. Let me know if you ever have a real settlement offer. If you wait too long—it will no longer be an option.”
That sounded sufficiently ominous, even though he hadn’t a clue what it meant. This conversation was going nowhere, so he grabbed the opportunity to get away from these smug losers. Had he been like that, back in the day? Thank God he got thrown out of that firm. That wasn’t who he was at all.
Was he?
Or is that who he was then, but now—?
The bailiff entered the room and brought the court to order. A few moments later, Judge Fernandez took his seat at the bench. He pushed on a pair of reading glasses, stared at a stack of papers, then called the case. Hunched slightly. Almost completely bald. Liver spots on his hands.
“I note that both parties are represented by counsel. Are there any motions or discovery issues we should take up at this time?”
Drake took it upon himself to answer. “No, your honor. We’ll be sending the normal motions, but we’re ready to proceed when the court is ready. We’d be good to go to trial today.”
The corner of the judge’s mouth turned up slightly. “Nice bravado. But I think we’ll give the parties time to do a little discovery first. My docket is relatively open though. Would anyone object to this case being set down four months from now?”
Four months? For a civil case, that was the equivalent of being tried tomorrow morning. Was there a reason the court was fast-tracking this? The publicity? Or was someone pushing his buttons, encouraging him to resolve this fast. Like before Grandpa kicks off?
He made a mental note to ask Garrett to investigate whether Judge Fernandez had any ties to the family.
“I’ll have my clerk issue the usual deadlines,” the judge continued. “But I see no reason why we can’t handle this expeditiously. I assume that’s in everyone’s best interest. Ossie Coleman has been a source of controversy for too long. Let’s see if we can give the family some peace.”
He didn’t know what to make of that completely unnecessary speech. He didn’t like it, though.
After the schedule was agreed upon, the clerk issued a form and all parties signed it. He would’ve liked to speak to the family members in the gallery, but he knew their lawyers wouldn’t approve. Jimmy was setting up interviews. He’d wait until it could be done in the court-approved manner.
He was surprised to find Jazlyn waiting outside the courtroom doors. Her lips were pursed and she looked tense.
“I assume this is not about the birthday party.”
“No. Though Esperanza loved your gift. Where do you get all this Hello Kitty stuff?”
“Japan.”
“Of course you do. Look, this is really none of my business, but an arrest warrant just came through the office and it concerns you.”
“DA Belasco has finally decided to lock me up for beating his lawyers in court too often?”
She gave him a look he chose not to describe. “No, it’s about this Ossie Coleman business.”
“Why would the DA be involved? This is a civil case.”
“It was. I mean, it still is, but it’s about to be criminal, too. One of that kid’s uncles has been murdered.”
He felt a hollowness inside his chest. “You’re kidding.”
“Sorry, no.”
“Does the family know?”
“I doubt it. This just broke.”
She must be right. They wouldn’t be sitting around in the courtroom if they knew a family member had been murdered. “As if this case couldn’t get any weirder. Who did it?”
“That’s the thing. The police think your client did it. Ossie—or as they say, the man-who-would-be-Ossie. Some officers have already left to pick him up.”
“That makes no sense. Why would Ossie want to kill his uncle?”
“Come on, Dan. The only question is why he didn’t take out the whole family.”
“Motive is not proof of guilt, and that estate has more than enough money to go around. Why do they think it was Ossie?”
Jazlyn tightened her lips. “Apparently, just before he died, the victim ID’d Ossie as his killer. In writing.”