CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

“I have never been so insulted in my life,” said Rollins as he paced up and down behind his desk. “I should hold you for contempt,” he said.

Zader shook his head. “I can understand how upset you must be, Your Honor, but wouldn’t that be a little extreme? It might also throw fuel on Mr. Flynn’s argument.”

I took my hands from my pockets and studied Zader. He was on to me. I had to be a lot more careful. This was a dangerous opponent.

Tapping his index finger on the desk, Rollins fought to hold on to his temper, his collar straining at the bloated veins in his neck.

“How dare you make such an accusation in my courtroom. This is about respect, Flynn…” said Rollins. He’d dropped the formal address. “You will withdraw this scurrilous accusation right now, in open court, and you will apologize to me personally. If you do that, I will consider whether I need to send a letter of complaint to the Bar Association. Do you understand me?”

“I understand, perfectly. Which judge do you propose to replace you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, obviously, if you’re going to complain about me to the Bar Association, you can’t continue to hear my client’s case until that complaint is adjudicated. You’ll have to recuse yourself. So who is your replacement?”

He caught his tongue just in time. I could tell Rollins was thinking he’d underestimated me. He wasn’t the first to do that, not by a long shot.

“I cannot believe you have the audacity to stand there—”

“Your Honor, with all due respect, you asked me twice, in open court, to lean on my client to waive the prelim. You even said that this case should go to a jury, and you haven’t heard a word of evidence yet. All you’ve got is the DA’s opening statement. In my mind, you’ve already decided this case in the prosecution’s favor.”

“Of course I haven’t decided yet.”

“But you can see where I got that impression.”

He moved to his chair and sat down, cautiously, behind his desk. His extra chin flopped over his collar, his fingers folded across his stomach, and he considered his position. The anger faded—replaced by doubt.

“My comments were strictly obiter, Mr. Flynn. Nothing more. I was merely considering the possibility of moving this trial forward. Your client has the right to a speedy trial.”

I didn’t reply. Instead I inclined my head and kept my eyes on the judge, who couldn’t match my gaze for more than a second.

“You have no cause for bias, really,” said Rollins, opening his hands, splaying his fingers. He was asking me, not telling me. Since he’d cooled, he was replaying his request to waive the prelim over and over in his mind—wondering if he really had overstepped the mark.

I said nothing and let him worry.

Rollins looked at Zader, inviting his cooperation. Zader didn’t want to get involved in case it looked like he was backing up his pal the judge. He avoided the judge’s look by leafing through the evidence file.

“I’m not biased against your client, Mr. Flynn. Can you accept that?”

Hands on my hips, I nodded and said, “Your Honor, your word is good enough for me, but I’m mindful of my duty to my client. I will not pursue a recusal at this time, Your Honor, but I will reserve the right to raise it again, should the need arise. I’m sure it won’t.”

The judge rose from his seat, nodded, and waved us back into court. With his back to the judge, Zader gritted his teeth and shook his head as we left the chambers. He knew he’d lost the edge with Rollins.

Now I had leverage. As a new judge, Rollins didn’t want to make a ruling on recusal, because he was afraid I’d appeal his decision not to recuse himself. The last thing a baby judge needs is a senior member of the judiciary examining his conduct when he’s been in the job only five minutes. Instead Rollins would now make sure that I didn’t have the opportunity to raise bias again—by giving me some leeway, being a little friendlier to the defense. And Zader had guessed the exact same thing. I couldn’t resist the urge to antagonize Zader.

“Two can play at the bias game,” I said.

A fake smile was all he managed in reply.

Sounds from the crowd dissipated as Zader and I returned to the courtroom, Rollins following. I took up my position at the defense table. Zader returned to the lectern.

“Your Honor, we call the prosecution’s first witness to the stand, Mr. Gershbaum.”

Cooch gave me the thumbs-up.

We were on.