Herbert Fisher sat down on a bench next to his new client, Roberta Calder. He wanted to address her with his hands around her throat, but he observed courtroom decorum.
“You wouldn’t believe what I went through, who I had to share a cell with,” Roberta said.
“All right, Robbie,” he said, “tell me what you’ve done.”
“Done? Me?”
“Why didn’t you telephone me, as Stone advised, when the police arrived?”
“I did telephone you, and you didn’t show up.”
“You texted me, and you didn’t tell me where to come.”
“Well!” she exploded, causing him to put a finger to his lips.
“Did you tell the police they could search your apartment?”
“I did not.”
“What, exactly, did you say to them?”
“I told them they wouldn’t find anything they were looking for in my home!”
“In exactly those words?”
“More or less.”
“I need to know exactly what words you spoke to them.”
“I may have said something like, ‘Go ahead, you won’t find anything in my home!’”
“Can you see how they might have interpreted the words ‘Go ahead’ as an affirmative response to their request to search your apartment?”
“Well, interpretation is their problem, isn’t it?”
“We’ll see shortly. Now, what else did you say to them?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Did they ask you any questions?”
She shrugged. “I suppose.”
“What was the first question they asked you?”
“They said, ‘Where’s the gun?’”
“And how did you respond?”
“I said, ‘Go ahead, you won’t find a gun here.’”
Herb took a very deep breath and let it out slowly. “But they did find a gun, didn’t they?”
“Well, that’s what they said. They shouldn’t be rummaging around in a person’s underwear drawer.”
“Did they show you a gun?”
“Yes, a very small one.”
“Had you seen the gun before?”
“I may have, during the short time Randy and I lived together.”
“Was it his gun?”
“Well, who else’s?”
“Did he show it to you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say, ‘This is my gun’?”
“Words to that effect.”
“Did he ever fire the gun in your presence?”
“Only once,” she said.
“How many times?”
“On one occasion, but he fired it more than once.”
“How many times?”
“Several.”
“Can you put a number on it?”
“Eight?”
“The gun in question holds only six rounds.”
“What are rounds?”
“Bullets.”
“Okay, less than eight times. I’m not sure how many.”
“Where did the bullets go?”
“Out the barrel, of course.”
“What was the gun pointed at?”
“Me!”
“But he missed?”
“Obviously. I’m not dead.”
“Did the bullets strike something behind you, like a wall?”
“I suppose.”
“Where were you standing at the time?”
“In the corner of my living room.”
They were interrupted by the bailiff, who shouted, “Roberta Hedger!”
Herb stood up, taking Robbie with him. “Here, Your Honor,” he called out and half-led, half-dragged Robbie to the well of the court.
“Roberta Hedger, two counts of murder!” the bailiff shouted.
“Are you Roberta Hedger?” the judge asked her.
“I most certainly am not!” Robbie retorted. “I never took that beast’s name.”
“Your Honor,” Herb said. “This is Roberta Calder who was married to Randall Hedger, one of the victims. She retained her maiden name.” He hoped to God there was paperwork supporting that.
“All right, Ms. Calder,” the judge said. “Let the record show that the defendant is Roberta Calder. How do you plead?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor,” Herb said.
“Definitely not guilty!” Roberta shouted.
“Your Honor, the defendant is an upstanding member of her community, with a national reputation as a designer, and is without a record of arrest or conviction. She operates a successful custom-clothing business from the basement of her home and employs approximately two dozen people in this endeavor. The business requires her constant presence in order to operate, and we request that she be released on her own recognizance.”
The prosecutor, a woman who appeared to be so young she couldn’t vote, was on her feet. “Objection, Your Honor. The people have in its possession a pistol identified by ballistic science to be the murder weapon.”
“Your Honor,” Herb said. “Counsel’s assertion is incorrect. Police ballistics have now confirmed that the weapon found in a dumpster two blocks from one of the murder scenes was not employed in either murder. This news has, apparently, not yet reached the prosecution.”
An assistant tugged at the sleeve of the prosecutor and whispered something in her ear. “Your Honor,” she said, “the prosecution withdraws the assertion regarding the possible murder weapon, but can confirm that a search of the defendant’s home produced another weapon of identical caliber and manufacture.”
“And how is ballistics coming along with that one?” Herb asked.
“We expect to have a new ballistics report momentarily,” she replied, “and we also note that the police found four of the six rounds held in the weapon as having been fired.”
“Your Honor,” Herb said. “Those rounds were fired by Randall Hedger at my client and, presumably, still rest in the wall of her living room. The police search, which incidentally was not conducted under a search warrant or with permission from my client, did not include a search for the spent rounds.”
“Ms. Spence?” the judge asked, his eyebrows going up.
Ms. Spence was flustered. “Judge, our request for a search warrant did not include spent rounds.”
“Did you get the warrant?”
“Not yet, Your Honor.”
“Did the police have permission to search?”
“That is their contention,” she replied.
Herb pounced. “My client did not give her permission for a search, Your Honor. Move for dismissal.”
“Objection!” Spence cried.
“Grounds?”
“Ah . . .”
“Charges are dismissed, without prejudice,” the judge said, banging his gavel. “Next case?”
“What just happened?” Robbie asked.
Herb hooked an arm around her waist and hustled her from the courtroom.
“What happened?” Robbie asked again.
“I persuaded the judge to dismiss the charges against you. You are free to go and find a cab at this hour, if you can.”
“Why is he prejudiced against me?”
“‘Without prejudice’ means the prosecutor can re-file the charges against you, as soon as she gets her act together.”
“Oh.”
“Come on, I’ll find us a cab.” Amazingly, he was able to do so.
“Oh, Herbert,” she said as she climbed in.
“Yes?”
“You’re fired.” She slammed the door in his face.
“Thank you so much!” he yelled as the cab pulled away. He started searching for another cab.