“YOU KNOW,” MICKI reminisced, “to the female attorneys in Little Rock, that woman is a pioneer, practically a hero. She married Archie back when they were both students at Harvard Law. She’d been on law review, and Archie was ‘Old Little Rock,’ so she assumed she’d go to one of the established firms when they moved here. She didn’t expect the unwritten code of Little Rock society back then. Rule number one: Little Rock ‘ladies’ don’t have careers. Men do the work; women raise the babies.
“She interviewed with the big boys, but no one would consider her. Behind closed doors, they wondered how they would introduce her to clients, and heaven forbid, what if she got pregnant? Archie received several offers, but Janis put her foot down, and they formed Harold & Harold.
“You should hear her stories. One judge ordered her to appear in court wearing a dress or a traditional woman’s suit. She refused, and there was a bit of a standoff, until the judge backed down. She’s worn pantsuits ever since. Another time, the opposing lawyer in a divorce kept calling her ‘sweetheart.’ She put up with it, until he put his hand on her behind. He found her knee right where I kicked your attacker. She was one of the women who helped break that old code—and all she said to me was that I was tall.”
“Well, you’re making your own history right now,” I said, hoping she’d live to see it. “If we get there, she’ll make a great witness for Woody. She can put to rest all that rot about his being a hanger-on and a flunky. I’d hate to be the one to cross-examine her.”
“Agreed, but we only have Woody’s word about his role in a new committee. Although Janis does help. Did you really not know that your firm was doing legal work for Russell? How’s that possible?”
I had nothing to say to that.
“It’s too bad—if you hadn’t been fired last night, you could find out what the Super Pac’s agenda was, what role Woody was to play, and who was the money behind it. I’m not sure where that would have put you ethically, though. Representing Russell’s killer may not be unethical, but it would have put you in a tough spot.”
“Well, it’s water under the bridge now. Let’s talk about moving forward. It’s pretty clear that presenting an insanity defense is untenable, although I do believe her testimony supports Woody’s story that he planned to kill himself.”
Micki responded with a good point. “Yeah, but I’m not sure it helps with the accidental shooting scenario. Woody could have been planning all along to shoot Russell and then turn the gun on himself. That would be consistent with what happens all the time—one spouse killing the cheating partner and then committing suicide. I’m afraid it even plays into your oil conspiracy theory, which I still don’t buy.”
She had a good point, and as I watched her absorb her own argument, I wondered why Ron had never mentioned that we represented Russell. Why had I been kept out of the loop?
Rubbing my eyes, I leaned back and tried to focus on our immediate problems. “Let’s talk about court.”
Micki nodded. “All right. What are you thinking?”
“Well, without Woody’s cooperation, it’s hard to do much of anything. I need time—both to convince Woody to let me defend him and to throw Sam and the bad guys, whoever they are, off track. You’ve been in Marshall’s court before, so this afternoon, I want you to take the lead. If the judge asks you to waive something, you can honestly say you’ve just been hired, and until you’ve had a chance to meet the client, you’re not in the position to waive anything. I can’t bullshit Marshall, but I think you can. However, if you take the lead, you become the focus of the media, and whoever wants me gone may turn on you.”
Her mouth turned down at the corners, and she started to answer, but I extended my hand. “Wait a minute. I need to ask you about another shower thought. You’ll probably think I’m crazy, but hear me out. I’d like to know a little bit about your US attorney. Is he one of the good ones or one of the bad ones?”
“Christ! Jack, please tell me you’re not thinking about involving the feds?”
‘I know, I know—just tell me about him, then I’ll explain what I’m thinking.”
“He’s one of the worst,” she frowned. “It’s beyond me how he got through the system.”
What system? There was no system anymore. Nothing but politics and paybacks. In Janet Reno’s days, each potential US attorney’s legal credentials were thoroughly vetted, the associate attorney general reviewed the vetting before giving a thumbs-up, and then Reno herself interviewed the candidate. At first, the nominating senators didn’t like the process, but they quickly learned that it protected them. A few bad apples found their way into the barrel, but it was nothing like what happened during the Bush years.
“His name is Wilbur ‘Dub’ Blanchard, Junior,” Micki began. “He barely made it out of law school, and through his ‘Uncle Cecil’s’ connections, got a job on our former senator’s staff digging up dirt on judicial nominees.”
The expression on my face must have reflected my feelings accurately.
“Exactly,” she said. “So when this US attorney post opened up, Dub managed to get nominated and confirmed right before the election. Rumor has it that Russell had already asked the Justice Department to begin the process of having him removed. Now he’s all over the newspapers trying to promote himself, saying the power of the US government needs to be used to bury Woody. Hell, Sam might have agreed to let the feds have this case if Dub weren’t such an obvious doofus.”
“Okay,” I said, “I get the picture. Is there anyone in his office you trust? Maybe a deputy who’s been around a while? Someone you can talk with confidentially?”
“Rodney Fitzhugh. He’s a rock. He’s been there over twenty years, and has served as acting US attorney several times. He’s totally without agenda. Just does his job and goes home to his wife and kids. He’s one of the few prosecutors I would consider sleeping with, but his wife is one of my best friends.”
“All good to know,” I commented blandly, keeping a straight face.
“Are you planning something out of left field? Don’t keep me in the dark, partner.”
“Not to worry. I won’t.”
Deciding to call it quits for the time being, we found Paul and headed back to the hotel. The lobby was packed with people returning from the funeral, checking out, and trying to look important. They were a somber lot, mostly dressed in black. We rode a crowded elevator up to our room, which I could tell made Paul nervous. Clovis and Maggie were watching the TV coverage. The anchor was commenting on the eulogy and the touching concern the vice president had shown to the beautiful widow.
Maggie turned to me and said, “Jack, I think you should listen to Clovis for a minute.”
Clovis was fiddling with the remote. “I told you I didn’t think the nuts would come out until after the funeral. Well, the funeral is over, and just getting you in and out of the courtroom is gonna be a challenge. Apparently, the hotel and the jail have gotten more threats against both you and Woody, and the crowds are getting pretty ugly.”
I had no response, so he turned the sound back on, and we heard the announcer say, “CNN has just learned of an important development. It seems that US Attorney Dub Blanchard will appear this afternoon on behalf of the United States government. This is an unprecedented move, but after the funeral, the vice president called for swift and certain justice for Senator Russell’s killer and said he would ask the attorney general to insure that the interests of the United States were protected. Exactly what the US attorney has in mind is, for now, a complete mystery.”
Incredulous, Micki asked, “Are you psychic? Less than an hour ago you asked me about the US attorney, and now we hear he’s going to make an appearance this afternoon.”
“No, I’m not psychic. I asked for a completely different reason, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to make a big deal about the fact that Woody, Sam, Marshall, and I are friends. He’ll probably claim it’s up him to be sure the southern good-ol’-boy network doesn’t try to sweep justice under the rug. We can speculate all day about what Blanchard is up to, but it’s time to get ready for battle.”
We went to our rooms, and as I was changing for court, I remembered to call Lucy’s lawyer. When I told him the opposition research was with Janis, where it had always been, he told me that couldn’t be right. He had called Janis, and she told him that she couldn’t tell him where it was. I explained slowly that she was technically right. As the lawyer for the campaign, she couldn’t reveal either the existence of those files or their location.
He grumbled a bit about Lucy’s rights, and I enjoyed telling him that the only ones who could authorize the release were Woody or Russell’s executor. I could tell he wasn’t bright enough to figure out how to get Lucy what she wanted, and I didn’t have time to joust, so I told him there was a simple and easy way to get Lucy the files. Simply ask Janis for whatever release form she needed, and Woody would sign it.
Suspicious, he asked, “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. Woody thinks Lucy’s entitled to them.”
Caught off guard, he demanded to know how long all this would take, emphasizing that Lucy was in a hurry.
“As soon as you get off your ass and get me the release form. Or if you need me to, I can explain the holdup to Lucy.” I’d had just about enough of this guy. He hung up rather impolitely. I finished getting ready and returned to the living room.
Jeff and Beth were cozied up on the couch, hand in hand. I supposed I would have to get used to this new arrangement. Maggie was ready to go, but Micki was still getting ready, so the rest of us made small talk. She emerged dressed for court in a cardinal-red suit, white blouse, and black patent heels, her features emphasized by carefully applied make-up. With her height and the way the suit fit her athletic body, Micki was not only stunning, she was also intimidating. We had gotten used to her casual style—mostly running shorts and jeans. This was something else.
Beth whistled, and I caught Clovis and Jeff staring. Maggie pronounced, “Perfect!” I caught Maggie’s eye. I knew that Micki was nervous and had asked Maggie what she should wear. Maggie had convinced her that if she was going to be on the national stage, she needed to look the part. She needed to reflect power, poise, and class. I couldn’t wait to hear what the TV pundits would have to say about my “high powered” co-counsel.
Micki looked at me and asked, “It’s not too much?”
I smiled and put on my nearly forgotten southern accent, “Why, ma’am, I’m just proud to carry your briefcase.”