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Dan was in Camila’s living room trying to comfort her, but he wasn’t having much luck. The temper he had heard so much about in court was on full display, and he didn’t seem to be able to rein it in.
“That lying dog! That complete son-of-a-bitch!” She paced back and forth across her living room. “I let the man work for me! I paid him! And this is how he repays me!”
“Apparently someone else paid him more.”
“This is not a court of justice. This is a court of killers. And they are all conspiring to make me their next victim.”
“Garrett and several others we hired are investigating—”
“Find the payment. Follow the money.”
“We’re working on it.”
“Don’t just work on it. Do it!”
He stood. “Camila, we’re doing everything possible and then some. But you can’t hope for miracles. Esposito is not a stupid man. We have to assume he’s covered his tracks and he’s not going to have a sudden change of heart and recant his testimony. We have to build our own case. We have to prove his lies were lies.”
“Another reason you must put me on the witness stand.”
He had objected to Esposito’s final jab suggesting Camila threatened to “burn” Callahan, and the judge instructed the jury to disregard the remark—but how could they? After Esposito finished testifying, Jazlyn rested the prosecution case. Tomorrow morning, the defense would start putting on their case. Whatever that might be. Maria’s strategy was to make all the charges appear politically motivated, but that was harder now that Esposito made Camila out to be a lusty vengeful shrew. “Sadly...I think you’re right. The Fifth Amendment isn’t going to get us anywhere. The only person who can refute those charges and rehabilitate your character is you.”
“I don’t know why you would even resist. I can handle myself. I can explain what actually happened.”
“You’re assuming that if you explain everything, the jury will believe you. But it doesn’t always work that way. You’re on the defensive, just by merit of being charged with a crime. Once the defendant is on the witness stand, the burden of proof effectively shifts. It’s no longer the prosecution proving you guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. It’s you trying to convince the jury you’re innocent. Jurors will perceive everything you say as a desperate attempt to escape punishment for your crimes.”
“I have committed no crimes.”
“Some people assume anyone accused has committed some crime, even if it isn’t the one they’re currently on trial for. You’re mounting an uphill climb, even before you’ve begun. Plus, you’ll be cross-examined.”
“Can’t be worse than a political debate.”
“Oh yes it can. People are at least semi-respectful in debates. In cross, they go for the jugular. And Jazlyn is very good at that. She has a knack for slicing people to shreds before they realize she’s even taken out the blade.”
“She does not scare me.”
“She should. She scares me sometimes.”
Camila stopped a moment. “The great ladies’ man is scared of a woman?”
“I have never been a ladies’ man. But I respect a gifted opponent, and that’s what she is.”
“You and she dated once, no?”
“No. Well...depends on who you ask. At any rate, it didn’t go far.”
“Her choice, or yours?”
“Mutual. Prosecutors can’t date defense attorneys.”
“All things are possible when the heart is aching.”
“Yeah, well. Didn’t happen.”
“Defense attorneys can’t date their clients either, right?”
“Definitely.”
“And yet...I see the way you look at me. When you think I don’t notice.”
He turned slowly, eyes narrowed. “I...don’t know what you...”
A grin crossed her face. It was pleasant to see her finally smiling...but also unsettling. “Later. When this is done. If I am not incarcerated. Put me on the stand. First.”
“Not first.”
“They are anxious to hear from me. Give the people what they want. First principle of politics.”
“Trials have more to do with showbiz than politics. And the first principle of showbiz—make ‘em wait. Build anticipation.”
“They will wonder—”
“Let them wonder. Don’t seem overeager. We need to lay a foundation. Didn’t you read Maria’s strategy plan?”
“Twice. She is a smart woman.”
“She is, and she’s right about this. First, we’ll put on Benji. She’s fiercely loyal to you, and she can clear up some of the business with Nick Mansfield and Sean Callahan. Then Culpepper. She can deal with the business about the bakery and the demolition. Then, once we’ve had credible witnesses explain that most of Esposito’s insinuations were completely ungrounded, we’ll put you on the stand to explain what really happened. Instead of a weak bunt, you’ll be batting cleanup. That’s how we get the grand slam.”
Camila thought for a moment. “That does make sense. I suppose I can wait. But you will put me on the stand.”
He held her by the arms and looked directly into her eyes. “I will. That’s a promise.”
Her eyes narrowed. “There was one part of that ugly man’s testimony that was true. You do not want to be on the wrong side of my temper.”
He gave her arms a little squeeze. “Of that I am certain.”
* * *
When he returned to the courtroom, Dan found Maria by the front doors, jogging in place.
“Fitbit?”
She nodded, huffing. “Thing’s a slave driver. I was looking at my data online this morning. I’m not getting enough steps. Got to keep my derriere in shape.”
“Your derriere is in excellent shape.”
“You’re just being kind.”
“That was the first thing I said when—” He stopped short. “First thing I said. First night I met you. Complimented you on how well your jeans showcased your...assets.” Another pause. “I think maybe...I should apologize.”
“You’re a guy. Guys will be guys.”
“Yeah.” He pondered a moment. “You think all this would be happening if Camila were a guy? If the world was gender-neutral?”
Maria’s Fitbit pinged. She slowed her jogging and pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m confused. Does this mean you don’t like the way I look in my jeans?”
“No. But it means maybe that shouldn’t have been the first thing I noticed.”
He started toward the defendant’s table, but Jazlyn waved to get his attention.
He held out his hands. “Friends, right?”
“Business associates. We need to talk.”
“Ready to throw in the towel?”
“Not even close. But I have been authorized to make an offer.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, he was back at the defense table. He sat between Maria and Camila. “Guess what?”
Camila gave him a look. “Given how much time you just spent with the comely prosecutor, we either have a plea bargain offer or you have a dinner date.”
“The former. She started with life, no death penalty, but after some negotiation, I wheedled her down to manslaughter. It’s not an intent crime, so it carries a lesser penalty.”
“How many years?” Maria asked.
“Fifteen flat. Meaning no chance of reduction, no probation or parole. Fifteen years.”
“And to get it,” Camila said, “I must plead guilty.”
“Exactly.”
“That will never happen.”
“Which is what I told her. But I am ethically required to present all offers to my client. I gather my client rejects the prosecutor’s offer?”
“Your client tells the prosecutor to go screw herself.”
He nodded. “That’s a no.”
“Why would anyone ever agree to that?”
“Because they’re scared. Because they don’t want to roll the dice at the craps table we call a courtroom. Especially not when the death penalty is on the table. That’s the way the system works these days. Discretion is in the hands of prosecutors. Used to be in the hands of judges—and should be—but politicians didn’t like that. Crime rates spiked in the 80s and politicians started using “law and order”—often a code phrase for racist appeals—as a slogan to get votes. They passed mandatory sentencing laws, which removed discretion from judges. That’s when we started to see our prison populations rise to such extent that today we have the largest prison population in the world.”
“But prosecutors do have discretion?”
“They decide whether to bring charges. They deal with their huge overload of cases by offering plea bargains, which defendants accept even when they aren’t guilty because they don’t want to risk going to court, especially if they belong to a minority group. 96% of all cases filed are plea bargained. So prosecutors know there’s a 96% chance the defendant will plead guilty to any charge they bring. Prosecutors can brag about their high conviction rates—and prisons get stuffed to the max with non-dangerous offenders and drug addicts and people who just need help—which they won’t get in prison. They become a taxpayer burden because we insist upon this medieval form of punishment.”
Maria smiled at Camila. “You’ve gotten him on his soapbox.”
“So I see. You feel strongly about this.”
“Given my family history, I don’t have any choice. This system is screwed up, and it won’t get any better if people refuse to talk about it. Or refuse to acknowledge that there might be a better way of doing things. Instead of throwing non-violent offenders in prison, we should explore other sentencing possibilities. Work release. Halfway houses. Restitution. Drug and alcohol programs. Psychiatric counseling. All of which would be cheaper than incarceration.”
Maria cleared her throat. “But getting back to this case...”
“Yes. Sorry. Getting back to this case. The offer doesn’t mean they think they’re losing. But they know this trial is getting a lot of attention, and fifteen years will be enough to appease the populace.”
“It doesn’t even make sense,” Camila replied. “Manslaughter? Like someone carelessly turned on that oven?”
“They’ll say you were out of your mind. Diminished capacity. You’ll have to undergo psychiatric examination.”
“Let me repeat. Tell your pretty friend that she can—”
“Got it.” He turned toward Jazlyn, caught her eye, and turned his thumb downward.
She understood.
Five minutes later, the trial resumed.