October 2, 1968

“This Boxer fellow is full of baloney,” Sabbatino said to Brill. “Not that that’s a surprise, of course.”

“What did he say when you called and asked about the tapes?”

“He said we’ll get them. It’s just that he’s been tied up, and he’s planning on leaving the office soon, etcetera. A lot of phony excuses.”

“I thought we were actually going to get some discovery well in advance of trial this time. I guess I guessed wrong.”

“I’ve never been a prosecutor, Joe. You have. But I just have never understood why it’s skin off the DA’s nose to let the defendant get a fair—I mean that—a fair trial.”

“Even DAs are human, Peter. They want to win—not put people in jail necessarily, but they do want to do well. You can’t do well if your opponent gets all your good stuff.”

“But we’re dealing with people’s lives, Joe, people who are facing jail. This isn’t just some business.”

“As professionals, defense attorneys purposely, in order to be objective, deal with cases just as cases, not as people. Isn’t that true, Peter?”

“True. I don’t want to know a thing about my clients or their families. I’d get too involved emotionally, otherwise.”

“DAs are in the same professional mold. They aren’t dealing with people, they’re dealing just with cases.”

Sabbatino thought for a moment. “You think Boxer changed his mind, decided to hedge his bet, keep the material to himself until just before the trial?”

“I don’t know. You say he’s leaving the special prosecutor’s office? Perhaps he doesn’t want to tie the hands of the fellow who inherits the case.”

“In any case, we’ll see in a few minutes when we get to court.”

“I really feel like a deadbeat,” Marty said bitterly to J.T. They were in J.T.’s office, waiting for Stern to fetch the car to take them to Judge Moriarty’s court.

“Look, I’m going to have a meeting with DeValen to set up the final arrangements for his retainer. I’m going to ask him for a guarantee—win, lose, or draw in the mayoral campaign—funds for at least one year. This way, at least we know that we’ll have the time and the money to get our office going, even if DeValen becomes disenchanted with us.”

“Does that mean you’re having some doubts about being able to carry this mayoral thing off?”

“Not at all. But I can hedge against the future. Why should we take any chances?”

“I still feel like a deadbeat.”

“About what?” J.T. said absently, flipping through some papers he took from a manila envelope.

“About first telling Brill and Sabbatino they could have the discovery, and then having to make up some dreary excuse for not giving it to them. Why the hell am I bothering to tell you? You’re not even listening.”

“Yes I am. I heard you. You’re feeling guilty because you haven’t turned over the tapes to the lawyers,” he said casually, still studying the papers in his hand. “The papers I’m looking at are survey results on people’s reaction to my campaign. We had them compiled last week. We’re strong in the areas that we figured we’d be strong in—Queens, Brooklyn, Staten Island. In fact, it looks like we’re picking up strength.”

“When are you resigning from this office?”

“As soon as I have a piece of paper guaranteeing our retainer, with DeValen’s signature on it. If I announce my resignation before we have the guarantee, DeValen will have me by the short hairs and could walk away from his promise, and we’d be out in the cold without a job or a private office.”

“You don’t leave too much to chance, Otto.”

“Otto? You know we haven’t used that in a long time. Reminds me of the days of our innocence and youth.” He thought. “But I’m not that naive Otto I once was.”

“We’re both far from innocent anymore, J.T. The way we’ve been slipping and sliding through the narrow cracks doesn’t leave much room for innocence.”

J.T. shrugged, with a little smile. “We may not fight fair, but we don’t often lose.”

“I’m sorry to see that’s become your philosophy.”

“And not yours?”

“Not consciously. Or perhaps I should say, not by conscious choice. But, going along with your ideas without much opposition, I guess that makes me equally guilty.”

“That’s a rather strong word—guilty.”

“Why are you coming to court yourself this morning, J.T.?” Marty asked.

“Balzano set something up with the court reporters. They’re going to cover the Tauber case and catch me, accidentally-on-purpose, in action. That’ll give them an opportunity to do an article about the campaign. Every bit of publicity is important.”

“I should have known you had some devious reason.”

“Of course,” J.T. smiled. “Now where are we with the case, so I’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“We’re exchanging discovery. At first I told the defense I’d give them the tapes. Now—thanks to you—I’ve told them that the turnover would have to wait because I’m resigning from the office and I didn’t want to do anything that would interfere with what my successor wants to do.”

“Good, good.” J.T. nodded abstractly, his attention again wandering to the mayoral survey documents.

Marty stopped speaking as he saw J.T. absorbed in his statistics.

“People versus Tauber,” called the clerk.

Judge Moriarty glared savagely at Sabbatino as the lawyers and defendants walked to the defense counsel table.

“What’s your pleasure, Mr. Wright?” the judge asked, turning toward the prosecutor’s table. J.T. was still fascinated with those statistics, which showed that he was liked, wanted, needed, by thousands of people all around the city.

Marty nudged J.T.

“That’s not necessary, Marty,” J.T. whispered harshly. “I heard him. I believe, Your Honor, that the people are ready for trial,” J.T. said aloud.

Of course, J.T. knew that neither he nor anyone else in the office was ready to try the case. But he also knew the defense wasn’t ready yet either, as the motions for a Bill of Particulars hadn’t yet been decided. Thus it was safe for him to announce his readiness, putting the burden of asking for an adjournment on the defense lawyers.

“Your Honor,” said Joe Brill calmly, “apparently there’s some mistake on Mr. Wright’s part.”

J.T. looked up from his statistics. He was well aware that reporters were in the audience, listening, writing.

“The last time we were in court, Mr. Boxer advised us that we would receive all the discovery we needed in order to prepare this case. We have received nothing. While I appreciate that some might think that’s what defense counsel should be allowed to prepare a case, I for one admit I am unable to do so.”

“Your Honor,” said J.T. “We turned over what we believed to be all the discovery material—except, of course, for the tapes. Those will be turned over. I assumed that was everything.”

“Your Honor,” Sabbatino countered instantly, “since Mr. Wright was not here the last time this case was on the calendar, he may not be aware that Mr. Boxer advised defense counsel that whatever was needed could be obtained without further motions or objection. I’m sure Mr. Boxer recalls that.”

J.T.’s mind was absorbed in his documents, preparing for the interview that awaited him.

“That’s not necessary,” the judge said, smiling. “The fact that Mr. Boxer was attempting to be cooperative doesn’t create a compact, bonded and copper-sheathed, which binds the prosecutor to its terms.”

“J.T.,” Marty whispered, “will you get your face out of those statistics!”

“What is it?”

“Tell them they’re going to have everything I told them they’d have.”

“You realize there are reporters here waiting to interview me?”

The eyes of the entire courtroom were centered on Marty and J.T.’s whispered conversation.

“Then you’d better announce that you’re retiring from this office.”

“I can’t make that announcement this morning. I told you I had to get something in writing from DeValen first.”

“Gentlemen?” the judge said in a kindly fashion.

“Your Honor,” said Marty, turning to the judge. “Everything I said the defense would have, they shall indeed have.”

The judge’s eyes flicked immediately to J.T.

“The tapes, however, are not ready to be turned over at this time,” Marty concluded.

“Your Honor,” said Sabbatino, “I don’t understand why the tapes cannot be turned over now. Particularly since they are the essence of the case.”

“You know what is said about looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

“I only know a little about the various ends of equine anatomy, Your Honor,” said Sabbatino.

“What was that remark, Mr. Sabbatino?” The judge’s eyes opened wide, his scrubbed skin turning an angry, bloodless white around the jaw muscles.

“I know little about horses’ parts,” Sabbatino said calmly.

“If I thought for certain that you meant something snide and insulting to the court, you can rest assured, sir, that I would have you flung into jail for contempt this very minute.”

“I certainly did not mean to infer anything other than that I know almost nothing about horses,” Sabbatino said innocently.

Sabbatino was at his best under adversity. It seemed to take years of age away from him as he stood straight, facing the judge directly, unafraid, bold, at ease.

“Give me a date, gentlemen,” the judge said, staring with narrowed eyes at Sabbatino.

“Three weeks from today, Your Honor,” suggested Brill.

“Very well, October twentieth,” the judge said. “Call the next case.”

“I thought he was going to leap over the bench for sure that time,” Brill said softly to Sabbatino as they left the courtroom.

“J.T., J.T.,” the reporter from the Times called as he stood in the aisle. “Can we talk with you?”

“Sure,” said J.T., “let’s go out in the corridor.”

“I couldn’t believe it when Sabbatino called the judge a horse’s ass right to his face,” the Times reporter said.

“He didn’t say that, did he?” said J.T.

“He sure as hell did.”

They walked to the windows in the corridor.

“What about the mayoral race?” another reporter asked directly. “Are you serious about it? Or is this just a trial balloon?”

“I’m quite serious about the need for New York to have some responsible and strong leadership,” J.T. replied.

“Are you prepared to leave the Special Prosecutor’s office to run?”

“I am not, at this time, making any announcement that I’m leaving my current post or that I am officially running for the mayor’s office. I am considering the matter, I am seriously considering the matter. But I am not prepared right this moment to make a formal announcement.”

“When do you think you might be in a position to make an announcement, one way or the other?”

J.T. and Marty exchanged glances.

“Very soon, I should think.”