When Yuki opened her eyes that morning, she knew that the day she’d been dreading had arrived.
She was still conflicted. The kid was a patsy. But as Parisi had told her at the top of his lungs, it didn’t matter what she felt. She had a job to do. A good prosecutor can prosecute anyone. And since the defendant had refused to cooperate, she couldn’t do anything for him.
So in two hours Yuki would drop the hammer on Clay Warren.
Careful not to wake Brady, Yuki showered, blew out her hair, dressed in a classic blue suit, and stepped into her high-heeled blue suede shoes.
There was a note on the table in the foyer next to her keys that read, “XXX ♥ B.” She smiled, pressed her lips to the back of the note, and after returning the lipstick kiss to the table, Yuki gathered her stuff and drove to the Hall.
During the drive Yuki reviewed her prep for the trial.
She’d rehearsed her opening and saw no holes in her argument. She’d prepared her witness and set up the props, and she liked the jury. And she thought about opposing counsel, her friend Zac Jordan.
Yuki had worked pro bono with Zac at the Defense League and learned a lot from him. He was smart, had a passion for the underdog, and had a gift for connecting with a jury. She’d also learned that Zac lacked a killer instinct.
But even if he sprinkled broken glass on his cereal, his teenage client was facing grand theft auto, possession of a firearm, and holding a kilo of an illegal substance with intent to distribute—to name three.
The really bad news for Clay Warren was that even if he hadn’t stolen the car, owned the gun, or possessed the drugs, a cop had been killed during the commission of those felonies. That made Clay just as guilty as the guy in the passenger seat.
The charge was felony murder, and the penalty was twenty-five to life. Yuki had gone way out on a very weak limb for Clay, but her sympathy for him had been wasted.
The kid had brought the hammer down on himself.
Minutes after leaving her car at the All-Day lot across from the Hall, Yuki reached her office with time to spare.
Danusa Freire a recent graduate of Berkeley Law and her second chair, popped out of her cubicle and followed Yuki to her desk.
“Hey, Danusa Anything happening that I need to know?”
Danusa said, “No calls, no walk-ins, and no semaphore signals from sinking ships. I checked your mail ten minutes ago, and there was nothing regarding Clay Warren.”
She placed the thick folder of highlighted deposition transcripts and Yuki’s opening statement on her desk and handed her a container of milky coffee.
The young lawyer said, “I just have to tell you, I’m pretty excited. I wish my parents could see this trial.”
Yuki smiled at her number two. She sipped coffee without getting any on her suit and picked up the folder.
“Ready, steady, go,” she said.
Danusa Freire locked the office door behind them.