of Rosato & Associates were empty, quiet, and still, and the air smelled of stale coffee, cold lo mein, and sugary Bubblicious gum, which both Mary and Judy chewed with the intensity of hamsters on a flywheel, as if they were generating an alternative source of energy, powering themselves. They had transformed the small conference room into a war room, with the Stall trial record, exhibits, and stacks of daily transcripts cluttering the conference table, and the articles Mary had found online about Fiona’s murder tacked up on a bulletin board that rested on two easels.
Mary was reading the trial record, but had finished only with the first day and knew she was running out of time. The windows showed the bright lights of the office buildings, and the wall clock, which she checked every five minutes, read 8:35. She resented that she had to hurry up and get home by nine, which would never happen, and she was kicking herself for not telling Anthony later. She pulled over the thick transcript of the second day of trial, looking up at Judy. “How are you doing?”
“Fine, plowing through.” Judy raised her bleary gaze from the pleadings index, which would show everything that had been filed in the case. She loved the academic side of the legal analysis and was a born appellate lawyer, which was considered the crème de la crème of lawyerdom. In contrast, Mary was a trial-court kind of gal, because she liked the nitty-gritty of courtroom battle and preferred tomato sauce to crème.
“Learning anything?”
“His lawyer wasn’t terrible, just inexperienced. But he cited the right cases, even current ones. His papers were very good.”
Mary smiled. That “papers were good” was the highest compliment Judy could give someone. “So he did a good job.”
“Yes, but he lost, because as we know, you can do a good job and still lose.” Judy nodded curling her upper lip. She had taken off her blue jacket and left it crumpled on the seat next to her, whereas Mary had hung hers on a hanger behind the door. They were the Goofus and Gallant of the law, and liked it that way, especially Mary, who got to be Gallant.
“I admire Stall for not taking the deal at the outset,” she said.
“I don’t. That’s why he was sentenced to the maximum. They were making him pay. Not only didn’t he plead out, he asked for a jury trial.” Judy didn’t have to elaborate. They both knew the dirty little secret of the criminal justice system, that it rested on a shaky foundation of plea bargains in which defendants could be cajoled, manipulated, and sometimes pressured into pleading guilty. Mary knew that many of them would be guilty, but some wouldn’t, and she wondered if Lonnie Stall could be one of them, actually innocent.
Suddenly, they both turned to the pinging sound of the elevator and the commotion in the hallway that told them that Bennie and Anne were back.
Judy set down the pleading index. “The hunter is home from the hill.”
“Wonder if they won,” Mary said, as Bennie popped her head in the doorway, with a grin. Her suit was wrinkled and her blonde curls looked even more unruly, but her blue eyes flashed with animation. Bennie came alive on trial. When she wasn’t around a jury, she was like an attack dog with time on his hands.
“Hey, ladies!”
“How’d you do?”
“Good. Got another day left.” Bennie entered the room and picked up the take-out container of lo mein, which happened to have two ballpoints stuck inside. “What’s this?”
Judy smiled. “They forgot the chopsticks. It works. Have some.”
“That’s okay, I ate.”
“Where’s Anne?” Mary asked.
“She went home. I came by to pick up some papers. The Natick case is rearing its ugly head, and I’ll be up all night. What’s happening on Gardner?”
Mary and Judy exchanged glances. “We’re of two different minds,” Mary answered.
“You want to talk it out?”
“Sure.” Mary had an eye on the wall clock. “We’ll tell it
Mary was reading the trial record, but had finished only with the first day and knew she was running out of time. The windows showed the bright lights of the office buildings, and the wall clock, which she checked every five minutes, read 8:35. She resented that she had to hurry up and get home by nine, which would never happen, and she was kicking herself for not telling Anthony later. She pulled over the thick transcript of the second day of trial, looking up at Judy. “How are you doing?”
“Fine, plowing through.” Judy raised her bleary gaze from the pleadings index, which would show everything that had been filed in the case. She loved the academic side of the legal analysis and was a born appellate lawyer, which was considered the crème de la crème of lawyerdom. In contrast, Mary was a trial-court kind of gal, because she liked the nitty-gritty of courtroom battle and preferred tomato sauce to crème.
“Learning anything?”
“His lawyer wasn’t terrible, just inexperienced. But he cited the right cases, even current ones. His papers were very good.”
Mary smiled. That “papers were good” was the highest compliment Judy could give someone. “So he did a good job.”
“Yes, but he lost, because as we know, you can do a good job and still lose.” Judy nodded curling her upper lip. She had taken off her blue jacket and left it crumpled on the seat next to her, whereas Mary had hung hers on a hanger behind the door. They were the Goofus and Gallant of the law, and liked it that way, especially Mary, who got to be Gallant.
“I admire Stall for not taking the deal at the outset,” she said.
“I don’t. That’s why he was sentenced to the maximum. They were making him pay. Not only didn’t he plead out, he asked for a jury trial.” Judy didn’t have to elaborate. They both knew the dirty little secret of the criminal justice system, that it rested on a shaky foundation of plea bargains in which defendants could be cajoled, manipulated, and sometimes pressured into pleading guilty. Mary knew that many of them would be guilty, but some wouldn’t, and she wondered if Lonnie Stall could be one of them, actually innocent.
Suddenly, they both turned to the pinging sound of the elevator and the commotion in the hallway that told them that Bennie and Anne were back.
Judy set down the pleading index. “The hunter is home from the hill.”
“Wonder if they won,” Mary said, as Bennie popped her head in the doorway, with a grin. Her suit was wrinkled and her blonde curls looked even more unruly, but her blue eyes flashed with animation. Bennie came alive on trial. When she wasn’t around a jury, she was like an attack dog with time on his hands.
“Hey, ladies!”
“How’d you do?”
“Good. Got another day left.” Bennie entered the room and picked up the take-out container of lo mein, which happened to have two ballpoints stuck inside. “What’s this?”
Judy smiled. “They forgot the chopsticks. It works. Have some.”
“That’s okay, I ate.”
“Where’s Anne?” Mary asked.
“She went home. I came by to pick up some papers. The Natick case is rearing its ugly head, and I’ll be up all night. What’s happening on Gardner?”
Mary and Judy exchanged glances. “We’re of two different minds,” Mary answered.
“You want to talk it out?”
“Sure.” Mary had an eye on the wall clock. “We’ll tell it
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