vehicle, especially one in handcuffs seated in a patrol car, was not in a position to brandish weapons or destroy anything. Now that Brett had eliminated all the exceptions that might be advanced by the police, the judge was likely to rule the evidence be tossed on the grounds the police had violated his constitutional rights. Ryan watched while the judge heard each side’s arguments, promising to issue a decision by the next day.
Ryan approached the rail to shake Brett’s hand. She craved the contact and welcomed the opportunity to disguise her motive behind simple professional courtesy, but before Ryan could reach her, Brett dashed off toward the rear door of the courtroom that led to the judge’s chambers. Ryan watched her go. She felt strangely blue about the missed opportunity for a connection with Brett, but she didn’t allow her attention to linger on the unfamiliar sentiment. Instead, she shrugged and turned to deliver a lecture about proper preparation to her subordinate.
*
Judge Langston made a quick exit through the door behind her bench. Brett grabbed the papers off her table, jammed them in her briefcase, and made a beeline through the clerk’s office so she could catch the judge in chambers before she shut her office door. Brett slipped into her office as the judge was hanging up her robe. Beneath the robe, she wore a smart tailored suit in deep crimson.
“Judge, may I talk to you for a moment?”
“Do we need Ms. Archer?” The judge referred to the prosecutor. Brett realized the judge thought she wanted to talk about the case she had just argued. She quickly assured her she wasn’t trying for an ex parte communication. “No, ma’am. I have a question about an altogether different matter.”
“All right then.” Judge Langston reached behind her desk for a tray containing a dainty china tea set. “Cup of tea?”
Brett smiled and nodded. She knew she was invading the judge’s standard morning break. Every day, no matter what was going on in the courtroom, she broke at ten thirty and retired to her chamber for a twenty-minute tea break. No one, including the judge’s coordinator, dared interrupt once the tea pouring began, but if you could catch her before she got started, you were likely to be invited to join. Tea with the judge was an invitation not to be declined.
Brett waited until the tea was poured and prepared. Finally, the judge took a deep sip, set her cup down, and leaned toward Brett. “What can I do for you, Ms. Logan?”
“Judge, if an individual was arrested for a serious crime and qualified as indigent, you would appoint counsel, correct?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“I do. Here’s a question I don’t know the answer to. If an individual committed a serious crime, but no one suspected them, yet they wanted to turn themselves in, would you appoint counsel before they had their first contact with anyone from law enforcement or the district’s attorney’s office?”
“This individual is indigent?”
“Yes.”
The judge revisited her teacup. Brett waited. She was well acquainted with Judge Langston’s habits. Thinking while drinking was one of her calling cards.
“How serious is this crime?”
“Capital murder.”
Langston didn’t flinch, but Brett caught a glint in her eye and realized the judge understood this whole line of questioning was not hypothetical.
“A logical course of action might be to talk to someone in the public defender’s office. They might be able to facilitate whatever this individual needs.”
The judge was right, and Brett had considered that option after Kenneth left her office the previous afternoon. A few clicks of her mouse later she learned the public defender’s office couldn’t help Kenneth Phillips. The Dallas County PD’s office had at least one attorney assigned to each court, but that wasn’t enough personnel to cover all the cases where defendants qualified for appointed counsel. To supplement the
Ryan approached the rail to shake Brett’s hand. She craved the contact and welcomed the opportunity to disguise her motive behind simple professional courtesy, but before Ryan could reach her, Brett dashed off toward the rear door of the courtroom that led to the judge’s chambers. Ryan watched her go. She felt strangely blue about the missed opportunity for a connection with Brett, but she didn’t allow her attention to linger on the unfamiliar sentiment. Instead, she shrugged and turned to deliver a lecture about proper preparation to her subordinate.
*
Judge Langston made a quick exit through the door behind her bench. Brett grabbed the papers off her table, jammed them in her briefcase, and made a beeline through the clerk’s office so she could catch the judge in chambers before she shut her office door. Brett slipped into her office as the judge was hanging up her robe. Beneath the robe, she wore a smart tailored suit in deep crimson.
“Judge, may I talk to you for a moment?”
“Do we need Ms. Archer?” The judge referred to the prosecutor. Brett realized the judge thought she wanted to talk about the case she had just argued. She quickly assured her she wasn’t trying for an ex parte communication. “No, ma’am. I have a question about an altogether different matter.”
“All right then.” Judge Langston reached behind her desk for a tray containing a dainty china tea set. “Cup of tea?”
Brett smiled and nodded. She knew she was invading the judge’s standard morning break. Every day, no matter what was going on in the courtroom, she broke at ten thirty and retired to her chamber for a twenty-minute tea break. No one, including the judge’s coordinator, dared interrupt once the tea pouring began, but if you could catch her before she got started, you were likely to be invited to join. Tea with the judge was an invitation not to be declined.
Brett waited until the tea was poured and prepared. Finally, the judge took a deep sip, set her cup down, and leaned toward Brett. “What can I do for you, Ms. Logan?”
“Judge, if an individual was arrested for a serious crime and qualified as indigent, you would appoint counsel, correct?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“I do. Here’s a question I don’t know the answer to. If an individual committed a serious crime, but no one suspected them, yet they wanted to turn themselves in, would you appoint counsel before they had their first contact with anyone from law enforcement or the district’s attorney’s office?”
“This individual is indigent?”
“Yes.”
The judge revisited her teacup. Brett waited. She was well acquainted with Judge Langston’s habits. Thinking while drinking was one of her calling cards.
“How serious is this crime?”
“Capital murder.”
Langston didn’t flinch, but Brett caught a glint in her eye and realized the judge understood this whole line of questioning was not hypothetical.
“A logical course of action might be to talk to someone in the public defender’s office. They might be able to facilitate whatever this individual needs.”
The judge was right, and Brett had considered that option after Kenneth left her office the previous afternoon. A few clicks of her mouse later she learned the public defender’s office couldn’t help Kenneth Phillips. The Dallas County PD’s office had at least one attorney assigned to each court, but that wasn’t enough personnel to cover all the cases where defendants qualified for appointed counsel. To supplement the
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