Operation Greylord by Terrence Hake

cases, the jail is overcrowded as it is. You’ve put a scare into that woman [Bailey], she knows that next time she won’t be so lucky. If you decide to appeal, I really don’t give a shit. Do we understand each other?”
    â€œSure. But I want some time before I make a decision.”
    â€œThat’s fine. Whatever you say.”
    Olson had made himself clear, all right, but out of habit he did it in such a way that our conversation meant nothing on my tape.
    Later that day I agreed to drop marijuana possession charges against two of Costello’s clients. After the first, he stuffed a fifty-dollar bill in my suit jacket pocket and said, “You’re a super guy.” After the second, he playfully shoved another fifty into my empty cup as we stood in acoffee line at the cafeteria. “Jim!” I said. Dozens of people could have seen us. But to him, life in the courthouse was only a game.
    As I played along, I dropped only weak cases or ones where the defendant had played only a minor role, but I still hated seeing them walk free. Sometimes they smirked as if to say, “You and me are in the same business.” But they were not necessarily off for good. I kept the FBI informed so that the defendants could be approached later about providing evidence against their lawyers to avoid being brought up on federal counts.
    On a day I dropped charges against two more of Costello’s clients, he slid a hundred and fifty dollars into my pocket in the hallway. As we had drinks at Jeans the following day, he dropped a fifty-dollar bill into my lap for dismissing two more cases.
    In six weeks, Costello had given me five hundred dollars. And I wasn’t the only one on the payroll that he kept in his head. I saw him give a lockup keeper one hundred dollars to get into a cell and solicit clients before another lawyer could reach them. Jim handed other deputies fifty to sixty dollars for referring drug defendants to him. He dispensed money easily because he saw himself as a public benefactor and a great guy.
    Another time I was at Jeans with Costello, I mentioned that Olson had now twice called me back to his chambers to dissuade me from my plan to appeal his decision in the Celeste Bailey case.
    â€œYou got to understand that Yonan’s a money man,” Jim said. “Tell you what, I’ll talk to him for you.”
    â€œTell him I’m ‘okay.’ You know.” “Okay” meaning that I took bribes for favors.
    When the case was about to come up, Officers Stump and Opiola came looking for me. “Look,” Opiola said, “we really want this woman to do hard time, we don’t care what pressure you’re under.”
    Yonan seemed just as apprehensive about the Bailey case when he spoke to me briefly in the courtroom. He was relieved when I told him I would ask for a continuance. What they could not know was that this would give Costello time to talk to him about bribing me.
    After the continuance was granted, Costello wasted a beautiful September afternoon and evening by keeping me with him at the far end of Jeans long bar, and afterward we went to an Italian restaurant. The night seemed endless since I was only there to keep up my appearance as an ardent disciple, especially since I wasn’t picking up anything ontape that I could use. As we slowly spooled our pasta, Costello assured me that if I went into private practice I could save money by using his office and phone number until I was set up.
    As I finally was about to leave, Jim raised his glass of wine and slurred, “No, no, don’t go yet, I wanna propose a toast.”
    â€œTo what?”
    â€œHere’s to money!” Our glasses clanked.
    While Jim might have been dreaming of pinkie rings and a Mercedes, Cy Yonan, my new target, apparently spent the following weekend anguishing over whether I was crooked or not, since he had to be careful about bribing a prosecutor. He came back