lawyer but you can’t lie to me. I can read it. So one more time, where were you? You don’t tell me and I’m out of here. What’s it going to be?”
Foster lowered his eyes to the table. Bosch waited him out. He could tell Foster was about to break and tell the story.
“All right,” he said. “This is the deal. I was up there in Hollywood. And I was with someone, not my wife.”
“Okay,” Bosch said. “Who is she?”
“Not a she,” Foster said.
12
H aller missed the entire session with Foster. He was either a celebrity lawyer or a notorious lawyer, depending on how you looked at it. He had received the ultimate imprimatur of L.A. acceptance—a movie about one of his cases starring no less than Matthew McConaughey. He had also run for district attorney in the last election cycle and lost the race because of a scandal that erupted when a client he had previously cleared of a DUI charge killed two people and himself while driving drunk. So either way he was news, and the officers at city jail helpfully stalled his release until the media could be fully notified of his arrest, his mug shot could be uploaded to the Internet, and an assemblage of reporters, photographers, and videographers could muster outside the jail’s release door to document his walk of shame.
Bosch accompanied Jennifer Aronson, acting as Haller’s lawyer, into the jail to warn him about what awaited outside. She had a plan that involved Bosch pulling up to the door in his Cherokee and allowing Haller to step out quickly and jump in the back. Bosch would then speed away. But Haller said he wanted no part in such a cowardly exit. Once he collected his personal property, he pulled the tie out of his suit pocket and clipped it on. He smoothed it down on his chest and then stepped through the release door with his chin held high. He walked directly to the media cluster, waited a beat until all lenses were focused and microphones positioned, and then started speaking.
“I just want to say that I have been the target of law enforcement intimidation practices,” he began. “But I am not intimidated. I was set up and taken down. I was not driving while intoxicated and there is no evidence that I was. I’ll be fighting these charges and will ultimately be proven innocent. They will not deter me from the work I do defending the underdogs of our society. Thank you.”
There was a clamor of voices as questions were hurled at him. Bosch heard one woman’s deep voice drown out the others.
“Why are they trying to intimidate you?”
“I don’t know yet,” Haller said. “I have a number of cases in which I plan to put the police on trial in defense of my client. They know that. This could have come from any quarter, as far as I’m concerned.”
The same woman yelled a follow-up.
“Could it have anything to do with the Lexi Parks case?”
“I don’t know,” Haller said. “I just know that what was done to me was not right. And it will be corrected.”
Another reporter called out. Bosch recognized him from the
Times
but couldn’t remember his name. But he had sources in the police department and usually had valid information.
“Your blood was drawn at Queen of Angels,” he said. “The blood-alcohol content was measured at point-one-one, according to the LAPD. That is beyond the legal limit.”
Haller nodded as though he knew what was coming and relished the chance to attack the accusation.
“The measurement was point-oh-six—check your source on that, Tyler,” he said. “The LAPD then used a faulty B-A-C extrapolation formula to push it past to the point-oh-eight threshold at the time of arrest. This formula will not bear the scrutiny of the courts and I will be exonerated.”
Bosch needed to go get the car and bring it around but he wanted to watch Haller work. He had such ease and control with the crowd of reporters. Unintimidated, undaunted. Bosch marveled at it. No wonder he was a killer in front of a
Foster lowered his eyes to the table. Bosch waited him out. He could tell Foster was about to break and tell the story.
“All right,” he said. “This is the deal. I was up there in Hollywood. And I was with someone, not my wife.”
“Okay,” Bosch said. “Who is she?”
“Not a she,” Foster said.
12
H aller missed the entire session with Foster. He was either a celebrity lawyer or a notorious lawyer, depending on how you looked at it. He had received the ultimate imprimatur of L.A. acceptance—a movie about one of his cases starring no less than Matthew McConaughey. He had also run for district attorney in the last election cycle and lost the race because of a scandal that erupted when a client he had previously cleared of a DUI charge killed two people and himself while driving drunk. So either way he was news, and the officers at city jail helpfully stalled his release until the media could be fully notified of his arrest, his mug shot could be uploaded to the Internet, and an assemblage of reporters, photographers, and videographers could muster outside the jail’s release door to document his walk of shame.
Bosch accompanied Jennifer Aronson, acting as Haller’s lawyer, into the jail to warn him about what awaited outside. She had a plan that involved Bosch pulling up to the door in his Cherokee and allowing Haller to step out quickly and jump in the back. Bosch would then speed away. But Haller said he wanted no part in such a cowardly exit. Once he collected his personal property, he pulled the tie out of his suit pocket and clipped it on. He smoothed it down on his chest and then stepped through the release door with his chin held high. He walked directly to the media cluster, waited a beat until all lenses were focused and microphones positioned, and then started speaking.
“I just want to say that I have been the target of law enforcement intimidation practices,” he began. “But I am not intimidated. I was set up and taken down. I was not driving while intoxicated and there is no evidence that I was. I’ll be fighting these charges and will ultimately be proven innocent. They will not deter me from the work I do defending the underdogs of our society. Thank you.”
There was a clamor of voices as questions were hurled at him. Bosch heard one woman’s deep voice drown out the others.
“Why are they trying to intimidate you?”
“I don’t know yet,” Haller said. “I have a number of cases in which I plan to put the police on trial in defense of my client. They know that. This could have come from any quarter, as far as I’m concerned.”
The same woman yelled a follow-up.
“Could it have anything to do with the Lexi Parks case?”
“I don’t know,” Haller said. “I just know that what was done to me was not right. And it will be corrected.”
Another reporter called out. Bosch recognized him from the
Times
but couldn’t remember his name. But he had sources in the police department and usually had valid information.
“Your blood was drawn at Queen of Angels,” he said. “The blood-alcohol content was measured at point-one-one, according to the LAPD. That is beyond the legal limit.”
Haller nodded as though he knew what was coming and relished the chance to attack the accusation.
“The measurement was point-oh-six—check your source on that, Tyler,” he said. “The LAPD then used a faulty B-A-C extrapolation formula to push it past to the point-oh-eight threshold at the time of arrest. This formula will not bear the scrutiny of the courts and I will be exonerated.”
Bosch needed to go get the car and bring it around but he wanted to watch Haller work. He had such ease and control with the crowd of reporters. Unintimidated, undaunted. Bosch marveled at it. No wonder he was a killer in front of a
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