“Did you have advance knowledge that I would be leaving that lot without a rear plate on my car?”
“No.”
“You weren’t there in that spot specifically to pull me over?”
“No, I was not.”
Berg stood and objected, saying I was badgering Milton by asking him the same question in different ways. The judge agreed and told me to move on.
I looked down at the lectern at the notes I had written in red ink.
“No further questions, Your Honor,” I said.
The judge looked slightly confused by my examination and its abrupt end.
“Are you sure, Mr. Haller?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Very well. Does the state have recross?”
Berg also seemed confused by my questioning of Milton. Thinking I had done no damage, she told the judge she had no further questions. The judge shifted her focus back to me.
“Do you have another witness, Mr. Haller?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Very well. Arguments?”
“Judge, my argument is submitted.”
“Nothing further? You don’t want to at least connect the dots for us after your examination of the witness?”
“Submitted, Your Honor.”
“Does the state wish to argue?”
Berg stood at her table and raised her hands as if to ask what there was to argue, then said she would go with her written response to my motion.
“Then the court is prepared to rule,” Warfield said. “The motion is denied and this court is in recess.”
The judge had spoken matter-of-factly. And I could hear whispers and sense the letdown of those in the courtroom. It was as though there was a collective What? from those in the gallery.
But I was pleased. I didn’t want to win the motion. I wanted to cut down the prosecution’s tree at trial and win the case. And I had just made the first swing of the ax.
9
We came into the three o’clock meeting with good spirits, despite the surroundings. Not only had we accomplished what we wanted to get done and on the record in the court hearing that morning, but both Jennifer and Cisco said they had good news to share. I told Jennifer to go first.
“Okay, you remember Andre La Cosse?” she asked.
“Of course I do,” I said. “My finest hour.”
It was true. The State of California versus Andre La Cosse might as well be etched on my tombstone at the end of my days. It was the case I was proudest of. An innocent man with the entire weight of the justice system against him charged with murder, and I walked him. And it wasn’t just an NG. It was the rarest of all birds in the justice system. It was the Big I. My work in trial had proved him innocent. So much so that the state paid damages for their malfeasance in charging him in the first place.
“What about him?” I asked.
“Well, he saw something about your case online and he wants to help,” Jennifer said.
“Help how?”
“Mickey, don’t you get it? You got him a seven-figure settlement for wrongful prosecution. He wants to return the favor. He called up Lorna and said he could go up to two hundred on bail.”
I was a bit stunned. Andre had barely survived the case while being held in this same place—Twin Towers—while we were in trial, and I had negotiated a settlement for him in compensation. I had taken a third, but that was seven years ago and it was long gone. He had apparently done better with his money and was now willing to chip off some of what he had in order to spring me.
“He knows he doesn’t get it back, right?” I said. “Two hundred out the window. That’s a big chunk of the money I got him.”
“He knows,” Jennifer said. “And he hasn’t just been sitting on that money. He invested it. Lorna said he’s into the whole crypto-currency thing and he says the settlement was only seed money. It has grown. A lot. He’s offering the two hundred, no strings attached. I want to go in and set up a bail hearing. We get Warfield to knock it down to two and a half or three million—where it should be—and you walk out of here.”
I nodded. Andre’s money could go for a 10 percent bond against the set bail. But there was a problem.
“That’s very generous of Andre, but I don’t think that’ll get it done,” I said. “Berg’s not going to roll over and play dead on a sixty percent reduction on bail. I don’t think Warfield will either. If Andre really wants to kick in, maybe we talk about using his money for expert witnesses, exhibits, and everybody on staff getting paid for the overtime they’re putting in.”
“No, boss,” Cisco said.
“We thought about that,” Jennifer said. “And there’s somebody else who wants to help. Another donor.”
“Who?” I said.
“Harry Bosch,” she said.
“No way,” I said. “He’s a retired cop, for god’s sake. He can’t—”
“Mickey, you got him a million-dollar settlement from the city last year and didn’t even take a cut. He wants—”
“I didn’t take a cut, because he might need that money. He’s going to max out his insurance and then he’ll need it. Besides, I set up a trust and he put it in there.”
“Look, Mickey, he can tap it or borrow against it,” Jennifer insisted. “The point is, you have to get out of here. Not only is it dangerous in this place, but you’re losing weight, you don’t look good, and your health is at risk. Remember what Legal Siegel used to say? ‘Look like a winner and you’ll become a winner’? You don’t look like a winner, Mickey. You can tailor your suits but you still look pale and sick. You need to get out of here and get yourself in shape for trial.”
“He actually said, ‘Act like a winner and you’ll be a winner.’ ”
“Doesn’t matter. Same thing. This is your chance. These people came to us. We didn’t go to them. In fact, Andre said he came because he saw you on TV from that last hearing and it reminded him of himself when he was in here.”
I nodded. I knew she was right. But I hated taking the money, especially from Bosch, my half brother, who I knew needed it for other things.
“Not only that, but you need to get home for Christmas and see your daughter,” Jennifer said. “This no-visitation thing is hurting her as much as it must hurt you.”
She nailed me with her final argument. I missed my daughter, missed her voice.
“Okay, I hear you,” I said.
“Good,” Jennifer said.
“I think we might be able to knock the bail down to three million,” I said. “But that’s probably it.”
“We can cover three million,” Jennifer said.
“Okay, set it up,” I said. “Don’t give any hint that we can go up to three million. I want Berg to think we’re coming in hat in hand. She’ll think dropping bail a couple million will still probably keep me in stir. We ask for one million and she compromises at two or three.”
“Right,” Jennifer said.
“And one last thing,” I said. “Are you sure Harry and Andre came in voluntarily with this? It wasn’t the other way around?”