A Good Marriage(21)

And with a pound of his gavel, that was all.

“This is fucking bullshit,” the defendant roared at Adam as he was being dragged away. “You suck, you fucking asshole.”

I watched Adam’s shoulders sink.

It was only eleven thirty when the lunch recess was called. I waited until Adam had gathered his things, then followed him out the door.

“Adam Rothstein,” I called after him in the crowded lobby area.

Adam paused, bracing himself, it seemed, for yet another scolding—from a prosecutor, a client’s family. Finally he took a deep breath and turned back, forcing a weak smile.

“Yes?”

“I’m a friend of Zach Grayson’s,” I began, not able to bring myself to say I was his attorney.

Adam tilted his head for a second, as if trying to place the name. Surely he had dozens of new cases every day. To my astonishment, it took him only a second.

“Of course, yes, Zach,” he said. He stepped toward me with a concerned face. “Did you know his wife? Such an awful thing.”

“No. I’m a law school classmate of Zach’s. I used to be in the Southern District’s fraud unit. But I’m with a firm now. Zach asked me to take over the case. I don’t have experience in state court or with violent crimes of any kind, but—”

“Great, I’ll get you the file,” Adam said. “If you were with the Southern District, then you can definitely handle this. Besides, you and I both know it’s the resources that matter. I care about my clients like they’re family.” He hesitated, considered. “Ask my wife. She says it’s twisted. But one expensive expert witness is worth a hundred times any amount of dedication, or experience.”

“Your clients are lucky to have you.”

“If only good intentions were enough,” Adam said. “Look at Zach. He should be out on bail.”

“You’re right about that,” I said. “We plan to file a habeas writ. Anything you can tell me about the arraignment would be helpful.”

Adam peeked in through the glass window to a small room marked “Attorney Conference.” Having confirmed it was empty, he held the door open.

“Why don’t we step in here?” He waited until we were inside with the door closed before speaking again. “The judge based his bail decision largely on the brutality of the scene. The DA managed to get some pictures in front of him.”

“Well, that’s totally prejudicial,” I said. Prejudicial, but not especially shocking.

“Yeah, exactly,” he huffed. “It was an assaulting-an-officer charge, and there they were showing photos of this bloody crime scene with this beautiful blond woman in the center. But the prosecution argued I’d put the scene at issue because I’d mentioned Zach’s emotional distress over his wife being killed. Next thing you know, the judge is looking at the pictures so he could assess whether that was a valid defense.” He shook his head in disgust. “Mind you, none of this should have been relevant at a bail hearing where the only issue to begin with should have been—”

“Risk of flight,” I finished his thought. But I knew the game the prosecutor had been playing. I’d played it myself.

“Exactly, flight,” Adam said. “The judge laid eyes on the pictures, and we were done. They’ll hold him until they charge him with murder.”

I crossed my arms. “But this is Rikers. It’s someone’s life.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to snatch them right back.

Predictably, Adam’s face hardened. “It’s always somebody’s life.” And of course he was right. “Listen, I’d file that writ quickly. Once they’ve charged him with murder, you’ll have no shot for bail. And the grand jury will indict. His fingerprints are sure to be on that golf club. It belonged to him. Toss in some creative blood spatter analysis and some petty marital problems, and they’ve got a slam-dunk.”

“Marital problems?” I asked. “Did Zach tell you that?”

“No, but he was married, right?” Adam said wryly. “What marriage doesn’t have problems?” He stood, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, and get that outstanding warrant resolved, too. It wasn’t dispositive to the bail issue, but it definitely didn’t help.”

“Warrant?” My neck felt hot.

“Zach said it must have been a mistake,” Adam said, his tone equivocal. “And all the prosecution would tell us—all they claimed to be able to tell us—was that the warrant was issued out of Philadelphia and that it was from thirteen years back on an unpaid code violation, not even a misdemeanor. But nothing from back then is computerized, so no one had access to exactly what code was violated. Zach didn’t remember it at all, but he had to acknowledge that he did live in Philly at the time. And since the judge had already seen the pictures, that was enough for him.”

“And you found Zach’s surprise about the warrant credible?”

Adam considered the question for a long moment, which I found reassuring. “Zach seemed genuinely surprised, yes,” he said finally. “He even demanded proof. In my experience, liars don’t usually go that far. It could be for something as stupid as an unpaid noise complaint, too. He was a student at the time. I looked into discharging it myself, but with something that old, you have to do it in person in Philadelphia, which wasn’t in the cards for me personally. But your firm could send someone, right? I’d also find out which DA is driving this case and why. These judges hate getting yanked around for bullshit reasons. That alone might get Zach another shot at bail.”