The 17th Suspect (Women's Murder Club #17)(24)

The judge was in his fifties, bearded, and wearing glasses, suit pants, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a gold-and-green-striped tie. His office walls were hung with family photos and framed quotes from famous people, ranging from Ronald Reagan and John Wayne to Theodore Roosevelt and Mother Teresa. A sculpture of the scales of justice took up a corner of his desk, and he had a pretty good view of the traffic on Bryant Street under an overcast sky.

Rathburn was saying, “Margot, I said no. And if that doesn’t work for you, talk to your grandmother. I’m hanging up.”

Which he did.

He shouted out the open door to his assistant, “Beverly, no calls unless it’s James Giftos or my mother.”

Scowling, Rathburn came over to the seating area and took the ergonomic recliner, lowering the back a few degrees.

He said, “My back. Sciatica. Sorry about that call. My daughter backed out of the driveway into my mother’s car. Everyone’s okay. My daughter asked me to open an Uber account for her. Hah.”

Beverly stuck her head back in the doorway.

“Mr. Giftos is on the way up. And your mother’s on line two.”

“Excuse me again,” the judge said to Yuki and Art. “I’ll be right back.”

He left the room and closed the door behind him.

Yuki walked over to the wall with the quotes from two presidents, a great actor, and a saint. There was also one from Vince Lombardi, the Green Bay Packers’ legendary coach: “We would accomplish many more things if we did not think of them as impossible.”

Yuki rejoined Art, who quipped, “Seems like the judge is in a pretty good mood. Am I right?”

“I’m feeling lucky,” she said.

The door opened and Judge Rathburn came in, with James Giftos right behind him. Giftos nodded at Yuki as he and the judge settled in, all the parties facing one another across a coffee table.

Rathburn said, “Everyone know each other? Good.”

He reached under the coffee table to the shelf beneath it, pulled out a sparkly stick about two feet long, and shook it a couple of times.

“This is my magic wand. I use it to solve those problems that can’t get fixed any other way. Don’t make me use it. All right?”

He dropped the wand onto the coffee table.

“All right, then,” said Judge Rathburn. “Let’s get to it.”





CHAPTER 34


THE ESTIMABLE JUDGE Kevin Rathburn and opposing counsel in the case against Briana Hill were sitting around the coffee table in the judge’s chambers, ready to discuss the critical issue.

Rathburn said, “James, you filed a motion to exclude the video of the alleged rape. Talk about that.”

Giftos said, “The prosecution claims that my client, Ms. Hill, raped Mr. Christopher. The alleged victim recorded this sex act. We contend that this so-called sexual abuse was a game designed by the so-called victim himself. Mr. Christopher’s pregame setup is not in the video, and therefore it does not accurately reflect what happened that night.”

“I see,” said Rathburn. “Ms. Castellano? You say what?”

“Judge, Mr. Christopher is a victim, no ‘so-called’ about it. Ms. Hill had aimed her gun at his head. He most definitely did not design a game to be raped. As shown in the recording, he protested throughout the sex act, which was clearly not consensual. And that’s why Mr. Giftos wants this evidence excluded.”

Rathburn leaned back in his recliner and stared at a place above the bookcases on the opposite wall. After a minute he righted his chair.

“I’m going to allow the video. James, you’re free to attack its accuracy during the trial.”

Yuki exhaled, but Giftos leaned forward and said, “Your Honor, I move for a change of venue.”

Yuki had been afraid of this, had worried about it. Change of venue meant that the case would leave San Francisco, and if Marc Christopher still wished to press charges, she would be reading about the trial like every other person in the world. She really wanted to try this case.

Rathburn said, “Really, James? And why would I grant that motion?”

“Because the press has been all over this, Your Honor.”

Giftos opened his briefcase, took out a folder, and put it down on the coffee table. Then the shark criminal defense attorney fanned out the papers.

“I’ve collected some of the articles and blog posts about Ms. Hill, who has already been painted as the villain,” Giftos said. “The public has her tied to the stake and is ready to light her up. We will not be able to find an unbiased jury.”

Rathburn said, “Ms. Castellano?”

Yuki said, “Your Honor, if Ms. Hill can’t get a fair trial in San Francisco, where can she get a fair trial? As Mr. Giftos knows full well, if the story is out, it’s out. The internet isn’t restricted to this city, and pretrial noise is just fake news. Ms. Hill is sometimes painted as the villain. And sometimes Mr. Christopher is the baddie. It’s even steven.”

Rathburn looked impatient and somewhat distracted. Would he decide to send the case elsewhere? Or, like most judges, would he want to preside over what was looking to be a high-profile case, with all of the valuable publicity that would accrue to him?

He adjusted his chair, placed his feet firmly on the floor, and said, “Okay, here it is. The case stays in this jurisdiction. The two of you, with my help, will pick a jury untainted by gossip and chatter. We’re all capable of doing that.