The Victim (40 page)

“
So she was physically arrested?” Jack asked. “Usually this type of bullshit shoplifting warrants a written promise to appear, not a ride in the back of a patrol car.”

“
It’s a petty theft,” Anton said, skimming the narrative portion of the barely legible arrest affidavit. The author had the penmanship of a toddler. “Looks like sixty-one dollars and change worth of makeup stolen from a CVS.” He squinted, trying to make out the chicken scratch. No wonder Lola’s last name was misspelled by the clerk’s office. “Typical. She grabs the items off the shelf, stuffs them in her purse, and walks out. Store security watches on closed circuit TV, stops her as she’s heading outside. Calls the cops and they arrest her.” He ran his finger up to the top of the page, the portion that listed the biographical information of the accused. “Cop probably took her into custody because where it says ‘address’ the arresting officer wrote ‘refused.’ She wouldn’t give her address to the cop. That would be why he had to physically arrest her. You can only issue a promise to appear for a misdemeanor if the defendant can provide an address.”

Jack hovered over the file, placing his finger on the date of arrest. “January 10, 2003, was the arrest date.” He panned over to the left side of the file, eyeing the date on the bond receipt. “This is a receipt for a cash bond. Five hundred dollars. She didn’t use the services of a bail bondsman. But the cash bond was paid on January 18, 2003. She was in custody on this charge for eight days.”

“
And no missing persons report was ever filed?”

Jack ran his palm through his hair. “Jeez, not that I can recall. The only missing persons report that was filed was the one her mother called in four days before Ozzie was arrested.”

“
You said Lola’s mother testified at Ozzie’s trial, right?”

“
Of course. Government had to establish that Lola was dead.”

“
Her mother never mentioned that her daughter had been locked up in Flagstaff for a week two months earlier?” Anton shook his head. “Hell, she probably didn’t even know about it.”

“
I didn’t know about it.”

Anton sensed the defeat in Jack’s voice. Failure came with the territory in criminal defense. No matter how skilled or how trial seasoned, no defense attorney could save every client that came their way. It was Jack who had told him during those difficult first months in private practice that you hadn’t really been a defense attorney until you had a client serving life in prison.

Every defense attorney accepted the fact that they would lose cases during the course of their career. But Jack’s regrets were rooted not in the conviction itself but in the details he had missed. Times had changed. The whole world had gone digital. Jack hadn’t thought to use the Internet to locate old witnesses or research criminal records through online databases. Jack was old school—a courtroom brawler who could try a murder case with nothing more than a pen and a legal pad. A man who had tried his first case in 1968 and relied upon the same methods of persuasion and theatrics when trying cases forty-six years later.

Anton removed the bond receipt from the file so that the deputy clerk could make a copy. The name of the bond depositor was someone named Frank Wheaton.

“
Jack?”

“
What?”

“
What was Lola’s father’s name? The biker who got killed near Nogales?”

“
Danny Wheaton.”

“
Guy with the same last name pays five hundred bucks to bond her out of jail.” Anton flipped back the pages to the judgment and sentence. “She came back for her court date a month later, pleaded no contest. Sentenced to time served and ordered to pay court costs. So we know she was back up in Flagstaff in February of ’03. This corroborates Earl’s story that Lola was with him for months leading up to her death. She never went home.”

Anton removed the judgment and sentence from the file—a multipage document that contained Lola’s signed plea waiver, the fingerprints that were taken in court by the bailiff, and the assessment of court costs.

Anton stacked the pages neatly together and walked them to the window where the deputy clerk made copies. He paid the charge with his business Visa and stuffed his copies in his briefcase.

“
But Lola’s mother testified that she ran away in March of 2003,” Jack said as they walked toward the elevator.

“
She lied, Jack. More importantly, she lied under oath.”

CHAPTER 43

The hearing was impromptu and without prior scheduling but Judge Cristina Pena was happy to entertain the motion. She sat at her long teak desk in her chambers, the walls adorned with plaques from various civic organizations, recognizing Her Honor for her invaluable contributions to the people of Miami-Dade County. Photos of her middle-school daughters clad in softball and soccer uniforms filled store-bought frames on her bookshelves.

Anton had forgotten just how short Judge Pena was. It had been quite a few years since he was the B prosecutor in her courtroom, back when Jeanette, her JA, would make Cuban coffee and he and the PDs assigned to the division would go over plea offers in the hopes of closing out some of the cases on the morning’s arraignment calendar. Without her three-inch heels she was maybe five feet. Certainly shorter than Daniella. Perhaps seated on the bench she seemed much taller. She had sharp, pointed features and a button nose. As had been the case with judicial appointments to the Miami-Dade Circuit Court over the past ten years, she was remarkably young, maybe in her early forties.

Her robe hung on a hook behind her door. She wore a white blouse and a black pencil skirt. She shook her head, conflicted by the information Anton had given her.

“
Look, Mr. Mackey,” she began, addressing Anton, who was seated in one of the two burgundy leather chairs in front of Her Honor’s desk. Sylvia occupied the other. “I’m really troubled by what I’m hearing. On one hand, I care about you as a person and am quite disturbed that you were physically threatened the way you were. On the other, I have a hell of a case before me and the attorney who’s been handling it for the past four years wants to withdraw. I can’t let this thing go on much longer. Yes, there were some outstanding discovery matters,” she raised her eyebrows at Sylvia, “but realistically, this thing needs to be tried or pled out within the next few months. What am I supposed to do, reappoint the public defender and tell them they have six months to prep this case for trial, on top of the hundred other serious felonies they’re handling?”

Anton opened his mouth to respond but Sylvia beat him to it.

“
Frankly, Your Honor, I’m wondering why the police weren’t called, why no report was made, why Mr. Mackey didn’t seek medical attention. I can’t help but wonder whether Mr. Mackey and his client have devised some type of scheme to further delay this case.”

Anton shot her a scowl. “So now you’re accusing me of lying to the court? And colluding with my client to perpetrate a fraud, no less? That’s a new low, even for you.”

Judge Pena held up her palms. “Hey. Both of you. Knock it off. Ms. Kaplan, I’ve known Mr. Mackey since he was an ASA assigned to my division. He’s tried at least twenty serious felonies in front of me, handled hundreds of cases through pleas and other stages of litigation. I have nothing but respect for him and his integrity and I know that he has always been and always will be candid with the court. Mr. Mackey,” she turned to Anton. “You didn’t make a police report?”

Anton cringed a bit at the integrity comment. His recitation of the attack had been accurate with a few omissions. He didn’t mention stabbing one of the attackers in the neck with his pen, not fearing that he had done anything wrong by defending himself; he just didn’t want to complicate things.

“
Your Honor, I’m a criminal defense attorney. I make a living defending those who have been subjected to arrest and prosecution. As a matter of principle, I didn’t want to drag these two misguided young men through the justice system. I’m not a vindictive man, Judge. Luckily I wasn’t hurt and was able to fight them off and get away. Even had I called the police, I couldn’t pick the two of them out of a photo lineup. All I know is that they were members of Paid In Full, a notoriously violent Liberty City drug gang to whom my client pledges his allegiance. That’s no secret.

“
Based on a conversation I had with my client a few days before this attack, it was brought to my attention that he was dissatisfied with the level of attention I was giving his case. A few days later, some of his gang associates targeted my car and physically assaulted me. Clearly my involvement in this case has painted a target on my back. Given the press coverage in this case, I figured it prudent that I make an
ore tenus
motion to withdraw as Mr. Arrington’s attorney in chambers, not in open court. Mr. Arrington still has a right to receive a fair trial in this county and I believe that if the information that I’m sharing now were to be made public, the chances of finding an impartial jury would be slim to none. Above all, I just don’t feel safe representing him, Judge.”

Sylvia’s lips parted as if to retort, but her brain caught up with her mouth. She held her words, at the very least saving them for when she could corner Anton privately.

Judge Pena held up her hands in surrender. “I have no reason not to believe you, Mr. Mackey. I would never force an attorney to continue to represent somebody if he didn’t feel safe, especially after experiencing a credible threat of harm by your client’s associates. I find good cause for withdrawal and I’ll grant your motion. I’ll reappoint the public defender and we’ll leave the press to speculate, I guess.”

“
I’ll email a press release, Judge,” Anton said. “I’ll say that I could no longer dedicate my full attention to this matter and that Mr. Arrington would be better served by other counsel.”

The judge nodded, satisfied that it wasn’t an altogether incorrect explanation.

The judge stood, as did Anton and Sylvia. They followed her out into the hallway where her bailiff led her into her courtroom. They could hear his booming voice instructing those present to
all rise.
However, the defense attorneys who had been waiting impatiently for the past twenty minutes were already standing in line behind the podium.

Anton and Sylvia exited out into the main hallway and walked side by side without uttering a word. Anton checked his watch. It was almost ten and the militarily prompt Judge Sonia Morales would want to know where they had been. As long as he told her they had business before Judge Pena, Morales would inquire no further.

“
So, you withdraw from Arrington and demand a speedy for Avery?” Sylvia asked, taking long, determined strides across the floor. The Avery file—the thick Redweld—was under her arm. She stepped onto the escalator. Anton followed.

“
What’s it matter to you?” Anton questioned.

“
Oh, it doesn’t,” she said, her voice jumping a sarcastic octave. “I just think filing a speedy demand only weeks after a life felony is arraigned is a bar complaint waiting to happen.”

They rode in silence up to the sixth floor. When they stepped off the escalator Anton hung back, letting Sylvia enter the courtroom a few steps before him. He stepped into the glass vestibule and into the courtroom. The traffic had thinned, which was good. Anton knew he was making a huge mistake by going along with the speedy demand and he didn’t want his fellow defense attorneys to see it. Stuff like that always wound up on the Justice Building Blog.

Bryan Avery was the only inmate seated in the jury box. Obviously most of the calendar was finished and the other in-custodies had been taken back to the bridge. The division PDs were packing up their files by the time Anton walked in. The ASAs seated at the prosecution table appeared to be doing the same. Had Morales finished her whole calendar in one hour? Anton panned the gallery. He didn’t see any police officers or victim-witness counselors. Clearly, no trial was scheduled. Ten a.m. and her day was over.

Sylvia was already waiting at the podium.

“
Mr. Mackey, you do know that my calendar starts at nine, right?” Judge Morales asked, again with that preschool teacher tone.

“
My apologies, Your Honor. Ms. Kaplan and I had some prior business before Judge Pena.”

“
Well, please try to be on time from now on,” she said, always getting the last word.

Anton forced a cordial smile. Having never spent a day in private practice Sonia Morales had no idea what it was like to have to be in two places at the same time.