The Client (Page 59)
Though she’d seen it many times, the sight of a child scared and suffering was unbearable. She couldn’t keep from crying too.
Chapter 24
1 WO DEPUTIES ESCORTED HIM INTO THE COURTROOM from a side door, away from the main hallway where the curious were known to lurk, but Slick Moeller anticipated this little maneuver and watched it all from behind a newspaper just a few feet away.
Reggie followed her client and the deputies. Glint waited outside. It was almost a quarter after noon, and the jungle of Juvenile Court had quieted a bit for lunch.
The courtroom was of a shape and design Mark had never seen on television. It was so small! And empty. There were no benches or seats for spectators. The judge sat behind an elevated structure between two flags with the wall just behind him. Two tables were in the center of the room, facing the judge, and one was already occupied with men in dark suits. To the judge’s right was a tiny table where an older woman was nipping through a stack of papers, very bored with it all, it seemed, until he entered the room. A gorgeous young lady sat ready with a stenographic machine directly in front of the judge’s bench. She wore a short skirt and her legs were attracting a lot of attention. She couldn’t be older than sixteen, he thought as he followed Reggie to their table. A bailiff with a gun on his hip was the final actor in the play.
Mark took his seat, very much aware that everyone was staring at him. His two deputies left the room, and when the door closed behind them the judge picked up the file again and flipped through it. They had been waiting for the juvenile and his lawyer, and now it was time for everyone to wait for the judge again. Rules of courtroom etiquette must be followed.
Reggie pulled a single legal pad from her briefcase and began writing notes. She held a tissue in one hand, and dabbed her eyes with it. Mark stared at the table, eyes still wet but determined to suck it up and be tough through this ordeal. People were watching.
Fink and Ord stared at the court reporter’s legs. The skirt was halfway between knee and hip. It was tight and seemed to slide upward just a fraction of an inch every minute or so. The tripod holding her recording machine sat firmly between her knees. In the coziness of Harry’s courtroom, she was fewer than ten feet away, and the last thing they needed was a distraction. But they kept staring. There! It slipped upward another quarter of an inch.
Baxter L. McLemore, a young attorney fresh from law school, sat nervously at the table with Mr. Fink and Mr. Ord. He was a lowly assistant with the county attorney general’s office, and it had fallen to his lot to prosecute on this day in Juvenile Court. This was certainly not the glamorous end of prosecution, but sitting next to George Ord was quite a thrill. He knew nothing about the Sway case, and Mr. Ord had explained in the hallway just minutes earlier that Mr. Fink would handle the hearing. With the court’s permission, of course. Baxter was expected to sit there and look nice, and keep his mouth shut.
"Is the door locked?" the judge finally asked in the general direction of the bailiff.
"Yes sir." "Very well. I have reviewed the petition, and I am ready to proceed. For the record, I note the child is present along with counsel, and that the child’s mother, who is alleged to be his custodial parent, was served with a copy of the petition and a summons this morning. However, the child’s mother is not present in the courtroom, and this concerns me." Harry paused for a moment and seemed to read from the file.
Fink decided this was the appropriate time to establish himself in this matter, and he stood slowly, buttoning his jacket, and addressed the court. "Your Honor, if I may, for the record, I’m Thomas Fink, Assistant U. S. Attorney for the Southern District of Louisiana." Harry’s gaze slowly left the file and settled on Fink, who was standing stiff-backed, very formal, frowning intelligently as he spoke, still fiddling with the top button of his jacket.
Fink continued. "I am one of the petitioners in this matter, and, if I may, I would like to address the issue of the presence of the child’s mother." Harry said nothing, just stared as if in disbelief. Reggie couldn’t help but smile. She winked at Baxter McLemore.
Harry leaned forward, and rested on his elbows as if intrigued by these great words of wisdom flowing from this gifted legal mind.
Fink had found an audience. "Your Honor, it’s our position, the position of the petitioners, that this matter is of a nature so urgent that this hearing must take place immediately. The child is represented by counsel, quite competent counsel I might add, and none of the child’s legal rights will be prejudiced by the absence of his mother. From what we understand, the mother’s presence is required by the bedside of her youngest son, and so, well, who knows when she might be able to attend a hearing. We just think it’s important, Your Honor, to proceed immediately with this hearing." "You don’t say?" Harry asked.
"Yes sir. This is our position." "Your position, Mr. Fink," Harry said very slowly and very loudly with a pointed finger, "is in that chair right there. Please sit, and listen to me very carefully, because I will say this only once. And if I have to say it again, I will do so as they are putting the handcuffs on you and taking you away for a night in our splendid jail." Fink fell into his chair, mouth open, gaping in disbelief.
Harry scowled over his reading glasses and looked straight down at Thomas Fink. "Listen to me, Mr. Fink. This is not some fancy courtroom in New Orleans, and I am not one of your federal judges. This is my little private courtroom, and I make the rules,-Mr. Fink. Rule number one is that you speak in my courtroom only when you are first spoken to by me. Rule number two is that you do not grace his honor with unsolicited speeches, comments, or remarks. Rule number three is that his honor does not like to hear the voices of lawyers. His honor has been hearing these voices for twenty years, and his honor knows how lawyers love to hear themselves talk. Rule number four is that you do not stand in my courtroom. You sit at that table and say as little as possible. Do you understand these rules, Mr. Fink?" Fink stared blankly at Harry and tried to nod.
Harry wasn’t finished. "This is a tiny courtroom, Mr. Fink, designed by myself a long time ago for private hearings. We can all see and hear each other just fine, so just keep your mouth shut and your butt in your seat, and we’ll get along fine." Fink was still trying to nod. He gripped the arms of the chair, determined never to rise again. Behind him, McThune, the lawyer hater, barely suppressed a smile.
"Mr. McLemore, I understand Mr. Fink wants to handle this case for the prosecution. Is this agreeable?" "Okay with me, Your Honor." "I’ll allow it. But try and keep him in his seat." Mark was terrified. He had hoped for a kind, gentle old man with lots of love and sympathy. Not this. He glanced at Mr. Fink, whose neck was crimson and whose breathing was loud and heavy, and he almost felt sorry for him.
"Ms. Love," the judge said, suddenly very warm and compassionate, "I understand you may have an objection on behalf of the child." "Yes, Your Honor." She leaned forward and spoke deliberately in the direction of the court reporter. "We have several objections we’d like to make at this time, and I want them in the record." "Certainly," Harry said, as if Reggie Love could have anything she wanted. Fink sank lower and felt even dumber. So much for impressing the court with an initial burst of eloquence.
Reggie glanced at her notes. "Your Honor, I request the transcript of these proceedings be typed and prepared as soon as possible to facilitate an emergency appeal if necessary." "So ordered." "I object to this hearing on several grounds. First, inadequate notice has been given to the child, his mother, and to his lawyer. About three hours have passed since the petition was served upon the child’s mother, and though I have represented the child for three days now, and everyone involved has known this, I was not notified of this hearing until seventy-five minutes ago. This is unfair, absurd, and an abuse of discretion by the court." "When would you like to have the hearing, Ms. Love?" Harry asked.