Final Exam: A Legal Thriller (17 page)

Ben feigned a look of amazement.
 
“Why, I don’t know what you mean?
  
We brought her in as soon as we could.
 
But look,” he said getting serious, “she’s got a little kid at home.
 
I don’t think it benefits anybody to have a little kid see his Mom dragged off in handcuffs.”
 

Fahey considered this for a moment.
 
“Perhaps not,” she said finally.
 
After another moment, she said, “I take it you’ll be seeking bail for your client?”
 

“Of course,” Ben said.
 
“Toward that end, I have a copy of my appearance, motion and brief in support of bail.”
 
He handed a small stack of documents to her.
 
“I also have a copy of all the cases we cited in our brief, if you’d like those.”
 

“Please,” she said taking the pleadings from him.
 

He handed her a three-inch stack of cases held together by a rubber band.
 
“What’s your position on bail?” he asked.
 

“We’re opposed to it.
 
Here, I’ve also written a brief on the subject.”
 
Hers was considerably thicker than his, Ben realized when he took it from her.
 

“Just slapped this thing together at the last minute, did you?” Ben asked.
 

“Something
like
that.”
 

“So that’s your position, no bail under any circumstances?”
 

“Unless the judge tells us otherwise.”
 

“He will,” Ben said.
 

“We’ll see, Counselor.
 
You haven’t been here in a while.”
 

“No, but I walk with God now.
 
Are we going first?” he asked.
 

“What do you think?” she replied.
 

“Good,” he said touching her lightly on the forearm.
 
“Well, it’s good to see you again.
 
I’m sure this will be interesting.”
 

She gave him that same cool smile.
 
“I’m sure it will be.”
 

Ben and Mark walked over and set their briefcases down on the opposite counsel table.
 
“That was a little mating ritual of sorts,” Ben said.
 

“You know her pretty well then?”
 

Ben looked at Mark and grinned.
 

The courtroom slowly filled as the time approached nine o’clock.
 
Ben reviewed the brief prepared by the prosecutors, made thick by the attachment of excerpts from several of their key cases as exhibits.
 
Pretty routine, off-the-shelf stuff, Ben thought as he finished and handed the brief to Mark without saying anything.
 
“This really isn’t anything special,” Mark whispered in his ear a few minutes later.
 
“Ours is better.”
 
Ben nodded.
 

At precisely nine o’clock, the clerk stepped out of the courtroom through a door behind the bench.
 
Two minutes later, he returned and cleared his throat, which was a signal to all that he was about to speak.
 
“All rise,” he said, “the Circuit Court of Cook County is now in session, the Honorable Michael P. Quinn presiding.
 
Please be seated and come to order.”
 

A burly man in his early-sixties, with a ruddy face and a silver comb-over swept into the courtroom and up the steps to his seat behind the bench.
 
“Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a cheerful voice, scanning the courtroom and noticing that it was extra crowded this morning due to the presence of reporters and interested spectators.
 
“Why don’t we get started.”
 

The clerk called the first case, “People v. Megan Rand
Cavallaro
.”
 

The door at the left side of the courtroom opened and a sheriff’s deputy emerged and escorted Megan into the courtroom.
 
Megan looked awkward and uncomfortable in the orange jumpsuit.
 
Her hair barely looked combed.
 
As she entered, she glanced to her right at the gallery.
 
Ben instinctively followed her eyes and noticed for the first time that Joseph
Cavallaro
sat in the first row.
 
Clad in a dark blue suit, his gold cufflinks gleaming in the light,
Cavallaro
fixed his eyes on his wife.
 

Bridget Fahey stepped around the counsel table and strolled up to the bench as though she owned it.
 
“Good morning, your Honor,” she said without waiting for the others to join her.
 
“Bridget Fahey, First Assistant State’s Attorney, on behalf of the People.”
 

Ben lagged behind for a moment until Megan could cross the courtroom and join him.
 
He took her by the arm and led her up to the bench, gesturing for her to stand between himself and Mark.
 
“Good morning, your Honor,” he said in a calm voice when he reached the bench.
 
“Benjamin
Lohmeier
and Mark Schaefer on behalf of Megan Rand
Cavallaro
.”
 

“Good morning, Counselors,” Judge Quinn said looking down on them with a slight smile.
 
After a couple of minutes of preliminaries, Judge Quinn turned to Ben and said, “I take it you want to be heard on the question of bail, Counsel?”
 

“Yes, we do, your Honor,” Ben replied.
 
“Toward that end, we’ve prepared a motion and brief in support of our position.”
 
Ben handed his pleadings up to Judge Quinn, who took them with a raised eyebrow.
 
“I’ve also attached copies of the relevant cases, your Honor.”
 

The Judge looked immediately to his right at the prosecutor.
 
“The People have prepared a brief as well, your Honor,” Fahey said handing a copy up to the bench.
 
The Court took the prosecution’s filings and added them to the stack he’d gotten from the defense and evened out the stack with both hands.
 

“In light of this,” he said, “I’m going to adjourn to my chambers for a few moments to review these and see what you have for me.
 
Please remain seated.”
 
Judge Quinn rose and left the bench, exiting the courtroom from whence he came moments before.

As the Judge disappeared from view, Ben leaned over and asked
Meg
, “How you holding up?”
 

“Not so bad,” she said with a shrug.
 
“They had me in the maternity ward last night.
 
I don’t think I’ve seen the worst of the system yet.”
 

“Probably not,” Ben replied.
 
A bailiff approached to take Megan back to the holding area.
 
“It will just be a few minutes,” Ben said.
 

Ben looked over at Bridget Fahey sitting at the counsel table.
 
He couldn’t help but notice that the other prosecutors in the courtroom kept their distance and did not appear at all interested in interacting with her in any way.
 
She pretended not to notice.
 
Instead, she took out the defense brief and began taking notes on a yellow pad.

Ten minutes later, the door behind the bench opened and Judge Quinn returned, the bailiff crying out, “Please remain seated,” as the Judge ascended the steps to his seat.
 

“Counsel,” he said looking down at Ben, Mark and Bridget Fahey, who had stood, calling them forward to the bench with a wave of his hand.
 
A moment later, Megan joined them from the room on the left.
 

“Okay,” Judge Quinn said when everyone was standing before him, “Mr.
Lohmeier
, you’re the one seeking bond in this case, tell me why I should grant it.”
 

Ben spent several minutes summarizing the arguments contained in his brief, focusing on her standing in the community and the fact that she was a mother of a young son.
 
Judge Quinn listened intently.

When Ben was finished, Judge Quinn nodded and turned to his right.
 
“Ms. Fahey?” he said.

“Your Honor, the People could not disagree more.
 
In particular, we believe that the Defendant presents a serious flight risk.
 
Not only does she have substantial resources, her husband is a prominent personal injury attorney, but it has also come
to our attention that the Defendant and her husband own a residence in the Cayman Islands
.”
 
Ben did not know this.
 
Fahey continued for several more minutes succinctly summarizing the points made in her brief.
 
Nothing too spectacular, Ben thought, yet she covered all the necessary points and provided Quinn with a basis for denying bail should he so choose.
 

Judge Quinn asked several questions and appeared genuinely undecided about which way to go.
 
He sat quietly for a moment and stroked his chin.
 
Then he said, “I’d really like to hear more about the issues regarding the Defendant’s child.
 
Obviously, because he is a minor, we have privacy issues, so why don’t the lawyers and I adjourn to my chambers and take a few minutes to discuss these issues.
 
Follow me folks.”
 
With that, he rose and led them out through the door behind the bench, and down to his chambers at the end of the corridor.
 
They followed him through a small outer office where a woman sat working.
 
She never even looked up when they passed.

Judge Quinn’s
chambers was
a large, rectangular-shaped room, cluttered with files and dominated by a large mahogany desk somewhat the worse for wear.
 
The Judge plopped himself down in his leather chair, still wearing his robe.
 
The credenza and the wall behind him were dotted with photographs, honorary degrees and other memorabilia of a career spent in the law.
 
Ben and Bridget Fahey each took one of the chairs in front of the desk, while Mark sat on the couch against the inside wall.
 
The court reporter followed them in and took a seat on the couch next to Mark.
 
The outside wall of Judge Quinn’s chambers consisted of a series of large picture windows providing him with a panoramic view of downtown Chicago off in the distance.
 

As the court reporter began to get set-up, Judge Quinn waved her off.
 
“That’s okay,” he said, “we’re not going to need you to take any of this down.”
 
Somewhat puzzled, she stopped what she was doing.
 
Then the Judge turned his attention to the lawyers.
 
“Look, I didn’t bring you in here to discuss the issues regarding the child.
 
I want to know where we’re going with this.
 
Miss Fahey, I find Counsel’s arguments here on bail to be pretty convincing.
 
I’m familiar with these cases.
 
I don’t think you’ve shown me enough to cause me to lock up a mother of a young child with no previous criminal record for six months to a year until trial.
 
That just doesn’t seem reasonable.
 
On the other hand, I know this is a big case and you have to take the position that bail is unjustified.”
 

“But your Honor,” Fahey started to say before the Judge cut her off with another wave of his hand.
 

“I know.
 
I know,” the Judge said interrupting.
 
“I can sympathize with your position.”
 
He turned to Ben.
 
“Mr.
Lohmeier
, although I do find your position meritorious, the State does have a point with respect to flight risk.
 
Your client appears to have ample resources and the means to leave the jurisdiction and not come back.
 
So, I think you need to give her something.”

As Ben expected when the Judge called them into his chambers, Judge Quinn was seeking to broker a deal that would satisfy everyone and not make it appear that one side won and another lost.
 
This was consistent with his reputation.
 
He had never been known as a rigid authoritarian figure.
 
Rather, he had the reputation among lawyers as a highly pragmatic judge, who preferred to avoid technicalities and let lawyers cut to the chase and try their cases on the merits.
 
“Mr.
Lohmeier
, I take it your client would be willing to surrender her passport?”
 
Judge Quinn asked.

“Of course,
Your
Honor.
 
Mrs.
Cavallaro
isn’t going anywhere.
 
She looks forward to clearing her name, and the only way to do that is in a courtroom in this building.”