The Justice Game (29 page)

    “Which is all hearsay,” Jason said. “The only person who told you that Peninsula Arms was involved in referring Jamison to you was Jamison himself; isn’t that right?”

    “Objection. Asked and answered.”

    “Do I answer again anyway?” Beeson asked, looking at Kelly.

    She nodded.

    “That’s right,” Beeson said. “Jamison told me. And it might be a little hard to cross-examine him.”

As Kelly was leaving the prison, Jason held the door for her. After two hours of fighting tooth and nail, she wanted to tell him he could dispense with the Southern gentleman charade. Instead, she found herself saying thanks. But when he tried to civilly discuss scheduling dates for other depositions and discovery matters, she blew him off. “Call me at the office,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”

    “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

    Kelly stopped and looked at him.
The audacity.
“No, thanks.” She knew she should probably let it go at that. Jason was young. He was good at depositions, but he obviously had a few things to learn about life. “This isn’t Ralph Wolf and Sam Sheepdog,” Kelly said. “Try to kill each other all day, punch a clock, wish each other a pleasant evening.”

    Jason looked a little stunned, but Kelly was just getting started. “Your client pumps useless semi-automatic assault weapons into the black market and turns its back while people die. My client has to live the rest of his life without a soul mate. I know you’re just doing your job, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

    Jason stood there for a second, taking it all in. “Okay,” he said. “All right, I get that. But did I mention the coffee’s on me?”

    Kelly sighed. It was hard to stay mad when he wouldn’t fight back. “Call me at the office,” she said. She turned and headed toward her car, hiding the faintest hint of a smile.

    “Drive safe,” Jason called out.

    Was he playing mind games with her, or was he really that clueless?

Bella Harper, it turned out, had an opinion on everything. Between smoking breaks, lecturing Jason on how to run a law office, and organizing everything in sight, she also tried to get Jason’s spiritual life squared away. She talked about her own dramatic conversion to Christianity just a few short years ago and how much it had changed her. “Maybe not in the smoking department,” she admitted. “But everything else.”

    Jason must have given her a sideways look, because she immediately read his mind. “You think I’m bossy now? You should have seen me before.”

    Jason had a hard time imagining how it could have been any worse. Bella was overbearing, but he would tolerate it because she got the job done.

    The last week or so, they had been in an unspoken who-can-get-to-work-first race. Jason came in at 8:30 on Monday. Instead of welcoming him to the office, Bella said she had been worried that maybe he was taking the day off and forgot to tell her. On Tuesday, he arrived at 8:00 to find Bella at her desk with the coffee made. Wednesday, it was 7:45. When he arrived at 6:30 on Friday only to find Bella on her first smoke break, Jason threw in the towel.

    “Are you sleeping here?” he asked. “Let’s talk about setting some reasonable office hours.”

    They were out on the front stoop. It was dark, cold, and windy.

    Bella took a puff on her cigarette and blew the smoke away from Jason. “You’re the one sending out e-mails at one in the morning. Pot, meet kettle.”

    Jason smiled. “Maybe we’re not exactly good for each other’s workaholism,” he admitted. “Maybe we should both take a day off once in a while.”

    “Yeah, like maybe Sunday. Go to church together.”

    “Nice try,” Jason said. The invitation had become a running gag. Jason was careful not to disrespect Bella’s faith but made it clear that he really wasn’t interested. Bella had nevertheless declared her intention to drag him to church with her someday, kicking and screaming if necessary. She had already tried every angle, including telling Jason about all the single young women who attended.

    “Okay, I might need a little assistance in the religion department,” Jason had said. “But I definitely don’t need your help in the dating department.”

    “Right,” Bella said. “I forgot about that steady stream of bachelorettes beating down your door. Hard to know how you keep them all straight.”

    Jason gave her his best I’m-the-boss-and-I’m-not-happy look.

    She threw up her palms. “I get it. I mean, not really, but I hear ya.”

    “Okay, thanks.”

    Jason thought the conversation was over and started walking away. But something about Bella’s facial expression stopped him. She looked sheepish, a look he hadn’t seen from her before.

    “What is it?” he asked.

    Bella grimaced. It was obvious she was holding out on him.

    “Bella?”

    “If you get a call from
Beach Weekly
about their ten most eligible bachelors edition…” She stopped and braced for the reaction. “I sent that in before we had this conversation. So don’t get all huffy on me.”

The call came when Kelly was waiting in line for lunch at the small deli on the ground floor of her building. Judge Shaver’s cell phone.

    “Hey, Judge,” Kelly said. She tried to sound natural, but her heart was in her throat. Shaver wouldn’t call unless it was very important. “Can I call you right back?”

    “How long?” Shaver asked.

    “A minute. Literally.”

    “Okay.”

    Kelly paid for her lunch, carried her tray to a table, and left it there. She looked for a private spot in the lobby. There were people milling around, and the granite floors created an echo. She decided to step outside, even without her winter coat, in the middle of February. She figured the call wouldn’t take long.

    Shaver answered on the first ring. “Just wanted to follow up on our meeting the other day,” he said blithely. “Thanks for stopping by.”

    His tone, Kelly knew, was intended to send its own message: Be careful what you say; someone might be listening.

    “Thanks for asking about the confirmation hearings,” he continued. “And for asking my advice about settlement.”

    Kelly had not, of course, sought any such advice. The man was sending her some kind of signal, being careful so that his choice of words wouldn’t haunt him later.

    “The politicians are working on a compromise for judicial nominations. They say my hearings could start as early as next month, or it could be as long as three or four months.”

    “That’s a pretty big window,” Kelly responded, running the timetables in her head. Either way, it would probably happen before the start of her trial.

    “Yeah. Quite a system,” Shaver said. “I’m so frustrated with the whole process, I’m thinking about just withdrawing my name.”

    Kelly had been walking down the sidewalk, trying to keep warm. She was drawing a fair number of looks. The tension and the frigid air made her voice tremble a little. “Hang in there, Judge. You’ve come this far; don’t back out now.”

    Kelly had thought this through from every angle. If Shaver withdrew his name, it wouldn’t solve many of her problems. Luthor would still have his blackmail threats, though the story about the affair wouldn’t have quite the same national appeal. Still, Kelly’s friends and family would all find out about it.

    “Yes, well, for the time being I’m content to see where it heads. But I like being a trial judge. I do wonder sometimes whether this whole process is worth it.”

    There was a momentary silence, as if Shaver was waiting for some type of coded message in response. It would have been easier just to meet with the man, but Kelly could understand why he didn’t want to take that risk.

    “Changing subjects,” Shaver said, “I’ve been thinking about that gun case you mentioned and the advice I gave you about settlement. One thing I’ve been asking myself is who would benefit if you went to trial. It seems to me that two very different groups benefit. The Handgun Violence Coalition, the group that referred you the case, would benefit because this case will generate a lot of donations.

    “The second group that would benefit is the NRA and its allies. Think about it. What they need is a villain to help them raise cash, a boogeyman that threatens to disarm all of America. Trial lawyers in general—and you in particular—fit that role very nicely. So these advocacy groups benefit handsomely if the case goes to trial. But Kelly…”

    “Yes, Your Honor.”

    “Your role is to ignore them. Your only role is to do what’s best for your client.”

    “Yes, sir,” Kelly said.

    There were no settlement discussions on the table, so from that perspective, the judge’s comments were all nonsense. But it didn’t take a rocket scientist to decode the message. Shaver thought Kelly was being blackmailed by the Handgun Violence Coalition or one of the NRA’s allies. Both groups certainly had financial incentives to see this case tried, but how would either of them have learned about the affair?

    “In any event, how’s the case going?” Judge Shaver asked.

    Kelly kept it short and sweet; after all, it was freezing outside. She headed back toward the warmth of the building lobby, explaining her frustrations with the deposition of Jarrod Beeson and other aspects of the case. Shaver listened politely but was careful not to give her any legal advice.

    After they hung up, Kelly hustled back inside the lobby of her building. She took a deep breath, rubbed her freezing arms, and ran through the conversation in her mind.

    The whole phone call felt strangely off-kilter. She’d heard paranoia in Shaver’s voice. He’d even made a second offer to pull his name from nomination in hopes that all this might somehow go away.

    But it wouldn’t.

    His references to settlement made Kelly even more leery. Shaver had made it clear that Kelly should do what was best for her client. Yes, he had been sending signals about who he thought might be the blackmailers, but this phone call, if it had been recorded, would be Shaver’s Exhibit A to show that he had urged Kelly not to give in to the blackmailer.
If it’s in the best interest of your client you should settle
—or words to that effect.

    He didn’t
need
to say that. Kelly had already told him she was not going to let Luthor dictate what she should do on this case. But now Judge Shaver had made a special phone call to go on record distancing himself from Kelly’s decision.

    It felt vaguely like a setup, as if Shaver was trying to keep her mollified yet at the same time separate himself from her decisions. If Kelly tried to say that the judge had urged her not to settle in order to keep their affair a secret, he would just trot out this phone call as evidence to the contrary.

    It was clever and subtle, but she saw right through it. Judge Shaver didn’t trust her. He was trying to erect a wall of separation between her decisions on the case and their adulterous relationship.

    In the world of D.C. politics, it was, as usual, every man for himself.

For Jason Noble and Andrew Lassiter, it was almost like old times.

    But not quite.

    The air between them was noticeably chillier now—not quite see-your-breath chilly but not exactly warm bayou nights either—as they sat together in Jason’s conference room and watched the videotaped depositions of Melissa Davids and Jarrod Beeson. There was an unspoken acknowledgment that Jason had not stepped up for Andrew when Justice Inc. had done Andrew wrong. That pall hung over their meeting, though both men were too reserved or stubborn to talk about it.

    While he watched the depositions, Andrew toyed with a number of spreadsheets on his computer, tweaking the characteristics they wanted for their model jurors. He would need to do some focus groups to test his thinking, he told Jason, but he had researched the gun-control issue in the past.

    They needed to avoid African American women and upper-class white women, according to Lassiter. No Democrats. Baptists and Pentecostals were fine; mainline Protestants were trouble. Catholics could go either way. Intellectual elites were disastrous—especially readers of
Atlantic Monthly
or the
New York Times.
Same for environmentalists unless they were avid hunters. Jason wanted folks who shopped at Kroger and Target, not Fresh Market and Nordstrom.

    And Lassiter pointed out one other surprising correlation. Law enforcement personnel would side with the gun manufacturers 90 percent of the time.

    “Why is that?” Jason asked.

    “Most cops are firearms and hunting enthusiasts,” Lassiter responded, blinking rapidly. “They believe that disarming honest citizens does nothing to reduce crime and might deprive those citizens of the means of self-defense.”

    During one of the breaks, while Lassiter was using the men’s room, Jason wandered out to the reception area.

    “That guy’s
weird,
” whispered Bella, loud enough to be heard down the hall.

    “But very talented,” Jason said in a much softer whisper, hoping that Bella would take the hint.

    “He’s got this blinking thing going on,” she complained, her volume unaffected. “And he won’t look you in the eye. When he was sitting over there waiting for you, he had the jitters like crazy.”

    “He’s not trying the case, Bella. He’s just helping pick the jury.”

    She shook her head, unconvinced. “Something’s not right about him,” she said, making a face.

    Three hours later, Bella peeked into the conference room where Jason and Lassiter were still watching the videotaped depositions. “It’s six o’clock,” she said. “You need anything before I leave?”

    “No, we’re fine,” Jason replied, his attention still on the monitor. But before Bella could turn to go, a thought hit him. He pressed pause.

    “Bella, come here a minute.” He handed her the transcript from Melissa Davids’s deposition. “Pick out a question on any page,” Jason said. “Andrew, let’s see if you can guess the answer.”

    “There’s no point in this,” Andrew said.