knew what I wanted. We’d had this conversation before.
“Harold, this is calendar call,” I said. “This is when I tell the judge if we’re ready to go to trial. I already know the state’s ready. So today’s about us.”
“So?”
“So, there’s a problem. Last time we were here you told me I’d be getting some money. But here we are, Harold, and no money.”
“Don’t worry. I have your money.”
“That’s why I am worried. You have my money. I don’t have my money.”
“It’s coming. I talked to my boys yesterday. It’s coming.”
“You said that last time, too. I don’t work for free, Harold. The expert I had go over the photos doesn’t work for free, either. Your retainer is long gone. I want some more money or you’re going to have to get yourself a new lawyer. A public defender.”
“No PD, man. I want you.”
“Well, I got expenses and I gotta eat. You know what my nut is each week just to pay for the yellow pages? Take a guess.”
Casey said nothing.
“A grand. Averages out a grand a week just to keep my ad in there and that’s before I eat or pay the mortgage or the child support or put gas in the Lincoln. I’m not doing this on a promise, Harold. I work on green inspiration.”
Casey seemed unimpressed.
“I checked around,” he said. “You can’t just quit on me. Not now. The judge won’t let you.”
A hush fell over the courtroom as the judge stepped out of the door to his chambers and took the two steps up to the bench. The bailiff called the courtroom to order. It was showtime. I just looked at Casey for a long moment and stepped away. He had an amateur, jailhouse knowledge of the law and how it worked. He knew more than most. But he was still in for a surprise.
I took a seat against the rail behind the defendant’s table. The first case called was a bail reconsideration that was handled quickly. Then the clerk called the case of California v. Casey and I stepped up to the table.
“Michael Haller for the defense,” I said.
The prosecutor announced his presence as well. He was a young guy named Victor DeVries. He had no idea what was going to hit him when we got to trial. Judge Orton Powell made the usual inquiries about whether a last-minute disposition in the case was possible. Every judge had an overflowing calendar and an overriding mandate to clear cases through disposition. The last thing any judge wanted to hear was that there was no hope of agreement and that a trial was inevitable.
But Powell took the bad news from DeVries and me in stride and asked if we were ready to schedule the trial for later in the week. DeVries said yes. I said no.
“Your Honor,” I said, “I would like to carry this over until next week, if possible.”
“What is the cause of your delay, Mr. Haller?” the judge asked impatiently. “The prosecution is ready and I want to dispose of this case.”
“I want to dispose of it as well, Your Honor. But the defense is having trouble locating a witness who will be necessary to our case. An indispensable witness, Your Honor. I think a one-week carryover should be sufficient. By next week we should be ready to go forward.”
As expected, DeVries objected to the delay.
“Your Honor, this is the first the state has heard about a missing witness. Mr. Haller has had almost three months to locate his witnesses. He’s the one who wanted the speedy trial and now he wants to wait. I think this is just a delay tactic because he’s facing a case that -”
“You can hold on to the rest of that for the jury, Mr. DeVries,” the judge said. “Mr. Haller, you think one week will solve your problem?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Okay, we’ll see you and Mr. Casey next Monday and you will be ready to go. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you.”
The clerk called the next case and I stepped away from the defense table. I watched a deputy lead my client out of the pen. Casey glanced back at me, a look on his face that seemed to be equal parts anger and confusion. I went over to Reynaldo Rodriguez and asked if I could be allowed back into the holding area to further confer with my client. It was a professional courtesy allowed to most of the regulars. Rodriguez got up, unlocked a door behind his