Page 91 of Resurrection Walk

“No, I was not aware of that,” Mitchell said.

“At the time of Sanz’s death, were you a member of a sheriff’s clique called the Cucos?” I asked.

“No, I was not.”

“Were you ever questioned by the FBI in regard to being a member of a sheriff’s clique?”

“No, I was not.”

“Do you have a tattoo anywhere on your body that indicates that you are a member of a sheriff’s clique called the Cucos?”

Morris stood up again. “Your Honor, the State adamantly objects,” he said. “Counsel has a habit of trying to smear his own witness. What comes next? Will he ask the witness to take off his clothes so he can look for tattoos?”

Coelho held a hand up to stop me from responding.

“I want to see counsel in chambers before we proceed further down this path,” she said.

With that, she adjourned court and left the bench for her chambers. Morris and I soon followed.

29

JUDGE COELHO DIDN’Tbother removing her black robe as she took a seat behind a massive desk that dwarfed any I had ever seen in the Criminal Courts Building, where state jurists presided.

“Well, gentlemen,” she said, “the gloves have certainly come off. And before things get too combative out there, I thought we’d have a little sit-down to discuss where we’re going in this hearing. Mr. Haller, you went down this road with Sergeant Sanger and here we are back again with Deputy Mitchell.”

I nodded as I collected my thoughts. I knew that my response would determine how the rest of the hearing would go.

“Your Honor, thank you for this opportunity to explain,” I said. “If we’re given the chance to present our full case, the court will see that Roberto Sanz was killed because he had become an FBI informant. He was, in fact, talking to an FBI agent an hour before he was killed. Lucinda Sanz was set up to take the fall for his murder and coerced into taking a plea.”

“Your Honor, this is crazy,” Morris said. “He can’t prove any of this, so he’s going to use open court to make outrageous and slanderous claims against law enforcement officers who were just doing their jobs.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morris,” the judge said. “But don’t speak until I ask you to. Now, Mr. Haller, how do you plan to show this? There is nothing in your moving papers that supports it.”

“Your Honor, the petition does state that we have evidence of a conspiracy to frame Lucinda Sanz,” I said. “This is that conspiracy. I could not outline it in detail because that would give the conspirators a heads-up and they would cover their tracks. I need the court’s latitude now so I can bring it out. My next two witnesses will make it abundantly clear, and I believe the court will then order the appearance of Roberto Sanz’s FBI handler — Agent MacIsaac — so he can be questioned under oath about what really happened on the day Sanz was murdered.”

“Your Honor,” Morris said, “if I could be heard.”

“No,” Coelho said. “That won’t be necessary, because I know what you’re going to say, Mr. Morris. But I am the trier of fact in this hearing. As such, I am obligated to seek the facts before rendering a decision. Mr. Haller, I am going to let you go forward but I warn you to move carefully. If you stray from the provable facts, I will shut you down hard and you won’t want that. Neither will your client. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, Judge,” I said. “You’re clear.”

“Very well,” Coelho said. “You can return to the courtroom and I will be there presently to continue the hearing.”

Morris and I got up and headed out the door. I followed him into the hall that ran behind the courtroom. As we approached the door that led to the court clerk’s corral, Morris suddenly turned and confronted me.

“You fucking asshole,” he said. “You don’t care who you drag through the mud as long as you can make a play in front of the media. How do you sleep at night, Haller?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Morris,” I said. “Lucinda Sanz is innocent and if you had given the case a full workup, you’d see that. The people I drag through the mud belong there. And you’re going to get splashed with it too.”

He turned and grabbed the handle on the door but then looked back at me.

“The Lincoln Lawyer, my ass,” he said. “More like the Lying Lawyer. No wonder your wife left you and your kid moved away.”

I grabbed Morris by the jacket collar, turned him, and drove him into the wall next to the door.

“How do you know about my wife and daughter?” I demanded.

Morris held his hands up against the wall, maybe hoping that somebody would come into the hall and see he was being attacked.

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