Page 103 of Resurrection Walk

THE ROOFTOP LOUNGEat the Conrad gave us a great view across downtown. It was the kind of view that made you love this city because it reminded you that anything was possible down there on the street.

But we were having none of that — Bosch, Arslanian, Cisco, and me. We sat there silently mourning the losses of the day. Bosch’s testimony had been the lone shining moment for Lucinda Sanz’s cause, but even that, it turned out, was too good to be true. Judge Coelho granted the AG’s request for more time to study the cell-tower data we had presented. She recessed the hearing until the following Monday morning, giving Morris and his minions three days — five if they kicked into overtime and worked through the weekend — to find ways to undermine the impact of Bosch’s testimony and evidence.

But that ruling was minor compared to the loss of Arslanian’s testimony and crime re-creation. That ruling was a case killer and I found myself not only angry at Morris but also deeply disappointed in the judge for not making law and approving the AI-based re-creation. So we sat there with a stunning view of the city in all directions, but none of us could see the beauty in it. The sky was growing dim and so were Lucinda Sanz’s chances of freedom.

“I’m so sorry, Mickey,” Arslanian said. “If only I —”

“No, Shami,” I said. “This is on me. I should have seen it coming. I should have asked you about the platform.”

“You’re going to appeal the judge’s ruling, right?” Bosch asked.

“Of course,” I said. “But like I said in court, in the meantime Lucinda goes back to Chino and waits it out. We’re talking about years and years. Even if we win in the Ninth, it will go up to the Supreme Court. That’s a five- to six-year ride. We may get lucky and make new law, but Lucinda will have served her sentence and be out by then.”

“What about what you always say about not being able to unring the bell?” Cisco said. “The judge saw the whole thing, didn’t she? She might have kicked it out, but she knows it was good stuff.”

I shook my head.

“There’s that, but the judge knows she’s got the eyes of the AG on her,” I said. “She’ll bend over backward not to let it be part of her ruling.”

“This is my fault,” Arslanian said.

“Come on, give that a rest,” I said. “I’m the captain of this sinking ship. It’s all on me and I go down with it.”

“Not if you put Sanger back on the stand and prove the lie,” Bosch said. “The judge owes you one and she knows it. Prove Sanger a liar and she might give you MacIsaac. If we get him on the stand, we get the true story and it points to Sanger, not Lucinda.”

I took a long pull on my cranberry and soda and shook my head again.

“I don’t think Coelho thinks she owes me anything,” I said. “Fed judges are appointed for life. They don’t look back unless the Ninth Circuit tells them to.”

That drew another long silence. I drained my glass and looked for the waitress.

“Another round?” I asked.

“I’m good,” Bosch said.

“Another beer,” Cisco said.

“I’m good,” Arslanian said.

There was no waitress in sight. I stood up with my glass and grabbed Cisco’s empty. I turned to go to the bar.

“I wish we had those GSR pads,” Arslanian said.

I turned back around.

“Wouldn’t matter,” I said. “These people weren’t stupid. They would have replaced the pads they used on Lucinda with pads loaded with GSR.”

“I know that,” Arslanian said. “And I know the evidence was destroyed after the case was adjudicated. But I’m not talking about testing them for GSR. If those pads were wiped over Lucinda’s hands, they would have picked up skin cells along with any GSR. Most people, including defense lawyers, weren’t really thinking about touch DNA back then. But testing is so sophisticated now that we’d be able to prove whether those pads were actually used on her.”

I almost dropped the two glasses from my hands. I quickly put them back down on the table.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “You may have just —”

I stopped speaking. My mind was racing through the documents I had seen from the original case against Lucinda.

“What?” Arslanian prompted.

“The DA’s file from the original prosecution,” I said. “We got a copy in discovery. There was an evidence transfer order in there. Frank Silver was going through the usual moves. He asked for an evidence split so he could have a private lab test the GSR. There were two pads and the judge had one of them transferred to Silver’s lab. But then he pleaded Lucinda out and it didn’t matter.”

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