Page 141 of Resurrection Walk

“No, Your Honor,” I said.

“Very well,” Coelho said.

She opened the file she had brought with her, put on a pair of glasses, and began to read her decision aloud. I looked over at Lucinda sitting next to me and nodded.

“The writ of habeas corpus is a fundamental pillar of our justice system,” Coelho said. “Chief Justice John Marshall wrote nearly two hundred years ago that habeas corpus is the sacred means of allowing for the liberation of those who may be imprisoned without sufficient cause. It safeguards our freedom, protects us from the arbitrary and lawless actions of the State.

“It is my job today to decide if the State made a lawless action in imprisoning Lucinda Sanz for the murder of Roberto Sanz. The question is complicated by the fact that the petitioner, Ms. Sanz, pleaded no contest to a charge of manslaughter. After carefully reviewing the evidence and testimony presented during this hearing and considering what happened outside court this week, the court holds that the petitioner saw the plea agreement she was offered as the only light at the end of a dark tunnel. Whether she was coerced by her attorney at the time — not you, Mr. Haller — or concluded on her own that she had no choice but to accept a plea agreement does not matter to this court. What does matter is the clear mandate of the Constitution and Bill of Rights that habeas relief be granted when the state court’s determination of a case is an unreasonable application of the law. This court finds that the petitioner has established that by producing clear and new evidence of the manufacturing of evidence against the petitioner.”

I made a fist and turned and whispered to Lucinda.

“You’re going home.”

“What about a trial?”

“Not when there’s manufactured evidence. This is over.”

Because I was turned toward Lucinda, I didn’t see Morris stand to object.

“Your Honor?” he said.

Coelho looked up from the document she was reading.

“Mr. Morris, you know better than to interrupt me,” she said. “You will sit down. I know what your objection is and you are overruled. Sit down. Now!”

Morris dropped down into his seat like a bag of dirty laundry.

“Continuing,” Coelho said, “as I expect no further interruptions.”

She looked down and it took her a moment to find the spot where she had left off.

“The actions of the sheriff’s department, particularly those taken by the late Sergeant Sanger, so damaged the integrity of the investigation and subsequent prosecution as to permanently embed it with reasonable doubt. Therefore, the ruling of this court is to grant habeas relief to the petitioner. The conviction of Lucinda Sanz is vacated.”

The judge closed the file and took off her glasses. The courtroom remained silent. She looked directly at Lucinda.

“Ms. Sanz, you are no longer convicted of this crime. Your freedom and civil rights are restored. I can only offer you the apology of this court for the five years you have lost. Godspeed to you. You are free to go, and this court is now adjourned.”

It seemed that it wasn’t until the judge had gone through the door and left the courtroom that everybody remaining took a breath. But then the sound of excited voices exploded in the room. Lucinda turned and hugged me, throwing her free arm around my neck.

“Mickey, I thank you so much,” she said, her tears smearing my freshly dry-cleaned Canali suit. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t.”

While she held me, Marshal Nate came to the table and unlocked her wrist. He started to remove the cuff.

“Can she leave from here?” I asked. “Or does she have to go through the MDC?”

“No, the judge set her free, man,” Marshal Nate said. “She’s free to go. Unless she left property behind at the jail and wants to get it.”

Lucinda turned from my chest to look up at Marshal Nate.

“No, nothing,” she said. “And thank you for being kind to me.”

“Not a problem,” Marshal Nate said. “Good luck to you.”

He turned and walked back to his desk by the holding cell’s door.

“Lucinda, you heard him,” I said. “You’re free. Why don’t you go see your family now.”

She looked over my shoulder at her family waiting in the gallery — her son with her mother, brother, and several cousins. To a person, they had tears running down their faces, even those whose clothing couldn’t hide the tattoos affirming their allegiance to White Fence.

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