Page 71 of Resurrection Walk

“I hope not.”

“Embrace it. It’s the new you, Harry.”

Bosch disconnected without further comment. Or denial.

PART SIX

THE TRUTH TRAP

24

THE EAGLE HADangry, righteous eyes. It looked as if, given the opportunity, it would drop the arrows and olive branch it grasped in its sharp talons, swoop down from the wall, and tear your throat open for having even thought of coming here for justice. I studied it as I grew accustomed to my new surroundings. I had spent most of my decades-long practice trying to avoid being in federal courtrooms. The U.S. District Court for the Central District of California was where defense cases went to die. The feds operated with a near 100 percent conviction rate. Defense cases here were managed, not often tried, and almost never won.

ButLucinda Sanz v. the State of Californiawas different. A habeas petition was a civil motion. My opponent wasn’t the federal government. I was in a battle against the state, with a federal judge presiding as referee, and that opened the door of hope. After I took in the seal with the angry eagle affixed to the wall above the judge’s bench, my eyes moved about the august room with its deep, rich woods, flags in the front corners, and textured oil portraits of former jurists on the side walls. This room had stood the test of time better than any lawyer who had ever stepped in here with a prayer for justice. This was what Legal Siegel had taught me so long ago.Breathe it in. This is your moment. This is your stage. Want it. Own it. Take it.

I closed my eyes and repeated the words in my head, ignoring the sounds around me: people shuffling into the benches of the gallery behind me, whispers from the AG’s table to my left, the court clerk in his corral muttering into his phone to the right. And then came an intrusion I could not ignore.

“Mickey! Mickey!”

An urgent whisper. I opened my eyes and looked at Lucinda. She nodded toward the back of the room. I turned and saw the reporters in the first row and the courtroom artist working for one of the TV stations, since cameras were not allowed in federal court. And beyond them I saw Deputy Stephanie Sanger sitting in the last row. It was the first time I had seen her in person. Since the habeas was a civil motion, I could have deposed her but that would have given her, and the AG, a heads-up on my case strategy. I didn’t want that. So I’d gambled and skipped the depo, and I would question her for the first time when I called her as a witness.

I locked eyes for a moment with Sanger. She had sandy-blond hair and pale eyes; her stare was as cold and angry as the eagle’s up on the wall. She was in full uniform, badge and commendation pins on display. This was the oldest trick in the book when it came to reminding a jury of the authority of a testifying law enforcement officer. But this wasn’t a jury trial and the uniform most likely would not impress the judge.

“Can she do that?” Lucinda asked. “Sit behind us like that?”

I looked from Sanger to my client. She was scared.

“Don’t worry about her,” I said. “When court starts, she’ll leave. She’s a witness and they’re not allowed to be in court until they testify. That’s why Harry Bosch isn’t here.”

Before Lucinda could respond, the courtroom marshal stood at his desk next to the door to the courtside holding cell and announced the arrival of Judge Ellen Coelho. The timing was perfect. As people in the courtroom stood, the door behind the bench opened and the black-robed judge took the three steps up to the black leather chair from which she would preside.

“Be seated,” she said, her voice amplified by the coffered ceiling and the other acoustics of the courtroom.

As I sat down, I leaned toward Lucinda and whispered, “There will be some discussions with the judge and then it will be your turn. Like we talked about, be calm, be direct, look at me or the judge when you answer. Don’t look at the other attorneys.”

Lucinda nodded hesitantly. She still looked scared, her light brown complexion turning pale.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said. “You’re ready for this. You’ll do fine.”

“But what if I don’t?” she said.

“Don’t think like that. These people at the other table want to take the rest of your life away. They want to take your son away. Be angry at them, not scared. You need to get back to your son, Lucinda. They are trying to stop you from doing that. Think about that.”

I noticed motion behind her and looked up from our huddle to see Frank Silver pull out the chair on her other side and sit down.

“Sorry I’m late,” he whispered. “Hi, Lucinda, do you remember me?”

Before she could answer I put my hand on Lucinda’s arm to stop her and leaned across her to address Silver as quietly as my anger would allow.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered.

“I’m co-counsel,” he said. “That was our deal. I’m here to help.”

“What deal?” Lucinda asked.

“There is no deal,” I said. “You need to leave, Frank. Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Silver said.

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