New Tricks - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,13
husband died, and his will wasn’t correctly prepared or filed.”
What I’m hearing is pretty amazing. “So you actually represent these people? In court?”
“When I have to.”
“For free?” I ask.
He nods. “For free; most of them couldn’t afford to pay anyway. But they wouldn’t take their laundry anywhere else.”
Kevin has obviously become a pro at pro bono. “How many of these clients do you have?”
He thinks for a moment. “Right now? Probably about seventy.”
I don’t know how to respond to this, so all I say is, “Oh.”
On the way to the jail, Kevin tells me that he has checked and learned that Richard Wallace has been assigned to prosecute the case. It’s a mixed blessing for us. I know Richard well; my father trained him many years ago. He is cooperative and professional, but he is also smart and tough.
Once we’re in the small, private visiting room reserved for lawyers and their clients, Steven is brought in to see us. The look on his face immediately tells us he has had a long, horrible night, and the truth is that it will only be the first of many.
The police and prosecutor made an embarrassing mistake in initially arresting and charging the wrong person for the Walter Timmerman murder. They would not then have moved so hastily to arrest Steven had they not been very confident that the embarrassment would not be compounded by another early release. They may not have the goods on Steven, but they damn sure think they do.
I introduce Kevin, and Steven immediately starts pressing us for information on his situation. He’s hoping I’ll tell him something positive, something to give him a reason to hope, when in actuality I’ve got nothing to tell him at all.
“Here’s how it works at this point,” I say. “For now I am more of a collector than a provider of information. And one of the most important sources of that information, maybe the most important, is you.”
“What does that mean?” he asks. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, so how am I going to tell you anything that you can use?”
“You know more about your family than anyone else, and the secret to all this is almost definitely in your family. So I want you to think very carefully about it, and look at it from all different angles. Write down anything that comes to mind; we’ll spend a lot of time talking about it.”
He seems unconvinced, but promises to do as I say. Then he asks the question that every single person asks the first time they face what he is facing. “How long will I be in here?”
“It depends on their evidence. If they have enough to take you to trial, and they probably do, you’ll be in here at least until that trial is over. There will not be bail granted, not in a case like this.”
“I didn’t do this… please believe me… I did not do this. Nothing that they can have can be real, or true.”
“We have to convince a jury of that. But there’s another thing we need to talk about now.”
“What’s that?”
“Your representation. Do you have a criminal attorney?”
He seems offended by the question. “Of course not.”
“You can hire one of your choice, assuming you have financial resources. You should not feel obligated to hire us simply because I happened to be there when this went down.”
“I want you. Everybody says you’re terrific.” He looks at Kevin, who nods, apparently confirming that assessment.
“You checked me out as a criminal attorney?” I ask, since this seems to fly in the face of his previous apparent unconcern at the possibility of being arrested.
He shakes his head. “No, I was doing research about you because you were going to decide what happens to Waggy. I wanted to see what kind of person you are. In the process, I read about cases you’ve handled and people you’ve helped.”
I continue to make sure he understands that he can talk to or hire a different attorney, but he adamantly refuses to entertain the possibility. We discuss my fee, which is considerable but doesn’t seem to give him pause.
“I have a trust fund,” he says. “I’m supposed to get money from it each quarter, but I always put it back into the fund. I’m sure I can have access to it now.”
“How have you supported yourself?” I ask.
“I make furniture. People hire me and I custom-design it to their specifications.”
“Where do you do this?”
“I have space downtown in