Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 49, No. 1 & 2, January/February 2004

Judge Robertson shook his head and moved to stand in front of his desk chair. “No. But if that’s your story, that’s okay. I saw the eavesdropping warrant in the file.”

Lori felt a thrill in her chest. She wouldn’t have wanted that. But she realized that the clerk of court would have placed the warrant in the only court file open on Archer. She decided to say nothing.

“Your principal witness was dead, you blew a lot of smoke on a tired old judge to get him to issue a warrant of doubtful validity, and submitted a return on the warrant that was the essence of vagueness. The rest of the file, with the only eyewitness dead, isn’t enough to get past a motion to dismiss after the state’s evidence, and yet Lewerke comes in and rolls over for a long sentence. I might almost hear a habeas corpus proceeding coming this way, on the basis of inadequate lawyer representation.”

Lori still said nothing.

“Not to worry,” the judge said. He sank into his chair and formed a prayer clasp with his hands on the empty desk blotter. “Our little conversation about the defendant being satisfied with Lewerke’s representation of him has taken care of that. You recall that I insisted that Archer read the file, and almost twisted his arm into admitting that he knew he was pleading guilty to charges with a flimsy case, and yet that he was satisfied with Lewerke, and didn’t want to fight it. Neither one of them cracked. It’s all on the record, just in case that habeas corpus lands on this desk.”

Lori swallowed hard.

The judge leaned back and cupped his hands behind his head. He smiled, a friendly smile. “I was a prosecutor for twelve years before I took to defending, and then moved on to this job. What you did was the neatest job of railroading I’ve ever seen. And it couldn’t have happened to a better defendant, or defense attorney. I’d rather not know the details, unless it moves beyond today and here.”

“Your Honor, I... I... I—”

The judge held out his hands, palms open, fingers extended. He stood up. “I’m leaving. Justice takes many forms. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one with so many forms as this one. I’ll see you next court service day.” With an effortless motion, he was out the door in a moment.

Lori waited for several seconds before she followed the judge out of the office and down the stairs. She went into the office of the county clerk and went to a stack of blank certificates to file as a candidate for office.

“You’re going to go for it, huh?” asked the clerk.

“I just decided.”