Play Dead

Tara and Reggie seem to reflect my stress, getting close to me, as if being supportive. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I actually feel as though I owe Reggie something, and I don’t want to let him down. And not reuniting him with Richard would be letting him down.

Before I go to sleep I pet Reggie’s head. “Big day tomorrow, buddy,” I say.

He just looks at me, as if not willing to let me off the hook that easily. I look over and see Tara staring as well, supporting her friend against the hand that feeds her.

I pet him again. “No matter what happens, you’ve always got a home here.”

Again he stares at me, the same way he stared at me that first day in the kennel.

I pet him a final time. “All right. Don’t mention this publicly, but we’re gonna win.”

* * * * *

“WHAT HAPPENS TODAY affects only the timing, not the ultimate result.”

I say this as Kevin and I are meeting in a court anteroom with Richard and Karen. In fifteen minutes Judge Gordon is going to announce his ruling, and I’m trying to cushion them against the psychological devastation of a loss.

“We are going to find out the truth, and we’ll prove your innocence in court. If Judge Gordon rules against us, it will only delay our victory, not prevent it.”

Richard is in the process of establishing himself as unique among all the people I have ever defended. To this point he has not once asked me if I think we are going to win or lose. Usually defendants bombard me with the question, as if asking it repeatedly is going to unearth some secret truth that I am otherwise sworn to defend. Richard either senses that I have no idea what is going to happen, or thinks I have an idea and doesn’t want to hear what it is.

At nine o’clock sharp we enter the courtroom, which is packed to capacity and has all the energy of a major trial verdict moment. I have been to some huge prizefights, including the first Tyson-Holyfield, and the electricity that courses through a courtroom at moments like these is similar to the feeling at those venues, albeit on a much smaller scale. One side is going to lose, and one will win, and nothing will be the same afterward.

Karen takes her seat directly behind us as Janine Coletti and the rest of her team occupy their places at the prosecution table. Coletti nods at me and smiles and doesn’t appear at all nervous, which has the effect of making me nervous.

The five minutes that pass until the bailiff announces Judge Gordon’s entry feel like five hours. Mercifully, he gets right down to it. “I’m going to make a very brief statement, and post the entire decision on the court Web site,” he says.

Kevin looks over at me, a worried expression on his face. I know what he’s thinking. The overwhelming percentage of people in the room want Richard to get a new trial. If Judge Gordon is going to deliver bad news, he might want to do it quickly and let the Web site do the rest.

This is the way nervous, worried lawyers think.

The judge then goes into all that led to his decision. It goes on for three or four minutes, leading me to start calculating whether my bad-news theory might be wrong.

It’s an art form to give a lengthy preamble to a decision, listing the facts used to make the judgment, without giving away what the final decision will be. Judge Gordon has mastered it, and it takes me by surprise when he pauses and says, “Therefore…”

He pauses after the word, a delay that serves as a silent drumroll. I can feel Richard tense up next to me, and I can only imagine Karen behind me. She must have exploded by now.

Judge Gordon continues, “… it is the decision of this court that the defense has met its burden, and a new trial is hereby granted in the case of New Jersey versus Evans, said trial to commence on June fourteenth.”

There is not an explosion of noise in the courtroom; it is more the sound of a hundred people exhaling at once. Richard lowers his head into his hands and keeps it there until Karen vaults out of her seat and starts pounding him on the back and shoulders in triumph.

He turns and hugs her and then does the same to Kevin and me. Judge Gordon is considerate enough to let this emotional scene play out for a brief while before gaveling order into the courtroom.

The judge has set a trial date for six weeks from today. It’s rushed, but Richard has already told me that he doesn’t want to wait a moment longer than necessary.

I pursue the matter of bail, but it is almost never granted in first-degree murder trials, and Judge Gordon does not make an exception here. Richard is disappointed, but I’ve prepared him for it.

The proceedings end, and the bailiffs come over to take Richard away. “You did great,” he says to me.

“It’s only the beginning, Richard. I know you know that, but I’ve got to say it anyway. The case starts now.”

He smiles and nods, having expected me to temper his enthusiasm. “Give Reggie a hug for me,” he says.

“That I can do.”