The Brass Verdict

It hit her like a punch in the gut. I knew revealing it to her wasn’t going to endear me to Bosch or Armstead, but I didn’t care. Neither of them was the guy who had been used like a pawn and had nearly taken the high dive off Mulholland. I was that guy and that entitled me to confront the person I knew was behind it.

“I put it together without having to make a deal with anybody,” I said. “My investigator traced McSweeney. Nine years ago he was arrested for an ADW and who was his attorney? Mitch Lester, your husband. The next year he was popped again for fraud and once again it was Mitch Lester on the case. There’s the connection. It makes a nice little triangle, doesn’t it? You have access to and control of the jury pool and the selection process. You can get into the computers and it was you who planted the sleeper on my jury. Jerry Vincent paid you but then he changed his mind after the FBI came sniffing around. You couldn’t run the risk that Jerry might get jammed up with the FBI and try to deal a judge to them. So you sent McSweeney.

“Then, when it all turned to shit yesterday, you decided to clean house. You sent McSweeney – juror number seven – after Elliot and Albrecht, and then me. How am I doing, Judge? I miss anything so far?”

I said the word “judge” like it had the same meaning as garbage. She stood up.

“This is insane. You have no evidence connecting me to anyone but my husband. And making the leap from one of his clients to me is completely absurd.”

“You’re right, Judge. I don’t have evidence but we’re not in court here. This is just you and me. I just have my gut instincts and they tell me that this all comes back to you.”

“I want you to leave now.”

“But the feds on the other hand? They have McSweeney.”

I could see it strike fear in her eyes.

“Guess you haven’t heard from him, have you? Yeah, I don’t think they’re letting him make any calls while they debrief him. You better hope he doesn’t have any of that evidence. Because if he puts you in that triangle, then you’ll be trading your black robe for an orange jumpsuit.”

“Get out or I will call courthouse security and have you arrested!”

She pointed toward the door. I calmly and slowly stood up.

“Sure, I’ll go. And you know something? I may never practice law again in this courthouse. But I promise you that I’ll come back to watch you prosecuted. You and your husband. Count on it.”

The judge stared at me, her arm still extended toward the door, and I saw the anger in her eyes slowly change to fear. Her arm drooped a little and then she let it drop all the way. I left her standing there.

I took the stairs all the way down because I didn’t want to get on a crowded elevator. Eleven flights down. At the bottom I pushed through the glass doors and left the courthouse. I pulled my phone and called Patrick and told him to pull the car around. Then I called Bosch.

“I decided to light a fire under you and the bureau,” I told him.

“What do you mean? What did you do?”

“I didn’t want to wait around while the bureau took its usual year and a half to make a case. Sometimes justice can’t wait, Detective.”

“What did you do, Haller?”

“I just had a conversation with Judge Holder – yes, I figured it out without McSweeney’s help. I told her the feds had McSweeney and he was cooperating. If I were you and the bureau, I’d hurry the fuck up with your case and in the meantime keep tabs on her. She doesn’t seem like a runner to me, but you never know. Have a good day.”

I closed the phone before he could protest my actions. I didn’t care. He had used me the whole time. It felt good to turn the tables on him, make him and the FBI do the dancing at the end of the string.

PART SIX

– The Last Verdict

Fifty-four

Bosch knocked on my door early Thursday morning. I hadn’t combed my hair yet but I was dressed. He, on the other hand, looked like he had pulled an all-nighter.

“I wake you?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“I have to get my kid ready for school.”

“That’s right. Wednesday nights and every other weekend.”

“What’s up, Detective?”

“I’ve got a couple of questions and I thought you might be interested in knowing where things stand on everything.”

“Sure. Let’s sit out here. I don’t want her hearing this.”

I patted down my hair as I walked toward the table.

“I don’t want to sit,” Bosch said. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

He turned to the railing and leaned his elbows down on it. I changed directions and did the same thing right next to him.

“I don’t like to sit when I’m out here either.”

“I have the same sort of view at my place,” he said. “Only it’s on the other side.”

“I guess that makes us flip sides of the same mountain.”

He turned his eyes from the view to me for a moment.

“Something like that,” he said.

“So, what’s happening? I thought you’d be too angry with me to ever tell me what was going on.”

“Truth is, I think the bureau moves too slowly myself. They didn’t like what you did very much but I didn’t mind. It got things rolling.”