The judge had fixed a glare on Scott. "Is that an objection, Mr. Fenney?"
"Yes, Your Honor, defense objects. The defendant presents no flight risk and no risk to herself or to the community. Judge, you can't deny bail."
"That federal judge in Houston did."
"What federal judge?"
"It was in the paper this morning, he denied bail to Sir Allen pending his trial."
"Who the hell's Sir Allen?"
"Allen Stanford, he's charged with running a seven-billion-dollar Ponzi scheme."
Scott remembered now. Nick Madden had mentioned him.
"What's that got to do with this case?"
"You said I can't deny bail. If he can, I can."
"Your Honor," the D.A. said, "I read the paper, too. Stanford had private jets at his disposal, he had homes and cash offshore, he had resided outside the U.S. most of the last decade, and he had dual U.S. and Antiguan citizenship. He was a true flight risk. I must agree with Mr. Fenney-there is no flight risk here."
Judge Morgan was not pleased. Her face flushed red and her jaws clenched tight, and Scott thought she might have a Serena moment, but the cameras prevented an injudicious outburst. She glared at the D.A., but he seemed unfazed.
"Fine," the judge said. "Bail is set at one million dollars."
"Your Honor," Scott said, "Ms. Fenney has no assets and cannot satisfy such an onerous bail. We ask that the defendant be released on her personal recognizance."
"PR on a murder charge? I don't think so, Mr. Fenney."
Without breaking eye contact with the judge, Scott reached out to Karen. She slapped a stack of documents in his hand. Scott gave a copy to the D.A. then walked over and handed a copy to the judge. Karen addressed the court from a sitting position.
"Your Honor, this is our brief on bail. The U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Stack v. Boyle in 1951 that bail is excessive in violation of the Bail Clause of the Eighth Amendment if set in an amount exceeding that necessary to ensure the defendant will show up for trial. The Court also ruled that-"
"Your Honor," the Assistant D.A. said, "the defendant is charged with a bloody brutal murder that shocked our community-"
The D.A. was reading the brief. Without looking up, he held up an open hand to his assistant. "Easy, Ted. This is about the law, not those cameras."
"Your Honor," Karen said, "the defendant has resided in Galveston County for almost two years and will continue to reside in the county."
"Not in that house, she won't. So where will she reside?"
"In a vacation house here on the Island. We'll give Mr. Truitt the address."
"If she has no assets, how is she affording that?"
"Your Honor," Scott said, "Ms. Fenney is residing with us. I am also her ex-husband. I rented a house for the summer to try this case. We're all living there, including Ms. Fenney's daughter. She's not going anywhere."
"And she agrees to wear a GPS-tracking ankle bracelet at all times and not to leave the Island," Karen said. "She will surrender her passport to the district attorney."
"Your Honor," the D.A. said, "Mr. Fenney has personally assured me that the defendant will present herself for trial. With the GPS monitor and the passport surrender, the state does not object to release on PR."
"I do. Two hundred fifty thousand. If you object to that bail, Mr. Fenney, you can file your brief with the federal court in Houston. My clerk will give you directions. I think we're done here. I want to see counsel in chambers."
She bolted off the bench and through the side door. She wasn't happy, but neither was Scott. The D.A. stepped over to him.
"You like her already, don't you?" To Karen: "Great brief. You should be a law professor… or better yet, move down here to the Island. I'll fire Ted and hire you."
The deputy sheriff stepped over and took Rebecca by her arm. Her eyes were wide with fear. She grabbed Scott's arm. The deputy tugged gently, but she did not release her grip.
"Scott, please don't let them take me! I can't stay in that jail!"
"You won't have to. I'll bond you out."
"How? Two hundred fifty thousand dollars? You're broke."
"I'll figure something out."
"Scott, please… those women."
The D.A. stepped over to the deputy. "Tell Sarge to put her in a separate cell."
The deputy nodded then pulled Rebecca through the side door. Scott felt the anger rising inside him. An ambitious judge was a dangerous animal.
"Stay calm, Scott," the D.A. said. "So I'm not bailing you out of jail."
The judge was removing her robe when her secretary escorted the prosecution and defense teams into her chambers. Shelby Morgan was lean and wore tight black slacks, black high-heels, and a fitted white blouse. She appeared younger than forty. She hung the robe on a coat rack then sat behind her desk in front of a wide window offering a nice view of Galveston Bay on the north side of the Island. But the judge wasn't in the mood for nice.
"Rex, did you see Renee's report?"
"Yep."
They took seats in front of the desk. The judge stared at the D.A. but pointed at Scott. "Did you let her out on PR because of him?"
"No, Shelby. Because that's the law."
"Maybe so, but you made us look like fools."
"The law has a way of doing that."
"Are we off the record, Judge?" Scott asked.
"Yes."
"Then what the hell's going on?"
"Careful, Mr. Fenney."
"Denying bail, then a million dollars, now two-fifty. The D.A. doesn't object to her release on PR-why are you insisting on bail?"
"She's charged with murder."
"She's not a flight risk or a danger to the community. She's agreed to remain on the Island pending trial-"
"Where? Where on the Island?"
"On the West End, at an undisclosed location. For her safety."
"She'd be safer in jail. Hell, you'd be safer with her in jail."
"You can't set bail to punish the defendant, force her to stay incarcerated through the trial."
"I can't go any lower than that-Renee would have a field day."
"That's grounds for recusal, Judge. Karen, prepare a motion."
The judge's face flashed red again, and this time she did have a Serena moment.
"Don't you fucking dare!"
"Judge, I don't live here. It won't affect my law career, having a judge pissed off at me. My only concern is that the defendant get a fair trial. If you can't give her that because of your concern about the press coverage… or for other personal reasons… then I'll file that motion. And I will take that to the federal court."
"Mr. Fenney, I can hold you in contempt!" She pointed a manicured finger at Scott. "You're not a legend in my courtroom! You're just another goddamned lawyer!"
"Judge, my client-"
"Your wife."
"My client is entitled to a fair trial and I'm gonna make damn sure she gets one. If you can't give her a fair trial, then recuse yourself and let another judge do it."
Judge Shelby Morgan glared at Scott.
"She'll get a fair trial, Mr. Fenney."
When they exited the judge's chambers and walked back into the courtroom, the D.A. whistled and said, "Damn, Scott, you really know how to make a good first impression."
"I try. I figured we might as well clear the air now, before we go to trial."
"Oh, I think you cleared the air all right. But what's the personal reason?"
"The judge and I are both up for a federal judgeship in Dallas."
"Buford's bench?"
Scott nodded. "He's dying."
"Heard he was sick."
"Senator Armstrong said he owes Judge Morgan."
"I expect he does." He didn't elaborate. "So Shelby might be leaving the Island, huh?" The D.A. smiled. "Hell, not all bad news then."
They grabbed their briefcases and the bag of jewelry then opened the courtroom doors and came face to face with a dozen cameras shining bright lights and reporters shoving microphones and shouting questions. Renee Ramirez was the leader of this pack.