Tracy was at the tail end of a year serving as Oregon Supreme Court Justice Alice Sherzer's law clerk. Judicial clerkships were plums that fell to top law school graduates. Each justice had a clerk who researched complex legal issues, drafted memos about other justices' positions and checked opinion drafts to catch errors before the opinion was published. A judicial clerkship was a demanding, but exciting job that lasted one to two years. Most clerks moved on to good positions with top law firms, which coveted these bright young men and women for their skills as well as their intimate knowledge of the way the justices thought.
Laura Rizzatti was as pale as Tracy was tan and possessed the delicate features and soft, rounded figure of a Botticelli model.
When Laura was deep in thought, she played with her long black hair. She had several strands wrapped tightly around her left index finger when Tracy poked her head into Laura's closet-sized office.
"Why are the TV reporters waiting outside?"
Laura dropped the transcript she was reading and rose halfway out of her chair. "Don't do that!"
"Sorry." Tracy laughed, tilting her head sideways to see what had occupied Laura's attention so completely. She saw the title of the case and "Vol. XI" before Laura turned the transcript over so Tracy could no longer read the cover.
"The Deems case?" Tracy said. "I thought we reversed that a month ago."
"We did. What did you just ask me?"
Tracy looked up from the transcript and noticed the dark circles under Laura's eyes. Laura's clothes were disheveled and she looked like she'd been up all night.
"The TV people. What are they doing here?"
"Matthew Reynolds is arguing Franklin v. Pogue at nine."
"Reynolds! Let me know when you go up to court."
"I'm not going."
"How come?"
"Justice Griffen took himself off the case, so there's no reason to sit in on the argument."
"Why'd he recuse himself?."
"His wife is arguing for the state."
"No shit." Tracy laughed.
"No shit," Laura answered bitterly.
"She is one smart cookie."
"She's a bitch. She could have asked another DA to argue the state's position."
"Then Justice Griffen would have sat on the case. Now he can't sit because the state is represented by a member of his family. So she gets rid of the most liberal justice on the court and ups her chance of winning. I call that smart lawyering."
"I think it's unethical."
"Don't take this so personally."
"I'm not," Laura said angrily. "But the judge is such a nice guy. The divorce is eating him up. Pulling a stunt like this is just pouring salt in his wounds."
"Yeah, well, if she's as big a bitch as you say, he's better off without her. And you should see Reynolds argue anyway. He's amazing. Do you know he's been defending death penalty cases all over the United States for twenty years and he's never had a client executed?"
"Reynolds is just another hired gun."
"That's where you're wrong, Laura. These cases are like a mission for him. And he's a genius. Did you read his brief in State v. Aurelio?
His Fifth Amendment argument was absolutely brilliant."
"He's smart, and he might be dedicated, but it's to the wrong cause."
"Don't be so uptight. Listen to the argument. Reynolds is really worth seeing. I'll check with you before I go up." i iiiiiiiiiiiiiii The most conspicuous feature of the Oregon Supreme Court is a stained-glass skylight in the courtroom ceiling that displays the state seal. The stained glass is protected by a second, clear skylight above it. On this sunny day, the light filtering through the two sets of glass cast a soft yellow glow over six justices of the seven-member court as they assembled to hear argument in State ex rel.
Franklin v. Pogue.
Tracy found a seat on a couch against the rear wall of the courtroom just after the justices took their places. The judges sat on an elevated dais that stretched across the courtroom in a gentle curve.
Directly in front of Chief Justice Stuart Forbes was the wooden podium on which Abbie Griffen calmly arranged her papers. When the Chief Justice told her to commence her argument, Abbie said, "If it please the court, my name is Abigail Griffen and I represent the Multnomah County district attorney's office and the interests of Denise Franin. We are asking this court to order trial judge David Pogue to withdraw an order commanding Mrs. Franklin to open her home to forensic experts employed by the defense."
"Judge Pogue was acting on a motion for discovery filed by the defendant, Jeffrey Coulter, wasn't he, Ms. Griffen?" asked Justice Mary Kelly, an attractive woman in her mid-forties who was appointed to the bench after a stellar career in corporate law.
"Yes, Your Honor."
"What was the basis for the discovery motion?"
"According to the affidavit of Mr. Reynolds, the defendant's attorney, Denise Franklin's son, Roger, pi'omised to sell Jeffrey Coulter stolen jewelry. Coulter went to Franklin's house, but Franklin had no jewelry and tried to rob Coulter. Mr. Coulter claims he shot Roger Franklin in self-defense after Franklin shot at him."
"And the defense wants to examine Mrs. Franklin's house for evidence that will corroborate the defendant's story?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
"That seems pretty reasonable to me. What's wrong with Judge Pogue's order?"
"Mrs. Franklin is in mourning, Your Honor. She doesn't want agents of the man who killed her son traipsing through her home."
"We're sympathetic to Mrs. Franklin, Counselor, but it's not unusual for witnesses to also be relatives of a murder victim.
They're inconvenienced all the time by police interviews, the press.
Your people went through the house, didn't they?"
"With Mrs. Franklin's consent and while the house was a crime scene.
It's no longer a crime scene. The state has returned the house to its owner, Mrs. Franklin, who is not a party to the criminal case between the state and Mr. Coulter. A judge doesn't have the power to order a nonparty to let the defense in her house."
"Do you have legal authority for that contention, Counselor?"
Griffen smiled with the confidence of an attorney who has anticipated a question. While she told Justice Kelly about several Oregon cases that supported her position, Tracy looked across the courtroom at Griffen's opponent. The contrast between the two attorneys was stark. Abigail Griffen in her black tailored jacket, black pleated skirt, ivory silk blouse and pearls looked like a fashion model, while Matthew Reynolds in his plain, ill-fitting black suit, white shirt and narrow tie seemed more like a country preacher or an undertaker than America's premier criminal defense attorney.
A question by Justice Arnold Pope pulled Tracy's attention back to the legal argument.
"Mrs. Griffen, when Mr. Coulter was arrested did he claim he acted in self-defense?"
"No, Your Honor."
"Did the police find the gun the defendant's counsel alleges was fired by the deceased?"
"No weapon was found at the scene."
Pope, a barrel-chested ex-DA with a Marine crew cut, furrowed his brow, giving the impression that he was deep in thought. Justice Kelly rolled her eyes. Pope was a mental lightweight who tried to compensate for his lack of intelligence by being arrogant and opinionated. He was on the court because he had defeated a well-respected incumbent in one of the dirtiest judicial races in Oregon history.
"Could this self-defense business be hokum?" Pope asked.
"Yes, Your Honor. We believe Mr. Coulter manufactured the self-defense scenario."
"Perhaps with the assistance of Mr. Reynolds?" Pope asked.
Tracy was shocked by Pope's suggestion that Matthew Reynolds had sworn falsely in his affidavit. Reynolds was rigid, his face flushed.
"There is no evidence that Mr. Reynolds has been less than honorable in this case, Justice Pope," Abbie answered firmly.