Sharon Hart seethed. I composed my face into the mask I reserved for such occasions.
“Or maybe,” Pisano said, “there’s another reason for this motion. Mr. Rios here is not unknown. He was one of the lawyers who knocked the sodomy initiative off the ballot a couple of years ago. He represents a powerful constituency.”
“I hardly see-” the judge began.
“Your Honor, if I may finish,” Pisano cut in, his voice darkening theatrically. “Let me suggest that this motion is the result of political pressure on the P.D.’s office by the gay community to let Mr. Rios try the case…” Again Pisano let the end of his sentence trail off suggestively.
I heard the rustling of papers in the gallery as the reporters scribbled their notes. Pisano would make the news tonight.
“I really must object,” Sharon Hart said. “That remark is completely improper.”
The judge glowered at the D.A. “Mr. Pisano, that comment is not well taken.”
“My apologies,” the D.A. said smoothly. “Perhaps I spoke out of turn. But the court must understand the People’s frustration. This motion is so mysterious, Your Honor. I’m completely at a loss as to why a perfectly competent lawyer like Mrs. Hart wants off this case.”
“Mrs. Hart.”
“Your Honor, it took me a minute but I finally understand what the D.A. is up to. He wants me to put on the record why my office can’t represent Mr. Pears. We obviously can’t do that without compromising the defense. This court will simply have to accept my representation that an irreconcilable conflict exists between me and Mr. Pears.”
The judge’s eyebrows darted up. Judges do not appreciate being told what they must accept.
“Nonetheless,” the judge observed, “the motion is discretionary with me.”
Seeing her mistake, Sharon said, “I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise, Judge. I’m just saying the prosecution wants a sneak preview of the defense. They’re not entitled to that.”
Pisano broke in. “Your Honor, as you point out, granting or denying this motion is your choice. I just don’t see how you can make a fair decision based on some vague representation of irreconcilable conflicts. We’re not talking no-fault divorce here.”
“Anything else?” Judge Ryan asked, looking at Hart and Pisano.
“Submitted,” both lawyers said in unison.
The judge stared uneasily into space.
“What’s she thinking?” I whispered.
“She’s thinking that if she grants the motion she’d better have a good reason because the D.A. will file a writ petition in the Court of Appeal before the ink is dry on her order,” Sharon whispered back.
I heard the clink of metal and remembered that Jim Pears, who had been ignored during the hearing, was still sitting at the end of the table.
“What does Jim-” I began.
“Shush,” Sharon snapped. The judge had begun to speak.
“… concerned, Mrs. Hart, that I don’t have enough of a basis to rule intelligently on your motion. Now I can appreciate you not wanting to tip your hand to the prosecution. So what I think I’ll do is take Mr. Rios, you and the reporter into chambers and have you put the conflict on the record. I will then order that portion of the transcript sealed. Is that acceptable?”
I watched the struggle in Sharon’s face. She clearly thought her word that a conflict existed should be enough, but she also wanted to win.
“Yes, Judge,” she said.
“What about the People?” the D.A. asked.
“What about the People?” the judge repeated with exasperation.
“Well, I thought-”
“Nice try, Mr. Pisano,” the judge said. “Court’s in recess. Mrs. Hart, Mr. Rios.”
We followed her back across a corridor into her chambers and sat down while she took off her robe and hung it up. There was a framed law degree on the wall from Stanford and, next to it, a picture of the judge shaking hands with the Democratic governor who had appointed her to the bench. The windows of her office overlooked City Hall and the Times-Mirror Building. She sat down behind a vast rosewood desk.
“All right,” she began briskly. “We’re in chambers on People versus Pears. Mrs. Hart, tell me about this conflict.” The reporter’s fingers flew across the keyboard of her machine as the judge spoke.
“My client refuses to cooperate in preparing a defense,” she said.
“He wants to plead guilty?” the judge asked.
“No, he insists he’s not guilty.”
Judge Ryan grinned. “Most defendants do, Mrs. Hart.”
“That’s not a tenable defense,” Sharon insisted.
The judge nodded, thoughtfully. “Unless you have a secret weapon, the evidence presented at the prelim seems pretty conclusive.”
“There is no secret weapon,” Sharon said. “At least in regards to whether he did it. But, as to why he did it… “ She let the sentence trail off.
“I understand,” the judge said.
We were at a delicate point. Since Judge Ryan would be presiding at the trial there was a limit to what Sharon Hart could disclose to her about the defense without laying the judge open to a charge of being less than completely impartial.
“Anyway,” Sharon continued, “I feel very strongly that I cannot continue to represent Mr. Pears and I think he feels just as strongly that he can’t work with me, either.”
The judge turned to me. “Mr. Rios.”
“I’m willing to try the case on terms set by my client.”
The judge arched an eyebrow. “Have you read the transcript of the preliminary hearing?”
“Yes. However, Judge, whatever the state of the evidence, there comes a point when you have to do what your client wants
— if, in good conscience, you can.”
The judge frowned but said nothing.
“He’s right, Judge,” Sharon said, coming to my rescue. “It’s Jim who’s on trial here.”
The judge looked at the reporter and said, “This is off the record.” The reporter stopped typing and the judge said, “Do you really think Jim Pears has the wherewithal to call the shots in this case?”
Sharon and I exchanged surprised looks.
“Now I know I’m speaking out of turn,” the judge continued, “but when I look at Jim Pears all I see is fear. I’m going to grant your motion, Sharon, and I’ll give you some time to prepare for trial, Mr. Rios, but I want you to know that I feel very strongly that this is not a case that should be coming to trial. There should be a disposition.”
“The D.A.’s not giving an inch from murder one,” Sharon said sourly.
Judge Ryan set her mouth into a grim smile. “The D.A.,” she said, “can be persuaded. All right. You think about what I’ve said, Mr. Rios. Now let’s go out and do this on the record.” “Yes, Judge,” we both chimed.
We preceded her into the court. I asked Sharon what that was all about.
“It sounds to me like she doesn’t want a jury to get their hands on Jim. If I were you, I’d consider waiving a jury and having a court trial.”
I stopped at the table where Jim was sitting and leaned over. “Jim, my name is Henry,” I whispered.
He looked up at me and said, “I didn’t do it.”
5
Sharon Hart’s motion was granted and I was substituted in as Jim Pears’s attorney of record. The trial date was continued to December first to give me time to prepare. After the ruling was made the D.A. stood up.
“Yes, Mr. Pisano,” the judge said.
“The People wish to move to amend the complaint.”
The judge looked annoyed. “This isn’t exactly timely notice, counsel.”
“The Penal Code says the People can move to amend at any time,” Pisano replied blandly.
“There’s a difference between what’s permissible and what’s fair,” she snapped. “What’s your amendment?”