Iris’s chambers.
I’d been back here once with Teddy for a pretrial conference. Catherine
Iris was in her late fifties, a former big-firm partner regarded by the defense
bar as generally fair. Unlike many judges, she seemed to care what
the lawyers who practiced in her courtroom thought of her. This made
Teddy uneasy. He always felt most comfortable when a judge was out to
screw him. “Because then you don’t let your guard down for a second,
which you might do if you start thinking of the judge as your friend,”
he said. “Never put your head in the tiger’s mouth.”
Melanie knocked, and we went in. Judge Iris sat behind a desk the
size of a Suburban. Her robe hung from a coat stand by the door. She
wore a V-necked cream-colored sweater and gray slacks. “Sit down,”
she said, watching me with troubled eyes.
I perched on the couch in front of her desk. Melanie hesitated, then
sat next to me. I moved over but I was still closer to her than either
of us wanted.
“Your brother was—is—a very—skilled lawyer.” Judge Iris chose
her words carefully. “There are going to be a lot of sad faces over at
the jail today. And around here, too,” she hastened to add. “It’s been
an education to see him at work. All these years I’ve heard about the
magic, but I’ve never had Teddy Maxwell in my courtroom until these
last few weeks.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“I take it you’re here today to stand in for him.”
“That’s right. Mr. Bradley has retained me to represent him. I’ve
had my bar results for”—I made a show of checking the date on my
watch—“six days now.”
“Your Honor, the state intends to move for a mistrial,” Melanie
interjected. “Without prejudice, of course. We’ll plan on retrying Mr.
Bradley as soon as possible.”
“All that’s left is the closing argument,” I said reasonably. “My client
wants to proceed.”
Melanie sat back and was suddenly much closer to me. “There
isn’t a person with a pulse in the city who hasn’t heard about this
shooting.”
“We can poll the jury,” Judge Iris said.
I had no doubt that Judge Iris and Melanie were capable of this
same dialogue without my participation. Still, I had my arguments
prepared, and thought I might as well use them. “The way I see it,
Your Honor, there’s no clear prejudice either way. The DA may not
like how the evidence came in, but that’s neither here nor there. This
horrible event shouldn’t be an opportunity for the state to take another
crack at Mr. Bradley. Whatever happened to my brother, it wasn’t Mr.
Bradley’s fault, and as long as he doesn’t consent to a mistrial, the state
shouldn’t be able to try him again. He has a constitutional right to a
speedy trial and not to be put in jeopardy twice for the same offense,
and he wishes to assert those rights and move forward.”
Judge Iris looked at Melanie with raised eyebrows. “Counselor?”
I felt my first ruddy flush of success, like good Scotch spreading
warmth from the pit of my stomach.
Melanie shrugged. “If Mr. Bradley wants to roll the dice, I’m happy
to let him. I feel pretty good about the way the evidence came in. I
thought we were doing Mr. Bradley a favor by offering a mistrial. If your
client wants to turn down that offer, the state is content to proceed.”
Judge Iris was waiting for her to finish. “We’ll poll the jury. You can
make your mistrial motion, Ms. McRae, and I’ll consider it based on
what the jurors say, if the shooting will prejudice them either for or
against Mr. Bradley. I assume your advice to your client about proceeding
would change, Mr. Maxwell, if my polling indicates that this
event has turned a significant number of jurors against your client.”
“Yes, Your Honor, I suppose it would have to change.”
“All right, then. Let’s go out there, and we’ll call in the jury, and
I’ll ask them what they’ve heard about the shooting and whether that
news will affect their
I’d been back here once with Teddy for a pretrial conference. Catherine
Iris was in her late fifties, a former big-firm partner regarded by the defense
bar as generally fair. Unlike many judges, she seemed to care what
the lawyers who practiced in her courtroom thought of her. This made
Teddy uneasy. He always felt most comfortable when a judge was out to
screw him. “Because then you don’t let your guard down for a second,
which you might do if you start thinking of the judge as your friend,”
he said. “Never put your head in the tiger’s mouth.”
Melanie knocked, and we went in. Judge Iris sat behind a desk the
size of a Suburban. Her robe hung from a coat stand by the door. She
wore a V-necked cream-colored sweater and gray slacks. “Sit down,”
she said, watching me with troubled eyes.
I perched on the couch in front of her desk. Melanie hesitated, then
sat next to me. I moved over but I was still closer to her than either
of us wanted.
“Your brother was—is—a very—skilled lawyer.” Judge Iris chose
her words carefully. “There are going to be a lot of sad faces over at
the jail today. And around here, too,” she hastened to add. “It’s been
an education to see him at work. All these years I’ve heard about the
magic, but I’ve never had Teddy Maxwell in my courtroom until these
last few weeks.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“I take it you’re here today to stand in for him.”
“That’s right. Mr. Bradley has retained me to represent him. I’ve
had my bar results for”—I made a show of checking the date on my
watch—“six days now.”
“Your Honor, the state intends to move for a mistrial,” Melanie
interjected. “Without prejudice, of course. We’ll plan on retrying Mr.
Bradley as soon as possible.”
“All that’s left is the closing argument,” I said reasonably. “My client
wants to proceed.”
Melanie sat back and was suddenly much closer to me. “There
isn’t a person with a pulse in the city who hasn’t heard about this
shooting.”
“We can poll the jury,” Judge Iris said.
I had no doubt that Judge Iris and Melanie were capable of this
same dialogue without my participation. Still, I had my arguments
prepared, and thought I might as well use them. “The way I see it,
Your Honor, there’s no clear prejudice either way. The DA may not
like how the evidence came in, but that’s neither here nor there. This
horrible event shouldn’t be an opportunity for the state to take another
crack at Mr. Bradley. Whatever happened to my brother, it wasn’t Mr.
Bradley’s fault, and as long as he doesn’t consent to a mistrial, the state
shouldn’t be able to try him again. He has a constitutional right to a
speedy trial and not to be put in jeopardy twice for the same offense,
and he wishes to assert those rights and move forward.”
Judge Iris looked at Melanie with raised eyebrows. “Counselor?”
I felt my first ruddy flush of success, like good Scotch spreading
warmth from the pit of my stomach.
Melanie shrugged. “If Mr. Bradley wants to roll the dice, I’m happy
to let him. I feel pretty good about the way the evidence came in. I
thought we were doing Mr. Bradley a favor by offering a mistrial. If your
client wants to turn down that offer, the state is content to proceed.”
Judge Iris was waiting for her to finish. “We’ll poll the jury. You can
make your mistrial motion, Ms. McRae, and I’ll consider it based on
what the jurors say, if the shooting will prejudice them either for or
against Mr. Bradley. I assume your advice to your client about proceeding
would change, Mr. Maxwell, if my polling indicates that this
event has turned a significant number of jurors against your client.”
“Yes, Your Honor, I suppose it would have to change.”
“All right, then. Let’s go out there, and we’ll call in the jury, and
I’ll ask them what they’ve heard about the shooting and whether that
news will affect their
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