Read Online Cookie's Case by Andy Siegel - Free Book Online

begins, “they don’t teach shit like this in law school. This is street law. We’re dealing with a street guy who just happened to get himself a law degree. This thug sees a big, cool fee flashing before his eyes, one he could never achieve on his own. Well, he’s got no problem with ruining your reputation or putting you behind bars to get at it. It’s about cool, quick cash, bro, just that. So, yeah, if this shit happened to me, I’d have the Fidge bring down some curbside justice on this scoundrel. But I never said that.”
    The Fidge is a guy Roscoe and I know who takes care of things that need taking care of, and his reach is long. “You wouldn’t really get the Fidge involved in a civil matter like this, would you?”
    â€œI never said that, did I?” We look at each other.
    â€œCome on, we’ve got to go inside,” he reminds me. “I’m going to cross-examine the shit out of your former client for you.” He turns to go up the courthouse steps.
    â€œYo, Roscoe, I got this one.”
    â€œWhat?” he yells, stopping abruptly.
    â€œI said, I got this one.”
    â€œI’m your lawyer, Tug. That’s what you hired me for.”
    â€œYeah, I know, but my license is on the line here. It’s more than just money involved. I know you’d do a great job in there, but I’ve been handling her underlying case for three years. I know her better than anyone else. Not just stuff in the file you read, but stuff only in my head, and I know how she thinks, too. It’s only right that I do her cross.” It’s a winning argument. Roscoe sighs. He knows me, but still, he wasn’t expecting this.
    â€œOkay, you do it,” he says.
    We walk in together.
    LET THE GAMES BEGIN
    Yesterday was Josefina’s direct exam, when she testified against me with Wilbur feeding her the questions. He was practically moving her mouth with his hand up her ass. It sucked, hearing my client, whom I busted my butt for, claim I did something that I did not do.
    Now, in the courtroom, I look over at Josefina. Even from this distance, I can see her eyes are bloodshot. I’d like to think it was from sleeping badly, owing to a guilty conscience for what she’s attempting to do at the direction of her new lawyer. But I know it’s not. More likely she’s strung out on whatever painkiller cocktail or street drug she’s currently taking.
    As I’m walking toward the trial table, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Shit. I forgot to shut it off when I entered the building. I take it out. It’s a message from Tyler, my wife, who loves me in her special way. It reads: Connor and Penelope are telling all their friends about their new names. You better fix this when you get home. And by the way, you just might as well forget it’s Tuesday .
    Bye, bye, Tuesday Night Hand Job (TNHJ). But that’s the least of my worries at this moment.
    â€œPhone off and away, Mr. Wyler,” instructs Judge Brown, “or it will be confiscated by my court officer.”
    â€œSorry, Your Honor. It was a message of support from my wife. She knows, understands, and appreciates how important this proceeding is.”
    â€œTake your seats, counsel,” Judge Brown says. “Take your seats,” she repeats. This is a nonjury matter, so our little group consists of Wilbur, the court staff, Roscoe, and me. Plus, of course, my former client Josefina Ruiz, who’s sitting in the chair up on the witness stand, minus three toes. It’s also a closed hearing. Meaning that no one else is allowed in, and no one will be able to view the trial transcript. Thank God for that, given the horrible allegation against me.
    In a hearing like this, where the claim is that you told your client to testify to something other than the truth under oath—which you are categorically denying—the credibility of both parties is directly at issue. It’s a