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Authors: Barbara Levenson
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didn’t know this would be such a scene.”
Lillian and Brett had remained quiet for the entire ride. Lillian was dressed in a dark suit that made her look paler than ususal. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. No amount of makeup could hide them. I kept my fingers crossed that she could get through the hearing without falling apart like a rootless tree in a windstorm.
We pulled into the garage under the courthouse. It was really the first floor of the building. Those enteringthrough the front doors had to march up thirty steps. The guard in the booth approached my window.
“José, it’s me, Mary. How’ve you been? Listen, I’ve got Lillian Yarmouth here, you know the big case in courtroom 6-1 today. I need to keep the media circus from trapping her.”
“
Oye,
Mary. You know I’d like to help you, but I’m not supposed to let anyone in here who doesn’t have a parking sticker. I could get in trouble, maybe lose my job.”
“José, you could never lose your job. You’ve been here through three different state attorneys. The place can’t run without you. I’ll square everything with the court. You know I’d never hang you out to dry.”
I extended my hand through the window and did the ten-dollar handshake. José pocketed the bill, raised the gate and pointed to a parking place near the freight elevator.
We boarded the creaky freight elevator. I pushed six and kept my finger on the number, hoping to bypass the other floors. We stopped anyway on the first floor, the doors opened, and the noise level exploded over us. I pushed “door close.” We made it to the sixth floor. Most of the crowd of curiosity seekers and media vultures were already in the courtroom holding down prime-time seating.
Lillian’s case had been moved to the ceremonial courtroom to accommodate the crowd. Metal detectors blocked the entrance.
“I thought all the security was at the front doors.” Brett finally had something to say. “That’s where they were when we came for the bond hearing.”
“They’re still there. These are a second set that they use whenever there’s a high-profile case,” I said. I was surprised that this case warranted the extra security, usually reserved for high-level drug dealers or racially inflaming cases.
Lillian and I took our seats at the defense table. Sherry and Brett were seated in the front row right behind us, after I asked “Moe and Curly” to move. Moe and Curly are two of the courthouse regulars. No one is sure of their real names. They attend trials almost every day, using the courts as their regular entertainment. Both appear to be in their eighties. Moe walks with a cane, and Curly is totally bald. They have their favorite lawyers to cheer on. I have been on their list ever since I won a case in which my clients, a retired couple, were accused of running a boiler-room operation selling water purifiers. Moe and Curly admire entrepreneurial skills in fellow retirees.
Karl Morris was seated at the prosecutors’ table flanked by two young lawyers. All three got up and started toward our table. I stood up and extended my hand as they approached.
“Good, morning, Mary. This is Charlene Montavo and Charlie Goldberg. They’ll be assisting me in this case. Lois McIver will be here from the appellate staff at a later time,” Karl said.
I shook hands with each of them. It reminded me of the coin toss before a football game. The big difference was that their team was a lot larger than ours. The bailiff interrupted our ritual.
“All rise. Court is now in session in and for Miami-Dade County. Judge Harvey Arnold presiding. Turn off all pagers and cell phones or they
will
be confiscated. Be seated.”
I drew in my breath. “Is everything okay, Mary?” Lillian tugged on my sleeve.
“Just fine. Sit down. Here’s a pad and pen. If you need to tell me anything, just write it on the pad, so no one else can hear you,” I said.
Things weren’t just fine. Harvey Arnold was a recent addition
Lillian and Brett had remained quiet for the entire ride. Lillian was dressed in a dark suit that made her look paler than ususal. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. No amount of makeup could hide them. I kept my fingers crossed that she could get through the hearing without falling apart like a rootless tree in a windstorm.
We pulled into the garage under the courthouse. It was really the first floor of the building. Those enteringthrough the front doors had to march up thirty steps. The guard in the booth approached my window.
“José, it’s me, Mary. How’ve you been? Listen, I’ve got Lillian Yarmouth here, you know the big case in courtroom 6-1 today. I need to keep the media circus from trapping her.”
“
Oye,
Mary. You know I’d like to help you, but I’m not supposed to let anyone in here who doesn’t have a parking sticker. I could get in trouble, maybe lose my job.”
“José, you could never lose your job. You’ve been here through three different state attorneys. The place can’t run without you. I’ll square everything with the court. You know I’d never hang you out to dry.”
I extended my hand through the window and did the ten-dollar handshake. José pocketed the bill, raised the gate and pointed to a parking place near the freight elevator.
We boarded the creaky freight elevator. I pushed six and kept my finger on the number, hoping to bypass the other floors. We stopped anyway on the first floor, the doors opened, and the noise level exploded over us. I pushed “door close.” We made it to the sixth floor. Most of the crowd of curiosity seekers and media vultures were already in the courtroom holding down prime-time seating.
Lillian’s case had been moved to the ceremonial courtroom to accommodate the crowd. Metal detectors blocked the entrance.
“I thought all the security was at the front doors.” Brett finally had something to say. “That’s where they were when we came for the bond hearing.”
“They’re still there. These are a second set that they use whenever there’s a high-profile case,” I said. I was surprised that this case warranted the extra security, usually reserved for high-level drug dealers or racially inflaming cases.
Lillian and I took our seats at the defense table. Sherry and Brett were seated in the front row right behind us, after I asked “Moe and Curly” to move. Moe and Curly are two of the courthouse regulars. No one is sure of their real names. They attend trials almost every day, using the courts as their regular entertainment. Both appear to be in their eighties. Moe walks with a cane, and Curly is totally bald. They have their favorite lawyers to cheer on. I have been on their list ever since I won a case in which my clients, a retired couple, were accused of running a boiler-room operation selling water purifiers. Moe and Curly admire entrepreneurial skills in fellow retirees.
Karl Morris was seated at the prosecutors’ table flanked by two young lawyers. All three got up and started toward our table. I stood up and extended my hand as they approached.
“Good, morning, Mary. This is Charlene Montavo and Charlie Goldberg. They’ll be assisting me in this case. Lois McIver will be here from the appellate staff at a later time,” Karl said.
I shook hands with each of them. It reminded me of the coin toss before a football game. The big difference was that their team was a lot larger than ours. The bailiff interrupted our ritual.
“All rise. Court is now in session in and for Miami-Dade County. Judge Harvey Arnold presiding. Turn off all pagers and cell phones or they
will
be confiscated. Be seated.”
I drew in my breath. “Is everything okay, Mary?” Lillian tugged on my sleeve.
“Just fine. Sit down. Here’s a pad and pen. If you need to tell me anything, just write it on the pad, so no one else can hear you,” I said.
Things weren’t just fine. Harvey Arnold was a recent addition
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