Read Online Legal Thriller: Michael Gresham: Secrets Girls Keep: A Courtroom Drama (Michael Gresham Legal Thriller Series Book 2) by John Ellsworth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Ellsworth
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largesse from the midnight drug transaction. Now that would be a great help to the defense of Guy. It would mean the charges would be dismissed, the boat returned, and Guy sent sailing away.
He should be so lucky.
Still, I am waiting.
11
I file a motion to dismiss the case against Guy Lafitte. The basis for my motion is that the state has failed to provide me with the sample I requested for testing. My request was in writing and I attached a copy with my motion. The law is very clear.
That motion is argued and I win. The case against Lafitte, the drug dealer of the bad bank checks is dismissed. With prejudice, once the state admits the contraband is missing from the police evidence room. Evidently they've done a search of the entire storage building and Lafitte's cocaine was clocked in but then disappeared. It's simply run off on its own, we are led by the state to believe. The judge is disgusted and the case is over.
Interestingly enough, I have a visit from my Vietnamese friend Phun Loc that same afternoon. The grand jury has declined to prosecute her. She believes it's because they have "obeyed the First Amendment and let her have free speech." She says she hasn't been back near the President's house since the grand jury call. I believe that's why she hasn't been indicted. The Secret Service subpoenas loonies and forces them to appear for grand jury testimony and that puts the fear of God in them. It's got nothing to do with the First Amendment and I tell her so.
Deaf ears. She's determined her First Amendment rights have carried the day.
She says she's planning to return to the sidewalk in front of his house.
I tell her that would be a huge mistake.
She laughs and tosses her head. She leaves my office.
I cross her off my possible client list. I won't be there for her when she comes back, her tail between her legs. And she will be back.
The Secret Service, like Neil Young’s rust, never sleeps.
12
A fter I finish up with a police interview at County, I hurry back to my office on LaSalle Street to prepare for Jana Emerich.
"Morning, Mrs. Lingscheit!" I sing out to my secretary/receptionist as I come through the doors.
"You're in Cook County in twenty minutes," she says, the telephone jammed to her ear and her hand over the mouthpiece. "Better move it, bub."
Inside my office I find Dania--Danny--waiting. We've been married about two years now and my life is better than it has ever been. Our daughter makes our lives wonderful and our family is what I live and breathe for anymore.
"How'd it go?" she asks.
"Meekins, no bail. Lafitte two million."
"Lafitte is the guy who took a check on a drug deal?"
"Yep."
"Seriously, someone needs to send him back to Drug Dealer one-oh-one. He definitely needs a refresher course."
Danny is wonderfully tall and lean--the baby fat is all but worked away--and is my brilliant law partner. She started out in my office as a newbie looking for work and immediately proved her value to my practice ten times over. She is in her early forties, blond hair brushed on top to one side, and there is always a natural blush of color in her cheeks. She is quick to laugh and slow to anger, though I've seen her unload on one unfortunate who came into our office and offended her with excuses for domestic violence. He had no idea what kind of fuse he was lighting off. He hasn't been back.
She hands me a coffee to go and we head for the parking garage. On the way out to California Avenue and the Cook County Court, we talk about Jana's upcoming appearance.
Here's the deal. Seventeen-year-olds in Illinois charged with first degree murder are automatically transferred from juvenile court to adult court. Because Jana is seventeen, he qualifies. Meaning, the fact he hasn't reached adulthood doesn't stand in the way of the state trying him as an adult.
Danny insisted on going with me to court when she heard about Father Bjorn and his son. She loves Father Bjorn like I do and would do just about
He should be so lucky.
Still, I am waiting.
11
I file a motion to dismiss the case against Guy Lafitte. The basis for my motion is that the state has failed to provide me with the sample I requested for testing. My request was in writing and I attached a copy with my motion. The law is very clear.
That motion is argued and I win. The case against Lafitte, the drug dealer of the bad bank checks is dismissed. With prejudice, once the state admits the contraband is missing from the police evidence room. Evidently they've done a search of the entire storage building and Lafitte's cocaine was clocked in but then disappeared. It's simply run off on its own, we are led by the state to believe. The judge is disgusted and the case is over.
Interestingly enough, I have a visit from my Vietnamese friend Phun Loc that same afternoon. The grand jury has declined to prosecute her. She believes it's because they have "obeyed the First Amendment and let her have free speech." She says she hasn't been back near the President's house since the grand jury call. I believe that's why she hasn't been indicted. The Secret Service subpoenas loonies and forces them to appear for grand jury testimony and that puts the fear of God in them. It's got nothing to do with the First Amendment and I tell her so.
Deaf ears. She's determined her First Amendment rights have carried the day.
She says she's planning to return to the sidewalk in front of his house.
I tell her that would be a huge mistake.
She laughs and tosses her head. She leaves my office.
I cross her off my possible client list. I won't be there for her when she comes back, her tail between her legs. And she will be back.
The Secret Service, like Neil Young’s rust, never sleeps.
12
A fter I finish up with a police interview at County, I hurry back to my office on LaSalle Street to prepare for Jana Emerich.
"Morning, Mrs. Lingscheit!" I sing out to my secretary/receptionist as I come through the doors.
"You're in Cook County in twenty minutes," she says, the telephone jammed to her ear and her hand over the mouthpiece. "Better move it, bub."
Inside my office I find Dania--Danny--waiting. We've been married about two years now and my life is better than it has ever been. Our daughter makes our lives wonderful and our family is what I live and breathe for anymore.
"How'd it go?" she asks.
"Meekins, no bail. Lafitte two million."
"Lafitte is the guy who took a check on a drug deal?"
"Yep."
"Seriously, someone needs to send him back to Drug Dealer one-oh-one. He definitely needs a refresher course."
Danny is wonderfully tall and lean--the baby fat is all but worked away--and is my brilliant law partner. She started out in my office as a newbie looking for work and immediately proved her value to my practice ten times over. She is in her early forties, blond hair brushed on top to one side, and there is always a natural blush of color in her cheeks. She is quick to laugh and slow to anger, though I've seen her unload on one unfortunate who came into our office and offended her with excuses for domestic violence. He had no idea what kind of fuse he was lighting off. He hasn't been back.
She hands me a coffee to go and we head for the parking garage. On the way out to California Avenue and the Cook County Court, we talk about Jana's upcoming appearance.
Here's the deal. Seventeen-year-olds in Illinois charged with first degree murder are automatically transferred from juvenile court to adult court. Because Jana is seventeen, he qualifies. Meaning, the fact he hasn't reached adulthood doesn't stand in the way of the state trying him as an adult.
Danny insisted on going with me to court when she heard about Father Bjorn and his son. She loves Father Bjorn like I do and would do just about
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