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and a desire to get through them in time to get home for dinner before eight. Royce was going to slow things down immeasurably with his request for a full debate on whether Jessup should be allowed his release while awaiting trial. But Firestone, like Royce, was about to get the surprise of the day. If he didn’t make it home in time for dinner, it wouldn’t be because of me.
    Royce asked the judge for an OR, meaning Jessup would have to put up no money as bail and simply be released on his own recognizance. This was just his opener. He fully expected there to be a financial figure attached to Jessup’s freedom, if he was successful at all. Murder suspects didn’t get OR’ed. In the rare instance when bail was granted in a murder case, it usually came with a steep price tag. Whether Jessup could raise the money through his supporters or from the book and movie deals he was supposedly negotiating was not germane to the discussion.
    Royce closed his request by arguing that Jessup should not be considered a flight risk for the very same reason I had outlined to Maggie. He had no interest in running. His only interest was in fighting to clear his name after twenty-four years of wrongful imprisonment.
    “Mr. Jessup has no other purpose at this time than to stay put and prove once and for all that he is innocent and that he has paid a nightmarish price for the mistakes and misconduct of this District Attorney’s Office.”
    The whole time Royce spoke I watched Jessup in the glass cage. He knew the cameras were on him and he maintained a pose of rightful indignation. Despite his efforts, he could not disguise the anger and hate in his eyes. Twenty-four years in prison had made that permanent.
    Firestone finished writing a note and then asked for my response. I stood and waited until the judge looked up at me.
    “Go ahead, Mr. Haller,” he prompted.
    “Judge, providing that Mr. Jessup can show documentation of residence, the state does not oppose bail at this time.”
    Firestone stared at me for a long moment as he computed that my response was diametrically opposite to what he thought it would be. The hushed sounds of the courtroom seemed to get even lower as the impact of my response was understood by every lawyer in the room.
    “Did I get that right, Mr. Haller?” Firestone said. “You are not objecting to an OR release in a murder case?”
    “That is correct, Your Honor. We are fully expecting Mr. Jessup to show for trial. There’s no money in it for him if he doesn’t.”
    “Your Honor!” Royce cried. “I object to Mr. Haller infecting the record with such prejudicial pap directed solely at the media in attendance. My client has no other purpose at this point than—”
    “I understand, Mr. Royce,” Firestone interjected. “But I think you did a fair amount of playing to the cameras yourself. Let’s just leave it at that. Without objection from the prosecution, I am releasing Mr. Jessup on his own recognizance once he provides the clerk with documentation of residence. Mr. Jessup is not to leave Los Angeles County without permission of the court to which his case is assigned.”
    Firestone then referred the case to the clerk of the court’s office for reassignment to another department for trial. We were now finally out of Judge Firestone’s orbit. He could restart the assembly line and get home for dinner. I picked up the files Maggie had left behind and left the table. Royce was back at the seat at the railing, dumping files into a leather briefcase. His young associate was helping him.
    “How did it feel, Mick?” he asked me.
    “What, being a prosecutor?”
    “Yes, crossing the aisle.”
    “Not too much different, to tell you the truth. It was all procedure today.”
    “You will be raked over the coals for letting my client walk out of here.”
    “Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke. Just make sure he stays clean, Clive. If he doesn’t, then my ass really will be thrown on the fire. And so