CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
On the night of October 1, Jim sat alone on his patio watching the full moon rise over Pacific Beach and throwing back too much scotch. The night was crisp with fall dampness and musty with wood smoke from his neighbor’s fireplaces, and he pulled his chair closer to the outdoor gas heater and wished he could turn off his brain. He was overwhelmed by too many thoughts and too many emotions flooding him relentlessly.
He wanted to stop picturing Sarah as she had argued for Alexa’s bail at the hearing that morning, now rail-thin, wearing a deep violent suit that screamed expensive and so focused that she seemed unaware of his presence beside her at the defense table. She had studiously avoided him since the Friday night she’d come to Alexa’s room alone and had asked him to leave. He’d called her a dozen times since then, asking to help her prepare for this hearing, but she’d refused his assistance and told him to concentrate on his analysis of Brigman’s bank records instead.
Judge Tomlinson had listened thoughtfully to their witnesses, Tammi Linders and Greg Olson the EMT, whose tracheotomy had saved Alexa’s life. He quietly questioned Dr. Bruce Herbert, the head of emergency medicine at USCD, who had explained how the jail obtained Alexa’s medical records before their psychiatrist, Dr. Joe, Cox had prescribed the Lexapro.
Prosecutors are rarely on the losing side of a case, Jim thought, as another long sip of scotch sent fiery comfort through his veins. Preston Baldwin had been obviously reluctant to call Dr. Cox to the witness stand to explain himself. Tomlinson had questioned him sharply after Sarah had made him obviously uncomfortable on cross-examination. Hadn’t he read the records from USCD? Why had he ignored Alexa Reed’s previous problem with Lexapro? Why had the jail staff waited to summon an ambulance?
In closing argument, Preston Baldwin had harped on Alexa’s intelligence which Baldwin had insisted gave her the ability to fake mental illness, only to be sharply interrupted by Judge Tomlinson.
“Are you claiming, Mr. Baldwin, this woman faked the need for an emergency operation in the back of an ambulance after the administration of Dr. Cox’s prescription?”
“Uh, no, Your Honor.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that because for a moment I thought you had taken leave of your senses. Get to the point, Mr. Baldwin.”
Although as a former FBI agent, Jim had spent most of his career working on the prosecutor’s side, he enjoyed watching this particular one squirm. He sensed Preston Baldwin realized the need to hurry up and sit down.
“My point, Your Honor, is that Mrs. Reed should not be allowed to be out of custody. She is an extremely clever woman, and there is a high likelihood she won’t show up for trial if she’s released. And above all, Ms. Knight has not shown any possibility that her client may be innocent, and without that showing Mrs. Reed is not eligible for bail.”
Judge Tomlinson turned quickly to Sarah, after she replaced Preston Baldwin at the podium. “I’d like to hear you address that last point, Ms. Knight. What evidence can you point to that might acquit your client?”
“At the moment, the best evidence I have is protected by attorney work product, Your Honor. I’m not prepared to give away my theory of my client’s defense this morning.”
The judge frowned. “I am assuming you are referring to the bank documents from Ronald Brigman’s accounts that you subpoenaed.”
“Again, Your Honor, I cannot give away my strategy in this hearing. I will remind you we also have a ballistics expert, and Jordan Stewart is appointed to work for the defense. I will have a case to present at trial.”
“So am I just supposed to take your word for it that your client might not be guilty?”
“I’d suggest you look at the facts as we know them,” Sarah said. Jim marveled at the way her voice never wavered. “She called the police when she found Michael Reed, she notified them of her whereabouts, she went in voluntarily for questioning. She is a woman of considerable achievement as an attorney and is an officer of the court in multiple jurisdictions. She dose not fit the profile of a multiple murderer.”
The judge leaned back in his chair and studied Sarah thoughtfully for a few minutes. “Do you have anything else to add?”
“Only that the interests of justice are best served if my client survives to go to trial, and the jail has raised considerable doubts about its ability to make that happen.”
“What if I lift the medication order?”
“If you don’t, I’m going to take an immediate writ to the court of appeal, regardless of the outcome of this hearing. Alexa Reed should never have been given any type of psychotropic drugs. And ordering any more of them is just giving the state a second chance to accomplish what it failed to do this time.”
Jim could see her tough tone surprised the judge. He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. After a little pause, he said, “I’m going to retire to chambers to consider the evidence.”
Ten minutes passed while Sarah ignored him by reading over the notes on her legal paid and scrolling through the email on her phone. Was she looking for messages from David Scott? Jim tried not to think about that as he worked to resist the spell of her gardenia perfume. To take his mind off Sarah, he concentrated on Alexa’s face as he’d said goodby to her in the hospital last night in the dim glow of the little pink night light that seemed to bring her such comfort.
“Do you think we’ll win?” She looked wistful and sad. “I don’t know how I’d be able to handle another day in that cell.”
Jim patted her hand and tried to give her a reassuring smile, although he guessed she knew how uncertain he felt. “If anyone can get you out, Sarah can.”
Suddenly the door to the inner sanctum opened, and the clerk announced Judge Tomlinson was ordering the attorneys into his chambers. Jim saw Sarah’s hands shaking as she stood up.
“Do you want me to come?” he whispered, noting that Sheriff Dale Spencer, who had been sitting with Preston Baldwin at the prosecution’s table, was following him toward Judge Tomlinson’s chambers.
“Yes.”
The attorneys took the chairs closest to the judge’s desk. Jim and the sheriff sat behind them. Judge Tomlinson did not look happy with any of them. He frowned as he scribbled away on his legal pad, allowing the silence in the room to lengthen into palpable tension for everyone present.
Finally he whipped off his half-glasses, put down his pen, and rubbed his eyes with his chubby fists as if he was unbearably tired. Then he looked at them.
“I’m not happy with this situation.” Judge Tomlinson looked directly at Sheriff Spencer, who opened his mouth only to be admonished, “Don’t say anything. You had your time on the witness stand. I just want to make it clear that my job is not made easier by the obvious bias a segment of the legal community holds against Mrs. Reed. I didn’t enter that order for medication to have it used the way it has been. I don’t want anyone ever to think I knew this was going to happen or that I entertained any possible bias against a defendant in my courtroom. And if you think so, Ms. Knight, you know your job: recuse me.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Jim could see Sarah was gripping her pen to keep her hands steady.
“Judge, I hope you are not suggesting that I – ” Preston Baldwin began, but Judge Tomlinson raised his hand.
“I didn’t invite you to speak, Mr. Baldwin. Argument, like testimony, is closed.” Judge Tomlinson leaned over his legal pad, folded his hands and said, “This is what I am going to do, and I don’t like doing it. But I’ve been left with little choice. I’m going to release Alexa Reed on house arrest with GPS monitoring.”
“And the amount of her bail, Your Honor?” Preston Baldwin frowned.
“I’m not setting bail. She can’t afford any. I already know that because she has appointed counsel.”
“But you can’t do that.”
“Well, then go get yourself a writ from the court of appeal and tell the justices up there the jail nearly killed her before she ever got to trial because your expert insisted she be medicated and I listened to him. Go right ahead, Mr. Baldwin.”
Jim saw the prosecutor swallow hard as he realized he was out of options.
“Now, Ms. Knight. I don’t have to tell you about your responsibilities here.”
“No, Your Honor.”
“And I’m not going to be generous with continuances. I’ve had to let a defendant out of custody who probably should be in jail, so I’m going to keep that time to a minimum. That means if you ask for a continuance, you’d better have impeccable grounds to support your request. Do you understand, Ms. Knight?”
“I understand.”
“Your Honor?”
“Yes, Sheriff.”
“I’d like to have some of my deputies stationed outside Mrs. Reed’s residence.”
“And what will that get you? Another chance to put her in the hospital?”
“Your Honor – ”
“If it weren’t for your negligence – and I’m being polite when I use that term – we wouldn’t be here right now. And I wouldn’t be making an order that very well may be illegal, but that no one is going to take to the court of appeal because everyone is too ashamed of what happened. Now let me be very clear about this: for the rest of this trial, everyone – and I mean everyone – will operate by the book. Am I clear?”
Jim drained the last of his scotch, turned off the gas heater, and headed into the house. It was midnight. And someone was knocking at his door.
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