The Reversal

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I was… I was walking up on that trail and there’s a big tree there-I think a sycamore-and it looks like somebody burned a candle down at its base. I was wondering-”

“Where?”

“Up on Blinderman Trail.”

“Show me.”

“Actually, I’m not going to go all the way back up there. I don’t have the right shoes. It’s the big tree in the middle of the trail. I’m sure you can find it.”

“You can’t light fires in the park!”

The ranger put the top back on the trash can, banging it loudly to underline his statement.

“I know. That’s why I was reporting it. But I wanted to ask you, is there anything special about that tree that would make somebody do that?”

“Every tree is special here. The whole park is special.”

“Yes, I get that. Can you just tell-”

“Can I see some ID, please?”

“Excuse me?”

“ID. I want to see some ID. A man in a shirt and tie walking the trails with ‘the wrong shoes’ is a little bit suspicious to me.”

Bosch shook his head and pulled out his badge wallet.

“Yeah, here’s my ID.”

He opened it and held it out and gave the ranger a few moments to study it. Bosch saw the nameplate on his uniform said Brorein.

“Okay?” Bosch said. “Can we get to my questions now, Officer Brorein?”

“I’m a city ranger, not an officer,” Brorein said. “Is this part of an investigation?”

“No, it’s part of a situation where you just answer my questions about the tree up on that trail.”

Bosch pointed in the direction he had come from.

“You get it now?” he asked.

Brorein shook his head.

“I’m sorry but you’re on my turf here and it’s my obligation to-”

“No, pal, you’re actually on my turf. But thanks for all the help. I’ll make a note of it in the report.”

Bosch walked away from him and headed back toward the parking clearing. Brorein called after him.

“As far as I know, there’s nothing special about that tree. It’s just a tree, Detective Borsh.”

Bosch waved without looking back. He added poor reading skills to the list of things he didn’t like about Brorein.

Seventeen

Wednesday, February 24, 2:15 P.M.

My successes as a defense attorney invariably came when the prosecution was unprepared for and surprised by my moves. The entire government grinds along on routine. Prosecuting violators of the government’s laws is no different. As a newly minted prosecutor I took this to heart and vowed not to succumb to the comfort and dangers of routine. I promised myself that I would be more than ready for clever Clive Royce’s moves. I would anticipate them. I would know them before Royce did. And I would be like a sniper in a tree, waiting to skillfully pick them off from a distance, one by one.

This promise brought Maggie McFierce and me together in my new office for frequent strategy sessions. And on this afternoon the discussion was focused on what would be the centerpiece of our opponent’s pretrial defense. We knew Royce would be filing a motion to dismiss the case. That was a given. What we were discussing were the grounds on which he would make the motion. I wanted to be ready for each one. It is said that in war the sniper ambushes an enemy patrol by first taking out the commander, the radioman and the medic. If he accomplishes this, the remaining members of the patrol panic and scatter. This was what I hoped to quickly do when Royce filed his motion. I wanted to move swiftly and thoroughly with demoralizing arguments and answers that would put the defendant on strong notice that he was in trouble. If I panicked Jessup, I might not even have to go to trial. I might get a disposition. A plea. And a plea was a conviction. That was as good as a win on this side of the aisle.

“I think one thing he’s going to argue is that the charges are no longer valid without a preliminary hearing,” Maggie said. “This will give him two bites out of the apple. He’ll first ask the judge to dismiss but at the very least to order a new prelim.”

“But the verdict of the trial was what was reversed,” I said. “It goes back to the trial and we have a new trial. The prelim is not what was challenged.”

“Well, that’s what we’ll argue.”

“Good, you get to handle that one. What else?”

“I’m not going to keep throwing out angles if you keep giving them back to me to be prepared for. That’s the third one you’ve given me and by my scorecard you’ve only taken one.”

“Okay, I’ll take the next one sight unseen. What do you have?”

Maggie smiled and I realized I had just walked into my own ambush. But before she could pull the trigger, the office door opened and Bosch entered without knocking.

“Saved by the bell,” I said. “Harry, what’s up?”

“I’ve got a witness I think you two should hear. I think he’s going to be good for us and they didn’t use him in the first trial.”

“Who?” Maggie asked.

“Bill Clinton,” Bosch said.

I didn’t recognize the name as belonging to anyone associated with the case. But Maggie, with her command of case detail, brought it together.

“One of the tow truck drivers who worked with Jessup.”

Bosch pointed at her.