Mistaken Identity

“Call off the dogs, Millie. Get back to work, Ronald. I can handle Ms. Rosato on my own. She’s not the first lawyer unhappy with one of my rulings and she’s not quite so terrifying as she thinks.”

“Yes, Judge.” The secretary nodded, withdrawing and closing the door after her.

Judge Guthrie cleared his throat. “I anticipated your displeasure with my order. It wasn’t an easy decision, given my sympathy for your recent loss, and we do have history, you and I, don’t we?”

“Yes, we do.”

“I’m fond of you, Ms. Rosato. I tell you that directly. However, I had to deny your motion to withdraw. Recall that I granted your earlier motion to step in as defendant’s counsel. Less than a week later, you move to step out. I can’t sanction that sort of conduct. It would create havoc, not only with my calendar but with the rights of criminal defendants.”

“But, Judge, you read the papers. Surely you’ve seen that there are extenuating circumstances in this case. I admit it, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place.”

“You mean the ‘twin murder case.’ I would prefer to avoid tabloid journalism, though it’s impossible these days.” Judge Guthrie shook his head, his wispy white hair bright in the light of chambers. “No, it was imprudent of you to become involved in the Co

“No. She wants me to remain her counsel.”

“I assumed as much.” Judge Guthrie nodded. “I couldn’t very well grant that withdrawal motion then, now could I?”

Be

Judge Guthrie stiffened. “I’m not in the habit of scheduling my cases around counsel’s availability. That’s the cart before the horse, my dear. I told you in open court we couldn’t have further delays in this matter, and we ca

“I don’t believe that’s the real reason, Judge.”

“The real reason? My then, what’s the real reason, Ms. Rosato?”

Be

“My, that’s quite a theory.” Judge Guthrie smiled faintly and replaced the book. Only when it was completely ensconced did he turn and face Be

Be

“I see. Well. If you suspect these terrible things, why don’t you go ahead and file a charge?” Judge Guthrie eased his glasses off his nose and cleaned them by blowing softly in one lens then the other, two shallow puffs of breath. “Why storm in here like gangbusters, to no result?”

Be

“Ah.” The judge held up a bony hand, from which his tortoiseshell glasses dangled. “You mean you have no proof. You have only your suspicion, unsubstantiated, and that’s what motivates you. You disagree with my order, so you charge into my office. You come without opposing counsel. You make scurrilous allegations. Lawyers lose their licenses for such conduct, you know.”

“They tried that already. It didn’t work.”

“You are in quite a state, aren’t you?” Judge Guthrie rolled out his leather desk chair and eased into it. His desk was dotted with gift gavels in malachite and crystal, anchored by a large porcelain lamp. Its light glinted on a lacquered set of brass scales, an award from the bar association. “I remember how I felt when my mother passed away. It fell to me to make the arrangements for my mother’s funeral. Yet I worked throughout, at the firm, for I had clients depending on me. It wasn’t a responsibility I took lightly, nor was the responsibility I bore my family. I never take my responsibilities lightly, whether they be to my clients or to my family.”

Be

“My, my.” Judge Guthrie replaced his glasses as he gazed out his office window. The Criminal Justice Center was located on a side street in a city struggling to keep business from escaping to the suburbs. There was no view except for the shadowy windows of the vacant office building across the way. The judge seemed momentarily lost to Be

“Who are you protecting, Judge? What do they have on you?”

“My, my, my,” Judge Guthrie said, tenting his fingers as he focused outside the window. “Grief is a fu

Be

“I do hope you feel better, Ms. Rosato. I did send your mother some lovely flowers, you know. Lest you think me a wicked man.” Judge Guthrie swiveled to face Be

“We are what we do,” she said, and left the judge hiding behind his awards.

“Be

Be

“No comment,” she murmured as she pushed through the revolving door into her lobby and crossed to the elevator bank. The doors opened, and Be

“Yes, sure,” Marshall said. She slipped a strand of hair behind a pierced ear, gathered the mail, and handed it over. “I’m so sorry-”