“I take it you’re not here asking for a plea offer yet,” Mimi said. “I know it’s a little early.”
“A plea? I was an ADA for a while. I wouldn’t offer anything for this if I were you.”
“There’s no death penalty here anymore,” Mimi said. “So, you’re right, there isn’t much to talk about. Trials are expensive, though, and nothing is one hundred percent certain in front of a jury. The girl’s family has been through hell already. We could talk. I doubt I could offer him anything that wouldn’t realistically amount to life, but you never know what my boss might agree to.”
“We’ll see,” Aideen said. “I’ve got to run down a few things.”
“Can I ask you . . . ,” Mimi started, then trailed off.
“How I got this dog of a case?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve known Joe a long time. We worked together, and he helped pull me through a bad time when my husband was dying. It kind of fell into my lap otherwise.”
“I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m sorry about your client too,” Mimi said, as if also commenting on a person who had died. “He seems like a likable guy. I don’t know if I was surprised when the blood came back to him, but he doesn’t seem like the type who would do these things.”
“I’m hoping he isn’t.”
“He is,” Mimi said with a polite but cold air of finality. “He’s a nice guy; he held it together for a long time. But there was something underneath. Something undetonated but ready to go off. Twice last month, it did.”
“Like a time bomb, I know. I’ve heard that.”
“I can’t look at evidence like this and think anything else.”
Aideen nodded and slid the DNA report into her briefcase. “Understood.”
“I hope he’s paying you, at least.”
“He’s doing what they all do when they’re white and middle aged,” Aideen said. She was a bit unsure if that was appropriate, but Mimi had a reputation of being pretty down to earth.
“Borrowed against the house,” Mimi said.
“Yep. His only asset. So, yeah, I’m retained. He could do better, though. I think half the reason I’m on it is because it looks so hopeless.”
“Oh, I know a few hustlers who would take it on. They’d really clean him out, though.”
“It’s a hell of a way to start a defense practice,” Aideen said. “Thanks again. I hope we can keep it this friendly.”
“Do what you have to do,” Mimi said and offered her hand. “Discovery will be on time. I don’t go in for tricks.”
“Probably no need for tricks on this one, but thanks. Listen, would you hold off on an indictment if I waive 180.80?” By this, Aideen meant waiving the statutory requirement that a defendant in custody be indicted within roughly five days.
“As long as he stays at Rikers, sure. Just get me the paperwork today or tomorrow.”
“Thanks. It’ll buy me some time.”
“Good luck with whatever that time is for,” Mimi said as Aideen stood to leave and gathered her briefcase and purse.
“Hope springs eternal. Take care.”
CHAPTER 45
Friday, August 18, 2017
Anna M. Kross Center, Rikers Island East River in the Bronx 10:17 a.m.
“Yo, DeSantos,” a familiar voice, low and smooth, called out. Lying on his narrow bed on the common floor of the dormitory, Joe set his book down. It was Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations, which, among other things, advised that suicide was an honorable end in certain circumstances. Joe wasn’t suicidal, though. He was further from suicidal than he had been in weeks.
“Hey, Kamal.”
Kamal was about thirty-five, muscular and dark complected with strong features and quick, smart eyes. He was the closest Joe had to a friend in Rikers. He sat down on the next cot over and intertwined his fingers. Like many Black inmates, he wore a do-rag. “What do you know about educational law? I mean . . . things kids should be entitled to if they’re disabled.”
“I know a little,” he said, sitting up to face Kamal in a mirrored position. There were ways of showing respect in Rikers, and Joe had picked up on them with an ease that surprised him. “If it’s okay to ask, is this about your nephew?”
Kamal nodded, a cloud over his face. “Yeah. My sister’s getting him screened, but it looks like autism.”