Free Fatal February by Barbara Levenson

measures, how about having her report to a community control officer twice a week?” I asked.
    The judge scratched his head, looking around the courtroom for help. He looked at Lillian for a long minute. Then he spoke in a soft voice. “Mrs. Yarmouth, I think I can trust that you will show up in court for all hearings. You’ve posted a large bond. If you fail to appear, the courts and/or the bondsman would own your home. That is safeguard enough. I will remove the electronic monitor. You will report to an officer every Monday morning at nine a.m.”
    “Oh, thank you, Your Honor. You won’t be sorry,” Lillian said, and for the first time since I met her, she smiled.
    “I can’t believe it,” Karl muttered as he left the lectern.
    “I beg your pardon. Would you like to repeat that, so everyone can hear, including the court reporter in case she missed that,” the judge said.
    “I have a few more matters to address, YourHonor,” I said, “if the state would return to the lectern.”
    “Maybe you should quit while you’re ahead,” the judge said. He was beginning to enjoy himself. He relaxed and leaned back in his chair.
    “I don’t have the luxury of quitting, Judge. My client is charged with a heinous crime of which she is not guilty. There is not one iota — not one scintilla — of evidence that she is the perpetrator.”
    “Your Honor,” Karl interrupted, “she’s making a speech for the press.”
    “I resent that, Judge. I am sworn to be an advocate for my client. That’s what I am doing.”
    Of course I was hoping the press had picked up on my remarks, but if not, there was always the press conference after court.
    “I have asked for immediate discovery, and I note that none has been given. I plan to take depositions as soon as I can serve the state’s witnesses. I am especially eager to get the tape of the nine-one-one call to the Miami Police, where we will hear Mrs. Yarmouth’s voice. She reported finding her husband’s body. I am asking the court to instruct the police department not to destroy that tape.”
    “So ordered,” said Judge Arnold. “State, why didn’t you turn over your witness list and other discovery this morning when you filed the indictment? Isn’t that how it’s usually done?”
    “Well, Judge, we’re working on it. It should beready in about ten days,” Karl said. He was looking down at his shoes.
    “Then, if I can’t have discovery right away, I am asking the court for a preliminary hearing. I know this is rarely done under our state system. That’s because we have full discovery in criminal cases including depositions, but the prosecution is trying to stonewall my ability to view their evidence. A preliminary hearing will show the court that there is no evidence against Lillian, I mean Mrs. Yarmouth.” I paused for breath. “And I am asking for a trial date in ninety days.”
    “Ninety days?” Karl yelled. “This is a murder case. Ms. Katz knows it takes at least a year to bring a murder case to trial, sometimes two, and I have other older serious cases.”
    “That’s your problem, Mr. Morris. It’s very refreshing to hear a lawyer ask for a quick trial date. All I’ve heard since I began my judgeship is ‘continuance, continuance.’”
    “Ms. Katz, I think a preliminary hearing just might be a good idea. Two weeks from today, one p.m. Next case, please.”
    I led Lillian out of the courtroom. I really felt like skipping out of the courtroom, but I contained myself. It wasn’t so bad having a judge who didn’t know shit about criminal court. He was making it up as he went, and I was helping. Now we were ready to talk to the press. The cameras were clicking as we left the courtroom.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
     
    The weekend loomed ahead. I was behind in all my work, and had planned to spend most of it in the office until Carlos reminded me that I had agreed to spend it with his parents on Marco Island at their beach condo.
    “Can we compromise?