The Lincoln Lawyer

Campo is a liar,” he said.
    “Yes.”
    “She had this done to her or maybe even did it herself.”
    “I don’t know who did it.”
    “But not you.”
    “No, it wasn’t me. I wouldn’t do that to a woman. I wouldn’t hurt a woman.”
    Roulet pointed to the photo Minton had continued to hold up.
    “No woman deserves that,” he said.
    I leaned forward and waited. Roulet had just said the line I had told him to somehow find a way of putting into one of his answers during testimony.
No woman deserves that
. It was now up to Minton to take the bait. He was smart. He had to understand that Roulet had just opened a door.
    “What do you mean by
deserves?
Do you think crimes of violence come down to a matter of whether a victim gets what they deserve?”
    “No. I didn’t mean it that way. I meant that no matter what she does for a living, she shouldn’t have been beaten like that. Nobody deserves to have that happen to them.”
    Minton brought down the arm that held the photo. He looked at it himself for a moment and then looked back up at Roulet.
    “Mr. Roulet, I have nothing more to ask you.”

THIRTY-SEVEN
    I still felt that I was winning the razor fight. I had done everything possible to maneuver Minton into a position in which he had only one choice. It was now time to see if doing everything possible had been enough. After the young prosecutor sat down, I chose not to ask my client another question. He had held up well under Minton’s attack and I felt the wind was in our sails. I stood up and looked back at the clock on the upper rear wall of the courtroom. It was only three-thirty. I then looked back at the judge.
    “Your Honor, the defense rests.”
    She nodded and looked over my head at the clock. She told the jury to take the mid-afternoon break. Once the jurors were out of the courtroom, she looked at the prosecution table where Minton had his head down and was writing.
    “Mr. Minton?”
    The prosecutor looked up.
    “We’re still in session. Pay attention. Does the state have rebuttal?”
    Minton stood.
    “Your Honor, I would ask that we adjourn for the day so that the state has time to consider rebuttal witnesses.”
    “Mr. Minton, we still have at least ninety minutes to go today. I told you I wanted to be productive today. Where are your witnesses?”
    “Frankly, Your Honor, I was not anticipating the defense resting after only three witnesses and I -”
    “He gave fair warning of that in his opening statement.”
    “Yes, but still the case has moved faster than anticipated. We’re a half day ahead. I would beg the court’s indulgence. I would be hard-pressed to get the rebuttal witness I am considering even into court before six o’clock tonight.”
    I turned and looked at Roulet, who had returned to the seat next to mine. I nodded to him and winked with my left eye so the judge would not see the gesture. It looked like Minton had swallowed the bait. Now I just had to make sure the judge didn’t make him spit it out. I stood up.
    “Your Honor, the defense has no objection to the delay. Maybe we can use the time to prepare closing arguments and instructions to the jury.”
    The judge first looked at me with a puzzled frown. It was a rarity that the defense would not object to prosecutorial foot dragging. But then the seed I had planted began to bloom.
    “You may have an idea there, Mr. Haller. If we adjourn early today I will expect that we will go to closing statements directly after rebuttal. No further delays except to consider jury instructions. Is that understood, Mr. Minton?”
    “Yes, Your Honor, I will be ready.”
    “Mr. Haller?”
    “It was my idea, Judge. I’ll be ready.”
    “Very well, then. We have a plan. As soon as the jurors are back I will dismiss them for the day. They’ll beat the traffic and tomorrow things will run so smoothly and quickly that I have no doubt they will be deliberating by the afternoon session.”
    She looked at Minton and then me, as if daring one of us to disagree with her. When we didn’t, she got up and left the bench, probably in pursuit of a cigarette.
    Twenty minutes later the jury was heading home and I was gathering my things at the defense table. Minton stepped over and said, “Can I talk to you?”
    I looked at Roulet and told him to head out with his mother and Dobbs and that I would call him if I needed him for anything.
    “But I want to talk to you, too,” he said.
    “About what?”
    “About everything. How do you