The Lincoln Lawyer

back into the courtroom. The jury was seated and Meehan was leading a man in a gray jumpsuit through the lockup door. Dwayne Corliss was a thin man with stringy hair that wasn’t getting washed enough in the lockdown drug program at County-USC. He wore a blue plastic hospital ID band on his wrist. I recognized him. He was the man who had asked me for a business card when I interviewed Roulet in the holding cell my first day on the case.
    Corliss was led by Meehan to the witness box and the court clerk swore him in. Minton took over the show from there.
    “Mr. Corliss, were you arrested on March fifth of this year?”
    “Yes, the police arrested me for burglary and possession of drugs.”
    “Are you incarcerated now?”
    Corliss looked around.
    “Um, no, I don’t think so. I’m just in the courtroom.”
    I heard Kurlen’s coarse laugh behind me but nobody joined in.
    “No, I mean are you currently being held in jail? When you are not here in court.”
    “I’m in a lockdown drug treatment program in the jail ward at Los Angeles County-USC Medical Center.”
    “Are you addicted to drugs?”
    “Yes. I’m addicted to heroin but at the moment I am straight. I haven’t had any since I got arrested.”
    “More than sixty days.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Do you recognize the defendant in this case?”
    Corliss looked over at Roulet and nodded.
    “Yes, I do.”
    “Why is that?”
    “Because I met him in lockup after I got arrested.”
    “You are saying that after you were arrested you came into close proximity to the defendant, Louis Roulet?”
    “Yes, the next day.”
    “How did that happen?”
    “Well, we were both in Van Nuys jail but in different wards. Then, when we got bused over here to the courts, we were together, first in the bus and then in the tank and then when we were brought into the courtroom for first appearance. We were together all of that time.”
    “When you say ‘together,’ what do you mean?”
    “Well, we sort of stuck close because we were the only white guys in the group we were in.”
    “Now, did you talk at all while you were together for all of that time?”
    Corliss nodded his head and at the same time Roulet shook his. I touched my client’s arm to caution him to make no demonstrations.
    “Yes, we talked,” Corliss said.
    “About what?”
    “Mostly about cigarettes. We both needed them but they don’t let you smoke in the jail.”
    Corliss made a what-are-you-going-to-do gesture with both hands and a few of the jurors-probably smokers-smiled and nodded.
    “Did you reach a point where you asked Mr. Roulet what got him into jail?” Minton asked.
    “Yes, I did.”
    “What did he say?”
    I quickly stood up and objected but just as quickly was overruled.
    “What did he tell you, Mr. Corliss?” Minton prompted.
    “Well, first he asked me why I was there and I told him. So then I asked him why he was in and he said, ‘For giving a bitch exactly what she deserved.’”
    “Those were his words?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did he elaborate further on what he meant by that?”
    “No, not really. Not on that.”
    I leaned forward, waiting for Minton to ask the next obvious question. But he didn’t. He moved on.
    “Now, Mr. Corliss, have you been promised anything by me or the district attorney’s office in return for your testimony?”
    “Nope. I just thought it was the right thing to do.”
    “What is the status of your case?”
    “I still got the charges against me, but it looks like if I complete my program I’ll be able to get a break on them. The drugs, at least. I don’t know about the burglary yet.”
    “But I have made no promise of help in that regard, correct?”
    “No, sir, you haven’t.”
    “Has anyone else from the district attorney’s office made any promises?”
    “No, sir.”
    “I have no further questions.”
    I sat unmoving and just staring at Corliss. My pose was that of a man who was angry but didn’t know exactly what to do about it. Finally, the judge prompted me into action.
    “Mr. Haller, cross-examination?”
    “Yes, Your Honor.”
    I stood up, glancing back at the door as if hoping a miracle would walk through it. I then checked the big clock on the back door and saw it was five minutes after ten. I noticed as I turned back to the witness that I had not lost Kurlen. He was still in the back row and he still had the same smirk on his face. I realized that it might have been his natural look.
    I turned to the witness.
    “Mr.