Someday the Rabbi Will Leave Read Online Free Page B

then, one of them would come over to ask me a question or to give me some crazy advice. It began to get on my nerves. So after a while I went across the street for a cup of coffee. A couple of minutes later, the assistant D.A., Charlie Venture, comes in. You know him?”
    â€œSure. He’s one I’m careful not to turn my back on.”
    â€œAw, cummon, he’s a nice guy. Anyway, he joins me and we get to talking. He goes on and on about his case load and how the D.A. is on his back to get it down. And then he gives me that kind of funny one-sided smile of his—”
    â€œThat’s when you’ve really got to watch out. I always reach back and clutch my wallet.”
    Scofield parted his lips and displayed his teeth to show he appreciated the joke. “Anyway, he says how would I like for my client to cop a plea. So we’re up before Judge Prentiss, and you know how he is about blacks and Puerto Ricans, and I know he’s got an open-and-shut case—”
    â€œHe didn’t have a case,” said Mulcahey flatly.
    â€œOh yes, J.J. He had a witness, a nice middle-aged guy who—”
    â€œWho crapped out or didn’t show.”
    â€œNo, he showed all right. I saw him there in the corridor.”
    â€œSo he crapped out. He told Venturo that he couldn’t be certain it was Gonzales.”
    â€œWhy would he do that?”
    â€œBecause his wife probably got to him. ‘Why do you want to get involved with a bunch of crazy Puerto Ricans?’ That kind of thing. Happens all the time. So Venturo, knowing he doesn’t have a case, and seeing you go out for a cup of coffee, follows you and propositions you. Let me ask you, if he had an open-and-shut case and was sure of a conviction with a sentence of three to five years, why should he offer to settle for a lousy six months?”
    â€œWell, he was busy—”
    â€œSo what? They’re always busy, and the D.A. is always goosing them to reduce their case load. What did he stand to gain? The case would have been finished before the noon recess.”
    â€œYou think he played me for a patsy?”
    â€œI’ll say.”
    â€œAnd I should have gone ahead with it?”
    â€œYou bet. Especially for your own sake.”
    â€œHow do you mean?”
    Mulcahey looked at the crestfallen young man sitting across the desk. What was wrong with him? What was lacking? A good-looking guy like that. He felt sorry for him and tried to explain. “Look, these Puerto Ricans have big families. Everyone has a bunch of brothers and sisters and more cousins and aunts and uncles than you can count. You would have had a sizable gallery in the courtroom if you’d pleaded. If they see a lawyer fighting for his client, getting up and making objections, bearing down on cross-examination, making an impassioned summation to the jury, they’re going to think he’s pretty good even if he loses the case. What happens if your client does get three to five? You don’t have to serve it. But his family, they think a trial’s a game—you win some, you lose some. What counts with them is whether you put up a good fight or not. And if they like you, there’s business to be gained. Civil business as well as criminal. A lease, a contract, a title search—they’ll come to you because they saw you fighting for your client and you seemed to care. But if you cop a plea, sooner or later the idea is going to occur to them that, maybe, if you’d gone to trial, you might have won.”
    â€œSo you think I blew it?”
    â€œYou sure did,” said Mulcahey. He was on the point of offering the usual words of solace and consolation, but catching sight of their reflections in the dusty office window, he could not help comparing his own appearance—his squat and shapeless body, his puffy face and bulbous nose—with that of the nice-looking young man on the other side of the desk. Scofield