Bosch saw that a number of reporters had slipped into the courtroom and were in the front row. He also saw that Cisco and Dina were in the last row, next to his daughter. Dina was staring toward the front of the courtroom, a growing look of horror on her face. Bosch followed the line of her vision and saw that Preston Borders was being led into the courtroom through the metal door that accessed the courthouse jail.
Courtroom deputies were on either side of and behind him. He walked slowly toward the defense table. He was in leg and wrist shackles, with a heavy chain running up between his legs and connecting the bindings. He was wearing orange jail scrubs—the color given to jailhouse VIPs.
Bosch had not seen Borders in person in nearly thirty years. Back then he had been a young man with a tan and 1980s actor hair—big, full, and wavy. Now he had a curved back and his hair was gray and thin, matching papery skin that received sunlight only one hour a week.
But he still had the flinty deadeye stare of a psychopath. As he entered, he glanced out into the courtroom gallery and smiled at the groupies who longed to be held by those eyes. They were standing in a middle row, bouncing on their heels and trying to hold themselves back from squealing.
Then his eyes went beyond them, and he found Bosch standing with Haller at the back. They were dark, sunken eyes, glowing like trash-can fires in an alley at night.
Glowing with hate.
37
Once Borders was seated at the defense table between Lance and Katherine Cronyn, the court clerk alerted Judge Houghton and he emerged from his chambers and retook his seat on the bench. He scanned the courtroom, eyeing those at the front tables as well as those in the gallery. His eyes seemed to hold on Haller as a recognizable face. He then got down to work.
“Next on the docket, California versus Borders, a habeas matter and motion to vacate set for evidentiary hearing,” Houghton said. “Before proceeding I want to make clear that the Court expects the rules of decorum to be followed at all times. Any outburst from the gallery will result in the quick removal of the offending party.”
As he spoke, Houghton was looking directly at the group of young women who had come to get a look at Borders. He then continued with the business at hand.
“We also have a motion to be heard that was filed on Friday by Mr. Haller, who I see in the back of the courtroom. Why don’t you come up, Mr. Haller. Your client can take a seat in the gallery.”
While Bosch slid into the row next to Cisco, his lawyer started up the center aisle toward the well of the courtroom. Before he even got to the gate, Kennedy was on his feet, objecting to Haller’s motion on technical terms. He argued that the motion was filed too late in the game and was without merit. Lance Cronyn stood and offered support to Kennedy’s argument, adding his own description of Haller’s motion.
“Your Honor, this is just a stunt by Mr. Haller to curry favor with the media,” Cronyn said. “As Mr. Kennedy aptly put it, this motion has no merit. Mr. Haller is simply looking for some free advertising at the expense of my client, who has suffered and waited for this day for thirty years.”
Haller had pushed through the gate and moved to a lectern located between the two tables at the head of the room.
“Mr. Haller, I’m assuming you have a response to that,” Houghton said.
“Indeed, I do, Your Honor,” Haller said. “For the record, I am Michael Haller, representing Detective Hieronymus Bosch in this matter. May it please the Court, my client has become aware of the petition for habeas corpus filed by Mr. Cronyn and supported by the District Attorney’s Office alleging that Mr. Bosch falsified material evidence used to convict Mr. Borders some twenty-nine years ago. Inexplicably, he was not subpoenaed for this hearing or otherwise invited to attend and testify in answer to these allegations. And I note here for the record that these unfounded allegations made their way into the Los Angeles Times and were reported as fact, and therefore have irrevocably damaged his professional and personal reputation, as well as his livelihood.”
“Mr. Haller, we don’t have all day,” Houghton said. “Make your argument.”
“Of course, Your Honor. My client fervently denies the allegations, which impugn his integrity, good name, and reputation. He has testimony and evidence he wants to present that is relevant and material to the resolution of these issues. In short, this whole thing is a scam, Your Honor, and we can prove it, if given the opportunity. Hence, I have filed on my client’s behalf a motion for leave to intervene, as well as a complaint answering the allegations against him. I have served notice to all parties, and it was most likely that service that resulted in the newspaper article mentioned earlier that trashed Mr. Bosch’s good reputation and standing in the law enforcement community.”
“Your Honor!” Kennedy cried. “The state objects to the malicious allegation made by Mr. Haller. The source of the newspaper story was certainly not my office or investigative team, as we attempted diligently to handle this in a manner least impactful to Mr. Bosch. The story came from somewhere else, and the state asks for sanctions against Mr. Haller.”
“Your Honor,” Haller said calmly. “I am willing to show Clerk of the Court records, and my client is willing to show his phone records, which together make it clear that within two hours of my filing motions Friday, the reporter for the Los Angeles Times was calling Mr. Bosch and asking for comment. My motions were filed under seal and therefore copied only to the parties opposing Mr. Bosch right here, right now. You can draw your own conclusions, Judge. I have drawn mine.”
Houghton swiveled in his high-backed leather chair for a moment before responding.
“I think we’ve batted that back and forth enough,” he said. “There won’t be any sanctions. Let’s move this along. Mr. Haller, both Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Cronyn object to your client’s standing in this matter. How do you respond to that?”
Haller banged a fist down on the lectern for emphasis before wading into the fray again.
“How do I respond?” he asked. “I’m incredulous, Your Honor. Sunday’s newspaper dragged my client through the mud. It clearly implied that he planted evidence that sent a man away to death row. And here we are, and he was not even invited to the party? Given that the newspaper account and the allegations contained in the state’s petition implicate my client’s property rights in reputation and good name, I believe he has standing to intervene and defend those rights. If that is not the correct vehicle, then I would suggest the alternative, that he be viewed as a friend of the court and be permitted to testify and adduce evidence relevant to the issues the Court must weigh.”
Houghton solicited responses from Kennedy and Cronyn, but it became clear to Bosch that the judge found it difficult not to give him his day in court after his name and reputation were called into question by the Times and by the details of the original petitions, which the D.A.’s Office did not seek to seal from public view. Kennedy became frustrated when he made the same read on the judge’s words and demeanor as Bosch had.
“Your Honor, the state can’t be held responsible for an article in the newspaper,” he said. “I—we—were not the source of the story. If we made a mistake in not asking for our motion to be sealed, then okay, that is on us, but it’s surely not enough of an infraction to warrant this intervention by Bosch. There is a man sitting in this courtroom who has been on death row for more than ten thousand days—yes, I did the math—and it is our duty as officers of the court to make that injustice our priority today.”
“That is, if it’s an injustice,” Haller said quickly. “The evidence we seek to present tells a different story, Your Honor. It’s the story of a scam carried out by cunning minds and perpetrated on the citizenry as well as on Mr. Kennedy and his office.”
“I’m going to take ten minutes to refer to the code and then we’ll reconvene,” Houghton said. “Nobody go far. Ten minutes.”
The judge was up and off the bench quickly and he disappeared into the hallway behind the clerk’s corral that led to his chambe
rs. Bosch liked that about Houghton. He had been in trials with the judge in the past and knew he was very assured as a courtroom referee. But he wasn’t conceited enough to assume he knew every nuance of the law as written. He was willing to call a quick time-out to check the code books so that when he made a ruling, it had the solid backing of the law.
Haller turned around and looked at Bosch. He pointed toward the rear door of the courtroom and Bosch understood that he was still wondering about Spencer. It was a sign that Haller was confident that the judge’s ruling was going to go his way.
Bosch got up and walked out of the courtroom to check on Spencer. The hallway was practically deserted now and there was no sign of him.
Bosch went back into the courtroom. The sound of the door drew Haller’s attention and Bosch shook his head.
The judge returned to the bench a minute early and immediately shot down a request from Kennedy to provide further argument. He then proceeded with his ruling.
“Although the statute and rules governing habeas procedure are within the penal code, it’s axiomatic that such a petition is in the nature of a civil action. Hence, an intervenor under civil rules would seem to be appropriate. Detective Bosch’s property right in his good name and reputation is an interest that he is entitled and permitted to protect and that is, to the Court’s observation and research, not being protected by the existing parties to this action. So I grant the motion for leave to intervene. Mr. Haller, you can call your first witness.”
Kennedy, who had inexplicably remained standing after his last objection was denied, quickly objected again.
“Your Honor, this is unfair,” he said. “We are not prepared for witnesses. The state requests that we carry this over thirty days in order to seek depositions and prepare for a hearing.”
Cronyn stood as well. Bosch expected him to protest any postponement but instead he seconded the request. Bosch thought he saw Kennedy wince. It was probably at that moment that the prosecutor knew he had somehow been played by Cronyn or Borders or both.
“What happened to the ten thousand days Mr. Kennedy mentioned earlier?” Houghton said. “The travesty of justice? Now you want to send the man whom your petition exonerates back to death row for another thirty days? We all know that with court calendars being what they are, there is no thirty-day delay. Putting this off for thirty days might as well be ninety, because my calendar is that far out. I’m not seeing a reason to delay these proceedings, gentlemen.”
Houghton swiveled in his chair again and looked down from the bench at Borders.
“Mr. Borders, are you willing to go back up to San Quentin for another three months while the attorneys get into this?”
There was a long moment before Borders responded and Bosch savored every second of it. There was no good answer for Borders. To accept the delay would be to reveal, as his attorney just had, that there was something wrong here. To say he did not accept his own attorney’s wish for a delay would be to invite Haller to trot his witnesses to the stand and risk the whole scam being exposed.
“I just want to get it right,” Borders finally said. “I’ve been up there a long time. I don’t suppose a little more time matters if it means they get it right.”
“That’s exactly what the Court is trying to do here,” Houghton said. “Get it right.”
Bosch caught movement in his peripheral vision and turned to see the courtroom door opening. A man in a suit who he presumed was a lawyer entered and he was followed by Terry Spencer.
They stepped in and surveyed the courtroom, and the soft bang of the door closing behind them drew the rest of the eyes in the room to them. Bosch turned to check that Haller saw that their witness had arrived. Then he looked at the faces at the defense table. Borders showed minimal interest in the new arrivals because he didn’t know Spencer by sight. But the reactions of the Cronyn legal team were telling. Lance Cronyn pursed his lips and blinked. He looked like a chess player who knew three moves out that he had lost. Katherine Cronyn’s reaction went beyond surprise. She looked like she was seeing a ghost. Her jaw went slack and her eyes turned from the man standing at the back of the courtroom to her husband, sitting on the other side of their client. Bosch read fear in them.
Bosch’s eyes then hunted through the rows of benches in the gallery for Lucia Soto. He found her in the front row by the courtroom deputy’s desk. It was clear that she recognized Spencer, but she had a puzzled look on her face. She genuinely wasn’t sure why the man from property control was in the courtroom.
“May I make a suggestion to the Court?”
The words came from Haller and they drew all attention away from Spencer.
“Go ahead, Mr. Haller,” Houghton said.
“What if all the lawyers and principals continue the hearing in camera,” Haller said. “I will give Mr. Kennedy and Mr. Cronyn a verbal proffer for each witness I intend to call and for each document and video I plan to introduce. They will then be better informed on whether to seek a delay or not. The reason I ask to move to chambers is that I would want to be shielded from the media should I not be one hundred percent accurate in my proffers.”
“How long will this take, Mr. Haller?” the judge asked.
“I’ll be quick. I think I can do it in fifteen minutes or less.”
“I like your idea, Mr. Haller, but we have a problem. I’m not sure I have room in chambers for all attorneys and their clients as well as Mr. Kennedy and his investigators. Additionally, we have a security issue with Mr. Borders, and I don’t think our courthouse deputies want him moved around the building. So, what I am going to do is use the courtroom for a closed in camera conference and ask that witnesses, members of the media, and all other observers leave for fifteen minutes so we can hear your proffers, Mr. Haller.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“The pool camera can stay but it needs to be turned off. Deputy Garza, please call for an additional deputy who can stand outside the door in the hallway until we are ready to invite the public back in.”
There was a commotion as several people stood at once to leave the courtroom. Bosch sat still at first, just admiring the genius of Haller’s move. Because he was giving the judge a summary of what would be shown and testified to, there would be no oaths taken and therefore no consequences for any exaggerations or untruths that might be exposed later.
Haller was about to get a free swing at the case against Bosch, and there was nothing Kennedy and the Cronyns could do about it.
38
Haller signaled Bosch to the front. He went through the gate and took a seat against the railing. He looked around and saw he was only about six feet from where Borders sat shackled between Cronyn and Cronyn. Two deputies were in chairs directly behind him.
He looked to the rear of the courtroom and saw people still bunched at the door and moving out. His daughter was last in line and looking back at him. She gave him a nod of confidence and he returned it. After she moved through the doorway, he returned his attention to Borders. He made a low whistle sound and it caught Borders’s ear. The man in orange turned and looked directly at Bosch.
Bosch winked.
Borders looked away. Haller stepped over and blocked Bosch’s view of him.
“Don’t worry about him,” he said. “Stay focused on what’s important.”
He took the empty seat next to Bosch and leaned in to him to whisper.
“I’m going to try to get you on the record,” he said. “No proffer from me. You. So, remember, be forthright, act outraged.”
“I told you, not a problem,” Bosch said.
Haller turned to check the back of the room.
“Did you talk to Spencer or Daly before they left?”
“No. Is Daly the lawyer?”
“Yeah, Dan Daly. He’s usually a federal court guy. Must be slumming today. Or he previously knew Spencer. I’ll put Cisco on it.”
Haller took out his phone and started typing a text to his investigator, who had been
among those invited by the judge to leave the courtroom. Bosch stood up so he’d have an angle on the screen. Haller was telling Cisco to see if Daly would reveal what Spencer was willing to testify to. He told Cisco to text him back. Just as he sent the message off, Houghton called the courtroom back to order.
“Okay, we’re going to be on the record here, but this is a case management conference of the related parties present. Not part of the official hearing record. What is said here is not to go outside the courtroom. Mr. Haller, why don’t you walk us through what you plan to do with your witnesses and documents if your motion is granted. And let’s be brief.”
Haller stood up and went to the lectern, placing a legal pad down. Bosch could see that the top page was covered in notes, several of which were circled with arrows pointing to other circles. It was a schematic of the frame against Bosch. Beneath the pad he had a file containing the documents he would put before the judge.
“Thank you for this opportunity, Your Honor,” he began. “You won’t regret it. Because Mr. Cronyn and Mr. Kennedy are correct, there has been a miscarriage of justice here. Just not the one most people think has occurred.”
“Your Honor?” Kennedy said, holding his hands palms out and up in a what-is-going-on? gesture.
“Mr. Haller,” Houghton said. “If I may draw your eyes to the jury box to your left, you will see it is empty. I said be brief. I didn’t say make a statement to a nonexistent jury.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Haller said. “Thank you. Moving on, then. The District Attorney’s Conviction Integrity Unit took on this case and in a forensic review of the evidence found DNA on the clothing of Danielle Skyler that did not come from her convicted killer, Preston Borders. Instead, it came from a now-deceased serial rapist named Lucas John Olmer.”
“Mr. Haller,” Houghton interrupted again. “You are reciting the known facts of the matter before the Court. I granted you entrance to the case as an intervenor. An intervention requires something new, a change in direction. Do you have that or not?”