Dog Tags by David Rosenfelt Page B

owner. Or an owner might not want a dog anymore, and he brings it to our shelter.”
    “Is that it?”
    “No. If a dog is a danger to the community, say if he has attacked or bitten someone, then we keep him confined. Often we
     have to put those dogs to sleep.”
    “That means kill them?”
    “Yes.”
    “Which of those reasons speaks to why Milo is there?”
    He thinks for a moment. “I’m not sure. His owner is, as I understand it, unavailable to take care of him. As far as whether
     he’s dangerous, I suppose the police would know better about that.”
    I introduce as evidence a letter from Billy Zimmerman giving me ownership of Milo. I had privately assured Billy that it was
     a temporary, though necessary, move.
    “So if I am the owner of Milo, and I want to take him home and care for him, that would remove one of the reasons for his
     confinement?”
    Basilio shrugs. “I suppose it would.”
    I turn the witness over to Eli, but he doesn’t have any questions. I suspect that Eli will be reluctant to ask many questions
     throughout the hearing. Lawyers classically will not ask questions they don’t know the answer to, and since Eli didn’t even
     know about the guard, he’ll be extra careful.
    We’re off to a good start.

D ETECTIVE C ARL O AKES LOOKS LIKE HE WOULD RATHER BE ANYWHERE ELSE BUT ON THE STAND. His body language and facial expressions seem to indicate that taking his time up on a matter as trivial as this is beneath
     his dignity. As his adversary, that gives me an advantage, because nothing is beneath my dignity.
    “Detective Oakes, you personally gave the order for Milo to be incarcerated in the Passaic County Animal Shelter?”
    “It wasn’t an order. It was a request.”
    “Did he bite anyone?” I ask.
    “Not that I know of,” he says.
    “Have you ever made a request like this before?”
    “When we arrest someone who has an animal, and there is no one to care for it, it is turned over to the shelter.”
    “You personally do that?” I ask.
    “Not usually.”
    “Ever?”
    “I don’t recall,” he says, obviously annoyed.
    “Why did you personally make the request in this case?”
    “I told you. There was no one to care for the dog.”
    That doesn’t come close to answering my question, but I let it go.
    “So if I told you I was Milo’s new owner, and that I would care for him, that would alleviate your concern and you would tell
     the shelter you no longer wanted him held there?”
    “I didn’t say that. The dog committed a theft.”
    I smile. “Milo is a crook?”
    “He committed a theft.”
    “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” I introduce as evidence the letter I got from Eli, confirming that Milo was being held
     because of the robbery.
    After I read it out loud, I ask Oakes if he agrees with it.
    “I do,” he says.
    “So now the police and prosecutor are on record as saying that Milo is in jail because he committed a theft. Has he ever been
     arrested or charged before?”
    Oakes can’t conceal his disgust with my questions. “Come on…,” he says.
    “Is that a no? Has he ever been arrested or charged before?”
    “Not that I know of.”
    “Not a member of organized crime? Not part of a canine Cosa Nostra?”
    Oakes is not about to be humiliated, so he turns to Judge Catchings for help. “Judge…”
    I turn to Judge Catchings as well. “Your Honor, we’ve established that this is Milo’s first arrest. Bail for a first-time
     offender is certainly warranted. And he can be released on my recognizance; I will assume full responsibility for his future
     actions.”
    “I’ll reserve judgment on that,” he says. “Continue.” Then he adds, sternly, “In a serious manner.”
    Before I can ask another question, Oakes says, “The dog is a danger to the community. He could keep stealing things; that’s
     how he’s been trained.”
    “Where was he trained?”
    “At the police academy.”
    “He learned to be a thief at the police academy?” I