Joe Dillard - 03 - Injustice for All by Scott Pratt Page B

remember a couple of years back?” he says, his head still down. “I think you’d just started at the DA’s office. Judge Glass had charged Sheriff Bates with contempt over something stupid, and your office refused to prosecute. Didn’t you handle that in court?”
    I remember it vividly. Judge Ivan Glass, the cranky, seventysomething judge, was presiding over an afternoon hearing two years ago when a question arose about a policy at the sheriff’s department. Judge Glass told a bailiff to telephone Sheriff Leon Bates and order him to come to court to testify and clear up the matter. Sheriff Bates politely told the bailiff he was busy. Judge Glass told the bailiff to call back and tell the sheriff if he didn’t come to court immediately he’d be charged with contempt. The sheriff told the bailiff to tell the judge to kiss his biscuits, and the judge filed the contempt charge. When the day came for the hearing, I went into court, and on behalf of the district attorney’s office, told Judge Glass he had no authority to order the sheriff into court, that the charge had no basis in law or fact, and that the district attorney’s office refused to prosecute the case. The courtroom was packed with Bates’s political supporters, and Judge Glass was forced to back down and drop the charge against the sheriff.
    “Yeah, I handled it,” I say.
    “I hate to ask you, but what are the chances of your doing the same thing for me? I have to go in front of the son of a bitch on Monday.”
    “Who? Judge Green?”
    “Plea deadline on the contempt charge. All you’d have to do is go in there and say the DA’s office refuses to prosecute. It’s a bullshit charge and everybody knows it.”
    “I’ve already talked to Mooney about it. I begged him. He doesn’t want to get involved.”
    “Why?” Ray says. “What’s the difference between me and Bates? What’s the difference between Glass and Green?”
    “Think about it.”
    Ray flips the ashes off his cigarette and puts the butt in his pocket. He pauses for a long moment.
    “Oh, I’ve thought about it. Believe me.”
    “Bates is probably the most popular sheriff we’ve ever had in this county,” I say. “Mooney helped Bates out, hoping it would benefit him politically somewhere down the road. That’s all it was.”
    “And Green has already announced he’s not going to run for another term, assuming someone doesn’t kill him before this term expires. So there’s no upside for Mooney if he gets involved.”
    “Exactly. I’m sorry, Ray.”
    “Forget it.”
    “Take it to trial. Surely a jury will see what’s happening and do the right thing.”
    “I appreciate the advice,” he says, “but if you can’t help, I’ve got something a little more dramatic in mind.”
    “Like what?”
    “You’ll see on Monday,” he says, and he turns and walks back into the house.

8
    “Aren’t you coming to see the show?”
    I look up from an attempted murder file into the face of Tanner Jarrett. He’s wearing his perpetual smile.
    “What show is that?”
    “Ray Miller’s in court. Judge Green sent word that he’s going to call Miller up first thing.”
    “Yeah, I was planning on coming down.” I’ve been thinking about what Ray said, about his doing something dramatic, all weekend.
    “I hate this,” Tanner says. “It’s a lousy case, and Miller seems like a good guy. Being the new kid on the block sucks sometimes.”
    “Why don’t you just walk in there and tell Green there’s no case and refuse to prosecute? Show everybody you’ve got some balls, son.”
    “Mooney and my dad would both cut them off as soon as I walked out of the courtroom,” Tanner says. “I’ll leave that kind of stuff to you old guys.”
    I stand and smile at Tanner. “Is Mooney coming?”
    “He took a week of vacation.”
    “You’re kidding. He went to a conference last week. He didn’t say anything to me about going on vacation this week.”
    “He’s the boss. I guess he can