SMOKED OUT
The courtroom was full of spectators, cheering and jeering at the show. Directly behind the public defender, Angie Salinas, the audience was clothed in faded leather jackets, scuffed and ripped blue jeans, chains, and tattoos, as members of the Devil Dogs Motorcycle Club sat in support of Angie’s client, Rich Parker. Angie supposed they were grinning and horsing around since Judge Murphy had admonished them to be quiet more than once already.
The prospect of jail time wasn’t too big a deal to these people. She’d represented some of them before against a variety of charges—everything from drug possession to assault. The weird thing was that she didn’t feel at all intimidated by them; but, the scowling faces on the other side of the courtroom were a different matter. Supportive grins on grizzled faces lined one half of the courtroom, but the other half looked like a Lands’ End catalogue. Pastel colors couldn’t hide the hateful looks on those people’s faces, as they glared at Angie and Rich, who’d traded in his motorcycle club jacket for a loose tie and a wrinkled button-up shirt.
Now, as everyone waited for the jury’s decision, Angie could barely contain herself. This was a high-profile drug case with the potential to really garner her some attention. Rich had been arrested as part of a raid on the garage where he worked; but, there was a snafu with the warrant—as in there wasn’t one. Reading between the lines of the situation, Angie guessed the cops thought the Devil Dogs Motorcycle Club were moving their product and went in early to grab them, but they ended up just getting Rich. So, they stuck him with a possession with intent to distribute charge.
The community saw the case as a line in the sand that would either corral the MC or give them free rein. Angie thought a lot of the business leaders were just as crooked, if not more so, than the MC—at least the bikers didn’t hide who they were.
The foreman stood to speak, and Angie sucked in a breath.
“We find the defendant not guilty on all charges.”
Grumbling erupted from the Lands’ End crowd. The foreman looked sheepish and turned to Judge Murphy, who was busy banging his gavel on the wooden sound block.
“Order in the court!” Judge Murphy yelled. The crowd quieted. “Mr. Parker, it is the decision of this court that you are free to go, but…” He held up a finger to silence any interruptions. “Let me warn you, young man. I don’t want to see you in here again. You are headed down a road that will have a nasty end—and a short one. Next time, it won’t be so easy to get the same verdict.”
He banged the gavel down one final time, and the courtroom burst into frenetic energy. One half of the courtroom booed and grumbled in righteous indignation, and the other half cheered. Most of them got up immediately and headed for the door, as did the judge, already shrugging out of his robe.
Angie breathed a sigh of relief and felt herself relax. She quickly hid her emotions and smoothed down her suit skirt as her client, Rich Parker, turned to her with a rough grin and offered her his calloused hand.
“Never had a doubt,” Rich said, his eyes twinkling.
“I did,” she said, trying to return his smile. “This was a tough one. Judge Murphy had it in for you from day one.”
He studied her, letting go of her hand. “I had faith in you.”
She smiled and held back a self-effacing response.
He turned away. “Back to it, I guess.”
She watched him join the first row of the spectators. A woman who shared his delicate features and blonde hair grabbed him in a hug. Angie assumed that she was his mother. A teenage boy, nearly as handsome as Rich—but lacking his confidence—grinned beside them. He offered Rich a hand, but Rich grabbed him in a hug. Angie remembered Rich had a younger brother and assumed that was him. Rich kept a hand on his
The courtroom was full of spectators, cheering and jeering at the show. Directly behind the public defender, Angie Salinas, the audience was clothed in faded leather jackets, scuffed and ripped blue jeans, chains, and tattoos, as members of the Devil Dogs Motorcycle Club sat in support of Angie’s client, Rich Parker. Angie supposed they were grinning and horsing around since Judge Murphy had admonished them to be quiet more than once already.
The prospect of jail time wasn’t too big a deal to these people. She’d represented some of them before against a variety of charges—everything from drug possession to assault. The weird thing was that she didn’t feel at all intimidated by them; but, the scowling faces on the other side of the courtroom were a different matter. Supportive grins on grizzled faces lined one half of the courtroom, but the other half looked like a Lands’ End catalogue. Pastel colors couldn’t hide the hateful looks on those people’s faces, as they glared at Angie and Rich, who’d traded in his motorcycle club jacket for a loose tie and a wrinkled button-up shirt.
Now, as everyone waited for the jury’s decision, Angie could barely contain herself. This was a high-profile drug case with the potential to really garner her some attention. Rich had been arrested as part of a raid on the garage where he worked; but, there was a snafu with the warrant—as in there wasn’t one. Reading between the lines of the situation, Angie guessed the cops thought the Devil Dogs Motorcycle Club were moving their product and went in early to grab them, but they ended up just getting Rich. So, they stuck him with a possession with intent to distribute charge.
The community saw the case as a line in the sand that would either corral the MC or give them free rein. Angie thought a lot of the business leaders were just as crooked, if not more so, than the MC—at least the bikers didn’t hide who they were.
The foreman stood to speak, and Angie sucked in a breath.
“We find the defendant not guilty on all charges.”
Grumbling erupted from the Lands’ End crowd. The foreman looked sheepish and turned to Judge Murphy, who was busy banging his gavel on the wooden sound block.
“Order in the court!” Judge Murphy yelled. The crowd quieted. “Mr. Parker, it is the decision of this court that you are free to go, but…” He held up a finger to silence any interruptions. “Let me warn you, young man. I don’t want to see you in here again. You are headed down a road that will have a nasty end—and a short one. Next time, it won’t be so easy to get the same verdict.”
He banged the gavel down one final time, and the courtroom burst into frenetic energy. One half of the courtroom booed and grumbled in righteous indignation, and the other half cheered. Most of them got up immediately and headed for the door, as did the judge, already shrugging out of his robe.
Angie breathed a sigh of relief and felt herself relax. She quickly hid her emotions and smoothed down her suit skirt as her client, Rich Parker, turned to her with a rough grin and offered her his calloused hand.
“Never had a doubt,” Rich said, his eyes twinkling.
“I did,” she said, trying to return his smile. “This was a tough one. Judge Murphy had it in for you from day one.”
He studied her, letting go of her hand. “I had faith in you.”
She smiled and held back a self-effacing response.
He turned away. “Back to it, I guess.”
She watched him join the first row of the spectators. A woman who shared his delicate features and blonde hair grabbed him in a hug. Angie assumed that she was his mother. A teenage boy, nearly as handsome as Rich—but lacking his confidence—grinned beside them. He offered Rich a hand, but Rich grabbed him in a hug. Angie remembered Rich had a younger brother and assumed that was him. Rich kept a hand on his
Similar Books
