When Darkness Falls by James Grippando Page A

and facing an uphill battle for reelection. It didn’t matter that the fund-raising had to be done long before voters went to the polls, or that he had places to go, hands to shake, checks to cash. He was trying hard to be diplomatic with Falcon’s lawyer, but this was about his daughter’s safety, and he had little patience for anyone who refused to open his eyes and see things as any father would see them.
    The mayor said, “I know it’s unorthodox for the victim’s father to call the defense lawyer, but hear me out, please.”
    “It’s happened in other cases,” said Jack. “Worse cases.”
    “Then you understand how disappointed I must have been when the prosecutor called to tell me that you wouldn’t agree to revise the terms of release.”
    “This is nothing personal,” said Jack. “The law requires the prosecution to show some new facts to the judge, something that makes my client a greater flight risk or a greater danger to the community than originally thought.”
    “Your client continues to stalk my daughter. Isn’t that enough?”
    “If the prosecutor had evidence to support that claim, we’d be in court this afternoon.”
    Swyteck had hit the nail on the head. A defense lawyer had no way of knowing all the weaknesses in the state’s case, particularly at this early juncture, but the prosecutor had laid them out in painstaking detail for the mayor. Without anyone noticing, a homeless bum had to get inside an upscale Coral Gables bar, take a woman’s purse, and ditch it in the ladies’ room. The desk clerk at the copy center said it was a woman, not a man, who rented the computer that was used to send Alicia the e-mail. Falcon’s fingerprints were found nowhere, and the lone extraneous fingerprint on Alicia’s compact didn’t even match his.
    “You’re a very insightful attorney, Mr. Swyteck.”
    “In cases like this, it’s really just a matter of doing my job.”
    “And I imagine there is much discretion in that job description.”
    “I suppose.”
    “Then why not agree to a restraining order that prevents your client from coming within five hundred yards of my daughter?”
    There was silence. He could sense that Swyteck wanted to agree. Was it possible-a criminal defense lawyer with a conscience? No way. Any inroads into the lawyer’s moral sensitivities were due entirely to the mayor’s persuasive powers. Damn, I’m good.
    “I’m sorry, I can’t do it.”
    That took the air right out of the mayor’s inflated ego. “Why not?”
    “Because it’s not in my client’s interest.”
    “You want something in return? A little quid pro quo? Is that it?”
    “Mr. Mayor, I’m really not at all comfortable having this conversation with you.”
    “Seriously. If there is something you want, tell me.”
    Again, he could sense that Swyteck was struggling. The lawyer said, “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I can’t even imagine what must go through a parent’s mind when it comes to a child’s safety, even after she’s a grown adult. But we need to avoid these conversations. They will only feed the public perception that the case against my client is driven not by reasoned legal judgment but by raw emotion from the mayor’s office.”
    The mayor gnawed his lower lip. It was a good thing Swyteck wasn’t in the office with him. He might have clobbered him. “Thank you for that,” said the mayor. “I should have expected nothing less from a money launderer.”
    “Excuse me?” said Jack.
    “The ten-thousand-dollar bond your client posted. It’s no secret that you smuggled the cash out of the Bahamas.”
    “I didn’t smuggle anything,” said Jack. “And the reason there are no secrets surrounding the bond is precisely because I did everything above-board. My client has access to cash in the Bahamas. I set up a ten-thousand-dollar savings account in his name at his Bahamian bank. The money was sent by wire transfer, the necessary currency transaction reports were