The next day, while at the courthouse in Upper Marlboro to file my motions, I decided to drop off a copy of the motion in Tina’s case at the State’s Attorney's Office.
I spotted Ellen Martinez in the hallway, caught up with her, and pressed the copy into her hand.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m contesting Tina Jackson’s pre-trial detention. Thanks for saving me the stamp.”
“I’m glad to see you. Do you have a minute?”
“Um, sure.” Why did she seem so glad to see me? It was probably too much to hope that they’d found another suspect and were dropping the charges.
Martinez, who was her usual cool, immaculately turned out self, in a gray sheath and matching jacket, escorted me to a small conference room. She asked me to wait for five minutes. I took a seat at the long conference table. She returned an
