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5377 Words
Naomi was vacuuming the floor while her parents sat at one of the dining room tables discussing Kobee’s situation. Her mother was crying as her father told his wife what had happened in the interrogation room. They were all stressed out and just as Naomi suspected the court-appointed lawyer was proving useless. All he had done was tell Kobee not to talk, and then he let the cops transfer her baby brother to Rikers without protest. She was so scared about what may happen to Kobee in that place.
Someone had come up to the door and was banging to get their attention. Naomi looked at the clock; it was midnight they had been closed for an hour.
Her father stood up and went to the door waving his arms. “We’re closed, go away.” Her father barked through the glass door. The man on the other side of the glass placed a business card against the glass of the door. Her father adjusted his glasses to read the card, and then he opened the door and let the man in.
Naomi turned off the vacuum as she watched Mr. Sanchez come in, his briefcase in his hand. He handed his card to her father and introduced himself. “I know it is late and I’m sorry to come so late. My name is Brandon Sanchez I work for Pitmen, Reynolds, & Kockrin. I’m looking for a waitress that works here.” Naomi came over and stared at him. She was very surprised to see him. He smiled when he saw her and shook her hand. “Good you are here, is this man your father or your boss?”
“These are my parents.” She gestured to them. “My father Makoto Lee and my mother, Tora Lee.”
Mr. Sanchez shook both their hands. “Nice to meet you both, I understand your son is in a little bit of trouble, and you’re not happy with the court-appointed attorney representing him. I want to offer my services.”
Her mother broke out in tears and started thanking him in Japanese; she was so worked up Naomi had to guide her away and sit her down at the table. “Sit please.” Her father said gesturing to the table his wife was sitting at. “Can I get you a drink, something to eat?” He offered. “Naomi, go get tea.” He ordered.
“No really please just sit down.” Brandon insisted as he took a seat and opened his briefcase. He removed a pad of paper and a pen. “I hope you have some time I know it’s late but I need to know some things before I can proceed.”
“Yes, anything.” Her father said sitting down beside his wife holding her hand. Naomi took a seat at the table she had to be a part of this.
“First of all, what exactly are the changes?”
“Felony rape and first-degree murder.” Her father said. “They say he followed a sixteen-year-old girl coming home late at night. They say he dragged her into an alley at knifepoint. That he raped her and then stabbed her seven times before cutting her throat.”
Naomi looked at Mr. Sanchez trying to judge his reaction, but he seemed attentive, but it was hard to judge what he was thinking. “Why do the police think… Kobee, his name is Kobe right?” Her father nodded. “Why do the police think he’s responsible?”
“They said some witnesses saw him coming out of the alley at the time of the murder. People from the neighbourhood who knew him.”
“Was your son home during the time of the murder?” Her father shook his head no. “Do you know where he was? Was he with anyone that could vouch for his whereabouts?”
“No. At least no one that is willing to come forward and admit it.”
“Where did he say he was?”
Her father looked at his wife and then cast his eyes down with shame. “He says he was at a friend’s apartment getting high.”
“Did the police follow up on his alibi?” Mr. Sanchez asked.
“Yes. They wouldn’t admit they even knew him.” Her father said. Why would they do that? Why if they were his friends did they lie to the police?
“Do you know their names, their address, or their phone numbers?”
“No.”
He then turned to Naomi. “Do you?”
“No, Kobee doesn’t tell us much.”
He nodded and began writing notes. “So, they have eyewitnesses, and your son has no alibi? Do they know he has gang affiliations?”
“Yes. “Her father said.
“Ok did they give you a case file number when they booked him? If so I will need that number.”
Her father spoke to his wife in Japanese telling her to get the paperwork from the office. She got up and did as he bid returning quickly with the paperwork. Mr. Sanchez placed the papers in his briefcase. “I’m going to hold on to these. Your son is a minor, but with a murder one charge hanging over his head there is a good chance the DA is going to try him as an adult which brings a harsher penalty than juvenile court. I’m going to have to talk to him in person. Is he still in the station holding cell?”
“They processed him quickly; they said he was going to Rikers.” Her father said, and her mother began to sob once more.
“Ok, so my first step is going to be getting him out of Rikers and moved to a remand center.” Her mother took his hand and repeatedly bowed thanking him over and over in Japanese until her husband pulled her back. “My next step is to sit down with Kobee and figure out the particulars of the case. I’ll know the next step after I’ve got his side of the story.” He said putting the pad of paper back into his briefcase and closing it. “I know it’s hard but sit tight, we’ll get this worked out.”
Both her parents began thanking him and then came the next logical question. “How much do you charge?” Her father asked. “Whatever it may be, we will pay.” He assured Mr. Sanchez.
“Don’t worry about it.” Mr. Sanchez said with a smile. “My firm is not taking this case on. I’m doing it pro-bono on my own time.”
Her parents looked confused like they didn’t understand him. Naomi explained the meaning of pro-bono and then they were both worshipping him again shaking his hand and praising him, her mother sobbing hysterically.
Mr. Sanchez pried them off him and said goodbye then left the restaurant. Naomi followed him out into the parking lot. “What changed your mind?” She asked as he reached his car.
“I’m in this business because I believe in justice. Railroading some scared kid isn’t justice. Sometimes one random act of kindness can change someone’s life. And right now, your brother needs someone that will fight for him. I can’t stand by and learn he was executed knowing I could have helped him.” He said tossing his briefcase into the car.
“If there is anything I can do to help just ask.”
“Good-night Miss. Lee.”
“Naomi.” She corrected him. “Thank you.”
He didn’t say another word. He climbed into his car and drove away. She thanked her lucky stars he was a good man, that her pleas for help did not fall on deaf ears. Finally, there was some hope for Kobee.
***
Brandon stood with his arms up while one guard pat him down and another checked out his briefcase. He had taken a long lunch and made a quick trip to Rikers Island to meet his client. Once they deemed him harmless, they returned his briefcase and escorted him to the first of many security locked gates.
He passed through three security checks before being escorted into a private room with a table and two chairs. Brandon placed his briefcase on the table and took out his notepad and a pen. The other door across the room opened, and a guard walked a young boy in an orange jumpsuit into the room his hands cuffed in front of him.
He looked so young and scared. His dark hair was cut short in the back and longer in the front, giving him a rather punkish sort of look. He was short and thin. He didn’t look like he could overpower another person. How could anyone with half a brain think this kid could drag a struggling body behind a dumpster and hold it down long enough to do what they thought he did? The kid couldn’t be more than five-foot-six at best and maybe one hundred and fifty pounds if he were an ounce. There was an absolute terror in his eyes as the guard walked him to the table and forced him to sit down.
The guard was about to handcuff Kobee to an iron ring mounted to the table to control unruly and dangerous criminals, but Brandon didn’t believe this boy to be either. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” He said waving his arm dismissively, a habit that came from a life of privilege. The guard gave him a dirty look but left the room. Brandon could hear the lock slip into place as soon as the door closed.
He then turned his attention to the frightened boy seated across the table. “My name is Brandon Sanchez.” He introduced himself. “I’m your new attorney.”
“What happened to the last guy?”
“You family felt he was doing an inadequate job. So, they retained me.”
“And you’re better?”
“Let’s hope so.” He said with a smile, but the boy didn’t even crack a grin. Brandon took his seat and looked the boy in the eye. “First things first, how are you holding up?”
“They got me in a cell with a white supremacist. He has a swastika tattooed to his head. He’s like three hundred pounds, and he keeps telling me he’s going to shank me in my sleep.” He said his hands were trembling. “I think he’d do it too, but the guards confiscated his toothbrush.” He then leaned forward. “They make me shower with nineteen other men, and they all keep looking at me and calling me names.”
“Ok hold in there I’m already working on getting you out of this place and into a minimum-security center. They only put white-collar criminals in places like that. It’s practically a resort.”
“When will I get out of here?”
“I have a meeting with the judge this afternoon. If all goes well, you’ll be transferred in the morning.” He said.
“And if it doesn’t go well?”
“It will. I know the judge.” His family had friends in high places. This particular judge had attended many functions along with his father. They weren’t close friends or anything, but they were civil acquaintances. He picked up his pen and put it to his notepad. “Now I have to ask you a few questions. I can’t stress enough how important it is for you to be one hundred percent honest with me no matter what the answer is. I will defend you to the best of my ability, but I don’t like surprises. I can’t defend you if you lie to me and I get blindsided by the prosecution. Anything you tell me stays between the two of us. I’m legally obligated to keep our conversations confidential. However, I am also obligated as a repetitive of the judicial system to refuse counsel if I know you are actively plotting to break the law and to report you if you pose an immediate physical threat to somebody. So as long as you’re not plotting to kill someone, we should be good.”
Kobee shook his head. “No, I would never.”
“First question. I don’t care what you told the judge or the cops or your family I want the truth, so I know what I’m up against. Did you kill this girl?”
“No.”
“Were you there when it happened?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“No.”
“Where were you at the time of the murder?” Kobee didn’t look like he wanted to admit where he had been. “The truth.” Brandon insisted.
“I was six blocks away in my friend’s apartment getting high,” Kobee admitted.
“How many people were there with you?”
“Three.”
“Will they testify to that?”
“No. They told the cops they didn’t even know me.”
“Why would they do that?”
“They figure I’m in trouble and they don’t want to be drawn into it. They’re dope dealers, and they don’t want the cops sniffing around and busting them on an unrelated charge.”
“Have you been seen in public together?”
“Why?”
“If people have seen you together it’s easy to prove they’re lying. It means with a little work we can probably prove your alibi. I’ll need their names.” He said waiting for Kobee to list his two-faced friends.
“Oki Akiyama, Reiji Fukui, and Shogo Kita.”
“What substance were you using?”
“Does it matter?” Kobee asked with uncertainty in his eyes.
“It could. Some substances have a nasty side effect of blacking out in which people do things they can’t remember. Other substances make people do things they otherwise wouldn’t. For example, Meth makes people violent and unpredictable. Heroin causes people to blackout. The prosecution may argue that you ingested a mind-altering substance and blacked out that you may not remember the assault. If they can establish that you have a drug habit, they could use it to poison the jury.”
“I was smoking pot. I only smoke pot, I don’t use anything else.” Kobee swore.
“How long were you there?”
“From five thirty to about midnight. Then I went straight home.”
“Did you drive or walk?”
“I walked.”
“Did your route take you past the crime scene?”
“Yes.”
“About what time do you figure you were passing the crime scene?”
“Maybe twelve-fifteen.”
“Did you see anything out of place, anything suspicious? Anybody you walked past that might have stood out as agitated?”
Kobee thought about his question. It took a few minutes before he shook his head no. “I can’t remember. I don’t think so. The streets were pretty deserted, and I was still high.”
Brandon sighed, so far, he wasn’t getting anything he could use. “Ok let’s talk about the victim. The prosecution has to prove you had a motive. Have you ever met the victim?”
“Yes. Her parents have a convenience store a few blocks down from the restaurant. I’ve asked her out a few times.”
“So, you used to date?”
“No, she always turned me down.” Brandon shook his head. That wasn’t good news they would argue he had grown tired of being turned down and decided to take what he wanted, killing her after the fact so she couldn’t turn him in. “Is that a bad thing?” Kobee asked with some panic.
“Well, it’s not good. What did you do when you got home?”
“I went to bed and then about two hours later the cops broke down my door and dragged me out in handcuffs.”
“Did they tell you why and advise you of your rights?”
“Yes.”
“Did they question you without a parent present?”
“Yes.” Bingo, finally something in their favour.
“What did they ask you and do you remember the names of the officer that was questioning you?” He asked quickly jotting down key notes he wished to remember.
“They asked me if I knew her. They asked where I was when she was murdered. They kept telling me things would go easier on me if I just confessed. That maybe they could convince the DA to prosecute me as a minor. Said if I didn’t confess and I put them through all the trouble of wasting their time proving I did it that I would likely get the death penalty.”
“And what did you say?”
“I confessed I knew her. I told them where I had been and I begged them to let me see my Father. I was scared.” So, they put the screws to a minor without counsel or his parents. That was a violation of Kobee’s rights. He could work with that and use it to get anything he might have said thrown out.
“After your father arrived and requested a lawyer did they get you one promptly?”
“It took a few hours.”
“How long do you think you were in an interrogation from the moment you walked in the room to the moment they walked you out?”
Kobee sat back in his seat and sighed. “I don’t know maybe six hours.”
“How much of that time was spent with your lawyer?”
“Twenty minutes… maybe.”
“Did they ever during this time offer you food or water?”
“No.”
“Did you ever ask?”
“I asked for some water. I was nervous, and my throat was dry.” Good, another violation he could work with.
“Did you have any blood on you? For any reason at all?”
Kobee looked like he thought it was a strange question. “No.”
“When was the last time you spoke to the victim?”
“I don’t know, weeks ago.” So, then there would be no reason her DNA would be on him, nor his DNA on her.
“Last question. What were the names of the officers that interrogated you?”
“I don’t remember.”
It was fine he could easily find that out. He finished his notes and returned everything to his briefcase. He had to get back to the office. “Alright you sit tight kiddo, and I promise you’ll be out of this place by morning.” He said heading for the door. He knocked on the glass, and the guard let him out. He looked back to see the guard escorting Kobee out of the room. The exit opened, and the guard that walked Brandon in walked him back out where his personal effects that had been taken were returned.
He was on his way out the door when he came across Miss. Lee coming in. She smiled excitedly when she saw him. “Mr. Sanchez, I’m so glad to see you. Did you speak with Kobee?” She asked stepping in front of him so he couldn’t get around her.
“Yes, I did.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think he’s got a hard case, but I have a few leads to follow. I really can’t say much else it’s a confidentiality issue.”
She looked confused her porcelain brow furrowed with uncertainty. “But my family hired you sure you can tell us.”
“I’m sorry I can’t divulge what was said between us. Since Kobee is a minor, I can tell his parents, but that’s it. You’ll have to get your information from them.” He said stepping around her and heading down the steps to the front door.
“Well can’t you at least tell me what your plans are?” She asked following him down the steps, her short legs moving quickly to keep up with his long strides. “Please tell me what you intend to do.”
Brandon stopped at the doors, and with his hand on the handle he faced her. “Well, I intend to get him transferred to a minimum-security detention center.”
“How do you intend to do that?” She asked completely focused on him.
“I know some people I can pull some strings.”
“Then what?”
“Then from there, I’m going to the police station to interview the arresting officers. I have some questions, and they better have some answers.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“It could go either way. Excuse me I’m running late.” He said going out he would have to take the ferry back. He was going to be late for his next appointment if he missed the boat. He was rushing to the ferry with Miss. Lee hot on his heels.
“Mr. Sanchez, I would like to help in any way I can.” She said trying to keep up.
“Right now, the best and most useful thing you can do is to stay out of my way. You did your part; you hired me; now let the professionals deal with the rest.” He said stepping onto the ferry.
She wasn’t settling for his answer. “There must be something I can do to help.” She insisted on getting on the ferry with him. “You’re doing this without the benefit of your firm which means your resources are limited. You might need an assistant someone to read and take notes, someone to bring you coffee or dinner.”
“I don’t need an assistant.”
“If you’re going to be interviewing anyone in China Town you’re going to need a translator.”
“They speak English in China Town too.”
“Not everyone.” She said with a cocky smile. “Do you speak Japanese?” No, he didn’t. “Do you speak Chinese?” No, he didn’t speak that one either. He spoke six different languages thanks to his well-educated childhood. They had travelled a lot growing up, all over the world. He spoke English, Spanish, French, Greek, Italian, and Russian, but in his vast repertoire, lingual skills Japanese and Chinese were not among them. When he didn’t answer, she crossed her arms confidently and smiled. “See you do need me. I can be useful.”
He supposed he could use a translator. “Ok, you can help, but you have to let me do my job without interference, which means you ask the questions I ask and you keep quiet otherwise. If you get in my way, I’ll cut you loose like dead weight.”
“You got it. So, what are we doing?”
“I’m going back to work, and you will meet me tonight at say about six o’clock at the precinct.” For now, he had other cases that required his attention. He was a busy man and with taking on Kobee Lee’s case in his off time would almost guarantee that he would have no personal time. The next few weeks we're going to be very hectic.
***
Brandon shook the judge’s hand as he came into Judge Oscar Schneider’s chambers. He was a man of fifty-seven with fifteen years on the bench. He was a short man with greying hair and the sort of look on his face that always made him look mean. But socially he was a pretty nice guy, fair and reasonable.
“Well look at you.” Judge Schneider smiled as he shook Brandon’s hand. “All grown up and done school. I hear you finish first in your class.”
“It was some stiff competition.” He said taking a seat in front of the desk next to the DA who was a less than friendly man. He was a man that took his job way too personally. Sweeping through the justice system like an avenging angel punishing those he deemed wicked.
“And how’s your father?” The judged asked taking a seat at his desk.
“Oh, he’s well he’s on business in California right now.”
“And your mother?”
“Also, well. How’s your wife?”
“She’s doing well; she’s excited to be a grandmother. Our daughter is expecting her first child any day now.”
“Congratulations.”
“Can we get to business? I’m a busy man.” The DA snarled and glanced at his watch.
Brandon knew this man too. Richard Graham was a grade-A jerk, a hard ass that liked to spout the gospel to hammer home his point. He was also a racist son-of-a-b***h that came down far harder on minorities than he did on white defendants. Brandon was sure that was why he was throwing the book at Kobee.
Mr. Graham was a tall, thin man with thinning hair, a long nose, a permanent sneer and an air of arrogance that made him unapproachable. He sat in his seat with his back ramrod straight, one leg crossed over the other and his fingers steepled, he looked like a bad guy from a James Bond movie; and his disposition wasn’t any better.
“I’m due in court in an hour. Let’s get this farce over with.” Mr. Graham said.
“I am also due in court shortly so let’s get to it.” Judge Schneider said relaxing back in his seat and turning his attention to Brandon. “Let’s go, counsellor, state your piece.”
“Right to the point, I would like my client Mr. Kobee Lee transferred to a minimum-security holding center.”
“Not.” Mr. Graham snapped. “The boy is a brutal rapist and a murder; he belongs in Rikers.”
“He’s seventeen and innocent until proven guilty. He’s just a scared kid who is being railroaded by an overzealous District Attorney more concerned with his conviction rate than the truth. My client was dragged from his bed in the middle of the night, locked in an interrogation room for six hours and grilled without the benefit of counsel or the presence of a parent. He was denied food and water and told if he didn’t confess the DA would see him put to death. The police handled this incident with gross misconduct, and in doing so, they trampled my client’s rights. Nothing he said in that interrogation is admissible. He’s just a kid; he doesn’t belong locked up with hardened criminals.”
“Kobee Lee raped a sixteen-year-old girl before stabbing her seven times and slitting her throat. He is a dangerous criminal and deserves no special consideration because he’s seventeen. He is being tried as an adult, and he should be remanded as an adult.” Mr. Graham argued.
“The District Attorney has no physical evidence tying my client to the assault. This incarceration in Rikers is overkill.”
“Your Honour, we have three eyewitnesses that will testify to seeing Mr. Lee leave the alley at the time of the murder.”
“Yes, I’ve read the police report. He has two witnesses that remember seeing an Asian boy in the vicinity of the crime scene, and an eighty-six-year-old woman with glaucoma saying she could recognize a particular face from a fourth-floor window, across the street in the dark on a dimly lit street. I seriously question the viability of these so-called witnesses being able to pick my client out of a lineup.” Brandon argued.
“Are you saying there has been no lineup?” Judge Schneider asked looking at Mr. Graham with displeasure.
“No there was no lineup.” Mr. Graham confessed.
“And with no line up, there is no positive identification. The DA skipped the lineup and simply threw my client into Rikers. He should have never left the remand center.”
“I agree.” Judge Schneider said. “I believe the boy’s rights have been violated and your office Mr. Graham has no right to remand a minor to a maximum-security facility when you don’t have so much as one positive identification.”
“Your Honour-” Mr. Graham began only to be silenced with a look.
“It is my judgment that Mr. Lee will be transferred to a minimum-security holding center while he awaits trial. In the meantime, counsellor, I suggest you get some solid evidence against the boy, so far, I am not impressed with how your department has been conducting this investigation. Shape up Mr. Graham, or I will hold you in contempt.” He then rose to his feet. “Now if you boys will excuse me I am due in court.” He said ushering them both out into the hallway.
Brandon was heading for the elevator when Mr. Graham spoke, “How does a promising lawyer, top in his class, go from the pursuit of justice to defending lowlife murderers? Do you feel good about what you’ve just done?”
Brandon pressed the button to the elevator with a smile. “Justice for all counsellor, that includes poor ethnic kids being intimidated by the very system designed to protect them. You’re destroying the life of a seventeen-year-old boy; does that make you feel good?”
“Yes, because I don’t have the luxury of thinking about the poor boy you say he is, because I have to think of the victim and her family. Have you seen the crime scene photos? I’ll have my office send a copy over. You look at them, and you tell me the man that did it isn’t a monster.”
“I agree it is tragic that a girl lost her life but let’s not compound the tragedy by prosecuting the wrong man. It’s your job to find the guy who did this, and it’s my job to defend the innocent.” The elevator doors opened, and Brandon stepped on the elevator. “See you in court.”
- Writer
