recessed the court and went into his chambers while the prosecutors and defense attorneys met to discuss plea bargains. His intercom line on the telephone buzzed. It was his clerk, Louise Moreno.
“Judge, we need you to take the bench again, and I need to talk to you.”
“Why?” Hart asked.
“There are television cameras.”
“Okay, come back here and tell me about it.” Hart put down the phone and waited for Louise. If there was a big case in his courtroom, Hart wanted to know about it before he entered the courtroom. He needed a chance to think about the possible issues first. Especially given the upcoming election.
Under California election law, if no one opposed him, his name would not appear on the ballot and he would automatically be elected. On the other hand, if someone ran against him, he would have to wage a costly campaign—easily over a hundred thousand dollars—even if no serious opponent ran against him. Hart was glad that he was almost invisible in this assignment. If he could just keep it that way, no one would think of running against him.
Louise came into his chambers with the case file and some documents paper-clipped to the folder. Hart was grateful to have a clerk as organized and knowledgeable as Louise. Her previous judge retired after thirty years on the bench, and she’d been with him the last twenty. She knew the system inside and out. Slim and fit, with smooth skin and salt-and-pepper hair, she didn’t look nearly old enough to have so much experience.
Hart looked at the documents first. They were requests from the press to bring cameras and microphones into the courtroom. He didn’t like that. Cameras meant posturing by the lawyers and his having to be on guard at all times. But the public did have a right to know, so his policy was to allow cameras in, unless there was a good reason not to.
He looked through the file and read the criminal complaint. He didn’t recognize the name of the defendant, Gina Black. It was a vehicular manslaughter case, but that was all he could discern. Because the law required a judge to learn about a case by taking evidence during a hearing, court files contained no police or other reports. If a defendant pled guilty, or if there was a plea bargain, a judge would order a probation report, which would summarize everything about the case and include an entire background history on the defendant. After reading that report, the judge could decide whether to accept the plea bargain, and also determine what the appropriate sentence should be.
He looked up at Louise. “What’s the deal on this case?”
“The defendant is represented by Amanda Jordan.”
Hart smiled. If the lawyer was Amanda Jordan that explained a lot. She was one of the most prestigious defense attorneys in the country. Five years ago, she represented Patricia Huntington, accused of murdering her husband, Senator Arthur Huntington. The acquittal received national attention. In Hart’s early days as a deputy district attorney, Jordan was a public defender, and they were often on opposite sides in court. She was one of the most thorough and professional lawyers he’d ever been up against. In fact, he’d never beaten her in court.
Louise handed Hart a document. “The lawyers have filed a stipulation that you may read the pre-plea probation report.”
Hart read the report, which indicated that the defendant, a female surgeon, had been driving at a high rate of speed down Kanan Dume Road to get back to the hospital for an emergency surgery. She took a curve too fast, crossed over the double yellow line, and hit another car head-on, forcing it off the road, into a ravine. The defendant was okay, and had not been drinking, but both people in the other car were killed. The victims were the pregnant wife and six-year-old son of an LAPD lieutenant.
Now Hart understood. It would be a difficult and emotional case. What happened to this Gina Black could happen to anyone. But the law was