uncle Robert had provided him with his false identity, and Adam had adopted his Anglo name. Since then, everyone had called him Bobby.
“Mr. Tanner, nice to see you,” said the judge, an elegant amazon with fair skin and a firm jaw.
“And you, Your Honor,” Johnny said.
“What brings you here today?” She glanced over the bridge of her cat eye glasses.
Johnny pointed to Bobby with an open palm.
The judge glanced at Bobby and then studied the papers in front of her. “Waive the reading?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Johnny said.
The judge turned to the assistant district attorney at the desk opposite Johnny. He looked too young to be enforcing laws.
“Notices?” the judge said.
“Yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said. “7-10-31-A.”
Johnny’s neck snapped in his direction. The judge extended her hand. The prosecutor gave the judge and Johnny copies of his report.
The prosecutor read from the second page. “ ‘We bumped into each other accidentally on the street. We got into an argument over whose fault it was. He came at me with a knife. Luckily I managed to catch his wrist with my left hand and grab my screwdriver with my right. I couldn’t bring myself to stab him in the eye so I stabbed him in the neck instead.’ ”
“I don’t understand, Your Honor,” Johnny said. “Doesn’t sound like a confession to murder. Sounds more like a textbook application for self defense protection under Article 35.”
“Except there was no knife at the crime scene,” the assistant district attorney said. “And the state has an eyewitness who will testify the victim had no weapon. That the defendant attacked him. The eyewitness is a former police officer.”
“This is the first I’m hearing of this, Your Honor,” Johnny said. “The police must have extracted this statement before I had a chance to confer with my client.”
“The defendant waived his fifth amendment rights,” the prosecutor said.
“Because he was scared and confused,” Johnny said. “He’s barely seventeen.”
“He was calm, cool, and collected when he told his story. Ask the detectives.”
“There’s an impartial bunch.”
“That’s enough, gentlemen,” the judge said. She looked at the prosecutor. “Bail?”
“Given the severity of the charges, Your Honor, the people ask for remand.”
The judge turned to Johnny.
“Your Honor, my client has no priors,” Johnny said. “He’s a student at Fordham Prep School in the Bronx. He has an excellent academic record and he’s a star hockey player. He has strong ties to the community. His legal guardian is here today.”
Johnny glanced over his shoulder.
Nadia stood up and raised her hand. All eyes turned to her. She didn’t smile, nod, or channel positive energy. Instead, she seethed. There was no way Bobby had killed a man. In fact, there was no way he’d lifted a hand to another human being unless his life had been threatened. He wasn’t temperamental or violent, and he’d worked too hard to get to America. He was living his dream. The probability he would throw it all away in a fit of rage was zero.
“Given the severity of the charges—murder in the first degree—I’m inclined to agree with the prosecution,” the judge said. “Defendant is remanded into custody.”
The sheriff whisked Bobby out of the courtroom.
This time, Bobby didn’t even bother to look at Nadia.
CHAPTER 4
N ADIA BOUGHT THE Wednesday papers on the way home from the arraignment to her apartment on East 82nd Street. She feared the murder might be the cover story on either the Post or Daily News . But a prostitution ring catering to wealthy financiers and politicos had been busted in Manhattan. Speculation about the names in the madam’s black book dominated the press. Also, New York City still averaged more than five hundred homicides a year. Not every one could make the cover of the papers. And the victim wasn’t anyone particularly important or sympathetic. He was a random