The Sacrificial Lamb

Ernest strode in, put his hands on the back of a leather armchair, leaned in menacingly, and stared into Prosecutor Hank Abner’s eyes with unmitigated contempt.

Prosecutor Hank Abner was a former military man. He wore his suits pressed, shirts starched, and face stern. People around the office called him Captain and saluted with a clipped “Oh Captain, my Captain.” Not in the literary sense of being a rebel who spurned authority, but in the sense that he was the authority.

“What is this?” Prosecutor Hank Abner asked.

“Cannon has something he needs to talk to us about,” his First Assistant Rocco said. “Something important.”

“Whatever it is, the answer is no. No trial delays. No continuances. No evidence dumps. I’ve had just about enough of your courtroom theatrics for one lifetime, old friend. Let’s just play this one straight and leave it for a jury to decide.”

Ernest tugged on his mustache and grimaced.

“I don’t want to be here anymore than you would, were you in my shoes,” Ernest said. “And don’t take the look on my muzzle personally, I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at the situation we have here, you and me.”

“What situation is that? Why are you troubled?”

“Because I have to ask you for a favor,” Ernest said.

“A favor? Ernest, we’ve known each other for almost thirty years. I’ve never heard of you asking anyone for anything.”

“And I’ve known you just as long, Hank, and I’ve never heard of you giving the defense bar so much as the time of day.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I need to bow out of this one, at least as far as first chairing the trial.”

“You need to what?”

“Bow out.” Ernest did a little mock hat flip and a curtsy. “With your blessing, Captain.”

“Why would you need to bow out.”

“Doctor says they need to chop one of my balls off. And blast my willy with some x-rays for a few weeks.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah, testicular cancer. Ironic, huh?”

“You always did have balls of steel.”

“So, what I was thinking is that I could hire one of the kids from the stables off of you as my understudy, and I’d get them ready for the Trial, and they’d first chair. We’d waive any conflicts. This way, we keep the trial date, keep Judge Kennedy happy, and justice is served. Frank gets his day in court. And the jury calls it. What do you think?”

“Is this some kind of ploy to plant the seeds for an appeal? I can see the headline, fallen cop loses his attorney and gets defended by a biased lackey former prosecutor, making it ineffective assistance of counsel. Is that the angle?”

“Slow down, Hank. We have a problem here, you and I, and it is a lot bigger than Frank Murphy. You and I have a duty to see this thing is resolved before they burn down this entire town. If not for that, I’d take my continuance, rest up and kick your ass. What have you got to lose? Surely Jeb will run the tables on a rookie.”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks. We will waive any conflict. I just need our volunteer to be ready to give a full-throated defense.”

“That’s literally the craziest idea I’ve ever heard. How would I even get one of them to agree to that?”

Rocco chimed in, “Hank, I can get one of them to volunteer, if not get Ernest a few to pick from. These kids are chomping at the bit to get a trial under their belt. It’s the least we can do. If anything, having Ernest on the bench doesn’t hurt our chances. One of our boys would get some experience in a Murder One case. I don’t see the downside.”

“Rocco, the downside is, we don’t outsource a defense to criminals,” Hank said.

“This is an exception,” Rocco said. “I’d go so far as to say that professional courtesy requires it. It’s either that or a long continuance, which no one wants. Which the community won’t stand for.”

Hank stared at Ernest, keeping his gaze for a long uncomfortable tense moment where their wills were matched and wrestling one another for position.

“You’re really in a bad way?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I weren’t, Hank,” Ernest said, raising his right hand and placing the left on the chair back, “Right hand to God, left hand on the Bible, this is for real.”

“Jesus,” Hank said, “And Frank Murphy is on board with this?”

“He will be. Wanted to make sure you’d go for it, and I could find someone first.”

“Who did you want?” Hank asked.

“I’d take Danny Berringer if he was up for it,” Ernest said, “But I’ll settle for who I can get.”

“Okay,” Hank said, waving his hand, “Get out of here. Go pick one of them. Just make sure they want the job. Whoever it is we are gunning for them. No mercy on this one. No special treatment.”

“No mercy. Got it,” Ernest said.

Looking back to where Hank was already back, nose-deep in a stack of papers, Ernest said, “Hey Hank.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t forget this, my friend.”

“You’re welcome, Ernest, now get.”

* * *

Rocco had assembled everyone from the stables in the Grand Jury room. He stood at the lectern in front with a scowl.

He had a gray beard that was clipped and cut short, but not too short. Thick-framed glasses. A prominent forehead. There was something fatherly about him. But you knew from the way he discussed the cases that he had a past. Rumors around the office were that after serving in Vietnam he had become disenchanted and joined up with the Hell’s Angels. That he had a rambunctious streak a mile wide and had once been on the other side of the law. Maybe they were just rumors that stemmed from the fact that he still rode his Harley on weekends and had once been a Detective before finishing his law degree, making it into the legal field later in life.

A.P. Berringer and A.P. Kaur finally sauntered in and took their seats.

Rocco didn’t wait for the prosecutors from the stable to get settled or stop jabbering before getting down to business.

“I know you are all here because you are gunning for slots on the Trial Team. The way our office works is we go by seniority and merit. There aren’t many chances to get your feet wet outside of juvenile trials and misdemeanor cases. But once in a while, an opportunity comes along”

Rocco stopped speaking and paused for a long moment.

“I am here to offer one of you a chance to do something that is very unusual. Unprecedented even. A chance to put your skills to work and first-chair a big trial. But there’s a catch.”

“I’m in,” Danny Berringer said. “What is it?”

“Not so fast, Danny. Before you sign up, don’t you want to know what you’re in for?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m ready. Put me in, coach.”

“Well, that’s where the catch comes in. I won’t be putting you into anything. We’re talking about playing for the other team on this one—we’re looking for a volunteer to join the defense.”

“What?” Sonya asked.

“Here’s the thing,” Rocco said, measuring his words, “Ernest Cannon can’t proceed with the trial for Frank Murphy. He has an, ehh, medical issue, that’s going to sideline him. And he wants to hand-pick one of you to take over the Trial. Now look. The evidence is incontrovertible. No one expects you to get an acquittal, God forbid. But it would be a chance to get a murder trial under your belt early in your career. A chance you shouldn’t lightly pass up.”

“Are you serious? I’m not going to help a murderer get off. Let alone Frank Murphy, that traitor deserves to fry!” Berringer said.

“Don’t disqualify yourself so quickly, Danny. This is a big chance. Potentially, career making. Whatever happens, whoever volunteers will have a chance to be hired back after the trial. It’s just a necessity that Frank Murphy has competent counsel so that his conviction won’t be overturned. Delaying the trial isn’t an option – there would be blood int eh streets,” Rocco said.

“You guys approved this? This is just another one of Cannon’s tricks,” Craig said.

“It’s no joke. I assure you. Cannon has cancer. It’s an unfortunate and lamentable reality we’ve got to deal with. Now, Cannon is going to be coming in here in a moment with Prosecutor Abner. He’s going to vet you and see who wants to volunteer. To be clear, there is absolutely no requirement for any of you to go along with this. It was just an idea we worked out with the defense to keep this trial on track and make sure justice is served.”

The room fell silent. And this was a group that never stopped jabbering. All of the prosecutors in the stable just looked at each other, trying to figure out who might volunteer, and secretly wanting to throw their hat in the ring—but scared to say so—and potentially be branded a turncoat.

Ernest Cannon strolled in like he still had a Prosecutor’s badge in his wallet, and said, “Who wants to join the dark side?”

The group of young lawyers just stared ahead, blankly, not knowing what to do. All of their eyes were fixed on the legendary criminal defense attorney, intently watching him as he tugged on his bushy mustache and twisted it, squinting his eye angrily as he spoke down at them.

“Don’t all jump at once,” Ernest said. “I get it, you all want a night on the town, want to be served some nice wine, and fed a nice steak dinner before getting to the main event. Well, I’m not going to sugarcoat it, this is a hard-luck assignment. You’ll be working around the clock. Living on energy drinks and adrenaline. Sustained only by fear and the threat of sanctions from Judge Kennedy if you aren’t prepared. You’ll be up against the full weight of the Prosecutor’s Office. Your only ally will be yours truly, and I’ll be a shadow of my former self, on a daily regimen of radiation therapy, relegated to a liquid diet, and you bet that will be supplemented with the copious inclusion of healthy doses of whiskey and Percocet. So dear old Uncle Ernest won’t be there to save you.”

As he spoke, Ernest looked from face-to-face, one at a time, from Danny, down the line, then over to Rocco, then back to Danny. Stopping from time to time to let their minds catch up.

“Oh, and let’s not forget that you’re going to have a flesh-and-blood client to represent, Frank Murphy, the most decorated officer to ever wear the uniform of a Jersey City Police Officer. His life and the life of his family, and all their prospects for the future, hangs in the balance of the verdict.

You’ll be judged on your performance, probably for the rest of your career, and whatever Rocco tells you, there are no guarantees in life—no guarantee you get your chair back at the stable—no guarantee I don’t fire you on the spot the moment the jury delivers its verdict.”

Ernest scanned the room some more and yanked on his mustache, his squinty eye becoming angrier with each pull.

“Now, you are hopelessly underprepared for this, lack the experience and skill to go up against Jeb Gold—the finest prosecutor ever to grace these halls, and if anyone ever tells him I said that—I will personally whoop your ass. Not only that, but you also lack the discernment to properly navigate Judge Kennedy’s enigmatic rulings and the stones to stand up to me. Let’s not even get started on Frank’s wife and kids. And your challenges don’t stop there.

You’ll have to answer to the media, which you have zero experience with. There are rioters who will want you shot dead on sight. You’ll be getting daily death threats. And for the law enforcement faithful, the old-timers who support Frank, you are going to be hailed as the second coming of Christ himself. As if all of that isn’t enough, you’ll be doing all of this with basically no help—without a friend in the world.”

Ernest was now pulling his mustache so hard it was tugging his lip up and revealing part of the canine tooth below it.

“You can’t go crying to mama, you can’t ask for a care package from dada, or even get bailed out by dear old Uncle Ernest. In that courtroom, you’ll be all alone. Now, I know, you’ve navigated college, law school, baby prosecutor’s school, and set foot in court a few times, and you are feeling your oats. Forget all that. It doesn’t mean shit.”

“This is the big league. This is for all the chips. There are no do-overs. Frank Murphy’s life and the lives of the fallen victims are all crying out for justice. And you will be its mouthpiece. So, my advice to you—is don’t volunteer. Because to be dead-fucking-honest, I don’t know if I could have done it back when I was sitting in the stable, and I am Ernest-fucking-Cannon. Even I needed years to get ready before handling something like this. You won’t. This is an instance of the sheep being thrown to the wolves if I’ve ever seen one. And whoever volunteers is probably going to be torn to bits. I’ll give you a minute to talk amongst yourselves, and then I’ll voir dire the prospects and choose a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter.”

Ernest Cannon finished his speech and paused, tugging and twisting that mustache for all it was worth, and squinting angrily at the lot of them.

All seven hands shot to the rafters at once.

“Oh, so I guess I have your attention now,” Ernest said.

* * *

As I shuffled in, back from detention hearings, everyone was talking amongst themselves and waiting for Ernest Cannon to grill his next candidate. “What is going on in here,” I said to Craig, leaning in, covering my comments with my hand. He shot me a crazy glance and leaned back and whispered to me, “Cannon is out. Cancer. They want one of us to understudy the case and first chair the trial. Rocco approved it. So has Abner. The whole thing is nuts.”

“First chair,” I said.

“Right. First chair.”

I looked at him in disbelief, “So the volunteer leaves the office, and becomes a defense attorney? Tries the damn case himself?”

Craig looked over at me, shaking his head, “Yeah. It’s like a limited engagement thing, then they come back to the office.”

While Ernest Cannon gave A.P. Kaur the voir dire treatment, I asked, “How’s that work? The office guarantees they’ll hire you back, after tendering resignation—doesn’t that need freeholder approval?”

Craig shook his head again. “It’s got Captain Abner approval.”

I nodded. “Oh,” I said.

“I have a question?” I asked, my hand raised in Rocco’s direction. Cannon shot me a look and continued his cross-examination of Kaur, undeterred, but was clearly not pleased with me.

“Jesus, what is it, David?” Rocco said. “Ernest is examining the volunteers.”

“What if Frank is acquitted?” I asked. Cannon was looking at someone else, but when I said it, his eyes turned and fixed on mine, just for a moment.

“That’ll never happen,” Rocco said, shaking his head.

“But the offer to return to the office would still be open, hypothetically, if he were acquitted, correct?” I asked.

“Yes, David. Yes. Of course. That’s part of the deal. Now, if there isn’t anything else,” Rocco said, “Let the man pick one of the A.P.’s.”

Ernest had already eliminated five candidates. It was just Berringer, Swanson, and myself left.

Ernest pointed at Craig and said, “Mr. Swanson, when is the last time you stayed up past midnight working on a file?”

“Never.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Ernest pointed at Danny Berringer, saying, “Jed’s star pupil, at last. Don’t let me down, Mr. Berringer.”

“I’ll try not to,” Danny said.

“Now pay attention, because if you don’t answer the first question correctly, you don’t get a second, understand?”

“What have you got for me?”

“Do you put Frank Murphy on the stand, yes or no?”

“Hell no. You never put a guilty man on the witness stand,” Danny said.

“Regretfully, son. I think you drank too much Cool Aid. I don’t think I can use you,” Ernest said.

“What?” Danny said, “I’m the only one here who is ready to try a case of this magnitude.”

“Maybe,” Ernest said, “But if you can’t convince yourself of Frank’s innocence, you’ll never convince a jury.”

Ernest pointed at me, “David…”

“—Hogan,” I interrupted.

“Right. You want the job?”

“I do, sir,” I said.

“Just call me Ernest,” he said. “Looks like you’re with me.”

“You aren’t going to ask me any questions?” I asked.

“I know who you are. I know you’ve got more to gain from this than you have to lose. That’s enough for me.”

“I don’t have anything to lose, sir,” I said.

“Exactly. Besides, I can’t use any of these Pharisees. You’re the only chance I’ve got.”

“You’ve got your sacrificial lamb,” Rocco said to Ernest. “You’re going to get slaughtered, kid,” Rocco said, shaking his head and looking pitiably in my direction.

“Rocco,” Ernest said, tipping a non-existent hat to signal we were going, “You’ll send me over the paperwork, won’t you? I need to get started getting this kid up to speed right away. We’re going to need all the time we can get.”

“Certainly,” Rocco said.

“Kid, get your things and meet me in the lobby. We’ve got work to do.”