Misdemeanor Trials by Milton Schacter Read Free Book Online Page A

courtroom they were going to, about the cases they were handling that day, and the results of their most recent trial, along with some pointed criticisms of the judges.  He heard one person say they were going to Crawford's courtroom.  He was tempted to turn around so he would know who to follow.  When the doors opened, he exited quickly, stepped to the side, let the other lawyers pass.  He then fell in behind and followed them on the short walk to the mysterious Hall of Justice where the courtroom caves with demons dressed in black robes waited to eat him alive.
    At the door to the Hall of Justice, the line was long, populated by people Trader thought looked like criminals.  They were waiting to go through the metal detectors.  There were fat guys, with multiple tattoos on their arms.  John wondered if they thought the tattoos made them attractive, or possibly more attractive.  There were several ladies dressed in CFM heeled shoes, with straps and dresses, plunging necklines and very thin material that looked more appropriate for a bar, or a bridesmaid.  There was another line that was for prospective jurors.  They were generally nicely dressed, short hair for the men and nicely arranged hair for the women.  There were no tattoos or sexy dresses.  The attorneys who he was following headed for a third line that moved quickly.  No attorney had to go through a metal detector and the deputy waved them through.  When Trader approached the deputy stopped him. 
    “I don't recognize you.  Do you have a Bar Card?”
    “No,” said John.  “It hasn't been mailed to me yet.  I'm a new D.A.”
    “Sorry,” said the Deputy, “You'll have to go through the metal detector.”
    John took his place at the end of the line, by now 20 deep, holding his files as he moved half-step at a time, closer to the metal detector.  When he arrived, he was handed a plastic box.  “In here,” said the Deputy.  Trader undid his belt, pulled off his watch, took the pens from his coat pocket, took out his wallet and then patted himself to see if he had forgotten anything.  When he walked through the metal detector, the alarm sounded.
    “Please step forward and raise your arms,” said the deputy.  With a bored expression the deputy began to waive the wand over Trader's arms and body.  The wand sounded an alarm multiple times.  “Are you sure you emptied all of your pockets?” asked the Deputy.
    “Yes,” said Trader.
    “Do you have metal in your body?” asked the Deputy.
    “Yes,” said Trader.
    “Implants?” asked the deputy.
    “No,” said Trader.  “Shrapnel.”

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    CRAWFORD
    “Justice brings closure, not fairness.”
    --Nicole Simpson
    Trader walked to the Hall of Justice directory next to the elevators and looked for Judge Crawford's courtroom.  There were courtroom numbers one through twelve and a Judge's name, but no indication of which floor the courtrooms were located.  Trader knew this was the best guidance the government could give.  It was evident that there were no incentives for any judge to have anyone find out where their courtroom was.  If people found them, it meant work, or they would have to make a decision, or they would have to put on that black dress they called a robe.  He must have appeared bewildered because he heard a female voice behind him ask, “Are you going to Crawford's courtroom?”
    Trader turned, and his elbow brushed up against the soft and forgiving feel of a woman's breast.  He saw her and she looked at him at that moment, and a pleasant warm rush of excitement went through his body, and he knew that if he ever in his life blushed, it was probably now.  She looked up at the elevator and said, “Follow me.  He is on the third floor.  I'm going there too.” She paused for a moment and said, “You must be one of the new D.A.s.  Welcome to the Zoo.”
    Trader saw a well-dressed business suit, hiding a slightly cherubic body.  Her hair was long and