Portal to Justice
The Peace Front's Kunming headquarters occupied the sixth and seventh floors of a building no longer stylish. Paddy Davies' corner office was not large, given his position, but it easily accommodated the five guest chairs with key-pad arms and monitors. Like the rest of the furnishings, they were not new, but in recent centuries, equipment had obsolesced slowly.
Two of the guest chairs were occupied, while Paddy sat at his modest desk. He and Jaromir Horvath were already familiar with the text on the wall screen. The third person, Perfeta Stolz, was reading it, "flipping pages" with her key-pad. Rapidly. She had a quick and practiced eye and mind. Occasionally she triggered a hypertext link for details.
The pages bore a header: "Summary of Charges and Evidence Against Joseph Steven Switzer."
Davies watched Stolz, not the screen. To him, her strongly-built body and broad face suggested Native American lineage. (Actually she was half Igorot on her mother's side, and a quarter Buryat on her father's.) When she'd finished the last page, she looked across at him.
"He doesn't stand a chance of acquittal," she said. "The best anyone can do for Switzer is enter a guilty plea and ask for the mercy of the court. The government has generally handled Peace Front cases quite moderately." She paused, aware of what these men really wanted. They didn't like what she'd just said, and they'd reject what she'd say next, but it was necessary to say it. "A court-appointed attorney can do that as well as I, at no cost to you."
It was Horvath who answered, his voice dry and sour. "Leniency is not the objective," he said. "We want maximum mileage from the media."
"Mr. Horvath, I can guarantee lots of press, but it won't help the defendant, and it won't turn public opinion."
Paddy answered this time. "We know it won't turn the verdict. As for the public? It will be worthwhile if we can simply touch them. Touch their souls. Keep the shame of this war before their eyes."
He thinks in cliches, Stolz told herself. They both do. "What you want me to do will aggravate the court," she pointed out, knowing that wouldn't impress them either. "It could even result in a sentence more severe than it might otherwise be."
Horvath answered again, surlier than before. "There are other legal firms we can hire."
She locked eyes with him, his challenging, hers steady and unyielding. "And what of Switzer?"
Paddy stepped into the breach. "An appropriate question, Counselor. But I've talked with Joseph, and he agrees. He wants us to make the most of this. For the Front and for peace. Before we pass the point of no return."
Stolz examined her broad brown hands, their nails neat and strong but not pampered, then looked back up at Davies. "You realize that it's Mr. Switzer who must ask for the change of attorneys. I can propose it to him, but it is he who must request it of the court."
"Of course. Of course. And quite as it should be. I cleared it with him before calling you."
Once more Horvath broke in, drawing a grimace from Davies. "We don't pay your firm a retainer for arguments about what we want."
"Nor have I given you one," Stolz answered calmly. "You pay a retainer for our prompt attention and our professional opinion. I have given you both." Abruptly she stood. "I will talk with Mr. Switzer. If he agrees, I will represent him, but I will also inform him honestly of the prospects." She returned her gaze to Davies. "You will be paying the fees, and I will get you what you pay for: public attention. With Mr. Switzer's agreement."
Davies got to his feet and stepped from behind his desk, hand extended for hers. "That's exactly as we want it, Counselor. I have a copy of the cube for you… "
Stolz reviewed the cube in her office, looking for cracks in the case and finding none. Hmh! she thought. He dreamed up the mission, knew the risks, and volunteered to carry it out. But knowing the risks, and having them crash down on you, are two different things, she reminded herself. He's lucky this isn't a vengeful, reactive government.
The next morning, a slump-shouldered Joseph Switzer stepped into a small concrete room. He wore blue prison clothing, faded by many trips through the prison laundry. A guard gripped his arm. In the middle of the room, two chairs were bolted to the floor, facing each other five feet apart. His court-appointed defender stood by one of them. Switzer's gaze dropped to the floor again.
"Shall I leave now, Counselor?" the guard asked.
"Yes, thank you," the defender said. Without a word, the guard let go of Switzer's arm and left the room, closing the door behind him, then stood looking in through its thick glass window.
Switzer simply stood unmoving. The attorney was notably taller than he was. Her kinky brown hair was cut close as a cap. Her professional black pants suit emphasized her slimness, and made her caramel complexion seem light by contrast.
"Shall we sit down, Joseph?" she asked gesturing. He nodded, stepped to a chair, and they sat down facing each other.
"I'm told you've asked that I be replaced by another attorney, one hired by the Peace Front. If that's what you wish, I'm required to step aside."
His voice was low and husky. "That's how I want it."
"The Peace Front is less interested in minimizing your sentence than in making the Front look good. Do you realize that?"
He nodded, barely.
"Are you aware of how strong the evidence is against you?"
Again his nod was slight.
"Perfeta Stolz is an excellent attorney. But it is entirely possible that I can get you a lighter sentence than she can. Because leniency would be the entire thrust of my effort, while hers will be on getting the Front as much publicity as possible. Do you understand that also?"
"That's how I want it," he repeated.
She searched his face for some sign of defiance or stoicism, or perhaps nobility-the noble martyr. She found none of them. He looked defeated, his eyes avoiding hers. Not a promising hero for the Front. But Stolz had a reputation as a courtroom psychologist, with skill in preparing her clients.
"Well then," she said, getting to her feet, "my best wishes for a successful trial." However you define success.
Her blessing didn't sound entirely genuine. She was a competitor, a young soul, and didn't think much of surrender.
Arraignment took place in a small closed chamber. Journalists were not allowed, though the attorneys might well find the media waiting in the Justice Building courtyard.
Besides the panel of three judges, the chamber held Joseph Switzer, his counsel, the prosecutor, a bailiff, and two deputies flanking the accused. Switzer looked much better than he had three days past. He wore a business suit, stood straight, and looked not at the floor now, but at the chief justice. Though avoiding eye contact.
Chief Justice Gil Hafiz spoke mildly to him. "For the record," he said, "are you Joseph Steven Switzer?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you been given a copy of the indictment?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you read it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you understand the charges?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Do you wish to speak for yourself, or do you want your defender to speak for you?"
"I want my defender to speak for me."
All three judges turned their eyes to Perfeta Stolz. "Counselor," Hafiz said, "how does the accused plead?"
"Your Honor, as Mr. Switzer's counsel, I move that the indictment be set aside. The shooting took place on Luneburger's World, not on Terra. My client was born on Luneburger's World, grew up there, and has Luneburgian citizenship. Also, the military reservation was not Commonwealth property. And per Commonwealth versus Patel, CE 2781/05/17…" She completed the citation, along with the Supreme Court decision. "Therefore, the accused should be remanded to Luneburger's world, and tried there by the appropriate authorities."
The chief justice glanced at the other judges, who sat attentive and impassive, then he leafed through his notes before looking back at Stolz. "As you know, Counselor, the legal term is `full rights of residency,' not citizenship. And your client had applied for and been granted full rights of Terran residency, with the accountability that accompanies it."
Hafiz cocked an eyebrow at Stolz; she knew her plea had no grounds. She was preparing to play to the public, and within minutes of leaving would be speaking to the cameras. In his view it degraded the law, but within broad limits it was her right. If her client agreed, and if he understood what he'd agreed to. Hafiz was tempted to query the accused, but held his peace. He'd do nothing that could be used as a basis for appeal.
Instead he continued to address Stolz. "Furthermore, at the moment of his injury and death, the victim was an employee of the Commonwealth government engaged in his governmental duties. The person who actually shot the victim was also an employee of the Commonwealth government, who at the time of the shooting was engaged in his governmental duties. Thus per Article 12, Section 3, of the Commonwealth Criminal Code, the crime unquestionably comes under Commonwealth jurisdiction. The murderer, a soldier, pleaded guilty as charged, before a court martial. His plea was accepted, and he has begun his sentence. Thus it is now appropriate for this court to try your client for the crime of contributing to murder."
Stolz stood for a long moment as if disappointed-as if the court's decision was unexpected. Then she spoke again. "In that case, Your Honor, I must request a jury trial for my client."
The judges had expected that, too. Jury trials were infrequent on Terra-three-judge panels were the norm-but in certain classes of crimes they could be granted. The chief justice turned to the prosecutor. "What say you to that, Mr. Prosecutor?"
Hafiz knew the answer to that as well. The Office of the President had sent down a policy that, if requested, jury trials would be granted members of the Front for alleged Crimes of the First Category. Basically Hafiz disliked the policy. As a rule, juries came to the same conclusions as a panel of judges would have, while requiring much more time, expense, and turmoil. But he appreciated the government's situation.
The prosecutor grimaced slightly; such a trial would turn into a Peace Front circus. "If the defense wants it so," he grumped, "we will not object."
"Very well, Counselor," Hafiz said. "Your client shall have a jury trial." She had, he knew, a reputation for being very good in jury trials.
She bobbed an almost bow in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Your Honor. Meanwhile, my client will not come to trial for a week or more. Therefore I respectfully request his release on bond."
The prosecutor's exhalation was more hiss than sigh. Obviously she intended to fight over every proposed juror, eating up all the time possible, and providing a magnet for public attention. A Peace Front circus indeed.
The chief justice smiled slightly. "Counselor, your request is denied."
"On what grounds, Your Honor?"
"On the grounds that whatever the outcome of his trial for contributing to the crime of murder, he will still face charges of inciting to mutiny."
Stolz frowned. "Your Honor, I do not see what that has to do with my request. My client has complied with every order, responded to every request, without resistance." She appeared to grope for words, settling for "He is not a violent man. He decries violence, by persons as well as by governments."
"The trial should cast light on that," Hafiz answered wryly. "It is, of course, possible to contribute to the crime of murder without intending that it go that far. We'll see. Meanwhile, your client stands before this court accused of two Crimes of the First Category. In such cases, the court has full discretion with regard to bail. Mr. Switzer has much reason to fear the outcomes of his trials, and there is an entire social class who would willingly undertake to conceal him or help him flee."
Stolz's features had stiffened. "What social class, if you please, Your Honor?"
"Let me answer it this way, Counselor. Who is paying your fees?"
She answered indignantly. "The Peace Front, Your Honor. The party which more than any other decries this war and all violence."
"Exactly." She plays her role well, he thought, for someone who belongs to the Center Party instead of the Front. He'd respect her more, he told himself, if her first allegiance was to the accused. But there was little she could do for him at any rate, and if the Front wanted to use Switzer for propaganda… He hoped, though, that Switzer really understood what was going on.
She wasn't done yet. "Your Honor, I have one more request. A number of journalists have asked to interview my client." She took a small flat case from her pocket and held it out to him. "I told them to put their requests in writing, and that they might have to agree on one or two doing the interviews for all."
The chief justice declined to receive the data chips; they were irrelevant. She took you by surprise on that one, Gil, he told himself. You're slowing down. "Denied again, Counselor," he replied. "If the court granted such privileges to accused felons, activists would commit crimes simply for the pulpit they provided."
"Your Honor," Stolz said unhappily, "except for the jury trial, you have denied every request I've made for my client."
"True. In fact, it seems to me you made those requests anticipating their denial. And I have no doubt you'll make good use of them after you leave this chamber."
He was right, of course. She spent half an hour standing before cameras in the plaza outside, speaking carefully, but airing all her complaints. The court would provide the media with recordings and transcripts of the proceedings, but meanwhile, she'd put her own spin on them.