Mob Lawyer 4 Read online

  Carlo Falacci had been arrested for public intoxication just outside a small bar on 5th Avenue. From there, the charges had been racked up to disorderly conduct, obstruction, and assault on a peace officer. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I was annoyed it had even made it to the point where we stood in front of a judge. Falacci had been given a public defender for the bail hearing, and that lawyer had barely been able to get my client out on bail, but I had a few ideas about how to get rid of the whole case.

  As I walked into the Brooklyn courthouse, I was surprised to catch a glimpse of Alessia walking into the courtroom I was headed to. She was no longer a small-time ADA who handled cases regularly, and I didn’t know why she’d be concerned with a petty alcohol charge. Unlike other boroughs, I didn’t have to worry about some slick scheme as to why she’d show up for a low-level case, but her appearance was still mildly concerning. I wondered if there was something else to the Falacci case that I’d missed. There was only one way to find out.

  I took a deep breath and waited a beat before I followed her inside. My client waited in the gallery and rose when he saw me.

  “Mr. Morgan?” Falacci asked in a deep baritone voice.

  “That’s me,” I confirmed as I checked my watch. “We have a few minutes before we start to discuss your case. I just have a couple questions.”

  “I told that free attorney everything, but I’m guessing he didn’t take good notes.” Falacci frowned as he glanced down at the thin file in my hand.

  “Let’s sit down and discuss it,” I said and motioned toward the defense table.

  We sat down, and I opened the file to the public defender’s notes, which were embarrassingly bare. He had essentially notated my client’s version of events, which included intoxication, an attack, and an arrest. Other than that, it seemed the public defender hadn’t gone to much trouble to work up a defense, file a motion for body cam footage, or pretty much anything that would have helped Falacci get out of this situation.

  “Well, I’m glad he remembered the part where I was drunk,” Falacci muttered.

  “Yes, he did do that,” I agreed under my breath. “But you weren’t under the influence of any narcotics, right?”

  “No way.” My client shook his head vigorously. “I don’t touch the stuff. I had a few too many beers at Paddy’s and called an Uber.”

  “Good,” I murmured. “Do you remember the police encounter?”

  “Yeah, he shoved me against the wall, so I threw an elbow,” Falacci admitted. “I didn’t even know he was a cop until he cuffed me.”

  “So, he didn’t announce himself prior to approaching you?” I clarified.

  “No, and my girlfriend can back me up on that,” he said with a nod to the gallery.

  I glanced over to see a much younger woman with at least five pounds of eyeshadow on each eye and fake lashes that touched her painted-on eyebrows. She looked like either a clown or a prostitute, and I wasn’t impressed with her six-inch acrylic nails as she tapped on the arm of her chair. She would hardly be believable, especially if she had the heavy Jersey Shore accent I could almost hear from behind her thickly-glossed lips. I didn’t particularly want her on the stand, but I’d take what I could get if I had to.

  “Alright, I think we have this under control,” I said in a soft voice. “Just don’t talk unless I tell you to.”

  “You’re the boss,” Falacci replied with a shrug.

  When I turned back around to face the front of the courtroom, I caught a glimpse of Alessia at the prosecution’s table with another young woman in a black pantsuit. She had apparently just noticed my appearance, and she smiled and shook her head as the bailiff walked in and called for us to stand.

  Alessia knew Anthony was my main client, but I hadn’t spoken with her much since I’d started taking on his associates as more clients. She was obviously surprised to see me but not surprised about who I was representing. I figured she was merely relieved I hadn’t used our relationship to leverage any kind of deals with her office, and I didn’t plan on changing that.

  Judge Walker entered the courtroom and sat on the bench before he motioned for everyone else to sit as well. Then he cleared his throat and looked at me with curiosity.

  “Hunter Morgan for the defense, Your Honor,” I declared as I handed the motion of appearance to the bailiff.

  “What happened to Mr., ah, Johnson, I believe?” Walker asked.

  “He was no longer needed,” I answered vaguely. “For the purposes of ensuring my client gets a reasonable defense, I’ll be taking over Mr. Falacci’s case from here.”

  “Very well.” Walker nodded and turned to the prosecution. “Is everything in order for the state?”

  “Actually, Your Honor, with the defense’s new motion, I will need to recuse myself due to conflict of interest,” Alessia answered. “ADA Rosa Velez has been my second chair for this case, so she will take over if it pleases the court.”

  “Fine by me,” the judge replied before he turned back to me. “Has the defendant’s not guilty plea been changed?”

  “No, Your Honor,” I said with confidence. “But I would like to file a motion to dismiss all charges on the grounds of lack of evidence.”

  “Your Honor, we have the officer’s body cam footage that shows the defendant clearly was intoxicated and became combative upon his arrest,” Velez shot back as she stood up and glared at me. “Mr. Falacci is a violent man who gave an NYPD officer a wound that required four stitches.”

  “No, Mr. Falacci is a citizen who was grabbed from behind by a stranger and threw a single elbow to defend himself,” I argued before I looked back to the judge. “He was waiting for his Uber home after a night at the bar. There’s nothing criminal about that.”

  “Save the dramatics for the jury, Mr. Morgan,” Walker said with a grimace. “I assume you’re ready to choose them.”

  “I will be if necessary,” I said as I pulled another paper from my briefcase. “First, I’d like to request copies of all the medical documents from my client’s testing for narcotics at the hospital. I’m assuming the prosecution asked for a copy, but I’m afraid the file I have from Mr. Johnson is incomplete.”

  The bailiff took my motion and handed it to the judge who slipped on a pair of glasses as he read it over.

  “Seems reasonable,” he remarked. “Ms. Velez, please provide the documents to the defense.”

  “We can’t, Your Honor,” the ADA grumbled. “We don’t have them.”

  “Are you saying my client wasn’t tested for illegal drugs after being arrested for a public intoxication?” I asked with feigned surprise. “New York law clearly states alcohol intoxication does not constitute an arrest.”

  “Once the defendant became combative, he was immediately taken to booking,” Velez said. “It was for the safety of our officer.”

  “And what about the rights of the defendant?” I pressed.

  “I’m inclined to agree with the defense on this, Counselor,” Walker mused. “If the officer suspected the defendant of using illegal drugs, he has to test for them once the suspect is in custody. I will grant the motion to dismiss the public intoxication charge.”

  “Your Honor--” Velez started.

  “I know you’re new to my courtroom, Counselor, but I do not tolerate speaking out of turn,” the judge admonished her. “Now, Mr. Morgan, do you have anything else to file with the court?”

  “I’d also like to file a motion of discovery,” I continued. “ADA Velez mentioned the body cam footage they have, but no one has provided this footage to the defense.”

  “Mr. Johnson had yet to file for it,” Velez spat out. “We have not withheld the footage from you.”

  “I never said you did, Ms. Velez,” I chuckled. “I merely stated it has yet to be provided, and I will need it to provide an accurate defense for my client as we also have a witness who is prepared to testify that the officer did not announce himself before approaching Mr. Falacci.”

  “Oh, come
on!” she snapped. “He was in full uniform!”

  “As he approached from behind,” I reminded her. “That hardly constitutes the officer’s obligation to make himself known.”

  “Ms. Velez, do you have a copy of the footage available for the defense?” the judge cut off her reply.

  “We can make a copy at our office for Mr. Morgan,” the ADA muttered.

  “Fantastic,” the judge replied with sarcasm. “Is there anything else?”

  “Not unless the prosecution has any other evidence they’re withholding until I file a motion to discover it,” I said with a shrug.

  “We’ll copy our entire file, Mr. Morgan,” Velez sneered.

  “Sounds great!” I grinned and turned back to the judge to wait for my next move.

  “Mr. Morgan, you look as though you have something else,” the judge sighed.

  “I’d like to readdress the dismissal,” I said carefully. “If the state can’t prove Mr. Falacci should have been arrested for public intoxication, don’t the rest of the charges fall under the fruit of the poisonous tree?”

  “That’s a stretch,” Velez retorted.

  “Last warning, Ms. Velez,” Walker warned her before he templed his fingers and stared at me. “I wouldn’t call it a stretch, but I’m not yet convinced dismissing the other charges is appropriate. I’m going to continue this until you have reviewed the rest of the state’s evidence. My clerk will give you both the next date.”

  With that, Walker tapped his gavel on the desk, and the bailiff motioned for us all to rise again.

  “Not a bad start, Mr. Morgan,” Falacci said as we waited for the judge to leave. “Tony said you were good.”

  “We’ll see how good when I get to watch that body cam,” I muttered. “If he didn’t declare himself, it’ll be cake, so let’s just hope you weren’t too drunk to hear him.”

  “Nah, Sofia was sober,” he said and nodded to his cake-faced girlfriend. “She didn’t hear him say anything. Just ran up behind me on the sidewalk and grabbed me.”

  “Alright.” I nodded. “Let’s go get the date, and I’ll handle the evidence.”

  Once we had the information for the next hearing, I gathered the rest of my papers and made my way to the door. The gallery wasn’t as full for this hearing as it had been for Lombardi’s, and thankfully, no cluster of reporters awaited me in the hall.

  Instead, a tall, gorgeous attorney did. She pursed her lips as she looked me up and down before she smiled and held out her hand for a very platonic handshake.

  “Clever,” Alessia purred once the door shut behind me. “None of the ADAs even looked for the proof of drug use.”

  “Hey, if he’s innocent, he’s innocent,” I chuckled. “What are you doing with this little case anyway?”

  “Oh, I’ve made a point to be involved with any cases involving violence on our officers,” she replied. “Plus, Velez is new, and I didn’t want her handling it on her own. I didn’t realize Falacci was one of your clients.”

  “I didn’t either until this morning.” I smirked. “Defense attorney life is always exciting. How’s the DA work going?”

  “Great!” Alessia’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I cleaned house a bit, and now, I have a solid team of like-minded people. No more Jordan or Webber or Flores lovers in my house. I don’t have to worry about anyone making deals behind my back, and everyone knows if anyone even considers it, they get canned. I’m building a reputation as a hard-ass, but it’s okay. I’d rather have that reputation than the no-balls one that Jordan left behind. I have higher expectations from my people than he did.”

  “That’s good to hear,” I said with a grin. “I know you might not be able to tell me, but are you pressing charges on Chatel?”

  “As much as I’d like to, I can’t,” she sighed. “The state attorney took that one. Well, unless the feds poach it.”

  “You think they will?” I asked in surprise.

  “They could.” Alessia shrugged. “He has documented international ties and ran for office, so they might consider terrorism or racketeering. It’s all being unraveled right now.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered as I recalled the federal agents in the alley a few days ago. “Do you think they’re looking at it?”

  “The feds?” She pursed her lips in thought. “I mean, they’ve come around the office a few times asking questions. They mostly wanted to interview the staff I let go, but they’ve looked at a few case files, too. I’m not sure what exactly they’re looking for in the files, though. It’s not like Chatel actually tried any cases since he started working on estates. Maybe they’re looking at Jordan’s work, too, but I can’t be sure. I know they haven’t checked out anything we’ve done since I took over.”

  “Do you know how many cases they’ve looked at?” I pressed.

  “Dozens of them,” she replied. “I couldn’t tell you which ones, except that they aren’t mine because most of mine are still open or are being filed with our corrections and parole people. The files they’re looking at are being kept in one of the conference rooms and carted in and out themselves. They don’t want us to go anywhere near what they’re working on.”

  “But they haven’t said anything to you?” I was surprised they were keeping her in the dark.

  It seemed the agents I’d spoken to were sure Alessia was clean, but they didn’t let her in the loop. I felt like I’d gotten more information from them when they accosted me than she had received in a legitimate elected position. I contemplated telling her about my experience with the feds but decided against it. If I told her why I didn’t tell them anything, I’d have to talk about Anthony, the hacker, and all the other stuff I’d avoided telling her during the election, and I wasn’t any more inclined to tell her now.

  Alessia was solid, but I wouldn’t put her in a position to decide between keeping my client’s secret and doing her job as DA. It wasn’t fair to her, and it was too big a risk for my client. It was better to pretend like I was completely in the dark as well. Besides, sometimes it felt like I wasn’t much further out of the dark than she was. I still wasn’t sure how the investigation would lead to the root of the corruption issues, but it wouldn’t help anyone to share with Alessia now.

  “Nothing more than asking me where the files were and everyone’s names,” Alessia answered then narrowed her eyes on me. “You sure have a lot of questions about the feds.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s interesting,” I said with a disinterested shrug. “Well, I thought it would be, but it sounds like they’re kind of boring.”

  “More annoying than anything else,” she agreed with a laugh before she checked her watch. “Damn, I have to go. I have a meeting with a city councilman. Let’s have dinner sometime soon, okay?”

  “I’ll text you,” I said as she waved and rushed toward the door.

  I chuckled to myself and pulled out my phone as I walked at a slower pace behind her. This was my last case for the day, and I needed some time to relax. I called Liz and waited for her to pick up. She’d filed a motion to exclude witness testimony in a drug case in Queens, but I hadn’t heard back about how it went yet.

  “You’ve reached Elizabeth Bennett…” I hung up without leaving a message.

  She’d call me back once she was done with court, and I could wait in my car until I heard back from her.

  I’d barely gotten a soft rock playlist started when my phone rang.

  “Hey, sorry I missed you,” Liz’s voice rang out over my car speakers. “I just walked outside. Dinner?”

  “Please,” I laughed. “Do you want me to come get you?”

  “No, let’s just order some takeout at your place,” she said. “I’ll take a taxi over there. Maybe some of that Chinese we had before? Do you remember?”

  “Oh, yeah, it’s the only place I order from,” I chuckled. “I’ll get you some of that Kung Pao chicken.”

  “And rice, oh, my God, that sounds so good,” she crooned. “I’m already getting in the cab
. I’ll see you soon.”

  I laughed as we hung up and pulled up the Chinese restaurant’s menu online. Most places let you order online now, but this one was traditional, and you could only call your order in for delivery or pick up. Since I was definitely looking forward to getting out of my suit, I decided delivery would be better and would still get to my apartment before Liz made it in from Queens.

  I called the restaurant and ordered her chicken and rice, my beef egg foo young, and some fried dumplings. I added some last-minute egg rolls and fountain drinks before I hung up with them as I pulled into my parking garage and hopped out of the car to head upstairs.

  “Evening, Mr. Morgan,” Sulla greeted me from the front door.

  The large Ugandan man spoke with the melodic accent of his home country as he offered a wide smile and opened the door.

  “How’s it going, Sulla?” I replied with a grin. “Your self-defense classes going well?”

  “I very much enjoy them,” he replied with a nod. “I’m not quite to your skill level yet, though.”

  “It takes time, my friend,” I chuckled. “You’ll get there soon enough.”

  I stepped onto the elevator and rode to my fifth-floor apartment next to a woman with a screaming child and a baby that smelled like a combination of several bodily fluids. I resisted the urge to pinch my nose shut as I offered a sympathetic smile to the overwhelmed mother.

  I didn’t have kids yet, but I remembered seeing that same look on my mom’s face several times when I was a kid. It was the look that said she was totally done with the day and just wanted to get home to her pajamas and maybe a husband that could take over kid-watching duties for a while. She looked exhausted, which was exactly why I was childless and intended to remain that way for the foreseeable future.

  When the doors opened to my floor, I hurried out and thanked my lucky stars she wasn’t coming this way.