States of Grace by Mandy Miller (great novels of all time .TXT) 📗

box is a long shot, but Zoe’s age and condition are the only things I have going for me. I’m rusty. Or maybe it’s that I have no idea what I’m doing over here on this side of the courtroom. After all, I am a rookie at this game. As a prosecutor, I had a script. Now I have to make everything up from whole cloth, and make the fabrication ring true.

“Respectfully, may we approach the bench?” I ask, trying not to sound overly solicitous, a dead giveaway for weakness.

“Judge, I don’t think—”

“Mr. Hightower, you can tell me whatever is on your mind right up here in front of the bench. I don’t bite.”

The judge’s remark elicits a nervous chuckle from the gallery, but his mordant stare shuts the hilarity down just as fast.

Tight-lipped, we march up to the bench, and wait in silence until the court reporter has shimmied herself and her contraption over to record our sidebar. A few spectators crane their necks to watch the impending brouhaha. Others use the interruption in the proceedings to take a cat nap.

“Ms. Locke, please proceed. We don’t have all day.”

“Your Honor, my client was detained in a locked psychiatric ward on a Baker Act hold because she was found to be a danger to herself. And that’s what the State is asserting violates her bail.”

“And others,” Hightower says.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hightower?”

“She’s a danger to others too, Your Honor.”

“That’s enough, Mr. Hightower, you’ll have your turn.” Twietmeyer flips to me. “Ms. Locke?”

“The very fact that Ms. Slim was Baker Acted is protected health information and, as such, is subject to the confidentiality protections of HIPAA, the Health Insurance—”

Twietmeyer groans. “Yes, counsel, I know what HIPAA is. Please do us all the favor of getting to the point, if you have one.”

“Judge, I am objecting to any of this hearing being held in open court. My esteemed colleague here,” I say, staring daggers at Hightower before continuing. “My colleague, ASA Hightower, served me with a motion to revoke my client’s bail in the early hours of this morning. Or, his lackey did. A Mr. Stein-something. I’m sorry, the signature on the motion was illegible.”

“Ms. Locke, I can do without the witty sarcasm. It’ll do your client no good in my courtroom. I find it disrespectful which, I assume, is not the tone you are going for, correct?”

I attempt to look chastened. “I apologize, Your Honor. Anyway, had I been given the opportunity, I would have made a written motion to seal this hearing, but given the eleventh-hour tactics, that was not possible. Therefore, I am making my motion ore tenus,” I say, pleased with myself for remembering the Latin for “orally.”

Twietmeyer stirs the air with his index finger to tell me to get a move on.

“The fact that my client is hospitalized must be kept private, unless she agrees to its disclosure. And she does not. Furthermore, I have not made any motion that would place my client’s health or mental health at issue, so I submit to you that this court is obligated to close this proceeding to the public as a matter of law.”

Twietmeyer purses his lips, processing what I just said which, I have to admit, was somewhat coherent, although I still feel like I’m way out of my depth.

I’ve known since the moment I met her that I’d have to have Zoe evaluated both for competency to stand trial and, perhaps, for an insanity defense, but that would mean putting all the sorry details of her suicide attempt and entire psychological history at issue, meaning that all related proceedings would be heard in open court. Not good. At least not before I’m prepared to use it to my advantage. All I want now is a confidential evaluation from a private psychiatrist for leverage to keep her out of the death chamber. Thing is, she did go and try kill herself. So, here we are, with what I want to avoid happening right in front of me—a broadcast to the potential jury pool that Zoe is a danger not only herself, but to others, like Sinclair.

“I cannot surmise what evidence the State might bring before the court today that wouldn’t breach my client’s privacy rights under Florida law. And not only Florida law, Judge, but Federal law,” I say, letting the word “Federal” ring in Twietmeyer’s state court ears.

Twietmeyer tents an eyebrow. “Mr. Hightower, is that correct?”

“Is what correct?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Mr. Hightower. What is the nature of the evidence that you intend to bring before the Court, and does it relate to Ms. Slim’s medical or psychiatric condition? From where I sit, Ms. Locke has not put her client’s mental state into issue.” He casts a doubtful look in Zoe’s direction. “Not yet, anyway.”

Hightower rushes back to the lectern and pulls a stapled report from his file like a rabbit out of a hat.

“Judge, I have a psychological evaluation confirming the defendant as mentally ill, and that she is a danger to herself.”

“Again, objection. On the same grounds. Judge, all of this is a bold-faced attempt to prejudice the jury pool with information that is not only protected by Federal law, a body of law over which, with all due respect, this Court has no jurisdiction. His evidence,” I say, using my fingers to put the word “evidence” in air quotes, “is not only private and protected, but also hearsay, because the author of the report is not here in this courtroom to be cross-examined.”

I’m way beyond winging it now. I have no earthly idea if the last statement is even true, but there’s no one in the courtroom who looks like a shrink, although some of the ones I’ve seen look as unhinged as their patients.

Twietmeyer presses both palms down in front of him as if he’s trying to keep the bench from flying away. “Mr. Hightower, this is, indeed, a highly unusual situation. Most motions to revoke a defendant’s bail do not involve such