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

“You’ll help?”

“You had me at underdog.” He drops his feet to the floor and leans in. “And you know this, how? The thing about Sinclair being involved?”

“I ran Sinclair through the Clerk’s computer, and nothing. Not a party to, or a witness on any case, not even a freakin’ traffic ticket.”

Josh shrugs. “It’s always the ones with no history who do the worst shit.”

“True, but starting with the assumption that he was involved in a case somehow, which I have on good authority—”

“Get to your point, will you?”

“Bottom line, the State Attorney has no records either, which means either my information was wrong and there was no case, which I doubt, or he had a case that was expunged. If it were just sealed, the State would still have the records, but they don’t.”

His eyes light up as if someone’s just turned on their power source. “Seems as if you still have at least one friend over at the conviction factory, former ASA Locke.”

“Maybe. Well…anyway…” I study the ceiling, searching for a way to frame my favor.

“Your point? Please.”

“Since your office represents ninety-nine percent of everyone arrested…”

Taking full advantage of my pause, Jacobs points at me. “Yes, and me,” I say with a sigh. “Since your people are in magistrate court for every first appearance hearing, you get the complete docket every day and log every possible defendant’s name in case they need counsel later.”

He bats his eyelashes. “And you want to know if your guy’s name is in our database.”

“Exactly.”

He shifts in his chair. “Let me put this another way, maybe a way that would make me feel more comfortable? The State, your former employer and now archenemy, may not have given you all the goods on Sinclair, correct?”

“Maybe not.”

He wheels around to the credenza behind him and punches at a keyboard, screeds of names appearing on the screen. “Which is why you came to me, given my fondness for poleaxing the State.”

I stick my tongue in my cheek. “Is that so? I’d never have guessed.”

“Humor me a little so I can get even more comfortable with this whole, I won’t say, conspiracy, but what shall we call it? Let’s just call it an evil little plan, shall we?” Jacobs rubs his hands together. “Would you agree that, if we have anything in our database about Sinclair, it wouldn’t be a violation of attorney-client privilege for me to share? After all, he wasn’t actually our client. He never signed an engagement letter.”

I jump on board. “And court dockets are public records, after all.”

He swivels around. “Brilliant point!” He turns back and motions to the screen. “I think I have something for you.”

I walk to his side of the desk and look over his shoulder.

“Brandon Sinclair, DOB 4/23/1974, arrested December 2, 2008, one count of Trafficking in oxycodone, seven to fourteen grams.”

I am rendered speechless. That’s what Marcus meant! The wild blue yonder. Sea of blue. Marcus meant blues, slang for oxycodone—OxyContin’s generic name.

“You ever watch late night TV, former ASA Locke? When some Benihana type is trying to sell you Ginsu knives you don’t need?”

“If I had a dime for every late-night commercial I’ve seen when I can’t sleep, I wouldn’t be defending criminals to scrape out a living.”

Josh flaps his hands. “And what is it they say when they keep adding more crap to the deal for nineteen ninety-nine?”

“And that’s not all folks?”

“Correcto mundo. Add this little nugget to what I just told you. Brandon Sinclair, DOB 4/23/1974, arrested May 25, 2009. Any guess on the charges?” His smile widens, revealing coffee-stained teeth.

“More drugs?”

“You get the prize. Yes! Trafficking in oxycodone, but this time the quantity was greater, twenty-five to one hundred grams.

“No way,” I say, my mind racing. “Meaning he was facing some major prison time.”

“No way that amount could have been for personal use. That amount of blues would kill an elephant. And, as you know, having put away a dealer or two yourself, that amount will send you up the river for a minimum of fifteen years. So, unless your victim was a superhuman addict, I’d say he was a dealer. Says here, the second case was filed by Statewide.”

He clasps his hands behind his head and leans back in his chair. “Any of that make sense to you?”

“Sinclair was popped in a task force drug sting.”

“I’d say you have pulled back the curtain on the great State of Oz,” Jacobs says. “Cases come, only to go bye-bye when a rat is willing to help the cops catch the bigger fish.”

“So says the wizard, otherwise the whole system would come to a grinding halt.”

“And then where would we be? Fewer people convicted. Fewer going to private prisons. Fewer dollars going into reelection campaigns so those same elected officials can allocate more tax dollars for more prisons.”

“And I thought I was cynical.”

He shrugs. “The truth is the truth, Grace, no matter how you spin it.”

“Sinclair flipped.”

“Would explain why his case evaporated, why he has no record in the database. It would’ve kept him out of prison.”

“And employed.”

“That too.” Josh gives me a lopsided grin.

I bury my face in my hands. “Thank you, Josh. Thank you so much.”

“But remember, my friend, you aren’t in Kansas anymore.”

I drop my hands. “Meaning?”

“Think about it, Dorothy. Doing the right thing by old man Vicanti cost you dearly. And now you find yourself in the same position again. Standing up to the almighty State’s version of things, which is that these arrests don’t exist, is not without risk.” He takes a deep breath. “Sometimes it’s not so easy speaking truth to power, even if it is the truth and the life on the line is a kid’s.”

I exhale hard. “Why is it I always have to do things the hard way?”

“You and me both, sister. You and me both.”

The printer starts to hum. “Here. Take these. There may be something in them that will help. Our people scan all of the police reports into our database after magistrate court every day.