Last dance, p.1
Last Dance, page 1
Novels By Sheldon Siegel
Mike Daley/Rosie Fernandez Novels
Special Circumstances
Incriminating Evidence
Criminal Intent
Final Verdict
The Confession
Judgment Day
Perfect Alibi
Felony Murder Rule
Serve and Protect
Hot Shot
The Dreamer
Final Out
Last Call
Double Jeopardy
Dead Coin
Last Dance
David Gold/A.C. Battle Novels
The Terrorist Next Door
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Sheldon M. Siegel, Inc.
Copyright © 2024 Sheldon M. Siegel, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Cover Design by Linda Siegel
ISBN: 978-1-952612-18-3 E-Book
ISBN: 978-1-952612-19-0 Paperback
ISBN: 978-1-952612-20-6 Hardcover
In loving memory of Erica and Rabbi Neil Brief.
“Every San Francisco block is a short story,
and each of its hills a novel.”
— William Saroyan
Contents
1. “I DISTRACTED HIM”
2. “I OWE HIM ONE”
3. “I ALWAYS HAVE TIME FOR YOU”
4. “I DIDN’T DO IT”
5. “RIGHT HERE”
6. “HE WAS VERY PROFESSIONAL”
7. “HOW DO YOU WISH TO PLEAD?”
8. “YOU’LL NEVER MAKE MURDER”
9. “READ MY REPORT”
10. “SHE HAD NO CHANCE”
11. “SHE WAS A NICE PERSON”
12. “IT ISN’T ILLEGAL”
13. “SHE WAS AFRAID OF HIM”
14. “IT DIDN’T WORK OUT”
15. “YOU’RE UP LATE”
16. “IT’S THE NEXT BIG THING”
17. “WE HAVE AN UNDERSTANDING”
18. “I WAS WORKING”
19. “WHAT WAS HE THINKING?”
20. “THE FRANCHISE”
21. “AREN’T YOU GETTING A LITTLE OLD FOR THIS?”
22. “THINGS WILL LOOK BETTER IN THE MORNING”
23. “INDEED I AM”
24. “YOU NEED TO GET ME OUT OF HERE”
25. CLIVE
26. “IS THERE ANY POSSIBILITY THAT WE CAN RESOLVE THIS?”
27. “HE’S A FUNDAMENTALLY DECENT MAN”
28. “I CAN’T TALK”
29. “FROM TIME TO TIME”
30. “I HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO SAY”
31. “I’VE TOLD YOU EVERYTHING THAT I KNOW”
32. “I HOPE I CAN COUNT ON YOUR VOTE”
33. “YOU’RE SITTING IN EDUARDO’S SEAT”
34. “IT ISN’T ENOUGH”
35. “TRY HARDER”
36. “NO WAY”
37. “I’LL BE THERE”
38. “IT ISN’T LOOKING GOOD”
39. “A PRELIM IS DIFFERENT FROM A TRIAL”
40. “I WAS WALKING MY DOG”
41. “MASSIVE BLOOD LOSS”
42. “AN ALMOST PERFECT MATCH”
43. “THEY WERE ARGUING”
44. “SHE DIDN’T LIKE THE WAY THAT HE LOOKED AT HER”
45. “IT’S THE ONLY LOGICAL EXPLANATION”
46. “YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING”
47. “A MASSIVE AMOUNT OF BLOOD”
48. “FINGERPRINTS”
49. “THEY HAD A CONVERSATION”
50. “SHE WAS AFRAID OF HIM”
51. “THE KIND YOU CAN’T BUY AT CVS”
52. “IT WAS A PRIVATE BUSINESS ARRANGEMENT”
53. “WE WERE BOTH ADULTS”
54. “I PLAY FOR THE GIANTS”
55. “I MISS EDSEL”
56. “STICK TO THE PLAN”
57. “THE EVIDENCE IS OVERWHELMING”
58. “WE’RE GOING TO TRIAL”
59. “I WANT TO FILE A POLICE REPORT”
60. “IT WAS A MATCH”
61. “WE GOT THE RIGHT RESULT”
62. “NOW WE’RE EVEN”
63. “THE SYSTEM ISN’T PERFECT”
A Note to the Reader
Acknowledgements
Excerpt from FIRST TRIAL
About the Author
Also By Sheldon Siegel
1
“I DISTRACTED HIM”
The Honorable Robert J. Stumpf Jr. flashed a wry grin and invoked a commanding baritone. “I didn’t expect to see the co-head of the Felony Division of the Public Defender’s Office at a preliminary hearing on a traffic case, Mr. Daley.”
I returned his smile. “One of my associates is on vacation, Your Honor. I didn’t expect to see the Presiding Judge of the San Francisco Superior Court this morning, either.”
“One of my colleagues was called away on an emergency.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
“The situation has been resolved.”
“Good to hear.”
It was ten AM on Monday, May eighth, 2023. I had first appeared before Bob Stumpf when I was a rookie Public Defender shortly after he was promoted to Presiding Judge. Thirty years later, I’m still representing criminals, and Bob is still running Department Twelve on the first floor of our decaying Hall of Justice, which was condemned because of earthquake safety issues, asbestos-laden walls, faulty plumbing, and an overwhelmed electrical system. The courts and SFPD’s Homicide Detail are still here, but the District Attorney, the Public Defender, the Southern Police Station, and the Medical Examiner have moved to buildings with functional bathrooms. The old jail on the sixth and seventh floors was replaced by a newer building next door, and the cafeteria in the basement is now used for storage.
Judge Stumpf was appointed to the bench by Governor Jerry Brown during his first term. The native of Southern Indiana and onetime backup center on the USF basketball team was a thoughtful jurist with a keen legal mind and an incisive wit that turned acerbic if you weren’t prepared. At seventy-five, he showed no signs of slowing down, and he still ran the grueling Dipsea Race from Mill Valley to Stinson Beach every year.
He looked at the prosecution table. “Good morning, Mr. Paolini.”
The young ADA sprang to his feet and spoke too loudly in an ingratiating voice. “Good morning, Your Honor.”
Ernie Paolini was a third-generation native of the City. His great-grandfather, Luigi, immigrated from Palermo and opened a deli in North Beach. Seven of Luigi’s eight sons became police officers. The black sheep was a firefighter. The following generation included a judge, two ADAs, a union organizer, and a member of the Board of Supervisors. Ernie’s parents moved to a house in the foggy Sunset District, a few blocks from where I grew up. He attended St. Ignatius High School (also my alma mater), USF, and USF Law School. He’s been a baby ADA for about nine months. He’s a nice kid who will probably be a competent prosecutor when he grows up.
Judge Stumpf nodded at his bailiff. “Please call our case.”
“The People versus Javier Morales. Preliminary hearing.”
Paolini was still standing. “The defendant is guilty of violating California Vehicle Code Section 23105.”
In English, this means that he’s charged my client with felony reckless driving.
Showtime. “Your Honor, I would remind Mr. Paolini that Mr. Morales is innocent until proven guilty. It is therefore presumptuous and legally incorrect to state that he is guilty.”
“Duly noted, Mr. Daley.” Judge Stumpf glanced at the gallery, which was half-full of ADAs, Deputy PDs, and a handful of private defense lawyers waiting for a few moments of assembly-line justice. They were joined by our regular contingent of courtroom junkies, homeless people, law students, and other hangers-on who passed the time watching the wheels of justice grind ever-so-slowly in San Francisco’s crumbling bazaar of criminal law.
Judge Stumpf inhaled the eighty-five-degree air that smelled of mildew. “The purpose of a preliminary hearing is to determine whether there is a reasonable basis to conclude that the defendant committed the crime for which he is charged. The prosecution is not required to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt as it would at trial. By law, I am obliged to evaluate the evidence and give the benefit of the doubt to the DA. The defense may call witnesses and present evidence, but it is not required to do so. Everybody understands why we are here?”
Paolini and I responded in unison. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Please proceed with your presentation, Mr. Paolini.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. We will be brief.”
We’ll see. And for future reference, it’s okay for the judge to invoke the “royal we.” It isn’t a good look for a rookie ADA.
I gave a reassuring nod to the nervous young man sitting next to me at the defense table. Javier Morales was a slender man of twenty. In his ill-fitting navy suit, he could have passed for a sophomore in high school. The graduate of Mission High worked at his uncle’s produce market on Twenty-fourth Street. He had no criminal record, although he was picked up for shoplifting once, and he had two speeding tickets.
&n bsp; Paolini buttoned his charcoal Men’s Wearhouse suit jacket, walked to the lectern, and placed his laptop in front of him. “Your Honor, the facts of this case are not in dispute.”
Come on. “With respect to Mr. Paolini, we dispute his contention that the facts are not in dispute.”
“Noted, Mr. Daley. Please continue, Mr. Paolini.”
“On Monday, May first, at seven-seventeen in the evening, the defendant was driving his 2013 Honda Civic northbound on Mission Street between Twenty-fifth and Twenty-fourth. The defendant suddenly accelerated, lost control of his vehicle, and slammed into an Amazon delivery van parked in front of La Taqueria.”
“I’ve eaten there on several occasions,” the judge said.
So have I. The no-frills Mission District classic has been serving award-winning burritos since 1973. The overstuffed carnitas burrito was once voted the best in the U.S.
Paolini introduced the police reports and a dozen photos into evidence, then he scrunched his face into a melodramatic frown. “The defendant’s recklessness resulted in ten thousand dollars’ worth of damage to the Amazon truck. The defendant’s car was totaled. The driver of the truck briefly lost consciousness. Fortunately, he did not sustain life-threatening injuries.”
“Good to hear,” the judge observed.
Paolini surmised that it was a good idea to agree with him. “Indeed.”
Indeed. “Your Honor,” I said, “as noted in the police reports and in our papers, the driver acknowledged that he may have lost consciousness because he had taken a large amount of over-the-counter cold medicine. It is therefore likely that my client’s actions did not cause him to lose consciousness. Moreover, my client and Amazon are fully insured, and the costs are being worked out between their respective carriers. Neither Amazon nor my client will incur any out-of-pocket expenses except for modest deductibles.”
“Good to hear, Mr. Daley. Anything else, Mr. Paolini?”
“Based upon the police reports, photos, and eyewitness accounts, there is sufficient evidence that the defendant committed the crime for which he is charged. As a result, he should be bound over for trial.” He closed his laptop and returned to the prosecution table.
The judge turned my way. “Does your client dispute anything that Mr. Paolini just said?”
Not really. “There are extenuating circumstances, Your Honor.”
“That seems to be the case whenever you appear in my courtroom, Mr. Daley. Do you wish to present any evidence or witnesses to support your assertion?”
“I do.” I glanced at the anxious young woman sitting next to her mother in the front row of the gallery. “The defense calls Ms. Anita Gutierrez.”
She looked at her mother, whose expression combined maternal support and profound irritation. Anita adjusted the lapel of her gray jacket and walked tentatively to the front of the courtroom, where the bailiff swore her in. Per my request, she had dressed conservatively and wore no makeup. She took her seat in the box, gulped two cups of water, and looked up at me.
“Good morning, Ms. Gutierrez,” I said.
“Good morning, Mr. Daley.”
“May I ask how old you are?”
“Nineteen.”
“Are you employed?”
“I work part-time at my parents’ restaurant in the Mission. I am a freshman at City College.”
“What are you studying?”
“Nursing.”
“Good for you.” I had instructed Anita to follow my lead and keep her answers short. I asked the judge for permission to approach the box, which he granted. “Ms. Gutierrez, do you know the defendant, Mr. Morales?”
“Yes. We have known each other since we were in kindergarten at St. Peter’s.”
It’s the school in the century-old Catholic Church in the Mission where my parents were baptized and later married.
“He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?” I asked.
An overanxious Paolini jumped to his feet. “Objection. Mr. Daley is leading the witness.”
Yes, I am. “I’ll rephrase. Is Javier your boyfriend?”
“Yes. We’ve been together for almost two years.”
Paolini was still standing. “Your Honor, I fail to see the relevance.”
I invoked a patient tone. “I’m getting there, Your Honor.”
“Quickly, Mr. Daley.”
I moved a little closer to Anita. “You were with Javier on Monday, May first, when his car accidentally collided with an Amazon truck?”
The hyperactive Paolini was up again. “Objection to the use of the term ‘accidentally.’”
“I’ll rephrase,” I said. “You were in the car when it collided with the Amazon truck?”
“Yes. I was in the passenger seat.”
“Were you or Javier hurt?”
“Thankfully, no.”
“Was Javier driving fast?”
“No. He was going the speed limit.”
“Were you concerned about your safety?”
She glanced at her boyfriend. “No. Javier is very careful.”
“In your opinion, was he driving recklessly?”
“Absolutely not.”
Just the way we rehearsed it. “But he did, in fact, run into the Amazon truck, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t his fault.”
“Could you please explain?”
Anita looked at her mother. She took a sip of water. She glanced at Javier. She cleared her throat. “I distracted him.” She added, “I didn’t mean to.”
“How did you distract him?”
Another glance at her mother. “We were joking around, and I, uh, accidentally touched him in a sensitive place.”
I suspect that it wasn’t entirely accidental, but I had assured Anita that I wouldn’t ask her to provide details. “Could you please describe what happened next?”
“Javier was startled. He inadvertently hit the accelerator, and we ran into the Amazon truck. It happened very fast.”
“Did he do it on purpose?”
“Of course not. It was an accident.” She looked over at Javier, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It wasn’t his fault. Javier didn’t mean to hit the truck. If anything, it was my fault.”
I trust that Javier appreciates the fact that you are a wonderful girlfriend. “Thank you, Ms. Gutierrez. No further questions.”
“Cross-exam, Mr. Paolini?”
The young ADA correctly decided that it would not enhance his case by going after a nineteen-year-old who was crying. “Nothing for this witness, Your Honor.”
Good call, Ernie.
The judge looked my way. “Any additional witnesses, Mr. Daley?”
“No, Your Honor. I would, however, like to make a motion to have the charges dismissed as a matter of law.”
“On what grounds?”
Here goes. “It is a violation of Section 23105 of the Vehicle Code if you drive recklessly and cause great bodily injury, which includes a loss of consciousness. However, as we previously noted, it is likely that my client’s actions did not cause the driver of the Amazon truck to lose consciousness. In addition, Section 23103 of the Vehicle Code defines reckless driving as a ‘willful or wanton disregard for the safety of other people or property.’” I shot a disdainful glance at Paolini. “Based on Ms. Gutierrez’s testimony, Javier did not act willfully or with wanton disregard for the safety of other people or property. He was startled and inadvertently depressed the accelerator. The result was unfortunate, but it was also an accident. As a result, he did not violate the statute, and the charges should be dismissed.”
Paolini pogoed to his feet. “He rear-ended a truck, Your Honor. It was only through the grace of God that nobody was seriously injured.”
That much is probably true. It’s also bad form to whine. “It doesn’t rise to the level of reckless driving.”
Judge Stumpf rested his chin in his palm and listened as Paolini and I volleyed back and forth. Finally, he spoke with measured authority. “Gentlemen, I find both of your arguments to be well-researched and thoughtful. In the spirit of justice and cooperation, I would like to think that we can resolve this matter without taking the time and resources to empanel a jury and go to trial.”
That’s my cue. “I have a suggestion for what I believe would be a fair resolution of this matter, Your Honor.” I would never think of suggesting anything that isn’t fair.
“I’m listening, Mr. Daley. So is Mr. Paolini.”
