masculinity few people would have guessed he was gay. But he was gay, uncloseted, and comfortable in his skin.
I knew Marc from meetings of the gay and lesbian lawyers association where he flirted with me relentlessly. Not that I was special in that regard— he flirted with any attractive gay man who crossed his path. He saw me and smiled his charming, crooked smile. He was, as always, elegantly turned out in a bespoke suit, his handsome face smooth and glowing as if he’d just been shaved by his own personal barber who had also clipped and styled his hair to camera-ready, movie star perfection.
“Marc?” I queried, approaching him. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Henry,” he said, shaking my hand. “You represent one of the defendants?”
I shook my head. “I’m standing in for Mitch Prynne. He’s in trial. You didn’t answer my question.”
He smiled sunnily. “Just observing.”
That was, as we both knew, a lie. Marc was far too busy and was too much of a big shot to waste a morning observing a pretrial motion in a misdemeanor prosecution in a trailer courtroom on the far end of town from his posh office in City Hall East.
“Bullshit,” I said.
Still smiling, he leered and rumbled, “You kiss with that mouth?”
When it was clear that was all I was going to get from him, I headed back to the counsel table and asked the same question of Ellen Lefkowitz, a tough, smart defense lawyer representing the lead defendant Woods.
“I don’t know,” she said, “but something’s up. I saw him out in the parking lot arguing with the DA. Don’t worry, I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
At that moment, the bailiff stood up and said, “All rise. Department 5 of the Santa Monica Superior Court is now in session, the Honorable Pauline Masanque-Brown presiding.”
The judge came in unceremoniously through a door behind the clerk’s desk and took her seat. She was a small, dark-skinned woman— the superior court’s only Filipina— with graying hair, a frosty demeanor, and a stern, no-nonsense reputation. If you were prepared, she was an exemplary judge, efficient and fair, but if you weren’t, God help you.
“Be seated,” she said. “We’re here on People v. Woods, et al. Counsel, state your appearances for the record and then we’ll move on to the motion.”
When I stated my appearance and explained that Mitch was in trial, she glared. I braced myself for an interrogation about why he hadn’t moved heaven and earth to make his appearance, but instead she turned to her clerk and asked, sharply, “Did he call?”
“Yes, Your Honor. He called on Friday. The trial is in Lancaster and the judge denied his request for a continuance so he could be here today. He apologizes.”
I’s dotted and t’s crossed, she said, “Fine. Welcome, Mr. Rios.”
I smiled. “Always a pleasure, Your Honor.”
“Now,” she said, “I’ve read the motion and the opposition. I will allow each side five minutes if they wish to say anything further before I—”
“Your Honor,” the DA said.
“What is it, Mr. Robinson?” she asked, displeased at the interruption.
“Your Honor, the People move to dismiss all charges against all defendants in the interests of justice.”
At the defense table we exchanged baffled looks.
“Did you file a 1382 motion?”
“No, Your Honor. I’m making it verbally now.”
This was exactly the kind of surprise she did not like. “Tell me, counsel, what are the interests of justice that would be served by dismissing a case against these defendants after two months of taking up this court’s time and resources?”
Robinson visibly paled but plunged on. “We have new information.”
“What information?”
He took a deep breath. “I can’t say in open court.”
Before she could respond Marc Unger was on his feet. “Your Honor, Marc Unger, Assistant City Attorney. If I may approach.”
“What’s your interest in this case, Mr. Unger?” she asked, sharply.
“If Mr. Robinson and I could approach and speak to you privately, I will explain everything,” he said suavely.
Ellen was on her feet. “The defense objects.”
Unger glanced over at us and in the same dulcet tone said, “If Her Honor agrees, the case against your clients will be dismissed. How could you possibly object to that, Miss Lefkowitz?”
“Because,” Ellen replied, “if she doesn’t agree, we want to know why you asked for a dismissal.”
Manasque-Brown said, “Counsel, talk to me, not each other.” She scowled. “Mr. Unger, Mr. Robinson, I don’t know what you’re up to but this is no way to proceed. If you wanted to dismiss this case, you should have filed the appropriate motion.”
“Your Honor,” Unger said. “This is a matter of the utmost sensitivity.”
After a tense moment of silence, she said, “Approach.”
Unger and Robinson stepped to the bench, and for the next five minutes they and the judge conducted a conversation in fierce whispers. At the end of it, she said, “Step back.”
Ellen said, “Your Honor, the defense—”
“Objects, I know,” she said. “Your objection is noted, but it’s also irrelevant because I’m granting the People’s motion and dismissing all charges against all defendants. With prejudice.”
“Why?” I blurted out.
“Ask Mr. Unger,” she said. “We’re adjourned.”
••••
I caught up with Marc in the parking lot.
“Hey,” I said. “What was that all about?”
He blasted me with his smile. “You been working out, Henry? Because you are looking good. You know, if I weren’t already taken—”
“Answer my question.”
He shrugged. “Your guy got off. Take the win.”
I thought for a moment. “You represent the police department. We were asking for personnel records. There was something in them you didn’t want us to see. Something worse than excessive force complaints. Something so bad you forced Robinson to drop the charges to keep those records private.”
“You’re wasted in the defense bar. You really should come and work for me.”
“But what,”
