CHAPTER TEN
ON WEDNESDAY MORNING I arrived in Hinton for the arraignment of Howard Patino in the courtroom of Judge Oswald Mellor. I knew nothing about Mellor except what I picked up from another lawyer in the hallway. Mellor, like most judges in the law-and-order atmosphere of California, was a former prosecutor. He liked to pretend he was the folksy type, this lawyer told me, sort of like Andy Griffith. “He’ll sell you crackers and cornpone before he slams your client in the clink,” the lawyer said.
Maybe that’s why Sylvia Plotzske wore a slight smile as she entered with her files and plopped them on the prosecution table. I didn’t give her time to get into them.
“Good morning,” I said, with just the right mix of civility and churlishness.
“Give me a moment, please,” she said. I merely stood there as she fussed with her files for a minute or two, making herself look busy. Finally she acknowledged my presence again and said, “I spoke with Tolletson about this case.”
“Yes?”
“And we really can’t offer anything less than second degree.”
“You could if you really wanted to.”
“This was a shocking crime, Mr. Dennis—”
“Denney.”
“—and it just isn’t going to go any lower.”
I didn’t know Sylvia Plotzske well enough yet to know whether this was a bluff or not. My guess was that it wasn’t. She didn’t seem the type, and she was probably just following the dictates of her boss on this one.
“I’m going to need some time to think about it,” I said.
“You can have until the prelim,” she answered.
There was nothing more to say. I took a chair and waited for the judge.
At 8:55, three jail inmates were marched in by deputy sheriffs and seated in the jury box. One of them was Howie. He looked pale and scared, or maybe just horribly confused. I walked over to the box and waited for the sheriff to remove the shackles.
“How you doing?” I asked.
“What’s going on, Jake?”
“You’re going to enter a plea this morning. That gets us on track for the preliminary hearing.”
“Do I plead guilty?”
“Not yet. You plead not guilty.”
“But—”
“Buy us some time.”
“But—”
“Okay?”
Howie looked at his hands. “I’ll do what you tell me, Jake, but I want to confess. I want to get this over with. I want to clear my soul.”
He was starting to move down the path toward hysteria, so I put my hands up to calm him down. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I been having dreams every night, Jake. The devil is in them. He’s going to take me if I don’t confess!”
“Howie, you trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s do it my way.”
“But—”
Judge Oswald Mellor entered the courtroom. The bailiff called everyone to order as I motioned to Howie to sit down.
“Morning, ya’ll,” Mellor said. He was graying and in his sixties, with short hair that was a bit unruly. It was almost like the look was studied and intended to portray an air of informality.
He called the first case. One of the other jail inmates stood at the jury box rail as his lawyer joined him. It was a felony battery. Judge Mellor read a litany of rights and asked the defendant if he understood them. He said he did, then entered a plea of not guilty. A prelim was set, and the defendant disappeared back into the bowels of the courthouse lockup.
Then Mellor called our case.
I stood and said, “Good morning, Your Honor. Jake Denney on behalf, Howard Patino.”
“Morning, Mr. Denney. Nice to have you here.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“Hope it stays that way.” The judge winked at his bailiff who smiled. “We don’t usually get city folks up here.”
“Well, that works out,” I said. “We don’t usually get the rubes down there.”
Mellor didn’t smile, and I immediately realized my blunder. You don’t joke with a judge who wants to be the head comedian. And you especially don’t fling humorous insults back at him as if he were a drinking buddy. I felt the other lawyers looking at me like they couldn’t believe I could be so dumb.
Quickly, I said, “We’ll waive a reading of the complaint and statement of rights, and my client is ready to enter a plea.” I joined Howie at the jury box.
“Son,” the judge said, “do you understand the charges against you?”
Howie looked at me, and I nodded at him. Howie said, “Yes.”
“How do you plead?”
Again Howie looked at me. I whispered, “Not guilty,” but Howie shook his head.
“
Not guilty,”
I whispered, a little louder this time.
Howie just looked at me like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.
“Mr. Denney?” the judge said. “Is your client ready to enter a plea?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Turning again to Howie, I whispered, “Do it!”
Howie looked down and mumbled, “Not guilty.”
“How’s that?” the judge said.
I glared at Howie. He raised his voice a little. “Not guilty.”
“All right,” Judge Mellor said. “Preliminary hearing is set for a week from Monday in Judge Abovian’s court. You have any thoughts on bail, Ms. Plotzske?”
Sylvia Plotzske stood. “Yes, Your Honor. We request that the defendant be held without bail. This was an act of extreme violence, shocking to this community. The victim sustained at least twenty-five stab wounds. In addition, it’s clear that this defendant has no ties to the community. He’s been living in Alaska for the last several months. He’s a flight risk as well as a danger.”
The judge looked at me with a frown.
“Your Honor,” I said, “it is not true that my client has no ties to this community. He has his son, Brian. He’s not going to abandon him. The boy’s staying with Mr. Patino’s parents now, and he wants to see him, to be a father to him. He is not going to flee.”
The judge kept his frown intact.
“And my client has no prior record of violence. There is nothing in his past to indicate he is a threat to anyone. I don’t think the prosecutor has shown by clear and convincing evidence that he is.”
“Twenty-five stab wounds is pretty convincing,” the judge said.
“Again, look to my client’s past.”
Judge Mellor said, “Bail set at five hundred thousand. Let’s go to the next case.”
“Your Honor?” I said.
Mellor looked at me like I’d interrupted his lunch. “What is it?”
“I’d like to request the appointment of a confidential psychiatrist.”
“You want him evaluated for mental competency?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Denied.”
“I think this is a necessary step.”
“I don’t. If you want him evaluated on your dime, go ahead. But I don’t see any evidence of incapacity here.”
“That’s what the evaluation is for, Your Honor, to—”
“Denied. Next case.”
And with that, I was dismissed. I told Howie to hang in there a little longer and reminded him not to talk to anyone. He was just about to be taken back into the lockup when he said, “You only said one wrong thing, Jake.”
“What was that?”
“I don’t want Brian back. I want him to forget about me. I’m no good for him.” He turned around and went with the sheriff.
I didn’t say anything to Sylvia Plotzske before I left. There was no need to. We could both read the handwriting on the wall of the Hinton County Courthouse.
Howie was going to do some serious time in prison.