Parisi grinned. “You’re quite the bulldog, David. Good for you. You all know about Rodney King?” Parisi asked, loosening his tie.
“Rodney King, a black parolee, refused to exit his car after he was stopped for speeding. He was pulled out of his vehicle and struck fifty-six times by four white cops — a massive, bloody beating, all caught on videotape. The case went to trial. The cops were acquitted, and so began the race riots in LA.
“So the tape didn’t make the case a slam dunk. And maybe this is why: First time you see the Rodney King tape, you’re horrified. Second time, you’re outraged. But once you see it for the twentieth time, your brain has been around every corner of that scene, and you remember it, sure, but the shock power’s gone.
“Everyone in this country with a television set has seen Jack Rooney’s tape of Alfred Brinkley shooting those people over and over and over again. By now it’s lost its shock power. Understand?
“That said, the tape is in. We should win this case. And we’re going to do everything we can to put Brinkley on death row.
“But we’re going against a smart and tenacious attorney in Barbara Blanco,” Parisi said, leaning back in his chair. “And she isn’t working this crap public-defender job for the money. She believes in her client, and the jury is going to feel that.
“We’ve got to be prepared for anything. And that’s the end of today’s lecture.”
A respectful silence fell over the conference room. Len Parisi was definitely “da man” around here.
“Yuki, anything we forgot to go over?”
“I think we’re covered.”
“Feeling good?”
“Feeling great, Len. I’m ready to go. Can’t wait.”
“Sure. You’re twenty-eight. But I need my beauty sleep. I’ll see you here at seven thirty a.m. Everyone else, stay tuned. We’ll have a postmortem at close of day tomorrow.”
Yuki said good night to her colleagues and left the room, feeling charged up and lucky that tomorrow morning, she’d be Leonard Parisi’s second chair.
And despite Parisi’s cautionary rant, Yuki did feel confident. Brinkley wasn’t O. J. or even Robert Durst. He had no star wattage, no media appeal. Only weeks ago he was sleeping on the street with a loaded gun in his pocket. He’d killed four total strangers.
No way a jury would chance letting that maniac back on the streets of San Francisco again. Would they?
Part Four
THE PEOPLE VS. ALFRED BRINKLEY
Chapter 62
YUKI PUT HER BRIEFCASE next to Leonard’s on the table outside Department 21. They passed through the metal detectors, walked through the first set of double doors into the small anteroom, then through the second set of doors and directly into the courtroom.
There was a definite buzz from the gallery as Red Dog, at six two in navy-blue pinstripes, walked next to Yuki, at five three in heels, a hundred pounds in her pearl-gray suit, down the center aisle of the courtroom. Leonard yanked open the gate that separated the gallery from the bar, let her go ahead of him. Then he followed and immediately began setting up at the prosecution table.
Yuki’s thrill of anticipation was cut sharply with first-day jitters. There was nothing more she could do to prepare, and she couldn’t bear to wait. She straightened her lapels and her stack of papers, glanced at her watch. Court was due to begin in five minutes sharp, and the defense table was empty.
The room stirred again, and what she saw almost stopped her heart. She nudged Leonard, and he turned.
Alfred Brinkley was coming up the aisle. His beard had been shaved, his long hair had been buzzed short, and he was wearing a blue polyester suit and tie, looking about as dangerous as rice pudding.
But it wasn’t Brinkley who’d made her stomach clench and her mouth drop open.
Barbara Blanco wasn’t at Brinkley’s side. Instead, there was a man in his early forties, prematurely gray, dressed in a charcoal-gray Brioni suit and yellow-print Armani tie. She knew Brinkley’s new attorney.
Everyone did.
“Aw, fuck,” Parisi said, smiling stiffly. “Mickey Sherman. You know him, don’t you, Yuki?”
“Sure do. We were cocounsel when we defended a friend of mine only months ago.”
“Yeah, I remember. Homicide lieutenant charged with wrong-ful death.” Parisi took off his glasses, polished them with his handkerchief, said to Yuki, “What’d I say last night?”