“That should give you a window into this man’s character.
“The prosecution would like you to believe that the hardest decision you’ll have to make in this trial is picking your foreperson.
“But you haven’t heard the full story yet.
“Witnesses who know Mr. Brinkley and psychiatric professionals who have examined him will attest to Mr. Brinkley’s character and his past and present state of mind.
“When you’ve heard our case in its entirety, I am confident that you will find Fred Brinkley ‘not guilty’ by reason of mental defect or disease.
“Because the truth is, Fred Brinkley is a good man who is afflicted with a terrible mind-altering disease.”
Chapter 67
AT 6:30 THAT NIGHT, Yuki and Leonard Parisi were seated in the cavernous sunken dining room at Restaurant LuLu, an old warehouse turned popular eatery not far from the Hall of Justice.
Yuki felt sharp, part of the A-team. The winning A-team. She carved into her rotisserie chicken and Len tucked into his spicy prawn pizza, the two of them reviewing the day as they ate, trying on potential roadblocks, planning how to detonate those roadblocks in their next day’s presentation of the People’s case against Alfred Brinkley.
Leonard refilled their wineglasses with a sixty-dollar merlot, saying, “Grrrrr. Beware of Team Red Dog.”
Yuki laughed, sipped, put her papers into a large leather bag as the dinner plates were taken away. Working as a civil litigator had never felt as good as this.
The large brick oven across the room perfumed the air with burning hickory wood, and as the restaurant and bar filled up, conversation and laughter caromed off the walls and high ceilings.
“Coffee?” Len asked Yuki.
“Sure,” she said. “And I’m so stoked, I think I’m gonna go for the profiteroles.”
“I’ll second that,” Leonard said, raising his hand to signal their waitress. And then, in midgesture, his face went slack. Len put his hand on his chest and half stood, leaning against the seat back, which caused the chair to topple over, throwing him onto the floor.
Yuki heard a tray fall behind her. Dishes broke, and someone screamed.
She realized that the scream had come from her.
She jumped from her seat, crouched beside the big man who was rolling from side to side and moaning.
“Leonard! Len, where does it hurt?”
He mumbled, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying over the roar of concern all around them.
“Can you raise your arms, Len?”
“My chest,” he groaned. “Call my wife.”
“I can drive him to the hospital,” a man was saying over Yuki’s shoulder. “My car is right out front.”
“Thanks, but that’ll take too long.”
“Look, the hospital is only ten minutes —”
“Please. No, thank you. EMS brings the hospital to him, okay?”
Yuki pulled her satchel toward her, emptied it onto the floor, and located her cell phone. She blocked out the well-meaning guy behind her, pictured the traffic jam, the three hours’ wait outside the emergency room — which is what would happen if anything but an ambulance took Len to the hospital.
That was the mistake they’d made with her dad.
Yuki gripped Len’s hand as she listened intently to the ring tone. She hissed, “Come on, come on,” and when the 911 operator answered, she spoke distinctly and urgently.
“This is an emergency. Send an ambulance to Restaurant LuLu at 816 Folsom. My friend is having a heart attack.”