Overkill

“Teller’s richly suspenseful story will leave the reader eagerly anticipating the denouement and Jaywalker’s next adventure.”

—Publishers Weekly starred review of The Tenth Case

“Joseph Teller’s stellar The Tenth Case sets the standard for defense attorney procedurals.”

—Mysterious Reviews

“A glimpse into a different era and a peek into the psyche of the already intriguing Jaywalker, Teller’s novel draws readers in at the very beginning and doesn’t let up.”

—RT Book Reviews on Bronx Justice

“Jaywalker’s second legal thriller is once again an insightful look at the dysfunctional American jurisprudence system from the perspective of an attorney whose outlook on defending his clients is much different than the typical lawyer.”

—The Merry Genre Go Round Reviews on Bronx Justice

“Depraved Indifference is an excellent legal drama whose strength lies in the meticulous plotting.”

—The Mystery Reader

www.mirabooks.co.uk

To Jason

1: GUILTY WITH AN EXPLANATION

2: WHAT WE HAVE HERE IS AN EXECUTION

3: DUMB-ASSED QUESTIONS

4: A REAL NICE KID

5: JUST GETTING STARTED

6: WELCOME TO TOMBSTONE

7: BRICKS AND BOOKS

8: DUTCH TREAT

9: FRANKIE THE BARBER

10: MIRANDA

11: GETTING ANGRY

12: JURORS ENTERING

13: I HAD A SON

14: STUBBORN AND SELF-DESTRUCTIVE

15: A TWO-BIT PUNK

16: SLIM AND NONE

17: THE PROBLEM AND THE ACCIDENT

18: THE WITNESS IN THE HALLWAY

19: JEREMY’S STORY

20: THE LOST WEEKEND

21: BUTTERFLIES

22: THE LAST WORD

23: WATCHING THE CLOCK

24: NICE SHOES, YOUR HONOR

25: YES IT IS

26: PERFECT SCHMERFECT

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Jaywalker’s sitting in Part 30 when it happens. Part 30 is one of the Supreme Court arraignment courtrooms they have down at 100 Centre Street. It’s where you go before a judge for the first time after you’ve been formally charged with a felony. A felony being anything they can give you more than a year for. Like murder, say.

Jaywalker’s there for a sentencing. A client of his, a wiseguy-wannabe named Johnny Cantalupo, pleaded guilty to possession six weeks ago, in order to avoid going to prison for sale. It was cocaine, and not that awfully much of it, and Johnny’s white and had no record to speak of, so the assistant D.A. and the judge had agreed to probation and time served, specifically the two days Johnny had spent while he was in the system.

In the system.

Whenever he hears the expression, Jaywalker can’t help picturing a huge beast, gobbling up the newly arrested, digesting them for a day or two, and then, well, the rest is a bit vague. Spitting them out? Undigesting them into a courtroom? Or even worse, perhaps.

Although he was the first lawyer to show up this morning, and Johnny (under penalty of death by Jaywalker) the first defendant, they have to wait to get their case called. A written probation report first has to complete an arduous journey spanning three entire floors of the building, a feat that can take hours, sometimes days or even weeks. Never mind that the report will have no impact whatsoever on the sentence; its presence is mandated by law. In fact, the appearance before the judge this day promises to be a perfunctory one, the precise details of the sentence having been long ago worked out, recited on the record, and promised to the defendant on the sole condition that he show up today, which Johnny dutifully has. Consequently, Jaywalker will barely speak, having no need to convince the judge to do anything or refrain from doing anything. He’s therefore allowed his attention to wander from the half-finished crossword puzzle in his lap to the defendants who one by one are brought out to face the judge, stand beside their lawyers and hear the charges they’ve been indicted on by a grand jury.

The first thing that strikes Jaywalker as out of the ordinary is when the clerk calls a particular case and a lawyer, instead of simply rising from his seat in the audience and quietly making his way up to the defense table, shouts out, “Defendant!” This immediately brands him as a civil lawyer, unfamiliar with how they do things over here on the criminal side.

The guy even looks like a civil lawyer, Jaywalker decides. Not just that he’s short and bald; those descriptors apply to plenty of criminal lawyers. No, it’s more than that. There’s something decidedly shifty about him, something just a touch too practiced. Something that suggests ambulance chaser, or fixer. The old term shyster even comes to mind, but Jaywalker immediately banishes it, half forgiving himself only because he himself is half Jewish. Sort of like how African Americans are free to call each other nigger, but others need not apply.

They bring the guy’s client out from the door to the pen, and Jaywalker’s attention shifts to him. He’s a kid, a kid who looks no more than sixteen or seventeen. Tall, though, with good posture for a teen, pale skin and closely cropped blond hair. A couple of years older and he could be a marine recruit, thinks Jaywalker, or in his first year at West Point. But the thing that really stands out is how good-looking the kid is. Beautiful, almost. Though having grown up in the homophobic ’70s, Jaywalker still has a bit of trouble applying the term to a young man. Handsome, yes. Striking-looking, sure. But beautiful? No need to get carried away. But that’s how good-looking the kid is, even after a day or two in the system.