The Family Lawyer Read online

  “Absolutely, sir. I’m totally clean.”

  “Good to hear,” I say, hoping it’s true. Facing Brianna, I say, “I was hoping we could talk about Hailey and Farah.”

  “I can’t without my parents.”

  “It’s important for me to speak with you alone. That’s how lawyers do it.”

  “My dad’s a lawyer, and he thinks—”

  “He’s a civil lawyer. It’s different. I promise it won’t take long.” Without an invitation, I take a seat across from her.

  She glances at Ethan and says in a barely audible voice, “Okay, I guess.”

  I’m strong-arming the girl, but this is how an effective defense lawyer operates.

  Ethan stands and says, “I’ll be at the counter.”

  “So, tell me what you know about Farah and Hailey,” I say.

  “Nothing, really. Farah was on the soccer team. She was really good. A center midfielder like Hailey. They were kind of competitive, but…”

  “You’re not saying that the competition resulted in bullying?” My tone is more abrupt than I intended.

  “No.”

  “So, what are you saying, Bree?”

  She shrugs.

  “You can understand how, as a parent, I’m so upset at these charges. Please tell me what you know.”

  “I guess Hailey mentored Farah and Farah got, like, inappropriate? Not just with Hailey, with all of us. She tried to force herself into our group, which was weird not only because she didn’t fit in, but because she was a freshman and we’re all sophomores. A couple of times, she showed up uninvited at group events—at a party once and a movie one time. We didn’t know how she even heard about them. She’d do favors for us, which was nice, because we didn’t ask for them, but then she’d expect us to do bigger favors for her in return. Hailey finally got sick of it and told Farah to leave us alone, that she should find friends in her grade.”

  “Did Farah listen?”

  “Not really. Then there was a collision between Hailey and Farah on the soccer field, and Farah got hurt.”

  Hailey hasn’t told me about this. “I assume the collision was accidental?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “You guess so?”

  “Yeah. It was an accident. Of course it was.”

  “Anything else I should know?”

  She thinks for a moment and shakes her head.

  “Thanks for the time, Brianna. You’ve been very helpful. I’m sorry I surprised you. Apologize to your parents for me, too. I hope they’ll understand. You understand, don’t you?”

  She nods.

  Before I can get up to leave, Ethan comes over and says, “Matt, could I talk to you?”

  I sit back down. Ethan and Brianna trade places, and the girl walks away as if she’d just been released from the penitentiary.

  “What’s up, Ethan?”

  He folds his hands on the table and pauses for a moment. “So, this is awkward, because Hailey is my friend. But I think it’s only fair to tell you. A couple of weeks before Farah died, I got some texts from Hailey telling me Farah was air. Invisible, you know? And I’m not the only person who got the messages. After that, Farah got frozen out, not just by our group, but by most people in the school. Word travels fast. People didn’t want to be seen with her because it would hurt their reputations.”

  I have trouble processing this. “Brianna didn’t say anything about text messages like that.”

  “She’s a girl in the group. Hailey didn’t have to text her.”

  “When did this happen, again?”

  “A few weeks before Farah…before she killed herself.”

  “Do you have copies of these texts, Ethan?”

  “No, sir. Hailey asked me to erase them a couple of days after Farah died.” He hesitates. “And you should know something else. I’ve spoken with the DA’s office—Mr. Lundy? I told him about the texts. My parents said it was my obligation. I feel really bad about it because I don’t want to hurt Hailey.”

  “Are you seriously implying Hailey was trying to cover something up?”

  He shrugs.

  “I’m sorry, Ethan, but I find this hard to believe. This doesn’t sound like Hailey.”

  “Really? You’re her father. I assumed you knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “Hailey has a dark side. She has ever since we were little kids. She’ll cut you dead if you cross her—or sometimes even if you don’t. People listen to her even when it’s the wrong thing to do.”

  “Why do people listen to her?”

  “Because she’s Hailey Hovanes,” he says as if there’s nothing more obvious in the world.

  Chapter 11

  When I get back to the office, Debra shares some more bad news—the DA’s office just sent over a stack of e-mails gleaned from Farah’s computer that came from an anonymous, so far untraceable address. They seem to have been written by Hailey: leave Aaron alone bitch or you’re dead; stay away from me and my friends or you’ll be sorry; quit the team we all hate you; find a school for special needs morons before it’s too late. And on and on, a barrage against the girl—sometimes a dozen messages sent in a single day. We can argue lack of authentication under the Evidence Code all we want, but the DA will scorch the earth to get these documents before a jury.

  I tell Debra about my conversation with Ethan. She doesn’t respond, but I know what she’s thinking: I’ve been too trusting of Hailey, have been behaving like a parent, not a lawyer. I call my daughter and demand that she come to the office immediately. She pleads schoolwork, says we can speak later at home, but I won’t hear of it. The conversation will take place between attorney and client, and it has to happen in my domain. It has to happen without Janet.

  Hailey walks in a half hour later.

  “What do you know about these?” I say, showing her the e-mails.

  She sits down and reads through some of them. “Oh, my God, they’re horrible. I didn’t send these. I swear on my life.”

  “Then who did?” Debra asks.

  “No idea,” Hailey says. “Maybe Farah sent them to herself to set me up? Look at the lies she made up about me on her suicide note.” Hailey hasn’t seen the actual video but has only read a transcript. I’ve decided to spare her the actual video as long as possible.

  Debra flashes me a concerned look.

  “I met with Ethan Gold,” I say. “He says you sent texts to him and some others telling them to exclude Farah—to treat her as if she was invisible.”

  “She hit on my boyfriend and stalked me and was totally annoying. We didn’t want her around. It’s a free country, right?”

  “Your attitude stinks,” I say. “And you hid this from us. That was stupid.”

  Debra holds up a hand to me. In a soft but firm tone, she says, “Your behavior can be viewed as bullying, Hailey. That’s how the district attorney is going to spin your texts. He’s going to say that you harassed Farah and convinced other kids to do it. He’s going to argue that you wanted the texts deleted to cover up your actions because you knew you were guilty.”

  “Oh, my God, it was the other way around. I just wanted her to stop harassing me. I can’t believe you’re against me, Debra. My dad told me about a case for a photographer where you’re fighting for free speech. Don’t I have the same rights?”

  “I’m not against you,” Debra says. “It’s quite the opposite. I’m trying to protect you. The only way your father and I can do that is to be completely honest with you and for you to be honest with us.”

  “Anyway, Ethan is exaggerating. Actually, he’s probably doing this because he’s jealous of Aaron. Do you know that the day before spring break started, he said he has a crush on me? Why did he tell me that and ruin our friendship? What did he expect? He’s like a brother to me. I guess I hurt his feelings, so maybe this is his way of getting back at me.”

  “How did Ethan exaggerate about your texts?” Debra asks.

  “I just know he did. They weren�
�t that big a deal. People text things about other kids all the time, and no one takes it seriously. Ethan is a huge gossip himself. I mean, come on, it’s just texting.”

  “Hailey, look at me,” I say, and she looks me straight in the eyes. “You’re going to stop defending those texts. You’re going to say that it was a mean thing to do in hindsight, but Farah was making you uncomfortable, and you didn’t know what else to do. You’re going to say that you asked people to delete them because you were embarrassed and that you’re very sorry, but things never went any further. You’re going to say those things because it’s the truth.”

  Debra glances at me, clearly surprised at my forcefulness. I usually take a soft approach with clients. But Hailey isn’t just any client.

  “Of course, Dad,” Hailey says. “If that’s what I need to say, absolutely.”

  “You need to tell the truth,” Debra says.

  “It is the truth,” Hailey replies.

  I reach across the table and take Hailey’s hands. “Is there anything else you’re not telling us?”

  “No, Dad. Absolutely not. I swear.”

  “Okay. Good. Because we need to know everything, even if you don’t think it’s important.”

  “Got it.”

  I ask Hailey to wait outside. After she leaves the room, I say, “Do you think she’s hiding something?”

  “I honestly don’t know what to think, Matt.”

  “Then there’s a major problem.”

  “Is it just my problem?”

  All at once I’m overcome with that overwhelming current, that wellspring that refuses to let us hide our emotions, and my eyes brim with tears of disappointment, confusion, and most of all, dread. “What if she did this, Debra? What if my daughter really is some monster who…? I thought I knew who she is. I don’t know who she is. I…” Struggling not to break down entirely, I bury my face in my hands.

  Debra walks behind me and gently touches my shoulder. “We’re going to do what we always do, Matt. We’re going to represent her to the best of our abilities and fight to get her out of this. We’re going to see that justice is done.”

  Through the tears, I wonder if justice is what I really want.

  Chapter 12

  The bailiff cries out, “All rise!”

  We’re in court for Hailey’s preliminary hearing, a proceeding in which the prosecution must show that it has probable cause to bind her over for a full-blown trial. The security door to the judge’s chambers clicks open, and the Honorable Brady Sears takes the bench. The bad news is he was once the district attorney, so he leans prosecution. The good news is he hired both me and my nemesis, Joshua Lundy, and he’s a fair person. When I discovered Lundy concealing evidence, Sears had already left to become a judge. I like to think that if Sears had still been in office, he would’ve done the right thing—unlike his successor, the political hack who’ll do anything for a conviction.

  I glance back at Janet, who’s in the gallery. She gives a nod of encouragement. We’ve had our issues, but she’s always made me feel like a great lawyer.

  The judge instructs the defendant to rise—I still find it unimaginable that my daughter is a defendant—and asks her to enter a plea.

  “Not guilty, Your Honor,” Hailey says, her tone steady and confident.

  “We’ll conduct the preliminary hearing now,” the judge says.

  I stand and say, “The defense has a motion, Your Honor.”

  “Proceed, Mr. Hovanes.”

  “Your Honor, there’s no dispute in this case that the tragic suicide of Farah Medhipour was just that—a suicide. We vehemently deny that Hailey Hovanes harassed or bullied Farah, and a trial would prove that. But we shouldn’t have a trial. Under the law, a person can’t be held responsible for another’s suicide. We can never know what causes a person to take her own life, can never get inside a troubled mind. There’s also no dispute that Farah was depressed, on medication. There’s no dispute that she had emotional problems for years. There simply isn’t legal causation. The charges against my client should be dismissed.” The key to good courtroom advocacy is leaving the listener with the impression that you’re sincere. Flash, oratory, and presence are great, sure, but they’re not as important as sincerity. I believe in what I’m saying.

  “There’s another reason why this case should be dismissed,” I continue. “The cyber-stalking laws impinge upon free speech. Even hateful speech is entitled to protection under the First Amendment. Sad as it may be, it’s human nature to gossip, to needle, to ridicule. Allowing even vulgar and offensive speech is essential to a democratic society.” I go on to discuss some helpful legal opinions that Debra found. Then I sit down and hope.

  To my surprise, Hailey takes my hand. Usually, she’s not physically demonstrative.

  Lundy stands, and rather than using the lectern, he remains at counsel table—his way of conveying that my argument is so feeble that he needs only a brief moment to refute it. He’s still a lanky man, athletic, with angular features. Good-looking except for residual scars from childhood acne. And the eyes and ethics of a serpent.

  “The cyber-bullying laws are constitutional because harassment, bullying, and torture are actions, not words,” he says dismissively. “As for defense counsel’s argument that a bully can never be responsible for the consequences of her conduct, that’s absurd. Under the statute, whoever with the intent to kill, harass, or intimidate another person that causes severe emotional distress has committed the crime of cyber bullying. The People will present evidence that Hailey Hovanes caused Farah Medhipour severe emotional distress and drove her to suicide.” With that, he sits down.

  I stand to reply, but the judge says, “Defendant’s motion is denied.”

  Hailey releases my hand and slumps in her chair. I don’t have to turn to look at Janet, because I can feel her dismay. Winning the motion was a long shot with a law-and-order judge like Sears, but that doesn’t lessen the disappointment.

  “The People will present evidence,” the judge says.

  “The People call Detective Ernesto Velasquez,” Lundy says.

  Velasquez takes the stand and testifies about the anonymous threatening e-mails, about Farah’s video accusation against Hailey, about the texts she sent Ethan Gold. All hearsay, but hearsay is admissible in a preliminary proceeding, and unlike in an actual trial, the prosecution’s burden of proof is very low. So far, no surprises.

  Then Lundy asks, “Detective Velasquez, did you take a statement from one Nicholas Volokh?”

  “I did.”

  “Who’s Nicholas Volokh?”

  “The upper-school soccer coach at the Star Point School.”

  “What did Mr. Volokh tell you?”

  “Objection,” I say. “The defense hasn’t been provided with a copy of Volokh’s statement.”

  “It was just signed this morning, Your Honor,” Lundy says. “I thought my office sent over a copy to Grant & Hovanes.”

  I glance at Debra, who shakes her head.

  “My bad,” Lundy says. “I apologize.” He reaches over and hands us a copy of Volokh’s sworn statement. In it, the coach claims that during a practice, Hailey intentionally tried to injure Farah, shoving the girl from behind.

  “The document is signed under penalty of perjury?” Lundy asks Velasquez.

  “Yes, sir. The witness was very concerned about its accuracy.”

  “No further questions,” Lundy says.

  “Cross-examination?” the judge asks.

  I want to interrogate Velasquez, to batter him into conceding that Lundy intentionally withheld Coach Volokh’s statement. Cops are tough witnesses to crack, but I’ve made a living accomplishing it. As I rise, Debra touches my arm.

  “Save it for trial,” she says, chilling, because I now fully realize there will be a trial.

  “No questions,” I say. “But there’s one other issue we need to discuss. My daughter…my client is a juvenile. The defense would request that the court—”

&nb
sp; “Stop right there, counselor,” the judge says. “Bullying with intent to inflict severe emotional distress or death is horrific, and that makes it an adult crime. The defendant will be tried as an adult.”

  Suddenly, the prospect that my child will serve the rest of her life in prison is all too real.

  Chapter 13

  Dedicated criminal defense attorneys can represent society’s vermin—terrorists, murderers, even pedophiles—and still sleep at night. That’s because we never ask if the client is guilty, don’t give a rat’s ass if the client is guilty. Under the American justice system, even a guilty person is entitled to a defense.

  Such willful blindness might be a blessing for a defense attorney, but it’s a parent’s curse. So, I almost drag Hailey into the attorney conference room after her disastrous preliminary hearing and say, “Did you harass and stalk that girl? Did you try to hurt her like Coach Nick says? I want the truth.”

  “I can’t believe you’re talking to me this way.”

  “Answer me, Hailey!”

  “Keep your voices down,” Debra says in a harsh rasp I’ve heard her use with opposing counsel and recalcitrant witnesses but never with me. “You and Hailey discuss this alone.” Before waiting for a response, she walks out. She doesn’t want to know whether our client is guilty.

  “I didn’t do what they say, and I didn’t try to hurt her on the soccer field,” Hailey says. “We were scrimmaging, and it was a fifty-fifty ball. You asked Brianna Welch, and she said it was a clean hit. She was there.”

  “Then why would Volokh say—?”

  “Coach Nick is a jerk. He’s been against me ever since I quit the Dynamo. Farah was his little pet because she joined his club team. I did not do what they say, Dad.”

  My genuine sense of relief is tempered by a lingering skepticism.

  “I can’t really go to jail, right, Dad?”

  “Hailey, the charges against you are very serious, and you made it worse by not telling us everything. You’re in trouble, and you have to tell us everything.” I reach over to take her hands, but she pulls them away.