Chapter 67
I SWEAR TO God, I couldn’t believe what was happening. The judge slammed the gavel until the courtroom came to something resembling order, but she was clearly losing control of the proceedings.
When the opposing attorneys were back behind their respective tables, when the roar in the gallery had subsided into a stunned silence, the judge put her pooch in her lap and said, “Mr. Del Rio, you are one split second from being removed from this court.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
“Can you control yourself? Or would you like to watch your trial on closed-circuit from a holding cell?”
“I’ve got myself under control, Your Honor. I apologize to you and everyone else. But that dirtbag—”
“Stop right there!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Del Rio stared bullets at Dexter Lewis, and the jurors looked back and forth between them. Caine asked for a sidebar, and he and Lewis approached the bench.
I knew Caine was requesting a mistrial again, because there was no chance the jurors could ignore Rick’s violent reaction to Lewis, even if they were instructed to do so.
There was inaudible chatter at the bench, then the attorneys stepped away, Dexter Lewis showing a twitchy smile, which told me that he was doing his best to keep a victory lap in check.
The judge asked, “Mr. Lewis, do you have any further questions for Mr. Del Rio?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Caine, would you like to reexamine Mr. Del Rio?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I would.”
“Go ahead.”
“Rick. Did you beat up Vicky Carmody?”
“No.”
“Thank you. That’s all I have. The defense rests.”
The judge told Del Rio to stand down, and then she addressed the jury, telling them that she was adjourning court for the weekend, that they were prohibited from discussing the case, and that the attorneys would give their closing arguments on Monday.
The courtroom emptied and people filled in the space between Rick and me. I took an elevator to the ground floor, trusting that Caine was taking Del Rio out the back way.
I cut through the crowds in the lobby and went out the front and around to the parking lot, where a mob stampeded past me, heading to the rear of the lot, over by the ramp.
I went along with the herd and then I heard grunting and a sharp scream of pain, followed by Dexter Lewis shouting: “You puke. You ass-wipe. You think I’m afraid of you, you fucking goon?”
I saw through a break in the crowd. Del Rio had snapped.
Caine and assorted bystanders had pulled him off Dexter Lewis, who was holding his hands to his nose, blood running through his fingers, splashing on his white shirt and pale gray suit.
I read shock on Lewis’s face, the realization that there was another kind of hardball played outside the courtroom and that he’d just taken the brunt of it.
But Lewis wasn’t going to let Del Rio get the last word.
Rick had punched out the ADA, and there would be a price to pay.