I arrested Lambert for battery, theft, and disorderly conduct. Conklin read him his rights and stuffed him into the back seat of the cruiser.
After my partner slapped the flank of the departing cruiser, I said to him, “Did you notice? That dude actually looked glad to see us.”
CHAPTER 5
That day Yuki was in sentencing court, standing before the bar.
Across the aisle, defense counsel Allison Junker stood with her client, Sandra McDowell. McDowell was a fifty-three-year-old woman who had lost control of her car two weeks before and plowed into a gang of kids exiting a sports bar on Fillmore Street.
There had thankfully been no fatalities, but three of the boys she’d hit had been hospitalized with an assortment of injuries to heads and limbs. McDowell had been driving while intoxicated and made an illegal turn. She had pled guilty, been remanded to the court without bail, and been in jail since her arraignment. Yuki expected the sentencing hearing to be swift, smooth, and punishing.
Judge Bella Walters was on the bench, presiding over a full courtroom. It wasn’t yet the end of the day, and she’d sentenced over two hundred people since breakfast. A small green pin shaped like a wreath sparkled on her collar.
The judge said, “Ms. Castellano. Talk to me.”
Yuki said, “Your Honor, Mrs. McDowell drove her car into a crowd, injuring three young college students, one of whom is a rising football star. First officer on the scene gave Mrs. McDowell a Breathalyzer test. Her blood alcohol was 0.15. She was severely impaired.”
The judge flipped through papers in front of her and asked, “She called the police?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” said defense counsel Junker.
“And she pled guilty?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Yuki said, “Your Honor, this is not Mrs. McDowell’s first DUI. We’re asking for a sentence of three to five years, time commensurate with the pain and suffering of her victims. It’s too soon to tell, but some of their injuries may be permanent.”
The defendant was now weeping into her hands.
The judge addressed the defendant. “Mrs. McDowell, it says here that you’re a pharmacist, married, two children in college. And this prior DUI was a one-car accident?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I hit a tree.”
The judge said, “Don’t you just hate those jaywalking trees?”
“Your Honor,” said Ms. Junker, “Mrs. McDowell is a good citizen. Her entire family is dependent on her income, including her husband, who has MS and is confined to a wheelchair. She has accepted responsibility for this accident from the time it happened and is unbelievably sorry. She intends to join AA upon her release. We urge the court to show leniency.”
Judge Walters wrinkled her brow and looked up as a scuffle broke out at the back of the room. She banged her gavel and demanded silence in the court, even as Sandra McDowell continued to cry.
Yuki would be happy with a three-year sentence, she thought. It would get McDowell off the street, and during that time, she was hoping that those three boys could recover from their injuries, get PT, and return to the lives they’d had planned before McDowell ran into them with her Buick.
Judge Walters said, “Mrs. McDowell, before I impose a sentence, do you have anything to say?”
Mrs. McDowell dabbed at her face with a tissue.
“Yes, Your Honor. I’m very sorry. I’m only grateful that I didn’t kill anyone, but what I did was inexcusable. Whatever sentence you think fair is okay with me.”
Judge Walters said, “Mrs. McDowell, I’m revoking your driver’s license and giving you a year of probation, including eight months of community service, twenty hours a week. Do not drive. If one year from now your parole officer reports to me that you’ve attended AA and completed your community service and automotive abstinence, this court will be done with you.
“I’m releasing you today for time served. Next time there will be no leniency, do you understand me?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you very much.”
“Thank my Christmas spirit. That’s all. Next?”
Allison Junker smirked over her client’s shoulder, and Yuki gave her a Drop dead look before leaving the courtroom, feeling like she’d been punched in the face by Santa Claus.
Why everyone loves James Patterson and the Women’s Murder Club
‘It’s no mystery why James Patterson is the world’s most popular thriller writer. Simply put: nobody does it better.’
Jeffery Deaver
‘Boxer steals the show as the tough cop with a good heart.’
Mirror
‘No one gets this big without amazing natural storytelling talent – which is what Jim has, in spades.’
Lee Child
‘James Patterson is the gold standard by which all others are judged.’
Steve Berry
‘A compelling read with great set pieces and, most of all, that charismatic cast of characters.’
Sun
‘Patterson boils a scene down to the single, telling detail, the element that defines a character or moves a plot along. It’s what fires off the movie projector in the reader’s mind.’
Michael Connelly
‘James Patterson is The Boss. End of.’
Ian Rankin
Have You Read Them All?
1ST TO DIE
Four friends come together to form the Women’s Murder Club. Their job? To find a killer who is brutally slaughtering newly-wed couples on their wedding night.