LITMIR.BIZ

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brushed the top of her shoulders, and was far more flattering to her heart-shaped face. Like Veronica, she’d also turned forty the previous year. Now that she’d gotten over the hump, she realized that forty was young. People today were living longer. Since she’d never smoked, drunk heavily, or gorged herself on fatty foods, she might have another fifty years ahead of her. If she died prematurely, it would be from stress. “Dover would have been convicted of attempted murder if they hadn’t tacked on the assault charge.”

      Prosecutors frequently filed a number of counts, all representative of the same crime, just with varying degrees of punishment. The reasoning was if the jury didn’t find sufficient evidence to convict on one count, they might convict on the other. Anything was better than an acquittal. “Dover is a linebacker at Ventura High,” Carolyn continued. “His body is a deadly weapon. He beat Baxter to a pulp. He bit off her nipples, for Christ’s sake. He demolished her face. To look even halfway normal, she’ll have to go through years of plastic surgery. The jury should have convicted on the GBI charge.” GBI was great bodily injury, and served as an enhancement to extend the term of imprisonment.

      “Don’t you believe the victim carries some of the responsibility?” Veronica said, swinging her leg. “Maybe none of this would have happened if he hadn’t tricked the defendant into believing he was a girl. I mean, it’s not like I think Baxter deserved to get the shit kicked out of him. I just don’t see how sending Dover to prison will accomplish anything. His grades are excellent. He goes to church every Sunday, even sings in the choir. You should read the stack of glowing letters people sent me about him. A year in custody at the local level and a ten-thousand-dollar fine isn’t exactly a walk in the park, Carolyn. He’s already lost his football scholarship. Send him to prison and he’ll come out a hardened criminal. How’s that going to benefit society?”

      “It’s called justice,” Carolyn said. “Maybe in prison Mr. Dover will find out how it feels to be violently sodomized.”

      “Yeah, sure,” Veronica said. “What was Baxter doing in an alley behind a bar in a ten-inch skirt? He was a prostitute, Carolyn. Isn’t it obvious? It was to the jury.”

      Carolyn was inundated with the details of every crime that passed through the system. She had to know as much about the case as the investigating officer. That meant reviewing police reports, trial transcripts, evidence. After the probation officers conducted their investigations and made their recommendations as to an appropriate sentence, they then had to conference the case with Carolyn to get her approval. She felt like a computer about to run out of memory. She had to shove things to the back of her mind just so she could answer a question.

      This particular case was controversial in a variety of ways. Brett Dover was white; the victim was black. Ten members of the jury had been not only men, but Caucasian. They probably perceived Baxter to be a twisted pervert who’d enticed a clean-cut young white boy into engaging in sex. The facts clearly refuted such an assumption. The case made Carolyn’s blood boil.

      She wouldn’t be having this discussion with Veronica if the crime wasn’t what they referred to as a wobbler. Section 245 of the California Penal Code allowed the court to sentence the defendant to serve a year in the local jail, or two, three, or four years in a state prison facility. The Judicial Council in San Francisco had developed specific rules that were to be applied to determine if the interest of justice would be best served by one sentence or the other.

      “Don’t you understand?” Carolyn argued, slapping back in her chair. “Whether the victim was male or female doesn’t matter. Patricia Baxter is only a few months past her nineteenth birthday. When her sex organs didn’t develop normally, her mother made the decision to raise her as a girl. Granted, this may have been a poor decision, but Patricia wasn’t the one who made it. She’d never had sex with anyone, male or female. Her mother was saving money for a sex change. Regardless, the medical report showed significant injuries from a violent sexual assault. The jury simply chose to ignore it because of the circumstances.” She paused and sucked in a breath. “So what if she was hanging around a nightclub in a short skirt? Would you feel the same if something like this happened to Jude?”

      “Hey,” Veronica said, pushing herself to her feet, “if you want to trump me on this one, go right ahead. You’re the boss now. No one cares what I think.”

      “You know I respect your opinion,” Carolyn told her. “I have to call the cases as I see them, Veronica. This was a brutal attack that resulted in great bodily injury. Circumstances in aggravation clearly exist and support the maximum term of four years in prison. I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to rewrite the report and submit it under those conditions.”

      “Can I go now?” Veronica said, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “I have to track down a probationer.”

      “Which one?”

      “Phillip Bramson.”

      “Is he in violation?” Carolyn asked, hating it that her investigators had to supervise people because of the overflow in field services.

      “I called the place where he works yesterday and they haven’t seen him in over a week. My guess is he’s using again. I left a message on his cell phone. He didn’t check in, so I’m going to try to track him down today.”

      The details of Bramson’s case were beginning to surface in Carolyn’s mind. “Doesn’t he have a suspended sentence?”

      “Yep,” Veronica said. “He doesn’t get to pass go or collect his two hundred dollars. If he tests dirty, all I have to do is put him on the next bus to prison.”

      Because of the overcrowding in the state prisons, judges were utilizing suspended sentences more often. “I’m going to get these supervision cases off your back,” she told her. “I’ll dump them on one of the new people. It was a mistake to assign them to you in the first place.”

      “I could manage if I didn’t have to rewrite reports.”

      Carolyn was upset that her friend was taking things personally. She could understand Veronica’s jealousy over her promotion. They’d been on the job for almost the same amount of time. What Veronica didn’t factor in was all the time she’d taken off on maternity leave, as well as management’s belief that a woman with four children might not be able to meet the demands of the position.

      Carolyn had also made a name for herself as an interrogator, and had years of experiencing assisting Brad Preston, the former supervisor of the unit. “Your dress is at my house. Are you still going to be my maid of honor?”

      “I guess,” Veronica said, shrugging.

      “Please, sit back down,” Carolyn said, gesturing toward the chair. When Veronica settled herself in the seat again, she noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She’d always been an earthy type, but lately she’d stopped wearing makeup. Something was bothering her. She should have noticed it before now. “I’ve been so busy, we haven’t had much time to talk outside of work,” she said. “Marcus and I should have got married by a justice of the peace. I never thought this wedding would turn into such a big production. How are things with Drew and the kids?”

      “Fine,” Veronica said, still miffed.

      “Look,” Carolyn said, folding her arms on top of her desk, “we promised we wouldn’t let my promotion come between us. Let’s go to lunch one day this week.” She glanced at her calendar. “Friday works for me. How about you?”

      Veronica stood, ignoring her question. “You’re probably right about Brett Dover. After what happened last year, I’ve become more sympathetic toward people who make mistakes.”

      Carolyn knew what she was referring to, but she also knew this wasn’t the time or place to discuss it. Both of her lines were ringing. Her assistant, Rachel Mitchell, would pick up one of them. She reached over and grabbed the other. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” she said, placing the caller on hold so they could firm up their lunch date. When she turned back around, though, Veronica had already slipped out of the office.

      Driving

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