ONE "Back from the dead, are you, Ms. Cooper?" the judge bellowed from the bench as I let the courtroom door close behind me. I forced a smile and walked to the front row, taking a seat next to Helen Wyler, one of the young lawyers in the Sex Crimes Prosecution Unit. "What''s the matter?" Judge Corliss asked. "Cat got your tongue?" There were only twenty people in the large room. There was the law secretary assigned to Corliss, who was sitting beside him, scribbling notes in her log; the clerk, who was at his desk to the left, pretending to fumble with the day''s calendar; the stenographer, who had rested his hands at his side when Corliss started to yell; a defense attorney sitting at counsel table, looking over his shoulder and laughing at me; and the defendant himself-on trial for first-degree rape-fixated on the pretty face of the young law secretary who was working with the judge. The others, except for the jury and my colleague, Helen, had probably been corralled by the defense attorney to pretend to be family members interested in the outcome of the trial. I raised my hands to my sides, palms up, and just shrugged at Corliss.
"Looks like I lose my bet, Alexandra," the judge said, standing up on his raised platform and pulling back his black gown-hands on his hips-expecting everyone would admire his fit torso and his bespoke shirt with monogrammed cuffs. "You''re going to cost me fifty bucks." "I''m so sorry, Alex," Helen said, leaning closer to me as she whispered. "I didn''t want to bother you on your first day back in the office, but Corliss is totally trying to steamroll over me and I don''t have the experience to stand up to him." "Pay attention to me," Corliss said to me. "Not your sidekick. Ms. Wyler will get it right one of these days, with or without your help.
" Now the defendant''s entourage was engaged, too, trying to figure out who I was and why the judge was spending time and energy on me. "Fifty large, Alexandra. I bet three of the other judges in the lunchroom you''d never set foot in this building again." I poked Helen in the side so that she would get to her feet and address Corliss from her proper place, within the well of the courtroom. She stood and pushed through the low wooden gate, taking her place at counsel table. "May I have ten minutes with Ms. Cooper?" she asked. The defendant-a serial rapist who specialized in attacking teenagers-put his head in his hands and groaned.
"You can have ten, Ms. Wyler," Corliss said, "so long as I get fifteen." "The witness room is empty, Your Honor," Helen said. "We''ll just go in there." "I''m first," Corliss said. He motioned to me with his forefinger, telling me to approach him so we could have a private conversation. "And you''ll stay right where you are, Ms. Wyler.
" I ignored his summons and walked to the prosecution table, which was stacked high with trial folders and papers. Helen stepped back briskly, as though moving away from an out-of-control car coming in her direction. "Why the silent treatment, Alexandra?" Corliss asked. I turned to the stenographer, who had recorded the testimony at several of my trials. "Lenny, let''s go on the record, please." "Who''s giving the orders in here? Somebody make you a judge while I wasn''t looking?" Corliss asked. "Lenny, why don''t you go help yourself to a cup of coffee?" When Lenny stood up to leave the room, I turned my back to the bench and started to retrace my steps. "Whoa, whoa!" Corliss said.
"Let''s slow this down, Alexandra." Raymond Santiago looked up, leaning over past his lawyer to check out the minor commotion. His right hand moved instinctively to his groin, where he seemed to like to keep it most of the time, when he wasn''t stalking his victims. What Santiago''s lawyer referred to as his client''s hypersexuality was likely to be on constant display for the jury. I swiveled again. "I''m happy to talk to you, Your Honor," I said. "I want everything we say to be on the record. That''s why I didn''t answer when you first called out to me.
" "Stick around, Lenny," Judge Corliss said, motioning to the stenographer to sit. "Ms. Cooper wants on the record, we''ll give her on the record. Like I was saying, she''s just back from-" "I wasn''t dead, Your Honor," I said, smiling at him. "Sorry to disappoint, but I wasn''t even on life support." The Honorable Bud Corliss liked to bully young assistants like Helen Wyler. He would shut down the stenographer and launch verbal arrows at the prosecutors, each one tipped with a poisonous comment about his or her skills. Sometimes, if his target was an attractive young woman, he''d add a remark about her anatomy.
Then, if she chose to complain to a superior about the comment, there were no traces of Corliss''s bad behavior in the transcript. "I guess you really dodged a bullet, in the most literal sense," he said, sitting in his high-back leather chair and adjusting his gold cuff links. "I mean, the night your late lamented boss was shot in the head just a few feet away from you-dodging that bullet." This was a conversation I didn''t want to have in front of strangers-no less a perp charged with seventeen counts of rape and aggravated sexual assault. "Strike that word ''lamented,''" Corliss said to Lenny, editing his own remarks. "Not everybody got broken up about the forced retirement of Paul Battaglia after a few too many terms in office, did they, Alexandra?" "The district attorney mentored me, Your Honor," I said. "He put me in charge of the Special Victims Bureau a dozen years ago. I had nothing but respect for the man.
" "Let me ask you something," he said, leaning forward and putting both elbows on his blotter. "I have a few questions about what happened that-" "Judge Corliss, this is neither the time nor place," I said. "You''ve got jurors waiting for the testimony to resume, my colleague is anxious to complete the People''s case by the end of the week, and the defendant-well ." "What about him?" "Mr. Santiago probably needs to get some medical attention for that itch in his groin he keeps scratching throughout our conversation," I said. "This might be a good time to give him a short restroom break and throw him some calamine lotion before I have Ms. Wyler add in a count of masturbating in a public place." "Good to know you haven''t lost your sense of humor, Alexandra," Corliss said as Santiago''s inexperienced court-appointed lawyer struggled to find grounds for an objection.
"Ten-minute break, ladies and gentlemen. Let''s clear the courtroom." Court officers handcuffed the prisoner and took him out to the holding pen that serviced the thirteenth-floor trial rooms. His hangers-on-impervious to my comments-wandered out into the large corridor that ran the entire length of the enormous building. I sat at counsel table with Helen Wyler. "What do you need?" "I''ve made a terrible mistake, Alex," she said. "I don''t think I''ll get my first two victims back here if Corliss declares a mistrial." "What have you done?" I asked.
"The fifteen-year-old who testified Friday-the one who was raped on the rooftop at Taft Houses?" Helen said. "Yes, I remember." I knew the case well. Helen had indicted it before my leave had started almost three months earlier-after an incident that was unrelated to the murder of the district attorney. "On cross this morning, she admitted texting me six or seven times before the trial began," Helen said, slouching lower in her chair. "Did she?" "Yeah. Yeah, she did." "But you didn''t turn the texts over to the defense?" I could see Corliss out of the corners of my eyes, pacing back and forth, trying to catch a fragment of our conversation.
"The texts weren''t significant to the case facts, Alex," Helen said to me, stopping to bite her lip. "Graciela was just asking if she had to see Santiago in the courtroom and about how terrified she was to be within twenty feet of him. That kind of stuff." The perp had grabbed the girl as she got off an elevator to go to her home in the projects, holding a knife to her neck to force her to the roof, where he raped her repeatedly for almost two hours. "That kind of stuff, as you call it," I said, as calmly as I could, "is still Rosario Material. The defense is entitled to every one of those texts, Helen. You kn.