About the Book:
When a homeless war veteran is beaten to death by the police, stormy protests ensue, engulfing a small New Jersey town. Soon after, three cops are gunned down.
A multi-state manhunt is underway for a cop killer on the loose. And Dr. Tessa Thorpe, a veteran's counselor, is caught up in the chase.
Donald Darfield, an African-American Iraqi war vet, war-time buddy of the beaten man, and one of Tessa's patients, is holed up in a mountain cabin. Tessa, acting on instinct, sets off to find him, but the swarm of law enforcement officers gets there first, leading to Darfield's dramatic capture.
Now, the only people separating him from the lethal needle of state justice are Tessa and ageing blind lawyer, Nathaniel Bodine. Can they untangle the web tightening around Darfield in time, when the press and the justice system are baying for revenge?
Book Links:
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WINNER OF THREE AWARDS
2019 AMERICAN FICTION AWARD
NATIONAL INDIE EXCELLENCY AWARD - Best Legal Thriller OF 2019
SILVER MEDAL WINNER 2019 READERS' FAVORITES AWARDS
Chosen by Wiki.ezvid.com among their list of 10 Gripping and Intelligent Legal Thrillers
The courtroom scenes are wonderfully written... the characters are well described and the author paints a picture of each in the mind of the reader... Strong plot, strong characters and a strong writing style that I really enjoyed. This one is a definite "thumbs-up." Strongly recommend! I look forward to reading additional works by N. Lombardi, Jr.
Kim M Aalaie, Author's Den
One of my favorite suspense novels of the year. It will make you question the legal system.
The Eclectic Review
The courtroom action is excellent, trimmed to the most gripping parts of the trial, with plenty of emotional impact...a fairly realistic portrayal of the way small-town US society works...a fast-moving story with plenty of dramatic moments, and a big twist in the final pages.
Crime Review
Read an Excerpt:
What does voir dire mean?” Penny asked out of the blue.
“The judge said
something about…”
“It means that I and the prosecutor
get to question each prospective juror directly.
Only the judge has that authority, we
lawyers have to ask permission to do so.”
They entered the visitation room, a cramped stuffy space bounded by the same pea-green walls, with a wooden table and straight-backed wooden chairs in the middle of the room. It was dimly lit and windowless. They found Darfield already standing
by the table, and after greetings,
along with hugs on the part of Tessa and Penny, they all sat down.
“I think it’s time I made a proper introduction,” Emily Bodine said. She smiled appealingly. She was a comely woman of about
thirty, with honey-brown hair combed sensually
around her glossy oval
face and down to her shoulders,
and possessing jaunty blue eyes, a cute button nose, and alluring lips. She wore a brown lawyerly, Chanel-style pants suit. “You already know
I’m Nat’s daughter
and his co-counsel.”
“Not as flamboyant as me, but she gets the job
done,” Bodine put in.
“Thanks, Dad. Closest thing to a complement
that I’ll ever get
from him,” she told the others with a fleeting grin before getting
down to business. “Today was the formal arraignment,
and
now we are entering the discovery phase.”
“What’s that mean, exactly?” Darfield wanted to know.
“It means that the State has to turn over all its evidence to us including a list of
witnesses they intend
to call, the
exhibits they intend to admit, things like that…so we can prepare our case. And
we have to do likewise.”
“When is the trial going to be?” Tessa asked, getting
to the issue that was a priority on her mind.
“Yeah, I’d like to know that, too,” Darfield said.
“Well, I don’t expect before the end of the year. We have the holidays coming up. It has to be within one hundred and twenty
days, you heard the judge. Maybe sometime
in February.”
Tessa was upset. “February!
And Donald will be locked up until then?”
Bodine intervened. “Well, it’s like six of one and half dozen of the other. We’ll at least get sufficient time to prepare. It could have been worse if we waived the right to a speedy trial. Could have been
a year or
more because the State’s
got a weak case
and they’d use that time to bone it up.”
Darfield patted her arm. “Don’t worry, Tessa, I can make it all right.”
Bodine continued. “As Emily already mentioned,
this is the
discovery phase, so the more time the better. You see, most prosecutors play this disgusting game in collusion with the
police, to take their time with the paperwork
and to withhold things until we have to file motions repeatedly
complaining to the judge to get hold of what they got, even though by law we
are
one hundred percent entitled to it. Oh, yeah, by the way, you got a source of funds?”
Tessa backed off, and sort of shriveled up. “We assumed you were working pro bono.”
“Well I am, but that means I’m only waiving my fees. There are
still expenses to pay; you don’t expect me
to
dig into my own pockets for those, do you?”
“What expenses?”
Emily explained. “Phone calls, photocopying, transport,
investigation costs…”
“Investigation?”
“Yes, that’s a must if we’re going to trial. And then there’s the
experts.”
“Experts?”
The
elder Bodine once again took the reins.
“Look, they don’t have any evidence that Donald killed those three men. They need eyewitnesses, and they don’t have any. And the only forensic evidence is going to be based on ballistics. So they’re going to get
some expert, who works for the government of New Jersey and who is loyal to the prosecution, and get him in the witness stand and
give the jury a whole mumbo-jumbo about how Donald’s weapon is tied to the bullets
they found. Except it’s gonna be
bullshit. But the
jury
will eat it up; even if they don’t
understand what he’s saying, ‘cause he’s an expert, and if we rely just on my cross-examination, me, a lil ol’ lawyer, a blind one at that, trying
to rip apart his testimony,
it always appears as a lack of respect when I attack his credibility. I mean he’s the expert, ain’t he? That’s why we need our own expert to show up the other guy, and let me tell you, they don’t come cheap.”
“We’ll do a fund-raising,” Penny said. “How much will we need?
“Shoot for a hundred thousand,”
Bodine advised. “Shit!” Darfield blurted.
“There is something that we must consider right from the
start,” Emily said. “This case hinges on jury sentiment.
There’s nothing else when you come right down to it. And that’s not in our favor. Asarn County is ninety-percent white and is very conservative, as
well
as generally
supportive
of their
local police.”
“I thought I saw a few people outside holding signs,” Penny said.
“I think they were supportive of Donald.”
“That’s the last thing we want!” Bodine remonstrated loudly, banging his cane on the floor.
The door opened and a uniformed
jailer appeared. “Is there a problem in here?”
“No
officer, I was just making a point.”
“Well, could you make it a little more quietly,
please?” “Yeah, now shut the door.”
The guard shot Bodine a harsh glance before closing
the door. “Little pipsqueak.”
He pointed
his cane
toward the
far corner, where a camera
was
suspended close
to the
ceiling. “They can see everything going on—closed-circuit television. Can’t hear us though… He damn well knew there wasn’t any problem, just wanted to assert the little authority
he has…now, as
I was saying…any protesters showing up here are likely to be outsiders with a political
agenda. The local community is still in shock over those cold-blooded murders; they’ve already forgotten the original
incident, Felson’s
beating, and
they’ll consider such shenanigans as insensitive liberal nonsense…and if the jury should be exposed to these types of demonstrations,
they’ll turn against us.”
“You have to realize,”
Emily broke in, “that this is all about
assigning blame. Three men are dead and someone has to be held responsible. They can’t just let it hang in the air.”
“What about my alibi?” Darfield shot in.
Bodine turned his head in the general direction of Darfield’s voice. “I sent someone down there, and we’ll get his report soon.” “What about this judge?” Darfield asked. “Is he going to be
the
same one for the trial? Looks like a mean sucker.”
“Good question, Donald,” Bodine replied. “I would say yes, most assuredly. He’s an elected judge, and this is an election year.
“Is that good or bad?” Penny asked. “Not good.”
“There’s been a study done,” Emily said, “that shows that elected judges tend
to have more convictions and
give
out stiffer
penalties during their election
years.”
“And,” Bodine added, “they usually run on a platform
of being tough on crime. Last campaign, Tupelo had as his slogan, Vote for Judge Tupelo, ‘cause he just don’t let ‘em go. So the DA already has one up on us, he’s got the judge. But I have a way to put Tupelo on a leash. You see, there’s
one thing a judge fears, and that
is having their
verdicts
or their decisions overturned
by either an Appeals Court, or worse, the Supreme Court. Makes ‘em
look bad. And I’ll be threatening him with that from the
get-go.”
“I noticed they dropped some of the charges,” Tessa said. “Surely that’s a good sign.”
“No, not really,” Bodine rebutted. “The police always overdo it,
then wait for the DA to choose which of them they’re gonna run with.
In this case, it
looks like they want to
concentrate their case on the most serious charges, and it also shows their confidence in
getting a conviction. If they weren’t,
they would have kept all those charges hoping for at least some of them to stick.” He addressed Darfield. “Make no mistake about it, son, you’re going to end up doing time for something. If you get acquitted, they’re
going to bring you up again on reckless endangerment, for sure. And that reminds me, if that’s what happens, we can rely on your PTSD as mitigating circumstances, but NOT, I repeat
NOT for this case. The prosecution will no doubt bring that up, but for our part, we’re going to downplay
that as much as possible.” Bodine cleared his throat, obviously dry from all this
talking. “Now there’s
one more thing before I go. This matter of
isolation. My hunch is that they’re going to keep you in the
same cell, but just add a bunkmate. And he’ll be the snitch. Do whatever you can to keep him away from you. They won’t put you in the regular bullpen, because there’s eight guys sharing a single area, and all eight would have to corroborate each other,
you get me?” Bodine didn’t wait for an answer, “Otherwise I can call the others to the stand who would testify
they didn’t hear
shit. But if the State does what I just said, stick him in alone with you, it’s more work for me because without witnesses to
contradict him, I’ll have to spend some effort at tearing up the
little rat on the stand.”
Tessa sat upright and put both hands on the table. “What
about this sequestering of the jury. I noticed you were quite
upset.”
“First of all, we’re gonna be restricted
when it comes to jury
selection. Some of the most sympathetic won’t be able to do it,
for example single mothers, those who might need medical monitoring, people who cannot be away
for a
long time… but what I’m really concerned about is that they’ll hasten
deliberation, come to a judgment too quick ‘cause they’re fed up
being treated like prisoners, which, mark my word, that’s
how they’ll be treated. Now some of them may resent the State because of that, but some might feel some bond with the State
because they’re the ones taking care of them. Remember,
that in the trial proceedings
the
State goes first, they can take
their time, but it’s gonna force us to rush a bit
because by that time the
jury members are getting unhappy living the way they’re living. If we want to go meticulously about our case, then the jury will
blame us for taking
too long and prolonging their suffering.
Now, is there anything else before Emily and I take our leave?”
“When will you come back?” Darfield
asked. “We’ll be back by the end of the week.”
About the Author:
N. Lombardi Jr, the N for Nicholas, has spent over half his life in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, working as a groundwater geologist. Nick can speak five languages: Swahili, Thai, Lao, Chinese, and Khmer (Cambodian).
In 1997, while visiting Lao People's Democratic Republic, he witnessed the remnants of a secret war that had been waged for nine years, among which were children wounded from leftover cluster bombs. Driven by what he saw, he worked on The Plain of Jars for the next eight years.
Nick maintains a website with content that spans most aspects of the novel: The Secret War, Laotian culture, Buddhism etc.
His second novel, Journey Towards a Falling Sun, is set in the wild frontier of northern Kenya.
His latest novel, Justice Gone was inspired by the fatal beating of a homeless man by police.
Nick now lives in Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Follow the Author:
Website * Goodreads * Amazon
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