A Good Mother

voice, “May it please you, Judge. I have known this young lady many, many years. I was the priest at her communion. What happened, only God knows. It is not for me to judge. But I can say, sir, she is a good girl. All her life, she goes to church.” He pauses. “I know there has been great suffering and I do not take away from the pain of the brave soldier’s family, Mr. Travis Hollis. We pray for them.” He nods once, as if to himself. “We pray for them.” He turns, gestures toward the silent bundle in the car seat. “But there is also an innocent child in need of her mother. And I know this mother her whole life, and she is a good girl.” He nods again. “Thank you, sir.”
There is a long silence as the priest takes his seat. Luz moves her manacled hands to wipe clumsily at her eyes with the bottom of her jail-issue shirt.
They all wait while Judge Richards continues to write until he lifts his head again, fingers steepled under his chin. “I am going to set bail.” One of the church members whispers in the ear of Luz’s grandmother, who claps her hands together and says something in Spanish about Jesus. The priest puts a hushing hand on her arm. Abby watches as Luz’s shoulders sag in relief, her head bent nearly to the tabletop.
“Mrs. Rivera Hollis will be fitted with an electronic ankle monitoring bracelet to be worn at all times. Following her release, she will be confined to her grandmother’s house except for legal visits, doctor’s appointments, and church.”
Judge Richards turns his gaze on Luz. “Mrs. Rivera Hollis, if you attempt to flee the jurisdiction, your grandmother will lose her home. And you may well lose custody of your daughter. Do you understand?”
Luz whispers, “Yes.”
“Alright, that should take care of the flight risk.” Judge Richards taps his pen on his legal pad. “As to danger, the nature of the crime is violent and disturbing. There was, as Ms. Gooden pointed out, the use of extreme force. But we are talking about violence between a husband and wife. A young mother with no criminal history—not as an adult, in any event. We don’t know what happened when she was a juvenile. I know that there is a presumption in favor of detention. But based on what I’ve heard today, I think Ms. Rosenberg has overcome it. I just don’t see anything here that shows the defendant poses a danger to anyone else.”
Judge Richards pauses. “There’s one more thing. The publicity around all of this—” he gestures toward the press gaggle “—is only going to accelerate. But I am not going to let either side throw gas on the fire by trying this case in the media. The attorneys and their respective legal teams are prohibited from speaking to the press. A fair trial is more important than your fifteen minutes of fame. Understood?” Here, he looks meaningfully at Abby.
Abby smiles back as if this were a compliment, rather than a not-so-subtle dig. And the gag order doesn’t seem like a bad idea, either. Reporters tended to give prosecutors—rather than her clients—the benefit of the doubt, printing their public pronouncements uncritically and lending them the imprimatur of truth. Depriving Shauna of that megaphone was a good thing.
“Alright. Once the appropriate documents are filed with the court, the defendant shall be released.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Abby turns behind her to look at the furiously scribbling journalists, the wave of smiles spreading across the mostly Spanish-speaking congregation as the news is translated. “There is one more item I would like to address, if the court is amenable.”
Judge Richards inclines his head.
“Well—” Abby looks at Jared “—I am hoping that the marshal will allow my client to spend some time nursing her daughter in the witness room following the conclusion of these proceedings.”
Jared stands, his faced flushed. Whether it’s from anger or embarrassment, Abby can’t tell. “Your Honor, that’s not part of our protocol. We’re law enforcement officers, not—” He stops, out of words. “It’s just not appropriate, sir.”
“Your Honor,” Abby interjects, “there are engorgement issues here, which can be quite serious. Infection of the milk ducts—”
Now Judge Richards is flushing. “Yes, alright.” He looks at Jared. “Please have one of your female colleagues escort the defendant and her baby to the witness room.” He turns back to Abby. “Anything else?” His expression makes it clear there had better not be.
“No, Your Honor. And thank you for understanding.” Abby smiles sweetly.
Shauna stands. “Your Honor, the government is seeking a postponement of the arraignment on formal charges at this time.”
Judge Richards raises his eyebrows.
“It is possible that this case could resolve without the need for a trial, if the two sides are permitted time to reach an agreement.”
A plea offer. A bit early for that, Abby thinks, particularly after Shauna has gone to great lengths to denounce Luz as a stone-cold killer. But clearly, that had been an opening bid. First-degree murder was a typical government overreach designed to extract an agreement to something nearly but not quite so bad. And Shauna may have real problems. No prosecutor has ever invoked the Military Extraterritorial Jurisdiction Act since it was passed six years ago, in part because it is so logistically difficult to prosecute a crime that took place in a different part of the world.
“Ms. Rosenberg?”
Abby pauses for a moment. Luz will be free on bail. Waiving her right to a speedy trial within seventy days will cost little—no doubt whomever takes over the case when she goes on leave would have to ask for a continuance anyway; it’s just too difficult to get ready in that amount of time, particularly when most of the witnesses are overseas.
Suddenly, it dawns on her. She may not have to give up this case after all. Paul had asked her to do the bail hearing for exactly the reason Shauna had said, with the understanding that