“Yes, counsel?”

“Unavailing. If the court would simply allow me adequate time to prepare my own defense, I think the results would be far more salutary.”

“If I may, your honor,” Drabble said, rising to his feet, “the State would oppose giving the defense additional time to fish around and see if they can come up with something better.”

“It’s not a matter of fishing around,” Christina insisted. More like praying for a miracle. “But in a case of this magnitude-”

“If I understand what you’re saying,” Judge Lacayo said, “you’re essentially asking for more time because Mr. Mahoney had a different defense style than you do. I’m sure you take great pride in your style, Ms. McCall, but if the defense has had adequate time to prepare-and this one has-I see no need to extend it. Furthermore, the speedy trial provisions of the Constitution mandate that we proceed.”

“But your honor-”

“If, on the other hand, as I suspect, you just want more time to see if you can dig up a better defense, it would be positively unfair to allow you more time. So if you have nothing else…”

Christina rifled through her notes. Where was that case? “Your honor, I would direct the court’s attention to State v. Harmon.” Thank goodness for Paula. Christina had found this case in her e-mail this morning, with the rest of Paula’s invaluable research. It was exactly what she needed.

“I know the case, counsel.”

“Then you know that the Harmon court established that in addition to the needs of the defense and the interests of fairness, public policy considerations should be examined when determining whether to grant a continuance.”

Judge Lacayo sat up at attention. “Are there public policy issues here, counsel?”

“Yes, sir. Needless to say, there has been an enormous amount of public interest in this case.” She glanced back to both sides of the gallery, making her point. “It’s more than just a murder case. In the eyes of many, it has taken on a symbolic mantle. It’s become about tolerance, diversity, and the effectiveness of the American criminal justice system. People are looking to this case, this courtroom, to give them a sense of resolution and, if I may say so, a sense of justice. It is important that we don’t fail them.”

Lacayo appeared to be listening intently. “Go on.”

“If I am required to proceed with haste, there will always be some who will say the result was tainted by the circumstances in which the defense was prepared and presented. In order to give people a sense of resolution, we must assure them that the trial was conducted in such a manner as to give the truth a full and fair opportunity to arise.”

“So what I hear you saying, counsel,” said Lacayo, inching forward, “is that in order to keep people from claiming your client was railroaded, I have to give you everything you want.”

Christina felt the prickly heat creeping up her collar. “I wouldn’t put it like that…”

“And how far does that go, Ms. McCall? I notice you’ve also filed a motion to suppress. Do I have to cave in on that one, too? In order to assuage the public need for resolution.”

“Your honor, equity always plays a larger role in continuance motions, and here-”

“No, I’m sorry, counsel.” He eased back into his black leather chair. “When you raised the public policy concerns, you had me going for a moment. But you have to realize there are many factors that favor going forward-principally an increasingly clogged criminal docket. Also, if I continue this case for three months, the jury will have to be dismissed and a new one impaneled. And for what? So you can appease the public? So you can develop a defense that’s more in your style? I’m sorry, Ms. McCall, but you just haven’t given me adequate grounds for a continuance. Motion denied.”

“But your honor, the needs of-”

He looked at her harshly. “Here in Cook County, Ms. McCall, when the judge says he’s ruled, it’s over. Move on.”

Christina reluctantly turned to the next page. That was by far her best shot-the motions to suppress evidence were major-league long shots.

After Tony Barovick’s body was found in the frat house, the Chicago PD put out an APB and began rounding up every member. They found Johnny and Brett, along with several other frat boys, at Remote Control, the bar where Tony had worked. A visual inspection showed that both Johnny and Brett had scraped knuckles and blood splatters on their clothing. They arrested the two and read them their rights. Johnny stayed cool for a while, but the police continued to needle him, hoping he would do exactly what he did-display some of the temper that would’ve been necessary to exact the punishment visited on Tony Barovick. He pushed the officers away, screaming, “Who the fuck cares what happened to that flaming faggot?”

It was not a confession, but to the jury, it would have the exact same effect.

“First of all, your honor, we move to strike from the prosecution’s witness list all those persons who overheard statements made by Johnny Christensen and Brett Mathers at the bar the night of the murder. Allowing them to repeat what was said by a third party is, by definition, hearsay.”

“We don’t disagree,” said Drabble, rising once again. “But it falls within acknowledged hearsay exceptions. The defendant’s statements are admissions against his interest. His partner’s statements are admissible because the declarant is obviously unavailable-being dead.”

“Hearsay exceptions are allowed at the court’s discretion,” Christina rejoined, “and should only be permitted where the circumstances suggest reliability. Here, there are no such assurances. The men were all drinking heavily. The two suspects were both puffing, trying to impress their friends.”

“By bragging about mercilessly beating a man,” Drabble added.

“The point is that nothing about this scenario suggests trustworthiness.”

Lacayo shook his head. “I’m sorry, counsel. Once again, I can’t agree with you. The statements combined with the close proximity in time to the murder suggest trustworthiness to me. The fact that they even knew a beating had taken place so soon after the event, only minutes after the body was found, suggests that the statements were truthful. And, frankly, if someone’s stupid enough to make remarks of that nature in a public place, they deserve to hear them repeated in court.”

“Pardon me, sir, but it sounds as if you’re punishing my client for being stupid.”

“No, ma’am. Life punishes the stupid. No need for the courts to get involved.”

Christina felt her knees weakening. She was bombing out here, and she damn well knew it. If she couldn’t do better than this, Johnny Christensen was a dead man.

She glanced over her shoulder to the front row of the gallery. Since her client hadn’t been released for this hearing, his mother-as the woman who had hired Christina-was the most important person in the room. Ellen Christensen sat with a remarkably stoic expression.

“Your honor,” Christina said, trying to pull herself together, “if I might direct your attention to one statement made by my client after he was taken into custodial arrest.”

“That’s the one we like to call ‘the confession,’ ” Drabble said.

Christina flashed him an evil look.

“You’re talking about the”-Lacayo cleared his throat, then spoke in lowered tones-“the ‘flaming faggot’ remark?”

“Yes, your honor. Contrary to being a confession, this statement isn’t even relevant to the crime. It doesn’t indicate what he did or did not do, only his… opinion regarding persons of different sexual preference. It should be excluded, since it is potentially damaging and not probative of the matter at issue.”

“I greatly disagree,” Drabble said. For the first time, his voice rose. “This statement is uniquely probative of one important fact-the defendant’s venomous hatred of homosexuals. This was a hate crime. And this statement evidences that hate more clearly than I could do in a thousand closing arguments.”