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A DRUNK DRIVING CASE IS ONLY A DRUNK DRIVING CASE... UNTIL SOMEONE DIES
An Audi sports car, speeding in the wrong lane, forces an oncoming van off the road. The van bursts into flames, killing all nine occupants...eight of them children.
Criminal defense attorney Harrison J. Walker, known simply as Jaywalker, is trying to keep his nose clean while serving a three-year suspension. But when a woman seduces him into representing the "Audi Assassin," a man who also happens to be her husband, things get messy.
Struggling with the moral issues surrounding this case, Jaywalker tries to stay focused on his goal--limiting the damage to his client by exposing the legal system's hypocrisy regarding drunk driving. But when he rounds a blind corner in the case, he collides with a truth that could turn his entire defense into disaster.
- Sales Rank: #1248272 in eBooks
- Published on: 2012-10-15
- Released on: 2012-10-15
- Format: Kindle eBook
About the Author
Joseph Teller was born and raised in New York City. After graduating from law school, he spent three years working undercover for the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, and the next 35 years as a criminal defence attorney. Teller lives in New York with his wife.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
"So," she said, raising herself onto one elbow, just high enough off the bed to reveal a single nipple, still visibly hard. "What do you do for a living, when you're not busy knocking people down?"
She was Amanda. At least that was as much of a name as he'd gotten out of her over the hour and twenty minutes since he'd literally knocked her to the ground by being overly aggressive with a sticking revolving door at the Forty-second Street Public Library. Not that all of their time together since that moment had been devoted to small talk, or any other kind of talk, for that matter. Certainly not the last twenty minutes, anyway.
"I'm a lawyer," said Jaywalker. "Sort of."
"Sort of?"
"I'm not practicing these days," he explained.
"What happened?" she asked. "You get burned out?"
"No," he said, "more like thrown out. I'm serving a three-year suspension."
"What for?"
"Oh, various things. Cutting corners. Breaking silly rules. Taking risks. Pissing off stupid judges. The usual stuff."
"They suspend you for those things?"
"It seems so." He left it at that. He didn't feel any particular need to tell her about the juiciest charge of all, that he'd managed to get caught by a security camera in one of the stairwells of the courthouse, accepting—or at least not exactly fending off—an impromptu expression of heartfelt thanks from an accused prostitute for whom he'd just won a hard-fought acquittal.
"What did you say your name was?" she asked.
"I didn't. But it's Jaywalker."
It wasn't just a case of tit for tat, his withholding part of his name because she had. The single name was all he had, actually. Harrison J. Walker had years ago elided into Harrison Jaywalker, and not too long after that, the Harrison part had disappeared altogether. So for years now, he'd been known to just about everyone simply as Jaywalker.
"You're that guy!" exclaimed Amanda, suddenly and self-consciously covering up her wayward nipple with a pillow. "I knew you looked familiar. I saw you on Page Six. You were dating that…that billionaire heiress murderer!"
Jaywalker winced painfully. Three years ago, had someone asked him to describe his own personal vision of what hell might be like, he might well have replied, "Showing up on the Entertainment Channel," or "Landing on Page Six of the New York Post." And thanks to a brief, torrid and not-so-discreet romance with a client named Samara Tannenbaum, he'd managed to accomplish not one but both of those distinctions, and in the short space of a single week.
"Yup," he acknowledged meekly now, "that would be me."
Amanda laughed out loud and threw her head back, her stylishly short blond hair framing her face, in what could easily have been a fashion model's pose. In the process, both of her breasts came completely free of the sheets, causing a decided swelling in Jaywalker's appreciation of her.
"So tell me, mister famous lawyer man," she said. "How much do you charge for a drunk-driving case?"
"I don't," said Jaywalker. "I'm suspended, remember?"
"Right, but for how much longer?"
Jaywalker shrugged. "I don't know, seven months, maybe eight." The fact was, he hadn't exactly been counting the days. If anything, he'd lately been giving some serious consideration to "re-upping" for another three years. Although even as he'd been enjoying his estrangement from the legal profession, his checking account balance was rapidly approaching zero, making such a choice problematic.
"And if you weren't suspended?"
He shrugged again. "I don't know. I used to get twenty-five hundred, thirty-five hundred, something like that." And in spite of everything, he found himself already contemplating the variables, just as he used to do. First of all, it would depend on whether they were talking about a plea or a trial. After that, where the case was. A D.W.I. in Manhattan, the Bronx or Brooklyn was no big deal. If there'd been a blood-alcohol test and Amanda's reading hadn't been too high, there was a good chance he could get her a plea to driving while impaired, maybe even a reckless. A couple of appearances, and the case would be done. Queens and Staten Island tended to be a bit tougher. And as you worked your way out into the neighboring counties—West-chester, Nassau and Suffolk, where there was a lower volume of cases—the D.A.s got noticeably more hard-assed and could afford to insist upon a plea to the full charge. Not that it mattered all that much, though. What they were talking about here was a fine, a license suspension, or at very worst a revocation, a court-ordered one-day safe-driving course and a substantial increase in her insurance premiums. In other words, a slap on the wrist and a smack on the wallet.
"Where were you arrested?" he asked her. "And did you take a test?" He couldn't help himself.
"Oh, no," said Amanda, shaking her head from side to side, with the inevitable ripple effect it caused to the, uh, rest of her. "It's not me."
"Oh?" said Jaywalker. "So who are we talking about?"
"My husband."
Jaywalker sat up, reflexively reaching around for his pants. His level of appreciation had suddenly shrunk dramatically. Funny how that happened.
"Don't worry," said Amanda. "It's not like he's about to walk in on us or anything."
"How do you know?"
"Because he's in jail, on five million dollars' bail. That's how."
Jaywalker relaxed ever so slightly. "Five million dollars," he echoed. "It must have been a very bad D.W.I."
"It was," said Amanda. "Nine people died."
Which, of course, immediately changed everything.
A drunk-driving case is only a drunk-driving case. Until someone dies. When that happens, it blossoms into a vehicular homicide. When nine someones die, it can become a full-blown murder case, especially when the victims are incinerated after the van in which they're riding gets forced off the road, flips three times and explodes.
Jaywalker knew the case. Who didn't? It had led off the evening news, even made the front page of his beloved New York Times, about three weeks ago. The driver of a passenger van had been literally run off the road and down a steep embankment by an oncoming Audi sports car speeding in the wrong lane. It had happened just north of Congers, New York, right before Route 303 ended and joined up with Route 9W A witness in a pickup truck had seen the whole thing. He'd thought briefly about giving chase to the Audi as it sped off, before deciding instead to stop to see what he could do for the victims.
The answer was nothing.
Within minutes, the van had burned so badly that the newspaper photographs of it revealed only a portion of the lettering painted onto its side. All that remained visible was —MAZ—ESHI—, a fact that quickly gave birth to a rumor that the occupants had been Muslim terrorists who'd accidentally blown themselves up before reaching their intended target. That rumor was soon replaced by another one, that the van had been overcrowded because it had been carrying migrant Mexican farmworkers, who were no doubt illegal aliens.
The right-wing radio talk-show hosts lost no time in picking up the story. To them and their call-in listeners, it didn't seem to matter too much whether the dead were terrorists or illegals; whichever turned out to be the case, the consensus was that they'd pretty much deserved their fate. "Good for that Audi guy!" said one caller. "Maybe that'll teach them criminal alien bombers a lesson!" Before the hour was up, one host was referring to the driver of the car as the "Audi Avenger."
It was only after emergency responders had succeeded in putting out the fire and extricating the bodies that the grim truth was discovered. Eight of the nine dead, the van's driver being the sole exception, were young children whose ages would eventually be determined to range from six to eleven. All had been students at the Ramaz Yeshiva, a Jewish school located fifteen miles from the site of the impact. They'd been heading to a groundbreaking ceremony for a new synagogue over in Haverstraw.
Just like that, the Audi Avenger became the Audi Assassin.
If the driver of the pickup truck had been unable to help the occupants of the van, at least he'd accomplished something that day. Turning to watch the fleeing Audi, he'd managed to not only note the model but read its license plate, and although he'd forget the complete registration before being interviewed by state troopers, he'd distinctly remembered that it ended with the numbers 724. That happened to be his wife's birth date, July 24.
The following day, even as computers were busy searching data files for all Audis and Audi look-alikes in the tristate area with registrations ending in 724— there were only six, it would turn out—a man by the name of Carter Drake III, accompanied by his business attorney, turned himself in to the New York State Police in Nyack. Drake was forty-four and had no prior arrests. That said, he'd allowed his driver's license to lapse over parking tickets he'd accumulated several years ago, along with the insurance on the Audi.
Congers is a one-stoplight village in Rockland County, a half an hour north of the George Washington Bridge, on the Jersey side. The county seat is New City, which means that all felonies end up there for trial. But New City has another distinction. It happens to be home to one of the largest concentrations of Orthodox-Jewish populations in the western hemisphere.
Like his wife, Amanda, Carter Drake happened to be blond, good-looking and decidedly not Jewish, let alone orthodox.
Not exactly the best fit for New City.
"So," said Amanda, "will you represent my husband? I'm pretty sure we can afford your fee."
Jaywalker was pretty sure that was an understatement. "You're forgetting my suspension," he reminded her.
"No, I'm not," Amanda assured him. "You told me yourself you like to cut corners, break silly rules, take risks. What's a little suspension between friends? Besides which, doesn't it take months and months for a case to go to trial? By that time, you'll be relawyerized."
"Reinstated," Jaywalker corrected her.
"Whatever. And Carter's no dummy. He can always get sick or something, if the case needs to be slowed down. If you know what I mean."
Jaywalker nodded. Of course he knew what she meant. It was the kind of delaying tactic he himself had resorted to more than once. A bit devious, to be sure. But devious-ness had its place in Jaywalker's bag of tricks. So it certainly wasn't Amanda's suggestion that was bothering Jaywalker at the moment. Still, something was. And he decided it was the nagging feeling that he was being set up.
Because the thing was, long before their revolving-door encounter, Jaywalker had noticed that he was being followed. Not by a car; his ancient beat-up Mercury, the one he'd bought himself for six hundred dollars several years back as a reward for winning a brief but serious bout with the bottle, was rusting away in a parking lot over on Twelfth Avenue. No, on foot. Someone had been tailing him, lingering back in the shadows, walking when he walked, stopping when he stopped, crossing the street when he crossed.
Had it not been for his days as a DEA agent, it's likely Jaywalker never would have picked it up. But so many of his colleagues had been doing something wrong back then, whether that meant something as minor as a little bit of creative writing on the hours entered on their Daily Activity Logs, all the way up to outright stealing or selling the very narcotics they were paid to keep off the streets. Whatever it was, they were constantly checking for a tail, as they used to call it. Over time, Jaywalker had found himself gradually adopting their paranoia as his own, almost unconsciously looking over his shoulder as he walked and glancing in the rearview mirror as he drove. Even after he'd left the job, the habit had proved a hard one to kick, and now, years later, it still stayed with him to a certain extent.
So yesterday afternoon, when he thought he'd spotted someone eyeing him through sunglasses from outside the plate-glass window of the Korean grocery where he was buying pretzels, cheese and other essentials, he'd decided to conduct a little experiment. He'd proceeded to walk two full avenues out of his way, all the way from West End to Amsterdam, before abruptly stopping in the middle of the intersection, slapping his head in an exaggerated fashion as though he'd forgotten something and suddenly doubling back toward Broadway.
And he'd been right.
Somewhat to his surprise, it had turned out to be a woman, a thirtysomething blonde almost as tall as he was. Though it was an overcast day, she was wearing sunglasses. And as soon as he looked her way, she averted her glance, turned away and crossed the street, disappearing into the midafternoon crowd.
He'd looked for her again this morning and had actually been disappointed when he'd failed to spot her. But soon enough, there she was again. More careful this time, wearing a large hat pulled down over her forehead, hanging back a little farther, even following him from across the street at one point. But Jaywalker had tricks of his own. In order to get a better look at her, he'd stopped in front of a stationery store and pretended to study the items on display. In fact, he was able to angle himself so that in the reflection of the glass he could see her slow down and then stop on the opposite sidewalk, pretending to be looking into a shop herself. But it was unlikely: the shop she was staring into bore the name, PAYCHECKS CASHED, and she definitely didn't look like the type who needed her paycheck cashed.
He could have lost her right then, had he wanted to. But by that time he was curious. For starters, unlike his old DEA cronies, Jaywalker knew he wasn't doing anything wrong. He'd faithfully abided by the terms of his suspension. He'd given up his law office, which had never been more than a desk, a phone, an answering machine and a computer in a tenth-floor suite. He'd stayed away from 100 Centre Street, Foley Square and all the other courthouses of the city. He'd stopped giving out business cards, refrained from offering legal advice to the few friends and family members he had, and quickly corrected anyone who addressed him or referred to him as a lawyer, attorney, counselor-at-law, or anything else that suggested he was still practicing.
Most helpful customer reviews
9 of 10 people found the following review helpful.
Excellent legal thriller with plenty of twists and turns...
By Thomas Duff
From the Amazon Vine review program came an entertaining read... Depraved Indifference by Joseph Teller. This legal thriller uses Teller's Jaywalker character, but that meant little to me as I've not read any of Teller's prior books. That'll change after reading this one. Teller writes a tight and witty novel that's fun to read and has a number of unexpected twists at the end. And I didn't even get too bogged down in the personal crusade he soapboxes on here.
Harrison J. Walker, aka Jaywalker, is working off his disciplinary suspension from practicing law due to a "minor indiscretion" on his last case. A "chance" encounter brings him into *close* contact with one Amanda Drake, the wife of Clark Drake who is charged with nine counts of murder. He was driving drunk when he allegedly ran a van off the road, leading to the burning deaths of all the occupants, eight of which were children. Jaywalker knows the case will nearly be impossible to win, as the kids were Jewish and the case is being tried in a heavily Jewish community in New York. But his checkbook changes his mind when Amanda offers a $5000 retainer on the spot. No matter that he legally can't represent anyone quite yet. That's just a technicality until he can get reinstated and officially take the case over...
Clark is acknowledging that he had been drinking, but that he was far from drunk. The erratic driving was due to a hornet being trapped in the car, and he was trying to swat it with a rolled-up newspaper. It makes sense when you know that he is severely allergic to bee stings, but can Jaywalker convince a jury of that? The deeper he digs, the more Jaywalker is convinced that he's being played by Amanda, that there's a side of the whole story that isn't being told to anyone, much less him. As the case actually starts in front of the jury, new revelations are coming fast and furious, and Jaywalker has to figure out on the spot how best to play the new information. One mistake can mean the difference between his client's freedom or life behind bars.
It was quite easy to get into this novel. The Jaywalker character is irreverent and street-wise, and Teller's writing reflects that well. The story kept me hanging as to what piece of information wasn't being told. And even when I got to the end with the plot twist I expected, the action wasn't over. Also, while I normally get very impatient with novel writers that have some agenda to push, it didn't bother me here. He's pointing out that thousands of people drive drunk every day, and it's considered a "normal" crime. But if someone dies as a result of the same person driving drunk, it suddenly becomes an action characterized by "depraved indifference" to life. According to Teller, it's either *always* depraved indifference or it never is. You can't add a characteristic of motive based solely on outcome. While I may not agree emotionally with him, he does have a point...
Depraved Indifference was a great read and excellent entertainment. I'll definitely be going back to catch up on the earlier exploits of Jaywalker.
Disclosure:
Obtained From: Amazon Vine Review Program
Payment: Free
6 of 6 people found the following review helpful.
Didn't see the end coming
By Stephen Kalman
Nicely done. First person writing is often tedious and self serving. This author knows how to do it right. The pacing was excellent, the dialogue crisp, and the characters had enough depth to be interesting.
Early on, we find Jaywalker doing something he shouldn't, especially since he's coming off of a suspension for a tangentially related matter. All through the book, I was waiting for that shoe to drop, with a resounding thud, onto his head. This rather simple literary device added a bit of suspense as a sort of parallel plot.
There's another character we don't get to meet as early as we should, so again, a bit of suspense builds as we await his contributions to the plot.
And finally, at the end, there is a very interesting twist.
I'm sure others will say more about the plot, though I haven't read the other reviews (I write mine before reading the reviews of others). It is this reviewer's preference to avoid spoiling surprises. Be warned, if you do read other reviews you might lose some of the pleasure that this book carries.
One final note, there is a lot of law and procedure in the criminal trial that forms the heart of the story. It is handled with a light, deft touch. More to the point, it is extremely accurately done. (This reviewer is a lawyer).
Get this book. If you like good stories and police/courtroom procedurals, then you'll enjoy reading this well crafted story.
As for me, I'll be ordering this author's other books in a few minutes.
8 of 9 people found the following review helpful.
I'm glad I got this book. A fresh legal thriller!
By Bill Garrison
Always looking for new authors, I picked up Joseph Teller's DEPRAVED INDIFFERENCE through the Amazon Vine program. This is Teller's third legal thriller. In this novel, Harrison Jay Walker, or Jaywalker, is in the midst of serving a suspension for inappropriate conduct for a lawyer when the wealthy and beautiful Amanda Drake asks him to represent her husband Carter Drake in a murder trial. Carter was accused of murder when the car he was driving while drunk caused a wreck that killed eight children.
As I read, I wondered if Teller could sustain an entire novel on what seems to be a simple drunk driving case. He does so in part by the writing style. The book flows very easily in the point of view of Jaywalker and his quick wit. Also, Heller fills the pages full of interesting legal details and fast moving courtroom action.
Some the twists and turns are shocking, some not, but every page was well written. On the downside, while Jaywalker is witty and entertaining, Teller didn't really define him as a character. We learn things about him that seem to make him who he is, but a lot of it is just mentioned and never covered again. That's one reason why I really enjoyed the novel, but didn't get attached to any of the characters.
I definitely plan on reading the first two novels from Teller and hope he continues to publish well-written legal thrillers.
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