“Considering he was potshotting my deputies, I’m not sure I object to his being in that condition.”

“But Joanne, I’ve got to be able to ask the guy basic questions in order to defend him.”

“Really?”

She said it with a smile but the point was taken. I shrugged and crouched down so we were on an even eye line.

“You’re right, I don’t think we’re talking about a trial here,” I said. “I’d be happy to listen to any offers.”

“Your client shot at an occupied sheriff’s car. The state is interested in sending a message on this one. We don’t like people doing that.”

She folded her arms to signal the state’s unwillingness to compromise on this. She was an attractive and athletically built woman. She drummed her fingers on one of her biceps and I couldn’t help but notice the red fingernail polish. As long as I could remember dealing with Joanne Giorgetti, her nails were always painted bloodred. She did more than represent the state. She represented cops who had been shot at, assaulted, ambushed and spit on. And she wanted the blood of every miscreant who had the bad luck to be prosecuted by her.

“I would argue that my client, panicked as he was by the coyotes, was shooting at the light on the car, not into the car. Your own documents say he was an expert marksman in the U.S. Army. If he wanted to shoot the deputy, he could have. But he didn’t.”

“He was discharged from the army fifteen years ago, Mickey.”

“Right, but some skills never go away. Like riding a bike.”

“Well, that’s an argument you could surely make to the jury.”

My knees were about to give out. I reached over to one of the chairs at the defense table, wheeled it over and sat down.

“Sure, I can make that argument but it is probably in the state’s best interest to bring this case to a close, get Mr. Wyms off the street and into some sort of therapy that will help prevent this from ever happening again. So what do you say? Should we go off into a corner someplace and work this out, or go at it in front of a jury?”

She thought for a moment before responding. It was the classic prosecutor’s dilemma. It was a case she could easily win. She had to decide whether to pad her stats or do what might be the right thing.

“As long as I get to pick the corner.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Okay, I won’t oppose a continuance if you make the motion.”

“Sounds good, Joanne. What about the drug therapy?”

“I don’t want this guy acting out again, even in Men’s Central.”