LeMarcus has always been a very handsome man. He has a coffee-colored complexion and he’s gifted with a smile that can either draw you in or cut you down, depending on whether you’re friend or foe. In the years since we first met, he has added debonair to that description. Back in the day, he didn’t seem to care much about his appearance, which might have been because ADAs were paid just enough to cover their rent and food—stylish clothing was something to put off until we entered private practice. Today he’s decked out in a glen plaid three-piece number with a blue tie that captures the hue in the pattern to a T.

He greets me with a smile practiced for just such occasions. By rote, without considering whom he has for a client in this particular instance, he tells me that I need to answer “not guilty” when the judge asks for a plea. Before I can ask him anything, the presiding judge, Phillip Tomasso, does exactly that, shouting out just the one word: “Plea?”

Tomasso likely has a dozen cases to hear this morning. Apparently he’s not even going to allow the presence of an ADA accused of murdering another ADA to slow down his docket.

I say my line: “Not guilty.”

“Bail, Ms. Serpe?” Judge Tomasso says.

Silvia Serpe is the ADA handling today’s arraignment calendar. I know her, but not well. She hasn’t yet looked at me.

“Your Honor,” she says, “the People request that Ms. Goodwin be held without bail. As the court is I’m sure aware, the defendant is accused of a terrible crime. Lauren Wright, the chief of the District Attorney’s Special Victims Bureau, has been murdered. It’s important to send a message to the public that no favoritism is shown because the defendant has connections to the District Attorney’s office.”

LeMarcus offers the predictable counter. That the prosecution’s case is weak, that I have strong ties to the community, including a young son, that I not only have never before been accused of a crime, but have devoted my life to prosecuting criminals.

“If anyone—anyone—believes in the criminal justice system, it is Dana Goodwin. She is no risk of flight and certainly wants to be vindicated in a court of law,” LeMarcus says, his voice rising in that theatrical way he frequently adopts in court.

For the first time since I was brought before him, Judge Tomasso makes eye contact with me. I wish he hadn’t, for all I see in his expression is disgust. Then he takes a deep breath.

“One million or bond equivalent,” he says, and bangs his gavel.

After my hearing, I’m again handcuffed and then deposited back into lockup. The one bright spot is that I’m put in the group that’s transported to Rikers Island, the jail that houses defendants who are confined pending trial.