Читать книгу Mordialloc - James Maclean - Страница 28

The pre-trial hearing would be in a week. Floyd had argued, unsuccessfully, that they should try and adjourn for as long as possible. They should try to give old Frank enough time to do his thing. Max had advised the opposite. ‘In sensitive cases like this; justice is best served swiftly’.

Max should’ve, at least, entertained the idea. It was no secret there was also a lucrative football contract on the line. The regular season was hovering just beyond the horizon. If they could drag the court case out long enough maybe they’d tear Glen’s contract up through frustration. Unfortunately though, the friendly hand patting and paternal advice were long gone. They had been replaced by a show of indifference and distain. The rhetoric was becoming familiar. ‘If you’re not happy, find yourself another lawyer.’

Floyd was smart enough to realise Max’s attitude had less to do with his current predicament than the current predicament of that snake Gus. He was hardly in a position to advise his mother though. He was lucky to have a roof over his head. Now it was gone, he kind of missed the cold, dead fish.

And as if they didn’t have enough on their plate; Kenny’s father had also reengaged the services of the top end law firm. It was advising them to all plead guilty; take a deal. Floyd was still pleading ignorance, for the sake of his mother, but Kenny, by all accounts, had folded like a house of cards. Max was quick to get onboard. Max also added the provision of jail time being less than three months, the facility be minimum security, and he actually do as little work as humanly possible. If they got the judge on a good day, Max had reasoned with authority, he might suspend the sentence altogether.

Not wanting a drawn out, costly court case, the Department of Public Prosecution (DPP) had agreed. A month of prison time, followed by a three month home detention order with community service. It was only a matter of signing off on the paperwork and throwing themselves at the mercy of the court, but for one final hurdle. Lawyerless and representing himself, Bullet Bulowski was ready to roll the dice.

Kenny’s lawyer, with Max looking on, went to work on Bulowski for hours. He couldn’t be swayed. They walked him through the states evidence. They included the now damning testimony of Glen Harkin, and finished with the almost certainty of three years jail. It was a gang act, they assured him, there would be no leniency shown in sentencing.

Unfortunately for Kenny and Floyd, acceptance of the new proposal now had to be unanimous. After Glen turned, someone had to be held accountable. As their very disheartening legal team was constantly reminding them; somebody always has to pay.

Floyd was in mild shock, Kenny’s breathing had become so laboured it sounded like he was ‘giving birth’, but Bulowski was resolute.

‘It’s the principle. There’s no difference between home detention and three years in the big house,’ rationalised Bulowski. His smoke rings floated effortlessly in the direction of Kenny’s lawyer. ‘There’s only one day; today. We don’t know what’s coming around the bend. These muppets, sure as hell, don’t know either. I’m sorry you guys have to come along for the ride, but I’m no rapist, and I’m not taking any bloody deal!’

‘Oh, we know all right!’ fumed Kenny’s lawyer, the man’s seething thinly masked as the smoke rings impacted on the fabric of his $2000 suit. ‘This prick here, and his pathetic arrogance, are going to get you all hung!’

He stormed out. The door slammed. The silence was deafening.

‘Well I guess the meeting is over then,’ said Bulowski finally. He butted out his cigarette in the rim of an empty Coke can, and got to his feet.

Nobody else said a word.