Mistaken Identity by Lisa Scottoline

grabbed her pen.
Anybody got a match? I’ll bring the hair spray. It’ll only take a minute.
    “You can seat the defendant with us, Officer,” Bennie said. “Right here.” She got up and pulled out the chair at counsel table next to Mary, who flipped a page in her legal pad quickly.
    “Excuse me,” Miller interrupted, pulling out the chair next to him. “Ms. Connolly should be seated here, as I’m counsel of record.”
    The cop glanced from one lawyer to the other, powerless to choose, but Mary couldn’t focus on the seating dispute, she was too distracted by Connolly’s looks. Didn’t anybody notice the similarity between the defendant and her new lawyer? The D.A. barely looked at Connolly. The lawyer from Jemison, Crabbe didn’t react. Maybe nobody noticed because the context was so different: Bennie was a prominent lawyer and Connolly a criminal defendant.
    Bennie was standing before the dais. “Your Honor, I’m not going to fight over the physical location of the defendant. Mr. Miller seems to think that possession of Ms. Connolly makes him her lawyer, which of course it doesn’t. He’s welcome to sit with my client, with my permission.”
    “So ordered,” Judge Guthrie said. “Mr. Deputy, you heard her.” The judge cleared his throat as the cop in the windbreaker escorted Connolly to Miller’s table, where she sat down. “Now that the defendant is safely ensconced, please explain your position, Ms. Rosato.”
    “Your Honor, Ms. Connolly contacted me by telephone yesterday and requested that I represent her effective immediately. She has an unfettered right to counsel of her own choosing and I am happy to undertake the matter, on a pro bono basis, but I seek a continuance. The trial is set for next week. I am requesting a month postponement, Your Honor, so that I may prepare my defense.”
    “Thank you, Ms. Rosato.” Judge Guthrie tilted his chair to face the Jemison lawyer. “Mr. Miller, may I have your comments now?”
    The associate stood up, clutching an index card like a security blanket. “Your Honor, I, my supervising counsel Henry Burden, who unfortunately was called out of the country this morning, and the law firm of Jemison, Crabbe, were appointed by this Court to represent this defendant and have done so for almost a year now. There is no reason to remove us as counsel and no reason to delay this matter. We hereby oppose the request for removal and the request for a continuance.”
    “Your Honor,” Bennie argued, “Jemison has no standing to object to defendant’s choice of counsel. Until now they haven’t shown even a modicum of interest in this defendant.”
    “Settle down, Ms. Rosato. I have your argument.” Judge Guthrie eased his reading glasses on and peered at the case file, turning the pages with care. “Does the Commonwealth wish to enter into this fray?” he asked, without looking up.
    Dorsey Hilliard rose heavily, slipped his aluminum crutches under his elbows, and walked to the podium. His suit shifted at the sleeves, unnaturally bunched around the crutches, but Hilliard’s handicap was otherwise not an issue. “The Commonwealth takes no position on Ms. Rosato’s entry of appearance. However, the Commonwealth strenuously opposes granting a continuance in this case at this late date. This matter has been the subject of six successive postponements, most by the defense. The People would not be served by a seventh. The Commonwealth is fully prepared for the upcoming trial and is ready to go.”
    Judge Guthrie frowned. “How about it, Ms. Rosato?”
    Bennie took the podium as Hilliard shifted to the right. “Your Honor, none of the delays have been at defendant’s behest and none were chargeable to her for purposes of the speedy trial rule. The defendant’s right to counsel of her choice and to a fair trial should not be jeopardized because of circumstances beyond her—”
    “Wait a minute, please,” Judge Guthrie hushed her, holding a nimble finger over