Chapter 27
Harpo walked up just after Beau Lee ended the call.
“Good morning, Brother Harpo,” Beau Lee said.
“Good morning to you.”
The two men shook hands.
“How you feeling?” Harpo asked.
“Like Daniel in the lion’s den.”
“Never would have guessed that was your vibe this morning. I mean, you’re upright, standing firm, with your chin up.”
“Well, you know, brothers like us have mastered that art of cool confidence. Remember how we walked into that Louisiana courtroom? The whole lot of us looking like we owned the place.”
Harpo laughed, reflecting on the fond memory. “Yeah, newspapers started calling us the Justice League.”
“More like the Just-Us League.”
More laughter ensued. Harpo was so tickled he marched in place and slapped his thigh.
After he straightened up, he cleared his throat.
“But it’s not going to be like it was in Louisiana.
In this city, people take to the streets.
Once enough people hear about what happened to Hollis, the city will be battening down the hatches, ’cause the storm that’ll roll through here will be unlike anything they’ve ever seen. ”
“But we need more ways to spread the word. Any ideas?”
“Glad you asked, my astute brother. I’ve got a few appearances lined up—radio, mostly.
But I could use your help if you can spare the time.
We gotta get your mug on the TV screens giving the people the rundown.
Otherwise, it’ll just be me hitting at least twenty radio and TV stations in the next five days. ”
“You make that sound easy…”
“Far from it, but what choice do I have?” Harpo asked. “Those cops tried to kill Hollis, and we have to get the world’s attention.”
“My gut tells me it wasn’t random. There’s something more going on here.”
“I’ve been fighting CPD for most of my life, and I can tell you this: nothing, and I mean nothing, is coincidental with them.”
Beau Lee had come to trust Brother Harpo’s insights and observations.
He’d been on the front lines of civil rights for decades, long before Beau Lee had passed the bar exam.
He was the second-highest-ranking figure in the Nation of Islam, having risen to prominence when he participated in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference’s Operation Breadbasket alongside Reverend Jesse Jackson.
The movement sought to improve the economic status of Black people by boycotting white-owned-and-operated businesses that refused to serve Blacks.
Harpo was a walking encyclopedia of U.S.
history, especially the Civil Rights Movement, because he had lived it.
He told of the turmoil brought about by the 1968 assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Riots erupted on Chicago’s West Side.
Countless arrests were made, and Harpo was on the front lines ensuring that those peaceful protesters received a proper legal defense.
He was a hero of the people—a true proletariat—and an ally.
Alvarez approached them from the end of the hall holding a large paper cup. “Good morning, Brother Harpo.”
“Good morning, Princess. You doing all right?”
“Ask me again after this arraignment.” She looked at her watch and then at the courtroom’s entrance. “We better go in.”
“Yes, lead the way,” Beau Lee said, then turned to Harpo. “I’ll give you a call once the session’s adjourned so we can strategize on those media appearances.”
Harpo nodded. “Good luck in there.”
Beau Lee and Alvarez entered the hall of justice. It was nearly empty, save for Jamillah and Tyrone. Rocky had remained with Hollis at the hospital.
The two attorneys stood behind the defense table across from Peter DaSilva and Miranda Dillard.
Finn had advised Beau Lee that the prosecutors were as smart as they were relentless, especially DaSilva.
When Beau Lee searched DaSilva’s history online and learned he’d never lost a case, it gave him pause.
Perfect records didn’t always mean a prosecutor was a skilled litigator but could suggest their unwillingness to put justice before all else, even when the evidence pointed to police corruption and misconduct.
The judge entered the chambers and took her seat.
“All rise,” the bailiff said. “The Honorable Judge Kathleen Lambert presiding.”
The judge took the bench. She was an older woman with graying hair, though it was blond in the photo Beau Lee had seen of her online, and in it she had fewer wrinkles.
He surmised it had likely been taken close to a decade ago, but there was no doubt the image of her now, in person, was far more commanding than a photo—even a good one.
“Please be seated,” Judge Lambert said. “This hearing is for the State of Illinois v. Hollis Montrose.”
“Here we go,” Beau Lee whispered to Alvarez, who looked fired up.
“In the case of Hollis Montrose…” She then rattled off Hollis’s charges as if she were ordering food at a drive-thru: “The defendant has been charged with four counts of brandishing a firearm. Four counts of aggravated battery with a firearm. Four counts of battery on a peace officer. Four counts of attempted first-degree murder of a peace officer. Are the attorneys representing Mr. Montrose present?”
“Present, Your Honor,” Beau Lee said.
“Please identify yourselves for the record.”
“Attorneys Beau Lee Cooper and Princess Alvarez representing Mr. Hollis Montrose,” he said.
“And where is your client?”
Alvarez took this one. “Officer Montrose is recovering from his very serious injuries in the hospital, Your Honor. We are entering a plea of not guilty on his behalf.”
“Am I to understand that he’s undergoing intensive care?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” she said.
“I see,” she said. “Considering Mr. Montrose’s current condition and future recovery, when do you foresee his being well enough to appear in court?”
“Well, I’m not a physician, Your Honor, but Mr. Montrose’s road to recovery will be long and demanding,” Alvarez said.
“Naturally, but has either of you seen Mr. Montrose?”
“Yes,” Beau Lee said.
“And have you spoken to his doctors?”
“Not directly, but I am privy to his condition,” Beau Lee said.
“Then I take it you have some understanding of his current situation?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Good,” she said. “Given that we cannot determine when Mr. Montrose will be able to appear, I see no reason to discuss bail at this time. The defendant will remain in police custody while recovering. We will set the bail hearing for next month, granted Mr. Montrose’s condition doesn’t worsen.
Does the prosecution have anything to add? ”
“Actually, Your Honor, we’d like to have bail set today if possible.”
“And why is that?”
“As we noted in our filing, Mr. Montrose is accused of a heinous crime. While we understand that he is currently in no position to be moved to an inmate facility, that could change from now to the hearing date. We therefore prefer to have bail set at this time rather than at a later date.”
“I see. Mr. Cooper and Ms. Alvarez, do you wish to say anything else on your client’s behalf?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Alvarez said. “If Mr. Montrose improves, his family would like him to come home, where he could be cared for.”
“Are you suggesting he can’t receive proper care while incarcerated?”
“Mr. Montrose is not a criminal,” Beau Lee said. “I shouldn’t have to remind the court that he has the presumption of innocence and, given that he’s still a law enforcement officer, has access to a much higher quality of care as an employed citizen than what he would receive as an inmate.”
“You raise a good point, Mr. Cooper. However, as the prosecution suggested in their filing, this case is sensitive, to put it mildly. The longer it takes to adjudicate, the more volatile things could become within the communities that make up our city. In addition to that, Mr. Montrose’s training as a law enforcement officer presents its own risk.
Therefore, in the interest of time and public safety, I’d like to hold the bond hearing today. Are you prepared to move forward?”
Beau Lee looked at Alvarez, who shrugged. “Yes, Your Honor. We are prepared.”
“Taking into consideration the gravity of the crimes levied against Mr. Montrose and his access to firearms, I am denying bail.”
“Denied? On what grounds?” Beau Lee balked. “Hollis Montrose isn’t a flight risk and poses absolutely no danger to society, especially in his current state. You’re talking about a man who has never fired his weapon on or off duty at anyone.”
“Allegedly,” Judge Lambert said. “Don’t forget why we’re here.”
“Your Honor, this veers into preposterous territory,” he said.
“Like I said, Mr. Montrose’s experience as a law enforcement officer poses significant risk. If allowed bail, his knowledge of police procedure could aid him in evading law enforcement.”
“You think he’d flee?”
“I wouldn’t presume to know what Mr. Montrose would or wouldn’t do if given the opportunity. I can only consider the risk.”
“But the man can’t even walk, and if he is to survive, he may never walk again.
He will surely need round-the-clock care.
I must reiterate that he is a longstanding member of his community and a respectable policeman.
He’s highly decorated and is a pillar in his community.
I have here a statement from his partner, Officer Finnegan Doyle, and numerous officers who attest to my client’s integrity.
By not allowing Hollis Montrose bond, you are violating his constitutional rights—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Cooper. I hope you don’t think you can come into my courtroom and lecture me about constitutionality. You need to tread lightly.”
“Easy, Beau Lee,” Alvarez said in his ear. “She’s about to see red.”
Beau Lee tempered his voice and composed himself. “I mean no disrespect, Your Honor, but this is beyond rational.”
“Much like the crimes Mr. Montrose has been accused of.”
“Yes, accused, Your Honor. Not found guilty. It is unconstitutional to punish a man before he can stand trial. Especially a sworn peace officer with no criminal history.”
“I beg your pardon,” Judge Lambert said, leaning over the bench. “My decisions are not punitive, and I reject the implication.”
Beau Lee turned to Alvarez. “What the hell is going on? We’re getting railroaded.”
“Welcome to Chicago,” she said. “Judges and prosecutors tend to be in cahoots.”
“Your Honor, please? I implore you,” Beau Lee said. “My client has roots in this community—his family, his job—he has no intention of going anywhere and looks forward to his day in court. There are no grounds to deny Hollis Montrose bond, and doing so could put his life in jeopardy.”
“Jeopardy?”
“Police officers face unprecedented threats when incarcerated, and Mr. Montrose’s health conditions put him in unnecessary peril.
Why deny him the opportunity to be with his family, where he can be cared for and protected until he can actually stand trial and defend himself? At least consider house arrest.”
Judge Lambert was unmoved. “The decision stands. Bail is denied,” she said without further reconsideration. “If Mr. Montrose is to survive and becomes well enough to stand trial, he will be remanded in the Cook County Jail.”
Beau Lee looked at DaSilva and Dillard, who seemed beyond pleased. The hearing had been a farce. Lambert had chosen to deny Hollis’s bond before stepping foot in the courtroom, and her partial stance reeked of prejudice and malfeasance.
“That will be all,” the judge said. “As for the trial date, I will make a determination based on Mr. Montrose’s health status, and you’ll be informed when the date is set.” The judge slammed the gavel with finality. “Adjourned.”