Page 82 of Worth of Waste

One of the best defense law firms in the city was Santiago and Sons. He knew of several people who had used the firm because of their ability to get people off on charges, or if not get them off scot-free, then get them one hell of a good deal. They had a reputation for being the best, and they charged like they were the best, too.

Had Dino intended to fight his charges, he probably would have hired the firm. But as it was, he just needed bail, a little time out of jail, and he wasn’t ever planning on making it to his next court date, anyway.

Certainly not a fucking trial.

“Dino,” the new lawyer said, bending down to speak privately with only him, “nice to meet you, I’m Kon. Your brother hired me. Traffic was a bitch, it won’t happen again.”

Dino took each of the man’s statements in one at a time before he nodded. “Okay.”

“And me?” the public defender asked.

Kon shrugged. “Stay or don’t, but keep out of my way for the next thirty minutes. He’s getting bail or I’m not leaving this courtroom.”

Carl sat down in his chair, shutting his briefcase. “Go for it.”

“I will,” Kon said simply. Then, the man turned back to the judge. “Ready whenever you are, Judge.”

The woman behind the bench peered down at Kon with a knowing smile. “You always make it fun, Mr. Santiago.”

“You know you can call me Kon, right?”

“And you know I won’t,” the judge said, laughing. “He’s got more money in the bank than even I do. Businesses across the city. Offshore bank accounts. Contacts from here to New York that could move him over the border faster than we could blink. Tell me how he’s not a flight risk, please.”

Dino blinked, surprised at the judge’s blatant knowledge of his contacts. Even the prosecution looked quite pleased, as though the judge had just done their job for them, and he supposed in a way, she had.

“He has a direct hand in one of his businesses,” Kon said, “a strip joint in the Heights, not exactly bleeding money or class over there, your Honor. The majority of his businesses have been put in a blind trust since his last arrest. I mean, the ones the Feds haven’t shut down on him for one reason or another. Dino hasn’t traveled in over four years—not even out of State. He hasn’t traveled out of country in six years, and his passport was revoked during his last arrest. Three of his accounts are frozen, including the offshore ones. Does he have more—does he have money? Probably, everyone does. He can’t live, he can’t pay his debts, without money.”

“And the contacts?” the judge asked. “The affiliations to criminal organizations across the country?”

“Friends and family don’t necessarily mean he’s in with the Outfit, too.”

“We have every reason to suggest Dino DeLuca is a member of the Chicago Mob,” the lawyer across the way said, glaring at Kon.

“Give me a recorded video or tape of Dino, admitting his affiliation or of a known made man who says he’s a part of any of the organizations in Chicago or even New York. Find me one, show me it, and I’ll let you have that, Rudy.”

The judge sat a little straighter in her chair, her gaze bouncing between the two lawyers. “All right, play nice, boys. As amusing as it would be to watch you two argue, I have a dinner to get to across town and I’d like to show up in something other than this robe. He’s still a flight risk, Kon.”

“Twice a day check-ins,” Kon said. “Reasonably, you can’t refuse Dino bail, even if you put it as high as the sky. He doesn’t travel, he doesn’t have a lot of means to travel, not without moving funds in a way that would be noticeable, and having a few bad friends doesn’t make him a flight risk. Twice a day check-ins to whomever you chose—the prosecution, even.”

Dino didn’t like that, but he chose not to open his mouth and argue the point.

“I would talk about an ankle monitor,” the other lawyer suggested.

Dino did stiffen at that one.

Hell no.

He wasn’t wearing one of those things, and they weren’t sticking him somewhere he couldn’t leave.

Kon must have noticed his change in mood. “No ankle monitor.”

It took the judge another few minutes of waffling back and forth, of amusingly eyeing the two lawyers arguing back and forth, before she leaned forward and smacked her hammer down hard enough to silence the room.

“Bail is set at four-hundred-thousand. Check-in once a day with your lawyer, Mr. DeLuca, who will then report your check-in to the prosecution. I have no doubt the Feds who are working with the police on this case will have zero problem with confirming your whereabouts from day to day. If you want freedom so much, pay for it.”

“Well done,” the public defender said to Dino’s right.

Kon dismissively glanced over at the guy as he fixed his jacket. “There’s a reason profit works better than pro-bono, man. We’ve got every reason to work sitting in the bank.”