"I can appreciate that," Farrell said, "but I don't think too much of what happens next is within my power."

"But it is," Theresa said. "You don't have to try him again. That's within the DA's discretion."

"Yes, well, but… I hope you both understand that I can hardly do that. The victim's family alone…"

Theresa's voice was low pitched, almost soothing. "But she wasn't his victim, Wes. That's the point. He didn't hurt her in any way. If you could make the family understand-"

Cliff huffed and interrupted, "What family? You'd have to find them first wherever the hell they're hiding out in Guatemala, and good luck with that. There's no family to concern yourself over. But there is my son."

Farrell cleared his throat. "I understood that the appeal wasn't based on the evidence presented at the trial." Farrell was referring to the two other women who testified they'd been raped by Ro.

Farrell knew that the successful appeal had been based on the fact that several members of the victim's family had worn a button with a picture of a smiling Dolores Sandoval on it in the courtroom during the trial. This, the Ninth Circuit had ruled, must have hopelessly prejudiced the jury against the defendant. It was as wacky a decision as Farrell had ever heard, even from a court renowned for its bizarre rulings.

Cliff Curtlee waved off Farrell's objection. "The evidence won't hold up in a new trial. You read the old transcript, you'll see. The two other so-called victims. Who are they? They shouldn't have been allowed to testify at all. And Ro admits he had sex with the girl, but she wanted it, too. There's no case anymore. There wasn't any to begin with."

"Well…"

Theresa cleared her throat again. "But whatever you decide on the trial, and I'm sure you'll come to the right decision, at the very least you can recommend a bail figure."