Missing Justice by Alafair Burke is the second book of the Samantha Kincaid mystery series set in contemporary Portland. Deputy District Attorney Samantha Kincaid is on the Portland Police Bureau Major Crimes Team. It's a refreshing role for a protagonist: she's not a police detective or a private investigator, but she works closely with the police to ensure they have a case (adequate evidence and probable cause) they can bring to court.
It took most attorneys five to seven years of good work and shameless ass kissing to get into MCU, and I’d done it in less than three with my pride largely intact.
It’s hard enough for a woman barely out of her twenties to be taken seriously as a prosecutor. If cops and colleagues start to look at you as dating prey, you’re toast.
“Kincaid.” The butch phone answer is one of the small but very cool perks of being a prosecutor.
Judge Clarissa Easterbrook goes missing. Because she's a judge, and her husband a prominent medical doctor, the police are immediately involved in the missing person case. No brush-off "wait 24 or 48 hours" like the general public receives.
By 7 A.M. the next morning, I was watching my first Major Crimes Unit case unfold on television. Nothing like an attractive, professional, missing white woman to satisfy the hunger of the viewing masses.
If the husband didn’t do her, she’s less likely to be dead.” The bizarre mathematics of murder in a world where most violence against women is inflicted by husbands and lovers.
Interesting. Dogs out walking in the rain don’t usually come home with body paint.
Loutrell was a timid bureaucrat who was more concerned about straying beyond his authority than finding Clarissa Easterbrook.
When Clarissa's body is found, evidence rather tidily points to a convenient suspect. Samantha would like to buy into closing the case, but "what if?". She digs into records, and finds sufficient reason to suspect a setup (she's right).
their lives would never be the same again. These days, that concept is overused, as we all say that the crumbling of two towers changed the world forever
The kind of change I’m talking about can be claimed only by the families of the three thousand people trapped inside. It’s the kind of change that causes every other second of life—the birth of a child, a broken leg, the car breaking down at the side of the road—to be cataloged in the memory in one of two ways: before or after that defining moment in time.
Fast paced, interesting story, spunky protagonist. Nice balance of forensic evidence, personal relationships, courtroom scenes. Definitely a series to pursue.
“Careful, Ray. Not all of us can afford those Hugo Boss suits you strut around in.”
four hours at a desk after two weeks on the beach had me yearning to get out.
Clean clothes and a lack of BO is about all you need to meet minimum standards for the courthouse crowd.
No way was I going to join the kiss-ups who leave notes on the board detailing their precise location. That’s what pagers were for.
I was surprised when a maid answered Susan Kerr’s front door. Definitely not a Portland thing. This woman had real money.
Walters had been a prosecutor for nearly two decades, put more men on death row than any other DA in the state, and, as far as I could tell, never had cause to doubt that she was smarter and quicker than anyone else in a room.
Running is my therapy. No matter what the problem, a run always helps me see life in perspective.
When you choose to, you can say what you mean and still be very charming.” When I choose to. For now, I chose to ignore the backhanded part of the compliment. But if he didn’t get to the point soon, that voluntary charm of mine was going on strike.
You’ve got to stop butting heads, or you’re in for a world of hurt.” People feel perfectly free to lecture me about butting heads, but who scolds the buttheads? Maybe Lesh could bend the will of jerks like Coakley through charm and personality, but I’ve found those kind of people will run me over if I don’t stand up for myself. I still loved Lesh, but until he walked a mile in my Ferragamos, he didn’t have a clue as to what my job was like.
If I had boy parts, he never would have called my power move a little scene. It would be a fast ball, a line drive, an outside shot, or some other ridiculous sports analogy that I don’t understand.
Despite what people think, the odds of getting swiped off the street by a total stranger are so slim it would be irresponsible for the police to assume that scenario without at least looking into the possibility that something about the victim got her killed.”
Grace knew about some of the run-ins I’d had with coworkers in the office, all of whom happened to be my superiors. She says I have a problem with authority. I say my only problem is that the assholes are the ones who get promoted.
Senior Deputy District Attorney Russell Frist,” I said, deepening my voice into the best Frist boom I could muster. “Resident weight-lifting crew-cut-wearing stud muffin.”
I like people who are hard to sum up. They make life interesting.
If only I could learn to get the actual work completed as efficiently and neatly as I could list it.
If the public had any clue what was walking around out there with the rest of us, they’d lose any remaining faith in the criminal justice system’s sentencing priorities.
I ignored the rhetorical question because, like most rhetorical questions, it was stupid. My stare must have told him I wasn’t buying it.
My ex-husband hadn’t aged. It was probably a deal with the devil.
Portland’s one of those towns that shuts down at 10 P.M.
confidence is the ultimate accessory.
“Luck.” Johnson didn’t know me well enough yet to know that I think luck is for whiners.
Cops love to f--- with lawyers, even when they’re prosecutors, and, as much as Walker loves me, I am still a prosecutor.
You don’t know from waiting until you’ve spent time in a courthouse.
See, that thing about the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth isn’t quite right. Witnesses are only allowed to provide the truth when it’s been specifically requested.
TV crews were back. Asked to comment on the anticipated motion to quash, I said I was not going to address matters that had not yet been brought to court. It sounded more civilized than, “You mean that coward’s motion to squirm out of testifying? No comment.”
If I had a dollar for every time a pissed-off man told me I was being emotional, I wouldn’t have to deal with angry men any more. Apparently rage is only an emotion when combined with estrogen.
I had no respect for a guy who was more worried about his own political future than the murder of a woman he’d been sleeping with.
I gave him the gist: I’d persuaded the defense attorney to raise a stink about a bribe the victim was taking, and now I’d been tossed off the case.
People don’t realize that a criminal case is rarely built on a single piece of evidence, relying instead on tens and hundreds of clues in context, each by itself insignificant. Too many helpful witnesses show up late in the game, because they didn’t want to bother the police with insignificant information.
What I needed was access to LEXIS/NEXIS. From what I could remember, NEXIS’s public records database included corporate filing information from all fifty states. Unfortunately, Duncan never saw fit to include the service in the office’s budget. If we needed legal research, we did it the old-fashioned way.
Then I remembered that the computer research sites all give free passwords to law students and judicial clerks. It’s the legal profession’s equivalent to a dealer handing out drugs on the playground. Once the kids are hooked on an easy fix, they’ll pay anything for more.
need to look at some public records that are hard to get after business hours. Do you think it would be OK if I used your password?” She didn’t need to think about it long. “What the hell? It’s not like it costs the city anything, and I hardly use it anyway.”
Having grown up in Portland, I know the place can be incestuous. People joke that it’s more like a big room than a small city.
I had risked a complete waste of time by driving up without calling ahead, but I knew from experience that surprise confrontations were my best chance of getting information from the uncooperative.
I left him then, wondering if I’d ever get over the fact that a man who loved me as much as he knew how to love another person had thrown it all away for someone who hadn’t even mattered./i