Rather than answer Judge Rosen's direct question, Alphonse Ferragamo had some advice for her, and she clearly did not like his tone, but she understood the words. What he was saying in effect was this: "Listen, lady, if you let this guy go free on bail, public opinion (the press) will crucify you. If he flees the country, you might as well go with him." And the final point, though not in these exact words, was this: "Judge, you have no reason whatsoever to stick your neck out. Just bang the goddamned gavel and have the prisoner taken to jail." Judge Rosen did not seem happy with the lecture, but she did seem to grasp the import of it. Still, to irk Ferragamo, I think, she turned to me. "Mr Sutter?" I began my counterattack, and that son of a bitch kept interrupting. I was scoring points, but clearly the home team started with lots of points. Bail proceedings, you understand, are not stacked in favour of the defendant as a trial by jury is, and it was all I could do just to keep Judge Rosen from banging the gavel and ending the whole thing. I mean, what was in it for her to listen to me tell her to make an insane decision that would jeopardize her career and lead to speculation that she was on the mob's payroll or was sleeping with Italian gangsters? There was nothing in it for her except that she was ticked off at Ferragamo's grandstanding, and in some deeper sense, she was not now fully convinced that Bellarosa was a bail risk. In short, she was interested in justice.

I went on with my description of Bellarosa as if I were introducing him for a Knights of Columbus award. "He has deep roots in his former Brooklyn neighbourhood, having lived within a mile of his birthplace all his life. Recently, he has become my neighbour, and I know this man personally." This brought a few murmurs from the crowd, but having started on this tack, to use a nautical term, I had to sail with it. "My wife and his wife are friends. We have entertained at one another's house" – sort of – "and I've met some of his family – " Oh, shit. Wrong word. Everyone laughed again, and the gavel crashed down again. "Order!"

I recovered nicely and went on, "Your Honour, I will personally guarantee that my client will not leave the Southern District of New York and that he will appear in court to face this charge on the date assigned to this case. I repeat, Your Honour, my client, despite all innuendos and allegations and public smears to the contrary, is a substantial, taxpaying citizen, a man with friends and fami- and relatives all over the metropolitan area, a man who counts among his friends many prominent businessmen, clergy, politicians -" More chuckles from the peanut gallery, though I could see I had made a few more points, but was anyone keeping score? I said, "And further, Your Honour -" Ferragamo couldn't stand not hearing himself talk for this long, so he cut me off again. "Judge, this is ridiculous. This man is a known gangster -" It was Judge Rosen's turn to interrupt. "The charge before the court is murder, Mr Ferragamo, not racketeering. If the charge were racketeering and he had these roots in the community, I would have already set bail. I'm not interested in allegations of racketeering. I'm interested in the question of whether or not this man will flee a drug-related murder charge."

Ferragamo was annoyed. He looked at Bellarosa, and their eyes met for the first time. Then he looked at me, as if to say, "Who the hell are you to get in the middle of this thing between Ferragamo and Bellarosa?" Ferragamo said to the judge, "Then let's concentrate on that aspect; this is a man who has vast resources, not only in this country, but in foreign countries, and it is not inconceivable that -"

"Your Honour," I interrupted, since this seemed the way to get the floor with Mr Ferragamo, "Your Honour, I stated earlier that I have here my client's passport -"

Ferragamo interrupted by yelling at me directly, "Your client, Mr Sutter, can buy fifty passports!"

I found myself, for the first time in my life, shouting in court. "Mr Ferragamo, I gave the court my word! I am personally guaranteeing that-" "Who are you to personally guarantee -?"

"Who are you to doubt -?"

And so it went, degenerating very quickly into courtroom histrionics. Everyone loved it. Except Judge Rosen, who banged her gavel. "Enough!" She looked at me. "Mr Sutter, the court appreciates your personal guarantee and is impressed with your foresight in dragging a suitcase full of money into court" – laughter – "and acknowledges your offer to turn over the defendant's passport. However, your request for bail is deni-" "Your Honour! One more thing, if I may."

She rolled her eyes, then motioned wearily for me to go on.

"Your Honour… Your Honour…"

"Yes, Mr Sutter? Speak. Please."

I took a deep breath, caught Bellarosa's eye, and spoke. "Your Honour, regarding the charge itself… the charge as read… the charge states that the alleged murder of this Juan Carranza individual took place on January fourteenth of this year in New Jersey. Well, Your Honour, my client has an alibi for that day, and I didn't think it appropriate or advisable to introduce that alibi at this time, but it's obvious that I must address myself to that alibi. So, if I may approach the bench…" There was a silence in the courtroom, broken by Ferragamo's voice. "What kind of alibi, Mr Sutter? I want to hear what alibi you have." He looked at the judge. "Your Honour, I have five witnesses who have testified under oath in front of a grand jury, who have implicated Frank Bellarosa in the murder of Juan Carranza. The grand jury voted to indict the defendant based on this testimony. What possible alibi could the defence counsel present here…?" He threw up his hands in a dramatic gesture. "Oh, this is inane. Really, Mr Sutter. Really. You have wasted my time and everyone's time."

He really looked pissed off. Really. But I was more pissed off. In fact, the more this jerk spoke, the more I realized he was a ruthless, egocentric media hound. I said to him, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Mr Ferragamo, I have the licence plate numbers of four cars that attempted to delay my appearance here in court. I believe that when I run those numbers through the DMV, I will find those cars are registered to the U.S. Attorney's office. I believe that you engaged in an unlawful act to keep-" "How dare you? How dare you?"

"How dare you?" I shot back, doing a little word stressing of my own. "How dare you obstruct-" "Are you insane?"

I mean, I was really hot now. Needless to say, it's not a good idea to make an enemy of a man like this, but what the hell, I had enemies in high places now: the IRS, the FBI, The Creek, the Stanhope dynasty and their attorneys, and so forth. What was one more? I said, "I'm not the one displaying aberrant behaviour in open court."

"What?"

The crowd loved it. I mean, really loved it. There they sat, only ten minutes before, bored out of their minds with pro forma early-morning arraignments, and suddenly, in walks Frank Bellarosa, then his button-down attorney, who turns out to be a little bit nuts, and the ambitious Alphonse Ferragamo, who has completely lost control of himself. I glanced into the courtroom and saw reporters scribbling furiously, artists looking up and down between their pads and the bench as though they were following a vertical Ping-Pong game, and the rest of the crowd, smiling attentively, like people who had been sitting through a dull opera only to discover there was a nude scene in the second act. Bellarosa and I made eye contact again, and he smiled at me. Meanwhile, Alphonse and I were getting in good jabs at each other, not really addressing any issue except the issue of egos. Judge Rosen let us spar for about a minute, not wanting to be thought of as a killjoy, but finally she rapped her gavel. "That's enough, gentlemen." And she used the term loosely. "Mr Sutter," she said, "that is a serious accusation, but even if it were true, it has no bearing on this discussion. And regarding any alibi you say your client has for the day of the alleged crime, Mr Sutter, such alibi evidence may be considered by the court in determining whether to set bail or not. However, I don't see how I can give your argument any credence unless you happen to have witnesses in this court. And even if you did, Mr Sutter, I am not prepared to delay this morning's arraignments by swearing in witnesses at this time." She added, "I'm sorry, Mr Sutter, but the question of bail must be decided at a future session -" The gavel went up again.