COLD RECORD

In Ferguson’s legal thriller, a deputy district attorney must navigate an unexpectedly twisty case.

After college sophomore Haylee Branch is found raped and strangled at her friend Jacinta Cantrell’s father’s mansion in a Northern California suburb, the police immediately arrest a young man named Andrew Rodarte. He tells police that he was at the scene of the crime that night, but that he left before Haylee was killed. Enter John Patrick Howland, a deputy district attorney who narrates much of the novel (along with police detective Mark Wade and Haylee’s mother, Marta). Gradually, Rodarte’s story begins to crumble. He admits at trial to killing Haylee, but says it was a tragic outcome of consensual rough sex; nonetheless, he’s found guilty of first-degree murder and gets a sentence of 25 years to life. That should have been the end of the story—an outcome that provides at least some comfort to the victim’s loved ones. But about a decade later, Rodarte files a habeas corpus plea that offers a new account of events that, amazingly, becomes more believable as the cops and the lawyers dig into it. Readers, too, will find the new development to be quite credible and realistic. The book takes readers all the way to the end of the knotty case, showing that justice can be a very messy thing—a concept that gradually reveals itself to be the novel’s overarching theme.

Ferguson presents his readers with a story that begins as a relatively straightforward Law & Order-style procedural, but soon takes the reader on a ride that turns out to be much wilder than your average TV mystery. The author has nearly two decades of experience as an attorney in Southern California, and his deep knowledge of court proceedings is on full display through his novel’s many twists and turns. His trial scenes show his keen eye for detail, but also showcase his ability to take things at a very slow pace when necessary. At another point, Ferguson presents a speech at a parole hearing that’s a masterpiece of tempered emotion and hard-earned wisdom. His greatest strength as a writer, however, is characterization; his players come across as real people caught up in real lives, and readers are likely to find themselves affected by their tribulations. The author treats his main character, Howland, with especially keen sensitivity, showing him to be a good man who’s far more capable than he gives himself credit for. Certainly, the lawyer would make a fine companion for someone—and on the final page, readers get a hint that that might happen. He also shows a distinct talent for shifting readers’ perceptions by taking characters’ stories in unexpected directions. The prose also shows impressive wit at times, as when defense attorney Ted Stauber is described as caught off guard, “like a cowboy on a skateboard”; at another point, the same attorney is said to look “ready to complete the trial by murdering his client.”

A remarkable and compelling courtroom drama.