Nothing But the Truth (Dismas Hardy Series #6)

( 9 )

Overview

When San Francisco attorney Dismas Hardy gets a call saying his wife never picked the kids up from school, he’s worried. Frannie’s a great mother. Turns out there’s a good explanation: she’s in jail.

Unbeknownst to her husband, Frannie has just appeared before a grand jury—and refused to share a crucial piece of information about her friend Ron, who’s accused of killing his wife. Now it’s up to Dismas to race the clock and find a culprit, all the while wondering: Why would his ...

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Nothing But the Truth (Dismas Hardy Series #6)

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Overview

When San Francisco attorney Dismas Hardy gets a call saying his wife never picked the kids up from school, he’s worried. Frannie’s a great mother. Turns out there’s a good explanation: she’s in jail.

Unbeknownst to her husband, Frannie has just appeared before a grand jury—and refused to share a crucial piece of information about her friend Ron, who’s accused of killing his wife. Now it’s up to Dismas to race the clock and find a culprit, all the while wondering: Why would his wife go to jail to protect another man? Who really killed Bree Beaumont—and why? He’s looking for the truth. But he’s not quite sure he wants to find it…

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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
Lescroart continues his string of ambitious, high-energy courtroom dramas with Nothing but the Truth, a multilayered mystery that should, by rights, capture the attention of a large, appreciative audience.
From the Publisher
"The novel's pacing is reminiscent of classic Ross Macdonald, where a week's worth of events are condensed into a few hours . . . [a] winning thriller."—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

"San Francisco attorney Dismas Hardy [is] at his most engaging here…a true star in the lawyer-hero firmament." Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

“Dismas Hardy is such a likable main character that his very presence keeps the story grounded…very entertaining.” —Chicago Tribune

"A master." —USA Today

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
Secrets and lies are the leitmotifs in Lescroart's 11th novel--a crisp, engaging thriller that could well be subtitled "This Time It's Personal." San Francisco lawyer Dismas Hardy has 72 hours to solve a murder that happened three weeks ago. Time is crucial because his wife, Frannie, has been jailed for contempt after refusing to reveal a secret (confided to her by her friend Ron Beaumont) to the grand jury investigating the murder of Beaumont's wife, Bree. The secret involves Ron's past--he kidnapped his own children rather than leave them in the custody of his abusive first wife, Dawn--and if Frannie spills the truth to the grand jury, Ron plans to skip town and go into hiding again with his kids. There are other secrets, too--related to Bree's powerful political position as an adviser, and rumored lover, to gubernatorial candidate Damon Kerry and as "a player in the big-money oil business." The murder investigation stalled when Carl Griffin, the detective assigned to the case, was shot to death days after Bree was killed. But throughout all the intriguing power plays, it's the close-to-home secrets affecting Hardy and his marriage that resonate most. The tug of competing loyalties and the sense that everyone has something to hide add depth and energy to a plot that has already been galvanized by Hardy's race to exonerate his wife, and solve the murder, in record time. The novel's pacing is reminiscent of classic Ross Macdonald, where a week's worth of events are condensed into a few hours. This winning thriller is the fifth starring Hardy, and it tops Lescroart's last one, The Mercy Rule, raising expectations for his next one. Agent, Barney Karpfinger. Simultaneous BBD audio. (Jan.) Copyright 1999 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
Dismas Hardy is a lawyer living what he thinks is a simple life: he enjoys his job, loves his wife, Frannie, and their kids. However, his world is turned upside down when Frannie is arrested for contempt of court for not revealing a secret of a man whose children attend the same school as theirs, a friend whose wife was recently murdered and who is the prime suspect. Now Dismas must solve the murder to get Frannie out of jail as well as deal with his nagging suspicion that more was going on between Frannie and this man. Dismas discovers that the wife was linked to a California gubernatorial candidate and to the debate on gas additives. How does this relate to an organization of ecoterrorists who attempt to poison the city's water supply and to the murder of the original police detective assigned to the case? Though this story has lots of interesting twists and turns, it does drag in places. Dylan Baker is a competent reader, and fans of Lescroart's novels will enjoy this one.--Danna Bell-Russel, Library of Congress Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.\
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780451202857
  • Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 2/28/2001
  • Series: Dismas Hardy Series , #6
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Pages: 656
  • Sales rank: 173,637
  • Product dimensions: 4.40 (w) x 10.88 (h) x 1.23 (d)

Meet the Author

John T. Lescroart

John Lescroart is the author of nineteen previous novels, including The Betrayal, The Suspect, The Hunt Club, The Motive, The Second Chair, The First Law, The Oath, The Hearing, and Nothing But the Truth. He lives in Northern California.

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    1. Also Known As:
      John Lescroart
    2. Hometown:
      El Macero, California
    1. Date of Birth:
      January 14, 1948
    2. Place of Birth:
      Houston, Texas
    1. Education:
      B.A. in English with Honors, UC Berkeley, 1970

Read an Excerpt

At the tail end of a dog of a morning, Dismas Hardy was beginning to fear that he would also be spending the whole stiflingly dull afternoon in municipal court on the second floor of the Hall of Justice in San Francisco.

He was waiting—interminably since nine a.m.—for his client to be admitted into the courtroom. This would not have been his first choice for how to celebrate his forty-eighth birthday.

Now again the clerk called out someone not his client—this time a young man who looked as though he'd been drinking since he'd turned twenty-one and possibly two or three years before that. Maybe he was still drunk—certainly he looked wasted.

The judge was Peter Li, a former assistant district attorney with whom Hardy was reasonably friendly. The prosecuting attorney was Randy Huang, who sat at his table inside the bar rail as the defendant went shuffling past. The public defender was a ten-year veteran named Donna Wong.

Judge Li's longtime clerk, another Asian named Manny See, read the charge against the young man as he stood, swaying, eyes opening and closing, at the center podium. The judge addressed him. "Mr. Reynolds, you've been in custody now for two full days, trying to get to sober, and your attorney tells me you've gotten there. Is that true?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Donna Wong declared quickly.

Judge Li nodded patiently, but spoke in a firm tone. "I'd like to hear it from Mr. Reynolds himself, Counsellor. Sir?"

Reynolds looked up, swayed for a beat, let out a long breath, shook his head.

"Mr. Reynolds." Judge Li raised his voice. "Look at me, please. Do you know where you are?"

Donna Wong prodded him with her elbow. Reynolds looked down at her, up to the judge and his clerk, across to Huang sitting at the prosecution table. His expression took on a look of stunned surprise as he became aware of his surroundings, of the Asian faces everywhere he turned. "I don't know." A pause. "China?"

But the courtroom humor, such as it was, mingled uneasily with tragedy and the sometimes cruel impersonality of the law. Twenty-five very long minutes after the drunken Mr. Reynolds had been removed from the courtroom, another case had been called, another defendant—not Hardy's—brought in. He was beginning to think that his own client wouldn't get his hearing and that another entire day would have been wasted. This was not all that unusual an occurrence. Everyone bitched about it, but no one seemed to be able to make things better.

The new defendant was Joshua Bonder, and from the Penal Code section read out by the clerk, Hardy knew the charge was dealing amphetamines. But before things got started, Judge Li wanted to make sure that the three material witnesses in the case were in the building and ready to testify.

Hardy was half nodding off, half aware of the jockeying between Judge Li and the attorneys, when suddenly the back door by the judge's bench opened. At the sound of rattling chains—shades of the Middle Ages—Hardy looked up as a couple of armed bailiffs escorted three children into the courtroom.

The two boys and a girl seemed to range in age from about ten to fourteen. All of them rail-thin, poorly dressed, obviously terrified. But what sent an almost electric buzz through the courtroom was the fact that they were all shackled together in handcuffs and leg chains.

Joshua Bonder, whose own handcuffs had been removed for the hearing, screamed out, "You sons of bitches!" and nearly knocked over the defense table, jumping up, trying to get to the kids. "What have you done to my children?"

Hardy had seen many murderers walk into the courtroom on their own, without any hardware. He thought he'd seen most of everything here, but this shocked him to his roots.

And he wasn't alone. Both of the courtroom bailiffs had leapt to restrain Mr. Bonder, and now held him by the defense table. But Judge Li himself was up behind the bench, his normal calm demeanor thrown to the winds at this outrage.

"What the hell is this?" he boomed at the guards. "Uncuff those children at once!" His eyes raked the room, stopping at the prosecution table. "Mr. Vela"—the assistant DA who'd drawn Joshua Bonder—"what is the meaning of this?"

Vela, too, was on his feet, stammering. "Your Honor, you yourself issued the body attachments for these children as witnesses. We were afraid they would flee. They wouldn't testify against their father—he's their only guardian. So we have been holding them in Youth Guidance."

"For how long?"

Vela clearly wished the floor would open up and swallow him. "Two weeks, Your Honor. You must remember . . ."

Li listened, then went back to shouting. "I remember the case, but I didn't order them shackled, for God's sake!"

Vela the bureaucrat had an answer for that, too. "That's the mandated procedure, Your Honor. When we transfer inmates from Juvenile Hall and we think there's a flight risk, we shackle them."

Judge Li was almost stammering in his rage. "But look at these people, Mr. Vela. They're children, not even teenage—"

The father's attorney, a woman named Gina Roake, decided to put in her two cents' worth. "Your Honor, am I to understand that these children have been at the YGC for two weeks?"

Vela mumbled something about how Ms. Roake shouldn't get on her high horse. It was standard procedure. But Roake was by now truly exercised, her voice hoarse with disgust. "You locked up these innocent children in the company of serious juvenile offenders? Is that what you're telling me, Mr. Vela?"

"They are not innocent—"

"No? What was their crime? Reluctance to testify against their father? That's all? And for this they're shackled?"

Vela tried again. "The judge ordered—"

But Li wasn't having any part of that. Exploding, he pointed his whole hand at the prosecutor, now booming at the top of his voice. "I ordered the least restrictive setting that would ensure the children's return to court. Least restrictive, Mr. Vela. You know what that means?"

The smallest of the three kids had started crying, and the girl had moved over, putting her arm around him. As the bailiff moved in to separate them, Gina Roake cried out, "Don't you dare touch them. Your Honor?" A plea.

Which Li accepted. "Let them alone."

A moment of relative quiet ensued. Into it, Gina Roake inserted a heartfelt reproach. "Your Honor, this is the inevitable outcome when children are drawn into the criminal justice system. There has to be a better way. This is a travesty."

At long last, it was Hardy's turn.

His client, a thirty-two-year-old recent Dallas transplant named Jason Trent, made his living laying carpet and was now in custody charged with three counts of mayhem and inflicting grievous bodily injury pursuant to a fight in the 3Com Stadium parking lot after a 49er game.

Trent's story, and Hardy believed it, was that a trio of local boys had taken exception to his Dallas Cowboys attire and, after the Niners had been soundly thrashed, thought they would work out some of their frustrations by ganging up on the lone cowboy. This, in common with most of the other Niner decisions on the field during the game, turned out to be a bad idea for the home team.

Jason Trent had black belts in both karate and aikido and had also been a Golden Gloves champion in his teens back in Fort Worth. After being sprayed with beer and pushed from two directions at once, and all the while warning his assailants about his various defense skills, Jason had finally lost his temper. In a very short fight, he put all three boys on the ground. Then—his real mistake—he'd gone around with a few more rage-driven punches, in the process breaking two arms, one collarbone, and one nose.

"You should have stopped when they were down," Hardy had told him.

To which Jason had shrugged. "They started it."

Even so, the story probably would have ended there had not one of the three "victims" been the son of Richard Raintree, a San Francisco supervisor and political ally of District Attorney Sharron Pratt. Raintree contended that Jason Trent had overreacted to what amounted only to good-natured hazing and was himself drunk on beer. Sharron Pratt agreed—she'd ordered Jason arrested and charged. Now Hardy addressed Judge Li. "Your Honor," he said, "this is my client's first alleged offense. He has no criminal record, not even a parking ticket. He holds a steady job. He's married and has three young children. He shouldn't even be here in this courtroom. His alleged victims started this fight and he was forced to defend himself."

Li allowed a crack in his stern visage, glancing over at the bandaged and splinted victims at the prosecution table. "And did a good job of it, didn't he?"

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Table of Contents

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 9 )
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Sort by: Showing 1 – 12 of 9 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted March 10, 2005

    Its aight ! :(

    This was a boring book! Its aight but it was confusing! I only read it was because i was told to in ma reading class! Well flakita gotz 2 go cuz she runnin out of words!Holla to those at Crockett Middle School. luv yall! -$$$

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 26, 2003

    bogus!!

    this book was bogus! none of it would have happened if he switched classes! it was soo predictable! ive read soo many better books! i didnt want to read this book but i had to because it was for my english class! this was the worst book ever!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 17, 2000

    PATRIOTISOM

    We love this book and give it 4 out of 5 stars. It really relates to everyday situations. I really enjoyed this book, i couldn't put it down!!!! There are sooooo many different twists and turns!!! Although the story line was a bit frustrating!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 28, 2012

    Awesome

    Yet another example of Lescroart's craft. Another home run and honestly, who couldn't LOVE the last courtroom scene in the book? If you're a legal junkie or a Lescroart junkie, highly recommend this book.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Anonymous

    Posted September 6, 2000

    A good quick read

    This book really kept my interest from the first pages when it was clear Dismas' wife was missing in action, to the finish. I very much appreciated the commitment this man made to his wife. While not sure what was going on between her and her friend Ron, he still honored their commitment and made her his first priority. I will definitely look for more books by this author.

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    Posted June 20, 2011

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    Posted August 19, 2011

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    Posted May 17, 2010

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    Posted January 14, 2010

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