Review of Michael Connelly's The Gods of Guilt

The Gods of Guilt by Michael Connelly

If you saw Matthew McConaughey play hustling criminal defense attorney Mickey Haller in The Lincoln Lawyer, you're not the only one. So many Los Angeles lawyers now have an office in the backseat of a Lincoln Town Car that Mickey comes out of the courthouse and climbs into the wrong Lincoln. That, and the opening courtroom scene, are two of the few comic moments in Michael Connelly's fifth series book, The Gods of Guilt (Little, Brown, December 2013).

Mickey has become increasingly melancholy since 2011's The Fifth Witness, when he ran for district attorney and lost (though his fans thank God for that). His teenage daughter, Hayley, lives with his first ex-wife and has refused to see him since a client he got off later drove drunk and killed two people. Mickey wonders how he can expect her to forgive him when, deep down, he doesn't forgive himself.

In addition to this personal angst, Mickey deals with a law practice in decline. The economy has forced him to let associates go, and only Jennifer Aronson remains, working on bankruptcies and foreclosures, while Mickey scrounges for criminal clients. When a "paying customer" accused of murder calls, Mickey knows it's likely he can make his "whole nut for the year."

The paying customer is Andre La Cosse, a man who designs websites and enables the operation of prostitutes (a "cyberpimp"). The strange thing is that the prostitute Andre is accused of killing, Giselle Dallinger, told him that if he ever needs a lawyer, Mickey Haller is the best. It turns out Giselle is actually a former client Mickey thought he knew well, Gloria Dayton (from The Lincoln Lawyer), though he didn't know everything he should have. In order to defend Andre, Mickey needs to investigate Gloria––as both victim of murder and long-ago accused.

In addition to his associate, Jennifer, Mickey is assisted by the usual gang of employees: case manager (and ex-wife No. 2) Lorna Taylor; investigator Cisco Wojciechowski, Lorna's current husband; his father's old law partner, David "Legal" Siegel; and driver Earl Briggs, who's working off legal fees he owes Mickey. Val Valenzuela, bail bondsman and process server, shows up. Writer Connelly's other series protagonist, Harry Bosch, who happens to be Mickey's half brother, does a cameo appearance. Unlike Scott Turow, Connelly tells us next to nothing about these returning supporting characters. In fact, how well do we really know Mickey? Over the course of the series, he hasn't used his narration to psychoanalyze himself. When he does talk about his feelings here, mostly about his personal gods of guilt and the jury who judges the guilt of his clients, he's unnatural and pompous.

Mickey is better when he focuses on how our legal system works, grinding down everyone ensnared in it or part of it, and the backstory of secrets, corruption and double dealing behind the current case. He shines when he shares his knowledge of LA (his restaurant talk makes me feel like booking a flight as well as a table). Mickey dazzles when he's working the angles for a client, interviewing witnesses, plotting legal strategy and performing in the courtroom. The Gods of Guilt is Mickey's detailed report of how he created his defense for Andre La Cosse and how it played out in court. It's a legal procedural rather than a suspenseful legal thriller. If you're looking for unsavory clients, dueling lawyers and a pragmatic, crafty Mickey who dances his socks off before a jury, grab this one.

Review of Michael Connelly's The Closers

The Closers by Michael Connelly

Like the prodigal son returning, he knew he was back in his place now. He was baptized again in the waters of the one true church. The church of the blue religion. And he knew that he would find his salvation in those who were long lost, that he would find it in these musty bibles where the dead lined up in columns and there were ghosts on every page.

Yep, Hieronymous "Harry" Bosch is back at the Los Angeles Police Department in Michael Connelly's 2005 book, The Closers. During his three years of retirement, Bosch found himself limping because his body was unbalanced without his holstered gun. Bosch doesn't return to the same old LAPD, however; a new chief is reforming the department after an FBI investigation found widespread corruption, violence, and civil rights violations within the LAPD ranks. He assigns Bosch to the Open-Unsolved Unit, where "the chorus of forgotten voices" of victims and their survivors sing.

Closer Goose Gossage is in baseball's Hall of Fame

Abel Pratt, who's in charge, calls his unit the most noble in the department and likens his officers to pitchers brought into a baseball game in the bottom of the ninth inning to win or lose the game––the closers. If they can't do it, nobody can. While Bosch and old partner, Kiz Rider, find new techniques and technology crucial, they'd get nowhere without the old-fashioned methods of interviewing witnesses, examining evidence, and following a good cop's instincts.

Author Connelly channels Hillary Waugh in this police procedural, in which a cold-hit match of DNA allows Bosch and Rider to re-open the 1988 murder investigation of 16-year-old Rebecca Verloren, who was taken from her Chatsworth bedroom several days before her dead body was found, off a trail on Oat Mountain, behind her family's home. Following the determined Bosch through Los Angeles reminded me of tagging along with Waugh's Homicide Lt. Frank Sessions as he goes about his day in Manhattan North. The attention to detail is remarkable; only the lint in the detectives' pockets goes unreported.

After a couple of series books that seemed phoned in, Connelly delivers a solid fifteenth that deals with the toll of violence over time. Rebecca's murder was "like a stone thrown into a lake," creating ripples that affected many lives. Her mother turns her slain daughter's room into a museum and can't bear the thought of moving; her father, a talented chef, can't tolerate staying. A plaque in her memory at Hillside Prep is worn smooth by all the touching. Rebecca's best friends can't forget her. The unsolved case cast a shadow over its original investigating officers, and it grips Rider and Bosch.

Bosch is a terrific fictional character, and this book features his picks in music, movies, and Los Angeles spots that Bosch fans have come to expect. The former Vietnam tunnel rat remains both the driven cop of the past––although some of his skills are a little rusty––and the solitary guy who hooks up with the occasional woman and longs for his young daughter, who is out of the country with her mother. As usual, Bosch runs up against a superior with a grudge and risks his badge––this time, in a cold case with "high jingo," meaning it involves departmental politics and possible corruption and cover-up. Back at the LAPD's Parker Center, he settles down at his desk across from Rider and opens the murder book with a sigh of relief. At the end of The Closers, Bosch resolves "to carry on the mission" and promises "always to speak for the dead." I'm glad he's back.