Much of what makes Michael
Connelly's mystery novels so enjoyable is how sympathetic Connelly is to his
heroes' perspectives, even when they contradict his other heroes. When Connelly
writes about crime reporter Jack McEvoy, he rails against uncooperative cops.
When he follows FBI agent Rachel Walling or LAPD detective Harry Bosch, he
records their gripes about newshounds and lawyers, and their respective
frustrations in dealing with the local authorities and the feds. And when
Connelly focuses on criminal attorney Mickey Haller—as he does in his
latest novel, The Brass Verdict—then all his characters' past rants about
crook-coddling shysters go out the window.
When The Brass Verdict opens, Haller is making
tentative plans to return to his practice after taking a long time to recover
from a gunshot wound suffered at the end of Connelly's bestseller The
Lincoln Lawyer.
Haller's plans are accelerated when his colleague Jerry Vincent is murdered,
and Haller is assigned all of Vincent's open cases, including the
highest-profile murder trial in Hollywood. Meanwhile, Harry Bosch is sniffing
around, investigating Vincent's murder and impeding Haller's attempts to
prepare his defense of a splashy independent-film producer. The irony? Bosch
and Haller are half-brothers, though only Bosch knows the truth of their
relationship. And though their connection has little to do with The Brass
Verdict's
plot—which involves European mobsters, showbiz arrogance, and various
levels of institutional corruption—the fraternal hook between two of
Connelly's recurring characters reinforces his vision of a symbiotic justice
system, where even the opponents are inadvertently in league.
As often happens with Connelly mysteries, The
Brass Verdict's story
weakens as its resolution approaches, once it all becomes a matter of revealing
who's who and assigning everyone a fate—some apt, some not. But until the
requisite chases and confrontations, The Brass Verdict fascinates with its thousand little
procedural details, from how a law firm's billing system works to how lawyers
skirt the line between clever advocacy and unethical behavior. The novel's
title is a slang term for a bullet fired by anyone frustrated with the
bureaucracy and double-checking of law enforcement. But in Connelly's world, a
well-crafted legal filing can have just as devastating an effect, and can also
assure that justice is done—after a fashion.