I first learned about crime fiction from my father Dan Riordan and his brother Paul. They were old school gents and always called crimes novels “mysteries.” I was introduced to all the greats: Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler, Mickey Spillane and Agatha Christie, Ross Macdonald and John D. MacDonald. It was always one-way traffic, I would read the books they gave me, not the other way around.
That traffic pattern changed in 2005 when I sent them both a copy of a new novel by Michael Connelly: The Lincoln Lawyer, the first book in what would become a long-running series starring Los Angeles criminal defense lawyer, Michael “Mickey” Haller. By 2005, both Dan and Paul preferred hardcovers that were easy on the eyes, so I bought them both large-print hardcover copies of the book.
But that’s not where this story starts. This story starts in 1944 with three brothers leaving Massachusetts and shipping out to the War in the Pacific Theater.
Daniel R. Riordan looked something like Glenn Ford in Pocketful of Miracles and Fate is the Hunter and could always read a map. So, when he enlisted the Army Air Force christened him a navigator/bombardier, and he flew his missions in six-man crews in B-25 Mitchells, the warhorse of the Pacific Theater. Dan made it through the War unscathed physically, but what he read on his maps and saw through his bomb sights shaped him for the remainder of his long life.
Paul H. Riordan served as a Marine in the extreme heat and light of the Pacific. In 1944, Paul and his Battalion waded ashore on the island of Peleliu where they clashed with the enemy in a battle so fierce that it has been described by the National Museum of the Marine Corps as “the bitterest battle of the war for the Marines” The wounds Uncle Paul received on Peleliu, both physical and emotional, were so deep that he needed more than a year in Australia to recover.
Walter A. Riordan, Dan and Paul’s big brother, was not so lucky. On the morning of June 22, 1944, Army Air Force 1st Lt. Walter A. Riordan took off from Hollandia Airfield in Dutch New Guinea piloting a Douglas A-20 Havoc. Sgt. Stanley Emmick was Walter’s gunner, manning the plane’s .50 caliber machine gun. They were part of a strike mission in support of General MacArthur’s summer campaign to retake New Guinea and the Philippines. The AAF described the weather that morning as CAVU – ceiling and visibility unlimited – and Walter and his squadron dropped their payloads on the island of Noemfoor and banked for home. Walter’s A-20 Havoc was last seen by his squadron off the eastern tip of Noemfoor, a territory now known as the Papua Province. When Walter’s A-20 didn’t return to Hollandia Airfield, he and Sgt Emmick were listed as MIA – Missing In Action. In 1946, MIA status was changed to KIA – Killed in Action – after search parties could not find a trace of Walter’s A-20.
My uncle Paul stayed in the Pacific after the end of the War to recover from his wounds. While recovering, Paul helped search for missing airmen like his big brother Walter. After Walter was declared KIA, Paul signed off on the death certificate and took the long ride home to Massachusetts, eventually settling in Brewster at the elbow of Cape Cod. Paul used his law degree from Boston College to hang a shingle and start what would become a long-running practice as the local criminal defense lawyer, practicing law out his office in the basement of his duplex home on Blackberry Lane in Brewster, Massachusetts, his shingle on the front lawn, overlooking Long Pond.
I spent my summers on the Cape and, for me, Paul H. Riordan, Attorney at Law, was the original Mickey Haller, taking calls at all hours of the long summer nights from the friendly local cops and the less than friendly State Police Troopers who patrolled the roadways of the Cape. Paul would head off to lockup to meet his new clients, a mix of drunk drivers, barroom brawlers and assorted malcontents. I would look forward to hearing his stories in the morning. Paul, with his tweed jackets, his carefully trimmed mustache and his ever-present pipe, reminded me of lawyers Jimmy Stewart and Arthur O’Connell in Otto Preminger’s adaptation of Justice John D. Volker’s Anatomy of a Murder.
It was during those long summer days on the Cape when I decided that I wanted to give law school a shot and become a courtroom lawyer like Paul.
In the Pacific, Dan and Paul developed their lifelong passion for reading. For soldiers in the Pacific Theater, boredom was the “unseen enemy,” to borrow Lieutenant Doug Roberts memorable description in his last letter to Ensign Frank Pulver. There were few distractions available to the soldiers. No telephone calls, no text messages, and no facetime. Letters were few and far between and television didn’t even exist. Books were one of the only distractions available to soldiers. My Dad and my Uncle learned to read books the way prisoners read; devouring anything they could get their hands on – westerns, histories, biographies – you name it.
But mystery novels were their passion. And they both embraced the copies of The Lincoln Lawyer that I gifted them in a way I had not seen them embrace a new book in years.
Paul and Dan read and re-read the novel and we talked about it often. I was a crime lawyer living in Los Angeles, walking the same streets and appearing in the same courtrooms as Connelly’s Mickey Haller, so we had plenty to talk about.
My father and uncle survived the War, but eventually life caught up with them. After they passed on to meet their big brother Walter, my family packed up their remains. While taking inventory, I found the large-print hardcover copies of The Lincoln Lawyer on the bookcases closest to their beds.
I kept those copies for myself.
Today, when I look at those old hardcover copies of The Lincoln Lawyer on my bookcase, I can see a flicker, like an old movie reel, of my Uncle Paul and my Father Dan, books in hand, reading glasses on, feet up in their favorite reclining chairs, lost in reading.
***
The Lincoln Lawyer series has spawned six best-selling novels, several cameo appearances in Michael Connelly’s flagship series, the Harry Bosch novels, a Brad Furman directed feature film starring Matthew McConaughy in the titular role, and a David E. Kelly series on Netflix starring Manuel Garcia-Rulfo.
On October 31 of this year, Michael Connelly announced that production on Season 2 of the Netflix series had begun.
When I read Connelly’s announcement, I thought about my father Dan and my uncle Paul. They never got to read the Lincoln Lawyer sequels or see McConaughey or Garcia-Rulfo play the role. So I decided to do it for them, reading all of Haller books in sequence, and watching the feature film and the series.
I started with the novels. What I discovered was a series of courtroom novels that constantly amazed me.
And that discovery really galls me.
It galls me because I can’t believe how much great material Connelly repeatedly has at his disposal. I have logged countless hours in countless criminal courtrooms in front of countless judges all over Los Angeles. The courtroom is like oxygen for me; I need to breathe the air of a courtroom, any courtroom, to really feel alive. The reality of the criminal courtrooms I know so well is one I am always looking for and rarely encounter in fiction.
But when Michael Connelly puts Mickey Haller into the courtroom, I was right there with him, breathing the same air. Novel after novel, Connelly immersed me in the singular sights and sounds of the criminal courtroom, “the world without truth,” as Mickey Haller describes it.
I found myself looking forward to Mickey Haller’s keen observations about courts and cases, strategy and tactics; taking notes in my Daybook; underlining passages to return to later; and frequently shaking my head, wondering where and how Connelly got material this good. The Lincoln Lawyer series is so accurate, both in and out of the courtroom, that law students interested in becoming trial lawyers should set aside their law books and start reading this series – pronto.
I also re-discovered the excellent 2011 film directed by Brad Furman and starring Matthew McConaughey in the title role. In this movie, you can see the exact moment in McConaughey’s career where he seized the opportunity to make the most of a great script and a stellar cast of Marisa Tomei, Bryan Cranston and William H. Macy, to move away from the comfort of rom-coms to the dangerous waters of The Dallas Buyer’s Club, The Wolf of Wall Street, and the first season of True Detective.
Finally, I spent ten hours visiting the Lincoln Lawyer universe created by David E. Kelly and showrunner Ted Humphrey for Netflix. The 2022 reboot of The Lincoln Lawyer provided Executive Producer Michael Connelly, aided and abetted by Kelly and Humphrey, a platform to re-invent Mickey Haller and explore different story arcs for Haller and everyone around him. That re-invention includes the clever casting of the Manuel Garcia-Rulfo in the title role and the introduction of Jazz Raycole as Izzy, Mickey’s client who becomes his driver.
Izzy knows her way around the streets of Los Angeles. More importantly, Izzy understands what happens on those streets.
Jazz Raycole’s scenes with Garcia-Rulfo are my favorite part of the series. Their scenes together allow the laconic Garcia-Rulfo to open up and let the audience in; illuminating his tactics and his motivations. \
I hope to see Izzy return in Season Two.
The scenes between Izzy and Mickey helped me discover the answer to the mystery of why Michael Connelly’s Mickey Haller was so popular with my father Dan and my uncle Paul.
The answer can be found in the first pages of the first book in the series, The Lincoln Lawyer, the entrance to the Lincoln Lawyer Universe. The answer is in Mickey Haller’s voice. From the start, Haller’s voice rings true and stays true for the next five novels in the series.
And that’s important because, with the exception of the third novel in the series, The Reversal, where Haller switches sides and becomes a prosecutor, Mickey Haller narrates every scene in every book. Thankfully, Haller is a great storyteller with a self-deprecating sense of humor and a fine eye for detail – three qualities that also happen to make him a great courtroom lawyer. Haller’s life may be a mess, but when he walks into the courtroom, he is a killer.
Mickey is a self-reliant, sharp-tongued, wise guy with a cynic’s eye towards the justice system, the “world without truth,” and a very personal code of conduct, a code that is definitely not in line with the rule of law, but is every bit in line with Mickey’s sense of justice.
The Lincoln Lawyer was a smash hit from the drop. The book was a bestseller and received glowing reviews. In the Sunday New York Times, Marilyn Stasio wrote:
“Mastering the form on his first try, Connelly delivers a powerhouse drama fueled by cynicism and driven by a criminal defense lawyer named Michael Haller (‘People call me Mickey’) who works for the scum of the earth and makes no apologies.”
The Los Angeles Times called the book a “thrill ride you won’t want to put it down until you’ve navigated its rapids to the end.”
The novel won the 2006 Shamus Award and the Macavity Award for “Best Novel.” In 2010, the book was nominated in the “Best Mystery Novel of the Decade” category of the Barry Awards, edged out for the final award by Stieg Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.
But I don’t choose crime books because of awards or accolades, and neither did Dan Riordan or Paul Riordan. We read crime to get hooked on a feeling, hooked on a plot, hooked on a character.
Maybe all three.
With The Lincoln Lawyer, Michael Connelly hit the trifecta.
My favorite entry in the series is the second novel in the series, The Brass Verdict, where the courtroom scenes really crackle. I know that Marilyn Stasio declared that Connelly “mastered the form” on the first try, but I disagree. I think Connelly mastered the form with The Brass Verdict.
The Brass Verdict opens with Mickey Haller’s summation of American Justice System and his role in it – and it is a punch to the gut:
Everybody lies.
Cops lie. Lawyers lie. Witnesses lie. The victims lie.
A trial is a contest of lies. . .
The trick if you are sitting at the defense table is to be patient. To wait. Not for any lie. But for the one you can grab onto and forge like hot iron into a sharpened blade. You then use that blade to rip the case open and spill its guts out on the floor.
That’s my job, to forge the blade. To sharpen it. To use it without mercy or conscience. To be the truth in a place where everybody lies.
Amen Brother Haller.
In my line of work, I have trained myself to “find the lie and prove the lie.” Like Haller, I know that every criminal trial is about finding the lie. And proving the lie.
If you can prove the lie, you prevail.
To my surprise, most prosecutors, most detectives, and most defense lawyers never truly learn that lesson.
Michael Connelly learned this lesson on his own dime.
And Mickey Haller proves it in every book in the series.
Well, the cloak on the wall tells me that it’s time to go, so I’ll leave you to discover the other installments in the series: The Fifth Witness, The Gods of Guilt and The Law of Innocence.
There are riches to mine in each volume.
***
Before I go, I want to give the last word to my father Dan and his brother Paul. No one has ever written their story, and maybe no one ever will. But were both American originals, just like Mickey Haller.
I think that Dan and Paul read, and re-read, their copies of The Lincoln Lawyer because they wanted to spend more time with Mickey Haller. I can identify with that feeling. Michael Connelly has found the magic to animate his lead character, Mickey Haller, and the world around Haller. Connelly gets the details of Haller’s world right, both big and small, and I think Dan and Paul wanted to spend more time in the world Connelly created.
My father, Daniel R. Riordan, kept his Holy Cross College graduation yearbook by his bed and he would methodically mark every classmate passing. At the end of his long life – at 97 years – he was the last man standing from his class.
Maybe when all your friends have passed on, the pleasure of spending a few hours with a friend like Mickey Haller can ease the pain and the loneliness that my Dad must have felt as he got older and his world got smaller.
Mickey Haller becomes a friend who is there for you when others cannot be.
In other words, Michael Connelly’s Mickey Haller is “good company.”
I choose those two words carefully. Growing up, I knew that “good company” was the highest praise my father Dan would bestow on a person, and I also knew that Dan Riordan, a child of the Depression and the Pacific Theater of War, was stingy with his praise.
Very stingy.
Dan Riordan would only bestow the title “good company” on the most deserving people he knew.
In my life, he never once called me “good company,” and, you know what, maybe he was right about that.
But Dan Riordan never failed to describe my wife Vittoria as “good company” and he was certainly right about that. And you know what, Maria Vittoria Riordan Zanetti, or “Vic” as Dan Riordan called her, is the very best company in the world.
The kind of company you can spend a lifetime with.
And so too is Mickey Haller, the Lincoln Lawyer.
Long may The Lincoln Lawyer ride.
