Justice Delayed: Southern California Legal Thriller #2

by Rachel Sinclair

  “You’re doing God’s work,” one lady said to me, tears in her eyes. “I’ve been reading about you. You saved those girls.”

  Other women came up and said similar things.

  “I was abused when I was young, and I would have loved to have you on my side.”

  “I’ve been praying for you and the girls since I found out that this happened.”

  “That guy should be burned alive. He’s too cowardly to come here and face the music, and I hope that you cut his nuts off in court.”

  And so on.

  I felt embarrassed by all the attention. I was used to people hating me, because, usually, I was defending some guy or girl who everybody assumed was a scumbag, and I had gotten my share of death threats over the years because of it. But I knew that my role in this case was going to get me nothing but praise, and too much praise always embarrassed me. I didn’t know why, but I always have had a hard time accepting too many compliments.

  I got into the courthouse and took a deep breath as I took the express elevator to the 13th Floor. I tried not to feel like I was unlucky, even though the courtroom was on the 13th floor. Maybe things were going to be unlucky for Jonathan and Carl, but not for me.

  Still, I couldn’t quite calm my frayed nerves.

  When I got into the courtroom, Jonathan was there. He didn’t have a second-chair. His enormous girth was straining at the buttons on his shirt. He didn’t yet have on a jacket, and I could see sweat stains on his armpits. He was wearing cowboy boots and grey flannel pants, and his face was really red and blotchy. I wondered if he was going to have a heart attack in front of the jury, because he was breathing heavily and sweating so much. Then again, he was really overweight, so maybe sweating and breathing heavily were typical for him.

  I went over to him, and I could smell stale whiskey on his breath. I wondered how stale the whiskey was. Was it from the night before, or was it from that morning?

  He brought out a water bottle, and I could smell that it was pure vodka, and I had my answer.

  This is going to be interesting.

  “So, you ready for this?” I asked him.

  “Lady, you don’t know how ready I am for this,” he said. “I can’t wait for you to put on your evidence. I’ll be cross examining all your lying bitches on the stand, and I can’t wait for that.”

  I rolled my eyes. So, that was how he was going to play it. He was going to show that my traumatized plaintiffs were “lying bitches.”

  Yeah, that was going to go over well.

  Christian arrived next, and, after everybody was assembled in the courtroom, Judge Foster came on the bench.

  “We’ll be calling in the jury pool soon, but, for now, I would like to entertain any motions that the counselors might have. Now, Ms. Collins, do you have any motions for the court to entertain?”

  “No, your honor,” I said. “But I reserve the right to file a motion in limine at a later date.”

  “Mr. Augusto?” he asked Jonathan.

  “Yes, your honor. I would like to move for a directed verdict for the defendant. There’s no evidence that any kind of sexual activity happened on the estate of Carl Williams at any time, and there’s ample evidence that all of the girls who were at these parties were lying about their age. They all had fake IDs because they wanted to make money off my client. He’s a victim in all of this. He can’t come back to the United States because of all the lies and deception. So, I would like a directed verdict now. If this circus of a trial is allowed to go forward, my client will be prejudiced.”

  I just looked at Jonathan and wondered if he knew anything about trying a case. I looked at the judge, who was staring at Jonathan with a look on his face that said “this guy can’t be this stupid.”

  But maybe he was.

  “Counselor, you do know that I cannot enter a directed verdict until I’ve at least had the chance to hear the plaintiff’s evidence, right?” Judge Foster said disbelievingly.

  “I do know that usually that’s the way it goes, but this is exigent circumstances. If this trial goes on, my client will be defamed on the stand. I would like to prevent that from happening, that is all.”

  Judge Foster sat back in his chair and put his hand on his chin. “Mr. Augusto, I’m tempted right now to hold you in contempt of court. You are disrespecting this court by showing up here three sheets to the wind, and I can smell the vodka coming from that water bottle of yours. I refuse to believe that you don’t know the basic rules of evidence, and, if you are truly serious about your motion for a directed verdict, then I’m afraid that I’m going to have to at least order you to take 20 hours of continuing legal education courses that focus on legal procedure.”

  Was this guy for real? Was he really that terrible of an attorney? Or was he trying to lay a trap? Reel me in, make me think that this case was going to be cake, and then run away with the case because I had a false sense of confidence.

  Whatever. I was going to approach this case the same way, no matter if the guy was a total idiot or not. But, at the moment, it looked like this guy truly was an idiot.

  “Okay, then,” Judge Foster said. “For now, I’ll not hold you in contempt of court. However, if you show up drunk again tomorrow, I will reconsider. And I hope, for the sake of your client, that you get your act together, Mr. Augusto. I will now call in the jury pool.”

  Chapter 34

  For the next six hours, I questioned the jury pool about various aspects of the case. I only needed 9 people to get a verdict, not all 12, so I knew that I could afford there to be three people who were not on my side and were never going to be. I also knew that I didn’t have to prove my case beyond a reasonable doubt. I only needed to prove that it was more likely than not my case was true. The standard was called “preponderance of the evidence,” and the burden of proof was considerably less than in a criminal case.

  I obviously wanted to get a certain kind of juror. I wanted as many moms on the jury as possible. I especially wanted moms who had daughters at home. If those daughters were minor children, all the better. While I couldn’t possibly get an entire jury made up of mothers of young daughters, if I could just get a few women who could imagine their own child up on the stand, testifying about doing disgusting things with older men who were exploiting them, I would be golden.

  I did manage to get four such women on the jury, after everything was said and done. One was black, one was Hispanic, and two were white. The other jurors were made up of men, women without children, and two senior citizens.

  Overall, though, I got the jury that I wanted.

  Now it was time to shine.

  Chapter 35

  The next day, it was time to get the case underway. My opening statement was first. I went through the facts, methodically, step by step. I told the jury about what they were going to hear, and I warned them that it was going to be disturbing. To say the very least. I told them about Carl, about how he charged his clients $50,000 a month, therefore this ring was extremely elite, and that he must not be able to get away with doing what he was doing to these girls. The criminal justice system can’t hold him to account, at least not until the guy was extradited from Sweden, and I made sure that the jury knew that the prosecutors were not trying very hard to get Carl over here to face charges.

  In other words, if they didn’t bring Carl to justice, he was just going to get away with it completely. They couldn’t let that happen.

  And then came Jonathan’s opening statement. Jonathan didn’t seem drunk at that moment, so that was clearly a step up from the previous day. But that was all I was able to say about his performance.

  “There’s not a single shred of evidence that any sexual activity happened on Mr. Williams’ estate, not a scintilla,” he thundered, his face getting redder and redder, while a vein popped out of his forehead. He was breathing heavily and he groaned as he moved around the courtroom. “Were there parties? Sure, there were parties. Lots of parties. Fun parties, too. Men would come from a
ll over the country, from other countries, even, to attend these parties. But sex? No, nobody was having sex at these parties. Mr. Williams was very clear that if anybody had sex on his premises, that person would be asked to leave and never come back.

  And these girls who attended these parties, they were underaged, sure. But they all presented with fake IDs. How can you tell that a girl is underaged these days? Kids grow up fast these days, they really do, and I can’t tell you how many 13 year olds are running around who could pass for 25. This is a different age these days, a different time from when you and I were growing up. Hell, men are passing for women, women passing for men, we got men in the ladies bathroom and vice-versa these days. You can’t tell who is a male and who’s a female, and you can’t tell who is an adult female and who is a child. You know that’s true. So, when my client hired girls to entertain these men at these parties, and again, all these girls did were entertain the men, these girls gave my client IDs saying that they were 21. My client took them at their word. And remember, they did not have sex with these men, ever. They just flirted with them, made them feel good. They fluffed up the male ego, we men have fragile egos, you know, and these young girls made these men feel young.

  So, that’s all it was. These men showed up at the parties because they wanted to feel young, and swimming in a beautiful heated saltwater pool with young girls made them feel that way. Flirting with young girls and having them flirt back, that was good for their egos. That was all it was. Just a lot of fragile male egos being propped up by beautiful young women, young women who lied about how old they were. And these women, they’re going to tell you that they had sex with these men, but that’s a lie, plain and simple. They’re just trying to get money out of my client, and that’s why they’re going to lie. Oh, you’re going to hear from people who worked these parties, cooks and waitresses and people like that, and they’re going to tell you that they saw men kissing young women in the pool. Nothing illegal about that. Men can kiss young women consensually. And these people are going to talk about all the flirting going on in these parties. Again, not illegal.

  Here is what nobody is going to testify to on the stand. Nobody is going to testify that they witnessed any of these men groping or molesting these young ladies. Nobody is going to testify that they witnessed any kind of sexual act between these men and the ladies. Not oral and not intercourse. Nobody can testify otherwise. Well, nobody who is disinterested, anyhow. The girls, they’re going to lie and say that they had sex with these men, but, again, they’re only after money.

  And that’s the bottom line here, ladies and gentlemen. The only witnesses who are going to testify that there was sexual contact between men and underaged ladies are the ladies themselves. There is absolutely no unmotivated evidence that says otherwise.

  I would like all of you to set aside your prejudices and forget about what you’ve heard about this case. Everything that you’ve heard in the media has been lies, damned lies. Thank you very much.”

  He sat down and I drew a breath. I looked over at the jury, and saw that their expressions were changed. I also noticed that, while Jonathan was talking about the fragile male ego and how nobody could testify that there was sex involved, jury members were looking at each other and nodding their heads.

  They weren’t going to fall for that BS, were they?

  They just might. Jonathan was right about one thing. I deposed everybody who were involved in these parties, all the waitresses, all the hostesses, and Jacqueline Price, the “house mother,” and none of them actually saw evidence of groping or molesting, let alone hard evidence about sexual contact.

  I saw in their faces that they might fall for that BS.

  And if they did, I was going to be in trouble.

  Chapter 36

  The first person I decided to call was Steven Barnes. He was the accountant for Carl, and he was the guy who was going to be able to testify that the amount that was collected for dues from these men was $50,000 a month. I briefly let Jonathan’s unexpectedly strong opening statement rile me, but then I knew that it was up to me to show that it was against common sense that these men would show up to these parties and not have sex with these women.

  Who would pay $50,000 a month to attend a party where the only thing that was getting stroked was your ego? I mean, really. Come on, now. Who is going to pay that kind of money to flirt and kiss young girls?

  And this accountant would also testify that the girls were paid good money to “entertain” these men. They were paid $1000 a party, each girl. It beggared belief that the girls were paid that kind of money if all they were doing was flirting and kissing these men. And I also knew that the staff was going to testify that the men would disappear with the girls for long periods of time. That was circumstantial evidence right there that sex acts were happening.

  Steven Barnes was tall, with a receding hairline, a long nose and was bespectacled in cool-looking black-rimmed Roberto Cavalli glasses. He was around 40 years old, and I had to admit that he was definitely nerd-hot.

  He took the stand, took the oath, stated his name, and I got to work.

  “Now, Mr. Barnes, you are the accountant for Carl Williams, is that correct?”

  “Well, yes, that is correct. I mean, Mr. Williams was a client of my firm, and various accountants worked on various aspects of his businesses. He has a lot of interests in a lot of different businesses, and my role was as the accountant for his, I guess I should say it was his party business.”

  “And by party business, you mean?”

  “Well, Mr. Williams held parties almost every night of the week, and men paid a monthly fee to be a part of these parties. And these parties, since they were money-making ventures, were considered by my firm to be a separate business. And I was the accountant for this business venture.”

  I snorted a little bit when he talked about the pedophilia ring as a “business venture,” and as his “party business.” Is that what they’re calling child rape these days?

  “And how much did the clients of this business pay as a monthly fee?”

  “They paid $50,000 a month,” he said.

  “Every client paid the same?”

  “Yes. That was the membership fee, if you will, for the men who wanted to attend these parties.”

  “And is that amount usual, in your experience? I mean, have you ever had the experience of accounting for a business where men would pay $50,000 per month simply for the privilege of attending parties?”

  “Well, no, I have never seen that before. I mean, I’ve accounted for businesses that charged membership fees for different things, but not that large of a monthly amount, no.”

  “So, would you say that it was unusual that men would pay $50,000 per month just for the privilege of attending parties, then?”

  “Yes, very unusual.”

  “Like, for instance, you’ve accounted for country clubs, right?”

  “Right. I have.”

  “And how much are average dues at a country club?”

  “Less than $1,000 a month, plus an initiation fee,” he said. “I’ve also accounted for elite golf clubs, some of the most elite in the world, and the highest initiation fee for the most exclusive golf club is $500,000. But even that golf club does not charge a monthly fee as high as Mr. William’s fee.”

  “And the men who were a part of Mr. Williams’ party business had to sign a one-year contract, isn’t that right?”

  “Right. They were obligated to sign a one-year contract, yes.”

  “So, basically, these men were paying $600,000 a year dues, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, that is correct.”

  “And the girls who attended these clubs, they got paid, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And how much were they paid?”

  “Typically each girl was paid $1,000 a party.”

  “And how many clients did Mr. Williams have at a given time?”

  “He capped his clients at 100.”
>
  “So, he had 100 clients, all of whom paid him $50,000 a month, then?”

  “Right.”

  “That’s $5,000,000 a month for him, isn’t it?”

  “Right.”

  $60 million a year?”

  “Correct.”

  “And do you know how many years Mr. Williams has been doing his party business?”

  “10 years.

  “So, $60 million a year times 10. That would be $600 million he’s made over the past ten years off his girls. Isn’t that right?”

  “Correct. I mean, that’s gross, of course. Net was much less, as he had a lot of expenses, such as paying the girls $1,000 a night, and paying his staff. But yes, it was definitely a profit-making venture.”

  “I have nothing further.”

  I sat down, and Jonathan stood up. “Now, Mr. Barnes, you stated that average country club dues are less than $1,000 a month, but that some golf clubs charge an initiation fee of $500,000. Isn’t that right?”

  “Right.”

  “And there is no initiation fee for Mr. Williams’ club, isn’t that right?”

  “Right.”

  “So, even though the dues for Mr. Williams’ club were $50,000 a month, or $600,000 a year, that isn’t out of line with elite clubs around the world, is it? I mean, after all, there are no initiation fees, so really the men are paying the same yearly as men pay for elite clubs, maybe even less, isn’t that right?”

  “Right.”

  “Nothing further.”

  Huh. He didn’t even try to address why it was the girls were making so much money at this “club.”

  The next few witnesses I called were the staff. I called hostesses, waitresses, cooks and anybody and everybody who saw the interactions between the girls and the men. They all testified that they saw these men flirting with these women, and kissing them, but no petting. They all testified that the girls disappeared with the men for hours at a time, but nobody could testify that there was sex happening at Carl’s house of horrors.