by Bill Sage
A few minutes later Roth and Lopez went to Franco’s for lunch.
26
THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER REPORTER was ecstatic that he’d been in court when a spectacular human-interest story went down. A gangster on trial for murder came to the defense of a deputy district attorney.
The Register put it on the front page.
The story carried interviews with Judge Roth, Goldman, and Wagner. It quoted Goldman saying, “Mr. Mangano's a real hero. He proved that today. It's ironic that he fights for the system even though it’s being used against him for political purposes. The jury will not stand for the way he’s being persecuted.”
On the following day, the Register ran a follow-up article about how mobsters usually kill only their own kind and not policemen or prosecutors. The article said some mobsters, and maybe Nick Mangano was one, even respected prosecutors for the job they did for society.
The Register ran a letter to the editor from Fred Burton on the editorial page. He wrote that it was unfair that the judge wouldn’t let Mangano post bail. "I thought people accused of crimes were supposed to be innocent until proven guilty," he wrote. “Why is it any different for him?”
When Roth read the letter, he chuckled. It was written by Lopez.
So far, so good, he thought.
27
SINCE JAKE HAD TO STICK AROUND until the Mangano trial was over, he moved from his hotel to Balboa Island. It was part of Newport Beach and on the harbor. Linda had given Al the name of her friend who was a real estate agent. She specialized in leasing places on the Island and found Jake a one-bedroom apartment, one block from the water.
His neighbors thought he was polite, not very talkative and scary. The surfer living across the street told his roommate, “You don’t want to open your door on that guy’s Lincoln.”
Now that Jake lived on Balboa Island, he and Al began meeting at Chewy Browns, a beach bar where locals and surfers hung out. Al had been there many times with Bradford and Lopez, two or three times with Linda. Was widely known for its generous pours.
The first time they met there, Jake was already sitting at the bar drinking Scotch when Al showed up. As he took a stool next to Jake Al had to laugh to himself. Jake looked out of place, like one of the old Purples. Open-collared white-on-white dress shirt, slicked-back hair, and a huge pinky ring.
After sitting down, Al ordered a Scotch for himself. Then he looked at Jake, smiled. “I have to say, you really fit in. Looks like you’ve lived here forever.”
“Glad you noticed,” Jake said, chuckling. He took a quick glance around the room then came back to Al. “Unlike you, I’m not a big fan of the pencil-neck geek look. I see you’ve taken to it very well.”
“At least I have a neck.”
“Yeah, in all its leaded glory.”
Al laughed then Jake did too.
A while later, a table opened near the front door, but three surfer dudes were already walking toward it. Al and Jake jumped up and quickly pounced on it before they could grab it.
When the waitress came to their table, they drained the last of their Scotches and ordered beers. Al got a Heineken and tried to convince Jake to have one too. Jake refused, saying he only drank American beers and ordered a Budweiser.
“You oughta try a Heineken sometime,” Al said.
Jake shook his head. “Foreign beers are for pussies.”
“That’s why I usually drink one when I’m eating cheese or tofu.”
Jake pointed at a Budweiser bottle sitting on the bar. “Look over there. Now that’s a man’s beer.”
“I guess my secret’s out. I better start taking hormone shots,” Al said.
Jake laughed a couple times.
Al said, “You know, all this talking about beer is making me think about burgers. What do you say?” He paused. “Unless you want a salad.”
Jake laughed.
When the waitress brought their beers, Al ordered bacon cheeseburgers and fries.
After she left their table, Jake stared at Al for a second or two. “So how’s the trial going? The way you thought?”
“Couldn’t be better. What I expected. I’m waiting to see what happens in the next two or three days.”
“I told Goldman to do the shit you told me to tell him to do. And like you said, I also told him that if he ever did any time for contempt, Claudio would make it good with a generous bonus. He was okay with it.”
“Claudio buy into it?”
“Oh, yeah. He's got no problem putting out more cash.”
“I’m sure he wants the plan to work.”
Jake nodded and chugged down some beer.
They sat quietly for a while, drinking their beers and checking out the bar crowd. A few minutes later, Jake put down his beer and asked, “What’s going on with Linda? Her bid on the S&L thing.”
“All that’s left now is a final review of all the bids. Although Congressman Hamilton is no longer the company’s CEO, he seems to be the guy making the final decision. So we have to wait and see.”
“A congressman?”
‘Yeah, and get this. He’s the same guy who sent his flunky in to blackmail me.”
Jake paused as he gave Al a perplexed look. “What?”
“It’s funny how all this shit’s coming together.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking. Do you think—”
“Wait, you don’t know the best part.”
“Whaddaya mean?”
“I didn't tell her. He’s anti-Semitic.”
“Oh, that’s great. Just what she needs.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” Al said, nodding. “The inside story is that when he owned a S&L in Long Beach, a Jewish competitor named Silverstein screwed him in financial deal. He never let it go.”
“Fuck ‘im.”
“It comes out when he drinks.”
“Does he know about you two?”
“If he didn’t, he knows now. She told him.”
“Too bad, that could turn to shit. They could try to use her bid against you. Know what I mean?” Jake said.
“We’ll see what happens.”
“Don’t forget, I can take care of it.”
“Jake, forgetaboutit.” Ever since Jake became a full-time mobster, Al teased him by saying “forgetaboutit.”
Jake just looked at Al. “Uh-huh.” He kept staring at him for a few seconds without speaking.
Al took a swig of beer and looked away.
After a few moments, Jake said, “So when am I gonna meet her?”
“I’d like to get the Mangano case over with first. Then we won’t have that hanging over our heads. Let’s wait.”
“Yeah, after it’s over.”
When the waitress brought their burgers and fries, they ordered more beer. Then wolfed down their food, sat back, and scoped out the room again without talking.
Meanwhile, the bar’s regular entertainer started singing his first set of oldies. As he sang a Beatles’ song, Al turned away from Jake and began tapping his fingers on the table in time with the music.
In a voice loud enough to be heard over the lyrics of “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” Jake said, “I thought you liked Mozart and shit like that.”
Al laughed. He knew Jake was trying to bust his balls. It’s what they did ever since their Veterans Club days. He leaned in and said, “I do, but not when I’m drinking beer with someone on the FBI’s most wanted list.”
“Hey, dickbreath, I’m proud of my accomplishments. What I do makes the world a better place. You do shit. When you’re on the supreme court, let me know and we can talk.”
“Keep talking like that and I’ll transfer the Mangano case to another judge. Then I’ll watch as you twist in the wind, wishing you weren’t such an asshole.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped that Polish kid with the pool cue.”
28
AFTER GOLDMAN’S MOTION WAS DENIED, they started the lengthy process of selecting a jury. But Goldman threw a monkey wr
ench into the procedure by challenging the County’s method of selecting citizens for jury service. He put the Orange County Jury Commissioner on the stand and that dragged out the case for several days.
Roth put an end to it when Goldman wanted to subpoena the jury commissioners from Los Angeles and San Diego Counties.
So much for having a “one-week trial.”
Then came the tedious questioning of prospective jurors. That lasted longer than Roth thought too, but finally the attorneys selected a jury. Seven women, five men.
Wilcox made his opening statement then put on his case-in-chief.
Most of the early testimony was boring. Salvatore Palermo's wife identified his body from the photographs taken at the scene of the murder. The coroner testified on the cause of death. The sheriff’s department never found the shotgun. There was no other physical evidence other than some scattered buckshot and blood stains found in the parking lot.
Wilcox called Deputy Acuna to testify about the photo lineup again. Acuna told the jury how he showed the Maddens the photos and that they picked out his picture.
Goldman didn’t object to anything.
“You may cross-examine the witness, Mr. Goldman,” Judge Roth said.
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Goldman rose and walked toward the witness stand. He never used the podium like Wilcox or referred to notes when he questioned witnesses.
As Roth watched Goldman take a position near the jury box, he had to admit Goldman was an excellent cross-examiner. He seemed to have an instinct for how to set up a witness with a few harmless questions before his final devastating zinger. And he generally asked questions in an easy manner, using conversational words instead of pompous ones. Too bad he ruined it with all his unethical conduct.
Standing about 15 feet in front of Acuna, Goldman said, “Good morning, Deputy Acuna.”
“Good morning, sir.”
Then Goldman put his right hand in his pants pocket and tilted his head slightly forward. “Didn't you sort of wink or hold your breath a little when you saw the Maddens looking at Mangano's photo?”
“No, sir, I didn't. I’ve handled many murder cases before and it was just another case.”
“Oh, so you’re saying it didn’t matter to you what they did? You were just going to let your whole investigation go down the tubes, even though you wanted to pin this murder on Mangano?”
Wilcox leapt from his chair. “Your Honor, I object to the question. It’s argumentative and assumes facts not in evidence. He’s also attacking the witness’s character in an unethical way.”
Then he burned Goldman an angry look.
“Sustained,” Judge Roth ruled. “You don’t have to answer the question, Deputy Acuna.”
Goldman let out a loud sigh and looked at the jury.
Boring in on Acuna again, he asked, “So you want the jury to believe that you were just going to let a guy you wanted to nail for murder get off merely because the witnesses weren’t able to see it your way?”
“Your Honor, he’s doing it again. It’s gross misconduct,” Wilcox said. “Badgering the witness and acting unprofessionally. He’s deliberately undermining the People’s right to have a fair trial.”
“Ask him a direct question,” Judge Roth said. He should have ordered Goldman to not ask questions in a way that disparages the witness. But Roth knew Goldman was just following Jake’s instructions and Roth wanted all the attorney misconduct Goldman could deliver.
“Were you or were you not content to let a guy you wanted to be found guilty get off because the witnesses couldn’t identify him?”
Wilcox looked like he was going to object, but Acuna smiled at him and he didn’t. “Unlike you, Mr. Goldman,” Acuna said now smirking, “I have to live by the rules. Yes, I would.”
Goldman gave Acuna an angry look then bit his lip, nodded at him. “We don't need to hear your childish remarks, soldier boy.”
Judge Roth gave Goldman another five days in jail for demeaning a witness. Now he was facing ten days in the slammer for contempt of court.
Goldman shrugged it off, looking up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes. Then he buttoned his jacket and headed closer to the witness stand.
Every eye was on him.
As Roth watched Goldman plod closer to Acuna, he chuckled to himself. The way Goldman’s jacket cut into his belly made him look like the Michelin Man with a beard.
Roth saw Jon looking at Goldman too. When Jon caught Roth’s glance, they shared their mutual impressions.
Goldman stopped about 25 feet in front of Acuna. “Deputy Acuna, you wanted the photo lineup to be fair, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Okay, let’s see.” He quickly glanced at the jury then came back to Acuna. “Unlike the witnesses, you knew which one of the six was the suspect, right?”
“Yes, of course. How else could I put photos together for the lineup?”
“But I thought you said you wanted the lineup to be fair?”
“I don’t follow you.”
“Okay, stay with me on this. When you interrogate a suspect, you not only listen to what he’s saying, you also look for nonverbal cues or signals. They are important because they’re involuntary. Am I right?”
“Yes, but I don’t understand.” Acuna took a breath and looked over at Wilcox.
Oh, yeah, you do, Roth thought.
“Deputy, you knew which photo was the suspect’s. Do you think you’re immune from displaying nonverbal messages to witnesses when you’re showing them lineup photos? Like you said, they’re involuntary.”
Wilcox objected. “Your Honor, counsel is getting into never-never land here. This is all hypothetical and irrelevant.”
It was obvious to Judge Roth that Wilcox was worried about this line of questioning. He was grasping for anything he could think of to disrupt Goldman.
“Overruled, you may answer the question.”
“I’ve done this many times and I’m careful about what I say and my mannerisms. I don’t want to influence the witnesses. That’s the way I was trained.”
“But deputy, you already agreed that sending nonverbal messages was involuntary?”
“I can control it, Mr. Goldman.”
“Are you sure?”
Acuna nodded affirmatively, saying, “Yes, I am.”
“If you’re so trained and have such strong self-control, how come you keep giving off nonverbal messages when you’re testifying here? And I’m talking about right now. You nodded when you gave your last answer. You realize you did that, don’t you?”
“I’m not trying to control it here like I would during a lineup.”
Roth glanced over at Wilcox, who was now looking down.
Goldman peered at Acuna then smiled. “Isn’t that really displaying a lack of control?”
Roth sustained Wilcox’s objection.
Goldman continued. “Well, deputy, assuming that nonverbal communication is involuntary, if you really wanted the lineup to be fair like you say you did, you could’ve asked a neutral investigator to put on the lineup instead of you. Wouldn’t that have been the fairer thing to do?”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference. Another deputy would’ve known which one was the suspect anyway.”
“But deputy, not if you don’t tell him.”
There was an agonizing silence in the courtroom. Acuna glanced over at the jury then at Wilcox, who was shifting around in his chair, trying to put on a brave front.
Before Acuna could answer, Goldman said in a scornful tone, “You know, there’s nothing that says you have to tell another investigator which photo is the suspect’s.”
“Your Honor, this is all a lot of fun for Mr. Goldman, but we’re wasting valuable court time on a point that’s irrelevant because it’s speculative and won’t go anywhere.”
“Overruled. You may answer the question, deputy.” Roth thought, Nice try, but no. His objection was baseless.
Acuna answered, “That was not our proc
edure, Mr. Goldman. And besides, a detective is supposed to limit the number of officers on the case, not expand it.”
“That’s your answer? Whatever happened to fairness?”
“Our procedure is fair.”
Since it was getting close to 5:00 and Judge Roth could see the jury was tired, he decided to stop for the day. “I think this is a good time for us to adjourn.”
Stopping here would be good for Goldman. The jury would be going home with his last line of questioning fresh in their minds.
Wilcox didn’t look at Roth, had his head down as he gathered up his papers and shoved them into his briefcase.
29
IT WAS ONE WEEK AFTER JESSE TORRES attacked the deputy district attorney in Roth’s courtroom, and his case came up for sentencing again.
Torres’ attorney Bradford argued Torres was a sick man and that his outburst in court provided further evidence of his illness.
Wagner took issue with Bradford and said Torres was violence-prone and should go to prison. “He’s a very dangerous person and going to state prison may be his only chance of straightening out his life. Many inmates have come out of prison and have gone on to lead very successful lives.”
“A lot of guys die in prison too, Your Honor,” Bradford countered.
“Just to let you know, Mr. Bradford, the Department of Corrections has reported that many inmates have benefited from their years of confinement,” Roth said, eyeing Bradford with a feigned serious look on his face.
Bradford glanced at Roth and began to chuckle, but stopped after Roth shot him a stern look.
“Submitted?” Judge Roth asked.
Both attorneys answered in the affirmative.
Roth knew Lopez had promised Torres he’d stay out of prison if he followed his instructions to go after Wagner. Roth had to honor that promise. But he also knew it made no difference if Torres didn’t go to prison this time because he’d eventually wind up there anyway. No doubt he’d stay a hype and get arrested again. Then he’d get the sentence he deserved. It was just a matter of time.
“Although prison time is indicated, there’s still something redeeming about his character,” Roth said. “He’s a loving father and husband and has many friends who stand behind him.” After pausing a beat, he said, “And although I can't exactly put my finger on it, there’s something about his character that leads me to believe he’s salvageable.”
