by Bill Sage
“Congratulations on your marriage, Mrs. Madden,” he said in his most affable voice.
“Thank you,” she replied, smiling nervously.
“This isn't very much fun for you, is it?”
“No.”
After a moment, Goldman said, “But you realize I have to do my job too, don't you?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you'll find I'm not as bad as they may have told you.”
“Okay,” she said, looking down.
Two jurors smiled and looked in Wilcox’s direction. He turned and looked over at the jury, displaying what Roth knew was an obligatory grin.
“When Deputy Acuna showed you the six photos, were you sitting at a table with him?”
“Yes, I was.”
“You were aware of his presence, could see him?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure you’d agree with me that if Deputy Acuna made some kind of head or hand movement during the time you were looking at the photos that could have influenced you in one way or another?”
“Yes, but that never happened.”
“Never happened, even once?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Goldman let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head. “Mrs. Madden, why don’t you just tell the truth? This is a murder trial.”
Flying out of his chair, an angry Wilcox said, “Your Honor, defense counsel is demeaning the witness and making false accusations about her. He has no respect for the court or the law.” Clenching his jaw, he glared at Goldman, looking like he was daring him to make it physical.
“Mr. Goldman, stop your mindless misconduct. How many times do I have to tell you?” Judge Roth said.
Goldman stared at Roth, but didn’t say anything.
“I need an answer,” Roth demanded.
“I understand, Your Honor.”
“Respect the witness, Mr. Goldman,” Roth said in a firm voice. “You may proceed.”
Goldman walked back to the counsel table, stopped, looked over at Joyce. “You and your husband must have talked about that night at Salvatore’s quite a few times.”
“Well, we have talked about it. It’s not something that happens…”
“And I suppose you talked about what the murderer looked like too?”
“Not that much.”
“Your husband was sitting closer to the open car window than you, isn’t that true?”
“Yes.”
“So wouldn't you say that at least to some extent he got a better look at the murderer than you?”
“Well, he was closer, if that’s what you mean.”
“But Mrs. Madden,” he flared, “if both of you were looking out of the driver’s side window, he would have gotten a better look than you, wouldn’t he?”
“I was sitting in the passenger seat, two or three feet away from him. Not much of a difference, but of course he was closer. I mean…”
“But your descriptions were the same?”
“Yes, we both saw it at the same time.”
Pointing his finger at her, Goldman said, “But how could that be? You just said he was closer and obviously that would give him a better view than you?”
“That’s just the way it happened.”
“If he was closer and both of you gave the same description, doesn’t that suggest that you two got together to make your descriptions consistent?”
“More misconduct, Your Honor. This is disgraceful, not practicing law, nothing but unethical conduct. That’s all he knows,” Wilcox said.
“The question is argumentative and alleges facts not in evidence. Don’t answer, Mrs. Madden,” Roth said.
Goldman let out a long sigh and then continued his cross-examination. After another hour of more questions and back and forth objections and rulings from Roth, Jon stood up to get Roth’s attention. “Your Honor.”
Seeing Jon standing and gawking at him, Roth got the hint. He’d told Jon first thing in the morning that he had a lunch meeting and needed to make sure he got out of court before noon.
Glancing up at the clock, Roth recessed the trial until 2:00.
40
ROTH HAD BEEN RIGHT ABOUT what he thought Hamilton would do. After trying to contact Linda, he called Roth. They set up a meeting at the Pacific Café in Irvine.
They arrived at the restaurant about the same time. While they waited to be seated, Roth noted that Hamilton was charming and respectful.
He hasn’t had anything to drink yet.
Roth was fighting to keep himself on course. One part of him wanted to smash a bottle into Hamilton’s forehead like he’d done numerous time on 12th Street or in the army. The other part was advising restraint.
At least until Linda had her hands on the contract.
After sitting down, the first thing Hamilton did was order a double Jack Daniels. Since Roth had his own rule against drinking during the workday, he asked for iced tea.
While they waited for their drinks, Hamilton gave Roth the inside scoop on the congressional hearing he was sitting on in Washington DC. The Secretary of the Treasury had finished testifying yesterday.
“What a dumb ass! We’re grilling the shit out of him.”
As they talked Hamilton downed his Jack Daniels and asked for another double. After about fifteen minutes later, he knocked that one off and they ordered lunch and of course Hamilton ordered wine.
“Please, have some wine, Al.”
“Thanks, Bob, not on a work day.”
When their food arrived, Hamilton opened the discussion. “I want Linda to have the contract. She's submitted a good bid. It’s a good deal all the way around,” he said, giving Roth a quick nod.
“That works out well for us. And…on the other issue, Linda and I will be keeping what happened to ourselves, no one else needs to know.”
“That’s good. I think that’s best for all concerned.”
“So, our two main objectives have been resolved,” Roth said, wanting to keep their focus narrowed to those points.
Hamilton nodded then took two large gulps of wine. “Linda doesn't know this, but I pushed her bid along. Frankly, if it weren't for me, she wouldn't be getting the job.”
Roth remained still, took a breath. Knowing Hamilton’s reputation, he thought there was a possibility he’d try to work in a kickback for himself, even warned Linda about it. But with the assault hanging over Hamilton’s head, Roth was surprised that he’d actually push for one.
Taking a sip of iced tea, Roth settled back to hear the rest of Hamilton’s pitch.
“The job could’ve gone to a number of solid bidders. I wanted her to have it. She’s not only very pretty, but she’s put in a good bid. But I’ll need…a showing of good faith, so…I'll know she'll be following through.”
Roth was thinking that if he acted irritated and threatened to go to the police, that would just drag the whole thing out and who knows what would happen.
Besides, it didn’t matter. Roth knew more about Hamilton’s future than he did. From here on out, it was Roth’s game, not Hamilton’s.
Relax, don’t blow the whole thing.
“Are you talking about some kind of deposit?” Roth asked.
“Yes, I think that’d be fair and it would keep her in first position.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Twenty-five thousand seems fair.”
“That’s huge and way out of line.” Roth didn’t know what the typical kickback for this size job would be, and although he knew the discussion was irrelevant, he didn’t want it to look like he’d just accept any amount Hamilton proposed.
“What do you think it's worth?” Hamilton asked.
“Fifteen thousand, tops,” Roth answered, staring at Hamilton.
“Al, that’s way off.”
Roth leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “Not under all the circumstances.” A brief pause. “There shouldn’t be any payment. You know that.”
A few moments of silence.
> Then Roth sat back, keeping his eyes on Hamilton. “You’re acting like nothing happened,” he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“I'm not going to quibble. After all, as you’ve mentioned, we did have our little misunderstanding.” Hamilton leaned back too and smiled at Roth like he’d just said something clever and funny.
They talked a few minutes about the savings and loan industry. Of course, according to Hamilton, everything was “turning to shit.”
“I’m glad I’m out of it. All the red tape and constant reporting, someone breathing down your throat.”
Then after a few minutes and completely out of the blue Hamilton’s expression suddenly changed. He leaned forward and stared at Roth with a smug scowl on his face.
Roth thought he was probably thinking that he’d gotten shafted again, this time it was on his kickback. Just like the Long Beach savings and loan deal years ago.
When it seemed like Hamilton was about to say something, the waiter came to their table. “If you gentlemen are thinking of ordering the chocolate soufflé, you’ll need to put your orders in now.”
They declined his offer.
Hamilton took another drink of wine. Then he came out with it. “It's too bad it has come down to money.” He paused a beat, looking at Roth. “I had other ideas, as you know.” Eyeing Roth, he was running his finger around the rim of his wine glass. His speech was thick and slurred.
Roth’s body tensed. Other ideas? He could feel his face reddening. Hamilton was pushing him even closer to smashing his fist into his face and walking out. But instead he took a breath and reminded himself he had to stay on his game.
Hamilton went on. “I knew I could talk to you openly about this incident without any worry because I think you know I could really destroy your career.”
Roth tightened his eyes as he looked at Hamilton.
“If you ever tried to do something about what happened,” Hamilton continued, “I could have the governor investigate you for some charge and make it stick. Even if it didn't, you'd be finished.”
“Thanks for tipping me off, congressman. That’s something I’ve wondered about.”
“Oh, that’s real funny,” Hamilton said, twisting his face into a frown. Then shaking his head, he said, “I know your kind. You and Alan Silverstein, you’re the same shit. Weak, underhanded. Know how to cheat, not how to fight. Unless of course it's with an accountant's pen or a lawyer's brief.”
That annoyed Roth, but instead of confronting Hamilton, he decided to take a softer approach. “You got a cute way with words, Bob, very charming. And thanks for the useful information.” He paused a second then said, “And of course, you’ll never let the Silverstein thing go, will you?”
“I learned a lesson from that fiasco. Don’t ever turn your back on certain people.”
Roth wanted to get back on track. “Let’s just stick to the business at hand. That’s why we’re here.”
Hamilton leered at him. “You don’t know shit, Roth.” He drank the last of his wine glass and poured another from the carafe.
“Is this more of your intelligent conversation?”
“You’re a—”
“Why don’t you lay off the wine so we can concentrate on our business?” Roth said, still holding himself back.
Hamilton took a drink. Then he looked at Roth and grinned. “You know your little friend humiliated me.”
Fuck this game, Roth thought. He leaned forward, hardening his face. “Bob, I’m no Silverstein.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You talk tough, sitting there with your manicured fingernails, tons of aftershave. I know you think you can push women around, but maybe you’d like to take me on? I promise I won’t back down like Silverstein.”
“Oh, such tough talk.”
“What are you afraid of?” Roth asked then paused a moment. “Oh, I know, you think I’d sue you? That’s the way my people are, huh, Bob?”
“You’re acting like a fool, Roth.” Hamilton smoothed his hand across his mouth then grinned. “Yeah, I’d like to handle this another way, but a deal's a deal. And I don’t want stay here talking to you any longer than I have to.”
Roth quickly got hold of himself and decided he’d better keep his mouth shut. Everything was going the way he’d hoped. Linda was getting the contract and Hamilton was satisfied dealing through him.
They stopped talking and turned their attention to their lunch, thinking to themselves. After finishing eating and Hamilton had drained the last of the carafe, there was an uncomfortable silence.
Hamilton was sitting back in his chair, sometimes shooting glances at Roth, who was wondering what kind of garbage would seep out of his mouth next.
Then Hamilton just stared at Roth, this time running his fingers up and down the stem of his wine glass. “How’d you ever get your judicial appointment, anyway?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Roth answered, grimacing and shaking his head.
“Was it the ADL or your rabbi?”
“No, it was the Pope.”
Hamilton chuckled and nodded once. “You’re nothing. If I’d been governor you wouldn’t have gotten shit.”
“You’re sick. Go back on your meds.”
“Fuck you, Roth.”
Their conversation was spiralling out of control and Roth was worried things would fall apart. He told himself this wasn’t the time to fight with Hamilton or defend his people. That would come later. Besides, he had to get back to court.
“I'm in the middle of a murder case,” Roth said.
“Yeah, I read about it in the Register. That Italian guy.”
Another reason he wanted to get out of there was Hamilton’s aftershave. It was giving him a headache. He ran the back of his hand across his nostrils, hoping to block out some of the smell.
“I suggest we meet when the trial is over,” Roth said. “Should be in a few days. We meet somewhere private and finish up. I'll give you the cash deposit, you give me the signed contract.”
“Sure, Roth, that’s fine. Call me and we can wrap it up.” Hamilton had switched back to being a politician.
Roth nodded and placed his napkin on the table. He scooted his chair back and rose. As they shook hands, Roth was thinking, Who’s the bigger asshole, Hamilton or Goldman?
No doubt about it—Hamilton, hands down.
41
ROTH DROVE BACK TO THE courthouse. Went through the side door and up the stairway that led to the area behind the courtrooms where the judges’ chambers were located.
He took off his suit coat, slipped on his robe, and entered the courtroom. “Mr. Goldman, you may continue with your cross-examination of Mrs. Madden.”
“Thank you, Your Honor." He stepped away from the table and stood several feet behind it.
Goldman took several minutes going over some topics he’d already questioned Joyce about. Wilcox was letting it slide until it’d dragged on way too long.
Then he objected.
“Sustained,” Roth said. “Go on to something new, Mr. Goldman.”
Goldman nodded then smiled at Joyce. “Just a few more questions, and we’ll be finished, Mrs. Madden.”
She nodded and said, “Okay.”
“Did your husband ever express any concerns to you about the description he gave the sheriffs or tell you that maybe Mangano was the wrong guy?”
“No, never.”
“Well, if he had no concerns, why did you two get married after you knew you’d have to testify in this case?”
“It had nothing to do with this case. We were planning on getting married long before we got the subpoenas.” She looked confused, quickly glancing at Wilcox.
Judge Roth readied himself for the eruption of objections and arguments he anticipated with this line of questioning. He wondered about Wilcox. How would he react? Roth had a feeling that this could be the topic that would push Wilcox over the edge.
His anger would get the best of him
and he’d say something he’d regret.
“Mrs. Madden, you know what the marital privilege is?”
“No, I don't think so.”
“It's a rule that says a wife can’t be forced to testify against her husband in a court of law. Ever hear of it?”
“I'm not sure.”
“You know very well what I'm talking about, don't you?”
“No, Mr. Goldman, I don't,” she replied in an annoyed voice.
“Are you going to try to fight me on answering these questions?”
“No, I just feel you’re trying to get me mixed up.”
“Don't worry, you got the judge and your lawyer watching out for you. They're on your side.”
“That's another five days, Mr. Goldman,” Judge Roth said. “Disrespect for the court and more of your irrational behavior.”
Goldman stood silent for a few moments. Then as he looked at the jury, he shook his head and let out a breath.
That annoyed Roth, so he said, “Would you like me to make that contempt order in a bench conference, Mr. Goldman?” Roth paused as he stared at him. “Will that make you more inclined to follow the rules of evidence?”
“I have my record.” Then Goldman took a breath and let it out slowly. “May I proceed?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Goldman looked as if he was going to make a comment to Judge Roth, but then seemed to change his mind.
“Mrs. Madden, I still have one or two questions I need to ask. Please bear with me.”
She didn’t respond.
“Don’t you agree that it’s just a little too convenient that you chose to get married before the trial began and both of you were scheduled to testify?”
Wilcox shoved his chair back and stood up, his face flaring with anger. “This is gross misconduct from Mr. Goldman again. He’s making all this up as he goes along. Good for Disneyland, but deliberately alleging false assumptions in front of the jury is unethical. I—”
“Absolutely false!” Goldman said.
“Hang on, he’s not finished,” Roth interrupted.
Wilcox took a breath. “I demand he make an offer of proof to support his allegations. Let's see if this is just his mouth or whether he has any evidence to back it up.”
