In the five hours since the attack, Judge Marshall had gathered all the relevant information, reviewed Hunter’s motion for a mistrial, and made a number of calls, concerned for the safety of the witness.
“This case has to be declared a mistrial.” Hunter began. “The jury could not possibly remain impartial after what happened out there. Their decisions will be influenced by the commotion. They cannot possibly be expected to make an unbiased decision on the guilt of Mr. Cowan.”
“Mr. Spencer?” Judge Marshall turned to the seated lawyer.
“The jury saw nothing. They weren’t even in the room. And there was no connection between the defendant and this attacker. There was no interaction between the assailant and Mr. Cowan, no words spoken, no non-verbal clues, and there was nothing to bias the decision of the court. We cannot be held at ransom by thugs who think they can come into the court and threaten our witnesses. We had a missing witness, and now this? The law cannot let this man go. This trial must not be held hostage by people who think they can do whatever they want.”
“The defendant cannot possibly receive a fair trial after this incident. The opinion of the jury is going to be clearly biased.” Hunter stood behind one of the chairs. “There is no choice but to declare a mistrial. Mr. Cowan will be judged on what happened, and we cannot dismiss that.”
“Are you saying your client had a hand in this?” Judge Marshall raised his eyebrows, looking at Hunter over his glasses.
“Your Honor, I have no knowledge of what happened out there, and I can’t comment on it. Even if my client didn’t have a hand in it, the jury will assume he did. There will be extreme prejudice against Mr. Cowan and this jury cannot possibly provide a fair resolution to this case.”
“How is the condition of the witness, Mr. Spencer?”
“He’s suffered a cut above the eye, and he’s a little shaken, but he’s still willing to testify and tell the court what he knows to be true about this case. He’ll be good to return to the courtroom tomorrow morning, and due to the behavior he’s encountered today, he’d prefer to testify as soon as possible.”
Judge Marshall sat back in his chair, the afternoon sun streaming in behind him. He’d made a lot of decisions in his chambers, life or death decisions, decisions that affected the lives of so many people. He looked at the paper in front of him, considering his options, thinking about his next steps.
“The assailant is reportedly saying he’s never met Mr. Cowan, and he attacked the witness because he had a personal issue with him. He’s stated it was nothing to do with this case,” Spencer continued. “He claims he was previously employed by Mr. Schultz and he was sacked without cause. The assailant is claiming this was the only time he could get to him because Mr. Schultz has been in hiding. He wanted to punch Mr. Schultz, and this was his only chance.”
“So he attacked him in a courthouse?” Judge Marshall scoffed. “This courthouse is not a joke. I will see to it that the assailant receives the harshest penalty possible for such ludicrous behavior.”
“And such ludicrous behavior cannot be excluded from the minds of the jurors.” Hunter added. “Perhaps even they feel threatened now. Their decisions will be blinded by this incident. A fair trial cannot take place from here. This jury cannot possibly remain impartial.”
“I won’t be played, Mr. Hunter.” Judge Marshall shook his head again, groaning. “This is a court of law, not a place to play petty games.”
“If this case continues, then this is a reversible error. You’re denying Mr. Cowan due process.”
“Don’t lecture me on the law! We have a missing witness, and another witness was attacked in my courthouse. I don’t accept the games these people want to play. This court will stand above these petty moves. The court will explain to the jurors this incident had nothing to do with Mr. Cowan, that it was a personal matter between the assailant and the witness, and they cannot factor the attack into their decision for this trial. Any reasonable person will accept that determination. It’s reasonable, fair and just, that the jury will determine there is no undue influence in this case.”
“Your Honor—”
“My decision is made. The trial shall proceed behind closed doors, beginning tomorrow morning.” Judge Marshall indicated to the door. “Now get out of my chambers and stop wasting my time.”
Chapter 31
Tex Hunter sat in the bar, staring at his whiskey instead of drinking it. Ray Jones cradled a pint of pale ale in his large hands, and Esther Wright sipped a glass of Sauvignon blanc. The dive bar in Downtown Chicago was first opened in the 1980s, and the décor hadn’t changed since—pictures of 80s sporting legends hung on the brick walls, photos of past celebrities were pinned above the bar, and a number of old signed film posters, including the first Lethal Weapon and Die Hard movies, lined the entrance. There was a comfort to remaining in the past, especially while the city constantly changed around them.
“You could walk away.” Ray Jones stated as he brought the beer to his lips. “Forget about your father’s file and leave it all behind. You’ve got nothing tying you to this man. You could walk up to the judge and say your position has been compromised as you’re aware he’s beating witnesses.”
“I can’t do that now.” Hunter shook his head. “I have a chance to crumble the corrupt house of cards these liars have built. I have the chance to take them down, and expose their dishonesty and fraud. This is my chance.”
“But why?” Esther asked. “It doesn’t end with this case. Schultz will keep going. He’ll keep doing what he always has—using his connections and influence to make more money. You won’t stop him.”
“I have to do what I can,” Hunter responded. “These men have spent decades building their connections, making power moves and shifting chess pieces around the board so they can own the game. If we can stop the dealmakers, then we start to clean up the city. We start to clean up this mess.”
“Cowan is a criminal, and you saw that today.” Jones sat back and leaned against the leather cushion in the booth. “It’s bad enough he tried to take out a witness before the trial, but the idiot paid someone to attack a witness in court. He’s doing whatever he can to rock the boat.”
“He’s not an idiot. He was going for a mistrial.” Hunter replied. “Judge Marshall has denied the motion, but it puts us in a strong position for an appeal on the basis of a reversible error. We can argue the jury couldn’t have remained impartial, and the state has failed in its duty to maintain a fair trial. He’d still be behind bars for months while the process goes through the courts, but it’s our best chance.”
“You’re not a cop, Tex. This isn’t your job. Your job isn’t to police the corrupt.”
“Change doesn’t happen because one person at the top decides to do something. Real change, the type that matters, happens when everybody decides to do their part. Not just me, not just you, but everybody. And this is my part. The systemic corruption has to stop, and this is the role I have to play in overcoming it. I don’t want to live in a city where money is worth more than justice.”
A silence hung over them as they looked around the bar.
There were a number of gray-haired men watching a Lakers game on the television screen that hung near the entrance. They were arguing about whether Michael Jordan or LeBron James was the better basketball player. The guy arguing for LeBron James had to be an outsider, no self-respecting Chicagoan would argue against the impact Jordan had on basketball. Those who saw it first hand could never argue against Jordan—the way the sporting ability of one man transformed the whole city. The argument became heated, and the older of the two men stood, pointing his finger into the other man’s chest. The younger man, still at least seventy, stood to the challenge, yelling his responses.
They began to scuffle, but everything they did appeared to be in slow motion. They were two men trying to capture the aggression they had fifty years ago. The bartender broke them up before a punch was thrown, and told them both to sit down. He
scolded them like school boys, and both men were happy to sit down to catch their breath. They sipped their drinks, and then shook hands.
Although they had some aggression left, maturity was their greatest asset.
“If we knew who turned off the cameras in the Five-Star on the day of the raid, we’d have enough proof to take down Schultz.” Hunter added. “Whoever turned off the cameras is our answer. That’s the key. Or if we can find any footage within the club, then it might prove that Kokkinos planted the drugs. Maybe someone was recording one of the girls dancing on their phone? Or maybe someone was talking on a video call in the club? We need something, anything, to prove someone planted the drugs.”
Neither Esther nor Jones responded. They had followed every lead and pushed every boundary to find the person who turned off the cameras.
Esther looked across at the two men as their voices rose again, before the bartender interrupted them and told them to quiet down. They did as they were told.
“And the file?” Esther turned back to the table. “What happens to that if Cowan goes to prison to await another trial? He won’t give it to you if he goes behind bars.”
Hunter raised his eyebrows towards Jones.
“I do have some information on that.” Jones drew a long breath. “Schultz and Cowan were close for years, and a contact told me that anything Cowan needed hidden, he gave to Schultz.”
“You’re saying Schultz has the file?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s a strong possibility. If Cowan received anything legal, he would’ve passed it onto Schultz. Although they’re not on the same team now, they were for a long time. Cowan adored Schultz, right up until his name was released as a witness.”
Hunter’s head tilted backwards, leaning against the top of the booth.
“Sorry, Tex.” Jones added. “I know it’s not good news, but it’s where all the information has led.”
“What hope do you have?” Esther said. “Schultz will go underground after this. Possibly even shred the files if he knows you’re coming after them. He’s probably moved the files already.”
Hunter didn’t respond.
It wasn’t the news he wanted after the day’s events. He’d become tangled in a mess of lies, deception, and danger, and for possibly no benefit at all.
“I’m working to see if there’s a way I could get to Schultz’s old files.” Jones tried to remain positive. “There’s an old storage facility his law firm uses, but it’s fairly secure. It’s not the type of place I can break into and spend hours looking through old boxes. But if I can find someone on the inside, then maybe they can give us a tip. I’ll work on it, but there’s no guarantees.”
Hunter remained silent for a long period of time. He risked it all to defend a sleaze, a corrupt businessman, and he was facing the very real possibility that he could walk away with nothing.
“What else can I do?” Hunter broke the silence. “I have to defend him. If he’s innocent of these charges, then I have to convince the jury of the truth. That’s my job. That’s my part in the justice system. I have to get him off.”
The three work colleagues and friends, sat at the booth, remaining quiet, contemplating their possible defeat. Defeat wasn’t something Hunter was used to, it was something he didn’t like, and he wasn’t accepting of it. A number of minutes passed before Hunter’s phone broke their solitude.
“Tex Hunter.” Hunter answered the call from a blocked number.
“Hello?” The woman asked as soon as Hunter answered. “Are you the defense attorney?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“I wanted to know why you sat with the homeless man last week?”
“Which homeless man?”
“The one on the street. The one you sat next to and talked with for a while after you left the office on Friday.”
“Who is this?”
“I want to know why you helped the man on the street.”
Hunter was silent.
“Someone wise told me the true value of a person is known when nobody is watching.” The woman on the phone continued after a long pause. “I saw your true value, and I know something that can help you.”
Chapter 32
The following morning, the courtroom was empty, soulless. With the gallery closed and the doors locked shut, the space behind the lawyers felt cold, cavernous, and almost haunted. Judge Marshall explained to the jury that the incident outside the doors had nothing to do with the case, and was rather, a personal vendetta against a witness. Judge Marshall asked the jury a number of questions about their bias, and when satisfied, he allowed the lawyers to continue.
Jerry Schultz walked to the stand in the empty courtroom, a bandage wrapped around the top of his head. The area under his right eye was purple, his cheek was slightly swollen, and he hobbled a little when he walked, but his suit was immaculate.
Hunter made a motion to dismiss the witness testimony due to the witness’ professional and legal relationship with the defendant, but Judge Marshall threw it out as well. The judge was becoming sick of the trial antics, sick of the games, and wanted the case pushed through as quickly as possible.
“Please state your name for the court.” Spencer began after Schultz was sworn in.
“Jerry Schultz.”
“Do you know the defendant?”
“I do. I’ve been an attorney for forty-five years and Mr. Cowan was a former client of mine. We worked together on a number of cases, however, our firm made a shift towards litigation law ten years ago, and I haven’t worked with Mr. Cowan during that time. After our professional relationship ended, Mr. Cowan became a friend. He confided many things to me during our friendship.”
“Are you able to disclose the things he confided in you while you were his defense attorney?”
“No, that would be a clear breach of the client-attorney confidentiality agreement.” Schultz moved in his chair. “I haven’t worked as a defense attorney for more than ten years, and like I said, Mr. Cowan has become my friend during that time. There was a clear distinction between my work as his attorney and my time as his friend.”
“Did you report anything to the police on the day of September 25th?”
He leaned to talk into the microphone. “I did. I called Detective Holmes and stated Mr. Cowan was expecting a shipment of drugs to arrive on October 5th.”
“What did you say in the tip-off call?”
“When I called on September 25th, I said that Mr. Cowan told me directly he was going to receive a large shipment of cocaine. Mr. Cowan and I were talking, as friends, and he stated his money problems were getting worse, but he had a way to fix them. He said the drugs would clear most of his debts.” Schultz looked towards the jury. “He said the cocaine had originally come from another country, somewhere in South America. He’d received word the shipment had landed in Florida, and was on the way to Chicago. He was excited because that amount of money would clear his debts.”
“Were those his exact words? ‘Clear his debts?’”
“They were. We were talking about the debts he owed and he said he had no way out of the predicament he was in. He said this was his only choice to pay them off.”
“And why did you choose to call Detective Holmes about this?”
“Because it was illegal. I felt it was my civil duty to stop the shipment of drugs from ruining the lives of the people in my community. I’m sick of seeing drugged-up fools walking the streets. Drugs are a terrible, terrible thing.”
“Why did you call Detective Holmes directly? Why not, say, call the drug tip-off line?”
“I didn’t trust the tip-off line and I knew Detective Holmes worked in the drug task force with the Chicago Police Department. It made sense to call him directly. I asked around and a friend of mine gave me his direct cell number.”
“Had you provided information to the police previously through tip-offs?”
“I had, but not about Mr. Cowan.”
“Did you believe Mr. Cowan when
he told you about the drugs?”
“I had no reason to doubt him and I couldn’t see a reason why he would lie to me as his friend.”
“Did you see Mr. Cowan take delivery of the drugs on October 5th?”
“Not personally, but he sent me a text message saying the drugs had been delivered.”
Spencer introduced a copy of the text message exchange to the court. “Can you please read the text message Mr. Cowan sent you that day, at 1:58pm?”
Spencer handed a piece of paper to Schultz, and also highlighted the text message on the court monitor. Schultz put on his reading glasses, cleared his throat, and read the first line. “‘The coke has arrived. This is money in the bank.’”
“What do you think Mr. Cowan was referring to when he said ‘coke?’”
“Objection. Calls for speculation.”
Spencer shot Hunter a hot glance. “Withdrawn. Let me rephrase that. When you received that text message, what did you do?”
“I informed Detective Holmes.”
“Was this the point you confirmed Mr. Cowan personally received the cocaine he was expecting?”
“Objection.” Hunter called out. “Calls for a conclusion.”
“Sustained.” Judge Marshall replied immediately.
Spencer didn’t mind. It was easy to wipe a statement from a court transcript, but the same couldn’t be said for the jury. Statements said in court remained stuck in the subconscious, no matter how many times a judge dismissed them.
“Mr. Schultz, did you know the Five-Star Gentlemen’s Club was about to be raided?” Spencer continued.
“Detective Holmes had asked me to contact him the second I became aware Mr. Cowan had the drugs in his possession so I assumed he was going to track the drugs. I was not made aware it was going to be a raid.”
Spencer asked Schultz numerous questions over the next hour, and all of it seemed damning. Hunter objected where he could, attempting to throw doubt on the testimony, but the jury trusted Schultz and his no-nonsense answers.
Deadly Justice: A Legal Thriller (Tex Hunter Book 4) Page 16
