A Sense of Justice

by Jack Davis

  The two discussed the problem, going back and forth. Neither believed they could add anything of significance regarding the arrest that wasn’t already in their report. They decided to make sure the file was misplaced, and not return phone calls unless it was absolutely necessary.

  Plenty of cases from the US simply evaporated when they came across the humid waters of the Caribbean.

  The two assumed the worst-case scenario would be they would answer some generic questions over the phone, nothing more. They went back to talking about more mundane matters and watching the women on the beach.

  Prince was on his fourth beer of the morning when he had an idea. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it.

  “How ’bout dis, if we’re asked, we say it was the two gorillas from the Secret Service who roughed up Lopez. They were trying to get him to talk.” He took another swig of beer. “Why would we have done it? It wasn’t our case.”

  Muelens quickly added, “After all the two agents had a history of violence, having been involved in the bar fight the night before.”

  Prince liked the thought process. “We only released dem as a professional courtesy—and because in the case of Lopez dare were no witnesses. It’ll be dare word against ours.”

  Both men liked it, possibly more than they would later when the alcohol wore off, but for now it seemed pretty solid.

  Two days later, Prince received his fourth phone message from a lawyer named Timmons. This message, like all the previous ones, indicated Timmons was representing Craig Lublin. The difference in this message was that Timmons stated he would be coming to Nassau the following week.

  In addition to any and all files and notes, the attorney specified he would need access to anyone involved in the case for depositions.

  Prince decided to be proactive. He wanted to take matters into his own hands, and maybe put a little something in his pocket too.

  Timmons would have been completely satisfied if he returned from the Bahamas with a good tan and no more information than when he started.

  After receiving the news from the police that the files on the Lopez arrest had been “misplaced,” he had Kantor and Willis draft a number of outrage letters for the proper officials.

  Actually, Timmons couldn’t have been happier. He now felt he could justify staying a few days longer, in the interest of tracking down any possible witnesses who might help him flesh out the missing parts of his case.

  It took Kantor to point out to his boss that the most important aspect of the trip was to find more information about the confidential informant who had been arrested and led the Secret Service to Lublin. Both agreed the Bahamian officials had lost the case file on purpose so the defense could not obtain any additional information about the CI.

  Even Timmons knew CIs were typically unsavory characters who were not good witnesses. By making them a CI, the government made it more difficult to get them into court. The jury would only get to see the report and not the rat who sold out his friends for a ticket to freedom. That was usually how it was portrayed by defense attorneys.

  When Timmons called Kantor from the hotel the first evening, he’d had too many tropical drinks and was half drunk. At Kantor’s insistence Timmons wrote himself a note for the next morning: Focus on finding the informant!

  The note was at the top of his legal pad as he started his interview with Prince.

  “Detective Prince can you tell me about the arrest of the CI.”

  Timmons led with the question to avoid forgetting it in his hungover state. He didn’t notice the surprised and concerned look on the detective’s face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want to know more about the arrest of the CI and what led to…” he was about to say “it” when Prince helped him out.

  “We weren’t part of the arrest team; we never touched him.”

  Even a lawyer as lazy as Timmons knew he had something, and it was only two questions later that Prince decided to implement the backup plan he and Muelens had devised.

  Looking around the room at the police station where the two were sitting, he said, “I think it would be good for us to get something to drink.”

  Timmons semi-reluctantly agreed and the two walked three blocks to a small open-air bar. They took a seat and the bartender brought two beers without having been asked.

  The detective took a picture from his front shirt pocket and slid it across the bar to Timmons.

  “This is your CI…after da agents questioned him.”

  Timmons was shocked and blinked involuntarily when he heard the detective add, “He didn’t resist arrest.”

  Timmons took his first sip of beer and listened. Prince explained that for a certain amount of money, he and his partner would provide written statements saying the agents were responsible for the defendant’s injuries.

  Timmons, in keeping with his nature, tried to get the information for free by saying he could just subpoena the officers.

  “If I have to testify, my memory of what happened to da Mexican might not be da same.” As he said it, Timmons watched him put the photo back in his shirt pocket.

  “There’s more than just dis picture, mon, but you and me have to come to an agreement first.”

  Timmons took another long swig of beer and thought. Then he realized what was happening. With this information he might actually be able to win the case. That was what the officer was offering him, a chance to win. His thoughts immediately went to OJ Simpson’s defense team. They got someone off, who everyone in the world knew was guilty of a heinous crime. The entire legal team, including the prosecutors, had all made their careers on that case. They’d become rich, and as importantly to Timmons, famous.

  Granted, if this tip panned out, he wouldn’t be on TV every day like they were, but still he’d be able to get a partnership in one of the major firms. He could basically retire in place. He would be a showpiece, a thoroughbred that was used only for stud. Whatever this information cost, it would pay off a hundredfold over time. He and the detective were now on the same page.

  Even with that frame of mind, Timmons balked when the detective told him he could get the information and two signed statements for twenty-five thousand dollars each. It was only after Timmons was able to make the corrupt officer believe he was not a high-priced lawyer but just a public defender that the two came to a compromise. Timmons’s disheveled look and crumpled clothes made the story more believable.

  By the second round of drinks, rum and Cokes this time, the two had a final agreement. The officers would get five thousand each up front and then another ten if somehow the case was lost. If Timmons won the case, each officer would get an additional fifteen grand.

  With the agreement in principle, and Timmons’s signature on a paper that Prince had brought with him, the officer started talking.

  Timmons listened and took rough notes as Princeton told him about the bar fight the night before the arrest. He said that the two large agents had been involved, and it certainly showed a propensity for violence. Timmons looked at two photos of severely battered young men who’d been in the brawl.

  “Dare are more photos showing da viciousness of these agents. Photos dat could be very prejudicial to any prosecution…and show a pattern.”

  Timmons listened, knowing that short of eyewitness testimony, visual aids, blown up to show the extent of the damage, could lock that impression in the jurors’ minds. It would be gold.

  Timmons remained two steps behind Prince, still thinking about blowing up the photos, when he heard the detective suggest subpoenaing all cases in which the two agents had made arrests.

  “I’m sure if you interviewed a few defendants, with a little inducement, day might remember some excessive force.”

  Timmons was sure his new friend was right.

  By four that afternoon, Timmons had to be poured into the back of a cab. The dumpy, curly-haired little lawyer had gotten everything he could out of Prince without money changing h
ands. He was satisfied and was trying to decide what car to buy next, a BMW or a Lexus.

  Defense Motions Filed (Syracuse, New York, 12/07/09)

  Like everything in Timmons’s life, his defense motions were premature. He was in a hurry to get the notoriety and country club membership, so he rushed through the process. While he had subpoenaed the arrest reports for Kruzerski and Murray, he hadn’t actually received them or interviewed any of the defendants before he put in his motion to dismiss on the grounds that the information had been coerced.

  The motion was delivered at the same time the complaint against Kruzerski and Murray was filed. In the complaint, as corroborating evidence, Timmons stated that in addition to intimidating and assaulting his client, Kruzerski had assaulted him at the police station in Binghamton. He claimed, “For no apparent reason Agent Kruzerski threw me up against the wall, causing severe bruising and contusions to my face and torso.” While only part of the statement was true, that had always been enough for Timmons.

  78 | Bargaining Chips

  New York, New York, 12/07/09, 0942 hours

  Carpenter gave Morley ten minutes to read the complaint and the motion to dismiss before their call.

  “PJ, what the hell’s going on? This case was gonna be hard enough to prosecute, all the evidence pointing to Antonescu and him saying it’s Lublin. All the various jurisdictions and the age and process with which some of the evidence was obtained. And now I find out about all this crap.”

  “It’s a lot of smoke and mirrors,” said Morley.

  “PJ, you know the other axiom about smoke. I’ve got to convince a judge, then twelve New York City jurors that there’s no forest fire causing all this smoke.”

  “The agents were involved in a bar fight the night before Alvaro was arrested. They were defending themselves. They’ll all attest to that, and the police report tells the same story.”

  “Don’t be too sure. The defense will undoubtedly use the officers who are lying about the beating to put the police report in question.

  “The defense has pictures of the injuries sustained by the bachelor party participants, including a compound fracture. Do we have rebuttal photos of how badly your agents were hurt?”

  “No,” said Morley.

  “Regarding Lopez, is it going to be Murray and Kruzerski’s word against the cops?”

  “I can get a written statement from Lopez himself saying that it was the cops and not my guys.”

  “PJ, he’s in the Witness Protection Program, the defense will just say he’s saying whatever he has to, to stay in the program. It’s a matter of life and death to him. They’ll also push to have him testify in person.”

  “Can we win that battle?” asked Morley.

  “Not sure. Lublin is on trial for his life, depending on what judge we get, they may require he testify in person.”

  “Chris, I can get a statement from his lawyer who saw him the next day, before he was in WitSec. He’ll corroborate the statement.”

  “Okay, that should at least keep your CI from having to take the stand.” There was a pause and Morley heard turning pages then, “We’re okay with the computer forensics and intrusion portion of the case. Swann and Greere ’ll handle that, right?”

  Morley grimaced. He knew Swann had stepped over the White Hat line to obtain portions of the evidence. He trusted his cow could obfuscate that issue. He was saved from lying when Carpenter apparently found what he’d been looking for.

  “Ahh, what about Kruzerski slamming the defense lawyer Timmons to the ground at the police station?”

  “Chris, I was there, Timmons was acting like an asshole. Kruzerski said he just rushed up the hallway and yelled at him to get out of his way. He never identified himself or anything, and besides, Brian only grabbed Timmons and his momentum carried him into the wall. Brian never slammed him down.”

  “I don’t know. That one’s going to be a little more difficult to explain away.”

  “Like I said, I came into the hallway just after it happened. Timmons was trying to bully his way into the interview room without identifying himself. I can testify to that. The cops will back us up on this one too.”

  Morley could tell Carpenter’s anxiety had been cut somewhat, then the question he’d been dreading: “What are they gonna find when they get Murray and Kruzerski’s files?”

  Morley knew Carpenter had saved the potentially most damaging revelation for last. “You know as well as I do, there might be some cases where the defendants will add fuel to this fire. These two made a lot of arrests. Is a good defense attorney gonna be able to get a few of them to lie on the stand? Sure, but it’ll come down to the skel’s word against the agents.”

  Carpenter’s voice was now sympathetic. “With a New York jury, there’s a greater than fifty-fifty chance one of the jurors will side with the skel.

  “While I’d normally take the agent vs. criminal case every day of the week, the sheer number of possible incidents leans against the agents here. There are just too many fires, and each one is going to have to be extinguished in front of the jury. Especially if we have to go against the cops from the Bahamas. It’ll look horrible.”

  Morley filled in the rest of the thought process. “There are going to be some people on the jury who are going to think, they all can’t be lying.”

  There was a lull as Morley wrestled with how to tell his friend about the FBI agent impersonation allegations.

  The lawyer unknowingly broached the topic for him. “Setting Lublin aside for a second, it’s much better for Lionel and Brian to settle the case now. The defense is using them as pawns, and the charges against them as a bargaining chip. If we go to trial, that offer is gone. They’ll demand an independent IG investigation. You sure your guys’ conduct can stand up under that kind of scrutiny?”

  Morley, knowing more than Carpenter, didn’t respond directly, “You sure they’ll let us handle this internally if our charges are dropped?”

  “They couldn’t say it directly, you understand, but yes. I’ll make sure it happens before I formally agree to anything.” Then he added, “The absolute worst case would be Lublin gets off and Brian and Lionel go to jail.”

  Morley thought out loud, “Do we have a case without Alvaro’s testimony?”

  “Not really—the hacking, the Warcraft and Western Union accounts, Antonescu, not to mention the handwriting; everything we have could be tied back to Alvaro’s arrest.”

  “But, Chris, I know you love a challenge.”

  “There’s a difference between a challenge and The Charge of the Light Brigade.”

  Morley laughed, and said with resignation, “You’re right.”

  “Be prepared for the defense to bluster and posture right up until the last minute. They’ll want the publicity. Tell Brian and Lionel to expect it but not to worry. In the end, they’ll agree. Oh, make sure you get a written statement from Lopez regarding Lionel and Brian helping him.”

  “I’ll get you a statement within twenty-four hours.” Morley took a note to send Posada and Pencala to Dayton. “I’ll also start looking at other avenues for prosecution. I’ve seen some other cases coming in. I’ll see if we can go after Lublin on those cases, independent of the taint from this case.”

  “Bring me something and you know I’ll go on it. Right now, we need to worry about the lawsuits against the agents.” concluded Carpenter.

  “Let the defense know we’ll agree to the deal.”

  “I’ll start working on it as soon as we’re off the phone. It’ll probably take a couple days.”

  “I have a favor to ask,” said Morley “Don’t mention this to anyone, unless you have to.”

  There was silence, Morley could tell his friend was thinking. “I’ll tell my hierarchy I’m working with the Service and the defense regarding the motions. That’s true and won’t set off any alarms.”

  “Thanks, Chris, I owe you. Call me the minute it’s signed.”

  79 | Alvaro’s Realization

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nbsp; Dayton, Ohio, 12/08/09, 0642 hours

  An Arctic air mass dipping out of Canada brought unseasonably cold temperatures into the Ohio Valley for early December. Heavy frost and light snow bathed the International House of Pancakes parking lot in a glistening coat of white and silver.

  Alvaro recognized the government sedan as it pulled in shortly before seven. Stepping out of the warmth of the pickup truck cab, he hurried over to greet the agents.

  “Sorry to have to meet so early, I have to be at work by eight.”

  “Lopez Landscaping?” asked Posada, reading the sign stenciled on the door of Alvaro’s truck.

  “My father-in-law and I work together,” Lopez explained, as the three shook hands and hurried toward the restaurant. “It’s hard work, but I like it.”

  Posada translated for Pencala. She nodded, gave a smile and an understanding look. Posada spoke to the female agent for a second as the three were seated, she nodded.

  “To save time, I’m not gonna do simultaneous translation. I’ll fill Agent Pencala in later.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “So, how have things been going?”

  “Good, everything is going good. It’s not the best time to start a landscaping business, but we have a few regular customers already and Papi assures me that we’ll be able to work full time by spring.” He paused as the waitress set the coffee cups on the table.

  “Maria is due in four months. She’s worried about money, but…but I’m sure we’ll get through. Papi and I are going to get a plow for the truck so that we can make money in the winter.”

  “Smart,” reflected Posada. “And the kids, how are they doing?”

  “Rose and Guilli are picking up English quickly. They’re doing well in school. Maria and I are not doing as well.” His face contorted. “English is hard.”

  “Be patient, it will come in time. It isn’t easy. Keep studying with the kids, that’ll help.”