The Two-Witness Rule: A Novel

by William Eleazer

  Patel continued to listen intently, but he remained silent. His eyes tightened in a frightened look, but in fact he was pleased with what he was hearing.

  “The third part is up to you. And that is whether you should discuss this with your attorney. If you think you must, then do it, but remember, you got into this fix by listening to your attorney. Ask yourself if you can really trust him. Was he leading you to slaughter and if so, why? Will you get a truthful answer? Think carefully and weigh all the facts that you know are true. Consider what you find on the Internet, and compare it with what I’ve told you. Compare it with what you heard from your attorney. Then make your decision.”

  The man turned to his partner, and said, “I think we should be going now. Do you have anything to add?”

  “No, I think you covered it all very thoroughly.”

  The younger man picked up the Heineken six-pack from the counter, and they both walked slowly out the door.

  Patel stood at the counter thinking carefully about what he had just heard. Maybe there was a way out, but he had to think very carefully about what he should do. First, he needed to get on the Internet. He had access through his desktop computer in his small office behind the counter. He locked up, turned off the lights and went to his office to make the Internet search.

  He entered “two-witness rule.” Immediately, quite a few hyperlinks appeared. Several were to biblical passages and one to the United States Constitution, which required two witnesses for conviction of treason. Then he found this definition under a headline, “Two-Witness Rule Law and Legal Definition.”

  “Two-witness rule refers to the rule in many states that applies to a charge of perjury. Under this rule, two witnesses are required to establish that the alleged perjurer gave false testimony.”

  That got his immediate attention. His pulse was now beating faster. Maybe, just maybe, those two strangers were right. Maybe there was a way out. He read it again and noticed the words, “in many states.” Was Georgia one of those states? He thought of calling his attorney, but it was approaching midnight. And he recalled the advice of the strangers. Could he really trust his attorney? Why was this critical information withheld from him? Was his attorney really working for him—or for the prosecutor? Was it in his best interest to even tell his attorney of this late night visit by two strangers? Would his attorney perhaps be angry at him?

  Even though he did not discuss the case, the strangers discussed the case. He was conflicted, but the decision of whether to tell his attorney could wait. He needed more time to think this through. His pressing need now was to find out if Georgia was one of those states, and he knew where he could go and confidentially find his answer: the reference librarians at the Savannah Bull Street Library. His oldest daughter had used them many times while in high school and had always spoken highly of them. They would help, and he would be there when the library opened at 9:00 the following morning. The trial was still six weeks away. He had plenty of time to decide what, if anything, to tell his attorney.

  Chapter Thirty

  Wednesday, November 12

  The last several weeks had passed quickly for Scott. He had at least one trial almost every week, plus preparation for the Gordon case which would begin the next week. In addition, he and Jennifer were beginning to discuss marriage after her graduation in the spring. He had already selected a ring. He wondered if he was supposed to discuss their plans with her father—ask for his permission. Did young men still do that? Both parents were expecting them to marry, so he saw no need to ask for permission. He knew that many couples just sort of drifted into their marriage decision, but he planned to actually “propose”—maybe not actually get down on a knee, but he would present the ring and ask Jennifer to marry him—probably during the Christmas holidays. He had not yet picked the date or the place. It would not be in his personality to make a public show of it—no full-page ad in the local paper, and he wouldn’t hire a skywriter to paste it over Savannah for everyone to see. This would be private and special—just the two of them—something to remember forever. Their first date was at the Library Bar and Grill, immediately after one of Jennifer’s freshman orientation sessions at Savannah Law. He knew a first date site was a popular place to propose, and as much as he loved the Library, it didn’t seem to be the special place that he was seeking. He would have to give it more thought.

  This was a day he and Joe Fasi were to meet to make final preparation for the Gordon trial, which was to begin the next Monday. Scott felt good about his witnesses and his chances for a conviction. Like the trials that Gordon had defended involving John Harrison, this trial with Gordon as the accused had substantial media interest. Judge McCabe had approved a “Memorandum of Agreement,” signed by all the media organizations that would be covering the trial. That included at least one TV station in Savannah, Atlanta, and Chicago, and they would be sharing a single camera. One still photographer would be allowed, and all photos would be pooled.

  Scott arrived in Fasi’s office with all the files. The office had a pleasant scent of freshly brewed coffee. Fasi thrived on coffee and had his own single-serve machine in one corner of his office. Scott, like all the other assistants, got his coffee from the community machine maintained by the secretaries and located in a small storage room. Fasi was the only one in the entire office with his own machine. He had several gourmet single-serve brands for his guests, but Folgers Columbian was always in his own cup.

  Fasi motioned Scott to take a seat, then said, “How about joining me in a fresh cup of coffee before we start? What would you like?”

  “Anything Starbucks.”

  “French Roast?”

  “Perfect,” Scott said.

  In a couple of minutes both had a cup of coffee in their hands and were ready to get down to the day’s business.

  “Anything new from Carl?” asked Fasi.

  “Nothing new on the case, but he called me yesterday with news on the investigation of my alleged visit to the Henry Grady Inn. Remember that?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. What’s new?”

  “Quite a bit. Carl got a good ID from the woman, Glenna. He had photos of the two disbarred lawyers working in Colosimo’s office—Thomas Reid and Anderson McDowell. She’s positive they are the ones who drove her to Savannah for the setup. The cell phone purchase records also led to them. And they’ve already located the second car. It was purchased in Birmingham after an ad in AutoTrader. It’s now registered in Reid’s name, and he’s still driving it. Previous owner says they paid his asking price of forty-two hundred, and they didn’t bother to haggle once they saw it.”

  “Have they tied in Colosimo?”

  “They don’t have a clean case against Colosimo, at least not yet, but I expect that will be coming too. Those two reprobates won’t take the fall alone. I expect them to quickly implicate Colosimo.”

  “So they’ve made an arrest of the two guys from his office?”

  “No, not yet,” Scott said. “I asked Carl to delay any arrest until after the trial. I don’t want anything to stop the trial from getting underway. I want Colosimo in the courtroom Monday, sitting cozy next to Gordon at the defense table. Even though they weren’t planning to arrest Colosimo, I expect arresting his two major assistants would have a big spillover effect. He would probably ask the judge for a delay, and he just might get it.”

  “I don’t believe Judge McCabe would grant a delay, but it’s possible. Probably a good call,” Fasi said.

  “I’ll get more details from Carl tomorrow. He’ll be stopping by my office to go over his testimony once more. He’ll be my first witness. I told him he should be at the courthouse Tuesday morning. I’m skeptical that we can get a jury in one day, but I want him available just in case.”

  “Good, because I really believe we can get a jury Monday. McCabe will take charge and run through his stock questions rapidly, but he’s pretty thorough. Unl
ess it’s a capital case, he brings the entire panel into the courtroom and questions them all together. He cuts attorneys off quickly if they try to ask a question he’s already covered. There’s been some pretrial publicity about the case here in Savannah but certainly not like the previous Harrison trials. Gordon’s home town, Chicago, has probably seen more publicity than Savannah. The legal community here is interested because a big time lawyer is on trial, but I don’t think the average citizen knows or cares. I think most will say, ‘Max who?’ Yeah, I think we’ll get a jury without any problems. What’s the latest on the other witnesses?”

  “They’re all out on bail and so far have complied with their bail conditions. Richard Evans is keeping tabs on that. All have been served, and their attorneys tell me they haven’t wavered from their initial statements. I don’t see any problem there. Even Patel, who was almost a basket case, has settled down. Goes to work at his store every day. Johnson is staying in Savannah with an old army buddy. He’s wearing an ankle monitor and has kept within the confines of Chatham County, as required by his bail. The judge had no problem accepting his plea and the pretrial agreement. I was a bit concerned about the pretrial, but the judge did not question it. Clarence Wilborn was allowed to go back to his home town in Macon to await trial. He’s already pled—sentencing will be a few weeks after the Gordon trial. He’s also wearing an ankle bracelet. Authorities in Macon are monitoring him.”

  “Are you still comfortable making the opening and the closing?” asked Fasi. “You said you wanted to do both, but I’m available to take one—your decision there, Scott.”

  “No, you’d probably screw it up.” They both laughed. “And I’d screw up the jury selection. So you just pick me a good jury, and I’ll be very pleased to do the rest.”

  They discussed the case for another hour or so, looking carefully once again at the thick investigative file prepared by Carl DeBickero and John Majewski, as well as the numerous case notes that Scott had prepared over the last few months. Fasi knew this was Scott’s first trial before Judge McCabe. Fasi had tried quite a number of cases before the judge, so he was careful to explain the judge’s trial philosophy and personal characteristics. Fasi explained that McCabe seemed to go out of his way to avoid any appearance of having a prosecutorial bias.

  “If it’s a minor issue involving evidence, and one that in his discretion could go to either side, he’s likely to rule quickly, and for the defense,” Fasi said. “But if it’s an evidentiary issue that could devastate the prosecution case, he’ll take it slow, often requiring additional research and oral argument. In the cases I’ve had before him, he’s never shown a prosecutorial bias or prejudice.”

  “We could use a little prosecutorial bias on at least one issue,” Scott responded.

  “And that would be . . . ?”

  “The corroborating circumstances for the ‘two-witness rule,’” Scott said with a grin.

  “Well, don’t look for it,” Fasi said. “He’ll call ‘em like he sees ‘em. He’s been on the bench for at least fifteen years and is seldom reversed. In fact, I’ve never heard of him being reversed for an error in admitting or excluding evidence.”

  After a second cup of coffee, the conference ended. Scott returned to his office to complete preparation on his opening statement. He was looking forward to Monday, fully confident in his case.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Monday, November 17

  Scott spent the weekend with Jennifer and her family in Hilton Head. It rained heavily all day Saturday, preventing their usual visit to the beach, but it did not dampen the pleasure he always found in a Hilton Head visit. They braved the rain to go to one of their favorite night spots, The Jazz Corner. And as usual, they were careful to stay out late enough to ensure that Jennifer’s mom and dad had retired, giving them a couple hours of perfect time alone to end the day.

  The rain departed and the sun came out Sunday. The day was bright and clear as Jennifer’s father prepared the grill for the traditional Sunday afternoon cookout. This one would include a whole red snapper and fresh Capers Island oysters on the half-shell. He was amazing to watch as he presided over the grill. To Scott, it was like a magic show, and it always ended in taste perfection. But try to compliment him and the reply would always be modest, something like “Oh, it’s nothing special.” Scott admired the man in so many ways. Growing up in Tennessee without a father, he was now fully realizing what he had missed.

  Scott and Jennifer left Hilton Head earlier than usual. Jennifer had class work waiting, and Scott needed to get home to put the final touch on his preparation for the trial, which would start Monday morning.

  And now Monday had arrived, and he was sitting in Courtroom K, quite a bit early, waiting for the trial to begin. Fasi had not arrived and the defense table was vacant. He looked around the courtroom. There were no spectators, and the only others in the courtroom were a single bailiff and a two-man crew setting up a TV camera. The camera would not be on during jury selection, but the crew was there to be ready when the opening statements began.

  Scott began to reminisce about the weekend he had just spent with Jennifer at Hilton Head. He mused at what a lucky young man he was. His mother had never met Jennifer, but in Scott’s phone calls she had heard all about her. Jennifer would be going to Tennessee with Scott to visit his mother over the Christmas holidays. He hadn’t told Jennifer of the false assault he had been accused of while she vacationed in France or the investigation that followed. He would someday, but not until this trial was over—and maybe a long time afterwards.

  Scott did not see the man as he entered the courtroom and walked into the gallery, directly to the rear of where Scott was seated. But the sharp sound he made when he plopped his heavy briefcase on the pew-style wooden bench woke Scott from his reverie. He swiveled in his chair and looked. The face was familiar, but where had he seen it? Then he recalled. He had never actually seen the face, only a photo—a photo of a “staff member” on Colosimo’s website.

  He quickly suppressed an initial impulse to cause some major damage to the rogue’s face—perhaps move his nose a few inches to the right. But that would not be a good start for the day. He immediately had second thoughts about the request he had made to Carl—to wait to arrest the two men who had traveled to Savannah with Glenna to frame him. Just what could this disbarred thug have in mind, coming to this trial? Obviously more evil, more corruption. But what? Scott did not expect to be assassinated in the Chatham County Courthouse, but for a moment it did cross his mind, and just to be on the safe side, he decided not to give the man a clear shot to his back. He continued to face the man, who was now seated with his arms folded across his chest and staring in Scott’s general direction without making eye contact.

  Within a few minutes, several others entered the courtroom through the hallway entry door, which was on Scott’s right as he was now turned, facing the gallery. Perhaps they were spectators, or potential jurors who were lost and looking for the jury assembly room. Scott did not recognize any of them. Some took seats in the gallery, and some peered around the courtroom with puzzled looks and quickly left. He still did not turn his back, and the man kept the stare, still refusing to make eye contact.

  In just a few minutes, Scott observed two more men coming through the entry door. Both were carrying briefcases. It was Max Gordon and James Colosimo.

  Gordon seemed to have lost weight and aged quite a bit since Scott saw him at his arraignment in June. He wore a dark pinstriped suit and a silk paisley tie, but the pretentious pink handkerchief that hung loosely from his front breast pocket during the Harrison trials was missing. However, the gold Rolex on his left wrist and gold and jeweled rings on two fingers of his right hand were there as always.

  Colosimo was wearing his signature white linen suit despite it being late in the season and a windy 50 degrees outside. And of course, he was trying his best to replicate the original “Diamond
Jim.” Paired with Gordon, they had the appearance of a gold and diamond store in a large mall. Colosimo wore diamonds on his fingers, wrist watch, cuff links, and neck tie. He was no longer wearing the braided black leather string tie with the diamond-laden clasp that he had worn during his first meeting with Scott. Instead, he wore a solid sapphire blue tie with at least a two-carat diamond stick pin. Yet, to Scott, his most striking feature was not the diamonds, but his jet black rectangular moustache that covered all of his top lip, plus at least an inch on both sides. Scott recalled the large portrait of the original “Diamond Jim” he had observed during his tour at Colosimo’s. The moustache was an exact replica.

  The two took seats in the red upholstered swivel chairs at the defense table. Only then did Scott turn and face away from the man in the gallery. But he didn’t turn toward the defense table. He would ignore them. In any other trial with any other counsel, he would have walked over with a welcoming handshake, but this was not going to be “any other trial.” This was quite unique—a shyster defending a shyster, the raw makings of a bad lawyer joke.

  Richard Evans, the office investigator assigned to the case, soon arrived with enlarged copies of the photos taken by Clarence Wilborn of both Patel’s and Johnson’s faces, each admiring a suitcase filled with $250,000 cash. With Richard was Bob McSweeney, another DA office investigator, who would be sitting in the first row of the gallery during the trial, just behind the prosecutor’s table, to assist as necessary. This was usually where Evans sat during cases he worked, but for this trial he would be a witness for the prosecution and would be excluded from the courtroom. He was present in the first Harrison robbery trial two years ago when Josh Johnson identified John Harrison as the robber at Fast Eddie’s convenience store. He would provide testimony needed to prove Johnson committed perjury, which in turn was necessary to prove that Gordon committed the offense of subornation of perjury. Johnson’s admission of perjury would not be sufficient to prove his perjury—that would be a single witness—but his testimony and the “corroborating evidence” provided by Richard would be sufficient. At least that was Scott’s plan.