Lost Lake

by Phillip Margolin

  “Miss Kohler helped Mr. Rice escape from the hospital because she was certain that General Wingate would have him killed to keep his secret.”

  The noise in the courtroom increased in volume. The judge rapped his gavel again.

  “Please approach the bench,” he said.

  The judge leaned down and lowered his voice as soon as Ami and Brendan Kirkpatrick were standing at the side of the dais.

  “I’m warning you, Mrs. Vergano. I will not permit my courtroom to be turned into a platform for political character assassination. Your charges are going to be carried by every television station and newspaper in this country and could affect the outcome of the primary election. I will report you to the bar association and place you in contempt if these charges prove to be unfounded or unconnected with the purpose of this hearing.”

  “I understand, Your Honor,” Ami answered meekly. She felt sick to her stomach and light-headed with fear.

  “And you, Mr. Kirkpatrick-I haven’t heard a single objection.”

  “I don’t see how I can object, Judge. Mrs. Vergano claims to have witnesses who will testify to what she has alleged. Personally, I don’t think they have any credibility, but you’re the only person in this court who can decide the credibility of a witness.”

  “And I will, Mrs. Vergano, I will. And if I decide that you or your client has misused the judicial process there will be consequences.”

  Even in ill-fitting orange jail clothes with his legs and hands shackled Carl Rice commanded respect. He walked with dignity and-like a caged panther-he radiated a sense of danger that made you want to keep your distance.

  “May Mr. Rice have his shackles removed during his testimony?” Ami asked the judge.

  “Sergeant Perkins?” the judge said, addressing the ranking jail guard.

  “We would prefer that the irons stay on, Your Honor. Mr. Rice is considered a high-risk prisoner. We’ve been informed that he’s trained in martial arts and is ex-Special Forces. The sheriff knew this might come up, and he thinks the handcuffs and leg irons should stay on.”

  “I’m going to follow the sheriff’s recommendation, Mrs. Vergano. I might rule differently if this were a trial, but I know he’s a prisoner and that will not prejudice my decision on bail.”

  Carl shrugged to show that it made no difference to him. Judge Velasco ordered his bailiff to administer the oath, and the guards helped Rice into the witness box.

  “Mrs. Vergano,” Judge Velasco said, “before you examine Mr. Rice I want to inquire of him.”

  Ami nodded. She had expected this.

  The judge turned toward the witness. “Mr. Rice, Mrs. Vergano was your attorney…”

  “She still is, Your Honor,” Rice answered calmly.

  “That troubles me. Normally, one lawyer does not represent two defendants who are charged in the same case.”

  “Mrs. Vergano explained all the problems that could arise from her representation of Miss Kohler and me. I have waived any conflicts because Miss Kohler and I believe that it is in our best interests to have Mrs. Vergano representing both of us.”

  “This decision of yours makes me very nervous, but I will accede to your choice. However, I must discuss another matter with you. Are you aware that you are testifying under oath and that everything you say will be recorded by the court reporter and can be used against you in every court proceeding that occurs in your cases here, in California, and in federal court?”

  “Yes, sir, I have discussed this thoroughly with Mrs. Vergano.”

  “You could be convicting yourself of murder, assault, escape, what have you, out of your own mouth.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Your Honor, but I’m willing to risk my life to let the American people know the truth about Morris Wingate.”

  Judge Velasco was visibly agitated. For a moment it looked as if he might say more. Instead, he turned toward Ami.

  “Go ahead, Mrs. Vergano.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. Mr. Rice, did you serve in the United States Army?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was that during the Vietnam War?”

  “And after.”

  “When did your service end?”

  “Officially, I don’t think it ever did, but I left on my own accord in 1985.”

  “What were the circumstances that caused you to leave the service?”

  “General Morris Wingate sent me and the other members of an illegal unit that he was running out of the AIDC to North Vietnam. We were supposed to be rescuing American MIAs, but the whole thing was a setup. The North Vietnamese knew we were coming. There was an ambush. Everyone in the Unit was killed except me. I was captured, but I escaped. After a year, I made it back to the states and went underground. I figured no one would look for me, because the General would assume that I was dead.”

  “You testified that you were set up. By whom?”

  “By General Wingate. He wanted to eliminate everyone who was in the Unit, and he nearly succeeded.”

  Ami asked Rice to tell the judge how he was recruited into the Unit and to recount some of his missions. The noise from the gallery ceased as Rice hypnotized the spectators with testimony about ambushing mule trains in the Shan Hills, cutting the throats of village chiefs in Southeast Asia in the middle of the night, and assassinating spies in Europe and America. Ami heard the scratch of pencils on steno pads behind her in the press section, which was packed with reporters from every major newspaper in the country and several members of the foreign press.

  “Mr. Rice, you testified that you were recruited into General Wingate’s Unit after your first combat mission.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Were you wounded during that first mission?”

  “I was grazed by a bullet. It wasn’t anything serious.”

  “Were you hospitalized as a result of your wound?”

  “Well, I was sent to a hospital to have the wound checked, but they kept me less than a day.”

  “Were you hospitalized for combat-related stress?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Did you receive a more serious wound during the mission to rescue the MIAs?”

  “Yes. A shell exploded near me and I was hit by shrapnel.”

  “Let’s move to another subject. From what high school did you graduate?”

  “St. Martin’s Prep in California.”

  “Was Miss Kohler a student at the school?”

  “We were in the same class.”

  “Who is Vanessa Kohler’s father?”

  “General Morris Wingate.”

  “Did you meet General Wingate while you were dating his daughter?”

  “Yes, on many occasions.”

  “Did Miss Kohler break up with you while you were in high school?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I was drafted. She wanted me to resist the draft. I’d been accepted to college and could have gotten a deferment. She was upset when I didn’t try to get one and chose to serve.”

  “Did Miss Kohler believe that her father was responsible for your draft notice?”

  “Yes. She thought he had engineered my draft to interfere with our relationship.”

  “After high school, when was the next time you saw Miss Kohler?”

  “In 1985.”

  “Where did you meet?”

  “In Washington, D.C. I was teaching at the army language school at Fort Meyer, and she was attending law school and working for Congressman Eric Glass of California.”

  “At some point after you met Miss Kohler in Washington, did you tell her about your involvement with her father and your missions?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you find out sometime later what she did as a result of your confession?”

  “Yes. She stole the files of the ten members of the Unit from her father’s safe and gave them to Congressman Glass, who had a summer home on Lost Lake, California.”

  “Were you given any instructions by Morris
Wingate concerning the congressman and the files?”

  “General Wingate told me that Congressman Glass was a traitor who was going to sell the files to a foreign government. He instructed me to go to Lost Lake, retrieve the files, and torture the congressman to death.”

  There was a loud reaction in various parts of the spectator section, and Judge Velasco gaveled for silence. Ami continued her questions as soon as silence returned to the courtroom.

  “Was murder by torture unusual even in your line of work?”

  Rice’s composure cracked for the first time. He licked his lips and looked ill.

  “Was torturing someone to death unusual?” Ami repeated.

  “Yes,” Rice answered, his voice barely audible.

  “Did you follow the General’s orders?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did anyone see you kill Eric Glass?”

  Rice looked over at Vanessa. “Miss Kohler was in the house. I didn’t know that she would be there until I saw her. The General hadn’t told me that his daughter had given the files to the congressman.”

  “What did you do after you saw Miss Kohler?”

  “I panicked. I ran. When I got myself together, I took the files to the General and asked him to explain why Vanessa was at Lost Lake. He told me that Glass had seduced her into stealing the files. He said that she’d told the police that I killed the congressman. Then he told me that he would hide me in North Vietnam by sending me on a mission to save a group of American MIAs who were being held captive. He promised me that he would have a plan in place when I returned to ensure that I would not be arrested. He was going to arrange plastic surgery and a new identity.”

  “But that never happened?”

  “No,” Rice answered bitterly. “The mission was a trap. I could prove that the Unit existed and so could the rest of the men. He needed us dead to protect himself. All those brave soldiers who would have given their lives for their country…”

  Rice stopped. He was trying to maintain his composure, but he was on the verge of tears. He asked for a glass of water. Judge Velasco no longer looked skeptical. There were whispers in the gallery. Ami chanced a glance behind her. The spectators looked subdued and serious.

  “How did you survive?” Ami asked, her voice so low that the court reporter had to strain to hear her.

  “I escaped.”

  “Would you please tell the judge how that happened?”

  Carl gathered himself and told Judge Velasco how he was captured and tortured, and how he escaped, survived in the jungle, and made his way back to America. While he was speaking, Carl’s eyes never left the rail of the witness box. When he finished, he was totally spent.

  “Why did Miss Kohler break you out of the hospital?” Ami asked when Rice was ready to continue.

  “She believed that the General would try to kill me as soon as he learned that I was alive.”

  “So she rescued you to save your life?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were her fears for your safety justified?”

  “I believe they were.”

  “After you left the hospital, did you murder Dr. George French, a psychiatrist I was using in your case, and his wife?”

  “No.”

  “Who killed them?”

  “General Wingate had his men murder Dr. George French.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because his men tried to murder you also, Mrs. Vergano.”

  “And you rescued me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you think General Wingate murdered Dr. French and tried to kill me?”

  “You were the two people who had access to me at the hospital. He was afraid I’d told you about the Unit and his involvement in it so you could use the information as a bargaining chip in plea negotiation.”

  “Why did you break into the General’s mansion in California?”

  “His men had kidnapped Vanessa. I saw them. I was afraid for her life.”

  “So Miss Kohler did not go to her father’s house voluntarily?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  Brendan Kirkpatrick rose slowly and approached the witness. On the way to the stand, the prosecutor handed Ami copies of several documents.

  “Your Honor, I’ve just given counsel copies of State’s Exhibits 1, 2, and 3, which I have previously marked. Mrs. Vergano is willing to stipulate, for purposes of this hearing only, that they are Mr. Rice’s army records from his official file. I move their introduction into evidence.”

  “You’re willing to stipulate, Mrs. Vergano?” Judge Velasco asked.

  “Yes, for this hearing only, Your Honor.”

  “Very well. The documents will be admitted.”

  “I just have a few questions for you, Mr. Rice,” Kirkpatrick said as he handed the witness copies of the exhibits. “You’ve testified that you were in this so-called secret unit from the early nineteen-seventies until 1985, when you went AWOL?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you had numerous missions overseas?”

  “Yes.”

  “Look at your records. After your first combat mission, do they show any more overseas service?”

  “No, but these records are false. My missions were never on paper when I was in the Unit.”

  “So you have testified. Still, your official records do not support your testimony, do they?”

  “No.”

  “What was your rank in 1985?”

  “I was a captain.”

  “But the records list you as a sergeant, don’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “Look at Exhibit 3. That’s the psychiatric evaluation written by Dr. Howard Stienbock.”

  “I was never interviewed by this man. This is false.”

  “But it does say that you were discharged from the service for pretending to be a captain and the doctor does conclude that you may have been experiencing delusions as a result of the stress you suffered in your only combat mission.”

  “It was not my only combat mission. These documents were prepared by General Wingate to cover up my membership in the Unit.”

  “I see. They were written as part of the conspiracy against you?”

  “They were prepared as part of a cover-up.”

  “And you no longer have the records you took from Lost Lake?”

  “I gave them to the General.”

  “And the men in the Unit are all conveniently dead? Their bodies are in North Vietnam?”

  “It wasn’t convenient for them, Mr. Kirkpatrick. They were brave men and they died a hard death.”

  “So you say, but you can’t prove your story, can you?”

  Rice paused for a moment before shaking his head.

  “We need you to speak up for the record, Mr. Rice. Do you have any proof to support your accusations against General Morris Wingate?”

  “Other than my word, no,” Rice said, is voice barely above a whisper.

  “Then the judge pretty much has to take your word for the existence of this secret unit, your exploits in it, and the falsity of the official army records, doesn’t he?”

  Rice stared at the papers he held in his hand and did not answer. Kirkpatrick let the matter drop and introduced a new subject.

  “When you and the defendant were in high school, did she ever tell you how she felt about her father?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would it be fair to say that the defendant hates her father?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she ever tell you that she believed that General Wingate murdered her mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “And was part of the conspiracy to kill President John F. Kennedy?”

  There was a gasp in the courtroom and some laughter. Judge Velasco gaveled for order.

  “She never told me that she thought her father was involved in the Kennedy assassination.”

  “But she does hate her father?”

  “Yes.�
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  “And she would do anything-say anything-to hurt her father, wouldn’t she?”

  “Objection,” Ami said. “That question calls for speculation.”

  Before the judge could rule, Kirkpatrick said, “I’ll withdraw the question, and I have no further questions for the witness.”

  The guards helped Carl out of the witness box. When he passed by the defense table, he looked at Vanessa and she smiled. He smiled back as he was led out of the courtroom, but the smile lacked conviction.

  “Call your next witness,” the judge instructed.

  “Miss Kohler calls Dr. Leroy Ganett,” Ami said.

  Dr. Ganett walked to the stand without looking at Ami or Vanessa. He was upset when he took the oath.

  “Dr. Ganett,” Ami asked after establishing the doctor’s credentials and his position at the county hospital, “you were Carl Rice’s treating physician, were you not?”

  “Yes,” he answered tersely. It was obvious that he wished he were anywhere other than in the witness box being questioned by Ami on behalf of Vanessa Kohler.

  “And you knew him as Daniel Morelli?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s refer to him by his true name-Carl Rice-from now on, okay?”

  “If you wish.”

  “Why were you treating Mr. Rice?”

  “He was brought to the hospital with gunshot wounds. I operated on him, and after he was placed in the security ward I continued to treat him.”

  “Doctor, I’m handing you defense Exhibit 1. Please identify it for the court.”

  “It’s my medical report on Morelli’s-uh, Rice’s-condition.”

  “Did you write it after examining him?”

  “Yes.”

  Ami pointed at a line in the report. “Would you read this sentence to the court, please?”

  Dr. Ganett saw where she was pointing and cleared his throat.

  “Uh, this sentence says that an X ray of Mr. Rice’s abdomen showed metal fragments compatible with shrapnel.”