J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 02 - No Time to Die

by J. D. Trafford

  The good news, however, was that Michael’s third witness of the day was going to create a little excitement.

  Michael approached the podium. He placed his notes in front of him, scanned his questions, and then looked up at the man sitting in the raised wooden witness box.

  “For the record, could you please state and spell your name?”

  Michael glanced back at Jane who looked at him with a flicker of panic. Her doubts made the room feel a little hotter. His hands began to sweat. He could stop, but without Roberto, they didn’t have much choice. They had to push the rules.

  The night before, Michael and Jane had talked about how they had nothing to lose. It had been brave talk after a long, tough day. Now, in the courtroom and in front of Judge Delaney, Michael didn’t feel so brave.

  He worked through the preliminary questions. Michael established that Antonio Sanz was a father of three, married 22 years, and currently living in Mexico. He established that Mr. Sanz came to the United States illegally three years ago to work for Jolly Boy, and then he was arrested and deported a year ago.

  Michael stared at his notes. Time to roll the dice.

  His body and his voice took on an edge as he pushed forward.

  “When you were at Jolly Boy, did you ever make mistakes?”

  “Si.” Mr. Sanz smiled. “I mean yes.”

  “When you say mistakes, what kind of mistakes?”

  “I was away from home, lonely,” Mr. Sanz looked down at his hands. “I drank too much, stayed out all night, and I brought a woman back to my trailer in the morning.”

  “Now when you say ‘my trailer,’ was it really your trailer?”

  Mr. Sanz shook his head. “No, owned by Jolly Boy for the workers. We sleep probably 10 in the trailer. And Jolly Boy has rules about guests in the trailers.”

  “And what date are we talking about? When did this late night happen?”

  Mr. Sanz shook his head.

  “Don’t know.”

  “Was it the summer?” Michael asked. He could sense that he had Harrison Grant’s attention. Grant leaned forward in his chair, listening. Judge Delaney also edged up in his chair, eyeing Mr. Sanz with suspicion. Everybody prepared to pounce as Mr. Sanz answered that it was June or July.

  Then Michael moved on to the next question.

  “And when you arrived back at your trailer, was anybody there?”

  Mr. Sanz shook his head.

  “No, they all leave for the fields already. I missed the van that come to pick us up. The trailer was empty.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Objection.” Harrison Grant rose to his feet. “Relevance and calls for a narrative answer.”

  Judge Delaney smiled. It was the objection that he had been waiting for. He turned to the jurors.

  “I’m going to talk with these attorneys. I want you all to stand up, stretch, and admire our beautiful courthouse. You are encouraged to talk amongst yourselves, just not about this case.”

  He turned back to Michael and Harrison Grant, and then motioned for them to approach the bench. The two came forward, and Judge Delaney leaned in. He hovered over them.“What’s this about counselor?” he asked Michael.

  “Same as yesterday, Your Honor.”

  Michael felt his stomach turn. It was never good to lie to a judge. “Just establishing the intolerable working conditions at Jolly Boy.”

  Judge Delaney turned to Harrison Grant.

  “Do you know what this is about?”

  “I have no idea.” Harrison Grant looked at Michael with disgust. “If it is truly the same as yesterday, then this is getting cumulative and unnecessary. We had multiple worker witnesses yesterday, and then there have already been two this morning. I ask the court to stop it, and allow this case to move forward. The parade of illegal workers hasn’t offered anything so far, and it’s not going to offer anything in the future.”

  Judge Delaney raised his hand, stopping Harrison Grant from getting too far into the preview of his closing argument. He turned to Michael.

  “Response?”

  “Jolly Boy had an opportunity to depose this worker, and they chose not to. If there is a surprise, it’s due to their lack of preparation.”

  Judge Delaney stared at Michael, evaluating what he had just heard. He turned to Grant.

  “I overrule your objection, he can ask his questions.”

  Judge Delaney turned back to Michael.

  “Get to the point. This better have something to do with causation.”

  “I understand, Your Honor.” Michael returned to the podium. He waited until Harrison Grant and the jury were settled back in their seats, and then he continued his questions.

  “As you were saying,” he said, “you were with a woman, alone, in your trailer. Everybody else was at work, and you should’ve been at work, too.”

  “Yes.” Mr. Sanz nodded his head. He looked at the jury, and then continued, “The woman and I began to kiss. We laid down on my mattress.”

  Mr. Sanz paused, embarrassed. The courtroom was silent, waiting.

  “And then what happened?” Michael asked.

  “A police officer burst through the door. Deputy Maus worked for Jolly Boy. He had a nightstick and he started to beat me with –”

  There was an eruption of noise. Harrison Grant started to shout objections. Michael yelled at his witness to continue to answer the question. Judge Delaney brought his gavel down hard, trying to bring order back into the courtroom.

  Judge Delaney stood. Because of the height of the bench and that he was already a tall man, Judge Delaney towered over the proceedings in his black robe. He pointed at Michael and Harrison Grant.

  “You and you, in my chambers, now.”

  He turned to the jury, and managed a contained smile.

  “We’re going to break for the day,” he said. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

  ###

  Michael, Jane, Harrison Grant and Judge Delaney walked into his chambers.

  “Door.” Judge Delaney pointed. “Shut it.”

  His jaw was locked.

  “I’m asking for a mistrial, Your Honor.” Harrison Grant stared at Michael and Jane. His tone was sad, as if he was being forced to ask due to their irresponsible conduct.

  “A mistrial?”

  Judge Delaney ran his hand through his perfect head of white hair. He looked at Michael and Jane.

  “No surprises, I told you two. No surprises is the rule, and now we have a surprise. There aren’t supposed to be surprises.”

  Michael sat down in the chair across from Judge Delaney. He had been hoping the situation would de-escalate from the time it took for them to go from the courtroom to Judge Delaney’s chambers, but clearly it hadn’t.

  “I know there aren’t supposed to be surprises,” Michael said, “but, as I told you at our bench conference, this witness has been identified and known to defendants for nearly six months. They chose not to depose him. He’s establishing the working conditions at Jolly Boy.”

  “That’s not true.” Harrison Grant shook his head. “We paid to travel to Mexico and depose the witnesses we heard yesterday. After we returned and shortly before the discovery deadline, we got notice of this witness and a few others. They were playing games.”

  “We disclosed, Your Honor. I said I wouldn’t oppose a discovery extension to allow them time to depose this witness. I have the letter.” Michael opened his folder and gave Judge Delaney a copy of the letter that he had sent to Harrison Grant.

  Judge Delaney read it, and then put it down on his desk.

  “Your Honor,” Harrison Grant saw that Michael was wearing down the judge. “I spoke with counsel, and I asked him what this witness was going to testify to. Mr. Collins stated that this witness was merely going to give testimony similar to the witnesses yesterday and about the working conditions at Jolly Boy. He didn’t say that the witness was going to accuse a decorated law enforcement officer of assault.”

  Judge Del
aney turned back to Michael.

  “Is that true?”

  “I didn’t get into detail with Mr. Grant about the specifics,” Michael answered. “But frankly that’s not my job. I’m required to make my witness available under the rules, which I did. There’s nothing in the rules that requires me to tell Harrison Grant what I think are the most important facts that the witness is going to testify about. I only have to provide a general statement. That’s the law.”

  “It’s dishonest,” Judge Delaney said. “There are things such as professional courtesy, which you obviously disregarded. You omitted material facts in your discussions.”

  “Your Honor,” Jane stepped forward. She had been standing against the back wall. “May I speak?”

  “You may.” Judge Delaney raised an eyebrow and bit his lower lip. “I want to know what you think. It doesn’t seem like you’d be okay with this.” Judge Delaney pointed at Michael. “He’s not exactly acting in a manner consistent with your reputation.”

  “I know the rules, and the rules are clear that Mr. Collins does not have to identify the most important facts in the case. That’s attorney work-product. It’s like me asking in discovery, ‘What is the most important fact related to your defense?’ An opposing attorney does not have to answer that. Harrison Grant doesn’t have to sift through his file and identify what he thinks are the most important facts in his favor. Similarly, neither do we. That’s what Mr. Grant is upset about. He didn’t do his job. He had an opportunity to find out what this witness was going to testify about, and he chose not to. And we’re not required to tell him. The system is premised upon each side advocating for their own client. Harrison Grant should’ve advocated, but he didn’t. He didn’t take us seriously. He doesn’t respect us. And he thought he could slide by. Now he’s claiming we surprised him with a witness that he knew about six months ago.”

  Judge Delaney raised his hand, silencing her. He thought for a moment.

  “Advocating is one thing, Ms. Nance.” Judge Delaney looked at Michael. “It seems more like counsel tricked the other side. Harrison Grant asked him what Mr. Sanz was going to testify about, and Mr. Collins told him that he was going to be similar to the witnesses yesterday. But, obviously, he is not similar. An attorney has an obligation of candor.”

  Judge Delaney folded his hands together and brought them up to his chin.

  “I’m not allowing the testimony to continue.”

  Michael stood. “Your Honor –”

  “Is this witness going to say that Deputy Maus acted under the direct supervision and knowledge of Jolly Boy?” The judge asked.

  “That’s who paid him.”

  “That’s not enough.” Judge Delaney shook his head. “Do you have any witness that is going to testify that any executive at Jolly Boy told Maus to beat this worker with a night stick?”

  “No,” Michael said, “but I don’t think that’s –”

  “Yes it is necessary,” Judge Delaney said. “It’s called causation, and you don’t have it. This Maus person isn’t on trial. You sued Jolly Boy. That’s what this trial is about.” Judge Delaney looked away in disgust. “It’s done.”

  He took a deep breath, calming himself. Then Judge Delaney looked at Harrison Grant.

  “And no mistrial for you. I’ll strike the testimony, instruct the jury to disregard it, and we’ll continue tomorrow.”

  He pointed at Michael.

  “Unless you have a witness that is going to directly link Jolly Boy to what happens out in those fields, you should forget about it. I won’t allow it. I won’t allow any more similar worker testimony. If you try again to sneak it in, I’ll find you in contempt. Got it?”

  ###

  They regrouped back at the office. Michael set two square boxes down on the table, each filled with a hot Speedy’s pizza.

  “You get the Canadian bacon and pineapple for me this time?” Kermit leaned forward examining the boxes. “Sir Speedy fires up my old soul with the swine and pine, my friend.”

  “It’s on the bottom.” Michael slid the bottom box out from under the other. He handed it to Kermit, and then looked over at Jane. She hadn’t said a word during the ride from the courthouse to the office. Once they were in the office, she just sat at her desk. She kept her back turned to them, thumbing through the papers at her desk.

  “You gotta eat.” Michael called over to her.

  Jane slowly turned around.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m not that hungry.”

  She pushed the stack of papers away.

  “I don’t even know why I’m preparing any more. It’s a train wreck.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Michael said. “We can still pray for the DOJ. Your ex might surprise you.”

  “Doubt it.” Jane got up and walked over to the table. She grabbed a small slice of pizza and sat down. “Last night he didn’t sound too hopeful. My guess is that he’s heard how the trial is going and just wants to meet in person to let me down easy.”

  “You’re meeting with him tonight?” Michael asked.

  Jane nodded her head, and then looked at the clock on the wall.

  “In a couple hours.” She turned back to Michael. “What are you two going to do?”

  Michael hesitated. He didn’t want to tell her, but figured he should.

  “Kermit has some ideas about Miggy’s testimony. Ways to give it some credibility.”

  Jane narrowed her eyes, and then looked at Kermit.

  “You’re going to verify the spirits?”

  “Maybe.” Kermit smiled. He took a big bite of his slice of his pizza. “No guarantees, but I think I got a way to make the spirits more tangible to those that are less enlightened and judgmental.”

  Jane looked at Michael.

  “Have fun.” She grabbed a bottle of water off of the table and started toward the front door. “If you find enlightenment, let me know.”

  “I will,” Michael said. “And if Mr. Justice offers you enlightenment tonight at your meeting, please let us know. I want in on that, too.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Brian McNaughten handed the drink to his brother Dylan. They were in Brian’s basement. He had seen an article in GQ magazine about “man caves.” They sounded cool, and so Brian had sent the article to his architect and had told the architect to make one for him. Three months and $150,000 later, Brian had his own man cave.

  It was all dark wood. One end of the room had a flat screen television, big overstuffed leather chairs, and a pool table. The television was surrounded by thick leather-bound books that Brian had never read. He wasn’t even sure they were real, since he’d never taken one off of the shelf. The other end was an exact replica of the bar at Maggie Malone’s Public House, a tiny Scottish pub in Glasgow.

  The two brothers sat on bar stools. They clinked glasses.

  “You should have seen them today,” Brian said. “Pathetic.”

  “When’s it over?” Dylan took a drink, staying away from the cocaine during the trial had been hard. He wanted to get back to the clubs. He needed to get back to the clubs.

  “Can’t be more than a few days,” Brian said. “They tried to get some stuff in about Maus. The judge wouldn’t allow it. I don’t know what else they’ve got. Can’t be much.”

  Dylan nodded.

  “That’s good.”

  “However you got rid of Roberto Estrada was brilliant.” Brian took another sip. “I knew he was gone as soon as they walked in the door. It was all over their faces.”

  Brian took an envelope of cash out of his pocket. He put the envelope on the bar.

  “Here’s a little insurance. You can take a cut for your other activities, but make sure most of it gets to Maus.”

  “Now?” Dylan wondered. “I thought you wanted me to stay low.”

  Usually his brother didn’t care about the work that he did, lately it had been different. Brian was getting more involved, micro-managing. Dylan didn’t like it. His brother was upsetting the bala
nce.

  Brian smiled, not picking up on Dylan’s discomfort.

  “Maybe your sense of adventure is rubbing off on me.” Brian drank a little more of his beer. “I want to keep Maus tight, but only for now, and then we need to cut him loose when the trial is over. He’s becoming a problem. People know too much about him. He’s too high-profile.”

  Dylan put the money in his pocket.

  “Then things can get back to normal, right?”

  “Of course.” Brian stood. “I’ll get out of your hair after the trial.”

  “Good,” Dylan said. “You make shit too complex.”

  Brian leaned over. He patted his brother on the shoulder.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Brian said. “This will be over soon.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  It was after hours, so Jane called up to be let inside. After a few rings, he answered.

  “It’s me. I’m downstairs.”

  Kent came down a few minutes later. He swiped his magnetic card. The door clicked and Kent pushed it open.

  “Sorry about having to meet so late.” He ushered Jane inside. “I just figured with the trial that it’d be easier.”

  Jane noticed that he wasn’t making eye contact. Another sign that her case against Jolly Boy wasn’t going to get any help from the Department of Justice. Kent was already ashamed, trying to let her down easy.

  They walked together. They went past the empty security check points, and then to the elevators. Kent swiped his magnetic card again, and then pressed the button.

  The elevator doors slid open. They got inside. Jane looked over at Kent.

  “You know you didn’t have to do this. We didn’t have to meet in person. If you can’t set it up … I mean, if you can’t help our case, I understand.”