“It’s not so black-and-white, is it, Agent Daugherty?”
“Not to me it isn’t,” Daugherty said.
64
Following Daugherty, Velasquez called Randy Traeger, the former CFO of LSR&C. She established Traeger’s background, then proceeded to establish that LSR&C had been unable to make payments to CJ Security for approximately three months leading up to the end of 2017. She also established that Jenkins had told Traeger he’d exhausted his line of credit with the bank.
Sloane stood when Velasquez sat down. “You were the chief financial officer of LSR&C, in charge of all the money coming into and out of the company, weren’t you?”
“In a sense.”
Sloane was in no mood for half answers. “That was your job, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, in part.”
“So why wasn’t LSR&C paying CJ Security?”
“I asked Mitchell Goldstone that same question and—”
“All due respect,” Sloane said, cutting him off. “But I want to know from the chief financial officer why LSR&C could not make payment to CJ Security.”
“We just didn’t have the cash flow during those months.”
“And why was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“It was your job to know, wasn’t it?”
“Well, yes, but . . .”
“But you didn’t take steps to figure it out?”
“I tried.”
“You asked the chief operating officer. What else did you do?”
“I tried to determine what was happening to our profits.”
“And what was happening to LSR&C’s profits?”
“I couldn’t make a determination.”
“You didn’t know.”
“No.”
Sloane took Traeger through his educational and professional background, which was extensive, then asked, “And with all this education, even you couldn’t figure out where millions of dollars were going?”
“No.”
“Are you aware that your chief operating officer, Mitchell Goldstone, contends that LSR&C was a CIA-backed company through which the CIA funneled money to operatives all over the world?”
Velasquez stood. “Objection, Your Honor, violates the CIPA ruling.”
Harden considered this, then said, “Overruled.”
Sloane was not asking about the documents, but rather what Mitchell Goldstone had alleged, and hopefully would testify to. Harden, for one, seemed curious. So did several jurors. It remained a risk. Sloane could state the accusation and Goldstone would confirm it, but the government would paint Goldstone as a liar, and without the LSR&C documents, Sloane had nothing to back up the testimony.
“I didn’t know about that accusation until I read it in the paper.”
Sloane returned to the table and picked up the government’s complaint against LSR&C. “Charges were brought against you in the same case as Mr. Goldstone, weren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“You agreed to provide testimony against Mr. Goldstone in exchange for immunity, didn’t you?”
“That was the agreement my attorneys reached.”
“Don’t go blaming us attorneys,” Sloane said, which drew a smattering of laughter from the jury box. “You signed that agreement yourself, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
Sloane introduced the signed agreement. “You sold out Mitchell Goldstone to keep your own hide out of jail, didn’t you?”
Velasquez stood. “Objection, Your Honor. Counsel is badgering the witness.”
“Cross-examination,” Harden said. “I’ll allow it.”
“I agreed to provide testimony about what I knew and didn’t know,” Traeger said.
“And you found out you didn’t know a lot, didn’t you?”
“I don’t think that . . .” Traeger paused and looked to Jenkins. Then he said, “I guess that’s true. I didn’t.”
Sloane followed up with a question to draw the jurors’ attention to the CIA, the implication being that even the CFO of the company didn’t know what was going on. “Mr. Traeger, did you ever meet Carl Emerson?”
“No.”
“Did you at least know who he was?”
“No.”
“Did you know a Richard Peterson?”
“He was the CEO of TBT Investments.”
Bingo. The defense now had confirmation, without relying on the documents or on Goldstone’s testimony. “And TBT Investments was a subsidiary of what company?”
“LSR&C.”
“Your company,” Sloane said. “The company for which you were the CFO, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that Richard Peterson was actually Carl Emerson?”
“No.”
“Now, when the indictment was issued against LSR&C, Mr. Goldstone, you, and the other officers, did you try to reach Mr. Goldstone?”
“I tried, but I wasn’t able to reach him.”
“Did you drive into the office looking for him?”
“Yes.”
“When was that?”
“The next day.”
“And by that you mean the day after the indictment came down?”
“Correct.”
“And did you find him in the office?”
Traeger started to look uncomfortable. “No.”
“What did you find when you drove to LSR&C’s offices in the Columbia Center the day after the indictment came down?”
“Nothing. Everything was gone.”
“Everything? The cubicles and the computers?”
“Yes.”
“Gone. How about the carpeting? Also gone?”
“It was just concrete floors.”
“The entire office was completely dismantled in what, less than twelve hours since you had been there?”
“Yes.”
“And all the company files? Did you find those?”
“The physical files were also gone, and the network server was gone.”
“Who took all of this?”
“I don’t know.”
“And what about all the investment money? Was it also gone?”
“I couldn’t access the company’s server, so . . .”
“Millions of dollars just vanished, along with the entire office. Everything just went poof, like a magic act, correct?”
“I suppose, yes.”
Sloane sat, and after a brief redirect of Traeger, Velasquez dismissed him.
Near five o’clock, Harden dismissed the jury. For once, the government had no motions to argue.
“Who will the government call in the morning?” Harden asked.
“We haven’t made that determination yet, Judge,” Velasquez said.
“Whoever it is, let the defense know tonight.” Harden rapped his gavel. “We’re adjourned for the day.”
65
The following morning, as Jenkins settled into his seat, Maria Velasquez had a surprise for the defense, and this one was problematic. Sloane and Jenkins expected the prosecution to continue its case, though Velasquez had not called the prior evening to advise which witnesses she would call that day. When Harden took the bench and instructed the government to call its next witness, Velasquez stood and said, “Your Honor, the government rests.”
Sloane did not physically react, but Jenkins knew that, inside, his attorney was scrambling. Judges liked nothing less than an unprepared attorney, especially one of Sloane’s caliber. Any complaint by Sloane that the government had again sandbagged the defense would be met with disinterest. Velasquez could have told Sloane, and the court, of the government’s decision the night before, but she would no doubt have a readymade response why she had not.
The real question was: Why had the government rested its case with at least twelve more names on its witness list? It was possible the prosecution believed it had proven its case. It was also possible the government was dumping the case back in the defense’s lap and intended to impugn Sloane on his
opening promise to take the prosecution’s burden and prove Jenkins’s innocence.
If Harden was surprised by the government’s position, he also didn’t show it. He turned to Sloane. “Call your first witness, Mr. Sloane.”
That was all well and good, except Jenkins knew Sloane’s witnesses were not yet in court. Sloane stood and said, “Your Honor, may I have a minute?”
“A minute,” Harden said.
Sloane looked to the gallery and motioned Jake forward. At the railing, Sloane whispered, “Go out and call Carolyn. Tell her to get the Columbia Center leasing agent here ASAP, as well as Addy Beckman.”
“Tell her to also call Claudia Baker,” Jenkins said. “Have Carolyn tell Claudia that I need a favor. She’ll come. It will take an hour or more to drive down, but she’ll come.”
“What are you going to do in the interim?” Jake asked.
“Stall.”
“Mr. Sloane,” Judge Harden said. “Call your first witness.”
Sloane straightened as Jake hurried from the courtroom, punching in numbers on his cell phone. Across the courtroom, Velasquez and her entourage of lawyers sat as if waiting for Sloane to complain. He didn’t. “Certainly, Your Honor. The defense calls Alex Jenkins.”
Alex had been in the court the first day, and then every chance she could. Sloane arranged for a babysitter to watch CJ and Lizzie and for the next hour, Sloane led Alex on a slow and methodical journey of her marriage to Charlie and their children. She outlined the formation of CJ Security, their relationship with CFO Randy Traeger, and CJ Security’s relationship with LSR&C. She testified that she had never heard of TBT Investments until the trial.
She continued until Jake returned to the courtroom and nodded to Sloane, who approached the railing. Jake handed him a sheet of paper.
Leasing agent and Baker in the hallway waiting to be called. Beckman on way.
Sloane thanked Alex and excused her. Velasquez had no questions.
Sloane then called the Columbia Center leasing agent, who confirmed Randy Traeger’s testimony that LSR&C’s offices had been cleaned out the day after the story broke of an SEC investigation.
“The entire company was gone,” the agent said. “I mean everything was gone, even the carpet. I took pictures because I’d never seen anything like it.”
The jurors loved the man’s incredulity, as well as the photos Sloane broadcast on the court’s computer monitors.
Again, Velasquez declined to cross-examine.
After the leasing agent, Sloane called Claudia Baker and established her job as the receptionist at the building where CJ Security maintained an office. Then he said, “At any time during your employment did the FBI come to CJ Security’s offices?”
“Yes,” she said. “An agent by the name of Chris Daugherty came to the office.”
Upon prompting, Baker provided the date of Daugherty’s visit.
“Did Agent Daugherty say why he was there?”
“He said he knew Charles Jenkins worked for the CIA. He said he wanted the files of CJ Security so he could confirm the relationship.”
Sloane thanked Baker and sat.
Velasquez quickly stood. It was possible, Jenkins thought, as he watched Velasquez charge the lectern, that they had underestimated her preparation. Then again, he knew Sloane had laid a trap and was hoping Velasquez stepped in it. “Ms. Baker, you fielded calls for CJ Security, including calls for Mr. Jenkins?”
“Yes.”
“At any time in your employment did you field a call from a man named Carl Emerson?”
“I don’t recall. It’s possible but . . .”
“You don’t recall that name. How about Richard Peterson?”
“I don’t recall that name either.”
“Did Mr. Jenkins ever tell you he was traveling to Russia?”
“No.”
“Did he ever tell you that he worked for the CIA?”
“No.”
“Did he ever tell you that he had once worked for the CIA?”
“No. I didn’t know about it until I read it in the newspaper.”
“You said FBI agent Daugherty came to CJ Security’s offices and said ‘we know Mr. Jenkins worked for the CIA,’ is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t write down any notes detailing such a conversation, did you?”
Velasquez had just stepped in Sloane’s trap and made her first mistake of the trial. She’d asked a question to which she did not know the answer.
“I did, actually.”
Velasquez froze, and in that instance, Baker pushed on. “I called Mr. Jenkins and told him what the FBI agent said to me, and Mr. Jenkins asked me to transcribe what the FBI agent said, date, and sign it. He said I should mail the document to myself and to his attorney.”
Velasquez knew she’d backed herself into a corner. She had no choice but to ask the next question. If she didn’t, Sloane would. “And you did that?”
“I have the envelope right here.” She pulled it from her bag. “It’s still sealed.”
Sloane stood when Velasquez sat. After establishing the date of the postmark, he had Baker open the envelope and read her statement. Then he said, “Did you field calls made to Mr. Jenkins’s cell phone?”
“No. Not unless he forwarded his cell phone to the office.”
Sloane thanked and dismissed her.
After the lunch recess—a much-needed reprieve that allowed Sloane to catch his breath and go over Addison Beckman’s testimony with her—he called the forensic psychiatrist. He established her background and went through each test and its purpose. “What conclusions did you reach as a result of putting Mr. Jenkins through all of these tests?”
“I concluded Mr. Jenkins was telling the truth, and I told you to believe him. I also concluded that Mr. Jenkins was fiercely loyal to his country.”
Sloane sat and Velasquez took the lectern.
“Ms. Beckman, did you question Mr. Jenkins as to the reasons why he left the CIA in 1978?”
“I did not.”
“He didn’t tell you that he walked away from the agency without even telling his station chief that he was quitting?”
“No. My focus was on the present.”
“He didn’t tell you he left the agency because he was disgruntled?”
“We didn’t discuss it.”
“He didn’t tell you he was disillusioned?”
“We didn’t discuss his reason for leaving in 1978.”
“But you did conclude he was fiercely loyal to his country, right?”
“Yes.”
Velasquez’s tone became increasingly more incredulous. “But in reaching that conclusion you didn’t consider that he left his job at the CIA and walked away without telling anyone why he was leaving or where he was going?”
“He walked away. He didn’t betray his country.”
“Not then he didn’t,” Velasquez said.
Sloane shot to his feet. “Objection.”
“Sustained,” Harden said, not waiting for anything more to be said, and shooting Velasquez a reproachful look.
“You also administered tests and concluded that Mr. Jenkins was telling the truth—is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Did Mr. Jenkins tell you that his training to become a CIA operative included how to pass an interrogation?”
“No.”
“You didn’t know that he’d been trained to get an interrogator to believe he was telling the truth when he was, in fact, lying?”
“I don’t know whether he had that training or not, but I’m not an interrogator. I’m a forensic psychiatrist. I would have known if he was lying.”
Velasquez gave that answer a smile, and let the jurors see it. “If we were to believe his current story, we’d have to believe he was skilled at lying, wouldn’t we?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Wouldn’t we have to believe that he successfully lied to Russian FSB officers and got those offi
cers to believe he was telling them the truth? Wouldn’t we have to believe that?”
“I suppose we would,” Beckman said.
“So, we can assume Mr. Jenkins is a pretty good liar, can’t we?”
“Objection, Your Honor, argumentative,” Sloane said.
“Sustained.”
Velasquez, having made her point, sat.
After a brief redirect, with the end of the day approaching, Harden adjourned the proceedings. Velasquez waited until the jurors had left the courtroom, then said, “Your Honor, we have a motion concerning the defense’s subpoenaing of Carl Emerson to appear and testify and would request that the courtroom be cleared.”
“So, you found him,” Harden said.
“We did,” Velasquez said.
“A blank envelope was slipped under my law firm’s door with the address inside. I found the envelope yesterday morning,” Sloane said.
Harden cleared the courtroom, then looked to Velasquez. “Proceed with your motion, Ms. Velasquez.”
“Your Honor, based on the Ninth Circuit’s decision that the LSR&C documents are classified under CIPA, the government objects to the defense’s subpoenaing Mr. Emerson. Mr. Emerson cannot testify as to subjects set forth in documents designated by the court of appeals as classified and potentially damaging to national security. Nor can those documents be used to impeach him. Therefore, the government moves to quash the subpoena to Mr. Emerson.”
“Mr. Sloane?”
“Mr. Emerson’s testimony is not the same as asking him about classified documents. We certainly don’t intend to introduce the documents, but that does not preclude us from asking Mr. Emerson questions about his relationship with TBT Investments and TBT’s relationship to LSR&C. This is a critical portion of our defense, and it is the defendant’s constitutional right to defend himself.”
Harden continued flipping through the government’s motion, then flipped it back to its original page and set it down. “I agree, Mr. Sloane. CIPA protects the documents. It doesn’t prohibit you from asking Mr. Emerson questions about his relationship to the two companies. The defendant has a constitutional right to defend himself, and while I will not allow you to go so far as to injure national security, I do believe you have the right to ask Mr. Emerson questions, and I believe this jury has a right to hear him testify. I’m hereby ordering the government to produce Mr. Emerson in this courtroom, tomorrow morning at nine a.m. at the defense’s expense.”
The Eighth Sister Page 34
