Dark Money

by Larry D. Thompson

  “I am, Dr. Reddy. This is Jack Bryant, the head of the investigation into the events in Westover Hills. Colby Stripling is his assistant.”

  They shook hands.

  “What’s her status, Doctor?” Jack asked.

  “She started waking a couple of hours ago. At first she didn’t even know who she was. When I said she was Miriam Van Zandt, she seemed to understand and nodded off again. She woke a few minutes later and asked what town she was in and what she was doing here. I told her that she had a broken leg and several rib fractures, but the worst injury was to her head. She wanted to know when she could get out. Before I could answer, she was gone again.”

  “Can I talk to her?” Colby asked. “Maybe she’ll respond to another female voice.”

  Dr. Reddy nodded. Colby walked to the head of the bed and lightly squeezed her hand. At first there was nothing. Then she felt a weak squeeze back. “Miriam, I’m Colby Stripling. Can you hear me?”

  While Colby was trying to get a response, Jack pulled Dr. Reddy to the door and in a low voice said, “Doctor, if she wakes enough, can I tell her about what she did at the Hale mansion and about the assault at the compound? I need to do it to try to get some information that might help our investigation.”

  Dr. Reddy thought for a moment and replied, “Do what you must. She may be awake in the morning or she might never wake again.” They returned to her bedside as Miriam opened her eyes.

  “Miriam, do you feel like answering some questions?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you remember being at the compound and the fighting that went on there?”

  “I remember I was shot but tossed a grenade under my trailer. What’s happened to my dad?”

  Colby looked at Dr. Reddy who nodded his agreement. “I’m sorry, Miriam. Your dad was killed.”

  Tears filled Miriam’s eyes, but she didn’t lose consciousness. “He died for a good cause. All he wanted was freedom, same as the heroes in the Alamo.”

  Joe stepped forward. “Miriam, we know that you killed a man at that Halloween party in Westover Hills and almost killed the governor. I could read you your rights, but we don’t need your testimony to convict you.” Joe spoke softly. “If you’ll help us, I can get you life in prison. Maybe you’ll get out in thirty years.”

  The patient stared at the wall. The others worried that she was about to lapse back into the coma before she spoke. “Pa’s dead. What about Manny?”

  “If you’re talking about Manford Donley, he’ll be standing trial along with the rest of the defenders that stayed to fight.”

  “I don’t know much.”

  “Who paid you?” Jack asked.

  Miriam was quiet while she searched her memory. “I don’t know. Money was wired to Pa’s Cayman Island account. He put some of it in mine. All the transactions were on the computers. I never knew who put up the money. Neither did Pa. Money came from a Vietnam War buddy of his. That’s all I knew. I was trying to blow up those computers when I was hurt.”

  “You succeeded, Miriam,” Jack said. “The computers were blown to smithereens. You know the name of your dad’s friend?”

  Long silence.

  Miriam closed her eyes.

  “Miriam,” Colby said, “who was your dad’s friend?”

  Her eyes opened. “Pa called him Cross. Said he got a tattoo of a black cross on the side of his neck when they were on some R and R in Taiwan. That’s the only name I ever knew. Pa said he lived in New Orleans or somewhere around there. Now I need to sleep.”

  Joe thanked Dr. Reddy and asked that he be notified when she woke again. They stepped out into the hallway. “Let’s go downstairs to the cafeteria. I’m buying.”

  They rode the elevator to the basement in silence. The cafeteria was just opening, and they were able to fill mugs with hot, fresh coffee. They had the place to themselves and chose a table away from the door.

  “So, Jack, what have we got?” Joe asked.

  “Looks like a dead end, doesn’t it?” Jack said. “Chances of finding an old man in New Orleans with a cross on his neck are pretty damn slim, maybe next to impossible.”

  “If he’s ever been arrested, we document tattoos these days,” Joe said.

  “For that matter, if he re-upped in the army or any branch of the military, it would have been recorded, just like scars. We can have Walt check with the army, but I don’t know how they track that kind of thing.”

  Colby was stirring her coffee with a plastic spoon. “Are we sure that the compound was searched thoroughly? Maybe they overlooked some piece of the computer.”

  “No way, Colby,” Joe said. “I talked to Colonel Burnside. They looked under every rock and grain of sand, not to say they didn’t also search the tunnels and trailers. Found weapons that Burnside confiscated. They’re now stored in Austin. Found lots of other stuff, kid’s toys, MREs that could have lasted for months. They did find fragments of computers but the DPS forensics guys couldn’t do anything with them.”

  46

  Cecil Christiansen immediately put his appellate partner to work, drafting a petition for the Fort Worth Court of Appeals, seeking to overturn Judge Jamison’s decision to require disclosure of the donors to O’Connell’s SOS committee, which, of course, was characterized as a social welfare organization.

  When Christiansen demanded to depose Walt, Jack agreed. Walt arrived at his RV early on the day before the deposition. Jack thought he detected alcohol on his breath. Not a good sign, particularly so early in the morning. Walt sat at the table with both hands wrapped around his coffee cup. He refused to look Jack in the eye. Jack had prepared hundreds of witnesses for deposition and trial, and he recognized that his usual tactics would not work with Walt.

  “I know this is going to be difficult for you. You’re going to be asked questions that may make you re-live the whole night. If you start having another flashback, immediately ask for a break. Understand?”

  Walt continued to stare at his coffee cup. Jack did not recall ever yelling at a client while preparing him for deposition, but there was a first time for everything. He pounded his fist on the table. “Dammit, Walt, I’m your friend and lawyer. If you won’t talk to me, tomorrow will be a disaster.”

  Walt blinked his eyes and focused on Jack. “I’m sorry. I got an anti-depressant and something for anxiety from my regular doctor, not a shrink.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved two bottles, extracted a pill from each and washed them down with coffee. “I’ve been trying not to take them, but I suppose now’s the time. I promise I’ll do better.”

  “State your name,” Christiansen said.

  “Walter,” He broke out in a cough and had to take a sip of water before continuing. “Frazier, Jr.”

  “Mr. Frazier…”

  “It’s Sergeant Frazier.”

  Christiansen nodded. “Sergeant Frazier, you just raised your hand and took an oath administered by the court reporter. Did you have any difficulty understanding it?”

  “No, sir.”

  Jack kept his poker face, but realized that Christiansen was going straight for the weakness in their defense when he began with a question about oaths. He and Walt had spent the whole day rehearsing answers to the kind of questions that were about to come. He only hoped that Walt remembered and could execute their plan.

  “How long have you been with the DPS?”

  “Fourteen years. I was a deputy sheriff in Wharton after I was discharged from the army and then joined the DPS as a trooper.”

  Christiansen folded his hands in front of him and took off his glasses as he stared at Walt. “Do you remember taking an oath as a trooper back then?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you remember the words, ‘preserve, protect and defend’ in that oath?”

  “I do, Mr. Christiansen.”

  “What were you swearing to preserve, protect and defend?”

  “The Constitution of the United States and the State of Texas?”

  Christiansen
raised his voice. “Keep going, Sergeant.”

  Walt hesitated and looked at Jack. “And the laws of this state.”

  “In fact, you swore to protect and defend the people of this state, didn’t you, Sergeant?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Not suppose. You knew that was part of your oath as a state trooper, didn’t you?”

  Walt looked down at the table and murmured, “That’s correct.”

  “You continue to be a DPS officer even though you are now protecting the governor?”

  Walt hesitated and took another sip of water while he thought about his answer. “That’s correct, sir.”

  Christiansen smiled at the answer. “You became part of the governor’s protective detail when?”

  Walt paused to think, staring up at the ceiling. “It’ll be ten years next month.”

  “What are your duties now?”

  “Protect the governor at all costs.”

  Jack didn’t like the way that answer came out.

  “And, sir, I have to be willing to take a bullet for him. I wish I had been the one shot that day.”

  Christiansen thought about that last answer. “What did you do when the governor was shot?”

  Jack could see that his client was blinking his eyes and knew that he was flashing back. “I think we need to take a break. With so many people in this RV, it’s getting stuffy. Let’s take five. Walt, step outside with me.”

  They walked across the parking lot and leaned against Jack’s pickup, out of hearing from others who also stepped out to stretch their legs. “Did you take your meds?”

  Walt nodded.

  “I saw you were having a flashback. Can you stay in the present and answer the questions about that night? I’ll interrupt again if I have to.”

  Walt took a deep breath. “Yeah, let’s get this son of a bitch over. I’ll be okay.” They returned to the RV. Jack had the court reporter read back the question.

  “We followed procedures to the letter. The detail went into crisis mode. We pulled the governor off the stage. We also hustled Petal, I mean Mrs. Lardner, off the stage and out to the limo. Well, it’s a Suburban, but it’s still called a limo.”

  “And you ignored that oath you took fourteen years ago to protect the public, didn’t you?”

  Walt gazed into the camera without answering.

  “Didn’t you, Sergeant Frazier, you and the rest of the detail.” Christiansen was raising his voice. His face was turning red. “You know that about eight seconds elapsed before the second round of shots that killed Edward Hale and wounded Kevin O’Connell, don’t you?”

  Jack slapped his palm on the table. “Dammit, Cecil, quit shouting at my client and asking multiple questions, or we’ll stop this deposition right now.”

  “Don’t like how this is going, do you, Jack? I’ll break up my questions. When the first shot was fired and the governor went down, you made no effort to protect the other people on the stage or, for that matter, in the audience?”

  “One of our men took a shot at that woman from the back.”

  “And then he bailed and ran for the limo, too.”

  “Sir, we had to get the governor to the hospital as quick as we could. If we hadn’t, he almost certainly would have died.”

  “How many men does it take to drive that limo?”

  “One.”

  “And he was already outside by the car, wasn’t he?”

  “Sir, it took two of us to pull the governor off the stage and out to the limo and one for Mrs. Lardner.”

  “Come on, Sergeant, you’re a big man. You could have dragged him out to the car, couldn’t you? That would have left one of your men to fire at the assassin, maybe keep her head down long enough for the others to get off the stage. You also could have told the man at the back to stay, right? You know that Edward Hale was following right behind you as you left the stage. Five more seconds and he would have been out of the line of fire. Five seconds, Sergeant Frazier.”

  “I can’t speculate, sir.”

  “Fact is, you didn’t think about anything other than protecting the governor.”

  Walt’s voice got stronger. “Mr. Christiansen, there were three Fort Worth cops on the balcony who could have been doing just what you said. They definitely had the high ground.”

  “Sergeant, I don’t want to talk about the Fort Worth police today. I’ll depose them and the security company later,” Christiansen sneered. “The fact is that Edward Hale might still be alive if protecting the public had even crossed your mind.”

  “I can’t answer that, sir. My team and I did the best we could.”

  Christiansen motioned to his associate and abruptly rose. “No more questions. I’m out of here.”

  47

  Jack and Walt hardly spoke on the way back to Jack’s house. They said their good-byes in the driveway, and Walt headed back to Austin. Both knew that it had not gone well.

  Jack entered the house and found Colby in the living room, studying some documents. “How’d it go?” she asked after she stood and kissed Jack.

  Jack shook his head. “Not good. Cecil knew exactly what our weak point was and blew it wide open in less than an hour. Walt had to fight off his PTSD. It didn’t go well. It’s only going to get worse when he questions the rest of the detail.”

  “But Walt saved the governor’s life. That was his job.”

  Jack opened a bottle of water and sat across from Colby. “Yes and no. Walt and I talked about this at the start. He took an oath to protect the public. That oath didn’t go away when he became a part of the governor’s detail. It’s an impossible conflict of interest.”

  “Wait a minute. Doesn’t the Secret Service have that exact same conflict when someone attacks the president?”

  “Issue hasn’t really come up. Certainly not when Kennedy was assassinated or when Reagan was shot. And I don’t think that the Secret Service has any duty to the public. On top of that, the president travels with a whole army of agents. The governor travels with only four or five. We’re already going to be making law with these Dark PACs. Now it looks like the court is going to have to decide the role of the detail when the governor and the public are both in danger. I can handle it, but I’m worried about Walt. He’s having flashbacks again. He’s drinking way too much. I just hope he’s sober when he’s driving. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a flask stashed in his glove compartment.”

  “Do we need to talk him into some counseling?”

  Jack shook his head. “I’m trying to avoid that. His medical records could be discovered. I certainly could spin them so he looks like the war hero he was, but Christiansen would be arguing that the DPS never should have hired him and his flashback impaired his judgment that night. Now, what do you have spread all over the couch?”

  “I was walking by your desk and saw the inventory of what the DPS collected at the compound. I hope you don’t mind if I looked at it.”

  “Of course not. I’m happy to have another set of eyes and your smarts studying the evidence. You find anything interesting?”

  “Maybe. You remember I had questions about the computers when we had coffee with Joe after visiting Miriam. By the way, how is she?”

  “She woke up a couple of times. Said something about her father, and then drifted back to sleep. Dr. Reddy says that the fact that she is still waking up, if only for a couple of minutes, is hopeful. She’s not getting out of the hospital any time soon. That’s for sure.”

  “Well, that inventory has all of the evidence that might be related to computers on two pages. I looked them over and didn’t really know what I was reading. So, I emailed them to J.D. He says that there are parts of three computers, but the hard drive on one of them is missing. Well, it’s not actually the hard drive. It’s some thingamabob that fits in the hard drive that is the memory. It’s gone. Also, it’s small enough that it might have been missed by all of those boots on the ground stomping around the compound. I think that you and me and Walt, a
nd, particularly J.D. since he’s our in-house computer geek, need to take that beautiful drive to West Texas to do another search.”

  Jack remained silent while he went to the bar to retrieve another bottle of water. He turned and leaned against the bar. “Probably won’t find a damn thing, but worth a try, and it would be good to give Walt something to do. I’m worried about this lawsuit. We won a round with Judge Jamison and lost one with Walt’s deposition. Not a damn thing he could have done different. He was caught up in a situation he couldn’t control. So, let’s go for it. Only, we’ll have to wait a week. J.D. leaves for New York tomorrow for the NFL draft. He’s high enough up the list that they want him there on draft night. I need to give him a call and wish him well. Hold on.”

  “Hey, Dad. I was about to call you.”

  “I’ve got you on the speaker.”

  “Hey, big guy,” Colby said. “We’ve got our fingers crossed for you on Saturday night. Enjoy yourself. You’ve worked hard to get to this point.”

  “I join in those sentiments,” Jack said. “And, when you get back we’re going to take a little drive out to West Texas for a look around. Colby told me you think there’s a piece of the puzzle missing.”

  “Yeah, it may be blown all to hell or they might have missed it because it’s small. I’ll be available on Monday. Just let me know. And, expect a call from me on Saturday night.”

  48

  J.D.’s call came early on Friday night, and it had nothing to do with the draft. He was staying at the Grand Hyatt, just a few blocks from Radio City Music Hall where the draft was to take place. He had been invited to dinner by Jerry Jones and had declined the offer to ride in his limo back to the hotel, saying that he would enjoy the short walk and fresh air. He was a block from the hotel when he saw two men cross the street while he waited for a light to change. They seemed familiar but he could not place them as they stood behind him. When the light turned green, it hit him. They were the same two men who had been in the courtroom and the parking lot. Stepping to the curb on the other side, he considered what to do. The street was surprisingly empty, particularly for a city that never sleeps. He thought about just walking to the hotel entrance a half a block away, then changed his mind.