by Shenda Paul
"He didn't have much to say, but he did ask to be sent the executive financial pack each month."
"Would you explain what this pack is, please?"
"It comprises the profit and loss, balance sheet, cash flow statements and a management overview and status report. The pack was forwarded to Senator Wade and Mr. Cordi by the end of the second week of each month."
I illuminate the first page of the report mentioned. "Your Honor, Ladies, and Gentlemen, this document is cataloged as Exhibit Two-A. It’s Fidelity Properties’ profit and loss report for April, two thousand and thirteen.
"It’s essentially an account of income and expenditure. Fidelity’s income, as you can see, is reported as originating from three areas. Leasing and Rentals, which is self-explanatory and Asset Sales, also readily understood, are expected revenue streams from an organization that lists itself as being in the business of commercial property development.
"Income reported in the third category, however, is not as easily identifiable. It’s tabled simply as Sigma. You will also note from this column here," I highlight the area, "that Sigma accounts for thirty-seven percent of the company’s annual revenue."
"Mr. Ryan," I turn to face the witness stand. "Who or what is Sigma?"
"It’s a company owned by Fidelity," he says.
"What exactly is Sigma's business?"
"It owns and operates nightclubs."
"Is that not a rather unusual line of business for a property development company?"
"I don’t know much about its origins. Sigma was part of Fidelity’s business portfolio when I joined the company."
"Did you ever question Mr. Cordi about it?"
"I did when I started because it’s not a natural business fit, as you’ve said. He told me he has a personal interest in the entertainment field, and that I didn’t have to worry about Sigma because it had its own management structure. The executives reported to him. My only responsibility, he said, was to ensure that Sigma’s top-line financial results, which I’d be sent each month, were accurately reported in Fidelity’s accounts and then reinvested wisely in our property development projects."
"Did you, at any time, visit those nightclubs yourself?"
"I did on two occasions. At my request, Mr. Cordi arranged for the manager of Liaison to take me on a tour."
"When was that?"
"Soon after I started; around three years ago."
"Do you remember the name of the manager?"
"Yes. It was Mick O’Flaherty."
"And you saw or found nothing untoward during your tour?"
"No Sir. They simply looked like any other club, not that I've visited a lot," he quickly adds.
"You say the defendant asked to be sent the monthly financial pack. How many of these reports did he receive?"
"The first report Senator Wade received was for April as he left that meeting with a copy."
"So the defendant has had an opportunity to view the reports in question approximately thirteen times until the time of his arrest?"
"That would be correct."
"Has the defendant, having received thirteen reports, ever questioned you about Sigma?"
"No, he hasn’t."
"Is there any chance he may have asked someone else in the company?"
"Not to my knowledge. In that first meeting, Mr. Cordi advised the senator to contact me directly with any questions he may have, and I handed him my business card before he left."
I thank him before announcing that I have no further questions.
"Did Mr. Cordi say why he chose to sell part of his business to Senator Wade?" Tom asks.
"He said the senator comes from a very well respected family, and that he would become a man of great influence nationally, perhaps even internationally, one day. He said the company would benefit in ways we could only dream of when that happened."
"Mr. Ryan, you say you only met my client once. Is that correct?"
"Yes, as I've said, I met Senator Wade at the one executive meeting."
"That's right, so you did." Tom smiles pleasantly, but I'm not fooled. I know exactly where his question is leading; I expected him to counter my assertion that Justin failed to question Sigma’s source of income.
"Then how can you be certain that he did not ask another executive or even Mr. Cordi about Sigma’s income? Could my client have questioned someone else?" he presses.
"I suppose so, but Mr. Cordi told Senator Wade …"
"Yes or no, Mr. Ryan."
"Yes."
"Did Mr. Cordi ever instruct you not to disclose certain information to my client?"
"No, he…"
"I suggest, Mr. Ryan, that your boss, Mr. Cordi, told you to withhold information from my client, information, specifically, relating to Sigma…"
"Objection Your Honor! Badgering," I interject.
"Sustained," Judge Bolton rules. Tom accepts the ruling without question, but I can tell he’s satisfied with the seed of doubt he believes he’s planted.
"Mr. Ryan, did Mr. Cordi, at any stage, tell you or, to your knowledge, any other executive to withhold company information from the defendant?" I ask.
"No sir."
"Did he ever ask you to withhold information from anyone other than the defendant?"
"He specifically instructed us not to reveal anything about Sigma to either of his brothers or anyone known to work for them. Later, he also asked that we not inform his wife."
"So it would be fair to say that there were certain people Mr. Cordi expressly wanted to withhold information from?"
"Yes, it would."
"And that group definitely did not include the defendant?"
"It did not."
"Thank you, Mr. Ryan. No further questions, Your Honor."
Judge Bolton announces lunch recess, and Jodi, Jon and I decide to eat at a nearby restaurant. Jon returns to work after lunch. As we near the courthouse, Jodi and I both spot the gathered media and, diverting our course, we make it to the side entrance without being spotted. The defense group is not as lucky. Tom either isn’t aware of the other entrance or has deliberately sought to engage the media. I watch from the lobby as eager reporters surge forward to accost Justin and his female companion. He ignores them and determinedly continues on his path to the courthouse steps, the female clutching his arm while his mother and cousin, Joshua, bring up the rear. Tom stops to address the media.
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Natasha Perkins calmly waits as Tom fastens his jacket. I completed my direct only moments ago, during which she related the terms of her employment at Liaison, her first meeting with Justin, their subsequent sexual trysts, and how their association changed with the arrival of Angelique Bain. To her credit, she managed not to let her animosity toward either her successor or Justin show.
"Ms. Perkins, you claim that you and my client had sexual relations during his visits to Liaison, is that correct?" Tom asks his opening question.
"I've already said that."
"Yes or no, Ms. Perkins?"
"Yes," she says.
"Did my client ever pay you for your services?"
"No, but I was paid to sleep with him."
"But my client did not pay you, did he?"
"He didn’t pay me directly."
"Yes or no, Ms. Perkins; did my client pay you for sex?"
"No."
"Did you develop feelings for my client?"
'What do you mean?" she asks icily.
"Did you develop feelings of affection for my client? It’s a relatively simple question, Ms. Perkins."
"I liked him, but I wasn’t in love with him if that’s what you mean."
"You have testified that, at Mr. Wade’s request, you discontinued your association with Mr. Clarke, a long-term client of yours. Why would you do that?"
"Justin’s a very powerful and attr
active man; every girl at the club wanted to sleep with him, and I wanted to hold his interest. That’s why I stopped seeing John."
"So you harbor no ill-feeling toward my client for asking you to end your association with a regular client, only to later end his with you?"
"No, I don't," she replies, an edge to her voice.
"The truth is, Ms. Perkins, that you are here to seek revenge. You felt humiliated by my client’s rejection. You wanted to make him pay…."
"Objection Your Honor, badgering," I call out.
"Sustained," Judge Bolton responds, but Tom’s undaunted, understandably satisfied at having questioned her motives for testifying.
"We’ve established that my client hadn’t ever paid you for sex. For him, your trysts could simply have been two consenting adults engaging in sex, could they not? He may have been unaware that he was engaging in prostitution, could he not?"
"Every member and employee of Liaison knew exactly what the club was."
"Why could my client not have been the exception?"
"Every member I've spoken with or agreed to have sex with knew. I mean, you knew when you propositioned me for sex at the club."
Court erupts. Tom’s face turns livid, and it takes a moment for him to control his expression. Judge Bolton, meanwhile, bangs his gavel loudly for a second time, finally quietening the room.
"The witness’ last statement will be struck from the record. The jury will disregard it." He turns, then, to addresses Natasha.
"Ms. Perkins, you will answer only those questions asked, is that clear?" he admonishes her.
"I apologize, Your Honor," she replies meekly, and I fight to hide my smile at her affected contrition.
"No further questions, Your Honor," Tom announces when Judge Bolton gives him a questioning look. He moves stiffly to his table, his anger barely contained.
I forego the opportunity to redirect. There’s no need; what’s said can’t be unsaid. Natasha has successfully negated Tom’s attempt to bring her testimony into question and, in the process, has well and truly bested him.
She leaves the stand, and I table her and Amy Sanders’ employment contracts before calling John Clarke. He unashamedly admits to having been a member of Liaison and elaborates on how difficult it was to gain membership. He waited for nearly eighteen months, he reveals, before relating how he had to sign a non-disclosure agreement. The annual membership fee, he says, was fifty-five thousand dollars. This information draws gasps from the public gallery, and Judge Bolton is forced to use his gavel once more.
The fee included the use of the private rooms and drinks in the members' lounge. Dining at the club attracted separate charges, and an additional charge of one thousand dollars a night applied for the company of an escort, John adds when I prompt.
"What exactly do you mean by the company of an escort," I ask
"Having sex," he instantly responds. "Some of the girls were open to just about anything, you know like…"
"I think we get the gist, Mr. Clarke, thank you," I interject before he becomes too graphic. He’s an unashamed exhibitionist, I’ve realized, and has enjoyed shocking the court. His testimony, however, has proven conclusive. If the jury had held even a modicum of doubt about Liaison’s prostitution business and Justin’s knowledge, these last two witnesses have dispelled it.
Tom, unsurprisingly, declines to cross-examine, and court is adjourned for the day.
I spend the rest of the day catching up on administrative tasks and preparing for the Cordi trials. By eight o’clock that night, I feel mentally exhausted and decide to leave. First trial days are normally long and tiring, but this one seems to have been interminably so, despite it having ended very successfully for us.
The other side, on the other hand, will be thinking that their day ended disastrously. I can’t help feeling a pang of regret for Justin. Guilty or not, a defendant deserves the best defense, and his hadn’t served him well today. Tom must, surely, have anticipated the possibility of his membership of Liaison being revealed. Whether through naiveté or hubris, he’s cost his client and friend as well as his own reputation today.
Chapter Sixteen
"Senator Justin Wade was seen arriving for the first day of his trial with long-time family friend and girlfriend, Cynthia Buchanan…" The newscaster’s voice pulls me from my languorous state on the sofa. Fully awake now, I turn up the volume as she continues.
"Ms. Buchanan, who clung tightly to the senator’s hand, didn't appear troubled by the fact that he’s facing several prostitution-related charges. The pair avoided media questions, but Thomas Martin, attorney for the senator, proclaimed his client's innocence. When asked about the couple’s on again, off again relationship, Mr. Martin appeared coy, saying, and I quote, 'Senator Wade has always had deep feelings for Ms. Buchanan. They are well matched and have been great friends for a long time; they’re still friends, much more than friends’.
I snort disdainfully. The Buchannan family has a political history as impressive as the Wades’. Cynthia’s been in love with and pursuing Justin since they were teenagers. He dated her for a short time, and she visited campus frequently during his years at Harvard. He later admitted that he was seeing her to appease his father. Joshua Wade thought marriage between their two families would be a great alliance and a boost to Justin’s political ambitions, and I can’t help wondering if their renewed relationship is part of a cynical public relations exercise on the part of the Wades. If that were the case, I should feel sympathy for Cynthia, but I don’t. She's an elitist who looks down her nose at anyone she views as less wealthy or well connected. She’d certainly made her contempt for me known when we met.
.
.
I wake the next morning feeling unreasonably apprehensive. Her choice forced my hand, I remind myself. I’d been telling myself this for weeks, yet I still delayed advising the court of her hostile status. I made up some flimsy excuse when Jodi expressed surprise at my unusual tardiness, but I later conceded the truth, if only to myself. I’d been delaying in the hope that she'd have a change of heart. She hasn’t of course; so two days ago, I finally notified court.
In court, Jodi and I are barely settled at our table when a pair of familiar arms encircles me from behind. "Thanks for coming," I say, turning to smile at Cait.
"No problem, big brother." She kisses my cheek before leaning forward to greet Jodi.
"Is he behaving himself?" she asks.
"Doesn't he always?" Jodi counters, grinning at me.
"I could tell you stories that would make your hair curl," Cait returns.
"Shut up," I playfully threaten. We’re still joking when Tom leads his group in. Court fills quickly after that, and as I glance around, an imposing man near the back catches my eye. He looks familiar, but Jodi draws my attention before I can ponder his identity further. "Five minutes," she warns. I give Cait’s hand another grateful squeeze and ready myself to question our first witness for the day.
Carmen Bonacci states her full name and her occupation as unemployed when I ask.
"Have you ever worked, Ms. Bonacci?"
"I worked as secretary to Joseph Cordi until Liaison closed down."
"How long did you work as Mr. Cordi’s secretary?"
"About seven years."
"You and he were more than employer and employee, were you not?"
"We were also lovers," she says quietly, but unwaveringly.
"You do know that Mr. Cordi is married, do you not, Ms. Bonacci?
"It's hard to miss when his wife’s always in the papers."
She’s unable to hide the trace of hurt in her response. I warned her that I’d ask because Tom will, almost certainly, use her affair with Joseph to his advantage. My strategy is to blunt his attack.
"Would you describe your relationship for the court please?"
"He loved me; at least, he said he did… and I love him, we
ll… loved him. We met at a restaurant where I worked as the manager, and he invited me out. I didn’t know he was married then. I fell in love with him and fell pregnant. I know people think he only hired me because of our relationship, but that's not true; I was good at my job."
"What exactly did your job entail?"
"I kept his diary, typed all of his correspondence and kept any records he needed. I generally assisted him in the running the nightclubs."
"Where did you work from?"
"Our offices are in the same building as Liaison."
"How far from his office was yours, Ms. Bonacci?"
"Our office suite has a reception area, Joseph’s office and another room he sometimes used for meetings. There was also a room for the printer, filing, and kitchenette. My workspace was in the reception area immediately outside his office."
"Close enough to hear what transpired there?"
"If the door was open, and Joseph rarely closed his door. He'd move to the other room or meet offsite if he wanted privacy."
"Your Honor, with the court's permission, we’d like to present two pieces of evidence," I ask before stepping into the well.
"This is Exhibit Four-A, a contract between the defendant and Mr. Joseph Cordi." I highlight the relevant information.
"Your eyes are not deceiving you, Ladies and Gentlemen. It is indeed what it appears." I pause dramatically. "This is a contract, whereby the defendant, Justin Wade, entered into an agreement with Joseph Cordi to secure the sexual services of a young woman, Angelique Bain, for a period of three years. This line here… as you can see… provides an option to renew for a further two years at the end of the initial contracted term.
"The price agreed upon for trading this young woman like a commodity is two hundred and fifty-two thousand dollars, with a further payment of one hundred and sixty-eight thousand dollars, should the defendant choose to renew.
"The agreement is signed and dated January sixteenth, two thousand and thirteen. And as you can see, it’s been witnessed by Ms. Carmen Bonacci, the witness currently occupying the stand."
I wait until satisfied that the pertinent points have been noted before changing the visual.
