“Yes, Your Honor.” Brenda Gadd tried to put on a strong front. “After the morning’s testimony, I sent several agents out to talk to Brea Krane and her attorney. There were serious questions after yesterday’s testimony regarding how that trust agreement had been disclosed, why it had been delayed until the end of trial, and why nobody informed me of its existence. As you know, Your Honor, I maintain that it is a fake.” Brenda Gadd clenched her jaw.
“I know what you believe, Ms. Gadd, but that is not the critical issue at the moment.” Judge Husk looked at Brenda Gadd with a certain amount of pity. “Please go on.”
“Well a confrontation occurred when one of our agents arrived at Brea Krane’s condominium. A shot had been fired. The attorney was dead when our agent entered the premises. More shots were exchanged, and when the episode concluded, the building manager had been wounded by a stray bullet and Brea Krane and her brother, Brent, were dead.”
Judge Husk rubbed his chin, thinking. He obviously had opinions, but he kept them to himself.
Gadd continued. “And so, needless to say, our investigation was halted and we have been unable to fully develop a rebuttal argument.”
“You could call the investigator or agent. He could testify as to what he saw. He could testify related to the wire transfers and your belief that the document is a fake.” Judge Husk made the suggestion half-heartedly. He knew there was little to be gained. In fact, telling the jury that there were three people now dead would only bolster the defendant’s theory. Michael Collins and his attorney were arguing that Brea Krane and her brother were trying to extort him, pressure him into giving them control of their father’s trust. The fact that they both met such a violent end suggested that this theory was true.
“I’d rather just make the argument in closing, Your Honor.” Gadd looked at Quentin. “But we all know this stinks, and I will investigate it. There has been a fraud committed upon this court.”
Quentin looked at the judge. “I disagree,” he said softly. “The questions aren’t ever going to be answered, but as an officer of the court, I swear that I simply listened to my client, built my defense, and argued the evidence that I had. Keep in mind that the trust agreement didn’t come from one of my witnesses. It came from the government. It was Brenda Gadd who sent it to me after her agents reviewed it.”
Judge Husk raised his hand.
“I think I’ve heard enough.” He took a breath. “You can save it. The trial will continue.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY SEVEN
Michael Collins listened to Brenda Gadd’s closing argument with pity. He kept waiting for Brenda Gadd to do something amazing or brilliant. He kept waiting for her to magically repair the damage that the trust agreement had wrought upon the government’s case against him.
But nothing came.
Her Mother Hubbard smile was gone. The veneer of folksy wit had worn away. Instead of reframing her case in a new light, Brenda Gadd was sarcastic and condescending. She acted superior to everyone in the courtroom. Then she ended her closing argument with a bizarre warning to the jurors.
“Don’t be fooled by the smoke and mirrors,” Gadd pointed at Michael and Quentin. “Don’t be fooled by a fantastic story, when the truth is so clear.”
She sat down, and Judge Husk nodded toward Quentin.
It was the defendant’s turn, and Quentin Robinson approached the podium like a man who knew he had the winning lottery ticket.
“Remember when this trial started?” Quentin rocked to his toes, and then back again. A spring in his step. “Remember when you were all picked as jurors, and you were sworn in, and you sat right here in this courtroom, and Judge Husk told you that the attorneys would now present their opening statements?”
Quentin nodded, making eye contact with each member of the jury.
“I remember it. I was nervous. I dropped my paper on the floor. I looked pretty foolish.” Quentin put his hands on his hips. He allowed the jurors to remember that rocky start and laugh with him. It was as if they were all good friends now.
Quentin then stepped directly in front of the jury box. He looked down, as if collecting his thoughts, and then looked back up.
“I remember two other things about that day. First, I asked you all to keep an open mind. I asked you all to wait until all the evidence was in. In fact, that is also exactly what Judge Husk asked you to do, and you swore, under oath, to uphold his rules.”
Quentin paused, making sure everyone remembered the same thing. He wanted them all on the same page before moving forward. In that way, he was the exact opposite of Brenda Gadd. Quentin was not condescending. He didn’t act superior. He was a helper and a friend. He was gently guiding the jurors.
“The second thing that I remember was what Brenda Gadd said. The government told us that, and I’m quoting here, ‘the documents do not lie. The documents speak for themselves.’” Quentin nodded. “I agree.”
“The document is the trust agreement. It was signed by Joshua Krane and my client, Michael Collins. It authorized him to make investments and make charitable contributions, which he did. And it also required him to maintain confidentiality. Now you may not agree with the investments that my client made with part of the trust assets. You may also not agree with the charitable contribution, which went to the church where Michael Collins attended as a young man. But the plain language of the trust agreement gives Michael Collins “sole discretion” to make the decisions on behalf of the trust. Sole discretion means, simply, it’s his call. He can do what he thinks is best, despite Brea Krane or her brother’s opinion.”
Quentin took a step back and pointed at Brenda Gadd.
“She said the documents do not lie. She said the documents speak for themselves. And here we have the document that explains what Michael Collins did and gave him the legal authority to do it.”
Quentin put his hands on his hips.
“Agent Frank Vatch testified that Michael Collins was a thief. He said, essentially, that Michael Collins saw an opportunity to get rich and took it, but the documents do not lie. There’s no evidence that Michael Collins took all the money and spent it on himself. Most of it still remains in the accounts frozen by the government. What is missing are the investments and charitable contributions that Michael Collins had the complete authority to make. And if you look at the very bottom of the agreement, which is in evidence and you can review during your deliberations, it allowed Michael Collins to pay himself a reasonable amount for his services, which he did. He used trust assets to lease a little hut and gave himself a little extra to live on.”
Quentin walked back to the podium.
“So, we now have a decision to make. The government must prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Michael Collins took money that he was not authorized to take and committed wire fraud. Now what is “beyond a reasonable doubt”? It is the standard of care and confidence that you would need to make one of the most important decisions in your life. The care and knowledge you would need to choose to have a major operation or get married.”
Quentin paused. He shook his head.
“It isn’t here. Given the existence of this trust agreement, I wouldn’t trust the government to have that operation or get married. There is just too much doubt. There is too much doubt, because we all know that Michael Collins didn’t take any money. He acted in accordance with his agreement with Joshua Krane.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY EIGHT
Michael Collins did not even get out of the building. Notice came down to the holding area in the basement of the courthouse just an hour after Quentin had finished his closing argument.
The jury had reached a verdict.
Michael followed the U.S. Marshals into the elevator. He watched the doors slide close in front of him, and Michael knew that this was going to be the last time that he’d see the inside of a jail. He knew that he wasn’t going to be coming back down that elevator or see the inside of Pod 3 at the MDC.
He knew that he was going to walk into the
courtroom, hear the verdict, and then walk out the main courtroom door and never come back.
A bell rang. The doors slid open and the Marshals led him toward his seat at counsel’s table. Michael shook hands with Quentin. Ordinarily, a quick verdict was good news for the prosecution, but not this time.
Michael glanced over his shoulder. He saw Andie and Kermit sitting in the back row. Michael almost didn’t recognize Kermit without his dreadlocks, but Kermit’s broad smile and bobbling head gave him away.
Judge Husk was led into the courtroom by his clerk, who helped him up a step and lowered the old man into his seat. The strength and spark that Judge Husk had shown throughout the trial was now gone. He looked tired.
“Bring the jury in.” Judge Husk instructed the court clerk. She obliged.
“Please rise.” Judge Husk raised his hand and everybody in the courtroom stood.
The jurors filed in and walked to their seats. The judge directed everybody to sit down, and then he cleared his throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are back on the record in the United States versus Michael Collins.” Judge Husk turned to look at the jurors. “Members of the jury, have you selected a foreperson?”
The jurors all nodded their heads, and then a man in the back row stood.
“I was selected the foreperson, Your Honor.”
“Good,” Judge Husk nodded. “And have you reached a verdict?”
“We have, Your Honor.”
“And what say you.”
The foreman turned away from Judge Husk and looked directly at Michael. For all Michael’s confidence, a moment of doubt crept in and he felt his heart stop as the verdict was pronounced.
“We, the members of the jury, find the Defendant, Michael John Collins, not guilty of all charges.”
“Very well,” Judge Husk smiled. “You may be seated.” He looked at Brenda Gadd. “Ms. Gadd would you like the jurors polled?”
“Yes.” Brenda Gadd stood. “I would ask that the jurors be individually polled, Your Honor.”
“Fine. Starting with you,” Judge Husk looked at a woman in the first row at the bottom left corner. “Will you rise and state your decision, and then we will go down the row.”
Each of the jurors stood and declared that Michael Collins was not guilty of all charges. Then Judge Husk gave them a final word of thanks and dismissed them from the court. Michael rose and watched them leave, and then he remained standing as Judge Husk released him from custody.
“You are free to go, Mr. Collins, and good luck to you.”
“Thank you, judge.” Michael turned and gave Quentin a hug, and soon they were joined by Kermit and Andie.
Michael took Andie into his arms. He squeezed her and kissed her.
“It’s over,” he said. “I don’t have to hide anymore.” Michael closed his eyes and thought about getting on a plane back to the Sunset Resort. He thought about Hut No. 7. He thought about drinking a beer on the Point, and then he thought about Brea Krane, her brother, and her lawyer.
He was found not guilty, but nobody would say that he was innocent.
CHAPTER EIGHTY NINE
Michael stared out at the blue Caribbean water. It never got old. He was never tired of sitting. The waves rolled past the rocky peninsula and onto the shore. The view was never boring.
He took a sip of Corona, and the sun cooked away the white paste that had developed after three months in custody.
“This place isn’t exactly handicap accessible.”
The sound of the voice sent a shiver up his spine. Michael Collins had to remind himself that he was safe. It was all in the past. “Francis,” he said, knowing that Agent Frank Vatch hated the name Francis. “Wondering when you would pay me a visit.”
“Just wanted to see where all the misfits and losers hang out.” Vatch rolled his wheelchair forward. He stopped at the edge where the stone path ended and the beach began. “I also figured you missed me.”
Michael Collins shook his head.
“Not so much.” He set down his beer on a small wooden table next to his chair. Michael then stood, picked up the chair, and brought it back to Vatch.
He set the chair down next to Vatch, and then sat.
“This is better. No wait …” Michael got back up and reclaimed his beer, then sat down again. He took a sip and nodded. “Now that’s better.”
The two enemies sat together side-by-side for about five minutes. Michael was in no hurry, and so he waited. Eventually, Vatch broke the silence.
“It’s nice here.” Vatch looked out at the water, and then took in a deep breath of air. “Except for the fact that you’re not in compliance with the Americans with Disabilities Act, but other than that, it’s nice here.”
“Yep,” Michael agreed, and he resisted the temptation to point out that the Americans With Disabilities Act doesn’t apply to resorts in Mexico.
“So this is home?” Vatch asked.
“I wish it was.” Michael took a sip of beer. “Took the civil lawyers about two minutes before I got served with all sorts of civil lawsuits and garnishments. Looks like they’re going to sell this place, divide the proceeds, keep me out.” Michael took another sip of beer. “But I’ve got some time. I’ll fight it.”
“Lawyers,” Vatch said it with such disgust that Michael could only laugh.
“Why are you here, Francis?”
“Got nothing better to do,” Vatch looked at Michael. “Took early retirement.”
“Congratulations,” Michael said. “I’ll buy you a beer whenever our server notices us.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Vatch rubbed the back of his neck. “It was time for me to go. The good guys and the bad guys weren’t so easy to distinguish anymore.”
“Well, I’m a bad guy, just in case you were confused.” Michael looked over at Frank Vatch. The two made eye contact, and Vatch’s eyes narrowed.
“I wasn’t ever confused about you,” he said. “But after five years, I was done. And after your trial, it seemed like I’d be sent to the mailroom for my foreseeable future.”
“So you’re not here on business,” Michael thought for a moment. “No point in harassing me anymore. All the trust assets are frozen. The resort is on the auction block. You’re on permanent sabbatical. The government is barred from prosecuting me, again.” Michael finished his beer. “So what gives?”
“Just wanted to see it.” Vatch looked out at blue water. He watched the seagulls chase each other. “I just wanted to see it. See if this was really worth it.”
“You’re welcome to stay,” Michael said as Vatch turned his wheelchair around and started back down the path.
“No thanks,” Vatch waved his hand. “I got what I was looking for.”
“Good,” Michael leaned back. He looked at the clear expanse of peaceful water. Then he looked at the wedding ring on his finger and closed his eyes. “That makes two of us.”
THANK YOU FOR READING “NO TIME TO HIDE”
Contact J.D. TRAFFORD at [email protected]
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