by Webb Hubbell
“Beth and Micki, you need to see Mary and Ruth this afternoon. I know you think it’s too soon, but we have no choice. We have to be prepared to present our case as early as tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning?” Micki exclaimed.
“It’s the worst possible case, but by now Logan, L&A, and the Senator are pressuring whoever they can to have those subpoenas quashed. They’ll probably try to get a judge to impose some kind of Order that will completely tie our hands, and with a friendly judge they’re likely to be successful.
The rest of us will spend today and tonight getting ready for whatever comes next. You and Beth are in charge of presenting whatever the girls know. Don’t forget that whoever might have already hired another sniper. Time works against us, not for us.”
I gave Stella some language to put up on the website which was bound to cause a stir. I also asked her to be vigilant for the FBI or the NSA trying to hack into our computers or listen in to our cell phones. I know I must have sounded paranoid, but then again when you stir up a hornet’s nest you’d better be ready for an angry reaction.
Everyone nodded soberly and went their separate ways. Maggie and I were left to finish the presentation we hoped to be able to give.
The call came just after six o’clock.
“You son-of-a-bitch, you have your meeting.” Peggy Fortson wasn’t usually so direct.
“Peggy, such language.” I opted for a nonchalant tone.
“What do you expect? You subpoena a U.S. Senator in front of the press. You subpoena and ask for mountains of records from one of the major defense contractors in the country. To top it off you subpoena Tina Lalas, interfering with our negotiations with Interpol. You know damn well Tina had nothing to do with the Hopper matter; she wasn’t even in the country. You’ve gone too far, Jack. You’ll get your meeting, but don’t expect it to be friendly or for the Attorney General to be cooperative. If I were you I’d bring some comfortable clothes. You just might find yourself locked up after tomorrow’s meeting.” Peggy was hot. I expect she’d had a rough day.
“May I ask who’ll be there?”
“Why not? You might as well know—The Attorney General, myself, plus a couple of members of his immediate staff. Constance Montgomery and the U.S. Attorney for the District, and Deputy Director of the FBI Felix Calhoun along with a couple of agents. I believe you know one of them, Travis Barry. Neither the Senator or Logan will be represented, despite their requests.”
“Who are you bringing?” A fair question.
“Maggie, Micki Lawrence, and myself. Oh, and Marshall Fitzgerald.”
“I’m not sure Judge Fitzgerald is appropriate. We both know he is a friend of the Attorney General, plus he is a critical witness.” She had a point, but I had one as well.
“Marshall is the closest thing Billy has to a family member right now. He respects the Attorney General too much to expect special treatment in any way. Check with the AG and Constance—I’m sure they won’t mind.” It was worth a shot. “What time?”
“Ten o’clock,” she responded.
“We’ll be there, with all the documents. No need for that warrant now.”
Peggy paused, sounding confused. “What warrant?”
So the FBI hadn’t told the AG or Peggy about this afternoon’s attempted raid. Interesting.
“Sorry, I’ve got two cases going and just got confused.” Lame, lame, lame, but I couldn’t think of anything else on the spur of the moment. Fortunately, she let it go.
“Don’t expect a welcome mat, Jack. You’ve stepped on too many toes this time.”
“Don’t worry. My skin is pretty thick.”
I called Marshall and Micki to tell them about the conversation. We agreed to meet at eight in the morning at the Hay-Adams to go over any last minute issues. Micki was clearly nervous about her prospects with Ruth and Mary on such short notice. Marshall wanted to know if Anna could come, and I reminded him that might tip our hand. He saw my point immediately and said he’d suggest an outing to the Smithsonian.
Maggie and I worked late into the night, and I felt as prepared as I could be considering I had no idea what to expect or what Micki’s interview with Ruth and Mary might uncover.
We turned off the lights, and I took a cab back to Barker’s. Hopefully I wouldn’t be sleeping in DC’s jail tomorrow night. I’d spent a night in jail once before, hadn’t been much fun.
* * *
WEDNESDAY
* * *
May 4, 2016
67
WE ALL ARRIVED at the Hay-Adams promptly at eight. No jokes this morning; we were all business, all clearly nervous. Micki looked terrific in khaki pants, a cream silk blouse and a black linen blazer. Marshall’s character was obvious, even without his judge’s robes. Micki murmured that Beth had returned to be with Ruth and Mary. It must have been a difficult evening.
Micki cleared her throat. “I’m ready to present what happened to these two young women. We don’t have time now to go through their story, but trust me, Billy Hopper did not murder Nadia.”
Exactly what I needed to hear. I knew that a seasoned prosecutor would have a field day cross-examining two working girls, but we weren’t in court today. Our audience was one.
All three of us knew our roles, so there wasn’t much else to say. Our audience was the Attorney General. We were asking him to interfere with the prosecution of a crime, to meddle in a local case against the will of the US Attorney, and to disregard the demands and influence of a Senator and a well-known defense contractor. The AG would be a tough sell, but I was more worried by Constance Montgomery. She was no slouch, and he would be guided by her position.
We cleared security at main Justice quite easily. The Attorney General’s office is on the fifth floor of a magnificent WPA building. A huge table that seats at least thirty people comfortably dominates his conference room. At the far end is a wood-burning fireplace. When Robert Kennedy was Attorney General he used the conference room as his office. He was a family man to the core, and the large oriental carpet still reveals reminders of the exuberance of his children and his dogs. The current Attorney General prefers a smaller office and uses the room for meetings.
His executive assistant invited us to sit at the table. We were left to twiddle our thumbs for several minutes before an army of people filed into the room. The AG took his place at the head of the table. On his left were Peggy, Constance, the U.S. Attorney, and Deputy Director Calhoun. Staff, lots of staff, sat in chairs that lined the walls. I recognized agent Barry. There were no offers of coffee, no casual conversation. You could have cut the air with a knife. I squeezed Micki’s hand quickly, a silent reassurance.
Finally, the Attorney General fluffed up some papers and looked at Micki.
“You must be Ms. Lawrence. I’m sorry to have met you under these circumstances.” She remained silent, not betraying even a hint of reaction. He turned to me.
“Mr. Patterson, you asked for this meeting, and I will give you ample opportunity to speak. However, I’d prefer to dispatch this issue quickly, so let me tell you what I think.”
I nodded.
“I’m aware that when a lawyer is faced with an impossible case to defend he is tempted to use various tactics to distract and obfuscate. My lawyers face these tactics all the time, and we are perfectly capable of dealing with them. We go into court and seek gag orders, have frivolous subpoenas quashed, prevent irrelevant testimony from being presented, and on rare occasions seek sanctions against the worst abusers of the system. We do this all the time.
“But you take the cake. You have issued subpoenas to a respected U.S. Senator, one of this country’s primary defense contractors, and a notorious assassin, thereby interfering with ongoing extradition negotiations. I’d like to know why I shouldn’t bring the entire force of the Department of Justice down on your ass. What in the hell do you have to say for yourself?”
If he was trying to make me mad, he’d succeeded. I wanted nothing more
than to gather my papers and my partners and walk out in a huff. I looked at Maggie, who knew me well. She smiled and mouthed the word “no.”
I relaxed a little and tried to address the big dog in an even tone.
“Thank you. Let me first address the subpoena to Tina Lalas. You surely know that someone hired her to kill me and that she doesn’t work of her own volition or for free. I don’t know for sure who hired her, but I believe she was hired to kill me because I have discovered not only who did kill the woman at the Mayflower, but why. You may threaten me with sanctions and the weight of the justice department, but any lawyer worth his salt isn’t going to let a key witness leave the country without doing everything possible to find out who ordered that hit.” I needed to slow down.
“Now. Ms. Fortson rightfully told me Tina wasn’t in the country when the young woman was murdered in Billy Hopper’s hotel room. But that doesn’t mean that Tina’s employer didn’t hire someone else to kill the woman at the Mayflower. And I think I have a right to ask Tina who ordered the hit on me.”
“She’s taking the fifth. She’s not going to talk to you, Jack.” Peggy interrupted.
“You’re probably right, but I’m entitled to discover that, am I not?” I asked.
“To what end?” Constance spoke. “She didn’t murder the woman, Billy Hopper did.”
I looked at the Attorney General and said, “May I explain to Ms. Montgomery why she’s wrong.”
“Go ahead, it’s your hole you’re digging.”
“Constance, I’m not sure I can convince you that you’re wrong. You’ve put a lot of effort into this case. You’re invested in what seems to be obvious. But let me try. First, the murder weapon was a room service steak knife, yet Billy never ordered room service. He checked in, changed clothes for the banquet, and left only to return late that night.”
“He could have gotten the knife from anywhere. An empty tray in the hall, for instance,” she responded.
“True, but that indicates some kind of premeditation, not the crime of passion you have portrayed to the media and the Court. What was it your office told the press?—‘He was drunk, couldn’t perform, and took it out on the girl.’”
“Not necessarily. He could have been frustrated—left his room to get a knife, and then stabbed her to death. Or a knife could have been left over from a previous guest.” We seemed to be the only people in this room.
“True, but why didn’t she scream or try to escape. Her clothes were neatly folded in the corner. Does that indicate a struggle to you?”
“He smothered her with a pillow. That’s what the medical examiner concluded. He smothered her, left the room, got a knife, and returned to the room to stab her to death. Sorry, Jack.”
“Where’d the pillow come from?” I asked.
“What do you mean? It’s a hotel pillow.”
“Check the housekeeping record and the inventory of the room after the murder. There’s an extra pillow in Billy’s room. Do you think he left the room to find a spare pillow like the knife?”
“Bullshit. An extra pillow was probably left in the room from the night before. Let me ask you what kind of animal murders a woman and then goes to sleep in her blood. Your client, that’s who.” Constance was getting worked up, and I wasn’t making any progress. The attorney general stepped in.
“Stop. This kind of crap isn’t getting us anywhere. Save it for the courtroom.”
I glanced at Micki, and she took over smoothly.
“You’re right, except for one thing. Billy Hopper couldn’t have murdered anyone that night. We have two witnesses who have sworn under oath to that effect.”
I saw just a trace of concern cross Constance’s brow. “What witnesses? Who?”
“For purposes of this discussion I will call them Mary and Ruth. They attended the NFL banquet with Billy Hopper, sat at his table and, along with another girl named Ginger helped Billy get back to the hotel and into his room.”
Agent Barry rose, couldn’t help himself. “Those two women have been missing for weeks. Where are they? If you’re hiding them somewhere you need to turn them over to us immediately.”
Micki ignored him, continuing to address the AG.
“After they heard about the incident at the Mayflower, the three girls who were involved left town with their bodyguard. The bodies of Ginger and her bodyguard were found over a week ago in a storm drain in Cleveland, Ohio. Their throats had been cut. That event was posted on a website called “Free Billy,” and the story was carried on Fox News. The other girls fled Cleveland and contacted us looking for a safe haven. They are currently under our protection, and that’s where they will remain for the time being.”
Calhoun mouthed a warning, but Barry couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“Those girls may be in danger. You need to turn them over to the FBI.”
Micki turned to him and said coldly, “Not a chance. If you were so concerned about their safety, Agent Barry, how come as of this morning the Cleveland Police Chief says not a single member of the FBI has made contact with his office. A crucial witness to a murder investigation goes missing, turns up dead in Cleveland, and the FBI doesn’t even make a phone call? These women are definitely in danger. You really think I’m going to turn them over to you?”
Micki had made her point; it was time to move on. She turned back to the Attorney General.
“Both Mary and Ruth will say that all three girls were hired for the evening to sit with Billy and the four men from Logan Aerospace at the NFL Honors banquet. They had been instructed by their bodyguard, or pimp, if you prefer, to make sure Billy was the one who ordered the drinks, even though he nursed a single beer for the entire evening. Toward the end of the banquet the now dead girl slipped a knockout drug into Billy’s beer. When he could no longer stand, they helped him get back to the Mayflower and into his room.”
Constance spoke up. “A convenient story, but totally inconsistent with what the four men say happened that evening.” She shouldn’t sound so smug.
“Please let me finish. Both girls will say they helped Billy to his room and into his bed. By then he was now completely out of it. It was easy to remove his clothes and leave him alone and totally naked, just as they had been instructed. On the way out they handed the keycard to Billy’s room to a man who was waiting outside the door with a camera in hand. They assumed he was going to take pictures of Billy for blackmail purposes.”
Constance looked at the attorney general. “I don’t believe this cock and bull story for a minute. First, we have no idea who these girls are. Until they have been interviewed their story doesn’t pass any credibility test. Second, what about this mystery cameraman? Is there any proof of his existence—any pictures, any evidence there was another man in the room? Finally, if you believe their story, what prevented Billy from waking up, meeting the deceased later on, and then murdering her? How does Ms. Lawrence explain the semen all over the bed? I don’t buy these two girls’ stories no matter how credible they seem to Ms. Lawrence. They’re probably still on the make, looking for their fifteen minutes of fame.”
I could tell Micki was pissed, and was relieved that she kept her poise. She glanced at the AG, who merely nodded.
“I’m not sure exactly which ‘credibility test’ the prosecutor has mind—is there a standardized form? If so, I don’t think it will present much of a problem for either Ruth or Mary. As to the presence of the cameraman, she is correct—you will find no evidence of his presence in the room because the room was wiped clean of prints. The only prints in the entire room are Billy’s, and then only in places where he likely went when he woke up. No prints from housekeeping, no prints from the deceased, even though her clothes were stacked neatly in a corner of the room. Not a single print from anyone else, including the three girls who helped him into the room.
“As to the semen, both Mary and Ruth say they were instructed to masturbate Billy once he was completely unconscious. In case you’re curious, I have checked wit
h three physicians and, yes, that can easily be done. Mary and Ruth will describe how it was done in minute detail if you wish.”
Barry jumped up gleefully. “See, they’re nothing but whores. Ha! Some credible witnesses.”
Constance and everyone else turned to stare, this time in distaste, giving Micki a chance to continue.
“I prefer to call them victims, Agent Barry, but, yes, they are professional women. Since you interviewed each of the four employees of Logan Aerospace, you probably know that true to their instructions the three girls returned to the Mandarin, rejoined the four men at the bar, and after several more drinks went upstairs with the men for a night of sex. Or maybe they didn’t tell you that part of their story. These four men may have a few credibility issues of their own, as I believe they all have wives and young children.”
I could tell the Attorney General had heard enough about sex; Micki sensed it as well. She finished quickly.
“We have unearthed many more holes in the prosecutor’s case. For example, the extra pillow in the room matches exactly a pillow missing from the room next door. The guest staying in the room next door ordered steak from room service. The staff will testify that the previous guest left no steak knife in Billy’s room. Finally, Ms. Montgomery has suggested that Billy could have woken up, met the deceased elsewhere, perhaps the bar, and later murdered her. I’d like to point out that the medical examiner’s time of death is pegged at only thirty minutes after he arrived at his room. Where was she in the brief period of time between when Mary and Ruth left Billy all alone unconscious and when she was dead? Billy certainly couldn’t have leapt up from his drunken or drugged state and gone down to the bar to get her.”
Constance wasn’t going to give up easily.
“Mr. Attorney General, Mr. Patterson and Ms. Lawrence certainly have pointed out some holes in our case that are worth examining, and I assure you that I will be diligent in determining the credibility of their newly-found witnesses as soon as they are made available. But these are matters for our office. There is no need for you to step in at this point. We are here because Mr. Patterson has gone off the deep end, issuing subpoenas that compel testimony and documents from persons who have no relevance to the Hopper case.”
