by Thomas Gatta
Bennett looked at Simon and said, “But you have even better witnesses. I was there that night. I know what happened. And I can tell the court that I shot those Afghans in self- defense. Case closed.”
The two men had walked into the parking garage and were headed toward where they’d parked that morning.
Simon stopped, turned to Bennett and said, “Sean, it’s not that simple. And I don’t want you on the witness stand. You don’t want to face the prosecutors. Besides, the SU will not want you testifying.”
Bennett looked at Simon and nodded. “Yeah, I know, the SU attorneys have already told me that I won’t be taking the stand. But I want to. I want the jury to see things my way. It’s important to me.”
Simon raised his eyebrows and said, “The SU attorneys told you that you won’t be taking the stand?”
“Yeah, that’s right. And they also assured me that the prosecution can’t win this on what they’ve got. I’ve just got to be patient and let things play out. As they said, national security will win out, and I’ll be okay.”
Simon shook his head, closed his eyes, and said, “Look, I know the SU lawyers have counseled you, but the charges are serious. This isn’t something you can take lightly. You hired me, and I’ll do my best to win the case for you, but you, and your SU lawyers, have to help me with information—provided to me legally, by the way. I hate surprises in court. And I can’t be blindsided in there and help you.”
“Nope. I’ve gone over everything with you. We went to the compound to get terrorists. We cleared the first floor. I and my Afghan team members went to the second floor and found nothing in the main room. I heard a noise in the back room. I was worried for my safety and that of my Afghan soldiers, so I proceeded into the back room. I found the terrorists and shot them all before they could harm me or my team members. That’s all there is to the story. We were raiding a terrorist compound and we did what we’d come to do.”
Simon sighed. “Sean, the investigations after the fact indicated the ‘terrorists’ were civilian schoolboys. And that you shot them in their beds. The prosecution is going to point out that non-combatants living on civilian property may not be intentionally targeted and that the schoolboys showed no signs of hostile intent or acts.”
“Yeah, yeah, I went through all that with the SU lawyers. Those kids were collateral damage. And I’m still convinced they were Taliban. At least some of them.” Sean grinned at Simon, “You know you’re not going to win this argument with me. Those guys deserved to die. No question in my mind. Your job is to convince the jury I was doing my job and doing it well. Hey, this was all part of the GWOT. That’s the Global War on Terrorism, if you don’t know.”
Simon sighed and shook his head. “Sean, maybe you need a different lawyer.”
“Nope. You’re the one I’ve got. I’ve invested too much time and a hell of a lot of money in you. Suck it up and do your thing. I know the SU lawyers will step in and help you if you fuck up too much.”
Bennett waved to Simon, clicked open the door to his truck, and jumped in. He was driving his dark green F150, not his ‘vette. The SU lawyers had told him to keep a low profile, and the truck was less noticeable than the red ‘vette. Besides, the ‘vette only got to come out for special drives and beautiful babes.
Bennett pulled out and stepped on the gas. He glanced back in the mirror at Simon. The lawyer was still standing where Bennett had left him. Simon looked like he’d swallowed a turd. He really was an honest wuss. Simon certainly wasn’t Sean’s first choice as an attorney. Nonetheless, the SU lawyers had steered him in Simon’s direction, saying he was good and cleared. And the SU legal eagles said they felt they could “help” Simon, if necessary. So, Sean had retained Simon as counsel. Now Sean hoped the SU attorneys knew their stuff and weren’t trying anything funny with him. If they were, he’d do a data dump, and no one would like that.
- 24 -
Mike was happy to be out of the courthouse. It’d been a tough week. He wasn’t used to sitting so long or listening so hard. His FEDEX job required him to be moving almost constantly and didn’t demand all that much of his mental focus. He could drive and deliver and think about his music and his band at the same time. This court stuff was kind of interesting, but he had to pay attention. He couldn’t be playing his music in his mind.
Being with the other jurors was different, too. They were quite a bunch. Over the last week, Mike had learned more than he’d really wanted to know about some of them.
Particularly Vivian. She was something. Vivian was in her forties with two kids in high school, but she worked hard to maintain her looks, which Mike had to admit were good. She was fit, carefully made up and manicured, and her hair was stylishly highlighted. Vivian always greeted everyone and tried to project the image of the perfect PTA lady. One day she’d even brought in red velvet cupcakes. They were good, but Vivian was a real witch. Mike had watched her dig for dirt on all the other jurors while harping on her own and her family’s accomplishments. Vivian had all the best credentials and contacts with important people. Plus her house was bigger, her husband richer and more powerful, and her kids smarter than anyone else’s. And gossip should have been her middle name. Vivian also was quick to describe her political views, which made those of Sarah Palin seem ultra-liberal. But Vivian’s real problem was she wanted to direct everyone and tell them what to think. Mike tried to avoid her, but that was hard to do when he was closeted with her in a jury room for much of the time he wasn’t in the courtroom.
One of the federal employees—Ted—wasn’t quite as bad as Vivian, but he came close. He worked for the Department of Homeland Security and watched the bags go round and round at Dulles Airport. Sometimes he even x-rayed them. But he made it sound like he was more important to the Government’s workings than paychecks every two weeks. And Ted, like Vivian, was critical of the other jurors and of “bleeding heart liberals.” Ted hated the President, so he and Vivian at least had something in common.
The IT guy, John, wasn’t too bad, just sort of annoying. As soon as the jurors were brought out of the courtroom, he fired up at least three devices—phone, I-pad, tablets, whatever. And he focused on those, not the directions the court officers gave the jury. So other jurors had to prompt John to pay attention. One of the other jurors suggested that maybe the judge should send him text messages when she wanted to give the jury instructions.
Among the retirees, Ralph was someone Mike could have done without. Ralph wasn’t really offensive, just dense. He had to have everything explained to him multiple times. Either he hadn’t listened or was getting senile. Ralph was retired from a landscape business, and Mike wondered if maybe he’d worked too long out in the sun with pesticides.
The other retirees weren’t so bad. Hank was retired from the Office of Personnel Management. He’d done something related to human resources, but Mike wasn’t quite sure what. Hank was pleasant enough and took notes during the court sessions, but he avoided discussing the case in the jury room. Mostly he talked about golfing, his travels, and his grandkids.
Two women retirees, Mary and Val also seemed nice. Mary had been an administrative assistant for an insurance agent, and Val had had her own florist’s shop before selling it when she retired. Mary tried to referee and ease tensions with Vivian. Val took copious notes during court sessions, but refused to show them to Vivian or to listen to Vivian’s views on the trial. When Vivian tried to press her, Val just smiled and talked about her trips downtown to the Shakespeare Theater or the Kennedy Center to attend plays and musicals.
Ben worked at the Department of Labor doing something related to statistics. He was quiet but pleasant enough. Mike had talked with Ben during the week about the time he had spent in the military. Ben had served as an Army lieutenant in the first Gulf War before he got out of the military and went to college. He had two boys. Both were in high school and played baseball.
Mike thought several other jurors would be good to know after the trial.
/> Andy was hilarious. He worked for Booz Allen on a Government contract that he didn’t talk about. Instead he discussed his life on his farm near Warrenton where he and his wife raised llamas. Andy pointed out that he worked for Booz but lived for llamas. And he took great pleasure in making jokes that annoyed Vivian.
Dan was a genuine guy. He was in his mid-thirties and taught history and government at a Fairfax County High School. Dan seemed really smart. He always had books with him in the jury room, knew a lot about current events, and could leave Vivian snarled in her own arguments. Dan had been an Army Ranger and had been wounded in Iraq. He had an artificial leg. It didn’t show under his slacks, and Dan seemed able to do everything that “normal” people do. He even went to the gym to lift weights and run. Amazing.
And then there was Bella. If he was younger, better looking, and unmarried, Mike would prostrate himself at her feet. She said her job, accounting for Price Waterhouse, wasn’t glamorous, but she certainly was. In her mid-twenties, Bella was tall, dark, and better endowed than Angelina Jolie once was. She said she wasn’t married, but she lived with a guy, Sam, who worked for some consulting company called McKinsey. Sam traveled back and forth to Texas a lot, so Bella took belly dancing and cooking classes when he was gone. Vivian hated Bella.
Mike had hoped the judge would let them go a little early so he could beat the traffic. No such luck. But he was looking forward to kicking back this weekend and not thinking about the trial. His wife had said this morning that she would put some chicken and burgers on the grill tonight and that she had some beers chilling in the refrigerator. Mike knew his girls, Molly who was seven and Amy who was 10, needed to get to bed early because they had soccer games tomorrow. Who knew, maybe he and his wife would get some alone time after dinner.
- 25 -
Hank looked at Joan across the small conference table where they were seated in her windowed corner office and asked, “So what do you think?”
Joan leaned back, looked out the window, and then dropped her pen on the table. “I think the prosecution wants to paint Sean and his team as crazed killers. There’s not much question that Sean killed the Afghan boys. What the prosecution wants is for the jury to think that the killings were premeditated, not self-defense. That’s why Kozak was digging about the photos on the wall. She wants the jury to see Sean as a trophy hunter who’s focused on adding any Afghan he can to his trophy wall. And Kozak wants the jury to think that Sean wanted the kills so badly he was willing to shoot those boys as they slept.”
Hank said, “Well, Kozak seems to have the Afghan Government official in her camp. He was a pretty good witness in my opinion.”
Dave, standing and leaning against the door jamb, said, “Yeah, I noticed some of the jury members were really focused on him, and his English was great, so my guess is they weren’t struggling to understand him but were paying attention to what he said. Which was that a raiding party went into a dark school and executed a bunch of civilians, including 16 schoolboys asleep in their beds. That’s not going to help our guy.”
Joan sighed, nodded, and said, “Yes, yes, but the official is also an Afghan, and some on the jury will automatically distrust him for that reason. And I think Smith did a decent job in trying to point out to the jury that the official’s investigation turned up only circumstantial evidence—no witnesses who were in the room when the killings occurred. And it was good Smith pointed out that the Afghan Government had no one—on their side or ours—to prosecute until our Justice Department contacted them. He admitted they couldn’t identify the raiders. That makes the Afghan Government look either inept or collusive and trying to cover up their involvement.”
Dave stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugged, and said, “Which they are.”
Hank looked at Dave and said, “Yes, and we don’t want that out in court. Either that the Afghan authorities are feckless or dishonest. It won’t reflect well on us. Plus we don’t want any hints of a cover-up. The press would go to town on that.”
Dave nodded and said, “The press always digs until they find something nasty. So, where do we want to point Smith? He’s going to have to focus in on the self-defense angle, in my view, but I don’t want him calling Sean to the stand. Even with coaching, there’s the risk Sean’d say something he shouldn’t.”
Joan nodded, tapped her perfectly manicured maroon nails on the table, and said, “We absolutely do not want Sean on that stand. Lord only knows what he’d say about what he did. Plus, we don’t want him doing a data dump on who told him to do what. If we need to, we’ll come up with a national security justification to keep him from testifying.”
Hank, twirling his badge in the middle of its lanyard, said, “Do we have one?”
Joan rolled her eyes and said, “We will if Smith does something so stupid as to try to get Sean up there! Start working on one now, by the way.”
His mouth dropping open, Hank said, “Me? Now? It is Friday evening.”
Joan responded, “Yes, and make the justification good. Call in others if you need to. See what they’ve used in the past and what’s worked the best. We can tailor it if we need to. Just make sure something’s ready on Monday to go to the judge. Just in case.”
“Oh, and you’d better let Smith know, quietly of course, that we won’t be pleased if he tries to get Bennett on the stand.”
Joan shook her head and said, “I don’t entirely trust Smith to do what needs to be done. Part of his problem is he desperately wants to be honest, but he’s trying to defend a client who does dishonest things for a living. And that could kill us in court. So, let’s pursue all the avenues we have to help Mr. Smith, whether he appreciates us or not.”
Joan looked up at Dave and said, “I’d like you to start looking at whether Smith could argue that MEJA doesn’t apply to this case.”
Dave raised his eyebrows, “But it does.”
Joan said, “Wrong answer. We need reasons why it doesn’t. And make them good.”
“Oh shit.”
Joan shrugged and said, “Yes, this case is such a pain in the ass.” She got up from the table, smoothed down her designer blouse, and grabbed a bottle of diet Pepsi from her desk. Heading to the door, said, “Speaking of painful things, I’ve got to go brief the seniors here.”
As she exited, Joan turned and said, “Oh, by the way, I’m sure they’ll also want a backgrounder for the Secretary and Joint Chiefs. So you two should add that to your list of fun things to get started on. See ya.”
- 26 -
Kate looked at her answering machine but didn’t pick up. Sean was calling her. She knew he would.
His voice came on the machine, “Kate? You there? Pick up the phone. It’s me, Sean. You home? I need to talk to you, cupcake. Pick up, please.”
Kate stared at the phone. She didn’t pick it up. Let him try again.
She went into the kitchen and heated some water for tea, then looked in her refrigerator. Hmm. Some leftover spaghetti and some homemade granola bars. She grabbed one of the granola bars and took a nibble while she poured the water over a tea bag in her owl mug, a gift from her big sister, Karla. Karla was a United Methodist minister in New Jersey. She had a small congregation and also worked with “at risk” students in a local alternative school. Kate thought of Karla when she used the owl mug, and she felt comforted. At least someone was working for good in the world.
Kate carried the tea and granola bar into the combination living/dining area of her condo and plopped down with her snack and the mail while she waited for Sean to call again. About 15 minutes later the phone rang.
“Kate, are you there yet? It’s Sean again. Hey, pick up, if you’re there. C’mon cupcake. Let’s talk. Maybe I could swing by. We could grab something to eat, and I’ll tell you about the trial. I know you want to hear. The prosecution is really trying to nail me for slaying those dip-shit Afghan kids. Like anyone on the jury probably cares. Everyone in that whole damn country is a fucking terrorist. Who cares if they were school
kids? I certainly don’t. And who the fuck cares if I whacked them while they were awake or sleeping? Listen, it was a whole lot easier—and safer for me and my guys—to kill them while they slept. They’d be terrorists later if they weren’t already, and I was just doing my job. But I’m starting to think my lawyer sucks. Moralistic prick. Hey, call me soon cupcake. I’m getting hungry. And for more than food, cupcake.”
Kate heard Sean disconnect, then she pushed the replay button. She listened, then took out a small handheld recorder from a drawer in a nearby end table and replayed and recorded both of Sean’s calls to her. Kate took the recorder into her kitchen, opened a cupboard, and put it in one of her tea canisters. Then she went back into her living room, picked up the phone, and sat down again on her sofa. She sipped her tea and tapped the phone against her chin. Hmm. Sean hadn’t even realized she was in the courtroom with him since the start of the trial. Interesting. Well, it was left over spaghetti and HBO or dinner with Sean. Yippee-skippee, either way. She’d definitely need to go for a long run tomorrow to clear her brain.
Kate dialed Sean’s number and coughed a bit when he picked up. Hi, Sean, I just got home and got your messages. Sorry, I’ve got a cold and am feeling kind of crummy, but if you still want to have some dinner and talk, I’ll try not to infect you. Maybe it’d be best if I meet you somewhere rather than you coming here.”
“Kate, okay, sorry you’re sick. I just wanted to touch base with you about the trial. I know you said you might have to testify at some point, and I thought you’d want to know what’s been happening.”
“Umm. Sure. I’d like to know what you think.”
“Great. We can we meet at Uncle Julio’s at Reston Town Center? Or maybe Amphora in Herndon? They’re pretty close to your condo.”
“Amphora would be good. Parking is easier there, and it’s going to be quieter than some of the places at the Town Center.”
