by Jeff Nania
“That will work to a certain extent, but the ‘little stuff’ is important. Everybody is going to read this story and have their own opinions. From the gang at the Moccasin Bar to the Lion’s Club. Everybody is going to weigh in. Details are important.”
“Let’s get through the big story, and if I’m around, we’ll fill in the details later.”
The if I’m around part was no joke. Even though I had kept a pretty damned good game face on, I was a sick man. My strength was waning. I had noticed the weakness in my legs, the left one especially, but I thought it was just from being bedridden for so long. I removed the snap-on lid on my hospital issue water cup and found it very difficult. I doubt that I could have even racked the slide on my little Walther. I was just tired, worn out.
“Anyway, I was dumbfounded when I found out that Julie had deceived me. The time had come to take the bull by the proverbial horns.”
19
Cabrelli
So as I was saying, after driving the jeep, it felt like I was low flying in my little car. There was little traffic so I kept the car at a steady 75. The landscape I had so enjoyed just days before was now a blur. Distance to be traveled. I slowed down before I pulled into the lot at school. All the kids were outside working on the garden or building benches and wood duck houses. I parked and walked over to Julie. She was down on her knees helping some students transfer small plants to a raised garden bed.
“Julie, we need to talk.”
“Talk,” she said with a smile.
“I know about the life insurance.”
Her face went sheet white. She moved her mouth, but no words came out.
Although I was steaming mad on the trip out to the school, once we were face to face, her look said it all. I was no longer mad. I just felt betrayed and defeated. I had fooled myself that Musky Falls was a place that would bring me peace, happiness, and honesty. Now I found it was a place just like all others.
“John, if you could wait just a half hour, the kids will all be gone. Summer school lets out early, and they are cleaning up right now. I don’t want them around when we talk.”
My temper rose again. “I don’t blame you for not wanting them to know what kind of person their teacher really is. I’ll be glad to wait. I’m sure this is going to be worth it.”
I walked over to sit at the picnic table next to the building. Some of the kids said “hi,” but I was in no mood for conversation. Soon they had cleaned up and were all on the bus. Julie waved as they pulled out. She came over to sit across from me.
I have been told by others that at certain times I have a look on my face that is scary. It usually shows up just before hell is about to break loose. I don’t consider myself some kind of super badass, but when this happens, there is no backing down. If you choose to start a fight, I may lose, but you will get all I have to offer and even more if I can find it. That must have been the look I had on my face when I glared at Julie.
She was at first startled, and then showed a look of fear. Then she stared right back, her eyes meeting mine.
“That hellish look on your face may scare others, but it doesn’t scare me. If you want to talk, we’ll talk. If you are going to yell and rant and who knows what else, I am leaving, and we can talk sometime later when you have settled down. You make the choice.”
I told her we would talk now.
“When were you going to tell me about the life insurance policy?”
“I actually didn’t know how to handle it. I was as surprised as you. I have never been in this situation before, so I didn’t do anything. Besides, Dennis Targett told me that I didn’t have to tell anyone anything. So I decided not to, until I felt the time was right.”
“So you didn’t think it was important to tell me that my murdered uncle had changed the beneficiary on his life insurance policy three weeks before he was run down and murdered? That sounds to me like it’s something you wanted to hide, motive …”
“Motive for what!? You stupid ass, you jerk! You actually think that I had anything to do with Nick’s death? What the hell is wrong with you? You, the ‘concerned nephew’ that didn’t even know that Nick and Rose were dead. You and all your crap about how this place feels like home. I never asked one thing from Nick and Rose. I loved them and cared for them. You were nowhere to be found. How dare you talk to me this way!”
She stood up and slapped me across the face so hard it felt like I was hit with a blackjack.
“I am staying at Bud’s house tonight. I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Stay away from me. That goes for Bud, too. We will be out tomorrow to get my stuff. Please let me know when you will not be there.”
She got in her car and left, tires spinning, gravel flying.
My face burned from the slap, but more from her obvious hurt and anger.
She was right. Technically it was none of my business. Also, there really hadn’t been a point where it would have been a good time to have broached the subject.
It was time to find out what the hell was going on. Things were no clearer than when I’d started. The first place to start was the safe in Uncle Nick’s shop.
I pulled in, and the warm coming-home feeling had deserted me. I, John Cabrelli the cop, was on the case and going to run it down, take it to its natural end. Whoever the bad guys were, they were going down, starting now. Lawler, Anderson, Stone, whoever; their time had come. As my old precinct commander used to say, ‘Your ass is grass, and I am the lawnmower.’
I opened the shop and pulled out the file drawer. The light lit the door and the safe dial. It was a sturdy safe with hidden hinges and what looked like a thick door, probably fireproof. Not a cracker box that I was going to open with a pry bar and drill. Safe combinations are usually in two categories. People use the combination that was assigned to the safe, or they change it to something that is easy to remember for them but personal information someone else would not readily know. On a safe dial numbered 1 to 100, the combination almost always had six digits. Right-left-right or the opposite.
Six digits, zero could be used. I sat at the workbench and picked up a notebook and paper, trying to put number codes into a usable sequence. The phone worked if I dropped the first or last number. I tried it both ways—no luck. The fire number was a short one. What worked was a birth date. I had Uncle Nick’s and Aunt Rose’s in my paperwork. I tried both—nothing. Then I tried mine, and the lock clicked. I turned the handle, and the door came open.
The safe was about two feet deep, and the opening was a foot square. It was three-quarters full. Before taking anything out, I looked to make sure no one was sneaking up on me. There was a workbench with a window over it that looked out on the driveway. I took the Walther out of my pocket, set it on the bench, sat down with the first two envelopes, and began.
The first was a business-sized white envelope with my name on the front. A note inside read:
Johnny,
If you are looking at this, it is because you are a smart boy, found the safe, and figured out the combination.
It also it means that I have gone on to join your aunt Rose. I can’t wait to see her. I have missed her so much.
I don’t know where to begin. There is so much to say. What is contained in this safe is mostly self-explanatory. As you will see, I ended up in the middle of things that I wanted no part of. I did not ask to be involved and tried to avoid it at every turn. They just kept coming, and I knew that they were not going to stop. Vince Lombardi said, ‘The best defense is a good offense,” so I began to look at the situation and started putting things in categories, just like developing an invention, common denominators, isolated factors, co-dependent factors, and so on.
I decided to do this after I had a long talk with myself. After Rose died, I felt like a ship without a home port. If I could wish something for you, I would wish that you would have a partner like Rose. She made me stronger, smarter, and a better person. Any success I have had in life has been because of her, not in spite of her.
When that little weasel Anderson came to me with the offer from Stone, I was very tempted. I have loved the north country and all it has to offer: its clear waters and fast running rivers and the big woods. Northern Wisconsin is a place like no other—a place where everyone can spread their wings and not touch wingtips. There comes a time when you have to look at the future, and this place is a lot to take care of. I thought about selling and almost did until I found out the truth. From then on, it was me against them. There is more to find out, but what’s here ought to get you started. Be careful. I think these guys are dangerous.
I hope you have met Julie Carlson by now. I left a good portion of my life insurance policy to her. The amount should be enough to get an endowment started for her school. There is only one stipulation: she has to take a portion of the money to buy herself a new car. She hauls kids around in that rattrap of hers, and between Bud, Doc O’Malley, and I, we can barely keep it running. See that she does it. She’s not too good at receiving gifts.
I believe strongly in what she is doing. Most of those kids have nothing, yet she makes them all feel special. I am convinced that her school is part of saving the world. Video games, cell phones, computers, and a couple hundred TV channels have made certain that kids will spend as much time as possible indoors. I believe with all my heart and mind that the health of our environment and the health of our human population are forever intertwined. Who will the leaders be that step up to protect what we have if their only exposure is a nature show on TV? I tell you who: it’s going to be those kids at Northern Lakes. I hope you will get to know them. They are worth your effort.
Johnny, the rest is in the safe. I want you to know that Rose and I loved you like a son. You were a good boy and have become a good man. I know the pain you must have gone through. Just remember, you can’t change what happened a second ago. You can only change what happens a second from now. Miss me and mourn me, but live your life. It is one of God’s greatest gifts.
Uncle Nick
I put the letter down and wished that Julie was there to slap me again, just harder this time.
I am predictable to some extent. When I am feeling emotional pain, the best medicine for me is hard work. Idle hands or an idle mind or something like that is the devil’s workshop.
I sat at the bench and opened the second envelope. In it was a letter from a private investigation/law firm located in Minneapolis indicating they were confident that the information they had developed was accurate and that there was little else to be found. Closing with a “call us again if need be.”
The first document was a corporate charter. Attached to it was a flow chart. Attached to the flow chart was supporting information and several other corporate charters. The narrative was interesting and listed many names of people I had never heard of and companies with names I had also had never heard of. With one glaring exception. Following the flowchart and the narrative through several different corporations led me to the controlling owner of Northern Mining Company, David Stone.
Next was a permit application for mining and mineral exploration. The permit had been approved and was very detailed about what testing could take place and where. The permit had been issued by the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, and Namekagon County Zoning. Attached to the permit was a high resolution aerial photo and a map. Each had areas delineated by various solid and broken lines. Two areas on each map were highlighted with bright yellow: the area along Spider Creek including this property and an area marked as Tribal Trust lands. After that was a huge tract of land marked as being owned by Northern Mining Company and another large tract owned by ST Trust. I am not a cartographer, but even I could see that the only access to the Northern Mining and ST Trust property was through my uncle’s land, right down Spider Creek and all of the land on either side. The rest of the land surrounding their property was owned by the government and was listed as national forest or wilderness area. Even if they could come through the federal property to get to their site, that distance was many times that compared to coming through Uncle Nick’s land, and by the looks of the aerial, it would mean crossing dozens of large and small rivers and streams. The only access point with enough space to run the heavy equipment they used for iron ore mining was through his property. Even if the tribe went along, it wouldn’t get them there.
The firm had uncovered several other interesting documents: one report was marked “confidential” and “proprietary” and “possession of this document by an unauthorized party constituted theft.”
It had two parts: a fiscal analysis and a geologist’s report regarding the proposed mine area. The geologist’s report was in-depth and involved terms and data sheets that were beyond me. It essentially said that the proposed mine site was a Precambrian “Lake Superior-type” sedimentary iron formation. The area contained millions of tons of marketable iron ore. In addition, it noted that it was the largest remaining site in Wisconsin. In the geologist’s opinion, the site had sufficient quantities of taconite over a large area and that it was feasible to mine.
The fiscal report was enough to set you down. Initially the site would produce hundreds of millions of dollars in net revenue from the taconite. Contract terms were currently being negotiated with China to form a partnership that would ensure a ready market for the ore. Shipping via the Great Lakes would ensure economical transportation. The report was done as some type of document for investors. It had none of the fluff and baloney about community benefit that accompanies public documents. This was made for a select few big players that could risk a million or two. The bottom line was pretty plain: the mine would have net revenues over a twenty-year lifespan in the billions of dollars. A long way from shooting someone over fifty bucks at a convenience store, about a billion or two worth of motive. Any way you looked at it the mine was a big deal and was going to make a few people very, very rich.
Money is always one of the top three when it comes to motive. The more money, the less value a life that might stand in the way has.
Next was a group of documents inside a legal folder with a label that said Jonas McMann, Attorney at Law. It was several inches thick, and the first layer was correspondence between Uncle Nick, Jonas, and a lawyer from St. Paul. It was a back-and-forth correspondence regarding the sale of the property. It included three offers to purchase, each more than the preceding one. A letter from Jonas should have closed that issue, as it clearly stated after the third offer that his client did not want to sell, period. Don’t bother us again.
The letters they got in response were ugly. It seems that under the authority of a thing called the Economic Development Act a government entity could move to acquire a property through condemnation. The final offer they would put forth was a permanent easement through the property. They offered a sizable sum for the easement. If the offer was refused they would proceed to initiate a condemnation procedure.
Lawyer McMann was an able researcher, and he studied the potential for their being successful if they were to proceed with the condemnation. The law that they were using was relatively new and one signed at midnight by the governor to serve the interest of a big campaign donor. It was a bad law that would be almost surely found to be unconstitutional. It, however, was the law. The people trying to buy the property had followed the progression required to move forward with such an action. In a nutshell, his opinion was that they would be unsuccessful in any attempt to acquire the property through condemnation.
The problem with that was that even if Jonas worked pro-bono, they would have to hire a law firm that specialized in these sorts of cases. Nick’s defense would soon drain all his assets, and the opposition would just be getting warmed up.
Nick had written every branch of government and every law group that might be looking for a cause, to hang their sign up to fight injustice. From the looks of things, those that did bother to answer gave him little hope.
What had changed any thoughts about selling was next. Th
e mining companies that were involved in the Northern Mining Company had a long history of mining in the U.S. There were pages of documents regarding violations of the Federal Clean Water Act and state water laws. Additional documents detailed fines and penalties that had been levied, and they totaled in the millions of dollars, which was a whole bunch of money, but nothing compared to billions in revenue. There were copies of news stories from around the country. A common theme was easy to detect: the mine was built and operated; the operators were shielded behind a corporation; they extracted as much ore as quickly as possible; eventually environmental regulators would catch up to them and find numerous violations, most involving lakes, rivers, streams, and wetlands. The mining representative would refer issues to their team of lawyers, who would delay the process through legal challenges. They would eventually go to court and be found guilty and fined a couple of million dollars. The lawyers would file appeals and eventually settle. During all of the wrangling, the mine would continue to operate at a huge profit and continue to destroy natural resources. They would appeal to locals working at the mines and tell them how the government was trying to take their jobs by nitpicky environmental violations, thereby turning the public against the regulators. While this was all going on, just months prior to a settlement, the mine would be sold to another company. The new company would pledge to be a better citizen, and the whole process would start over. At least three of the buyers of these mines were ones listed in Uncle Nick’s documentation.
There were two folders left. The next one I read was the most chilling. It was written by a hydrogeologist employed by the U.S. Geological Survey. It listed his credentials as well as various publications that he had been involved in. In his opinion, if the proposed mine was allowed to go forward as planned, the mining process would cause widespread contamination of both surface and groundwater. The proposed process had been used in several other places in the U.S. and Canada, and each case had resulted in significant and long-lasting environmental damage. Although it claimed to be cutting edge mining technology, it had never been used anywhere in the world that did not result in significant impacts. Attempts to pre-treat the contaminated water on site before being discharged into surface waters and wetlands had been unsuccessful and had resulted in significant damage.
