“You could’ve stopped to say hello,” she admonished him.
“No, I couldn’t. It was your client I was interested in.”
“Oh, I see,” Gretchen softly said. “And who was he?”
“His real name, or at least the one he’s using now, is Ethan Rask,” Tony said then described Rask to her.
“That’s a guy I know as Edward. Not one of my favorites,” she said. “He can be a bit of an arrogant ass, and he’s cheap. He always insists on taking me to dinner then bitches about the bill. Like he expects me to pay for half of it. Plus he’s getting to be a little rough. I don’t mind dishing it out for the right client, if you know what I mean, but I’m not gonna take it.”
“I do,” Tony said. “So, you might not mind losing him as a client?”
“No, not at all. I’ve been thinking about dumping him anyway. What do you have in mind?”
“When do you see him again?”
“Tomorrow night, in fact. We’re going to a new Mexican restaurant on Hennepin.”
“Perfect,” Tony said. “I have something for him. Slip it into a Margarita to cover the salty taste. Here’s what I want you to do…”
Carvelli was sitting in the back seat, passenger side of a Ford van waiting for Gretchen. With him were two other ex-cops, Jake Waschke and Dan Sorenson. Both men, also friends of Maddy Rivers, were fully versed on what to do and were 100% in favor.
It was the Saturday night of the Thanksgiving weekend, the night Gretchen had her ‘date’ with Ethan Rask. Tony had given her a very illegal drug to slip into Rask’s drink that would knock him out and make him very easy to handle. They were parked in a neighborhood in South Minneapolis where the residents minded their own business and were reluctant to call the police.
Headlights appeared through the van’s back window and the car they belonged to parked behind the van.
“This must be her,” Carvelli said as he opened his door.
Within a minute, Sorenson and Waschke were struggling to cram an inert Ethan Rask into the back of the van. While they were doing this, Carvelli and Gretchen were getting back into Rask’s Mercedes so Tony could take her home.
“Don’t start the party without me,” Carvelli said to his two partners.
Sorenson quietly closed the van’s back door as Waschke said to Carvelli, “We’ll see you in a bit. I don’t think he’ll be ready to do the deal before you get there anyway.”
On the drive back to Gretchen’s condo building, she asked Carvelli, “What are you going to do with him? I don’t want to be a part of anything serious.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Carvelli smiled while turning his head from the road to look at her. “He’ll be fine. We’re just going to have a serious chat with him.”
“He’s a tough guy, Tony. He may not tell you what you want to know.”
“Then he doesn’t,” Tony shrugged. He took his right hand off the steering wheel, patted her hand and said, “Don’t worry. We’re not going to hurt him. Much.”
Carvelli parked the Mercedes next to Sorenson’s van behind a small, empty warehouse. The owner was a man who owed Sorenson a favor and let him have the keys to the place for the evening. Of course he received a hundred dollar bill courtesy of Vivian Donahue through Carvelli. Fortunately, Vivian knew nothing about what these guys were up to.
Carvelli went in through the open back door and found Rask handcuffed to a chair in a corner with three powerful, very bright lights on six feet tall metal stands pointed at him. A fourth man, another ex-cop by the name of Tom Evans was holding smelling salts under Rask’s nose. After a few seconds Rask’s head snapped back, he made a couple of grunting sounds, shook his head a couple times and came back to reality,
Evans, wearing a Halloween mask of a zombie, walked away and joined the other three behind the lights. The four ex-cops stood next to the lights so Rask could see them in silhouette but be unable to identify them.
They waited in silence for almost two minutes while Rask struggled with the fuzziness in his head and the handcuffs. He finally gave up trying to free himself, settled down and moved his head around in an effort to see where he was. The lights in his face made that impossible.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Rask broke the silence by asking.
“Who we are is not important,” Jake Waschke answered him. It had been decided that Jake would do the questioning to lessen the odds Rask would recognize his voice. “What we want is the truth and we’re going to get it.”
“Are you cops? Nothing I tell you like this could be used in court so fuck you!” Rask snarled in defiance.
“Are you going to make this difficult or easy? The harder you make it, the longer it takes, the more unpleasant for you,” Jake said.
At that moment, Evans with the zombie mask and Sorenson wearing a skull mask stepped forward to let Rask see them. Rask tried his best to appear calm. Inside he was a quivering bowl of Jello. Even as a child he was terrified of physical pain. He could dish it out but he could not take. He knew he might as well cooperate since it would not take much for these very serious guys to get it from him anyway. He acted like a tough guy but in reality, he was like all bullies; an insecure coward.
For the next thirty seconds, while sweat broke out on his forehead, Rask’s eyes nervously shifted from the two men in masks to the two in silhouette. He licked his lips several times and again pulled on the cuffs holding him in his chair.
“All right, I’ll tell you what you want to know,” he conceded.
“Are you out of bed yet?”
“Carvelli it’s almost ten o’clock. I’ve been up for three hours,” Marc said into his phone.
It was Sunday morning and Marc had spent the night at Margaret Tennant’s. Despite it being a football Sunday, Marc had trial preparation to do for Monday’s testimony and was planning on spending the afternoon in the office.
“Have you had breakfast?” Carvelli asked.
“Yeah, Margaret made waffles. They were great. Why? What’s up?”
“I have some information for you. Meet me at Sir Jack’s on Chicago. I don’t want to do this over the phone,” Carvelli said.
“Can I bring Margaret along?”
“No! This is definitely not something for a judge to hear. Say hello for me then I’ll see you soon.”
When Marc arrived at the popular local eatery Carvelli was finishing what looked to be a large Sunday morning breakfast. The waitress brought a fresh carafe of coffee and poured both men a full cup.
“Man, that hit the spot,” Carvelli said while emptying two creamers into his cup. “I was hungry. I missed supper last night.”
“What’s so important you couldn’t tell me over the phone?” Marc asked.
Tony leaned on the table and whispered, “Me and some friends had a little chat last night with that Ethan Rask guy from CAR Securities.”
Knowing Carvelli, Marc rubbed his temples with both hands then said, “Do I want to know how this came about?”
“No, you don’t. So I won’t tell you. Don’t worry, he’s not going to say anything to anyone and even if he did, he won’t be able to identify anyone. We were very careful.”
“Jesus Christ,” Marc softly said. “How many felonies did you guys commit? On second thought,” he quickly added, “don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”
“Do you want to know what we got or not?” Carvelli asked.
Marc sipped his coffee, sighed and said, “Sure, why not?”
“He confessed to all of it. Rob’s murder, the guy up north, the Ponzi scheme, the money laundering, you name it. He folded like a cheap suit. He even admitted he and a guy he hired were the ones who trashed Gloria Metcalf’s townhouse. They were looking for documents from CAR Securities.”
“What did you do to him?”
“Nothing. I swear,” Carvelli continued holding up his right hand. “We didn’t lay a hand on him. Didn’t have to. He was scared shitless.”
“Can we use it?”
“Not a word of it,” Carvelli shrugged. “At least I don’t see how. It was totally coerced. In fact, we’d all go to jail. But at least we know what happened.”
“How did they kill Rob Judd and set up Maddy?” Marc asked.
“They, or more accurately Rask, hired a pro through some guys he knows in Chicago. Rask doesn’t even know the pro’s name. Except that he’s very good.”
“Obviously. And the other guy and his girlfriend, McGarry?”
“Rask did that himself. He followed them up North and caught them on a hiking trail and pushed them off.”
“Are you serious? Jesus,” Marc said.
“That’s what he claims,” Tony replied.
“Okay, now I want to know. How did you pull this off?”
Tony took a minute to quickly tell him about Gretchen and slipping a ‘Mickey’ into Rask’s drink.
“He’s going after her,” Marc said. “He’ll know it was her.”
Tony shook his head and said, “I don’t think so. We warned him about that. Made it clear if anything happened to her we’d find him. I don’t think he’ll bother her.”
“What did you do with him afterward?”
“We gave him a hypo, a shot with a sedative, that would put him out for an hour or so. Then we packed up and left him. We unlocked his handcuffs, put his car keys in his lap and left a light on above the door. Unless somebody stole his car, it was waiting for him when he woke up.”
Marc leaned forward and asked, “Where do you get all of these drugs?”
“We’re cops. Cops know where to get everything. Haven’t you ever heard the old saying, cops have the best dope?”
Marc sat back in the booth they were in and silently thought over what Tony had done. Carvelli refilled their cups and sipped his while waiting for Marc to speak.
“Why did you do this?” Marc asked with an admonishing look on his face.
“I wanted to get to the bottom of it,” Tony shrugged. “Somehow, we’re going to use this to get Maddy off. Now that we know for sure what happened, she’s going to get her life back. We’ll figure out something.”
“I don’t know what. I guess I can try to go after Walter Pascal when I get him on the stand. Did Rask say if Pascal knows about this?”
“He said they all did. All the principals of CAR Securities. Especially about the first guy, McGarry and the girlfriend, what’s-her-name?”
“Ah, Lynn, something,” Marc said. “Mason, Lynn Mason. Let’s think about this. I still think we have a pretty good shot at an acquittal. I’ll go after Pascal but I’m not sure what Graham will let me accuse him of. He’ll deny everything but at least he’ll be shocked when I hit him with it. You think Rask will tell the others what happened.”
“No way. He said if the guys at CAR find out he’d be next. He says Corbin Reed is a sociopath. He has no conscience and would kill Rask himself. Although I got the feeling he was keeping something from us, but I couldn’t say what.”
THIRTY-NINE
Having driven downtown together, Marc and Maddy stepped off the crowded elevator on the fifteenth floor a few minutes before 8:00 A.M. It was Monday morning and Marc was set to begin presenting his case. Tony Carvelli would arrive with his first witness just before 9:00. Waiting for them with lights ablaze and cameras whirring were several members of the local media.
“What can you tell us about what’s taking place in the courtroom?” the bubbly, bottle-blonde from Channel 3 quickly asked, stabbing her microphone at Marc.
“Brenda, get that thing out of my face,” Marc irritably said while shielding Maddy. “I don’t know what’s going on in there. Excuse me,” he kept repeating as the two of them marched through the small crowd.
At the courtroom was a young sheriff’s deputy guarding the door to keep spectators out. When he saw Marc and Maddy, he said a pleasant good morning while brightly smiling at Maddy and opened the door for them. When they passed through the door, they found the same group of lawyers as had appeared before on behalf of CAR Securities milling about the prosecution’s table. Passing through the gate in the bar Marc nodded toward them and said an all-inclusive good morning.
“Why are they here?” Maddy whispered to Marc when they took their seats at their table.
Marc looked at the lawyers and replied intentionally loud enough for them to hear him, “They’re here to try to quash the subpoena we served on Walter Pascal. Apparently, we’re onto something. Obviously CAR Securities has something to hide.”
While he was saying this they were all looking at him. When he finished he looked them over and they all turned away or looked down, not wanting to make eye contact.
Marc turned back to Maddy and more quietly said, “It’s too bad the jury didn’t see that reaction.”
While Marc was setting up the table with his case file, laptop and other items, Steve Gondeck and Jennifer Moore arrived. They also said a perfunctory good morning to the CAR lawyers. Gondeck then looked at Marc and silently pointed to the conference room door by the jury box.
“What’s this all about?” Gondeck asked Marc when the four of them, including Maddy, got behind a closed door.
“I assume they’re out to quash the Pascal subpoena,” Marc answered.
“Did you know about it?”
“Did I have notice? No. But I figured they’d try it so I’m not surprised. Apparently you didn’t know either,” Marc said.
“No, we didn’t,” Gondeck said. He looked at Jennifer who shook her head then Gondeck said, “Marc, I’m not going to help them but I won’t oppose it, either. That’s the best I can do.”
“That’s okay,” Marc said. “I’m not worried. Graham will throw them out.”
“You’re probably right,” Gondeck agreed.
Almost literally throwing them out is exactly what Judge Graham did. Back in his chambers, Graham listened with growing impatience for more than a half hour to their arguments. Already annoyed with having his Sunday interrupted the previous day with the phone call requesting this impromptu motion and then served with an eighty-page ‘brief’ at his home, his irritation was obvious.
When they finished Graham looked at his court reporter and asked, “Did you get all of that?” The man nodded his head in the affirmative.
“Denied,” Graham quickly said. “The defense has made an offer of proof and I am satisfied Mr. Pascal has information pertinent to the case before the court. You gentlemen will now excuse us. I need to discuss something with case counsel.”
One of the older, more expensive lawyers tried to make an objection and Graham quickly slammed a verbal door in his face. He then requested that the trial be continued to give them a chance to appeal. Graham silently stared at the man for several seconds as if to say, “You’re crazy if you think that will happen.” Instead, he politely denied that as well.
“Good day, gentlemen,” Graham said with obvious finality.
When they had sullenly filed out, Gondeck asked, “What did you want to see us about, Judge?”
“Nothing. I just used that as an excuse to get rid of them,” Graham replied. “You ready to go?” he asked Marc.
“Yes, your Honor. My first witness is on the way and probably here,” Marc said.
“You may call your first witness, Mr. Kadella,” Graham said after taking the bench.
Marc stood and replied, “The defense calls Gloria Metcalf, your Honor.”
Tony Carvelli came through the exterior door first and led Metcalf up the aisle. He stepped through the gate, held it open for her and smiled and winked at her as she passed by. Tony then took a seat behind Maddy in front of the bar along the railing.
To ease her nervousness, Marc got Gloria going by having her tell the jury a little bit about herself. Who she was, her education to establish credibility, where she worked and what she did. Gradually, he moved her into what she knew about Rob Judd and the things he told her.
Metcalf explained to the jury what Judd told her about his concerns at CAR
Securities. Before she was able to get into it, Gondeck vehemently objected because it was all hearsay. Among the numerous exceptions to the rule disallowing hearsay testimony is one where the declarant, Rob Judd, is unavailable. Obviously, since he is dead, he is no longer available to testify himself. Graham overruled Gondeck’s objection and allowed Metcalf to continue.
“Ms. Metcalf,” Marc continued, “bearing in mind that I’m a lawyer and need things explained so even I can understand it, please explain to me what a mortgage-backed security is?”
This admission of ignorance by Marc elicited mild laughter and a large smile from Gloria Metcalf. Of course, having thoroughly rehearsed this ahead of time, Metcalf knew exactly what to say. She turned her head to the jury and calmly, efficiently, without sounding condescending or patronizing, explained what these financial instruments are.
“Did Robert Judd tell you if he had any concerns about these securities being held by CAR Securities for its customers?”
“Yes, he did,” she answered.
“When did that take place? When did he tell you his concerns?”
“It was the Thursday before the Fourth of July weekend; June thirtieth.
“What did he tell you?”
Metcalf again turned to face the jury and told them what Rob had found. She explained the difference between the various risk levels, called tranches, assigned to mortgages from the best, triple A down to much riskier double B and single B securities.
“Why is that important?” Marc asked.
“Because the securities CAR held were far riskier than they were telling their customers. They marketed them as risk-free, triple A backed and they were not.”
“How did Mr. Judd know this?”
“Because he told me he had checked every one of them, all three hundred and forty million dollars worth.”
“Did he show them to you?”
“No, he said he went to our direct supervisor, the head of the bond department, Walter Pascal, and told him about it. Rob told me Walter was surprised and would look into it.”
[Marc Kadella 06.0] Delayed Justice Page 26
