by Philip Dole
“Darn lucky you caught me, Son. I was just going out the door. Did you forget I’m playing in the American Cancer Society tournament on the Big Island?”
Tyler hadn’t remembered. He’d been looking for an affordable office and not keeping tabs on his father. But he didn’t want to offend him. “No, I didn’t forget, but I can’t remember how long you’ll be gone.”
“Until Tuesday at the earliest. The Stewarts want me to stay at their new place. So if it’s golf weather, I may stay until Thursday or Friday. I’ve left the number on the refrigerator.”
Tyler didn’t feel sorry for his father because he deserved his fall from grace. Nevertheless Tyler pitied a lawyer, once so busy he had needed a full-time scheduling assistant, who now only had a handful of clients keeping him on retainer as their “investment advisor.” Instead of wheeling-dealing around the globe Arnold now filled his days with rounds of leisure golf and Shirley Temples.
Lawyering was in the Pierce DNA. There had been Pierce lawyers in America since 1637 when William Pierce came ashore in Newburyport, Massachusetts. Arnold proudly claimed this patriarch of the Pierce lineage had been the very first lawyer in America. Yet scandal had stained many Pierce lawyers because they often put the ends before the means.
Arnold had always set high goals for himself and had become a successful international attorney, a real “mover and shaker.” He would disappear for days overseas to parts unknown. Tyler amused himself by deducing where his father had been by researching the gifts Arnold would always bring back. Tyler had decided while still in law school he didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps as a “white shoe” lawyer.
But since Tyler had been on Maui, Arnold had been pushing him hard to go into business with him. Tyler had resisted. However he thought in his current predicament Arnold might be able to help.
“Father, I need your advice.”
“Oh, is that so.”
“I might have a criminal defense client, and I’m confused. Well…”
“Nothing but trouble.” Arnold’s unspoken “I told you so” came out loud and clear.
“But they only charged my guy with a minor passport offense, and the government is playing hard ball. What do you think is going on?”
“Why ask me for advice?” Obviously Arnold relished his contrary son deigning to ask for his help.
“Because I respect your knowledge. Come on, you’ve forgotten more law than I’ll ever know.”
“And I’m telling you again you’re crazy to do criminal defense. Listen to me, Son,” Arnold’s voice changed, now sounding earnest, “if you get a criminal client off, he’ll think you did nothing for him because, of course, he wasn’t guilty in the first place. And then on the other hand, if you don’t get him off, he’ll think, of course, you did nothing because he got convicted despite being innocent. So for you, the attorney, it’s a lose-lose proposition.
“Tyler, why work on your own? I’ve already asked you to work with me. If you like living here so much, why not work with me? I’ll get the clients and do the heavy lifting, and you can be the attorney of record. You have the law license. That could be good for both of us.
“But why am I wasting my time? If it comes from me, you ignore it. It’s in one ear and out the other. If I know so much, why don’t you listen to my advice?”
“What I don’t understand is why the feds are being so tough. I was cordial, perfectly reasonable and civil, really I was.”
“Oh, I see they taught you at Harvard all about civility, did they?”
“Yes.”
“Bullshit, Son. Pure bullshit. You’re so naive. Let me set you straight. Civility between attorneys means smiling as you stick a knife in the other guy. E tu, Brutus.”
“I can buy that. But why use a shotgun to kill a mosquito? My guy’s a nobody.”
“Wake up, rookie, and get your head out of the clouds. The problem’s not your client. The problem is you. Don’t you see? You’re fresh meat. They want you to know your place. They want you to eat dirt. It’s a stinky, filthy barnyard out there with a pecking order. And you, Son, are on the bottom. If you don’t wise up, you’re going to stay there, eating dirt. Does that spell it out for you? I’ve got to run, or else I’ll miss my plane.” The line went silent.
Tyler slapped his desk. No sir, he wasn’t going to stay on the bottom. He wasn’t going to eat anyone’s dirt.
Chapter Three
In the one-room office above the surf shop
100 Hana Highway,
Paia, Maui, Hawaii
Friday, December 3, 2005
3:03 p.m.
Tyler looked around his office. At least he’d been smart enough to refuse a lease. He’d only paid a month’s rent in advance. He could just turn in the keys and walk. He had that option. He admitted he felt beat and battered.
Maybe I should accept Arnold’s offer? But why in the world should I give up doing it my way? Heck, I haven’t even moved in. There are people out there who need me. Who’s going to help them?
He flashed back to the day before when a local guy, Keoni Kealoha, had seen him hauling book boxes up the stairs and had lent a hand. Afterward they had cooled off with a “shave ice” and “talked story.” Tyler had mentioned he was an attorney, and Keoni had asked for his help. Keoni’s grandfather was gravely ill in the hospital, heartbroken he had no land to pass on to his descendants. Although his grandfather had signed up years ago when he was a young man to receive a parcel of the Hawaiian Home Lands’ 200,000 acres that had been set aside for native Hawaiians by Congress in 1921 as compensation for the United States’ illegal 1893 overthrow of the Hawaiian kingdom, he was still on the waiting list. Keoni couldn’t understand how a man could languish on a waiting list for decades. Touched by his tale, Tyler offered to help him and his dying kupuna.
“I run the surf shop with my ‘ohana.”
“That’s great. I could really use one of your board lockers. Then I won’t drag my board back and forth.”
“Oh, you’re a surfer, brah.”
“I’m just getting the hang of it. I came here to visit my father a couple of months ago, but wow I love it. I love it here, and I love surfing. This really is paradise. I’m never leaving.”
“You try to help my kupuna, and you can store your board in the back room as long as you want.”
“Deal.”
True to character Tyler had kept his word and had plunged into researching Keoni’s problem. In fact, that was what he had been doing when Lei had interrupted him. But his immediate concern was how to redress his stupid speakerphone gaffe. He ran both hands over his shiny, clean-shaven head.
“Information.” He needed more information, and so he called Donna White. Donna had been an assistant federal public defender for ten years and undoubtedly had handled many cases with Hacker. If anyone could explain where he had gone wrong, it was she. He had met Donna by chance when he had happened to sit down in an empty chair at her table during the orientation for bar admittees. They had hit it off. He fished her business card out of his wallet and dialed her number.
“Federal Public Defender’s Office.”
“Donna White, please. Tyler Pierce calling.” He crossed his fingers, hoping she was in. Then he added, “I’m a new attorney. I met Ms. White at the admittees’ orientation in August.” He waited while he was connected.
“Tyler, nice of you to call.” Ms. White sounded positive and supportive, and her tone bolstered him. He had an ally.
“I could use some advice, Donna. My father thinks I’m wasting my time doing criminal defense, but I disagree.” He inched his way into his problem. “I’m excited about it, but I’m also confused.”
“Sure. Of course, you are. Everything’s new.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was perfectly aware he didn’t know what he was doing.
“My problem is he’s told his sister he won’t talk to anybody but her.”
“That’s not surprising. It happens all the time. Try to look at it from the defendant’s viewpoint. You’re busted and thrown into the lock-up. You’re surrounded with federal law enforcement personnel. Then a stranger shows up. He tells you to trust him. He’ll look out for your best interests. Sounds pretty fishy, doesn’t it?
“If your guy’s got half a brain, he expects you to run straight to the feds and spill everything he tells you. No, I’m not surprised he won’t talk to you. I’m surprised more don’t just laugh at us. You’ll have to overcome his skepticism and gain his trust eventually. Get his sister to reassure him. You’ve got to keep doing your best. That’s your ethical duty, and it’s a duty you can’t ever breach. If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. Criminal defense can be difficult. But don’t blame the defendants. They’re in a tough spot.” She chuckled before she asked, “Is that the only thing you’re confused about?”
He debated what to tell her. He decided to keep it simple. “According to his sister my guy doesn’t want to remain in the country. He won’t fight deportation.”
“Good. That makes it a whole lot simpler.”
“That’s what I figured. I thought expulsion was nearly automatic. So if my guy doesn’t care if he’s deported, what’s the government’s big problem?”
“Well what is the big problem? They’re going to toss him out on his ear. Just plead him pronto and wish him sayonara.”
“He’s Chinese, not Japanese, but I get your drift. And I proposed a guilty plea with a sentence of jail time equal to that served, a reasonable fine, payment of court costs, and permanent exclusion from the U.S. What’s wrong with that?” Tyler voiced righteous indignation, a testimony to his resilience because a half-hour earlier his dignity had been in shreds.
“Nothing’s wrong with that proposal. Sounds fine to me. You might have asked them to limit the exclusion to ten years. But it’s a good proposal. What did they say? Who do you have?”
“Hacker, and he really busted my balls.”
“Too bad. Don’t worry about it. Maybe he was just having a bad hair day. We all have ‘em.”
“Can you please help me?” He didn’t even know what she could do. He had to leave it in her more experienced hands and hope she could think of something.
“How ‘bout this? I’ve got my own case with Hacker. Why don’t I call him about that case and take the opportunity to nose around yours? I’ll ask. He might tell me something, but I can’t promise anything.”
He shot his free arm straight up in the air. She had ratified his instincts.
“Donna, do me another favor? Please call him right away. Trust me; it’s urgent. So if you learn anything, let me know right away. I’ll be here.”
“No problem. I’ll call him as soon as I hang up.”
Five minutes later the telephone rang. He picked up the receiver, reminding himself of his new policy to never use a speakerphone for business even if he was alone.
“Hello, Tyler? This is Donna. Good news. Well,” she paused and started anew, “perhaps I should leave that up to you to decide. But I did get some information.”
“Mahalo.”
“And it wasn’t you.” Tyler hoped Hacker hadn’t told her they’d laughed at him. “It’s your client.”
He didn’t understand. “My client? What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. The problem is your client. I told you the plea bargain you proposed was reasonable. In fact, that impressed me. I might have proposed the exact same one.”
He shook his head, confused and bewildered. He believed he must have made some serious mistake to set off Hacker like he had, but now Donna was telling him it wasn’t anything he did. “So why’s my guy the problem? What did my guy do so wrong? I thought it was just a false passport.”
“It’s not what your client did. It’s who he is.”
Even more confused Tyler leaned forward, put both elbows on his desk, and pressed the phone against his ear.
“What do you mean? Does my client have a long record? Did he violate parole or jump bail?”
“I’m not sure. They don’t have that information yet. They’re still confirming his identity.”
“What! You mean they don’t even know who he is.”
Then Donna dropped a bombshell.
“Hacker thinks your client is a big-time arms dealer.”
“What? Arms dealer. That’s crazy.”
“Yessiree, a big-time arms dealer, some shadowy guy the feds are interested in. Very interested.”
“But why does Hacker think that?”
“He wouldn’t tell me much. But it seems your client had some documents in his bag they are poring over right now.”
Tyler was dumbfounded. Thoughts swirled around in his head like falling leaves in a wind.
“What do you think your client’s name is?”
“Nik Wen Chang, as we would say. But the Chinese say it in the opposite order.”
“The name Hacker brought up was Peng. Have you ever heard that?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, they’re trying to make a positive ID, but they’re having trouble. They think there’re two Pengs. Fu Peng is the father, and then your guy is the son, Wu Peng.”
“Why aren’t they sure who he is? I thought they brag about knowing everything about everyone.”
“Oh, my young friend, don’t sell them short. They do know everything, but they have to look in the right place to find it.”
“So what can I do? I’ve got to get my guy out of lock-up.” Tyler felt the loneliness known best by poor souls knee-deep in serious trouble with no idea where to turn.
“I don’t know what you can do. They think they’ve got one of the Pengs whom they’ve been looking for a long time. But they can’t find any prints or good photos. Not yet, anyway. Hacker was bitching about only having grainy stills from an airport surveillance tape.”
“So they could be wrong. Niko might be the wrong guy, and it could be a simple case of mistaken identity.”
“It could be, but I wouldn’t bet on it. Why don’t you call Hacker and ask what it’ll take to prove they’ve got the wrong guy.”
“I’m on it. Right now.”
Heart racing, he hung up and dialed Hacker’s number and waited nervously for him to pick up.
“Hello, Hacker speaking.”
“Mr. Hacker, this is Tyler Pierce again.”
“Oh, Mr. Pierce. I guess we got cut off.”
“Sure, we got cut off.” He didn’t hide his umbrage at Hacker’s rudeness. “I called back because I need more information to prepare my client’s defense.”
“A defense. Good luck doing that.”
Tyler chose to ignore that comment. “What if I can prove my client is not who you think he is?
“Who do you think your client is?”
“A Dutch citizen of Chinese extraction who has never been an outlaw. He’s not a criminal. He was on his way back to Amsterdam. He was here on family business.”
“What kind of business is that?”
“Dry cleaning.”
“We’ve got a stack of interesting documents that have nothing to do with dry cleaning.”
“I realize you wouldn’t be making such a big deal out of this unless you had a good reason. But will you reconsider if I can prove to your satisfaction he’s not who you think he is? Will you grant me that?”
“I’ll be happy to look at whatever you get. But it better be ironclad, or I won’t consider releasing him. Do you understand? Am I
being clear?”
“Perfectly.” Tyler hung up but kept his hand on the handset.
Damn! Where in the world am I going to get ironclad proof?
Chapter Four
In the one-room office above the surf shop
100 Hana Highway,
Paia, Maui, Hawaii
Friday, December 3, 2005
3:34 p.m.
Tyler picked up the handset and called Lei. “Ms. Chang, I want you to know there have been interesting developments in your brother’s case.” He wanted to keep Niko as a client, and to do that he had to redeem himself in her eyes.
“You haven’t made matters worse, have you?”
Her rudeness offended him. “No, I haven’t made matters worse. I have learned why Mr. Hacker acted like that.” He wasn’t going to take the blame for that fiasco if Donna agreed his plea offer had been perfectly reasonable.
“I believe Mr. Hacker made it clear your proposal was laughable, wouldn’t you agree?”
Tyler ignored her question. “Do you want to know who Mr. Hacker thinks your brother is?” He dangled the bait and prayed she would bite. Silent moments passed. He feared she would hang up. “Don’t you want to know?”
“What do you mean?” A mixture of suspicion and confusion blended in her voice.
“Just what I said.” He didn’t regret the hard edge he’d put on his reply. “I know why Mr. Hacker dismissed me. Don’t you want to know? It’s pretty interesting.”
“Yes, I do want to know.” Her attitude changed like the flipping of a light switch.
“Well, first put your mind at rest. The plea offer you heard Mr. Hacker ridicule was a reasonable one. I have already discussed it with federal public defenders, people who do these kind of cases day-in, day-out, and my proposal was just what they would have made.”
“You actually worked on this case after I left you?”
“Yes. I did. Mr. Hacker’s reaction mortified me. I couldn’t leave it like that. Didn’t I say I would help your brother? I promised that, and I meant it. So I felt the least I could do was figure out why he had reacted like that. Even if you don’t retain me, I owe you an explanation for the sake of your brother and your family. Ms. Chang, if I give you my word, I keep it. You can rely on that. Trust me.”
