by Owen Parr
Judge Wesley entered the courtroom, took his seat, and called the session to order. “Mrs. Goldstein, proceed please.”
Inez Hartman stood and walked to the lectern, “Thank you, Your Honor. The defense calls Ms. Geraldine Francis to the stand.”
Geraldine Francis, wearing a dark blue suit, a shirt, and tie, took the stand. Some of the jurors looked twice at her, her short, cropped barber shop haircut confused some in the jury.
A few moments after Geraldine had walked past our table, Mr. Longworth started sniffling and sneezing, sometimes loud enough that Wesley turned to look at him. He took out a pill box, and with a glass of water that was on the table, he downed a pill.
Inez went through the preliminaries, asking Geraldine to state her position and time of employment with the Longworth Foundation.
“Ms. Francis, for the record, and to dispense with this question, where were you the night Mrs. Longworth was shot and killed?”
“I was at the offices of the Foundation, working.”
“Any witnesses to that?”
“I believe I was alone. We have a small staff.”
“Ms. Francis,” Inez began, “we have already heard from a previous witness, about the increase in the Foundation’s donations and donor list in the last four years. This success coincides with your joining the Foundation, is that correct?”
“I don’t presume to take all the credit, but, that’s part of my job.”
“Of course, it is, and you seem to be doing it very well. Are any of the new donors past clients of yours? That is, people or institutions that you assisted as a trust officer?”
“Yes, some are. I was able to communicate the importance of the work we do, at the Foundation. Many are very generous with their charitable donations,” said Francis, glancing at the jury box.
“Ms. Francis, how big are the non-profit organizations, or NPO’s, in the United States?”
“There are almost one million non-profit organizations and foundations in the United States. Together, they employ about one in every four persons in the U.S.”
“That’s a big portion of the employment force. Are NPO’s and foundations exempt from income tax?”
“The income received by these entities is exempt from income tax, yes.”
Inez nodded in agreement. “And how much does a donor stand to benefit from U.S. income taxes, and state income taxes, by donating to one of these entities?”
“In some cases, up to forty percent of the amount given, may be deducted from income, for tax purposes.”
“Ms. Francis, was Mrs. Longworth involved in the daily management of the Foundation?”
“Ever since I became the Executive Director, she relinquished most of her duties in management to me. The poor thing, she was doing so much before.”
“I see. So, most of what she did was attend fundraisers, greet and meet donors, mostly, figurehead’s duties.”
“She loved that, and she trusted me with the rest.”
“Was Mr. Longworth involved at all?”
“No, not at all. Occasionally, he would attend a gala or function. But, only if it was local.”
“Good to know. Then we can say, or correct me if I am wrong, you and Mr. Pearson, the counsel for the charity, pretty much did all the work. Is that right?”
“Mr. Pearson did his thing, and I did mine.”
“But you worked close together, when he brought in new donors, right?” Inez asked.
“In that respect, yes.”
“You are aware, I’m sure, that the Foundation is being audited by the IRS?”
“Strictly a standard procedure for them.”
“Is that what they told you?”
“No, but they do that, as a matter of course.”
“I see. And, you must also be aware that there is an FBI probe into the Foundation?”
“Again, very typical with non-profits, and foundations.”
“You said typical? I can see an IRS audit being standard. But, an FBI probe is not your typical fare, now is it?”
“Perhaps not as usual as an audit, I’ll admit that.”
“The Foundation makes donations to other charities mostly, not direct donations to entities, or individuals. Is that right?”
“We make donations to both. But, mostly to charities, and perhaps, other foundations the committee deems worthy.”
“And who sits on this committee?” Inez asked, as she glanced down, and turned the page on her notes.
“We have some volunteers that participate.”
“Is Mr. Pearson on that committee?”
“Yes, he is.”
“How about Mrs. Adams?”
“Also, yes.”
“Plus, others, and of course, yourself?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“How about Mr. Longworth?”
“He’s a standing member, but does not bother to attend,” Geraldine replied, sarcastically.
Inez looked up from her notes, at Geraldine, “Does it bother you, that he doesn’t attend?”
“No, that’s his business.”
“Does the Foundation accept donations from foreign entities?”
“Yes, we do.”
“And, how do you vet them?”
Geraldine shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “How do we vet them?”
“That’s what I asked, yes.”
“We do our due diligence, as best we can.”
“In this due diligence, that you say you do, are you able to ascertain if these donors are legitimate? Could you be taking money from criminal terrorist entities, or governments unfriendly to the United States?”
“Why would we do that?”
“I didn’t ask why. I asked, is it possible you do?”
“We check them out thoroughly,” she said, looking down.
“So, if an entity gives you money, you know exactly who the beneficial owner of the funds is?”
“We do our due diligence as best we can,” Geraldine replied, then thought for a second, and added, “but I cannot guarantee that in every case, we can be one-hundred percent sure.”
“I’m glad you added that. Otherwise, you might have incriminated yourself.”
“I don’t see why?” Geraldine retorted.
“Let me put it this way, one of the FBI probes of the Foundation, may be dealing with a criminal entity, which may have made a donation to the Foundation,” said Inez, glancing at the jurors.
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“Ms. Francis, do you know what charity receipts are?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Would you tell the jurors what they are?”
Ms. Francis turned to the jurors. “A charity receipt is issued by the receiving foundation, to the donor, so that they may claim the donation as a tax deduction in their tax filings.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” exclaimed Morris, the prosecutor. “Is this a murder trial, or a tax seminar?”
The gallery laughed softly, and the gavel came down loudly from Wesley. “Ms. Hartman, is there a point to all this?”
“I’ll move on, Your Honor,” replied Inez.
“That would be nice, thank you,” said Wesley.
“Ms. Francis, the Longworth Foundation issues charity receipts to both domestic donors, as well as foreign donors, is that correct?”
“Domestic donors, probably one-hundred percent of the time. Foreign donors that can use them for their countries tax deductions, when asked for, by them.”
“Are you aware that two of your donors are under investigation for fraudulent use of charity receipts?”
“No, I was not aware of that,” a disgruntled Geraldine replied.
“Is it your role, Ms. Francis, to issue these receipts?”
“That would fall under my supervision, yes.”
“Did you, acting alone, or in collusion with Mr. Pearson, use the Foundation to aid and abet either domestic, or foreign entities, to commit acts of money laundering, and, or ta
x evasion?”
Loudly Ms. Francis retorted, “That’s an absurd accusation, for which you have no proof.”
“I don’t, but the Federal authorities are investigating. Let’s move on. Did you and Mrs. Longworth have a relationship?” asked Inez, grabbing a large envelope from the defense table.
“What do you mean by a relationship?
“To be more specific, did you have a romantic relationship with Mrs. Longworth?” Inez asked, pulling some photographs from the envelope.
Geraldine was silent, and moved around in her chair, as she tried to glance at the photos that Inez did not display for anyone to see. You could hear a pin drop in the courtroom, as there was complete silence, in anticipation of the answer.
Hearing no response to the question at hand, Judge Wesley said, “Please answer the question, Ms. Francis.”
Mr. Longworth had sat there all along, quietly, and without any expression. In expectation of the answer, he leaned forward in his chair.
Geraldine’s shoulders dropped, and she sank a bit in her chair, as if to hide, then, in a faint voice replied, “Yes.”
“Could you speak a little louder, Ms. Francis?” Inez asked.
Moving her mouth closer to the microphone, Geraldine just responded, “Yes,” clenching her right hand, as if crushing a piece of paper.
“Thank you. How long were you and Mrs. Longworth in this relationship?” Inez inquired, shuffling, and glancing at the photographs.
“For the last two years.”
“For the last two years, you said. But, actually, you and Mrs. Longworth were roommates in college. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And in those years when you shared a room, you were lovers, right?’ Asked Inez, looking at the photos.
Ms. Francis hesitated, but replied, “Yes.”
“I see, so it’s been longer that just two years?”
“Yes.”
“Have you stayed lovers since college?”
“No, we did not.”
“When did you and Mrs. Longworth rekindle this love affair?”
Geraldine’s face was flushed. “In the last two years.”
“I see. So, for the last two years, you and Mrs. Longworth were lovers. At the same time, Mrs. Longworth gave you carte blanche in running the Foundation’s affairs. I submit that Mrs. Longworth found out about the improprieties being committed by you, and perhaps Mr. Pearson. She confronted you with them, after a romantic interlude at her home that evening, and you killed her to keep the matter quiet. Isn’t that right Ms. Francis?”
“No!” shouted Ms. Francis from the stand over the murmurs of the gallery, as her hands trembled.
“Objection, Your Honor,” said Morris, loudly, so he could be heard. “More theatrics on the part of the defense.”
Before Judge Wesley could rule on the objection, Inez said, “We have no further questions for this witness, Your Honor.” Without another word, Inez Hartman gathered her papers and photos, and inserted the contents into a file, walking back to the defense table.
Judge Wesley did not need to use the gavel, as the murmurs from the gallery had subsided, and utter silence overcame the gathering, once again. Wesley looked around, then glancing at the prosecution’s table, said, “Your witness, Mr. Morris.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Ms. Francis, do you need a moment?”
Holding a glass of water with both hands to disguise the trembling, and taking a sip from it, Geraldine replied, “I’m fine, thank you.”
Morris pulled out a file from his briefcase, “Ms. Francis, sorry for the discomfort caused by the defense, —”
“Objection, Your Honor,” exclaimed Mrs. Ruth Goldstein.
Wesley said, “Mr. Morris, ask your questions, please.”
“Sorry, Your Honor. Ms. Francis, how long have you been in banking, trust services and the like?”
“Over fifteen years.”
“That’s right,” he added, holding the file up. “And, in those fifteen years, have you ever had any complaints from clients, or your supervisors, of any kind?”
“No, I have not.”
“As a matter of fact, you haven’t even had a parking ticket in your entire life, correct?”
Geraldine looked up and to her left, trying to recollect her past, “Maybe in college, I had a couple of parking tickets. Otherwise, I don’t think so.”
“College doesn’t count, we all get them, there,” Morris replied, with a slight laugh, as the gallery also laughed weakly. “To your knowledge, have you ever been under investigation by the police, Federal authorities, banking authorities, or anyone for that matter?’
“No, never.”
“One last question, Ms. Francis,” he paused, causing the jurors to look at him, “Did you kill Mrs. Longworth?”
“No, I did not,” Geraldine replied, in a dour tone.
“I have no further questions, Your Honor,” Morris said, gathering his things from the lectern, and heading to his table.
Wesley sat up in his chair. “Ms. Francis, you may step down. Mrs. Goldstein, any other witnesses?”
“The defense rests, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Morris, any redirects?” Wesley asked.
“The prosecution rests, Your Honor.”
“Very well. Is the defense ready for closing arguments tomorrow morning?” Wesley asked.
Ruth replied, “We are, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Morris?” inquired Wesley, glancing at him.
“Yes, we are, Your Honor.”
“In that case, we will adjourn until tomorrow at ten in the morning,” Wesley said, and proceeded to give the jurors instructions.
30
“That was good, excellent, Inez,” I said, as she stood next to me, and put her things in a briefcase, “Congratulations.”
Without looking at me, she replied, “Thank you,” and walked away.
I stopped by Ruth Goldstein, who was speaking to Mr. Longworth, “Mr. Longworth, sorry about exposing Ms. Francis as your wife’s lover. We had to do it.” she said, apologetically.
“I understand,” he said, glancing at the floor. “How does it look?”
Ruth replied, “We accomplished what we intended to do, that is; create reasonable doubt that you did it. Now, we make our closing arguments, and see.”
Longworth turned to me and asked, “What do you think, Mr. Mancuso?”
“Sir,” I began, “these ladies have done an excellent job, from my perspective. But, you have to manage your expectations. No matter what happens, I intend to expose the real murderer.”
Longworth frowned, “But if I’m convicted…” he didn’t finish the sentence.
Goldstein said, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Ms. Hartman and I are going to complete our closing arguments, and will reconvene here in the morning.”
Longworth walked out, to the embrace of both his daughter and his son. I stayed by Ruth, “Can I ask you a question, Ruth?”
“Of course, what’s on your mind?”
“You pulled out pictures when questioning Mr. Pearson, and Inez also had pictures, when she grilled Ms. Francis, did you have any incriminating photos?”
“Only if you think our family albums are damning,” she replied, with a sly smile.
“Fantastic,” I said.
Everyone but a few reporters, tapping on their tablets, and phones, was left behind when we walked out of the courtroom. One reporter asked Ruth, “Mrs. Goldstein, do you think Ms. Francis, the lover, did it?”
“We have no comments at this time,” Goldstein replied, and hurriedly walked out with me. She inquired if I had spoken to Father Dominic about their offer. My response was short, just stating I had, but were waiting for this case to come to its conclusion. We said our goodbyes, and I told her I couldn’t wait for the final day.
My ass vibrated as a text from Marcy chimed. It read; ‘call me.’ Instead, I decided to go directly to the hospital, and visit with her. I had a feeling the conversation we were about
to have was something I’d rather do in person, maybe.
I was anxious, and traffic was bad heading to New Jersey. I had gotten used to having a car service take me everywhere, but I was still driving Marcy’s car, so I entertained myself going over today’s testimony, as I made my way to University Hospital.
Entering Marcy’s room, I noticed that the flowers that were now a few days old, were past their prime, the fragrance was still there, but frankly, I’ve never liked the scent of so many flowers together. It reminded me of another place, and not a pleasant one, where flowers are sent to a person in grief.
FBI Special Agent Tony Belford was by Marcy’s bed, holding one of her hands. Huh, I said to myself. Marcy’s stepdad and mom, sat in two chairs, by the front and to the side of the bed. Tony let go of Marcy’s hand as he saw me entering the room, and turned to face me.
“Joey, how are you?” he asked.
“I’m doing good, thanks,” I replied, smiling. I proceeded to kiss both of Marcy’s parents and made my way to Marcy’s bedside, opposite GQ Tony. She looked refreshed, finally wearing makeup, which she had abandoned in the days prior. Leaning down, I kissed her on the forehead and grabbed both her hands.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Better, I’m getting out of here tomorrow,” Marcy replied, with a broad grin.
“That’s great news. Are you going to stay with your parents?”
“No, they’re going to stay with me, at my place.”
“Excellent. I’ll leave your car here tonight.”
“I forgot you had it. But, no, keep it for a couple of days. I won’t need it, and Dad has his car here,” she replied, turning to Tony, she added, “call me from D.C. and, keep me updated.”
Tony got the cue that his visit was over, leaned in, and kiss Marcy on the cheek. “I’ll keep you posted.” He extended his hand towards me, and asked, “Did the information I supplied help you in the case?”
“Man, it made the case, I think. Those two wits didn’t know what hit them, when all that stuff came out. I can’t thank you enough, Tony, we appreciate your help with this. I owe you.”
“My pleasure, let me know if there is anything else I can help with.”
Marcy looked curiously at both of us, not knowing what we were discussing. She leaned forward, and said, “Mom, Dad, why don’t you accompany Agent Belford downstairs? I want to talk to Joey for a minute.”