The Nominee

by Alan P Woodruff

  “What did Jackson mean when he said that you weren’t safe?”

  “I… don’t know?”

  White slammed his palm on the conference table. David jumped backward and fell to the floor.

  “Get up and sit down,” White ordered. David stood and stared at White. His eyes had a defiant look, but finally he did as he was told.

  White glared at David until he was confident that he had his client’s full attention. “Get this straight, David. I know you can answer my questions, so let’s not have any more of this ‘I don’t know’ crap. Do you understand me?”

  David’s eyes now showed a mixture of confusion and fear. “Y..Y..yes.”

  White leaned over the conference table getting his face as close to David’s as he could. “‘Yes’ what?”

  “Yes… Sir.”

  “That’s better. Now let’s start over.” White took his seat, reached for a legal pad and picked up his pen. “I’ll ask you again, what did Jackson mean when he said that you weren’t safe?”

  “He said that punks like us weren’t safe from the other prisoners.”

  “Why?”

  David dropped his head and muttered something incoherent.

  “Damn it, David. Speak up.”

  David glared at White and shouted. “He said we were prime meat and we were going to be gang raped! There! Are you happy now?”

  White made a short note and continued as though nothing unusual had happened. In fact, there was nothing in David’s behavior that White was not familiar with. It usually took his clients a while to learn that they couldn’t hide the truth from White. He was their lawyer, and he couldn’t do his job without knowing everything. If it took ‘tough love’ to get the truth, White was capable of administering it

  White thumbed through his file notes and, without looking up, said, “At the bail hearing you said that I had to get you out of jail or you’d be killed. You just said something totally different.” White raised his head and stared straight into Shepard’s eyes. “Which is it?”

  Shepard hung his head and didn’t speak.

  “Damn it, David! Answer me!”

  Without lifting his head, Shepard said, so softly that he could barely be heard, “The rape thing.”

  “And when we met at the jail you said…” White paused while looking through his notes. “You said, and I’m quoting you ‘You don’t have to worry. I’m not cutting a deal.’ Why did you say that?”

  “Because of what Jackson said.”

  “What was that?”

  “It’s too late to make any difference. You’ve already bailed me out.”

  “Why is it too late to make a difference.”

  “Jackson said that people who get arrested on drug charges and then get bailed out can get killed by dealers.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Dealers figure that you must have made a deal, so they make sure that you can’t testify.”

  “How did Jackson know about this?”

  “I don’t know. He just did.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “He’s been around hard drugs more than me, and he’s been in jail before. I figured he knew what he was talking about.”

  White wrote a note and waived a finger calling Horse to his side. Horse leaned over, and White whispered something in his ear. Horse nodded imperceptibly and left the room with the note.

  “Ok. So now tell me who your dealer is?

  David leapt to his feet. “Damn it. I keep telling you… and everyone else.” David stopped to catch his breath before continuing his rant. “I don’t have a dealer. I don’t have a supplier. I don’t have anything. And we didn’t have any drugs in the house when we were busted.” When he finished, David slumped wearily into his chair.

  White made another note then laid his pen on his legal pad and looked at David. “Then this could be your lucky day, David.”

  David seemed too emotionally spent to understand what White was saying. “Huh.”

  White smiled and said, “I believe you.”

  David stared across the table, apparently not able to believe what he had heard. “You believe me?”

  White smiled. “I do.”

  “Oh, thank God.”

  “God has nothing to do with it. Now we have to convince a jury.”

  David was breathing rapidly, and his hands were shaking. “What do I have to do?”

  You need to answer my questions, starting with exactly how you ended up in Matlacha.”

  “I’ve already told you. Jackson said everyone down there uses something, and the cops don’t care unless you’re dealing.”

  “How did he know that?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. He said he’d been there before.”

  “What were you going to do for money?”

  “I don’t know. Tend bar. Do odd jobs. Jackson’s said that there’s a lot of plant nurseries on the island and they always need workers. And besides…”

  “‘Besides’ what?”

  “Nothing.”

  White scowled and slapped the table. “‘Besides’ what, David!”

  “Jackson said he was going to be getting some money from his father. It had something to do with Jackson not talking about some deal his father was involved in.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “I don’t exactly know. Something about an arrangement he had for getting people out of jail.”

  “Is that all.”

  “It’s all I remember. We were pretty wasted, and I wasn’t paying attention.”

  As David spoke, Horse returned to the room, whispered something in White’s ear and reclaimed his seat at the side of the table. White flipped through the case file until he found Harris’s notes of his meeting with Lou Hamilton. He ran his finger down the page until he found what he was searching for. “Lou Hamilton says neither Shepard and Jackson had been around until they moved in three months ago.” White slid the file in front of Horse and tapped his finger on the relevant notation.

  Horse glanced at the file and began to rummage through the notes from his meeting at the Shipwreck Bar.

  “What drugs did you have in Matlacha?”

  David’s lips quivered as he began to speak, then closed as he seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say.

  White and Horse exchanged knowing glances. The interview had followed a familiar pattern from vigorous objection to submission.

  David returned his attention to his now empty can of orange soda. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I had some grass… and maybe a little hash.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “I still had a stash from when we were in the Keys.”

  “Where did you get the cocaine?”

  “I told you. I don’t know anything about that. We never had that stuff in the house.”

  “But you did distribute cocaine.”

  Shepard responded with an explosive, “I didn’t know there was any cocaine!” A moment later his statement was followed by, “I swear,” uttered in a pleading voice that was barely more than a whisper.

  White ignored Shepard’s outburst and walked to the end of the room, his back to Shepard. “Start from the beginning. What were you doing in Matlacha?”

  “We were just laying low. Sometimes a guy gave Jackson some instructions.”

  “That would be the guy in the blue Porsche?” White was only guessing, but it seemed logical.

  Shepard’s head snapped up; his eyes filled with fear. It wasn’t merely a fear of White. His whole body tensed as if he was getting ready to make a run for safety. His eyes searched for a place to hide.

  “Don’t bother denying it, David. We already know about him.”

  Shepard shook his head as though he could still not believe what was happening. “Oh, man.”

  “What’s his name, the man with the Porsche?”

  “I don’t know. I never talked to him.”

  “What did Jackson call him?”

/>   “I never heard him call the guy by name. But he referred to him as the Cambodian.”

  “What kind of instructions did the guy give you?”

  Shepard hung his head and ran the fingers of both hands through his shaggy hair. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  “Who did?”

  “Tom.”

  “Tom Jackson?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And what did you do after Jackson talked to him?”

  “We went to some place where they had a boat. We took the boat to where the guy told Tom to go and picked up a package floating in the water.”

  “How did the package get there?”

  Shepard threw up his hands. “How the hell should I know? What difference does it make?”

  White ignored Shepard’s outburst. “David, at this point I don’t know what is and isn’t important. But any detail, no matter how trivial you may think it is, could become important. Do you understand me?”

  Shepard gave an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  “Good. Now, how long did it take to get to where the package was floating.”

  “Three or four hours. It took a while, maybe half-hour, to get to open water. Then we ran for a couple of hours out into the Gulf.”

  “Could you see land.”

  “Sometimes we ran north along the coast, but a long way out. Sometimes we went straight out to sea.”

  “What kind of boat was it?”

  “Just a recreational fishing boat? Center console. T-top. That kind of boat.

  “How big was the boat?

  “Twenty-five, maybe thirty feet. But it was fast… really fast. It had three big outboards. Tom said the boat could do eighty.”

  “Were there any other boats around?”

  “There were some other boats at the pier where we got the boat.”

  “What about when you were at sea?”

  “I never saw any.”

  “Did you ever hear an airplane?”

  “No.”

  “How did you find the package?”

  “We had GPS coordinates, and the package had a small radio transmitter.”

  “What did you do with the package?”

  “Tom put it somewhere in the cabin.”

  “What cabin?”

  “The cabin where the boat was.”

  “What did the cabin look like?”

  “I don’t know. It was dark, and I never went inside.”

  “It couldn’t have been that dark.”

  “Well, it was. We only went out on moonless nights.”

  “Do you know where the place was?”

  “No. The guy with the Porsche always drove, and, like I said, it was always dark.”

  “How far from Matlacha was the cabin?”

  “I don’t know. An hour and a half. Maybe two hours. We went somewhere down the interstate, then down some other highway to a dirt road. That’s all I know.”

  “How long were you on the interstate? Did you pass anything you knew or recognized? How long were you on the other highway and the dirt road?”

  “Damn it. I don’t know any of that. I was usually stuck in the back of the Porsche, and I couldn’t always see out.”

  “Tell me about the man with the blue Porsche.”

  A long moment passed before Shepard responded. “I don’t know anything about him.”

  “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything.”

  Shepard stared at the table and clasped his hands to control their shaking.

  “David,” White prodded again.

  “He’ll kill me,” Shepard said softly.

  “What?”

  Shepard slammed his hand on the table. “I said, ‘He’ll kill me!’”

  “Who will kill you?”

  “The guy in the Porsche — the Cambodian. He was constantly reminding us that people who crossed his boss had a way of winding up dead.”

  “Are you sure he referred to his boss.”

  “Absolutely. But he also scared the shit out of me. I’m sure he was capable of killing Tom and me if he felt like it.”

  “Did you get the feeling that he could do anything to you on his own?”

  “I don’t know. No. I don’t think so.”

  “Which is it, David?”

  “I’m sure he could, but I don’t think he would. I’m pretty sure someone else ran the operation. But if we crossed him personally, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill us.”

  “Not if we stop him first.”

  “You can’t.” Shepard’s voice now had the plaintive quality of a lost and frightened child.

  “Why not?”

  Shepard shook his head, and his breathing raced. His anxiety continued to build as his head sank to his hands.

  “David?”

  Shepard’s head jerked up and stared at White. His eyes were cold and hard when he said, “Because he’s connected to the government.”

  White hid his surprise by looking at his legal pad and pretending to study his notes. “How do you know that?”

  “Jackson told me.”

  “Exactly what did Jackson tell you?”

  “He said we were safe because the guy is connected to the government prosecutors.”

  “What kind of connection does he have?”

  “I don’t know. Tom just said we didn’t have to worry about anything as long as we did what the guy said.”

  White looked up from his notes. “What makes you think you’d be killed if you crossed the man with the Porsche?”

  “Because that’s what happens. The guy with the Porsche takes care of anyone who knows too much.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Cause I saw him stick a knife in some guy down in the Keys. That’s when we figured we had to get out of there.”

  White scribbled some notes on his pad as he tried to make sense out of David’s latest revelation.

  “When did this happen?”

  “I don’t know. A couple of months ago. During the last hurricane.”

  “Why were you there?”

  “Why was I where?”

  “Why were you there when the stabbing took place?”

  Shepard took a deep breath before continuing. “We were supposed to meet a boat and pick up a package. But a hurricane was coming through, and the captain of the boat we were going to use wouldn’t go out. Somehow, they contacted the boat we were going to meet, and it came into the harbor. That’s when the guy on the boat was knifed.”

  White glanced at Horse and Harris. Both responded with a nod and added notes to their case ‘to-do’ lists.

  #

  White left the remainder of the interview of David Shepard up to Horse and Harry and went to his office to meet with Brochette. Brochette stood as White entered.

  “Sit down, Graham. We have to talk.”

  Brochette hesitated. White’s words were not those that were cause for joy. Slowly Brochette sank onto the sofa where he had been sitting. White sat on the arm of the sofa.

  “David seems to think his life is in danger.”

  Brochette clenched both fists and looked away. “What can I do about it?”

  “You can’t do anything about it. What you can do… what you have to do… is let me do what I think needs to be done.”

  Brochette took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “What are you planning?”

  “I’m not just planning. I’ve already arranged for security at your home.”

  “Okay. Why would I have any concern about that?”

  White paused, giving Brochette time to prepare himself for bad news. “You’ll be under the protection of Manuel Rodriguez.”

  Brochette surged to his feet. “Absolutely not! I cannot, and I will not, have a felon providing security for my son.” Brochette strode authoritatively across the room and leaned forward with both arms against the conference table. “No way.”

  White watched and waited calmly as Brochette vented his feelings. “Are you finished?”
r />   Brochette didn’t move, and spoke very softly when he said, “Yes.”

  “This is the way it has to be. David is a suspect in a major felony. You can’t very well use anyone in law enforcement to provide him with protection. And I’m sure you can’t afford to provide him with the protection he needs.”

  “But you’re making me indebted to a felon!”

  “Accused felon. He’s never been convicted of anything.”

  “That’s only because he’s been represented by you.”

  “And he’s doing this because I’m asking him to. I just expect you to make sure the police know that Rodriguez’s men are there to provide protection and shouldn’t be harassed.”

  “I can’t control what the police do.”

  “Of course you can. And don’t forget that your son’s life may depend on you.”

  12.

  After Brochette and Shepard had gone, White took his accustomed place at the side of the conference table in the War Room and began, “What else do you have, Horse?”

  Before Horse could speak, Harry’s pen flew across the table.

  “All right. What the hell is going on, Harry?” White’s voice was a mixture of concern and accusation. “That was the fourth time in as many days that you dropped your pen. And you dropped your coffee cup the day before that.”

  “I guess I’m just turning into a klutz,” Harris said, forcing a smile that didn’t hide the anxiety in his eyes.

  “When are you going to see the doctor?” White’s tone was more demanding than he intended.

  “I have an appointment this afternoon,” Harris retorted. “Now can we get on with this?”

  White gave Harris a final look of concern before nodding for Horse to continue.

  Horse began to flip through his notes. “Jackson’s from West Palm Beach. He has a degree in business from Florida Atlantic, but just barely. He was more interested in partying and doing drugs than going to class. He spent half his time on academic probation.”

  “Does Jackson have any record?”

  “He was arrested for possession of heroin when he was in college. He was represented by an attorney from West Palm Beach named Richard Barlow. Barlow negotiated the charges down to simple possession. Jackson got probation on a suspended sentence. He was picked up a couple of times in the Keys, but he was never formally charged with anything. He’d get held overnight, then released.”

  “That’s all.”