Muzzled

by David Rosenfelt

  “Like I said, I really don’t remember. It could have been, but if it was, that wouldn’t have been anywhere near the first time. He didn’t have a full understanding of what was necessary to bring a drug to market, financially and research-wise.”

  “But you do?”

  “Not completely. I only know my own area. Stephen Mellman understood the financial end, and he and I tried to get Robert to be patient. It wasn’t easy for him; he had an idea that he thought could help millions of suffering people, and we were telling him how much time it was going to take. I understood his frustration, but I deal in the reality.”

  “Join the club.”

  “Why are you so interested in Robert’s drug idea?”

  “Because there was no filing cabinet in your closet.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod. “I can spot a filing cabinet at fifty feet. Was there anything else in there that could have had this kind of value?”

  “No, just work papers, and copies at that. It had to be Robert’s work that they wanted.”

  As I leave, I take a wild shot in the dark. “Does the name Victor mean anything to you?”

  “No. Who is he?”

  “Just another question to be answered.”

  Sam gets basically nowhere with Big Tony’s phone.

  A number of calls were made to a burner phone that we assume to be Victor’s, and they line up pretty well with the dates of the boat explosion and the murder of Carla D’Antoni.

  Unfortunately, that burner phone has been either discarded or destroyed, and the only calls it had ever received were from Big Tony. It had never made any outgoing calls and did not have a GPS in it.

  Victor, assuming he exists and that is his name, appears to walk on the smart side of the street. I doubt that’s where he ran into Big Tony.

  I need to learn more about him, or at least about the possibility of him. Corey Douglas is good friends with Lieutenant Romeo Guttierez of the New Jersey State Police, and Corey has set up this meeting for me. Lieutenant Guttierez’s area of expertise is organized crime in northern New Jersey, and he has proven fairly effective in attacking it.

  “Corey says you’re a pain in the ass.” As icebreakers go, Guttierez’s could use some work.

  “Yet he worships the ground I walk on.”

  “That’s not how he describes it. But he asked me to talk to you, so talk.”

  “I have reason to believe that someone who talks with an accent, maybe Russian, maybe Ukrainian, maybe whatever, is using Joseph Russo, Jr.’s men with the full cooperation of Joseph Russo, Jr.”

  “Do you know the someone’s name?”

  “Victor. Hopefully you know him? Maybe double-dated with him in high school?”

  Guttierez shakes his head. “Never heard of him. What is he using Russo’s men for?”

  “Murders. At least three and counting.”

  That gets his attention. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

  “Let’s start with whether it makes sense that Russo would hand over his people to anyone.”

  “Depends on the money involved. It would take a lot.”

  “It feels like there’s money all over this thing.”

  “My bet is on Victor being Russian.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re being invaded. The Russian Mafia decided a few years ago that there were a limited number of rubles to steal over there, plus they had to share it with members of the government. So they decided this was the promised land.

  “They brought seed money with them, and that was perfect timing. Because organized crime here hit a money crunch, and Russo’s family happens to be the crunchiest. So it wouldn’t surprise me if they sought outside funding, and the Russians have it big-time.”

  “So how does this work?”

  “Think of it as a big business.… They want to expand into new markets, so they buy their way in. Take Amazon as an example. They wanted to become a grocery chain, but they didn’t start a business and build stores. They bought Whole Foods, and, presto, they’re in. Then they start giving out discounts, and pretty soon my wife is feeding me kale. But that’s another story.”

  “So the Russians are buying Russo’s business?”

  Guttierez shakes his head. “Not yet. First they link up with him; they pay him for his people. Then when they’re entrenched, with all their money Russo’s people become theirs, and Russo either goes along or follows his father to the promised land.”

  I describe in the barest terms the situation with Robert Giarrusso’s drug and ask if that is the kind of business the Russians might be interested in getting into.

  “Doesn’t sound like it. But if the money is big enough, you never know.”

  I thank Guttierez and ask him if I can come back with more questions, should they come up.

  “Sure. And if you find out more about this Victor, definitely come back. If he is actually Russian Mafia, you do not want to deal with him.”

  “He’s dangerous; I hear you.”

  “Dangerous doesn’t go near it. These people make Russo and his guys look like a charm-school class.”

  I’m spending so much time at Pharmacon, they’re going to give me a gold watch.

  I need to know more about drugs, and except for Pharmacon, my only connection to the industry is buying Aleve at Walgreens. But I buy a lot of it; lawyering gives me a headache.

  My first stop is Eric Buckner, the CEO. I don’t have anything to talk to him about, but he’s the head guy, so I think it’s right to tell him I’m still hanging around.

  “If it’ll help Alex Vogel, go for it,” he says.

  Going for it means talking to two executives that I’ve already met with. The first is Gerald Bennings, the CFO and former boss of one of the murder victims, Stephen Mellman.

  “You’re back,” he says, when I barge in on him.

  “That would be tough to deny.”

  “I’m pretty busy. Can we do this quickly?”

  I nod. “We can. Here’s a hypothetical. There’s an idea for a new drug, potentially revolutionary. Someone steals it, and—”

  “In this hypothetical, was it patented?”

  “No.”

  He frowns. “Stupid.” Then, “Go on.”

  “Once it was stolen, for it to realize its value, it would have to come to market in a normal manner, wouldn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean testing, FDA approval, that process. It could never be mass marketed any other way, could it?”

  “No, that’s the only way I know of, if they want to make real money. Some black-market presence wouldn’t do it.”

  “So they would have to raise money?”

  He shrugs. “They’d have to spend money. I don’t know about raising it; they might already have it. Depends on the company.”

  “So it could go through an existing company or start-up?”

  He nods. “Right.”

  “Can that be done in any kind of secrecy?”

  “Only up to a point. Once they started their testing protocol, it would involve doctors, hospitals, labs … pretty hard to keep that a secret.”

  “Would it come up on your radar?”

  “Me personally? Only if they were out there raising money. Then I would definitely hear about it, or I wasn’t doing my job. If they didn’t raise money, then I imagine Jordan Tucker would be the one to talk to.”

  I nod. “I’m bothering him next.” I met with Tucker previously as well; he’s the scientist who was Robert Giarrusso’s boss. Before I go, I ask the question I ask everybody: “Have you heard the name Victor? Maybe someone you know through business?”

  He thinks for a moment. “No.”

  Victor obviously does not get around much.

  I stop in next at Jordan Tucker’s office. He looks at his watch and tells me he’s busy and could I hurry it up.

  With cell phones proliferating and telling time, I think the main reason to own a watch these days is as
a way to show someone that you have little time for them. Looking at a cell phone doesn’t convey the same message; the person you’re trying to get rid of might think you’re just reading a text or an email.

  Jordan agrees that he’d be the one most likely to know about a revolutionary new drug, but that nothing in recent weeks seems to fit that bill. I ask him to keep his eyes out for one, specifically an Alzheimer’s drug, and he looks at me like I’m an idiot, but agrees as a way to get me out of his office.

  Then he checks his watch again, just in case he forgot what it said a minute ago.

  I’m out of here.

  It was a beautiful spring day. Very little wind, no chance of rain.

  A perfect day to be out on a boat, in the ocean.

  Norman Trell begins his opening statement to the jury this way. He’s setting the idyllic scene before transitioning to what everyone in the courtroom knows is the horror to come.

  “The defendant, Alex Vogel, owned a boat that he kept on Long Beach Island, New Jersey. There will be testimony that he used it fairly often, basically every weekend that the weather permitted. So it was no surprise to anyone that he was going out on the water that day.

  “There will also be testimony that he was accompanied by two other people, business colleagues of his. Their names were Stephen Mellman and Robert Giarrusso. There is no evidence that they had been on the defendant’s boat before; they may have been, but we just don’t know.

  “Yes, I will be the first to admit that there are things we don’t know. For another example, we know that they were arguing about something as they boarded the boat, but we don’t know what the argument was about.

  “That’s what happens in situations like this. Three people were there; now two are dead and the person who killed them is the only one who knows all the details. But that’s all they are … details. We know more than enough to see the big picture.

  “One thing we do know for sure is that it was the last time Stephen Mellman and Robert Giarrusso were on Alex Vogel’s boat. That is because an explosion completely destroyed it. They were no doubt killed instantly, and their bodies were never found. They were lost at sea.

  “But Alex Vogel did not die that day; he is sitting right here. Alex Vogel left that boat before the explosion; testimony will explain how he did that. But did he come forward after his apparent brush with death and tell what happened? Did he report that his friends had died on his boat? No, he stayed hidden, and to this day has not spoken to the police.

  “There is something called consciousness of guilt. That is a legal term, and it will be explained to you. But basically it means that someone acted as if guilty, and the judge will tell you that you consider it as you would circumstantial evidence. Alex Vogel did that in spades.

  “There is also additional forensic evidence which will contribute to what is proof beyond a reasonable doubt that Alex Vogel deliberately and with premeditation turned that beautiful day on the ocean into a nightmare of death.

  “You don’t have to take my word for it, nor should you. Mr. Carpenter and I are advocates; nothing we say is actual evidence. But you will get to hear and see the actual evidence, and I have no doubt you will come to the conclusion that Alex Vogel is guilty as charged.

  “Thank you.”

  Judge Mahomes asks me if I want to give my statement now or hold it until the start of the defense case. I never defer; this is not like winning the toss at the beginning of a football game. I want to get on the record now that we have a case, and that we will be a force to be reckoned with.

  Trell’s style is to stand behind a podium and speak from there; mine is to walk around. I feel like I make a connection with the jury that way, and it also gives me my only chance to exercise.

  We spent a day and a half picking the jury, and I have no idea how well we did. I won’t know for sure until they deliver their verdict, but either way it’s too late to do anything about it now.

  This jury consists of seven women and five men. There are five Caucasians, five Hispanics, and two African Americans. The one thing that they all have in common is that they couldn’t figure out a way to get out of jury duty.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like you to imagine a situation I sincerely hope you will never be in. Someone has just tried to kill you, and in the process killed two of your friends. You escaped because you were lucky, and you were smart.

  “But you saw the brutality, and you know that it is you that they were really after. What do you do?

  “Well, the smart thing is to go to the police. But what if you think they can’t protect you? What if you know who is after you, and know that they have the resources and the ruthlessness to come after you again and again until they succeed in killing you?

  “Is it so crazy to think that in a situation like that you might hide? And if the world thinks you had died, and more importantly if the killers think you had died, wouldn’t you want to keep them thinking that until you could figure out what to do?

  “If you were panicked and afraid, isn’t it possible you might make a bad decision? Or maybe try and buy time until you could make a good one?

  “Alex Vogel is a successful businessman. Mr. Trell will not point to any previous violence in his life because there hasn’t been any. He has always been a respected member of society.

  “He’s given his time and money to countless charitable causes to make our city and our country a better place. He is a veteran who saw combat and was honored for his efforts. None of us have led perfect lives, but Alex Vogel has come closer than most.

  “Does it make sense that he would suddenly commit two violent murders and then try and disappear, thereby throwing away everything he had worked so hard for?

  “Why? Why would he do that? Maybe Mr. Trell will give us that answer, and we can all wait for him to do that. But I’m betting he doesn’t.

  “The reason he won’t is because no such answer exists. Mr. Vogel is a victim here, first of an attempted murder, and then of a justice system that took the easy route rather than seeking true justice.

  “I asked you to imagine yourself in the situation I described. You might have come to a different decision than Mr. Vogel, but your job is not to judge whether he made the correct one. It is to decide if he took the life of his two friends and then effectively ended the life he took so long to build … his own life.

  “When you came into this courtroom you brought your common sense with you. I simply ask that you use it. Thank you.”

  Ruth Radford started feeling ill around 6:00 P.M.

  It began as a slight headache and a low-grade fever; chills and vomiting began about an hour later. Her husband, Glenn, offered to take her to the emergency room, but she declined. She figured it was just the flu, even though she had gotten her flu shot as the doctor recommended.

  By 11:00 P.M. she had gotten much worse, and in the intervening hours, in another upsetting development, Glenn started to experience similar symptoms.

  At 3:30 A.M., Glenn decided they needed to get to a hospital. He still felt capable of driving, but he did not know how long that would last. An ambulance was obviously a possibility, but Glenn wanted to get them there himself.

  They made it to the small, local hospital, and the emergency-room physician, Dr. Roland Meekins, saw immediately that the situation was urgent. Both of the Radfords had fevers in excess of 103, and Ruth Radford was becoming delirious.

  Dr. Meekins began administering antibiotics to the Radfords, then drew blood and called Strickland Labs in Monticello, just eight miles away. He reached the lab director, Allen Julian, at home. He had met Julian on a number of occasions, including once since Julian had taken over the top position after the untimely death of his boss, Jeremy Bowers.

  Julian agreed to rush into the lab and do an immediate culture on the blood sample that Meekins was having messengered over. Julian did so, and he delivered shocking news. The Radfords had contracted Diveria aureus.

  Diveria aureus, Julian knew,
was one of the new breed of antibiotic-resistant superbugs that was striking fear into medical scientists all over the world. He knew of only a few cases in the United States, but was aware that a drug was currently being tested to deal with it.

  That drug was in advanced testing, and the protocol allowed Julian and the attending physicians to acquire it and administer it. So Julian called the company, Pharmacon, and apprised them of the emergency. Per the protocol, the company agreed to get the drug, Loraxil, there as fast as humanly possible.

  Loraxil had been in Phase 3 testing for six months, and Pharmacon had presented impressive test results to the FDA, but more work and testing was still to be done. The company was hopeful, but the FDA was not yet granting permission to go forward. The FDA was being careful and could take time since no pressing medical need had to be met.

  Both Julian and Pharmacon, having put this in motion, then called the CDC, which sprang into action and sent one of its scientists to examine the Strickland Labs sample and culture, to make sure that proper procedures were being followed. The FDA also sent its people to the lab and hospital to deal with what was obviously an urgent matter.

  Within six hours the experimental Pharmacon drug, Loraxil, was in the hands of Meekins and his colleagues. Four hours after that, it became clear that the drug was working, the Radfords were showing some improvement.

  The government scientists arriving at Strickland Labs confirmed that Julian had correctly conducted the cultures and that the Radfords’ blood samples were positive for Diveria aureus.

  By the next morning the Radfords had made a dramatic recovery and were deemed out of danger.

  The Pharmacon drug, Loraxil, had done its magic.

  Trell’s first witness is Detective Sergeant Mike Gerdes, a New Jersey State Police homicide detective.

  Trell quickly establishes date and time, then asks Gerdes how he first learned about the boat explosion.

  “I was in my office and we received a call from the Coast Guard about the reported incident.”

  “Who reported it to them?”