Mario walked the room like a high-powered attorney in a murder trial. “Can the ink on the emails be traced?”
“Sure, it’s an HP laser printer,” Ralph said. “Might take a while, probably fifty thousand in the city.”
“So the answer is no.” Mario paced more.
Howard circled an entire paragraph and passed it to Mario. All the answers were found in one email instructing Roberto to make the drop at the House of God on Lee Circle, Ignatius Green’s church.
“Holy crap!” Mario said. “The mayor’s campaign is funded with a payoff from the mob through donations to the church. Pastor Green is the bag man.”
Daylight broke through the window, making them realize they had worked through the night. Coffee, breakfast, and a shower were needed by all before they could package a solid case to present to District Attorney Gilbert James.
Mario was preparing to leave when Ralph reminded him of an appointment to see a house that afternoon. Knowing Mario was busy with the mayor issue, Ralph suggested he’d go alone and take pictures. Mario agreed.
“You’re buying a house?” Howard asked, as the elevator expressed to the lobby.
“Maybe,” Mario said.
After a quick shower, the detectives met at an IHOP for a stack of pancakes. Mario called the chief and was to meet her within an hour. It would all depend on him selling her on the takedown of the mayor. Without the chief’s support, Gilbert wouldn’t consider the information coming from Mario a second time.
They hashed over an idea and agreed it could work. A stop at Gustavo Martino’s office started the plan in motion. He saw them without an appointment.
There wasn’t a lot of time, so Howard let Mario do all the talking. Gustavo sat back in his chair, all ears, his hands in prayer mode under his chin. Mario was sure the information was being considered.
Gustavo stood, came around the front of his desk, and leaned into Mario’s face. “Something doesn’t smell right. You put the fee up for Jay, and now you want to cut a deal to get him off with no time served?”
“Self-defense,” Mario said.
Gustavo laughed. “I have to sell the jury on it first.”
“My way, you don’t even have to go to court.” Mario got eye to eye with him. “And you get to keep a big fat fee for doing just about nothing.”
“That’s my point. It smells like a setup. Maybe get me on corruption?”
Mario was losing the battle. They’d hated each other for years. He’d lock gangsters up, and Gustavo would do what high-powered attorneys did—confuse the jury until there was reasonable doubt. His clients never served time.
Silence hung over the room.
“You can talk to my client, but I’m going to be present.”
Mario agreed, and they were off to Central Lockup.
Jay came down to the interview room in shackles and was released to the detectives. Gustavo asked for the handcuffs to be removed, but the guard refused. The room was private with a guard stationed outside the door.
Mario kept his voice just above a whisper. His opening words got Jay’s attention. “I have a way for you to walk out of here a free man.”
Jay didn’t have to reply. His eyes sparkled with a willingness to follow Mario’s directions. Once the plan was discussed, Jay agreed to have his statement on film and signed an agreement.
In the end, Gustavo shook Mario’s hand. “You must really believe in this guy.”
Mario gave a nod. “Sometimes you have to revert to street justice.”
On the way to police headquarters, Howard came up with an idea. Mario moved on it quickly and called Ralph. A second copy of the emails was printed, except for the dialog between Wallace and who he thought was Roberto the day before.
On the way to police headquarters, Mario pulled curbside at One Shell Square and met Ralph. He handed Mario a greasy, stained Burger King bag and off Mario went to see the chief.
Jay’s statement was short, but to the point, and it was all the chief needed to hear. She pulled a few emails from the nasty Burger King bag and read them. Then she buzzed her assistant. “Call Gilbert James. Tell him to make himself available—I’m on my way.”
“Yes, madam chief,” she replied.
She would give the DA a chance to decide, if not her next stop was the attorney general.
Gilbert reviewed the video, looked through the emails, and leaned back in his chair. Mario looked at his watch and peeked at Howard. Time was running out, and they had to make a move for this to play out positively for Jay.
“Let me be clear in my understanding.” Gilbert pulled his chair closer to the desk. “Leon Mason gave these emails to Jay to hold.”
“Correct,” Mario replied.
“But we don’t know how Leon got them.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mario said straight-faced. “The emails are time-stamped and incriminating to both Roberto Ferrari and Wallace Jackson.”
“And how did this come about?”
“Gustavo learned about it while prepping his client and called me,” Mario said.
“Gustavo. There’s no love between him and this office.”
“I know, sir,” Howard spoke up. “I’m not a fan either. Jay directed us to the Burger King bag—it was recovered in the exact location he testified.”
Gilbert stood looking out the window at downtown New Orleans. Nothing said was a good sign that meant he was considering. He pulled a few sheets of coffee-stained emails from the bag.
Mario didn’t dare look at Howard. He was sure Howard thought the same. Ralph had done a great job making the paper look worn and like it had been stashed in a damp hiding place for some time.
“Gustavo is demanding leniency for his client, Jay Adams,” Mario said.
“If it leads to the arrest of the mayor, I’ll consider.” He threw the papers back into the nasty bag. “What do you want from me?”
Those were the magic words Mario had waited to hear. “I need a court order for the host to turn over all communications from Mayor Jackson’s personal emails.”
Gilbert directed Pamela Jones to go with the paperwork in hand to the judge’s chambers for a signature. The detectives followed Pamela and snatched the signed subpoena from her hands when she stepped out of the judge’s chambers.
“Thank you!” Mario said, all but running to the car.
They arrived at Olivia’s office with the subpoena for her to start the process. The procedure was slow and based on the cooperation of the email provider. The DA’s request was for all correspondence in the last sixty days. Olivia’s experience working with providers for that much information would take a week or more for the results.
Mario’s expression indicated he didn’t have time to wait.
She asked, “What do you want from me?”
“Your friend at the FBI,” Mario said. “I need an email the mayor sent yesterday.”
“Only one?” she asked with some question in her mind. “Sounds like you already know what’s in the correspondence.”
“Olivia!” he said, head down gathering his thoughts for the correct way to phrase his request. “I don’t have time for fifty questions. Make the call.”
She huffed and mumbled under her breath, “You always need things done—in a hurry. Get a cup of coffee. I’ll have something for you before you’re finished.”
The detectives followed her direction and took a seat in the breakroom. It wasn’t the best coffee, but caffeine was needed by both. They sipped and watched the clock tick. Time wasn’t on their side, the rendezvous for the money drop was fast approaching.
As promised, Olivia returned quickly with three emails between Mayor Jackson and Roberto Ferrari. “I’m not going to ask how you knew about these emails.”
“Good, then don’t,” he said.
With the evidence in hand, he and Howard rushed back to headquarters and presented the findings to the chief. It was a long process to get to the same point they were at eighteen hours earlier, but now every
thing was legal and would hold up in court.
The chief ordered fifty thousand in cash from the evidence room, packaged in a small canvas bag. She agreed to Mario’s suggestion of a bag man. An undercover agent, Nico Dimitriou, a long-time police officer, was selected. He pulled off being an Italian mob guy despite his Greek heritage. He was briefed as fast as Mario could talk on every possible question that might be asked of Roberto’s bag man.
Nico was fitted for a mic. An argument broke out when the chief wanted to use a bulky police monitor taped to his inner thigh. Nico made some remark that the equipment was as old as the chief and if searched it’d kill him.
The quarreling continued, and Mario stepped in. “I don’t care what device you use, but we have to go—now.”
Nico put his coat on, holstered his gun, and grabbed the bag of money.
“What the hell,” Chief Parks said. “You walking in with a piece strapped to your chest?”
“I’m a wise guy. I’m expected to have a weapon.” She got a nasty look from him.
They had fifteen minutes to get to Lee Circle. The DA was already in place with police backup.
In the parking garage, Nico got in a town car that Howard supplied. He played the part excellently.
The chief leaned into Mario’s car window. “How the hell did you come up with the email—so quickly?”
“Olivia ran yesterday’s emails between Roberto and Wallace.” Mario didn’t blink.
“That’s my point. How did you pull out of your ass to look at those emails? Why not a week ago, a month, why yesterday?”
“Lucky guess,” Mario said, and stepped on the gas.
Chapter 34
At 3:03 P.M., Nico walked up to the steps of the House of God carrying the canvas bag. It was an impressive house of worship that Pastor Green had built from a tiny, four-pew, wood structure in New Orleans twenty-five years ago. He was met by a man who appeared to expect him. Nico thought, big son-of-a-bitch. A broke ex-football player working to intimidate for a payday. Didn’t matter. Nico had already determined how to take him down when the guy favored his right knee.
“I’m Nico. Roberto sent me.”
Across the street, the surveillance team, Mario, and Howard listened in. A thumbs-up between the detectives brought a smile. It had been a long struggle to this point.
“I’ll take it from here,” the man said, reaching for the bag.
The sting was calculated, down to every possible response. Nico pulled a picture of Pastor Green from his coat.
“Are you Ignatius Green?” Nico asked, with the picture in the guy’s face. “Don’t look like him. I’ll see Ignatius, or I walk. And the donation goes with me.”
He made an angry face. Behind a closed door for a minute, then he opened it and waved Nico through. Inside was another big guy and behind a desk was Ignatius Green.
Draped in an expensive suit, a gold Rolex extended beyond the shirt cuff purposely. It was apparent he preached that “the more you give, the more you receive.”
“Nico, don’t be offended,” Ignatius said, with a nod at the two men.
His jacket was taken off, gun removed. Apparently the weapon didn’t bother them. Frisked up one leg and down the other. Then Ignatius gave another hand motion to his men and his shirt was neatly unbuttoned.
Nico alerted his team. “You think I’d put a mic on my chest?”
In the truck, Mario got everyone prepared and moved some foot cops closer to the front of the church.
Nico stood, shirt blowing open from the air-conditioning vent overhead.
“What are you looking for?” Nico put them on the defense.
Ignatius was fired up. He said that this was the third drop, and he was pissed that Nico asked to see him directly. The only good part was that if the transmitter was working, he’d just admitted to accepting money twice before.
“Where is Michael Ferrari?” he shouted, slamming his fist on the desk.
In the truck, Mario’s head was spinning out of control. “Come on. I told you about Michael. Oh, man! We needed more time to plan this. The wrong answer and Nico’s dead.”
“With all due respect, pastor, Michael Ferrari was killed about a week ago.”
Mario’s heart went back to regular repetitions.
“I knew Michael was dead. I just didn’t know who you were.” Ignatius motioned for Nico’s shirt to come off. “Maybe you’re a cop.”
Nico held his arms up. “Hold on, I didn’t know it was that kind of meeting. Here, let me help.” Nico took his shirt off and threw it on the desk. Then he unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants to the floor.
In the truck, Mario took a breather. “Thank Christ, the chief didn’t win the mic fight.”
“Where the hell is it?” Howard asked.
“Inside his belt. He insisted on using his equipment or he’d not do the sting.”
Nico got dressed, put his holster back on, and tucked in his shirt. He threw the bag on the desk. “Count the money. Somehow you don’t look like the trusting type.”
Back in the truck, Howard was waiting for the word to send in the troops and make an arrest. Mario held off giving the go-ahead—he’d like more to seal Ignatius’s involvement.
“Who cares how much is in the bag? A donation is never questioned,” Ignatius said, but unzipped the bag anyway. A peek inside and he fingered through the bundles. “Is this a joke?”
An uneasiness came over Nico. He was told that the money wasn’t going to be an issue. “What’s the problem?”
“Ten, short-stack bundles,” Ignatius’s eyes lifted. “Fifty grand wasn’t the agreement.”
Nico had him talking. It was dangerous if he ran with his guy—he did anyway. “It’s all Roberto is willing to pay.”
In the surveillance van, Howard pushed. “Let’s take him down. You said yourself the amount didn’t matter”
Mario waved him off. “The preacher is about to dig himself a deeper hole.”
Then Ignatius blew up. “The final payment was to be one hundred thousand dollars.”
“Take it up with Roberto.”
Ignatius pulled a gun from his desk drawer. “Or maybe you took out a little taste for yourself.”
Nico spoke loudly, making sure the mic picked up every word, “No need for a gun, pastor.”
“We have enough.” Mario reached for his radio. “Take him down.”
Without hesitation, a SWAT team of four entered the church. With high-powered rifles extended, they scanned their path and converged on the back office and took down Pastor Ignatius Green and his two bodyguards.
At city hall, District Attorney Gilbert James and Chief Parks made a career decision and arrested Mayor Wallace Jackson in a city council meeting. He didn’t go willingly.
Chapter 35
Two weeks later Wallace Jackson was back in court with his attorney, who wasn’t Gustavo Martino, his first choice. When Gustavo was contacted, Wallace was told it would be a conflict of interest for him to take on the ex-mayor’s case. A promise Gustavo made when Mario laid out the plan to take down the mayor. The last thing Mario wanted was for Wallace to hire the number-one trial attorney in the South. He’d have to settle for number two, but most attorneys and judges felt no one was a close second. No one could match trial banter, confuse the English languish, take the untruths and make them believable, and jumble the jurors’ minds into reasonable doubt better than Gustavo.
Mario and Howard stood in the back of the packed courtroom and watched the circus unfold. The room filled with media, supporters, and haters. The hatred carried by many represented years of corrupt politicians in a city they loved.
The judge threw out the request by a team of lawyers representing Wallace to suppress the last email sent by Roberto. Roberto was dead at the time, and the email should not be allowed in evidence.
The judge’s speech was brief and covered facts about organized crime leaders. There’s always someone in line to take over if a mafia boss goes down. It didn’t ma
tter who Wallace thought he was dealing with, Wallace acted and followed through with obstruction of justice and taking a bribe to favor a city contract. Ordering the bomb that killed Truman was an additional charge by the FBI and would be heard in federal court. It was just the beginning of legal problems for the former mayor.
“The emails will stay in as evidence,” the judge said, and slammed his gavel.
The same day, on the courthouse steps, Gustavo Martino held a press conference with his client, Jay Adams. He thanked DA Gilbert James for reviewing new information brought forward proving Jay had acted in self-defense in the shooting that took Barry’s life. Jay was a free man.
Mario and Howard watched from the bottom of the steps behind cameras, listening to Gustavo Martino grandstand. It was no doubt a satisfying moment to see Jay walk and the real criminal, Wallace Jackson, fight for his life.
Wallace Jackson received perks for his testimony. He said that he paid Leon Mason to only set a smoke bomb under Mario’s car to scare him. There was no intent on his part to kill anyone. The tactic was meant to get Mario’s attention and have him stop fighting the casino bill, which Wallace desperately needed. It was Leon who decided to mix the chemicals to cause a small fire that should have given the driver time to get out, so he said, when he planted the device. The result of Truman Burnett’s death was devastating to Wallace, and he even let a few tears show during the testimony.
The DA went along with the deceitful statement. It closed the case on Truman, and Wallace would never see the outside of a jail for the rest of his life anyway.
In New Orleans, the vice mayor was automatically put in place as acting mayor until the end of the year. In November, an election would be held to vote in a mayor for a four-year term.
Much like the vice president of the United States steps in immediately if the president cannot perform his duties, Garrett Chadwick was sworn in as mayor of New Orleans. Garrett had had his eye on city hall for a few years but was too young to gain the popular vote. But he was smart enough to persuade Wallace Jackson that he was the best person to be his second in command. Wallace, a politician all his life, appointed Garrett as an undeveloped candidate who would be no threat to Wallace for eight years. He planned to be re-elected and didn’t care who would run for mayor after he was out of office.
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