by Paul Levine
A: Da. I need them both or I will say nothing and sign nothing.
Q: Subsequent to your return from Pennsylvania, is it true that we have had extensive discussions with your lawyer and your . . .
A: Fiancé. Gerald is my fiancé.
Q: Ms. Silvers and Mr. Hostetler have been present during these discussions.
A: Da. We have talked and talked.
Q: Very well. Have you had a chance to review the document the government has prepared?
A: [Examines document] These are the things I have said.
Q: And you are willing to repeat these statements under oath to the federal grand jury investigating Mr. Benjamin Cohen?
A: I will say these things because they are true. I took Aeroflot 100 from Moscow to New York carrying uncut diamonds hidden in lining of my luggage. All the girls took that flight and carried diamonds from Mirny mine. Was our job.
Q: Why that particular flight, Ms. Delova?
A: Like I told you hundred times. The Gorevs had their man working Aeroflot 100 at Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow. There was no risk. That is why we never took the Transaero nonstop flight to Miami. Too much risk. So we fly Aeroflot to JFK where US Customs looks for drugs and weapons only. Diamonds were sewn into compartments and were never found.
Q: When you landed at JFK, did you meet Mr. Benjamin Cohen?
A: He was waiting at hotel near airport. He opened my suitcase, tore out the lining, and removed the diamonds.
Q: You saw him do this?
A: With my own eyes. He told me it was the only time he went to New York for the diamonds. He always waited for them to be delivered by one of his men, someone he could trust would never testify against him. “No hand-to-hand transaction, bubeleh, except with you.” That is what he told me. And that is why the US government love me so much. I am your big eyewitness. Also reason Benny want to kill me.
Q: [By Ms. Silvers] Nadia, please just answer the question and refrain from editorializing.
A: [By Ms. Delova] Sorry. Usually, driver delivers girls and diamonds to Nicolai Gorev in Miami. Gorev was middleman, again to protect Benny. This time, was different for reason I already say.
Q: [By Ms. Scolino] So why this one time did Mr. Cohen take the risk and come to New York?
A: He had buyer in city who could not wait. Benny took diamonds to Manhattan that night.
Q: Thank you, Ms. Delova. Do you fully understand the nature of the documents you are about to sign?
A: I testify against Benny. You drop all charges against me. Gerald marry me, and I get green card.
Q: And by Gerald, you mean Mr. Hostetler.
A: Who else would I mean? He is the only Gerald I marry.
Q: I am led to believe you will be giving a statement to State Attorney Pincher in the Gorev shooting, is that correct?
A: Da. I will tell him shooting was accident.
Q: Well, we’ll see what he says about that, won’t we?
A: [Witness does not respond]
-47-
Use a Gun and You’re Done
There are no accidents, Jake.” Ray Pincher exhaled a blue puff of cigar smoke in my face. “Freud said that.”
“I’ll be sure to keep him off the jury. C’mon, Ray. You heard Nadia’s story.”
“Sure. In her opinion, Solomon was supposedly unloading the Glock when it accidentally discharged.”
“Exactly. The magazine hit the floor with a bang. Solomon was startled and pulled the trigger.”
“So she opines.”
We were in the state attorney’s office, atop the Richard E. Gerstein Justice Building. Pincher was perched on the edge of his desk, a hundred certificates, plaques, and photos arranged gaudily on his mahogany walls. His merit badges from the Elks, Rotarians, and probably the International Order of Odd Fellows. A crystal glass humidor sat on his credenza. It was filled with Cohibas. Real ones. From Cuba. Illegal. That probably made them taste better to the chief prosecutor.
I had come to plead Solomon’s case. Accident. Not first-degree murder, the charge he faced under the felony murder rule. And not even manslaughter.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. This wasn’t a crime. It was just an unfortunate accident.”
Here was my dilemma. Reducing the charge to manslaughter wouldn’t keep Solomon out of prison. Manslaughter is a second-degree felony with a maximum penalty of fifteen years. When a firearm is used, Florida has a tricky little law called “10-20-Life.” Or in the words of the televised public service announcements: “Use a gun, and you’re done.”
It’s all very complicated, what with sentencing guidelines, firearm enhancements, and conflicting statutes, but you can take this to the bank. Manslaughter committed with a gun carries a possible thirty years in prison. Yeah, draconian. I know. Welcome to Florida, the Sunshine State.
And just what is manslaughter? That’s tricky, too. The statute says it’s the “killing of a human being by culpable negligence without lawful justification.”
And what is culpable negligence? Well, it’s worse than mere carelessness. It’s an action that shows reckless disregard for human life. Let’s say you shoot a gun into the air to celebrate New Year’s, and the falling bullet kills someone. Or you leave a child in the car on a broiling summer day. Or you get in a fistfight in a bar and the other guy cracks his head on the floor and dies.
Manslaughter?
I’ll give you a lawyer’s answer. Guilty, if the jury says so. Not guilty, if it says that. Truly, manslaughter is one of the shadowy areas of criminal law.
“It was an accident, plain and simple,” I told Pincher. “At worst, simple negligence. But not culpable negligence to support a manslaughter charge.”
Pincher blew a smoke ring and tapped ashes into a wastebasket. With any luck, the building would burn to the ground.
“Were you listening, Jake? Accident is just the B-girl’s opinion. But she’s a fact witness, not an expert. I’ll be filing a motion in limine to strictly limit her testimony to what she saw and heard. You won’t be able to cross her as to what she thinks happened or what was supposedly in Solomon’s mind.”
“I don’t care about your fancy motion,” I said. But I was lying. I cared a lot. Even if Nadia tried to help us, Pincher could put her in a straitjacket if the judge granted his motion. Obviously, I couldn’t let Sugar Ray sense my worry. First rule of a trial lawyer: never let them see your fear.
“So the battle lines are drawn,” he concluded.
Not really. We hadn’t discussed a plea. There’s always a duel to see who cries uncle first. Would the State Attorney make an offer or would I ask for one? Having seen Sugar Ray box in Golden Gloves, I knew he liked to skip around the ring before settling down to business. I would try to wait him out.
“You know, Jake, I always teach our young prosecutors to simplify their cases. I tell them to state their theory in one sentence. One simple Anglo-Saxon sentence with a noun and a verb and damn few adjectives. You want to hear mine?”
“Hit me with your best shot,” I said. “Or a combo, if you’ve got one.”
“Solomon takes the gun from Nadia and shoots Gorev right between the eyes.”
“Solomon’s not that good a shot.”
“That’s your defense?”
“Our defense is that Solomon was a good Samaritan, trying to defuse a nasty situation. It was a brave, heroic act. He simultaneously disarms Nadia and ejects the magazine, and the gun accidentally discharges.”
“A gun doesn’t accidentally discharge. Someone—your guy—pulled the trigger.”
Pincher took the cigar from his mouth and gave me that irritating gotcha smile. “I’ve got an expert witness who’ll testify about the Glock’s safe action split trigger. You can’t fire with any sideways pressure. You gotta have your finger all the way in the guard and pull straight back.”
“And my expert witness will testify about the Glock’s light trigger, only five pounds of pressure. We’ve got exhibits showing all the accidental shoo
tings that have plagued police forces for years. A lot of cops shoot themselves in the leg while reholstering.”
“Fine and dandy,” Pincher said. “Sounds like a jury question then. I’ll do my job, you’ll do yours, and the solid citizens of Miami-Dade will go into their little room, come out, and tell us who’s right.”
“Enough dancing.” I caved, losing the cry-uncle battle. I just wanted to get out of the toxic mixture of cigar smoke and prosecutorial bullshit. “What are you looking for, Ray?”
“You first.”
“Nol-pros the indictment before I embarrass you in front of the voters and ruin your otherwise stellar career.”
Pincher pointed the Cohiba at me as if it were a dagger. “Nice try, but screw you, Jake. Make a real proposal so I can respond.”
“If you reduce the murder charge to something along the lines of assault, I might be able to convince Solomon to plead. The court withholds adjudication so he can keep his Bar license. No prison time, six months’ home confinement with an ankle bracelet, plus three years’ probation. If he kills any more Russian gangsters while he’s on probation, you can send him away.”
Pincher was surprised to find his Cohiba had gone out. He struck a long match and slobbered a bit getting the tobacco flaming again. He enjoyed making me wait. One puff, and then he said, “I love this about you, Jake. Always thinking big. Dreaming. Others may see it as a flaw, but I admire it.”
“Save the lube job and let’s get to the sex.”
“I’ve got one offer. Don’t even think about a counter. Solomon pleads to manslaughter, fifteen years.”
“That’s bullshit!”
“Go to trial and lose, I’ll ask for the max. Life if it’s felony murder. Thirty years if it’s manslaughter with a firearm.”
“When you were kissing federal butt and they needed Solomon to nail Benny Cohen, you offered eight years. That’s when you supposedly believed Solomon was guilty of murder. Now you damn well know it’s an accident and you want fifteen years on a plea.”
“Oh, the bewildering perplexities of the law.”
“That’s crap.”
“Our case just got stronger. You no longer have that empty chair to point to.”
“I’ve got better.”
“How?”
“Your immunized witness, Nadia Delova, is the only one who profited from this so-called crime. You’re giving her a free pass on the shooting and the diamond robbery.”
“She’s given the diamonds to the government. It’s part of her deal.”
“You mean the feds found them in her boyfriend’s house in Pretzelville, Pennsylvania.”
“Same difference.”
He blew another smoke ring and watched in admiration as it rose toward the ceiling. It was an old ceiling, probably filled with asbestos. Maybe Pincher would inhale a spore one day and die a painful death.
“Forget the accident defense!” I exploded.
“I already have. That’s your theory, not mine.”
“Not anymore! You’re playing hardball; so are we.”
“I always like it when you get pugnacious. Let’s hear it, Jake.”
“I’m changing our entire defense, right here and now.”
“This I gotta hear.”
“You’ve charged the wrong person. That’s our case, Ray. And you know the beauty of it. It’s consistent with what Solomon told the cops on the scene. Nadia planned the whole thing. She killed Gorev and robbed him, taking his gun, framing my client, and fleeing the state with the diamonds. Now she’s got a sweetheart deal from the feds and the state. I’ll chew her up and spit her out on cross.”
He made a tut-tut-tutting sound with his tongue. “Shame on you, Jake. You know very well, not a word of that is true.”
“It doesn’t matter what I know, Sugar Ray. Let’s just see what the solid citizens of Miami-Dade have to say when they come out of their little room.”
-48-
Caring about Justice
All this time, Lassiter, you’ve been saying you wouldn’t let me lie on the witness stand,” Solomon said. “One of your sissy rules.”
“Hey, don’t diss me for the one thing I do right.”
True confession. My rule against presenting false testimony wasn’t based solely on morals. It’s partially self-preservation. I learned a long time ago that my client is not my friend. Basically, I’m a lifeguard trying to save a drowning man in rough seas. A man who’ll push me under just to stay afloat himself. If they had the chance, ninety-nine out of one hundred clients would flip on me to save themselves. I can picture the scene:
“Honest, Mr. State Attorney. I didn’t want to do it, but Mr. Lassiter told me to lie on the witness stand.”
What prosecutor wouldn’t rather destroy a pain-in-the-ass defense lawyer than your run-of-the-mill criminal defendant?
Notwithstanding what I had told Pincher, I hadn’t yet made up my mind what to do. I was still looking for a way to win without violating my principles or losing my ticket to practice law.
“Until today, I never lied to a judge or let a client perjure himself at trial,” I told Solomon.
We were in the lawyer’s visitation room at the county jail. Just the two of us, facing each other over the steel table. I was glad Victoria wasn’t here. I didn’t want to hear her disapproval.
“And now you just told the State Attorney I’m gonna testify falsely,” Solomon said.
“Not in so many words. I said you were sticking with your original story.”
“My story was false. Is this your new strategy? Falsely pinning the shooting on Nadia?”
“I don’t know. I’m considering it.”
“Victoria thinks Nadia will try to help us.”
“Operative word try. What happens if Pincher intimidates her? Or her command of English fails her? Or she simply decides you’re not worth the risk of alienating the government? Or . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Or the jury believes every word she says and still thinks it was manslaughter.”
He pulled at the front of his orange jail smock. The air-conditioning must have been on the blink, because we were both sweating, and the air tasted stale and salty.
“So make up your mind, counselor. What’s our strategy?”
“Nadia tells her story on direct. As limited by Pincher, it’s a simple story. You took the gun from her and shot Gorev. On cross, I force her to admit she had the motive; she stole the diamonds; and she fled the state. I hit hard on her B-girl job, which basically consists of lying, trickery, and thievery. If I destroy her credibility, there’s a chance we create a reasonable doubt that you ever touched the gun.”
“But if you can’t shake her, I go to prison and you go on to your next case.”
“Nope. When the trial’s over—win, lose, or mistrial—I’m quitting.”
“Quitting what, Lassiter?”
“The practice.” I stood and paced in little circles. The room was too small for big circles. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. When Pincher offered you that dirty plea, I thought some more. Then today, after inhaling his cigar fumes, I decided. I’m gonna coach football at this little prep school in Vermont.”
“Holy shit.” Solomon dropped his head into his hands. “I told Victoria hiring you was a mistake. My only hope is a 3.850 motion.”
“Hey, I haven’t lost yet. Too early to be talking about ineffective assistance of counsel.”
“I want a continuance. File the motion tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“So new counsel can get up to speed. You’re fired.”
“Not so fast. Let’s think logically about our chances. Why should the jury believe this conniving Bar girl when she says you pulled the trigger?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because it’s true.”
“Hell, boy! Truth doesn’t matter. Evidence does. Credibility does. I can rip her to shreds.”
“You’ve lost your mind, Lassiter.”
“I want to
win, Solomon. For you and for Victoria. But what I really want is to rub Pincher’s face in the mud. And when it’s over, I want the jurors to carry you out of the courtroom on their shoulders while whistling ‘God Bless America.’ ”
“Now you’re delusional.”
I banged my right fist against the concrete wall. And then my left. Hard enough to hurt. My hands, not the wall. Solomon’s eyes bugged. Was I going to clobber him next? He glanced at the door, maybe wanting to yell for a corrections officer.
“A good lawyer is part con man, part priest,” I said.
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
“The con man promises riches if you hire him. The priest threatens hell if you don’t.”
“I get it. So what?”
“I’ve lost my religion. Why should I care about justice?”
“Are you asking me, or is this some philosophical debate you’re having with yourself?”
I paced some more. “The state and feds came to us with a filthy deal. If you nailed Benny Cohen for conspiracy to kill Gorev, you’d get leniency.”
“You’ve been practicing law for twenty years, Lassiter, and you just learned the government plays rough?”
“I’m not talking about their everyday overzealousness. Unreliable informants. Entrapment. Overcharging. Deals with scumbags. This was different. This was criminal.”
Solomon was quiet a moment. “Let’s say we do it your way and stick with my story to the cops. At the end of the day, what are the odds the jury will believe Nadia pulled the trigger?”
“They don’t have to believe she killed Gorev. They only need a reasonable doubt that you did.”
He processed that, and his look told me I wasn’t really fired. Not yet. “But after you tear her to shreds, to use your term, you want me to testify she pulled the trigger.”
“That’s what I was getting to. We might create reasonable doubt without ever putting you on the stand.”
“Bullshit! I’m testifying, even if I don’t know yet what I’m gonna say.”
“Just listen a second, Solomon.”
“If I don’t testify, I piss off the jury. And don’t tell me about the judge’s instruction that they’re not to hold it against a defendant who keeps quiet. Jurors will think I’m hiding something.”