The Big Lie

by James Grippando

  “To be clear,” Barrow continued, “does it matter that the victim interrupted a private conversation between a man and a woman?”

  “No.”

  “Does it matter that he hurled an inflammatory and racist insult at the man seated at the table?”

  “No.”

  “What does matter?”

  “Everything that happened after he turned his back and walked away. That’s all that matters.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Speer. I have no further questions.”

  Jack rose, eager to make his point: what mattered was that Mr. Meyer said he had “fire” in his pocket and that Charlotte thought he was about to use it.

  “Keep your seat, Mr. Swyteck,” the judge said.

  Jack hesitated, confused. But he did as directed.

  “I find this all very interesting from an intellectual standpoint,” the judge continued. “I suppose some law professor could write a thousand-page legal tome on the question of whether Ms. Holmes had a legal right to stand her ground against Mr. Meyer while Mr. Meyer was standing his ground against Dr. Perez. It kind of reminds me of an old Clint Eastwood western. I forget the name of the movie. It’s the one that ends with not just two men in a high-noon showdown, but three of them—mano a mano a mano, as it were. Maybe that’s where the world is headed. We can all just stand our ground against other folks standing their ground until we’re the last man—or woman—standing.”

  Jack rose respectfully. “Your Honor, I do have cross-examination.”

  “Keep your powder dry, Mr. Swyteck. Bobby—Mr. Speer—thank you kindly for the visit. Always good to see you. General Barrow, your objection on grounds of relevance is overruled. We are going to listen to that recording. The whole recording. Mr. Swyteck, if you please . . .”

  Jack smiled to himself. Every so often, a ray of justice shone through a courtroom, reminding a lawyer why he went to law school.

  “Thank you, Judge. Thank you very much.”

  Chapter 45

  Jack felt momentum. Charlotte smelled blood.

  “I want to testify,” she said.

  The recorded altercation had been played to a packed courtroom from start to finish, and the hearing was in recess for fifteen minutes. Jack and his client were down the hall, alone in an empty jury room. It had been Jack’s intention to return to the courtroom after the break and announce, “The defense rests.”

  “We agreed that was a bad idea,” said Jack.

  “We’ve got our boot on General Barrow’s neck. Let’s finish her.”

  The metaphor seemed a bit brutal, but Jack reminded himself that nice girls from Pensacola grew up in Florida’s largest military community.

  “Let’s keep our eye on the ball,” said Jack. “This hearing is secondary. The most important thing is to convince the Leon County state attorney to drop the criminal charges against you. As things stand now, I believe I can do that.”

  “It can only help if we win this hearing.”

  “I never guarantee results,” said Jack, “but I truly believe that the only shot General Barrow has at resurrecting this case is to shred you on cross-examination.”

  “What makes you think she’ll shred me?”

  “This hearing has always been political, but now it’s political scorched earth. It’s my view that no one who is the target of a politically motivated prosecution should testify under oath. Once you take the stand, the underlying charge becomes almost irrelevant. If your testimony doesn’t fit the government’s narrative, then the case is all about perjury, lying to officials, and obstruction of justice.”

  “Now you sound like President MacLeod’s lawyer.”

  “Maybe he should have hired me.”

  Charlotte looked away, thinking. “If I choose not to testify, is the case over?”

  “General Barrow has a right to put on rebuttal evidence.”

  “What if her rebuttal case is convincing?”

  “Then we reevaluate.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “This is a civil hearing. If we think there is a serious chance that Judge Martin will find you unfit to serve as an elector, you can resign before he rules. That leaves nothing for the judge to decide. The case will be moot.”

  “If I resign, the governor will appoint a replacement who will vote for MacLeod.”

  “True.”

  “You’re okay with that?”

  “My job is to protect you,” said Jack, “not to get one candidate or the other elected.”

  “I don’t want to resign. Not after coming this far.”

  “It would be a last resort.”

  “You really don’t think I should testify?”

  “While you’re still facing criminal charges, it would be the worst decision you could make.”

  Charlotte breathed in and out. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it. Or should I say not do it?”

  “General Barrow? Does the state of Florida have any rebuttal evidence?”

  Jack had worried that the walk back to the courtroom was just long enough for Charlotte to change her mind, but his advice stuck. The announced decision to rest her case had surprised no one, least of all the attorney general. Jack did notice a hint of disappointment in Barrow’s voice, however, as she rose in response to Judge Martin’s question.

  “The state of Florida calls FDLE officer Marcus Teller.”

  Teller worked in the tech unit of the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. Jack’s initial impression was that General Barrow simply refused to give up her attack on the audio recording, and that she was bringing in a tech expert for another bite at the apple. He was wrong.

  “Officer Teller, what was your role in the investigation into the shooting of Logan Meyer?”

  “I was asked to examine a flash drive that investigators found at the crime scene.”

  The flash drive: Jack still didn’t know what was on it. He was back to playing defense.

  The attorney general laid the necessary groundwork, establishing that the flash drive was found on the table where Charlotte and Dr. Perez were seated. Then she got down to business.

  “Did you find any data on the flash drive when you examined it?” asked Barrow.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you encounter any difficulty examining that data?”

  “Yes. It was encrypted.”

  “Were you able to break that encryption?”

  “Yes. It took time, because the trick to decryption is to break encryption without deleting the contents of the decrypted file.”

  “Could you tell the court what you found?”

  “I could, but it would be a lot easier to show it.”

  With the court’s permission, the attorney general displayed an image on the projection screen for all in the courtroom to see. It appeared to be a code of some sort. A long code.

  “What are we looking at?” asked Barrow.

  “In a generic sense,” said Teller, “this is a string of two hundred fifty-six numbers between zero and nine and letters between A and F.”

  “Were you able to determine the significance of these numbers and letters?”

  “Yes. This is what is known as a bitcoin key.”

  Jack was familiar with it. His last case involving bitcoin was in defense of an American businessman accused of bribing a Venezuelan government official in violation of the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act.

  “What is bitcoin?” asked Barrow.

  “Bitcoin is a form of crypto-currency.”

  “How does crypto-currency differ from other forms of currency?”

  “Objection,” said Jack, just breaking the flow. “This witness is not an economist.”

  “Overruled. The witness can answer from a law enforcement point of view.”

  “In a word, bitcoin is a form of payment that has the added benefit of complete anonymity.”

  “Can you explain what you mean?” asked Barrow.

  “Let’s say I want to send you money by electronic payment. I can do
a wire transfer from my bank account to your bank account. Obviously, there is a record of that transaction: sender, recipient, date, amount, and so forth.”

  “Is there a similar record with bitcoin?”

  “No. In a bitcoin transaction, I park the crypto-currency at a bitcoin public address on the Internet. It’s kind of like an e-mail address box, except that a bitcoin address is used only once. There’s no way for an outsider to know who owns that address or how much bitcoin is parked there.”

  “Who can access the bitcoin at the bitcoin address?”

  “The person who has the security key.”

  “So let’s go back to the flash drive found on the table where Ms. Holmes was seated with Dr. Perez. The only thing on that flash drive was what?”

  “A unique two-hundred-fifty-six-bit security key.”

  “What does a security key allow the holder to do?”

  “Every key has a mate. In bitcoin parlance, the mate is a bitcoin address where bitcoin is parked. The person who has the bitcoin key takes the bitcoin. If it helps, think of the two-hundred-fifty-six-bit key as a key to a safe full of money.”

  “In other words, handing someone a flash drive with a two-hundred-fifty-six-bit key is like handing her the key to a safe.”

  Jack objected, but again he was overruled.

  “Correct,” said the witness.

  “Thank you. I have no further questions.” The attorney general stepped away from the podium. “Your witness,” she said to Jack on her way back to her seat at the government table.

  Jack had to be careful. The audio recording made it clear that Dr. Perez was trying to give her something, but there was no evidence it was the flash drive. Jack didn’t want to fill in the missing blank by overreaching on cross-examination.

  Jack rose and, while standing at his table, read from his notes. “‘Like giving someone a key to a safe,’” said Jack, repeating the witness’s words. “That was your testimony?”

  “Yes.”

  Jack laid his yellow notepad aside, approached the witness, and stopped. “Sticking with your analogy: You don’t know where the safe is, do you?”

  The officer’s body language screamed pushback. “I don’t understand the question.”

  “The security key can access a bitcoin address, but you have no idea what that bitcoin address is, do you, Officer Teller?”

  “We don’t know the address.”

  “Nothing on that flash drive tells you how to find that address.”

  The witness thought about it, then conceded. “That’s true.”

  “So giving someone that flash drive is like giving him the key to a safe, but not telling him where the safe is. Right?”

  “In a way, I suppose.”

  “And the bitcoin address tied to that key could be anywhere in cyberspace. Or, to put it another away, the safe could be anywhere in the world. Correct?”

  “Theoretically, that’s correct.”

  Jack pointed to the image on the screen. “That series of two hundred fifty-six bits—the bitcoin security key—has zero value unless you know the bitcoin address; the mate to the key, as you put it. Isn’t that right, Officer?”

  The witness shifted his weight, searching for a way around Jack’s point. “I’m not sure.”

  Jack pointed to the screen. “How much would you pay for those two hundred and fifty-six numbers and letters floating around in cyberspace if there was no bitcoin address linked to them?”

  “Objection. Harassing.”

  Jack turned and faced the judge. “Your Honor, I’m being earnest about this. The clear implication of this witness’s testimony is that Dr. Perez was trying to bribe my client. You can’t bribe someone if there’s nothing of value.”

  “Overruled.”

  The witness paused, then answered. “As I said—theoretically, you’re correct.”

  “Let’s talk less theoretically,” said Jack. “Can you point to any evidence that my client, Ms. Holmes, ever received the flash drive?”

  “It was found on the table where she was seated.”

  “That wasn’t my question. Were her fingerprints on the flash drive?”

  “I don’t know. That’s not my job.”

  “Fair enough. Fingerprints aside: Do you have any evidence whatsoever that Ms. Holmes ever laid a finger on that flash drive?”

  “I do not.”

  “Do you have any evidence that Ms. Holmes received the two-hundred-fifty-six-bit security key from any other source?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have any evidence that Ms. Holmes had knowledge of the bitcoin address connected to that key?”

  “I do not.”

  “Do you even know if that bitcoin address holds any bitcoin?”

  “I would assume it does.”

  “I’m not interested in your assumptions.”

  “Then—I don’t know.”

  “So we have a key that my client never received. The key opens a safe at some unknown location. And that safe may or may not have anything of value in it. Is that about the size of things?”

  “Objection. Compound question. Argumentative.”

  “Sustained,” said the judge. “But I take your point, Mr. Swyteck.”

  “Thank you. That’s all I have for now.” Jack returned to his seat at the table and looked his client straight in the eye.

  “Good work,” she whispered.

  “We need to talk,” he whispered back.

  Chapter 46

  Court recessed for lunch. Jack and his client retreated to their hotel, dogged by a re-energized media. Reporters followed them out of the courthouse, across the street, and all the way through the hotel lobby, firing off the same question that Jack wanted answered. He waited until he was alone with his client and behind closed doors before asking it.

  “Do you know where the safe is?”

  They were standing in a ballroom big enough for two hundred guests. It was just the two of them.

  “The what?”

  “Don’t go Officer Teller–dumb on me,” said Jack. “The bitcoin address that matches the key. Do you know it?”

  “No, Jack. I don’t know anything about bitcoin, the address, the key. I didn’t go to Clyde’s to get anything from Alberto. You heard the audio recording. When he pulled out the flash drive, I didn’t even want to know what was on it. I told him to put it away.”

  The audio: they had that much working in their favor.

  A dozen ballroom tables, each with twelve Chiavari chairs in wedding-reception white and gold, dotted the cavernous room. Charlotte went to the nearest one and took a seat, alone, looking a bit like a jilted bride. “Does this change your view on whether I should testify at this hearing?”

  “No. We can’t do anything in this hearing that might hurt you later in a criminal trial. It would be suicide for you to testify before we know what Dr. Perez is going to say. He’s obviously a scumbag. We can’t give him the chance to come back in six months for the criminal trial and bury you by shaping his testimony in response to yours.”

  “No wonder he’s in Mexico, if he was trying to pay me to vote for Senator Stahl.”

  Jack joined her at the table, leveling his gaze. “Has anyone else tried to pay you to vote for Stahl?”

  “No!”

  “Why would Dr. Perez think your vote was for sale?”

  “Maybe he thought I was wavering in my decision.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, a tad sarcastic. “Maybe I’m overly sensitive, but I’ve been stalked, threatened, harassed, and ridiculed on a daily basis. I can’t go back to my house, I can’t go back to my job, I’ve been publicly portrayed as a slut who trades legislative votes for sex, and the attorney general of Florida says I’m a cold-blooded killer with an itchy trigger finger. If you were counting on me to breach my electoral oath and vote for Senator Stahl, wouldn’t you be wondering just how much I can take?”

  “Yes, I would,” said Ja
ck. “But that’s not really the question, is it?”

  “What is the question?”

  “Why is Dr. Perez counting on you being a faithless elector? To put a finer point on it, why was it so important to him that he tried to bribe you to make sure you voted for Senator Stahl?”

  Charlotte shook her head, coming up empty. “I have no idea.”

  “Your ratings are way up, Paulette.”

  President MacLeod was alone in the Oval Office. He had the Florida attorney general on speaker. His new cell phone, encased in a military-grade shock-proof case, lay on the desktop.

  “Thank you, sir,” said the attorney general. “It only gets better.”

  “Better is not what I’m after,” he said in a serious tone. “Finish it.”

  Chapter 47

  The lunch break was over. The government’s first rebuttal witness had done little damage, so Jack expected another.

  General Barrow rose to make her announcement. “At this time, the state of Florida recalls Heidi Bristol. Your Honor, since Ms. Bristol was a witness for the defense, I respectfully request permission to treat her as an adverse witness.”

  In courtroom parlance, she wanted to proceed in cross-examination format, as opposed to a simple Q&A. Jack had no objection. In fact, it was a relief to hear that the government still considered the doctor’s wife “adverse.” Jack had seen witnesses flip in midtrial before.

  “Permission granted,” said the judge.

  The door opened in the rear of the courtroom, and Heidi Bristol retraced her steps down the center aisle to the witness stand. The judge reminded her that she was still under oath. As she settled into her chair, she glanced in Jack’s direction, and Jack read her brief eye contact as another positive signal that she wouldn’t go out of her way to hurt Charlotte. But the attorney general was running out of rebuttal witnesses, and the tension in the courtroom reflected a general consensus that Ms. Bristol was in for an unpleasant ride.

  Barrow stepped to the podium, and the first exhibit flashed immediately on the projection screen: a photograph.

  “Ms. Bristol, do you recognize the people in this picture?”