“I would agree,” the deacon said.
“Did you sign any documents? Did you validate any of the church’s financial statements?”
Deacon Burton placed both hands flat on the table, lowered his head and mumbled, “What a mess.”
“What did you say?” Maxwell questioned.
Deacon Burton’s gaze shot up to Maxwell. “Nothing,” he uttered waving off the comment. He drew on his faith and spoke. “I’m the chairman of the deacon’s board. I’ve signed a lot of financial paperwork on the church’s behalf. I’ve signed loan documents. I’ve verified sources of revenue, yearly tithing totals for loan purposes, and countless other things. I’ve been a deacon at Greater Metropolitan long before we built the new church.” Deacon Burton lifted his left hand from the table, twisting his wedding band encrusted with three diamonds. Maxwell watched him twirl the ring in silence. “It sounds like you’ve probably signed incriminating documents without knowing what the information actually represented.”
“I can’t go to jail. I have a family, a wife and two children. I’m responsible for them. I need to be able to take care of my family. Mr. Montgomery, I mean, Maxwell, I can’t go to jail.”
“Unfortunately, ignorance of the law isn’t a defense. It does not absolve you of any criminal activity.”
Deacon Burton grabbed the spoon sitting idle in front of him. “I can’t believe this. This can’t be happening to me. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I might be able to help you. If you’ve really done nothing wrong then you shouldn’t have any problem working with me to provide information that will help build the civil case against Bishop and Minister Simmons. If you are willing to do that, I can help you walk away with immunity.”
Deacon Burton scanned the restaurant once more for familiar faces, glanced to his left and then his right briefly to assess cars in the parking lot. He strummed his fingers on the top of the table. “How can I help?”
Maxwell took copious notes with his pen seeming to sail smoothly across the paper as Deacon Burton answered questions and spoke freely about what he’d found out. He included the large amounts of tithing. The last detail the deacon shared was what he’d learned from his one and only conversation with Jill. Now, Maxwell knew about the selling of prescription drugs, possible sexual harassment, and the bishop’s alleged involvement. Deacon Burton didn’t leave out what he believed to be Simmons’s part in the whole ugly scandal that seemed to be boiling. Fumbling with the slip of paper in his pocket, finally, his decision was made. Deacon inched the slip of paper, covered by his palm, across the table in front of Maxwell. “Call her. Maybe she can help you figure out this puzzle.” Maxwell handled the piece of paper with Jill’s name and number on it delicately when he’d tucked it inside his suit jacket. He hoped it would lead to more answers and ultimately an ironclad case.
Chapter 37
Maxwell huffed into the phone. “I’m waiting on that revised case law for sexual harassment. I’d like to get it this morning,” He continued riffling through papers on his desk without finding what he wanted. He searched files, paperwork, law books, and the notepads coming up empty. He glanced across the room. Maybe he’d left it over there. Canvassing the conference table as if he was digging for gold rewarded him with a small piece of paper. It was the one Deacon Burton had given him with Jill’s phone number. He’d already added her name to a list of possible witnesses. But he wanted to hold on to the piece of paper written in her handwriting.
Maxwell sat at his desk and tugged the cuffs on his shirt. Just as he was about to put pen to paper, a knock at his office door interrupted him. “Yes,” he said shifting his sight from the paper to his door.
Sonya cracked the door and peeked around the edge of it. “I’ve got the law book and the information you requested.”
“Come on in, you’re just in time. I need to get finished with this.” Maxwell stabbed the legal pad with the point of his ink pen. Sonya placed the book in front of him, pointed out the specific legal verbiage, and abruptly turned to leave.
“I apologize for snapping at you earlier. I have to get this information in order to finish up what I’m doing.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Montgomery. I know how you are when you have your teeth dug into something. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Maxwell spent the next two hours fine-tuning his strategy. He’d just finished up his list of questions when Sonya informed him that Jill was waiting in the outer office. Maxwell rubbed the palms of his hands together and moved the books, notes, and papers on his desk over to the conference table. Now, he was ready. He stepped into the outer office, introduced himself to Jill, and ushered her into his office. “Have a seat, Ms. Smith.”
“Jill is fine.” She sat slowly in the chair situated in front of Maxwell’s desk.
“Jill it is. Call me Maxwell,” he said. “I appreciate you agreeing to speak with me. We can accomplish more in person than we can over the phone.”
“I have to tell you, I don’t feel comfortable being here,” she said wringing her hands.
“Relax, this is informal,” he told her.
“I can’t relax. I don’t know what else I can tell you. I told you everything I know over the phone. I’m pressed for time. I have to get my kids from the babysitter in less than an hour.”
“Then we better get moving if you have a time constraint. Shouldn’t take long for you to give me the information I need.”
“I don’t know what else you want from me.” Jill leaned forward slightly and massaged the lower part of her back gingerly.
“I want you to pursue sexual harassment in a civil court case against Minister Simmons and Bishop Jones.”
“Oh no, Bishop Jones didn’t do anything to me.”
Maxwell heard what she said and allowed it to fuel his contempt. Decades of deceit and people were willing to squander their freedom to protect this man. He couldn’t or wouldn’t believe that Jill or Deacon Burton was telling the truth about Bishop Jones’s lack of involvement in the shady dealings. They were lying and Maxwell knew it.
“Stop trying to protect a guilty man. Do the right thing. Come forth and tell us about those guys.
“I can’t do that. I can’t get involved.” She turned sideways and leaned her weight onto the arm of the chair.
“You’re already involved. You’ve purchased illegal prescription drugs. You’ve taken money to broker a relationship between your drug supplier and Minister Simmons.”
She appeared stunned and lowered her gaze. “How do you know this?” she stammered.
“I have my ways,” he said twirling a pen between his fingers.
“Excuse me, Mr. Montgomery, I have a stabbing pain in my back and it’s crawling up my spine. Do you mind if I stand?”
“Not at all,” Maxwell answered watching her rise carefully from her seat, wincing. He preferred to think her sudden surge of pain was meant to distract his line of questioning, but his inclination said no. Her pain was real. It seemed to ravage her body with each passing second.
“I haven’t forgotten my role in this. You probably think I’m a shiftless nobody addicted to drugs who’s willing to do anything to get a hit.” She walked around the chair and braced herself by firmly planting both hands on it. Honestly, Maxwell didn’t have an opinion about her and resisted responding. “I bet you come from a two-parent household with plenty of money. You probably went to a private school and never had kids tease you because you didn’t have decent clean clothes.” She grimaced in pain as she struggled to stand straight. “I’m all my children have, and I’ve done what I absolutely had to do in order to provide for them. We don’t have a big, fine house and money in the bank, but my kids are clean, and taken care of. I love them and, most of all, we’re together. And that’s the way it has to stay. If I testify about the sexual harassment, Minister Simmons is bound to tell about the pills.” Jill’s voice elevated. “I can’t risk it, because the department of children and family services
will end up in the picture. I could lose my kids.” Maxwell’ was distracted by the boulders of tears forming in her eyes.
Maxwell stood and pulled tissue from the dispenser on his desk and handed it to her. “I understand your concern. However, I don’t think you’ve considered the money that could be gained from a civil suit like this one. You could end up not having to worry about money ever again. Taking care of your children financially would no longer be a problem, and then you could afford the best medical care.” Maxwell handed her more tissue.
“I grew up without my father. He just walked out on us. My mother died when I was young. I just can’t take the risk of my children being caught up with some crazy child protection agency that will split them up. I won’t lose my kids. If you try to force me into this, I will deny everything.” She wiped her flowing tears and blew her nose. “I won’t lie on Bishop Jones. I just won’t do it. I won’t participate in any way.”
Maxwell could hear the tenacity in her voice. Jill’s only concern was keeping her children, and that was one area he was not willing to touch. If only his parents had shown such commitment to their children, perhaps the Montgomery’s of Chester, PA would have turned out differently. He dwelled on his family and their fractured relationships briefly before casting it aside. He had more pressing matters to handle than poking around old wounds. However, without Jill’s participation on the civil angle, the bishop would only have to contend with criminal charges. Building criminal cases wasn’t Maxwell’s arena, but he’d gladly make an exception for Bishop Jones. Although Maxwell didn’t trust any prosecutor with a case this important, he didn’t seem to have much choice. He’d just have to package the evidence in such a concise way that no one could fumble the litigation, or so he hoped.
Chapter 38
The sun had long set and the day was slipping away by the second. Maxwell was alert, focused, and alone in his office. When Jill left earlier, she took with her the hope of having a stellar plaintiff. What twelve reasonable people wouldn’t have their hearts pricked by a single mother struggling financially to take care of her children and enduring constant pain in the process? She reached out to a minister in the church who, instead of helping, took advantage of her for his own monetary gain and entangled her in an illegal drug business. Maxwell propped his feet up on top of his desk, envisioning the impact those facts and her testimony would have in a courtroom.
Minutes later, Maxwell yanked his feet down and pounded the corner of the desk with his fist. He wasn’t going to be able to use Jill. That meant he would have to proceed with the zoning violations and then turn the findings over to the district attorney for criminal prosecution. He wasn’t pleased. His trademark had consistently been to cripple the perpetrators where it mattered most—in their wallets. That’s why he lived for civil cases. Criminal law was too much work for too little gain. Sitting in some posh jail for a few months or even years didn’t constitute sufficient restitution, but bankruptcy cut much deeper for greedy pariahs like Bishop Jones and Minister Simmons.
His anger swelled. He couldn’t let Bishop Jones get away with anything less. Maxwell wouldn’t accept a partial defeat. He had come too close to a full-fledged victory, and he wasn’t about to give up. He paced the floor racking his brain to come up with a way to build a solid case and link the church to the wider-scaled crime. He stopped in the middle of the floor, rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie. Maxwell pulled four boxes from his closet. He ravished the boxes one-by-one meticulously scrutinizing every piece of paper related to the case. He must have missed something that would give him the concrete victory he yearned. Papers covered his desk and the conference table; he even had a stack as high as the trashcan, sitting on the floor next to his desk.
Four hours into his scavenger hunt, Maxwell grew with excitement. He moved swiftly to his desk, knocking the stack of papers onto the floor. He pushed the documents underneath the bright lamp on his desk. Maxwell’s gaze, swollen with anticipation, followed his index finger as he slowly read each word. He pinched his eyelids with his fingertips determined to be sure of what he was reading. With his weary eyes refocused, he read the documents again. Finally, he had linked several zoning violations with questionable real estate transactions that Chambers had brokered for another church. He whizzed to the stack of papers he’d just struck gold in and there it was; the final nail. He had Chambers’ signature on a deal with Greater Metropolitan dated before the rezoning transactions began, which meant somehow they influenced the zoning changes. Business owners had been forced out of their places due to underhanded tactics. The shady dealings had apparently been in the works for some time.
Maxwell was giddy with pleasure. His victory at the end of a long journey was in sight. He had to talk to someone. He needed to hear the words out loud. Maxwell didn’t let the fact that it was past midnight sway him from calling Garrett. Both men had invested many hours building this case and neither needed a lot of sleep.
Maxwell glided to the window, shoving his cell phone up to his ear. He peered into the dark of the early morning. It may as well have been a day filled with sunlight. He could see the bright path at the end of the road. Maxwell snapped his fingers, and Garrett answered on the second ring.
“Maxwell, what’s up?” Garrett sounded slightly groggy, but Maxwell wasn’t deterred.
“I’ve got it. I’ve got the information we need to help the prosecutor build a solid case against Bishop Jones. I’ve got him and Greater Metropolitan in the palm of my hand.” Maxwell lifted his open palm up into the air and snatched down a clenched fist. “I’ve got him.”
“What about the civil case? Is this Jill woman you were telling me about going to substantiate the sexual harassment and drug charges?” Garrett asked.
“No, that’s not going to work out.”
“Wow, that’s too bad,” Garrett uttered. “Without her you don’t have a case, unless there’s someone else you can use?”
With energy in his voice like he’d had a full night’s sleep, Maxwell told Garrett about the documents he’d uncovered tying Chambers and Greater Metropolitan to land deals and possible zoning violations. “The small business owners can bring a civil case against Bishop Jones and Greater Metropolitan.”
“Have you spoken to any of them?” Garrett asked.
“Not yet. I figured you could help me out.”
“Sure thing, but are you sure this is the route you want to take?”
“Not really. You know I’ve always avoided class action suits with multiple plaintiffs. The more you have to deal with on one case, the more something is likely to go wrong. People can’t agree on a settlement amount or their accounting of the facts. It can be a legal nightmare.”
“I know that. That’s why I asked.”
“Reality is that I have to pursue the class action cases and then rely on the prosecutor’s office to seal the deal on the criminal side. It’s not my winning strategy, but what choice do I have?”
“You can always walk away.”
Maxwell wanted to curse but choked the words back. “Man, you must be kidding. After years of pursuing this church?” he shouted.
“Relentlessly I might add,” Garrett interrupted.
Maxwell raised his open palms in the air and emphatically said, “E-x-a-c-t-l-y, which is why running away isn’t remotely an option. This might not be playing out as ideally as I would have liked, but at this point, I’ll take what I can get in the way of a conviction.”
“That’s heavy stuff. Sounds like you’re finally where you want to be. What about Simmons?”
“Oh, he’s too easy. I’ll toss his sorry behind to the prosecutor.” Maxwell snorted. “His stupid behind left so much evidence exposed that a law clerk fresh out of school could get him convicted for five to ten years.” Both men were amused. They continued going back and forth recounting the challenges in the case that had brought them to this point.
Maxwell ended the conversation with Garrett as cheerfully as it had begun. “The c
ivil award in this case should be large enough to significantly impair, if not shut down, Greater Metropolitan. That tower of sin and iniquity is coming down.” Maxwell burst into a roar of jubilant laughter as he pressed the end button on his phone. His gusty roar filled the room as he unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulled out a list with names and numbers of the former small business owners who were robbed of their land. He and Garrett would make calls later this morning to elicit their participation into a class action lawsuit. They had to get it done before the criminal charges surfaced. He wanted the crippling reality of doom to be felt by Bishop Jones and Greater Metropolitan from every angle. Maxwell figured it would probably take a month to file if he worked night and day preparing the complaint. Gleefully, he would be counting the days.
Chapter 39
Unrest swept across the church office. “Simmons, where is Chambers? I called him over an hour ago. He should be here by now.” Bishop Jones hastily plucked the phone receiver from its cradle and growled at the church secretary. “Have you heard from Councilman Chambers?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? Could you have missed his call?”
“I’m sure, Bishop,” his secretary affirmed. “He hasn’t called.”
“Okay, let me know the minute you hear from him, no matter what I’m doing or where I am in the church.” He pushed the receiver down with a loud noise startling Simmons who was placing the fourth call to Chambers on his cell phone.
“We need to finish this deal and get moving.” Bishop’s grandson was being released from juvenile lockup in about a month. Adequate time for completing the proposed rehab project wasn’t on his side. Bishop pointed his finger at Simmons. “I don’t know what’s happened to the councilman, but it better not be connected to your foolishness,” he shouted.
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