Law and Vengeance

by Mike Papantonio

  That was enough for Gina. The case against Arbalest would proceed. She pumped her right arm; that was the extent of her physical display. Right away she segued into all business.

  “I need you, Ned and Rachel in the conference room in fifteen minutes,” she said.

  The three lawyers and Rachel all gathered in the allotted time. The paralegal nodded to Gina to show she was ready to begin her note-taking.

  “Let’s not allow Madsen-Zimmer time to breathe,” said Gina. “The game clock starts now. So far they’ve let us dictate the pace. I want depositions to begin in ten days or less.”

  “You think they’ll allow that?” asked Ned.

  “They didn’t get a quick dismissal at this stage,” said Gina, “so I’m thinking Tim Knapp himself may be giving them orders to rush this to either another shot at dismissal or a quick resolution. By their thinking, the sooner we start with depositions, the less time it will allow us for discovery. And even if Arbalest wants nothing more than this case to disappear, they still won’t think about settling until they see how the depositions go. Being as we are now on the topic of depositions, I say Kendrick Strahan should be placed at the top of our list.”

  “What about Diaz?” Ned asked.

  “Obviously, we want to put off his deposition as long as possible,” Gina said. “To use a boxing term, what we’ll want to do first is pound at Arbalest’s midsection. Each person we depose will add to that pounding. By the time they take a deposition of Diaz, we’ll have him loaded up with enough information to knock them to the mat.”

  “What are your thoughts about deposing Merle Marcus?” Cara asked.

  “I don’t want to offer up his name right away,” said Gina. “Let’s wait until we’re already in the midst of depositions before revealing his name. Suspecting that we have other potential whistle-blowers waiting in the wings will help edge Madsen-Zimmer closer to ‘panic attack’ mode. We’ll give them just enough information to feed that suspicion.”

  “I think Kim Knudsen should be high on our list,” Ned said.

  “Agreed,” said Gina. “I am hoping my meet and greet with her might have provided her the wake-up call she needed to rally her courage to stand up to Arbalest. Any positive little thing we get from her will help us. If our facts are accurate we have an experienced patrol cop with an expert shooting rating who somehow hits her partner in the back even though he was standing as much as five feet to the right of her target.”

  “Tell me the fix wasn’t in on the shooting,” said Ned. “Given those facts, how could CPD’s internal affairs come to their conclusion that Knudsen’s shooting was a case of ‘human error’?”

  “We’ll at least hear what Officer Knudsen thinks of that conclusion,” said Gina. “We’ll also see what she thinks about CPD’s chain of evidence custody and learn how the Sight-Clops she used in the shooting ended up in the hands of Arbalest first before making its way to an internal investigation team.”

  “That sounds like evidence tampering to me,” said Cara.

  “Our little bird is learning to fly,” said Ned, “as well as being skeptical.”

  “What’s even worse,” Cara said, “is the betrayal Officer Knudsen must have felt when her own department turned on her.”

  “You’re right,” said Ned. “Our investigation shows CPD used a rape defense on one of their own. When in doubt, blame the victim.”

  “Let’s be sure to cover that in the deposition,” Gina said. “In CPD’s official report they ignored Officer Knudsen’s repeated claims that her firearm malfunctioned and instead suggested that her story was merely a form of denial.”

  “Guns don’t kill people,” said Ned, quoting from an old and vilified NRA ad campaign, “people kill people.”

  That seems to be their position,” said Gina. But they’ve added to the equation. Now even defective guns don’t kill. That’s the altar Officer Knudsen was sacrificed upon. CPD concluded that she persisted in believing her weapon was at fault so as to not be overcome by the guilt of killing her partner.”

  “We have to spend more time on that one,” said Ned.

  “Normally,” said Gina, “we should spend days deposing everyone involved with the department’s failure to secure a legitimate chain of custody. And we would question the giant leap in reaching conclusions by the department’s second-rate report on the shooting. But with the facts we have, our best approach is to throw plenty of marbles on the floor and see if they have a way to pick them up. Better to find out now.”

  As the day wore on, the lawyers continued to discuss which individuals they wanted to depose, and in what order, while at the same time making notes for their investigators to look into. One of the first rules of law is to not ask questions when you are not sure of the answers. Before depositions kicked in, they had to make sure of all the answers.

  “What about Cary Jones?” Cara asked. “I think his is a very compelling story.”

  “The problem I see with deposing him,” said Ned, “is that there is no way the army would agree to handing over his M4 carbine and the Sight-Clops attached to it.”

  “And because Private Jones is still in the army,” said Gina, “a Judge Advocate General might insist upon being involved. We wouldn’t want to have to work through a third party.”

  Cara couldn’t hide her disappointment. “I’ve heard Cary’s story,” she said. “Everyone in this room would be moved by what he has gone through because of that Sight-Clops piece of junk.”

  “Then let’s go ahead and introduce that story,” said Gina. “I want you to write up Private Jones’ account of what happened and have him sign an affidavit saying he agrees with your write-up. We can supply that affidavit to Madsen-Zimmer and say that we might, or might not, be deposing Private Jones. That might push them to depose him, and we can control his story better on cross-exam.”

  Cara nodded her approval. “That works for me.”

  “Who else is on your deposition list?” asked Gina.

  “I think we need to go after Paul Long,” Ned said. “He was the Arbalest supervisor to both Diaz and Marcus. We know he got the same incriminating memo that Marcus did. And he would have been present when Diaz warned higher-ups about Sight-Clops.”

  “Agreed,” said Gina. “Let’s try and make Mr. Long as uncomfortable as possible. I’m guessing Madsen-Zimmer has no idea of the documents Diaz and Marcus have provided us, and I’d be surprised if they don’t flat-out lie during discovery by telling us no such documents ever existed. The more big lies we catch them in, the more zeroes in the settlement.”

  “You think they’re going to lie about documents that they know exist?” said Cara, sounding truly appalled.

  Ned said, “Your dad has told you there is no Santa Claus or Easter Bunny, hasn’t he?”

  “We have to assume the worst,” said Gina. “And that’s why we should tie-in every discovery request to documents we have in our hands. Every time Madsen-Zimmer tells us those documents don’t exist, we’ll put that supposed nonexistent piece of paper up on a big screen during depositions and have their own employees read them word for word.”

  “I think we should put Sal Ricci on our list,” Ned said.

  “Who is he?” asked Cara.

  “He’s the CPD gunsmith who installed the Sight-Clops on Officer Knudsen’s firearm. Ricci is likely the one who turned over the Sight-Clops to Arbalest for testing. I’m thinking he must be on their payroll one way or the other. And even if he’s not, Ricci’s job requires him to repair and replace firearms and accessories to firearms. You can count on the fact that Officer Knudsen was not the only one at CPD who had problems with Sight-Clops.”

  “I think we should also consider Betsy Mackey,” said Cara.

  It was Ned’s turn to blank on who she was: “I don’t remember her.”

  “Diaz said she was the secretary taking down notes when he spoke out against the Sight-Clops,” Cara said. “You know how Gina is always saying you don’t go after the big fish until you
catch the little fish? I am hoping Betsy’s testimony can put Tim Knapp’s fingerprints all over this disaster.”

  “I’m flattered when you quote me,” Gina claimed, “especially when I say something that makes sense.”

  “So you want to put Knapp on the depo list?” Ned asked.

  “I do,” Gina said, “especially since we know Madsen-Zimmer will try to make sure that depo never happens. They will fight desperately to avoid having him testify under oath. As part of discovery, though, we should be asking for any communications between Tim Knapp and any Arbalest employee regarding an internal investigation about abuses, complaints, or problems related to the Arbalest product Sight-Clops.”

  “You think that’s going to get us anywhere?” asked Ned. “Madsen-Zimmer will simply argue that Knapp, in his position as CEO is privy to trade secrets and government secrets that will need to be protected. Because of that they will try to stop the deposition.”

  “I expect them to do that,” Gina answered. “But nothing gets the other side’s attention more than a shot right at their heart.” Except, she darkly thought, murder. That was a topic she wanted to explore, even if in a roundabout way. “What do you think of the idea of taking an early depo of Tom Lutz and Ron Thursby?”

  “That’s a long shot,” Ned responded. “First, they will lawyer up if they haven’t already. Secondly, they are not directly involved with the manufacturing of Sight-Clops. Also, you can count on the fact that there is no way their private lawyers will cooperate with the rocket depo schedule we have now. They will only slow things down.”

  Gina didn’t have a good response to that. She couldn’t say that she was running a parallel investigation into the murder of Angus Moore and wanted to have the chance of putting Lutz and Thursby on the hot seat sooner rather than later. She couldn’t come out and say that violent revenge, along with winning the Arbalest case, was her real motivation.

  26

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WE?”

  Lutz looked at the display on his cell phone. For the third time that morning, Strahan the Second was calling him. Lutz had barely listened to the last two messages Strahan had left for him. The man liked to go on and on. But Lutz decided he’d left Strahan hanging long enough. Besides, he didn’t want to have to sift through another message.

  “What is it?” Lutz asked.

  “You’re there,” said Strahan, clearly relieved. “Why didn’t you call back? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important. We’re in trouble.”

  “What do you mean we, white man?”

  It was one of Lutz’s favorite jokes. Just the punch line was enough for most people, but not Strahan. Maybe they didn’t tell those kinds of jokes at Andover.

  Like some shrill old woman, Strahan said, “What are you talking about?”

  “The Lone Ranger and Tonto are surrounded by five thousand screaming braves,” Lutz said. “It’s clear the end has come, so the Lone Ranger says to Tonto, ‘It looks like we won’t survive this one, old friend.’ And Tonto replies, ‘What do you mean we, white man?’”

  “That’s very funny,” said Strahan. “Did you know I’ve been served?”

  “I think you mentioned that nine or ten times in your messages.”

  “Have you been served?”

  “No, I haven’t,” said Lutz. “And even if I had been, I wouldn’t be running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

  “I am going to be deposed by that law firm I told you about, the one with the lawyer that died.”

  Lutz wondered if Strahan was recording their conversation and responded accordingly. “I don’t remember you mentioning that,” he said.

  Strahan just kept on talking. “I tried calling Tim Knapp, but he’s not taking my calls. His snake for a lawyer, a bastard named Carter, said Arbalest would be providing me a lawyer to prepare for the deposition. He said this lawyer would hold my hand through the whole thing and that I shouldn’t worry. As soon as that S.O.B. said those words, I knew it was time to start worrying. Carter is selling me down the river. I’m going to be Arbalest’s sacrificial lamb.”

  “Is that so?”

  “We need to do something.”

  Lutz considered saying for a second time, “‘What do you mean we, white man?’” It was a classic, after all. But you don’t throw pearls before swine, even Andover swine.

  “Maybe you should refuse the company lawyer,” said Lutz, “and get your own mouthpiece.”

  “Maybe I should cut a deal,” said Strahan.

  Lutz didn’t like what he was hearing, but he didn’t rise up to take the bait. “Maybe you shouldn’t panic. You sound like a guilty man. That’s why you need to talk this out with a lawyer you trust, if there is such a thing. I am sure he’ll calm you down. I am sure he’ll tell you this law firm and their deposition is nothing more than a fishing expedition. And when faced with that, all you have to do is tell them, ‘Go fish.’”

  Strahan’s breathing was no longer as loud over the phone. Lutz continued to talk, doing his best to sound like the voice of reason.

  “You’re a lobbyist for Christ’s sake,” said Lutz. “What lobbyist doesn’t cut a few corners? What lobbyist doesn’t have a slush fund? You play in a dirty and rigged game. You didn’t write those rules.”

  “I sure didn’t. I just played the hand I got.”

  “Get that lawyer as soon as you can,” said Lutz. “You’ll feel better after you talk to him.”

  “I’ll do that,” said Strahan.

  After one or two more “attaboys,” Strahan hung up. Then it was Lutz’s turn to make a call. Without identifying himself he said, “What do you got?”

  Lutz listened for a minute before saying, “So, by following the money all they’ve been able to get is smoke and not fire?”

  Whatever was said apparently satisfied Lutz. “For the moment then, we’re not on the big-game list?”

  Lutz listened some more until he said, “All right, Ivanhoe. Keep me informed.”

  The nerd was his insurance policy, thought Lutz. As long as he was monitoring Bergman-Deketomis, Lutz didn’t have to worry about what the law firm was doing. And if things got too close to them, they could pin everything on a dead Ivanhoe.

  Lutz looked over at Thursby. He was sacked out on the sofa. “Hey,” he called, “I hate to interrupt your beauty sleep, but I need you for something.”

  27

  QUICK DRAW

  The day after Judge Sanders informed both sides that the trial was to proceed, Gina had subpoenas served on Kendrick Strahan, Officer Kim Knudsen, gunsmith Sal Ricci, Private Cary Jones, Merle Marcus, Betsy Mackey, Paul Long, and Arbalest CEO Tim Knapp. As if that wasn’t enough to keep Madsen-Zimmer busy, Gina’s team also requested they provide them with a long list of remarkably specific documents pertaining to Sight-Clops.

  In the days since, little in the way of those documents had been produced. Gina was sure that either the Arbalest paper shredders, or those of Madsen-Zimmer, or both, were working overtime. Perhaps for that reason Madsen-Zimmer still wasn’t objecting to the idea of a fast-paced discovery schedule and had agreed to proceed with most, but not all, of the depositions within the next two weeks. The line in the sand for Madsen-Zimmer was the deposition of Tim Knapp. To prevent this, they gathered affidavits from highly paid experts claiming that testimony by Knapp created a real and present danger to Arbalest as an irreplaceable military contractor to the United States government and that such a deposition could adversely affect national security.

  Because of this, before the depositions could take place, Judge Sanders asked to hear from both sides regarding whether Tim Knapp should be deposed.

  Gina flew to Chicago for the oral arguments. Madsen-Zimmer sent five lawyers and a curveball. One of their lawyers was a former lover. Aiding in Arbalest’s defense was Zack Templeton. Gina had dated Templeton during her days at Rutgers. At the time, he w
as a great poseur, playing the role of a left-wing radical with a full beard and ponytail. Even though Gina was several years younger than Templeton, she had soon concluded then that he was a fraud with the depth of a reality show TV actor. She had planned to end their relationship, but Templeton finished it before she did. He opted out by saying he was “enamored” of another first-year law student.

  Templeton, Gina knew, was supposed to be a distraction. But the truth is she found the Madsen-Zimmer ploy laughable. Did Madsen-Zimmer think all Templeton had to do was bat his eyes to get her flustered? Did they believe she had been pining for Templeton all this time? After all, it had been a long time since she’d been a beginning law student.

  “Gina!” said Templeton, opening his arms to give her a hug.

  Her response wasn’t vindictive or planned, even if it seemed so. Without thinking, Gina responded by calling Templeton the nickname by which the third-year female law students referred to him.

  “Quick Draw,” she said.

  The “official” explanation that came with the nickname was that Templeton resembled the cartoon character Quick Draw McGraw. But everyone knew that wasn’t the real explanation.

  Templeton slunk back to his side.

  Even behind black robes, Judge Sanders looked like a well-put-together woman in her mid-sixties. Her white hair was stylishly coiffed. As Gina had suspected, the judge wasn’t one to let matters drag out. She asked questions and quickly ended any answers that dragged on. In fewer than forty minutes, Judge Sanders heard arguments on the Knapp deposition. Gina hammered at her points.

  “This isn’t about us trying to find out about Arbalest trade secrets,” stressed Gina. “Our deposition of CEO and owner Tim Knapp won’t stray into any top secret governmental areas. We won’t be asking about proprietary formulas or marketing strategies or sales projections. What this is about is Sight-Clops, and nothing else. We want to know what Mr. Knapp knew and when he knew it. On President Harry Truman’s Oval Office desk was a thirteen-inch sign that read: ‘The Buck Stops Here.’ We need to talk to Mr. Knapp to find out where that Arbalest buck did stop.”