Most Dangerous Place

by James Grippando

  “Is this the house in Caracas that you and your mother moved to?” asked Jack.

  She seemed surprised that Jack had a photo—perhaps even more surprised to see Jack in it. “Yes.”

  With the court’s permission, Jack showed it to the jury. Then he returned to the podium. “Ms. Morales, there are worse houses than this one in Caracas, are there not?”

  “Yes. Definitely.”

  “There are parts of the Catia borough where crime is out of control. True?”

  “Some places I would never want to live.”

  “This house is not the most dangerous place that you and your mother could end up. Is it?”

  Alicia seemed to understand Jack’s point, but the prosecutor interrupted. “Objection, Judge. I don’t see the relevance of any of this.”

  “Nor do I. Sustained.”

  Jack wanted to explain that it was relevant—that this witness had stopped short of telling the jury the horrid truth about Felipe Bornelli, and that she’d done so out of the same fear of retribution that had tormented her as a teenager.

  “Judge, I—”

  “I’ve already sustained the objection, Mr. Swyteck. Please move on.”

  “Can I change my answer, please?” asked Alicia.

  Jack’s spirits soared. Alicia was looking straight at Isa, and Jack sensed that both his client and the witness had understood where he was headed with his line of questioning—and that the two old friends had come to a silent understanding that it was time for the truth to be told.

  The prosecutor didn’t know what to say, but she spoke anyway. “Judge, there is no question pending.”

  “I’ll fix that,” said Jack. He was still operating on a hunch, but one glance back at Isa confirmed that his instincts were spot on. He framed his question with confidence.

  “Ms. Morales, I understand how difficult this may be for you, but can you please tell us: Were you sexually assaulted by Felipe Bornelli?”

  Silence. She didn’t answer.

  You can do it, Jack told her, but only in his thoughts.

  The judge prodded. “Ms. Morales, you must answer the question.”

  “I’m sorry. Could you ask it again?”

  Jack did. He waited. The courtroom waited.

  Be strong, thought Jack.

  “Yes, that’s true,” she said, swallowing hard. “Felipe Bornelli raped me.”

  She’d said it. Aloud. In a packed courtroom. And Jack saw no signs of regret.

  “Ms. Morales, you testified earlier that you told Isabelle Bornelli that her father made sexual advances. Was that what you told her?”

  “Yes. I was afraid to say more.”

  “You testified earlier that you told Gabriel Sosa that you were raped by Felipe Bornelli. Is that what you told him?”

  “Yes. I told him that because it was the truth.”

  “So when Gabriel Sosa came to Miami, he knew that Isabelle Bornelli’s father had raped you.”

  Again Jack sensed that the prosecutor wanted to object, but she didn’t pull the trigger.

  “Yes,” said Alicia. “He knew. Because that’s what I told him.”

  Jack smiled with his eyes at Alicia—nothing obvious, just enough to let her know that she’d done the right thing. Then he stepped back from the podium.

  “I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

  Chapter 70

  Monday ended with a whimper. Jack could not have been more pleased.

  Sylvia Hunt’s cross-examination of Alicia had done no damage. The prosecutor spent the rest of the afternoon trying to convince the judge that her testimony should be excluded as prejudicial.

  “Of course it’s prejudicial,” Judge Gonzalez told her. “I don’t think Mr. Swyteck called her to the witness stand to help the state’s case. The testimony shall stand as admissible.”

  Trial adjourned at five p.m. Jack made the decision to say nothing to the media. His direct examination of Alicia had given them plenty to talk about on the evening news. It was also important that Isa and Alicia leave the courthouse separately. The defense could ill afford an accusation of exerting undue influence on a witness and manufacturing evidence.

  Isa and Keith went to their apartment. Jack returned to the Freedom Institute. He had serious work to do.

  Jack’s toughest decision was whether to leave things as they stood or present additional evidence in Isa’s defense. It was clear enough from Alicia’s testimony that Gabriel raped Isa to even the score with the Bornelli family; the rape of Felipe Bornelli’s daughter was Gabriel’s notion of “justice” for Alicia. The second part of Jack’s argument was purely deduction: Felipe ordered the torture and execution of Gabriel Sosa to avenge the rape of his daughter. Jack didn’t have that evidence. Nor did he know how to get it—short of calling Isa’s father to the witness stand.

  “Any leads on where we might find Felipe Bornelli?” Jack asked.

  Hannah, Brian, and Eve were in the room with Jack. The whole team from the Freedom Institute was helping him at this stage, and the energy level was high. Victory seemed within grasp.

  “I have three investigators on it,” said Hannah. “Not even Andie’s friend—the retired FBI agent—has turned up anything.”

  “If he’s not in Miami, and we can’t subpoena him, I may have to make the decision tomorrow,” said Jack.

  Everyone knew what “the decision” was: Would Isa testify in her own defense?

  “Are you ready, if you have to call her?” asked Hannah.

  “I spent most of the weekend focusing on Alicia. It would be nice to have another day and put off Isa’s testimony ’til Wednesday if we can.”

  “You could recall Ilene Simpson,” said Brian. “The judge said the defense could put her back on the stand as part of its case.”

  “That’s a great idea, Brian. Can you get me a draft outline?”

  “Sure thing.”

  They divvied up a few more tasks—exhibits that they planned to offer, evidentiary objections they might face, and more. The others retreated to their offices. Jack was alone when he got the phone call from Alicia.

  “How are you doing?” asked Jack.

  “Oh, I’m okay,” she said.

  Jack could hear the stress in her voice. “Are you sure?”

  “Uhm—I’m with Fatima Sosa. At her house.”

  Jack could certainly see how that would be stressful. “Is everything all right?”

  “Fatima would like to talk to you.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about?”

  “What do you think?”

  That was a fair response. Jack hoped it was the breakthrough that would end the case. But it might have been something else. “I could be there in twenty minutes.”

  “I think you should come,” she said, the stress still evident in her tone. “I’m asking you to come.”

  The way she’d put it was a little curious, but she’d definitely conveyed that it was important.

  “Okay,” said Jack. “I’m on my way.”

  Chapter 71

  Jack drove to Fatima Sosa’s house—the address was still in his GPS from the trip with Abuela—and this time he parked in the driveway. Alicia answered the front door and invited him into the living room. Fatima wasn’t home.

  “But you said Fatima wanted to talk to me,” Jack said.

  “Alicia lied,” said Felipe Bornelli as he emerged from the dark hallway, joining them in the living room. “But it was at my direction.”

  Felipe was a holding a pistol. It was pointed at Jack. “Put the chain on the door, Alicia.”

  She obeyed, the chain rattling in her shaking hand. They stood in a triangle—Alicia near the door, Felipe closest to the hallway, and Jack at the window, in front of the drawn curtains.

  “Felipe, you’re making a huge mistake,” said Jack.

  “You made the mistake, Mr. Swyteck, when you underestimated me.”

  “There’s nothing you can accomplish by s
hooting me.”

  “This is true,” he said. “That’s why Alicia is going to do it.”

  “No! I won’t,” she said.

  Keeping his pistol trained on Jack, Felipe pulled a small revolver from his jacket. “Take it, Alicia.”

  “No.”

  He laid the gun on the end table. “Pick it up. Point it at his chest. And pull the trigger. That’s how this is going to play out.”

  Jack had no weapon, only his words. He tried to engage Felipe. “Who did you hire, Felipe? David Kaval or John Simpson?”

  “This isn’t a courtroom. You don’t get to ask questions.”

  “Gabriel raped Isa, so you paid her badass boyfriend to kill him? Do I have that right? You’re the revenge killer?”

  He smiled sardonically. “Revenge had nothing to do with it. Gabriel landed in prison because he tried to extort me. I put him where he belonged. Unfortunately, prison only seemed to make him bolder. I knew he wouldn’t stop with the rape of my daughter. He would blackmail me the rest of my life. He had to go.”

  “That’s not true,” said Alicia.

  “Sad, but true,” he said with a heavy dose of insincerity. “Aw, does that spoil it for you, Alicia? Did you think that after you told Gabriel you were raped he confronted me to protect the honor of his fiancée? Your knight in shining armor? Hardly. He wanted fifty thousand dollars.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  “Pick up the gun, Alicia.”

  “No.”

  “You’re making a very bad choice. It will not end well for you. I’ll shoot you and Swyteck, and I’ll have your mother living in a mud hut at the end of the fucking runway at Simón Bolívar. I’m offering you the only way out. Swyteck forced you to lie about me and Gabriel on the witness stand. You resented it. You shot him. You will be halfway to Venezuela before I call the police. That’s my guarantee.”

  There was silence. Then, slowly, Alicia reached for the gun on the table.

  “Don’t do it,” said Jack.

  She took the revolver and held it loosely in her hand.

  “You’ve shot a gun before, haven’t you?” asked Felipe. “Living in Catia?”

  “Yes. Don’t make me do this.”

  “I can destroy you and your whole family, Alicia. Is that what you want?”

  “I’ll shoot you,” she said, but she wasn’t aiming at him. The gun lay flat in her palm.

  “No, you won’t. I’m a powerful man, Alicia. That was the one thing you said in court today that was true.”

  “Everything I said in that courtroom was true.”

  “I raped you?” he said, scoffing. “Really? As I recall, I gave the little teenage whore exactly what she wanted. Now hold the gun like you mean it, take aim, and pull the trigger.”

  Alicia clasped the revolver in both hands. It was visibly shaking as she raised and extended her arms to assume the marksman’s pose. The barrel was pointed straight at Jack’s chest.

  “That’s it,” said Felipe. “Now pull the trigger.”

  “Don’t do this,” said Jack.

  The agony was all over her face. Her eyes welled, her hands shook, and Jack saw the quiver in her lower lip.

  “Don’t let him take any more from you, Alicia,” said Jack.

  “Ignore him,” said Felipe.

  “He took what didn’t belong to him. He took your life in Miami. Your fiancé. Your future. Your body.”

  “Pull the trigger!”

  “Now he wants your soul,” said Jack.

  “Do it!” shouted Felipe.

  Her grip tightened, and Jack knew that his window of opportunity was about to close. He searched his mind for a hook, some convincing angle to turn this moment against Felipe in an instant. He suddenly remembered the conversation on Saturday night in Isa’s apartment, how Isa and Alicia had reconnected at that rally at UM. Something had drawn Alicia to that event, just as Isa had been drawn there.

  “What would Emma Barrett do?” asked Jack.

  To Felipe, it was a strange name that threw him off guard for a split second; to Alicia, it was the tipping point.

  “Who?” asked Felipe, but before he could react, Alicia’s aim shifted from Jack to Felipe, and she squeezed the trigger. Then she squeezed it again. And again, and again.

  She stopped only when all six chambers were spent. Then she dropped the gun and fell to her knees. Tears flowed, seemingly without end, and her shoulders bounced in cathartic heaves.

  Jack checked Felipe for a pulse, but he was dead. He went to Alicia, knelt beside her, and put his arm around her. Then he put into words what he had told her only with his eyes in the courtroom.

  “It’s okay, Alicia. You did the right thing.”

  Chapter 72

  Jack was in court Tuesday morning for Sylvia Hunt’s formal dismissal of the case against Isa. Judge Gonzalez announced a judgment of acquittal from the bench.

  “Good luck to you, Ms. Bornelli. You’re free to go.”

  She went without delay.

  Isa, Keith, and Melany were booked on the late flight to Hong Kong via Toronto. An intern at the IBS Miami office would pack whatever they couldn’t fit in a suitcase and ship it to them. Key Biscayne wasn’t on the way to the airport, but they stopped by the house to say good-bye to Jack, Andie, and Riley. Isa wanted a minute alone with Jack. They stepped onto the back patio. Jack closed the sliding door, and they sat at the glass-top table, just the two of them.

  The cool breeze from the bay was starting to feel more like autumn in Miami. Jack could hear the chop in the bay in the darkness.

  “I know I wasn’t the model client,” said Isa. “I probably drove you crazy at times.”

  “Nah, you—well, actually. Yes.”

  They shared a little smile, and then Isa turned serious. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to Alicia.”

  “She’ll be fine. Felipe was armed and threatening to kill both of us. Clearest case of justifiable homicide I’ve ever seen.”

  “Does the state attorney feel the same way?”

  “Yes. I called Sylvia Hunt after the judge tossed out your case. It turned into more than the standard ‘no hard feelings’ conversation. Alicia will never be charged. Can’t say the same for David Kaval and Ilene Simpson.”

  “She’s going to prosecute them?”

  “Ilene Simpson never hired a lawyer. She really did fail to protect herself with a formal immunity deal. She was all about protecting her new boyfriend Kaval, so she left herself wide open to prosecution. Sylvia says she’s going after her.”

  “And Kaval?”

  “He screwed himself. His whole deal was contingent on staying away from Ilene until after the trial. The dumb shit practically had Ilene move in with him. He’s going back to prison.”

  “Well,” said Isa. “Who would have guessed it? A happy ending.”

  “Except that it’s not the ending, is it? You didn’t pull me out onto the patio to hear what I had to say. You wanted to tell me something.”

  Isa glanced toward the bay. It took a minute for her to begin, and finally she sat up straight and spoke with the demeanor of someone who had prepared her words but wasn’t necessarily sticking to them.

  “This won’t excuse all the aggravation I caused you. But it may help you understand some of my actions. I wanted you to know about this.”

  Isa reached into her purse and laid a single-page handwritten letter on the table. It was in Spanish.

  “What is it?” asked Jack.

  “This is a letter that my mother wrote to me before she died. She was sick—too sick to mail it. Or maybe she just didn’t want me to have it until after she was gone. My father was supposed to give it to me nine years ago at her funeral. He didn’t. He gave it to me when we met at Cy’s Place.”

  “Did you show this to Keith?”

  “No. I’ve never told anyone about it.”

  Jack took the letter. He could read Spanish fairly well, but cursive in the darkness was beyond his ability. It was bad cursive, t
oo—the distorted handwriting of a woman on her deathbed.

  “It’s an apology,” said Isa, seeing his difficulties. “My mother wanted me to know she was sorry.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  Isa glanced out toward the bay, then back. “Just so you understand, this is how my father tried to convince me that I should never tell anyone I was raped. Manny was pretty intuitive when he latched on to ‘no rape equals no motive.’ My father was of the same mind. Except that this letter isn’t about my motive for revenge against Gabriel.”

  “It’s about your father’s?”

  “No,” said Isa. “My mother’s.”

  Jack blinked hard, trying to comprehend what he’d just heard.

  “Your mother’s?”

  “My father never visited me in college. My mother did. She met David Kaval. She knew he was a thug. She hated that I was seeing him. After I told David I was raped, I called my mother. I was scared. I told her how angry David was, and I was afraid that he might take things into his own hands. I never knew it, but she followed up with David.” She paused, then added, “It wasn’t to stop him.”

  Jack suddenly felt things falling into place. “Your mother asked David Kaval to—”

  “To teach Gabriel a lesson. Not to kill him.”

  “But your father admitted to me that he was behind Gabriel’s torture and murder.”

  “Somewhere along the line my father got involved. My mother must have told him about her conversation with David. My father took control, like he always did, and it went to the next level—he twisted it to fit whatever agenda he had.”

  Jack caught his breath. “Wow.”

  “Yeah,” she said flatly. “Wow. So if this trial had ever played out to the end—if my father had lived to tell his story of rape and revenge—my mother would have been the villain. And she had no way to defend herself. Except through me.”

  Jack was silent.

  “My father abused her even in death,” said Isa. Then she looked Jack in the eye and said, “I’m glad he’s dead. I suppose that’s a terrible thing for a daughter to say about her own father, but it’s true.”