Justice (Counsel #2)

by Shenda Paul

  Jasmine Thomas takes the stand next, and I can tell the jury is affected by her story. Jones rattles her under cross-examination when he pushes about her sexual history. He attempts to present her as promiscuous, inferring that she’d indulged in prostitution before working for Joseph. I put an end to his line of questioning by objecting on the grounds of irrelevance, badgering and leading the witness.

  When invited to re-direct, I revisit Jones’ questions and encourage her to take her time in responding. At the end, I thank her, happy that I’ve successfully thwarted his attempt to discredit her.

  If the jury had been sympathetic to Jasmine, then I suspect they, like the rest of us, are sickened as they listen to Linda relate how she lost her virginity. Joseph, she says, callously dismissed her distress afterward by reminding her that she'd accepted the money.

  "He said, you signed the contract, little girl," she hiccups, tears rolling down her face.

  After what appears to be a heated exchange with Bryce and a somewhat bored looking Joseph, Jones declines to cross-examine. It would, given her distress and the undeniable veracity of her testimony, have been detrimental to their case to try and discredit Linda.

  Everyone’s relieved, I suspect, when Judge West calls an early lunch recess. Hearing the two young women’s testimonies was harrowing. I, particularly, feel sympathy for Linda's mother, who had to listen to her child relate her shocking loss of innocence. One of the good things to come out of this trial is Linda’s reconciliation with her family. She and Jasmine now live with her mother and stepfather and are taking active steps to rebuild their lives.

  The courtroom has all but emptied, and Jodi and I are packing up when Joseph’s guards arrive to escort him out. He stops as they're about to pass between the defense and prosecution tables.

  "You seem destined to live your life with prostitutes, Adam," he taunts. My hands reflexively curl into fists as I prepare to confront him.

  "Adam, don’t," Jodi cautions, placing a restraining hand on my arm.

  I lower my head, draw in a deep breath, and battle to contain the anger searing through my veins. Joseph’s eyes widen, and his smug expression falters when, after slowly exhaling, I look up to meet his gaze. He gathers himself and is about to say something, I think, but his escorts yank him by the arms, practically lifting him off the ground to unceremoniously march him away.

  "Mr. Cordi doesn't appear to have grasped the seriousness of his situation yet. I'll have another word with him," Bryce apologizes for his client.

  "Don't waste your time, but you can deliver a message from me if you like. Tell him I'm no longer the little boy whose mother he took advantage of and destroyed. Tell him I’m not intimidated and remind him that I'm good at my job and won't rest until he gets exactly what he deserves."

  He nods before rejoining Jones.

  "I'm impressed," Jodi remarks as we leave.

  "You should be; you probably prevented a murder. Thanks," I add with a wry smile.

  "Anytime, Adam," she says, squeezing my arm. "Same place for lunch?" she then adds.

  "Why not? I think there may be still be something on the menu we haven’t tried."

  .

  .

  I listen as Travis Jones cross-examines Carmen Bonnaci, the Commonwealth’s last witness.

  Directly after lunch and as a precursor to her taking the stand, I presented a number of documents from Joseph’s office that she’d copied. The contents substantiated much of the information already tabled, but it also contained excerpts from Joseph’s personal journal, in which he’d outlined his strategy to recruit virgins and girls to order. The terms for Linda Hall were included in those damning notes. A client, it stated, had paid ten thousand dollars for him to recruit a virgin under seventeen. This vital piece of information proved that he and O'Flaherty deliberately targeted minors.

  He’d also written about repaying a favor to a Mexican friend. The notation may or may not relate to Maria Riviera’s abduction, but Jon’s handed the information over to Texas authorities, who will use it when they eventually find and question Perez.

  Much of Carmen's testimony was a repeat of what she provided in the Wade trial, but it gave this court insight into the workings of Joseph’s mind as well as his illegal dealings. Travis Jones is now, as we’d anticipated, questioning Carmen’s motives for testifying.

  "Do you honestly expect us to believe you harbor no anger toward my client, Ms. Bonacci?" he asks.

  "I didn't say that. I said I’m testifying because it’s the right thing to do."

  "The right thing to do? The right thing to do would, surely, have been to go to the police years ago?" he snidely suggests.

  She protests, but he interjects. "No further questions for this witness, Your Honor."

  "Ms. Bonacci, would you tell the court why you decided to testify against the defendant?" I ask when invited to redirect.

  "I realized I was wrong to keep quiet, and mostly, I worried about what my daughter would say or do when she grows up and finds out what her father did and that I didn’t speak up."

  "Why did you choose to keep quiet for so long?"

  "Joseph charmed me. He promised he'd leave his wife; he said I was already like his wife and offered me the job as his secretary as a sign of his trust and proof of his intentions. I stupidly believed him, and I felt I owed him a wife's loyalty."

  "When did you decide to start copying documents and taking them home?"

  "When I finally understood how he operates. Joseph always looks for some hold over people; a bargaining chip, he called it. With me, it was my daughter. He didn’t say it, but I always felt he’d take her from me."

  "Did you, as Defense Counsel has suggested, start collecting the evidence only after you discovered that Mr. Cordi had another mistress and children?"

  "I was making copies long before I found out about her."

  "When did you learn the truth?"

  "She came to the club looking for money after his arrest."

  "Why should the court believe that you're not testifying as an act of vengeance?"

  "I know people may not believe me, but there's nothing I can do about that. I did wrong, and I’m trying to fix it. As I said, I want my daughter to know that I did the right thing in the end."

  "Thank you, Ms. Bonacci."

  The jury may not believe Carmen’s motives or even like her, but they can’t doubt the veracity of the evidence she obtained or her testimony about Joseph’s business dealings. The independent handwriting expert we engaged to authenticate the journal pages confirmed that Joseph had, indeed, written them. Jones may have done a competent job in questioning her motives, but he's been unable to refute her evidence.

  After tabling Paul Ryan and John Clarke’s affidavits, I announce that the Commonwealth rests. Ryan's testimony substantiated the documented evidence of Joseph’s money laundering from his prostitution network, Sigma, through Fidelity Properties. And Clarke's, although not vital, supported our claims that Joseph established Liaison with the prime objective of accessing, and then influencing prominent and influential men.

  Court is adjourned for the day, and Judge West announces a ten a.m. start for the next day.

  Chapter Ten

  Jones calls their first witness, Lanny Morris, who testifies that Fico Moretti hired him as a dealer. He claims Moretti worked for himself, and when asked to explain Moretti’s operation, describes a procedure for the supply of his weekly stash and money exchanges that fits almost perfectly with the model Moretti and Barnes outlined for the Cordis’ drug business.

  Jones then asks what he knows of Perez. Morris says that Moretti only ever referred to Perez as a business associate of his and not of Joseph Cordi’s.

  "Mr. Morris, do you know my client?" Jones continues.

  "No," he replies.

  "Have you ever seen Mr. Cordi in the presence of Fico Moretti?"

 
"No."

  "Have you ever seen Mr. Cordi when not in the presence of Mr. Moretti?"

  "Never."

  "Did Mr. Moretti ever mention my client by name, or refer to him as the boss—did he refer to anyone as his boss?" Jones presses.

  "No," Morris responds decisively.

  Travis Jones thanks him and informs the court that he has nothing further. It’s my turn to question his witness.

  "Mr. Morris, how often did you meet with Mr. Moretti?"

  "Every week."

  "And where did these meetings take place?"

  "Sometimes on the street, or in his car, and sometimes in a restaurant or coffee shop."

  "You traded drugs and money in those places?" I clarify.

  "Yeah…but mostly in washrooms."

  "So you met primarily in washrooms—how long did your meetings last?"

  "Five, maybe ten minutes."

  "Would you call Mr. Moretti a friend, Mr. Morris?"

  "No."

  "Do you like Mr. Moretti?"

  "I don't have to like him. We did business; that's all."

  "So your meetings with Mr. Moretti never lasted for more than ten minutes, and you were not friends. Is that an accurate description of your relationship?"

  "Pretty much."

  "Then why would Mr. Moretti tell you whether he was working for someone else or not? What difference would it have made to your business dealings?"

  "Objection! Compound question," Jones interjects.

  "Sustained," Judge West rules.

  "I have no further questions for the witness, Your Honor," I announce, satisfied that I’ve cast doubt on his testimony.

  Tom Small, reputed to be an ex-district leader of Joseph’s, takes the stand next. A stocky man, aged in his mid-thirties, he has cold, blue eyes and close-cropped, dark blond hair. A tattoo depicting barbed wire starts at his Adam's apple and winds around the back of his neck adds to his threatening persona. He’s sworn in and asked to state his full name.

  "Thomas William Small," he answers.

  "Mr. Small, are you acquainted with Mr. Joseph Cordi?" Jones asks.

  "Yes."

  "How do you know Mr. Cordi?"

  "I used to work for his family."

  "What were you employed to do?"

  "I was a property super."

  "By that, do you mean supervisor?"

  "Yeah, property supervisor."

  "What exactly does a property supervisor do?"

  "Collect rent, fix things," he says, seemingly enjoying some private joke.

  "How long did you work for the Cordis?" Jones continues.

  "About ten years."

  "When did you leave Mr. Cordi’s employ?"

  "Three years ago."

  "Are you employed now?"

  "Yeah."

  "What do you do, Mr. Small?"

  "I own a tattoo parlor."

  "Did you ever, during your employment with my client, witness or hear about his involvement in selling drugs or committing other crimes?"

  "Some of my tenants who knew old Mr. Cordi told me some of that stuff happened a long time ago, but not now."

  "Old Mr. Cordi?"

  "Mr. Cordi’s father."

  "My client’s father?"

  "Yeah."

  "Do you know Fico Moretti, Mr. Small?"

  "No, but I've seen him around and heard about him."

  "What did you hear?"

  "Word is, he works for a Vegas mob."

  "Who told you that?"

  "Working in a tattoo parlor, people tell you stuff."

  "Objection, Your Honor. Hearsay," I interject.

  "Sustained," Judge West decides.

  "Are you sure Fico Moretti didn't work for Mr. Joseph Cordi?"

  "Positive."

  "How can you be certain?"

  "I didn't once see Fico with the Cordis or hear anyone who worked for them say so."

  "Did you ever see or speak to other Cordi employees?"

  "Sure. I've seen Mick O’Flaherty with Mr. Cordi, and I talked to Abe Labinski, another super, who worked for him."

  "Thank you, Mr. Small. No further questions, Your Honor," Jones announces.

  "Mr. Small, what is the name of your tattoo parlor?" I ask.

  "C-Line."

  "A rather unusual name for a tattoo business, wouldn't you say?"

  "Not to me," he replies impassively.

  "Did the name already exist or did you create it?"

  "I named it."

  "Are you aware that the terms 'C' and 'Line' are street names for cocaine?"

  "No," he smirks, and I don't press; I've made the association known.

  "You testified that your name is Thomas William Small, is that right?"

  "That’s what I said."

  "So you did, but that's not your full name, is it, Mr. Small?"

  "It is my name," he says evenly. His eyes, however, tell me he’s annoyed.

  "I’m not suggesting that it isn't, rather that it is not your full name. What is your date of birth?"

  "Objection, Your Honor. Irrelevant," Jones calls out.

  "Your Honor, we wish to prove that the witness is not being entirely truthful."

  "I'll allow."

  "Would you state your date of birth, please?" I repeat.

  "May second, nineteen-seventy-seven." Small glowers at me now.

  "And where were you born?"

  "Boston."

  "What are your parents' names?"

  "Diane and William Small."

  "Diane Catherine and William Algernon?"

  "How…."

  "Were your parents' names Diane Catherine and William Algernon Small?" I cut him off.

  "Yeah!" he snaps.

  "Mr. Small, now would you now tell the court your full name?"

  He remains silent, red-faced with anger. "Perhaps this will jog your memory," I continue, illuminating a document onscreen.

  "This, Your Honor, Ladies, and Gentlemen, is the birth certificate for a son born to Diane Catherine and William Algernon Small at Massachusetts General Hospital, on May second, nineteen-seventy-seven. No record for another child of that name having been born on that day in the state of Massachusetts exists." I highlight the relevant information before turning back to the witness stand.

  "Mr. Small, would you now state your full name?"

  "Thomas William Algernon Small," he replies through clenched teeth.

  "You've said you worked for the Cordis for ten years and that you stopped three years ago, is that correct?"

  "About three years ago."

  "Are you sure about the timing?"

  "Yes, but I don't know the exact date."

  "Do you remember when you opened your tattoo parlor?"

  "September, two thousand and ten."

  "Would that be the establishment called C-Line?"

  "Yeah."

  "Do you recognize this?" I ask, projecting another visual onto the screen.

  "No," he says curtly.

  "Oh, I'm sure that you do, Mr. Small."

  "Your Honor, Ladies, and Gentlemen, this is Exhibit Eight, a weekly report for a district that formed part of the defendant's territory. Someone called Tom Algernon, as you can see, is listed as the district leader. The document is dated April, two thousand and fourteen, the month before the defendant's arrest. This line here details income derived from rent collections, while these show revenue from the sale of drugs," I say, highlighting each line as I go, before pausing for jurors to make notes.

  "These sources of drug revenue list the names of men identified as Cordi street dealers, while this line here, as you can see, tables income derived from a source called C-Line. The witness has just admitted to owning an establishment by that name." I turn to face Small.

  "You, Mr. Small, are the Tom Algernon name
d in this document and the district leader for the territory to which this report relates. You did not leave the employ of the defendant as you have testified; you merely changed jobs. Your tattoo parlor was purchased expressly to operate as a location from which to sell drugs—Cordi drugs. You deliberately lied to this court while under oath."

  "You fucking…." He leans forward menacingly.

  "The Commonwealth has no further questions for this witness," I announce, unperturbed by his outburst. I’ve dismissed him from the stand, but this won’t be the last of our dealings with Thomas Small. He’ll be charged with drug dealing, and he’ll almost certainly be held on remand until trial. While he’s there, we’ll initiate further investigations to determine whether he’s committed any other serious crimes.

  It's somewhat ironic that Moretti, the man Small took the stand to discredit, provided the clue to his true identity. During our interview with him, Fico supplied us with names he'd overheard Perez drop in conversation. Tom Algernon had been among those, but it wasn’t until Jodi and I revisited the income reports seized from Joseph’s house that we noticed the names C-Line and Tom Algernon. Having come across the terms ‘C’ and ‘Line’ before, I informed Jodi about the reference to cocaine.

  Going purely on a hunch, she suggested that we check for possible links between Thomas Small, named on the defense witness list and Tom Algernon, the person Moretti mentioned. We found a record of a driver's license for Thomas Small that provided a date of birth. We then searched for birth certificates for anyone called Thomas Small and Thomas Algernon born on that date. Only one for Thomas William Algernon Small existed. We also discovered that Thomas Small owned a business called C-Line and concluded that Thomas Small and Thomas Algernon are one and the same person.

  Travis Jones looks somewhat flustered. His witness, and very possibly his client, has lied to him. To his credit, he quickly gathers himself to call their next witness.

  Vana Gomez is an ex-girlfriend of Moretti's, and under Jones’ questioning, testifies to having dated Moretti some eighteen months before. She then relates how, when on a girls’ night out, they met at a club. Moretti, according to her, claimed to be his own boss. He said it on more than one occasion and did so in the presence of witnesses, she tells

  Jones supports her testimony by presenting affidavits signed by three individuals, confirming that Moretti had, indeed, made those claims. Ms. Gomez identifies them as friends who'd spent time in her and Moretti's company. With that, Jones informs the court he has no further questions.