Intimidation incarnate.
Nevins dives right in with his testimony, all of which, when bolstered by the ostensive evidence, seems compelling. So compelling, in fact, I can’t even think of a way to refute it.
What’s our defense? “They’re lying.” Is that all we’ve got? Oh, we’ve got my testimony. My visions, my version of what happened when I pulled a gun on Colson.
All of Stevenson’s testimony atomizes into distant words. The portrait they’ve painted of me shocks me to the point of numbness. I’m really quite dangerous, apparently.
Nevins sits down. “No further questions.”
Before John approaches the witness, Judge Hardings points a finger. “Careful, Mr. Morgenstern.”
“Sir.” He’s a lot tamer on today’s cross, which makes me feel both relieved and somewhat peeved. Stevenson is a much heavier hitter than Maguire, the assistant director of the FBI serial-crimes unit. He’s the one John should pummel, isn’t he? But no. It’s almost like he’s throwing the fight. A chill creeps up my back. Could my attorney be on Colson’s payroll as well? Colson’s corrupted power stretches out deeper and wider than imaginable. He’s obviously controlling the media now. Did he get to John too?
“Mr. Stevenson, can you state to an absolute certainty that none of these documents and records entered by the prosecution into evidence have been tampered with, or even fabricated?”
“Yes.”
“Let me remind you that you’re under oath, sir.”
Stevenson smiles at John as though he were a five-year-old. “Which part of my answer did you fail to understand?” Subdued laughter erupts from the jury box and even from the judge himself. What are you doing, John?
John grins, but his ears and face flush crimson. “Nothing further.”
“Call your next witness, Lieutenant Colonel Nevins.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Please the court, the prosecution has just acquired new evidence in regard to the defendant’s assassination attempt.”
“Objection.” John hasn’t even returned to his seat, and he turns back to the bench. “I should have been informed.”
“I wasn’t at liberty to do so without compromising classified information.”
“Your Honor, this is unfair surprise. At least grant me a continuance to review.”
Hardings shakes his head. “You’re not in civil court defending the indigent, counsel. This is a military tribunal. You need to be prepared for anything. I’ll not lower the bar for you.”
“With all due respect, Your Honor, what in the name of—”
“Call your witness, Mr. Nevins.”
He nods to the guards in the back of the courtroom, and they open the double doors. “Your Honor, the prosecution calls President-elect Richard Colson.”
93
It’s an eerie portent. President-elect Richard “Thundering Rick” Colson stands ramrod straight with his right hand raised as the sergeant at arms swears him in.
Is this how they imagined it at the inauguration, where supposedly I planned to plant a suitcase-size nuclear bomb? To kill him and the faithful multitudes out by the Lincoln Memorial? The initial detonation would have killed him in the blast, along with the vice president and other dignitaries on the stage. The radiation would contaminate everyone in a five-block radius.
Excepting the thousands of innocent people who could get cancer from the radioactive spread, I almost wish it were true. This man is evil. And what makes him so frightening, besides the fact that he has so much control over this nation’s perceptions, is that he’s so debonair, so well liked, and perceived as such a hero.
Colson doesn’t make eye contact or even glance my way. But my hands are cold and damp anyway. The thought of his ordering the deaths of countless individuals and walking away with absolute impunity sickens me.
John leans against my shoulder. “You okay?”
“I think I’m going to be ill.”
“Can you wait until afterward?”
“How can you make light?”
He shrugs and points his chin at the witness stand. Nevins’s obsequious posture is almost laughable. “I would like to remind the court that President-elect Colson testifies today in his capacity as chairman of the Senate Oversight Committee on Homeland Security. I am deeply grateful for his taking time out of his busy schedule to be here.”
Judge Hardings nods. “Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel.”
“Mister President-elect, how long has the defendant been a subject of interest for the Department of Homeland Security?”
“I was not made aware of Homeland’s interest until she was arrested in New York for the murder of Stacy Dellafina. According to my staff, Homeland’s been eyeing her carefully since the summer of 2007, when she went on assignment to Iraq.”
“Is it there that she first made contact with al-Qaeda?”
John stands. “Objection, there is no evidence—”
“Overruled.” Hardings waves a dismissive hand. “Sit down, son.”
Colson continues. “We believe she had made initial contact in Iraq, yes. But the actual interest arose when the FBI began investigating the deaths of the Vietnam veterans who served under me during the war.”
“Did you fear for your life?”
“Son, I faced down the Vietcong in the Mekong Delta.”
“Of course, sir. Allow me to rephrase. When did you become concerned for your safety?”
Colson leans back in the chair, his hands folded neatly over his belt buckle, not a care in the world. “I had a campaign to run, an election to win. I let the Secret Service handle those concerns. But to answer your question, I would say sometime around August. They never used the term ‘assassination,’ but I knew they had their concerns.”
“Tell us about what happened the night that Xandra Carrick was arrested.”
“Following a lead by Assistant Director Maguire, I came to the Comanche Hotel.”
“The casino hotel? How did you fare?”
“I resisted the temptation.” A collective laugh rises from the old boys’ club. They’re all cronies here, and their next commander in chief is cracking jokes. “But seriously, when I came to the room where they had found Ms. Carrick, she seemed distraught that she’d shot Agent Matthews.
“I had planned on interrogating her, but she managed to grab Maguire’s weapon and pointed it at me.”
“Do you believe she would have killed you?”
“I believe she would have tried her best. But compared to some of the people who’ve aimed a gun at me, she wasn’t that bad.”
“Still, an attempted assassination.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t minimize the gravity of such actions. Homeland’s since explained to me her plans to detonate a dirty bomb on January twentieth at the Mall in Washington D.C. during the inauguration. I suppose she grew impatient and decided to step up the assassination date.”
“How many people are projected to attend the inauguration?”
“Experts estimate the turnout will reach upwards of two million.”
Nevins lets out a low whistle. “Two million people. That’s quite a large target.”
“I doubt she’d have gotten very close. Nevertheless, conspiracy to commit acts of mass terrorism is a serious offense. And she’s killed many people on her long road to infamy.”
Biting my lip, I nudge John. “Now might be a good time to object.”
But he doesn’t respond. His eyes are stuck on his watch, then his cell phone, which has been buzzing in his jacket with text messages. How can he act so cavalier? Is he tanking my case?
“Thank you, Mr. President,” Nevins says. “Mr. Morgenstern, your witness.”
John fumbles his cell phone, drops it on the floor, and apologizes. I’m face palming now.
“Counsel, would you like to cross-examine the witness?”
“No, thank you, Your Honor.” He peers directly at Colson.
“The witness is dismissed,” Hardings says. “The court wishes to
thank the president-elect.”
Colson gives Hardings a winning smile and a thumbs-up.
“However,” says John, “at this time, I would like to call a rebuttal witness.”
“Objection,” Nevins calls out. “He’s trying to make a mockery of these proceedings.” Colson pauses and stands next to him, awaiting the result of John’s latest antic.
“May it please the court, I never had a chance to depose the prosecution’s surprise witness.”
“Depose the president-elect?” Nevins scoffs.
“The prosecution’s case in chief is not over yet,” says Judge Hardings. “And even if it were, what basis do you have for a rebuttal?
“United States versus Grintjes, 2001, Seventh Circuit.”
Nevins stands, clears his throat. “This is improper use of a rebuttal, Your Honor.”
“And Peal versus Terre Haute PD, August 2008. The Seventh Circuit stated, and I quote: ‘The proper function of rebuttal evidence is to contradict, impeach, or defuse the impact of the evidence offered by an adverse party.’”
Hardings thinks hard on this. For all of two seconds. “Counsel, I can’t allow this.”
To everyone’s surprise, not the least mine, John walks up the center aisle back toward the double doors. “But Your Honor, if you’ll just—”
“The defense will be afforded the opportunity to make its case at the appropriate time.”
“Your Honor, I must insist you give me that opportunity now.”
Hardings stands and points a finger at him. “Keep this up, Morgenstern, and I’ll—”
“It’s all right, Your Honor.” He calmly pushes against the doors with both hands. “Just let me introduce them.”
“I’ll hold you in contempt!”
Ignoring him, John announces, “Officers of the court, the defense calls Ian Mortimer and Peter Carrick.”
94
The entire room erupts with confusion. Quicker than ever seen in this courtroom, everyone stands and turns to the doors. Not even when the sergeant at arms calls out “All rise” do they get up so suddenly. A clamorous wave sweeps through the courtroom. Nevins is objecting all over the place. Hardings pounds his gavel for order.
I can’t see past all the standing people, so I, too, get up. I can’t believe my ears, much less my eyes. Dad, dressed in a dark suit, walks down the center aisle; his abductor, my would-be killer, Ian Mortimer, follows behind him.
It’s him. It really is him. “Daddy!” I shout, unable to contain my joy and tears. But an armed guard stands in my way. My father meets my eye with a reassuring look that says, I’m here now. It’s going to be all right.
Oddly enough, before Ian Mortimer takes a seat in the gallery, he and Dad exchange a glance of camaraderie.
I turn to John Morgenstern. “What’s going on?”
“All hell.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Big Brother was watching. Had to be done under the radar.”
Dad is sworn in and steps into the witness stand. And as he begins his testimony, I can see the future. I don’t even need my Graflex to know.
95
THE PACIFIC LAW JOURNAL
AP Press Release
San Diego, CA
STUNNING TURN IN CARRICK TRIBUNAL—COLSON
UNDER INVESTIGATION
A dramatic turn of events threw the case against Xandra Carrick into disarray yesterday at San Diego’s Naval Consolidated Brig. The entire tribunal looked on with perplexed wonder when freshman attorney John H. Morgenstern of the San Diego firm Bauer & Associates pulled not one but two rabbits out of his legal hat.
Reported dead, both Peter Carrick and Ian Mortimer showed up alive and well as surprise witnesses for the defense. Both gave testimonies that not only impeached the prosecution’s evidence, but launched grave accusations against its star witness, President-elect Richard Colson.
Peter Carrick testified against him and provided evidence of his involvement in a massacre of innocent village inhabitants in Binh Son, during the Vietnam War. Carrick served as a photojournalist embedded with Echo Company, a Marine Corps unit under the command of then Lieutenant Colonel Richard “Thundering Rick” (or TR) Colson. Carrick witnessed and photographed the brutalities, which included the raping of young girls and the torture of children and the elderly. But under threat of retribution, the photojournalist buried this evidence. Until yesterday.
Fully aware of the self-incriminating nature of his testimony, Carrick went on record as saying, “My silence made me an accessory to the cover-up. And to the good people of Binh Son, home of my departed wife, Grace, I offer my deepest regrets and ask forgiveness.”
Asked if he thinks he’ll get immunity, or at least a lightened prison sentence for coming forward, Carrick said, “I’m ready to pay my debts.”
The most damaging testimony against Colson came from Ian Mortimer, who confessed to serving as the president-elect’s chief assassin for nearly twenty-five years. Mortimer confessed to a long list of murders he committed in compliance with Colson’s demands. This list includes Stacy Dellafina, Colonel Hank Jennings, and several other retired Echo Company veterans whom Colson allegedly wished to silence.
The details are classified, but the Pacific Law Journal has been informed by an anonymous source that Mortimer had been granted special access to many of the resources of the Secret Service and the Department of Homeland Security in order to cover his tracks—tracks that might have led back to Richard Colson.
Ironically, these very resources and connections helped provide records and other forms of inculpatory evidence against Colson. A spokesperson for the Federal Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission stated, “It’s too early to determine the scope of Colson’s influence throughout the conspiracy. But it is believed that several agencies, including the FBI, Homeland Security, and the Secret Service, have been compromised.”
A probe has been launched to investigate. Currently, Richard Colson is under house arrest while Jennifer Bradley, the vice president-elect, prepares for the most unexpected event in her life: becoming the first female president of the United States.
Xandra Carrick has been released and exonerated of all charges in light of the exculpatory evidence provided by her father and the man who was hired to kill them both, Ian Mortimer.
96
PETER CARRICK
Bright orange isn’t my favorite color, but I suppose I’ll have to get used to it. For at least ten more years. That’s what I’m facing when I enter my plea next week in federal court.
Seated in a tiny booth with a telephone and thick glass between us, Xandra waves hello. The prison guard leads me to my seat where I pick up the handset. “Hi, sweetie.”
“Daddy.” She wipes her eyes, smiles courageously. “I can’t stand to see you like this.”
“I’m all right, Xandi. Don’t cry.”
“You know, when Mortimer took you, I thought God wouldn’t take you away from me, not when you finally faced down your demons and returned to me. But when the news came out that your body was found, burned beyond—” She covers her eyes and sobs.
“Colson leaked that story to plug the hole on my disappearance. By the time he found out Ian had tricked him, it was too late.”
“I can’t believe you came back to confess like that.”
“I’d do anything for you, Xandi. It hasn’t shown for years, I know. But to me, you’ll always be that precious little girl I held in my arms the day you were born. Did you know that was the first, perhaps the only, time I ever prayed?”
“Really?”
“I promised God I’d do anything to protect you, even lay down my own life.”
She just smiles a wet smile and places her hand up against the glass. I put mine up to meet hers. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too. Maybe it’s a side of me you don’t know because—”
“I’ve always known. You’re a great man, a great father.”
“You’ve got more faith t
han I.”
“It takes just as much faith not to believe. I just made the better choice.”
I don’t think I can come up with the right words to express how much I love her. After all these years, my expressive skills have atrophied. But I’ll have plenty of time to practice and write her from prison.
“Daddy, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I did it for myself as well.”
“But twenty years.”
“Morgenstern says the AG’s office is willing to reduce it to ten if I plead out.”
“It’s not fair. You helped expose a murderous war criminal and they’re taking away your freedom.”
“No one’s taking it from me, Xandi. I’m giving it up. There’s no prison wall that can ever take the freedom I’ve gained.” For the first time, I can look my daughter in the eye, unashamed. As she says good-bye and leaves, I’m comforted by the knowledge that tonight, the faces of Bình Sơn will no longer haunt me.
And I will sleep.
97
RICHARD COLSON
I can only laugh at the irony.
They think they’ve taken down a war criminal, saved their nation from an unspeakable evil. All they’ve done is signed their own death sentence.
If they can’t understand that everything I’ve done, from the moment I joined the Marines until my election as president of the United States, has been to protect this country, then they deserve what’s coming to them.
Look at this mess they’ve gotten themselves into: Iraq, Afghanistan, the collapse of the American economy, threat of shifting superpowers. Who’s going to make the tough choices, the ugly ones? Neither my Republican nor my Democratic opponents had the balls for that, and now this country is going to be handed over to a president with no biological balls.
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