Until Proven Innocent

by Gene Grossman

  I take another shot at getting some explanation of what we just paid for. “Do you think we’ll have any trouble operating the program? I mean, does your firm offer any technical support if we have a problem? Is there a toll-free customer support number we can call?”

  “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have any problem with that. The doctor obviously has had experience in the past, working with local law enforcement agencies. She knows quite a bit about how to operate both the Facial Recognition and Toolmark Identification segments. I don’t know why she wanted both Drug-Fire and IBIS, but she must have some need for them both.”

  Being the expert he is, he obviously recognizes that I haven’t the slightest idea of what he’s talking about, so he decides to put me out of my misery. “Drug-Fire was developed in part by the FBI, and is computerized technology that allows one to investigate and compare characteristics of expended cartridges with others, and those in the law enforcement computer system. Its database has been online since September of 1995 and contains thousands of cartridges and bullets. The system you now have here is also installed in hundreds of crime labs worldwide, is used by almost a thousand firearms examiners and technicians, and has processed close to one hundred thousand cases worldwide.

  “IBIS is an acronym for Integrated Ballistics Identification System and was developed by our ATF. The program is also known as ‘Bulletproof’ and ‘Brass Catcher,’ and has been online since July of 1996. Between those two systems, your office is now on the leading edge of Toolmark Identification and Ballistic Fingerprinting.

  “MANDRAKE, Face ID, Face It and Imagis’ ID-2000 are the leading products in computerized 2-D facial recognition software. ILEFIS, the 3-D program, isn’t ready for distribution yet, but when it comes out, your office will be one of the first to have it. I left a beta version of it for her to try out. It works by focusing on 64 facial features, like a chin, nose, lower lip, or eye. The researchers have identified as many as 256 unique shapes for each of the features, and the software program uses a set of numbers, like a number 21 nose, a number 32 eye socket, and a number 34 lip. What we wind up with is a numerical face code.

  “Security cameras scan the peaks and valleys of features, called ‘nodal points.’ The human face contains over 80 nodal points, but only 14 to 22 stable nodal points are needed for a successful match. Stable nodal points are those that don’t fluctuate with weight or expression, like eye socket depth.

  “So there you have it. Your forensics section is now one of the best equipped ones in the country, and the law enforcement agencies that referred us to you will no doubt be paying for your services soon, on a consultant basis.”

  So that’s it. The kid bought some detective software. Why, I still don’t know, but being the ultimate armchair sleuth that she is, I’m sure it will come in handy. I hate to do it, but I’ve got to ask one more question.

  “By the way, just so I can keep track of our finances, what did the total of that check come to?”

  *****

  Mister necktie has been gone for about a half hour, and I’m still sitting here in shock. I’m no computer expert, but I appreciate the value of good software programs. When the guy told me how many thousands of dollars we just spent, it really surprised me. In the past, the kid has never charged anything for helping out her cop friends, but maybe she can get hooked up with some private labs and start getting fees for us.

  I go to the galley, get out the dog biscuit box, and shake it. If Bernie is anywhere within about a half mile radius, it’ll get him front and center in less than a minute, and this time it only took about four seconds. I reward his attendance with one of the biscuits, and tuck a note into his collar with only one question on it: “Dr. Braunstien, did we really have to spend that much money on the software?”

  It only takes a few minutes before I get a response to my dogmail. The reply note has only one sentence on it. “If it doesn’t work to solve any of the cases we’re now working on and pay for itself by the end of the year, then the total cost will come out of my end.” Well, I guess that tells me something. I tip the messenger with the customary pat on the head and ‘good boy’ compliment, and he returns to his home base.

  Next to Stuart, Suzi is the sharpest businessperson I’ve ever encountered. For her to offer payment of this software out of her portion of the firm’s income, she must be pretty sure that it’ll pay off on our cases. Unfortunately our only open one is Tony’s, which I believe is a no-fee job. Suzi gets so much help from the local cops, that whenever they have a problem, she offers our services. Most of the time all we have to do is help fill out paperwork for different things like divorces, retirement, and auto accidents, but this time we got stuck on a murder defense. I’m sure the kid will figure some way for us to wind up getting money out of this case. She usually does. And if I know her at all, she’s already got driver’s license photos in her computer for every person that Tony’s team talked to. The kid stayed at Myra’s house recently while I was vacationing in the La Verne City Jail, so she no doubt she now also has Myra’s law enforcement passwords and can access all of the criminal records databases usually reserved for use by cops only.

  It’s nice to know how well equipped our modest law firm is. With this new knowledge I feel relaxed enough to sit back, flip on the flat panel television screen, and watch the Dodgers pre-game show.

  The local news practice of ‘if it bleeds, it leads’ seems to have worked its way into sports coverage too, because they open the show with news of a dead body that was found in the trunk of a car in the parking lot of Dodger Stadium. He couldn’t have been a ticket scalper, because the Blue Crew hasn’t been doing so well lately and there’s no problem getting a seat at one of their home games.

  The phone rings. It’s Stuart calling. I don’t even have time to say hello, because as soon as I take the phone off the hook, I hear his excited voice.

  “Peter, you’ve got to meet me this afternoon. I got a phone call from the FBI. They want me to come in to their West Los Angeles office. I’m supposed to be there in two hours. Please, can you meet me there?”

  * * * * * *

  Chapter 13

  I haven’t the slightest idea why the FBI wants to talk to Stuart, but it can only be for one of the two things he’s currently involved in that touches on their jurisdiction. Either his Thai girls import service or his interstate gambling scheme. Whichever one it might be that raised their curiosity, it’s unlikely they’d call him in to talk about it, because that’s not the way they work. Their usual method is to first build up an airtight case against their suspect and then with the television cameras watching, storm his office and take him away in handcuffs. That’s a lot more fun for them, and gets more press coverage.

  “Calm down, Stuart. Did they tell you anything about why they want you to come in?”

  “Yes, they said they’d like my assistance in a case they’re looking into. That means I’m not in trouble, right? All they need is my help. Right?”

  “Wrong. The FBI doesn’t need your help, Stuart. They don’t need anyone’s help. They’ve got a big budget and plenty of employees. If they need your help, it’s only to give them enough information to arrest you for something.”

  Stuart doesn’t respond. “Listen, Stuart, I’ll meet you there, but in the event that you get there before I do, it’s imperative that you don’t say anything to anyone. You know that warning they give people who get arrested? The one that has words like ‘anything you say can and will be used against you?’ Well they really mean it. Don’t say a word to anyone unless I let you know that it’s okay.”

  “Peter, I really appreciate this, I mean your meeting me on such short notice. I want you to know that your meter will be running from the time we hang up the phone. Is that okay?”

  “No Stuart, it’s not okay. The meter started running when I picked up the phone.”

  With all of his business enterprises running so successfully, Stuart is doing quite well now. He’s scared out of hi
s wits, and that’s the best kind of client to have, because when they’re that scared, they have more of a tendency to hide behind you and let you run things the way you see fit.

  The Marina is about fifteen miles closer to the West Los Angeles Federal Building than Stuart’s office is, so I’m having no difficulty in getting there before he arrives. I give my card to the receptionist and in just a few minutes one of Snell’s drones comes out to escort me back to his boss’ office. When attaching a visitor’s pass to my pocket, I ask the agent to tell the receptionist to please call Snell’s office when Stuart arrives.

  As usual, Snell is not very excited to see me.

  “Hello Sharp, what brings you in here today? I hope it’s to give me some additional info on that movie piracy gang.”

  “Not quite. You called a client of mine and asked him to come in this afternoon. For some strange reason he felt intimidated by your request, so he asked me to hold his hand while you try to beat some information out of him.”

  “Very funny, but he really doesn’t have that much to worry about, because it’s a murder that we’re investigating, and in no way do we like him for the actual crime. We do think that he’s had some connection with the victim, and that’s why we want to talk to him.”

  “That’s interesting. I didn’t know that the FBI investigated murders in this town. Isn’t that local police business?”

  Our friendly chat is interrupted by Snell’s intercom. He picks up his phone, gets the message, and nods at his assistant, who then leaves the room.

  “Your client is here.”

  Stuart is led into the office and he’s as white as a ghost. He sits down in a chair next to me and the look on his face tells me that he’s too frightened to talk. Snell starts in.

  “Mister Schwartzman, are you acquainted with a man named Joey the Flange?”

  Stuart doesn’t answer. He just sits there, frozen.

  “The reason I’m asking if you know him, is because we found your name and number in his personal belongings. To be quite honest, Mister Schwarzman, Mister Flange is the name of a dead person who was discovered in the trunk of a car parked outside of Dodger Stadium - a car trunk that had stolen New Jersey license plates on it. Now we all know that a car trunk isn’t usually where a person who dies of natural causes would be, so the location of his final resting place, along with the small caliber bullet hole in the back of his skull has led our top notch lab technicians to believe that there may have been some foul play involved in his untimely death. So, I repeat, are you acquainted with him?”

  I didn’t think it was possible, but Stuart is now whiter than he was when first coming into Snell’s office. With so much blood drained out of his face, I’m afraid he might pass out any time now, so I interrupt the friendly chat.

  “Stuart, you don’t look so good. Why don’t you come over here and relax on the couch?”

  Snell knows exactly what I’m doing, because he also noticed how white Stuart was getting. As much as the FBI loves publicity, I don’t think they’re looking for the kind that they’d get if a witness dies in their office as the result of a stroke that occurs during a friendly chat. Snell motions for his assistant to get Stuart a glass of water and then makes the smart decision of directing the rest of his conversation directly to me.

  “Sharp, people in law enforcement don’t like coincidences popping up, and there have been so many in this case, that they’re just impossible to ignore. First, we have reason to believe that Mister Flange was involved in some illegal activity in his office building, like the selling of drugs, or bookmaking. Second, his phone records show quite a few calls to your client’s office, as well as numerous calls to a certain individual in Gardena, who is a known bookmaker.

  “We pulled your client’s phone records, and see that there are numerous calls to Mister Flange’s telephone number, and also the same number of calls to a telephone in New Jersey. The east coast telephone number is registered to a man who lives in a small apartment near the Newark Airport, and for some strange reason, he has six telephones there, which leads us to believe that he is also involved in illegal bookmaking.

  “The main difference between the bookmaker in New Jersey and Mister Flange out here, is that Mister Flange neglected to pay his ‘union’ dues, and was therefore in violation of the illegal gambling industry’s regulations.

  “Ordinarily, most of the bookmaking offenses are only misdemeanors, as far as the legal system is concerned, but the illegal gambling industry has a different set of rules. Let’s just say that their punishment for violations is a little harsher than ours.

  “The way it looks to us, your client has been making quite a few bets with both of these bookmakers, probably playing them against each other by arbitraging the odds, and that’s not a nice thing to do. In fact, because he was using the telephone and U.S. Mail, we tend to frown upon his actions.”

  I don’t like the way this conversation is going. Snell can’t do anything to Stuart on the murder case, but he might try to force Stuart to testify against the New Jersey bookmaker, and that might cause injuries not covered by Stuart’s Blue Cross.

  “Snell, why don’t you have your assistant escort Mister Schwarzman out to his car and let him go home to rest? You and I can finish this conversation after he’s gone.

  Snell looks at me for almost a full minute, and I can almost hear the gears spinning in his brain. He then tells his assistant what both Stuart and I want to hear: “Please help Mister Schwarzman outside to his car. He’s free to leave, and I don’t think we’ll have any further need for his assistance.”

  Stuart looks like a guy who just got a reprieve two seconds before they were ready to pull the switch. Some color comes back into his face and he follows Snell’s assistant out the door. He looks back at me with a tremendous look of relief on his face. I hope he knows that the meter is still running. Once the door closes behind Stuart, Snell looks at me with an expression that lets me know it’s my move.

  “I know you’ve got better things to do than chase after bookmakers, and the police are hungrily waiting for you to give them this homicide case back, so why don’t we get right to the commercial here?

  “In your infinite wisdom, you agreed to let my client walk, so it’s time for me to pay my dues. You’re still interested in the film piracy operation aren’t you? Okay, I’ll take your silence as consent, so here’s what I’m going to do. One of my other clients is charged with murder, and because he’s a twenty-year police veteran, a group of his friends have been doing a thorough investigation into anyone who might lead them to who the real killer is.

  “These guys are not interested in film piracy. All they want to do is find a killer and clear their friend, so the information they get, including photos of the film piracy gang, is of no use to them.

  “We haven’t finished sorting out all the details yet, but we have a pretty good idea of who did the killing, and it looks like it all centered around control of the piracy gang. My client’s trial is coming up soon, and if you and your gang want to show up there, I think that there may be a present waiting for you.”

  This gets his attention.

  “Are you telling me that you’ll be turning the piracy gang over to me on the day of your client’s trial?”

  “That’s the way it looks. But don’t worry, I’ll give you some leads in advance, so that when you make the bust, you can legitimately tell the press that you’ve been investigating the case for a while and knew that the conspirators would all be in the courtroom during this trial. It’ll be just like the last time. You’ll make the bust, and get all the credit.”

  “What kind of clues can you give me now?”

  “I can tell you the address that the operation works out of, but we still don’t have the final proof of who did the killing we’re interested in. I’ll give you some information, but you’ll have to give me your word that you won’t barge in and screw up our investigation just to get some advance publicity. This gang is operating all o
ver the world, and we’re still in the process of following the money trail. Also, there’s a possibility that the people we’re looking at are only the laborers, with some higher-ups actually calling the shots.

  “If you can just work on the part of the case that I ask you to, and use the tools at your disposal to find out things that we have no way of learning, then I think there’ll be a happy ending to both of our cases.”

  “Okay, Sharp, where do you suggest we start?”

  *****

  This meeting is a success. Not only is Stuart off the hook, but I’ve also got Snell talked into working for us. The one thing his guys can do that our guys can’t, is access income tax returns, bank records, and other information that we would never be able to get a subpoena for. One of Tony’s investigators got the license number off a truck that made an evening delivery to the Venice Soundstage. This was obviously a load of blank VD stock that Renaldo needed for production of the pirated copies. I ask Snell to run the plates and get a copy of that truck’s recent dispatch records, to see how much blank recording stock has been delivered to Renaldo, when the deliveries were made, and how they were paid for.

  The odds are strongly against Renaldo and his people reporting the income from their pirated copies. Knowing how many copies they ran, along with the knowledge that each one brought in at least twenty dollars of profit, can lead to the forming of an educated estimate of how much income they hid, and didn’t report to the IRS. This alone would give Snell grounds for an arrest. During the days of prohibition, a gangster named Al Capone did a lot of things, including murder. When he was finally arrested and sent to jail, it was on the only thing that they could definitely prove against him: avoiding paying income tax.

  My suggestion to count the blank recording stock delivered to Renaldo isn’t a new one. For many years IRS auditors have estimated the volume of business that houses of prostitution have conducted by a similar method: they would count the number of towels sent in each week to the laundry service, presuming that each towel represented one ‘trick.’