by Denise Irwin
Juror Six then asked, “What did you think when you heard that information?”
“Quite honestly, I’m not sure what I thought. The Bureau trains us to trust our partners, so I guess I was shocked when I learned that I wasn’t working with an agent. I trusted my boss’ word.”
Smyth stepped forward, “Are there any other questions?”
The jurors shook their heads no. Smyth saw that Agent Henson’s testimony had shaken the jurors. “I think this is a good time to break for lunch. You will find lunch in the jury chamber room. Please discuss anything you’d like, other than this case. You’ll have plenty of time to talk with one other about evidence and testimony for the case during the deliberation.”
The jurors left the room, walking in a single file, like school children do on their way to lunch. Smyth watched as they left the room. Not one member spoke as they exited the room. He then turned and focused on Cassie, “Agent Henson, will you do me the honor of dining with me in my office, where I’ve arranged that lunch is served for us?”
She giggled. “Wow, I get to have lunch with the prosecutor.”
Lunch was already set up on a small conference table, when they entered his office. Cassie batted her eyes at Smyth, “What army did you ordered all this food for?”
“I had no idea what to order, so I asked my secretary to put together a variety of items. Trust me none of it will go to waste. The staff knows it’s here, so as soon as we leave, the staff will set off an alert that there’s free food in my office.”
Cassie laughed aloud, “That sounds like the FBI staff in Boston.”
They each filled their plates with a variety of half sandwiches and sides. They took chairs opposite one another at Smyth’s desk since the conference table was full of food. Cassie was starving, so she took a number of humungous bites before she asked Smyth about the morning testimony.
“Phil, how do you think it went this morning?”
He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin before he answered her. “Cassie, you could not have done a better job. I think you mesmerized everyone with your testimony. You answered every question with a clear, confident voice.”
“I don’t think I sounded very confident when they asked about Brutus and I started to cry.”
“You won their hearts. I’m just guessing, but about half of that jury has a pet of some sort. Even people who don’t, tend to generally empathize with the bond between an owner and the pet. How are the deputies treating you? You okay with them?”
“I’m fine. They all seem to be good guys. Who’s your next witness today?”
“Grossman, I spoke with him in the Marshal’s lock when they brought him. He’s madder than a wet hen, so, it’s my guess he’s a good choice to follow you.”
“When does Sam testify?”
“I’ve set the schedule, so that Agent Farlow will testify after Grossman. Sam will follow Farlow. Marshal Bradley of the Bomb Squad is also available if we need him to support Farlow’s testimony. Cassie, I’ve subpoenaed Schuman.”
“Is he here?”
“Yes he is. Several deputies brought him in last night.”
“Sam told me in the hospital that Joe was under investigation because of this case.”
“I’m not involved in that investigation, but his testimony will give us a solid base. Cassie I hate to abandon you, but I need to prepare my notes for Grossman. I’ll let the deputies know that they can bring you back to the safehouse, after your lunch of course. As soon as leave, the staff will trample you, if you’re not careful.”
When Smyth entered the jury room, he found all the jurors seated and ready to hear the defendant’s testimony. “Was lunch okay?”
The jury members nodded their heads.
“Good. The Deputy Marshals will bring the defendant to the jury room in short order. He will be in leg chains and hand cuffs. Many law enforcement officers refer to them as calming devices since the defendant might get a bit excitable. Please do not be alarmed when the Deputy Marshals bring him into the room. I’m also going to ask that you not indict him based on his restraints. A judge or jury has not convicted the defendant of any charges in this case, which means Grossman is innocent until proven guilty in the criminal case. When I complete my questioning you will be given the chance to ask him questions.”
Two deputy marshals escorted Grossman to the witness stand. His handcuffs were behind his back. One of the deputies removed the handcuffs and told Grossman to hold his arms in front of him. The deputy then re-secured the handcuffs. When the defendant sat in the chair, deputies posted on either side of the chair, Smyth looked at the jurors. Smyth smiled on the inside when every juror recoiled to the back in his or her chair. He didn’t know if that small movement by the jurors indicated fear or disgust. Grossman did not make eye contact with anyone in the room. When Grossman's eyes focused on the floor, it was likely the jurors would realize, subconsciously or consciously, he'd not made eye contact with them. The victim had not only maintained good eye contact with the jurors, she smiled when she took the stand. The average person would consider Grossman’s lack of eye contact as a sign of guilt. This guy is hanging himself.
Smyth moved closer to the jurors; it was a tactical maneuver used by many attorneys to entice the jury to believe the defendant repulsed the prosecutor by his sheer existence.
“Mr. Grossman, I apprised the members of the Grand Jury of the crimes you have been charged with. I will question you on those charges and by law you must answer them truthfully or we will add perjury to those charges. For the record, please provide for the jury and me a verbal response that you understand.”
“I understand.”
“Good, that’s very good.” Smyth’s tone was condescending when he’d spoken with the defendant, but that was also another litigation tactic used by many prosecutors. He waited for a moment or so. When he was ready, Smyth went for the defendant’s throat, much like Cassie’s dog had tried to do.
“Mr. Grossman, I was informed you had boxes of money stored in cardboard boxes in your basement. I could be wrong as to the exact amount, but I believe that the total amount was in the range of two million dollars. Can you explain why the police recovered that amount of money in your basement?”
Grossman kept his eyes focused on the floor and mumbled, “I don’t trust banks.”
Smyth chuckled and then asked, “Would you please look at this bank statement?”
He took the statement; however, he never looked at it. His eyes told Smyth what he needed to know. This man was full of hatred and anger.
Smyth took the statement from Grossman, then asked the defendant, “Mr. Grossman, is this not a bank statement for your banking account?” Smyth moved to the jury box and gave them the statement as evidence to his question. “Mr. Grossman, please answer my question.”
“I needed that account for directly depositing my paycheck.”
“The paycheck you received from the Federal Bureau of Investigation?”
Smyth knew there were no such ACH payments on the statement. He turned his back to Grossman and watched as the jurors examined the statement. When it was apparent that they understood Smyth’s question, he turned to face Grossman.
“No, that bank statement is for another account.”
“Is that right?”
Smyth took the bank statement from the defendant and handed it to Juror One.
Grossman looked at Smyth for the first time and smugly answered, “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Mr. Grossman, I’m going to give you a moment to think about what you just told me. The Federal Bureau of Investigation obtained all bank accounts under your social security number. This is the only account they found. Have you used more than one social security number?”
Smyth’s back was to the jury box; however, he felt the jurors lean forward in their chairs.
“Mr. Grossman, we’re waiting for an answer.”
“The account I used for my paychecks was opened under my mother’s social secur
ity number. She’s very ill, so I deposited my FBI salary into her account to pay for her medicine.”
“Mr. Grossman, that’s very humanitarian of you. I have two documents for you to review before I give them to the jurors.” Smyth handed Grossman two death certificates for Grossman’s parents.
“It appears, Mr. Grossman, that your parents are no longer living. If that’s true why would you have an account for your mother?”
Smyth took the death certificates from the defendant and handed them to Juror One.
“I opened the account when she was alive.”
“Mr. Grossman, when did you join the Federal Bureau of Investigation?”
“Two years ago.”
“Then it’s very interesting to me that the date of death on your parents’ death certificates is July 14, 1995, just a few years before you joined the Bureau.”
Behind him, Smyth felt the jurors move further to the edge of the chairs. The jurors were in possession of the bank statement, so to drive another nail into Grossman’s coffin, he asked, “Mr. Grossman, while I reviewed your bank statements, it looks to me like the deposits were in cash. You don’t have to respond since it wasn’t a question.” Smyth turned to face the jury. He waited quietly. The statement was under intense scrutiny by the jurors. Once the jurors finished reviewing the bank statement Juror One handed it back to Smyth.
“Mr. Grossman, can tell explain your elaborate security system?”
“Do you mean the system that surrounded the outside of my house?”
“Yes, we can start there.”
Grossman looked a bit more confident to Smyth, but that confidence was gonna be in the shit can in just a few minutes.
“I’m a real technical kind of person. I used laser beams to protect my house. If someone walked through a beam, an alarm would immediately contact me.”
“Contact you, and not the police?”
“I meant to say that the alarm would alert the police as well.”
“Thank you for clearing up that matter. I also understand the police deactivated a bomb in your basement attached to a laser beam device. I’ve been scratching my head for days wondering why a person would have a bomb set up to blow up his house. Can you tell me about that bomb?”
“Mr. Smyth, as you indicated earlier, the police found a great deal of cash in my basement, if some intruder tried to get my money, he’d blow himself up in smithereens.”
“Wouldn’t that mean that all your money would also be blown up, I think you said, ‘in smithereens’. Or do you store money in more than one location?”
“No sir, just in my house.”
Smyth thought to himself before he went on, did I just hear him address me as sir?
“Mr. Grossman, just to make sure I’m hearing you correctly, you in fact had a bomb in your basement to blow intruders to kingdom come?”
“That’s correct because you just can’t trust anybody these days.”
“Mr. Grossman, where did all that cash come from? The Internal Revenue Service has provided me with you tax returns for the last ten years. Your highest income was in 1994, where you claimed a gross income of $32,000. Before you answer that question,” Smyth handed the jurors Grossman’s tax returns, “I have looked for income from the Federal Bureau of Investigation and didn’t find any. Are you or are you not an agent with the FBI?”
Smyth gave him a few moments to answer. When he didn’t, Smyth pressed on, “Mr. Grossman, the jurors, and I are waiting for a response.”
“I periodically do undercover work overseas.”
“And you’re paid in cash?”
Grossman looked smugly at Smyth, “Yes sir, that’s correct.”
“Can you share the nature of that work?”
“No sir, I cannot. I’m a member of a secret operation, working under the authority of the President.”
“That’s impressive. I’ll move on to the second charge, the Attempted Murder on an FBI Agent, specifically, Agent Cassandra Henson.
Smyth moved to the large monitor in the room, he turned to Grossman. “Mr. Grossman, the jury has already been subjected to some photos taken by the police, but I need your help in explaining what was occurring in those photos.”
“Sure.”
When Smyth put the first photo of Cassie shackled to the wall, he saw that Juror Six turned her head away to look in another direction. “Mr. Grossman, can you please identify the person in this photo?”
Grossman spit his answer at the prosecutor, “You know who that is.”
Smyth casually said, “Yes I do. I think the jury would like you to identify the woman in the picture.”
“That is Agent Rebecca Grossman.”
“Excuse me, but didn’t you mean to say, Agent Cassandra Henson?”
“No sir, I did not. That woman is Rebecca Grossman, she’s my wife.”
Smyth did not need to elaborate on the fact, so he moved forward, “Mr. Grossman why is this woman shackled to the wall?”
“I was punishing her.”
“What was she being punished for?”
“She did something she shouldn’t have done.”
Smyth let that go past him. If the jury needed to know more, they’d have an opportunity very soon to question him.
Smyth advanced the photo and asked, “Mr. Grossman, it appears that the woman’s mouth is duct taped closed. Was that part of her punishment?”
“She would have hollered and disturbed my neighbors while I was at work. I had to prevent that from happening.”
“Mr. Grossman, when Agent Henson was taken to the hospital, she was near death. She reported to the doctors that you shackled her to your wall for four days without food, water, or the use of the facilities. Can you please explain to me, if it was your intent that she die in your basement?”
“If I wanted to kill her, I would have.”
“The hospital doctor’s report indicated that if the police had not rescued her when they did, she would have died within the twenty-four hours. Since she was under your care, do you believe her death would occur by natural causes?”
“Like I said before, if I wanted her dead, I would have killed her.”
Smyth turned to the jury. When he was satisfied that they didn’t appear to believe what the defendant was saying, he moved on to the Making a Bomb charge.
“Mr. Grossman, you have admitted to this Jury that you had a bomb in your basement. Did you construct that bomb?”
“Yes sir, I did. I’ve been trained in making bombs as part of my top secret work.”
“I have one last thing to say, so that I know we are all on the same page. FBI Agents charged you with Impersonating a Federal Law Enforcement Officer. Is there anything you can tell the jurors and me that substantiates you were unjustly charged?
“All of my employment records are classified on a Need to Know Basis.”
“I see.”
Smyth pulled papers from his briefcase. The jurors craned their necks to see what he had in his hands. “Mr. Grossman, the Bureau’s lab analyzed the prints that were taken when you were taken into custody. They matched the prints to your Rap Sheet. It appears that you served prison terms for a number of felonious convictions. Not that a firearms ruling is pertinent to this case, as it is a charge at the state level; however, I find it hard to believe that the Federal Bureau of Investigation hired an agent who had served felony prison sentences.”
Smyth turned the papers over to the jurors. He turned to face the defendant.
“Mr. Smyth, many of my investigations required that I work undercover in prisons, so that I blended in.”
Smyth turned to face the jury. “I have no further questions to ask the defendant. Is there someone among the jury who would like to pose a question to clarify his testimony?”
Not one juror raised a hand. Smyth asked them to remain seated while the Deputies removed the defendant from the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, no one should ever have to hear testimony on a heinous crime such as the o
ne we are working on. I am most grateful for the patience you have shown. Before I release you today, I’m compelled to remind you that you may not discuss this case with anyone including your spouse. I also would like you to know that tomorrow’s witnesses will testify on the technical aspects of the case. Thank you again for being a jury member. You may go. I will see you at 9:00 tomorrow morning.”
On his way home that evening, Smyth stopped in a local pub where he was surprised to find Sam having a drink. “Sam, do you mind if I join you?”
“Not at all, I just ordered a beer and a menu. Join me for dinner.”
“Thanks for the offer, I’m wired too tight to go home just yet. I end up scaring my wife who thinks I’ll give myself a heart attack.”
Sam chuckled, “I can identify with that. Was it a rough day?”
“No, it actually went better than I expected. I think our boy perjured himself on the stand today.”
“Is that right? Are you going to add that to his charges?”
“I’m not sure.”
Chapter Fourteen
November 2001
When Sam arrived at the federal courthouse the next morning, once again, Agent Farlow and Director Joe Schuman were there along with Philip Smyth. Schuman approached Sam. “Sam, I need to tell you what happened; can we talk alone?”
Sam looked him in the eyes, “No Director Schuman, we can’t talk. Whatever you think you need to say, you can tell the Grand Jury.”
Smyth asked, “Director Schuman, do you mind if I ask that you not speak with the other witnesses?”
“All I wanted to do is explain to Sam what happened.”
“Joe, you know very well that witnesses are not permitted to speak with one another before giving testimony.”
“Counselor, this is personal for me.”
“Take that to the jury, not to another witness.”
Smyth then addressed Agent Farlow, “Brett, you’re up first, so let’s head into the jury room. Grossman admitted he made the bomb.”