Deadly Distractions, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 6

by William Manchee

CHAPTER 31

  SHAKY WITNESS

  My strategy with Manuel Ortega had worked like a charm. Paula was served with a lawsuit several weeks after of our confrontation. I immediately answered the suit and noticed the two witnesses and the plaintiff for deposition. As a matter of professional courtesy, the depositions were set for the offices of Manuel Ortega on Sherry Street near Loop 12 and Preston Road. My usual court reporter, Betty Blake, was setting up in the conference room when I arrived with Paula. Because she was the defendant, I felt she should be there when I questioned her accusers. Ortega’s secretary served us coffee, and five minutes later Ortega showed up with the plaintiff and a man introduced as Raul Marcos.

  I said, “I’m going to have to object to Mr. Marcos being present during this deposition unless you have a good reason why he should be here.”

  “This is Miss Cabrillo’s boyfriend. She would like him present while her deposition is taken.”

  “I’m sorry, but I may need to call him as a witness. I’m invoking the rule.”

  The rule referred to the option of any attorney in the proceeding to object to other witnesses being present during testimony. You didn’t want one witness copying another witness’ testimony. In this case I didn’t want to give the plaintiff the comfort of any moral support or coaching her boyfriend might provide. Ortega complained about my objection but finally told Mr. Marcos to wait outside. After entering our agreements into the record I began questioning Miss Cabrillo.

  She confirmed what I had learned from Monty’s report that she was from El Salvador and was working here on a green card. I learned further that she was a political refugee and had been granted political asylum. She had met Raul Marcos while attending El Centro College and they had been living together about a year. Marcos was originally from Los Angeles but had recently moved to the Oak Lawn area of Dallas. She indicated he was a bartender at an Oak Lawn sports bar when he wasn’t attending classes at El Centro. After a couple hours we got to the day of the incident.

  “So, how long have you been a jogger?” I asked.

  “Ever since I came to America. My friend, Raul, he is a jogger and he taught me.”

  “Do you jog every morning?”

  “Usually. Yes. Sometimes.”

  “Okay. . . . How long have you lived in your apartment?”

  “Since January. Almost one year.”

  “So, in the last year how many times have you jogged?”

  “Ah . . . I don’t know exactly.”

  “In the thirty days prior to the incident, how many times did you jog?”

  “Many times.”

  “Thirty times, twenty times, ten times?”

  “More than ten times.”

  “Do you take the same route each day?”

  “No, I jog different places sometimes.”

  “Where were you jogging on the date of the incident in question?”

  “From my apartment I go to Keller Springs Road. Then I go all the way to Preston Road and back home.”

  “And were you coming or going when the incident occurred?”

  “I was just starting on my way when the lady ran me down.”

  “Okay, what side of the street were you on?”

  “Ah . . . the left side, I think.”

  “So you were jogging in an easterly direction on the north side of Keller Springs Road?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “When did you first see Miss Waters?”

  “I heard a car and looked behind me and there she was about to hit me.”

  “Wouldn’t she have been on the other side of the street?”

  “No, she was right behind me. I tried to avoid her but she came right at me.”

  “So she was traveling on the wrong side of the road and just ran you down for no reason?”

  Cabrillo squirmed in her chair. She looked over at Ortega who didn’t offer any help. “I don’t know what she thinks but she hit me hard.”

  “On your left side?”

  She looked down at her left side and then her right. “Ah, yes . . . left . . . no, no, right side.”

  “Were you perhaps crossing the street? Then I could see how she might have hit you on the right side.”

  “Yes . . . maybe crossing street.”

  “What made you decide to suddenly cross the street?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe—”

  “Objection!” Ortega shouted. “You’re putting words in her mouth.”

  I frowned at Ortega. “No, I’m not. I’m just trying to understand what happened. She seems confused about the facts.”

  I turned back to Miss Cabrillo. “You may answer the question.”

  “What question?”

  This line of questioning went on for some time. There were many discrepancies in her story and she seemed very confused about what actually happened. I decided it was time to put some pressure on her.

  “Did you know the two men who took you to the hospital?”

  “No, I never saw them before.”

  “Objection!” Ortega said nearly falling out of his chair. He glared at Cabrillo and said, “They didn't take you—”

  “What hospital did they—” I said.

  “Wait! the court reporter said, “One at a time please.”

  “You tricked her,” Ortega said. “Let me ask her a question.”

  “No,” I said emphatically. “You can ask her questions when I’m done. . . . Now, Miss Cabrillo, why did they bring you back to the scene of the accident?"

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  “Didn’t they, the two men take you away and then bring you back to Keller Springs Road after Miss Waters had left?”

  “Ah . . . I don’t understand . . . no, they never did that. I don’t know them.”

  “You do know them, don’t you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Objection!” Ortega screamed. “You’re putting words in her mouth again.”

  “You’ve met them before, haven’t you?”

  “No. Only one time.”

  Ortega ran his hands through his hair, took a deep breath, and shook his head at the witness. He was angry and he let her know it.

  “When was that?” I asked.

  “I don’t remember.”

  “A day or two before the accident, perhaps?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Ortega had gotten his message across to the witness, but it was too late. She had slipped up and lost all credibility. I continued to question her and used her sudden loss of memory to my advantage. No matter what I asked her from that moment forward she didn’t remember the answer. Soon she was sounding like a broken record. Ortega was beside himself and soon asked for a recess. After the deposition, Paula and I evaluated her testimony.

  “Ortega is in on the scam, obviously,” Paula said.

  “Yes, I guess we need to start investigating him as well. He may be orchestrating the whole thing.”

  “I can’t believe he thinks he can get away with this. It’s so ridiculous.”

  “Well if his other witnesses don’t do better, he won’t have a prayer of winning at trial,” I replied.

  After the deposition we went back to the office. Paula was too wound up to work, so she went home. I dug into my stack of phone messages that had accumulated while I was gone. There was a message from Toni Weller that caught my eye. I returned the call. She apologized and said she hadn’t been able to change Tex’s mind about opposing the temporary injunction. He was going to keep the money. I wadded up the note and threw it in the waste basket. Damn it!

  I was tempted to just call the bank and wire the money anyway. After all it was my life that was going to be in jeopardy. Of course, Tex might sue me or file a grievance that would end up costing me my law license. At least I’d be alive though. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. Maybe General Moya will blow it off. A million dollars is just peanuts to him. Damn you, Tex! You greedy son of a bitch!