by Joseph Hayes
“Of course it does,” replied the judge. “Walter, what can we do here?”
“The Chicago Police Department is at your disposal, Judge. We can assign around-the-clock protection to Mr. McShane and his family. We will station two officers at his house, we can escort his wife to and from work and his daughter to and from school. I know how important this trial is, and the safety of Mr. McShane’s family is even more important. We’ll take care of you, Jake.” He put his hand on Jake’s shoulder as he said this.
“Thanks, Chief. I appreciate that.” Then looking at Judge Trainor, Jake continued, “Your Honor, I know we need to make a decision and move on, but I really need to discuss this with my wife. May I have a little time?”
“Certainly, just let me know by the end of the day. If you’re not comfortable proceeding, I understand. If that’s your decision, I’ll postpone the trial for several weeks so that your firm has time to get another attorney up to speed. I assume you would have no objection, Mr. Black?”
“None at all, Your Honor,” Rick replied. “I understand the seriousness of the situation, and we will do everything we can to accommodate the court and Mr. McShane.”
“Thank you—all of you,” Jake said, looking around the room. “I really appreciate your concern.”
Chief Tomczak looked at him. “You know, Jake, this may actually help,” he said, pointing to the newspaper. “Whoever did this will know that we’re watching closely now, and it may scare him off.”
That brought Jake little comfort. “I hope you’re right,” he replied, and then excused himself to return to Amanda, who had stayed home for the morning. A uniformed police officer drove him to his house.
Anna was snuggled up to Amanda on the couch when Jake walked in. Anna was reading and Amanda was doing her best to appear interested and disguise her worry. Jake kissed them both and gently asked Anna to read in her bedroom for awhile so that he and Amanda could discuss some grown-up business. Anna put on a pout-face, but immediately broke into laughter, as Jake lifted her up, flung her over his shoulder and carried her off to her room.
He returned and sat down next to his wife on the sofa, then did his best to recount the entire conversation that had just occurred in Judge Trainor’s chambers. When he finished, he took his wife’s hands in his and asked, “What should I do, Amanda? I will walk away from this case if you want me to. You and Anna come first.”
“Do you really think we’re in danger?”
“I’ve been asking myself that question over and over. My gut tells me no. Someone may be trying to scare me or distract me, but it really seems implausible that someone would actually try to follow through and harm us. I can’t understand who would have the motive to do that.”
“Who has the most to gain if your client loses?”
“That’s just it. There’s a ton of money at stake here, but no single person stands to win a whole lot. Rick’s law firm may cash in big, and Rick is certainly capable of dirty tricks, but I don’t think he’d do anything like this. So, logically speaking, I think there’s little risk. But then I think about Shooter …”
“But that was gang-related, isn’t that what the detective said?”
“Yes, but they haven’t had a chance to fully investigate yet.”
“And the police assured you they would protect us?”
“Around-the-clock protection for the duration of the trial.”
Amanda thought silently for a few moments. “If you back down and withdraw from this case, that means some bad guy gets away with manipulating the system. You’ve put your heart and soul into this case. You’re ready to try it, and you would do a great job. If you think this is most likely nothing more than a scare tactic, and we’re going to have the Chicago Police Department watching over us, you have my full support if you feel like you should try this case. I hate the idea of giving in to intimidation and letting some scoundrels get their way.”
“Are you sure?” Jake asked. She seemed more confident than he was.
“Yes, I’m sure. If there are any further problems, we can reconsider. But for now, let’s not give in to these scare tactics. It’s just not right.”
“Okay.” Jake nodded slowly trying to work up the same conviction his wife had just demonstrated. “Okay, I’ll handle it. We will proceed as planned. Jury selection starts tomorrow, and the trial begins on Monday. With a little luck, this will all be over in less than two weeks.”
Jake called Judge Trainor’s clerk and told her to inform the judge that the trial could proceed as planned. He would be handling the case.
CHAPTER 44
Shooter was in bad shape. The bullet had damaged his spleen and a kidney, and he had lost a great deal of blood. It had been touch and go the previous night, mostly because of the bleeding, but Shooter was tough, and he had pulled through. For Jerome, the sight of his brother lying near death in a hospital bed, connected to a massive array of tubes and machines, was almost more than he could take. Shooter had always been the rock in his life, the only person he could count on and the only person he’d ever really looked up to. He was the toughest guy in the neighborhood. He was a god on the basketball court. He was smart. He was a leader. People liked him. More important, they respected him. Shooter had begun a new life, and his future looked promising. The fact that a bullet had nearly robbed him of that future shook Jerome to the very core of his being. But the doctors said Shooter would survive. Jerome left the hospital feeling a profound sense of relief.
He also left with a feeling of resolve. Since leaving prison, Jerome had felt reasonably certain of the direction he would take. He had just needed some time to readjust to life on the outside. Now, after seeing his brother lying in a hospital bed, nearly dead from a gunshot wound he didn't deserve, he knew what he had to do. It was time to start his new life. He would not go back to the way things were. He had an opportunity to do something different, and his destiny was entirely within his own control. His path was clear. He too would become a man worthy of respect.
CHAPTER 45
Attorneys for both sides spent the better part of Thursday questioning prospective jurors and conferring with their high-priced jury consultants, trying to decide which candidates were acceptable and which were not. The press was not allowed into the courtroom during this process, but they were waiting in force outside the federal court building when the lawyers emerged. Rick had made sure that the media was well aware that the long-awaited trial was about to begin, and the media was eager to begin its coverage.
Jake looked out over the sea of reporters, with their cameras, microphones and notebooks. Their attention was focused on Rick Black, as he expressed his gratification over the fact that the day of reckoning for USH had finally arrived, and that thousands of patients who had been cheated were about to receive justice. Jake barely paid attention. He was scanning the faces, looking for a big white-haired man with a reddish complexion. When he saw no one with white hair, he looked for any large middle-aged man with a red, pink or ruddy complexion, assuming that the hair easily could have been dyed. Still, he saw no one fitting that description.
Then something caught his eye. A gaudy white Cadillac with a maroon top and gold trim was parked at the curb, just beyond the group of reporters. A large black man slouched against the car, legs crossed, muscular arms folded across his chest. He was young, probably in his early twenties. He clearly was not a reporter—he was dressed more like a gang member—but he was watching the activity outside the courthouse with keen interest. It didn't fit.
After finishing his speech about the quest for justice, Rick climbed into a dark Mercedes that had been waiting for him, and the throng of reporters dispersed. Jake began walking the three blocks back toward his office. The muscle-bound black man was still there, and seemed to be watching him. This definitely was not the man Shooter had encountered, nor was he the man who held the gun on Jake in the parking garage. He had seen the hand holding the gun—it was white. Who was this character? For some reason
, he struck Jake as menacing and dangerous, but he wasn’t sure why. His image was etched in Jake's mind as he hurried back to his office. He was just being paranoid, he told himself. He had no reason to suspect this guy of anything. He needed to put it out of his mind. He needed to focus. He could not afford to let himself get distracted.
CHAPTER 46
The next day was Friday. Judge Trainor heard several pre-trial motions regarding routine evidentiary matters, which took less than an hour. Jake had the rest of the day to prepare for the week of testimony ahead.
He felt ready. As in law school, he believed in preparing well in advance, so he could spend the final day or two relaxing and developing the right mindset, rather than cramming and escalating his stress level. He planned on spending an hour or two over the weekend fine-tuning his opening statement, and would spend the rest of the time relaxing with family and friends. As luck would have it, St. Francis, his former elementary school, was holding a reunion picnic for all alumni at the forest preserves southwest of the city on Saturday. It would be a great way to reconnect with old friends and clear his head before starting the trial. Amanda would welcome the social time; Anna would love the kids’ activities that were planned; and it would be an opportunity for Johnny and Corey to celebrate their marriage with plenty of good friends from the neighborhood. They had gotten married in a private ceremony in Puerto Rico the week before and had just returned.
Jake’s sister, Peggy, was planning on attending the picnic with her nine-year-old twin girls, and offered to drive. The McShanes were happy to hitch a ride, since Anna adored her older cousins and would enjoy riding with them as much as she enjoyed the picnic.
The parking lot at Carlson Woods was jam-packed when Peggy's minivan arrived shortly after noon. Jake was immediately glad they had come. He recognized numerous old friends before they had even made it out of the parking lot, and was reminded how lucky he was to have grown up in such a social, close-knit neighborhood.
The parking lot led to a large open field, surrounded on three sides by dense woods. A group of men was warming up on a makeshift softball field, preparing to begin what would be the first of many spirited ballgames throughout the day. A lively volleyball game was in progress, and several enterprising teenagers were erecting a badminton net. Swarms of kids ran everywhere.
A large crowd was gathered under a pavilion, where kegs of beer were wedged into large tubs of ice, attracting a never-ending line of thirsty picnickers. Johnny and Corey were sitting at a picnic table adjacent to the beer line, greeting the steady stream of well-wishers who stopped by. Jake felt a twinge of nervousness when he observed that Corey's former husband, Danny Flynn, was among the revelers; however, Danny seemed to be minding his own business and keeping his distance from Johnny and Corey.
Jake and Amanda worked in a game of volleyball and one of softball, but spent most of the day just strolling the area, visiting. Amanda was once again amazed at the social fabric of Jake's old neighborhood and the fact that he seemed to know virtually all of the hundreds of people in attendance. Jake, in turn, was impressed at how easily Amanda fit in and how comfortable she was in this setting even though she knew almost no one. He stayed by Amanda’s side for the entire day, not because she would have been uncomfortable otherwise, but rather because it felt so good to be with her. Their time together had been far too scarce during the preceding weeks as Jake was gearing up for trial. Now, as he spent a leisurely afternoon together with his wife, under a sparkling September sky, surrounded by old friends, and not thinking even for a moment about USH, he experienced a sense of fun and joy that had been missing for a long time. Life was good again. He was relaxed.
The atmosphere was festive throughout the day, and the beer flowed freely. The flow accelerated as the afternoon turned into evening. Jake had abstained, as he always did when he was in trial-preparation mode. He couldn’t afford to feel tired or sluggish. Johnny and Corey, on the other hand, found this to be the perfect occasion to celebrate their recent nuptials. They had been drinking heavily all afternoon, and as the pavilion transformed into a dance floor, they showed no sign of slowing down. Jake watched as Johnny lost his feet trying to perform an acrobatic dance move, and sprawled to the pavement. He lay there, looking up at the faces around him, laughing uncontrollably. Jake walked over and helped Johnny to his feet. “Hope you don't plan on driving home, pal,” he said.
“Hell no. A man's got to know his limitations, and I know mine. There are plenty of people here who can give me a lift. How about doing your favorite cousin a favor? Drive my car home for me?”
“Only if you can guarantee it’ll make it that far,” Jake replied with a grin. Johnny drove a 1968 Bonneville that he kept looking in mint condition, although it required constant maintenance.
“That dreamboat will drive forever. Enjoy the ride!” Johnny tossed Jake his car keys.
Dusk was falling, and Jake and Amanda decided to call it a day. The roads in the area were dark and narrow, and not well marked, so they hoped to be well on their way before nightfall. Anna begged to ride home with her cousins and spend the night at their house, and Peggy happily agreed. Despite their best intentions to make a quick exit, Jake and Amanda found themselves stopping repeatedly on their way through the parking lot to say their good-byes. As a result, they were not able to escape before dark.
The old Bonneville looked better than it drove. The handling was stiff, and the acceleration poor, but Jake was in no hurry. He had no desire to put any strain on the tired old vehicle or to risk their safety on the dark, winding two-lane road. Several cars had left the picnic at around the same time. Jake slowed to allow them to pass safely, and two of them did. In his rearview mirror, he could see the headlights of a third vehicle approaching from behind. Again, he slowed, but this vehicle did not pass. It appeared to be a large sports utility vehicle, and was soon following much too closely for Jake's comfort. The SUV’s high beam headlights reflected harshly into Jake's eyes from his rearview mirror. Jake reduced his speed, and the SUV pulled up alongside him, but did not pass. The Bonneville rode much lower than the dark SUV, so Jake was unable to see the driver. He wanted no part of this game, knowing that oncoming traffic could round a bend and be right on them in an instant.
He slowed further, trying to force the SUV to pass him, but still it did not pass. It maintained the same pace as the Bonneville, until suddenly, without warning, it veered directly toward them. Instinctively, Jake jerked the steering wheel hard to the right to avoid a collision. In the seconds that followed, Jake could see that his headlights were no longer illuminating the road, but were shining directly into the woods, which seemed to be rushing toward him at warp speed. The Bonneville pitched violently, its front tires losing traction as they sailed over the roadside drainage ditch. Jake heard the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass, and his momentum hurled him violently forward. For a brief instant he was aware of intense pain searing through him. Then all awareness ceased.
CHAPTER 47
Rick Black jogged along Lake Michigan, one of many runners, walkers, bicyclists and rollerbladers crowding the concrete path adjacent to the lake. To anyone who might see him, he was just another fitness enthusiast enjoying a perfect Sunday afternoon. They would be oblivious to the fact that he was a man on the threshold of greatness. Tomorrow, he would begin the case that would rocket him to the pinnacle of his profession, and open the door to obscene wealth. The world would be watching, and he was ready. All of his talents and experience, his drive and his ambition, his craftiness, resourcefulness and killer instinct, would coalesce and be prominently displayed for the legal profession and the rest of the world to see during this trial. It was his trial. Without him, there would be no USH lawsuit. He and he alone had developed this lawsuit into what it was. He was proud of that. He felt powerful, and the feeling was intoxicating.
Certainly a bit of luck was involved—he'd stumbled upon a case that was a surefire winner. But he was not a big believer in luck. Suc
cessful people created their own lucky breaks and knew how to capitalize on them. He was perceptive enough to see the possibilities in this case, and resourceful enough to develop it into a case with almost unthinkable financial potential. And, it was a case he could not lose. The only thing in doubt was the magnitude of the victory.
From the start, the case had developed as well or better than he could have hoped for. Everything had gone smoothly, and according to plan. Well, almost everything, and it was the “almost” that was eating at him now.
Randy Kraft was his key witness, the gateway to huge punitive damages, perhaps hundreds of millions of dollars. So much was riding on this squirrelly, little guy, yet Rick was not confident that he had the necessary level of control over this key element of his case. Fowler had not delivered—McShane was still on the case. McShane had been distracted, however, and had lost precious time. More importantly, McShane had not spent any further time with Randy, and Rick needed Randy to be calm and free from probing attorneys as the trial was commencing. Nevertheless, he was frustrated with Fowler, and surprised. Fowler was a perfectionist, and he was relentless. He prided himself on his ability to deliver results.
Another jogger fell in beside Rick as he passed Navy Pier. “I was just thinking about you,” Rick said as he stared straight ahead. “I've never known you to leave a job unfinished. Last I heard, Jake McShane was still on this case. You must be slipping.”