[2013] Consequential Damages

by Joseph Hayes

  “And Jerome saw the light, just like that?” Jake looked dubious.

  “Hell no, he didn’t see at all, not at first. That wasn’t the way things worked in our world. If someone hurts you or disrespects you in some way, you make them pay – otherwise you lose respect. That was Jerome’s reaction, and he wasn’t about to let it drop.”

  “But somehow you changed his mind?”

  “Jerome was just like I used to be. I thrived on respect. I didn’t have nothing else, but people respected me, and that made me feel like I was important. They respected me because they thought I was a bad-ass, and because I could play basketball. And Jerome always wanted to be like me. He craved respect more than anything. I told him I had it all wrong. I had a lot of time to think about my life when I spent those four days in jail, and even more since I’ve gotten to know Reverend Lonnie, and I came to realize that respect ain’t worth shit if it’s from the wrong people and for the wrong reasons. Respect shouldn’t be the goal – look at Reverend Lonnie—he’s not motivated by what others think of him. That would be an ego thing, and that’s not what he’s all about. I told Jerome I was on a new path—the only respect I needed was self-respect, and that comes from living your life the right way.”

  “I’m impressed. You must be acquiring the persuasive powers of a preacher. So you actually got through to him at that point?”

  “I don’t think so—not really. But when Jerome saw how important it was to me, I think for the first time he really understood that I’d truly changed, and that I was on a good path, so he was willing to honor my request and promised me there’d be no revenge. Then I told him about Reverend Lonnie’s formula—the one I just described to you. I told him that you really changed my life and that I wanted him to help me watch over you – that would be his form of atonement. He still really didn’t buy what I was saying, but he agreed to do it because he saw how important it was to me. Well, he took the assignment to heart and started feeling like he was doing something important – and something good. And that feeling began to open his mind and his heart. I’ve really seen a difference in him over the past two months, and that’s been the most gratifying thing in the world to me. I am eternally thankful. Maybe you didn’t even realize it, but you helped me get on the right path, and that eventually helped Jerome do the same. We owe you, Stanford. We will always owe you. Thanks, man.”

  CHAPTER 57

  Monday morning, the week after the USH trial concluded, Jake was summoned to the office of Demetrius Giannakis. Chief Tomczak was there, sipping coffee, as Jake arrived. “The Chief has been filling me in on your old law school buddy,” said Demetrius. “I thought you’d like to hear this.”

  Jake looked at the Chief. “Absolutely,” he said. “What's the latest?”

  “As a result of all the media attention, as well as a little prodding from my office, both the State Bar and the State Attorney's Office have moved quickly on this one,” said Tomczak. “They met with Black last week and really put the screws to him. They made it abundantly clear that not only was his law license in jeopardy, he was likely to face serious criminal charges as well. That could mean prison time and financial ruin.”

  “So how did he respond?” Jake asked.

  “The man is a born negotiator, and knows when it's in his best interest to cut a deal. He realized that the only way he would receive any leniency whatsoever would be if he cooperated fully. So he opened up and started talking.”

  Jake looked surprised. “What’s he saying?”

  “First, he admitted that everything Kenny Oliver said about the grocery store trial was true. He still says he never actually told anyone to lie, but he acknowledges that he indirectly encouraged the plaintiff and Oliver to do so. He told them what kinds of claims would really win the jury over, and lo and behold, those guys would tell him that's exactly what happened. So he never used the words ‘I want you to lie,’ or ‘I want you to make up a bullshit story,’ but they all knew exactly what they were doing.”

  “What a devious bastard,” Demetrius muttered, shaking his head.

  Tomczak continued. “As for the USH case, he admitted having secret meetings with Randy Kraft, and that the two of them concocted a scheme just like Randy told the jury. Black acknowledged that it was critical to his case to have a witness who would testify that there was intentional misconduct on the part of USH, and Randy was willing to play that role—until he had that last-minute change of heart on the witness stand.”

  The Chief stopped momentarily to let that information sink in. “But it gets worse,” he said, looking more serious. “Black admitted to hiring that white-haired goon who’s been following you around. He didn’t want to give up his name at first. He seemed scared of the guy. But after some strong-arming from the State’s Attorney, he said the guy’s name is Fowler.”

  Jake looked stunned. “I don't know what surprises me more—that he would do that, or that he would admit it.”

  “He didn’t have much choice. Our people put a lot of pressure on him. They let him know that we had some solid leads on Fowler. We were able to lift some fingerprints off the knife he lost in your driveway, and got good DNA samples from the blood on Jerome Tucker's clothes. They told Black that Fowler was a prime suspect in your wife's murder. If that was his doing, and there was any connection between Black and Fowler, Black himself could be looking at felony murder charges. They reminded him that Illinois is a death penalty state, and that if he had any hopes for leniency at all, he’d better fully cooperate. They also told him that, even apart from the accident, there were grounds to bring criminal charges on any number of other fronts, based on his conduct in the USH case as well as the grocery store case. That little weasel, Randy Kraft, apparently was pretty paranoid and secretly taped most of his conversations with Black. There’s some pretty incriminating stuff on those tapes. I guess Black’s survival instinct kicked in, and he decided to do what he could to save his own ass. He knows he’ll have to kiss his law license good-bye, and he’s hoping that his cooperation will keep him out of jail so he can retire young and enjoy his millions.”

  “So exactly what did he ask Fowler to do?” Jake asked.

  “According to Black, all he asked Fowler to do was scare you off the case. He thought you were getting close to cracking his key witness, and that if you were off the case, your replacement wouldn’t have time to really focus in on Randy Kraft. Even if you didn’t quit, he knew you’d be distracted, which might achieve the same result. He claims that he never instructed Fowler to assault you, and he insists he had nothing to do with your car crash. He was adamant about that. Oh, there was one more thing. Apparently, Fowler hacked into USH’s e-mail system and sent out an e-mail under some big shot’s name, ordering that documents be destroyed. He thought that would get the judge really pissed at you guys.”

  “No shit. It worked,” said Demetrius.

  “What do we know about this Fowler character?” Jake asked. “That creep is still out there somewhere.”

  “He's still a bit of a mystery,” Tomczak replied. “I doubt that Fowler is his real name. Black said he was introduced to him at a seminar in Birmingham, Alabama, sponsored by some class action law firms. He was described to Black as a resource who was highly skilled in many areas—surveillance, intelligence gathering, computer hacking, electronics—basically a guy who could be trusted with highly sensitive projects, and who got results. Although it was communicated delicately, Black was also led to believe that Fowler helped with assignments where persuasion was the objective. In other words, blackmail, coercion, intimidation—you get the picture. Black's impression was that he worked in some sort of military intelligence capacity years ago, but who knows?”

  This discussion was making Jake increasingly uneasy. “Is there any hope of finding this guy?” he asked.

  “Keep your fingers crossed,” Tomczak replied. “The FBI is running the fingerprints and DNA through their database. That may tell us who he is, especially if he’s ex-milit
ary or government. As far as where he is, we may have a good lead. Fowler and Black communicated through disposable cell phones. If Fowler still has his phone, we may be able to get a satellite trace on it. Our technicians are working on that as we speak. In the meantime, we'll keep our security detail at your house, but I can't imagine you’ll have any more trouble. The trial is over. He has no reason to bother you now. Hell, he's probably long gone.”

  “I'm sure you're right,” Jake said. He did his best to sound positive, but Fowler's image and his spooky voice hovered in his mind like an ominous storm cloud.

  CHAPTER 58

  “Mickey? It's Jake McShane.”

  “Jake! How are you, lad? It's great to hear your voice.”

  The voice on the other end of the line sounded strong and upbeat, the familiar Irish lilt giving it an almost musical quality. Mickey sounded like his old self, not like the beaten, shell-shocked wretch that Jake had seen at the conclusion of his trial.

  “I just put some newspaper clippings in the mail, but I wanted to call you first and share some news that you'll appreciate.”

  “I'm all ears. News from Chicago is always welcome down here.”

  “It involves some people you know—namely, Rick Black, Kenny Oliver, and Larry Doyle.”

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “I'm not sure I want to hear it, to be honest, Jake. I've done my best to put that sordid episode in my past.”

  “I understand, Mickey, but you’ll appreciate this news, I promise.”

  Jake proceeded to tell Mickey about the USH trial that had concluded the week before, with particular emphasis on the testimony provided by Kenny Oliver on the final day.

  Another long silence followed when Jake finished the story. “So what does this all mean? What happens now?” Mickey asked, pain evident in his voice from the reopening of old wounds.

  “First, it means that the entire South Side will know that you were the victim of a despicable fraud. To the extent people around here had any doubts about your character, this will exonerate you. Your good name will be restored. Second, Rick Black will be disbarred, and he’ll probably face criminal charges. Larry Doyle may be prosecuted, too. They could wind up in prison, and there's a good chance they’ll have to forfeit every penny of their ill-gotten gains. Third, you’ve great ammunition for a lawsuit against them. You may be able to recover everything you've lost, and then some.”

  Mickey sighed. “I don't believe I’ll be filing any lawsuit. Our legal system failed me the last time around. I don't want any part of it.”

  “But Mickey, after what they did to you, they should be held accountable, and you deserve to be made whole.”

  “No Jake, I won't do it! My last experience with our legal system almost destroyed me. Besides, I can never be made whole. Aside from the financial consequences, that trial cost me everything that mattered to me: my good name, my business, my friends, and perhaps most importantly, my faith in people. Until then, I really didn't understand how the culture of greed had become so prominent in this country. I didn’t understand the decline of our value system. That experience turned me into an angry and bitter person. It changed the way I looked at people. It changed me. It robbed me of the essence of who I was. It was a time of darkness and despair for me, but I'm past it now, and I have no desire to open up that part of my life again.”

  “I understand,” Jake said with quiet resignation. “I would just hate to see those scoundrels escape justice.”

  “And so would I, Jake, but it looks like justice will be done through the State Bar and the criminal court system. I don't need to get in the middle of that. Like I said, I'm past it now. I've got a new life here in Florida. I'm a deacon at my church, and I find it truly rewarding. It's what I'm meant to be doing now. I didn't plan it this way, but there's a certain symmetry to all this. I'm a preacher and a counselor now, and I'm in a position where I can influence people. I can help them understand the importance of honesty and personal responsibility, and the evils of greed and selfishness. I can't do anything to change the flaws in our legal system, but maybe I can make a difference by changing a few hearts, so perhaps some good can result from that awful experience with Rick Black and Larry Doyle. I'm at peace now, Jake. I really am. I won't look back.”

  “It sounds like you’ve a good situation there, Mickey. I'm really happy for you. Will you be visiting Chicago anytime soon? There are plenty of people here who would love to see you.”

  “I don't think so. Some hurts are too deep. I’ll never forget the looks people gave me after the lawsuit was filed. I gave my heart and soul to that neighborhood, and they abandoned me. I won't go back.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. But remember this: You did make a difference, Mickey, to a lot of people. Your generosity, your goodness, your dedication to the community … You were such a wonderful example for so many of us. Think about all those employees who worked for you over the years and watched you live your values every day. You showed us that honesty, integrity and service matter a whole lot more than the numbers on our paychecks. You've made more of a difference than you'll ever know.”

  “Thanks for the kind words, lad. It does this old heart a world of good to see that some of the young people who grew up at the store have grown into such fine people. I do appreciate the call, Jacob. It gives me some closure on that part of my life. But I'm not going back. My life is here now.”

  Jake knew Mickey was right, and was saddened by that realization. He realized he would likely never see his old boss again. He struggled to think of something meaningful to say but words eluded him as he choked back his emotions. “I'm glad I know you, Mickey,” he blurted out clumsily. “You take care.”

  “Goodbye, Jake.”

  CHAPTER 59

  The big man took a swallow of Jack Daniels as he looked at the newspaper article describing the McShane accident. That was not the result he had intended. This was a mess. That goddamned McShane! It was time to put an end to this. He knew what he must do. He caressed the revolver in his hands. He opened the chamber and looked thoughtfully at the bullets. He took another long drink, then he walked to the garage, climbed into his black SUV, and started the engine.

  CHAPTER 60

  It was Thursday evening, three days after Jake had learned of Rick Black's confession. He had just put Anna to bed and was sitting on his living room sofa, looking out his front window at a violent thunderstorm. It had been less than two weeks since Fowler’s ghostly silhouette had appeared in his living room in the midst of another storm. An eerie and unsettling feeling of déjà vu crept over him. He turned on the lights, and walked around the house, trying to assure himself that nothing was amiss. He checked the doors. They were locked. He looked out the windows, and saw nothing unusual. Still, he couldn’t shake his nervousness.

  Fowler was still out there somewhere. The police had yet to find any trace of him. Jake knew that, logically speaking, the man should be long gone, like Chief Tomczak said. He would have no reason to linger in the area, particularly in light of all the media attention. But that logic was not enough to erase the terrifying memory, which seemed to be rekindled anew with each flash of lightning and crash of thunder.

  There was a lull between thunderclaps, and he heard a soft knock on the front door. He froze, and listened. The knock came again, louder this time. Jake peered out the living room window and could see a large man in a dark raincoat, leaning toward the door with his head down, trying to avoid the wind and rain. He couldn’t see the man's face.

  “Who is it?” Jake yelled through the door.

  The man outside yelled something in reply. Jake could hear irritation in the voice, but couldn’t make out the words.

  “Who is it?” he asked again.

  “It’s Walter Tomczak. For Chrissakes, Jake, open the door!”

  Jake recognized the voice and quickly opened the door, apologizing profusely for keeping the Chief of Police standing in the rain. Tomczak stepped inside, wiping the
rain out of his eyes.

  “I'm sorry to drop by so late, and unannounced, but I just received some news that I thought you’d want to know about.” The Chief’s manner was grave, which immediately put Jake on edge.

  “Come on in, Chief. Have a seat,” Jake said motioning to the sofa.

  Chief Tomczak remained standing. “We found Fowler. Actually, his real name is Scott Radford. He was a former Green Beret, who worked in some sort of covert operations capacity. He left government service under suspicious circumstances about twelve years ago, and seemed to vanish from the face of the earth after that. Speculation is that he became a mercenary overseas for awhile and then turned up back here in the States three or four years ago. Since then, he's been doing freelance work for people like Black and other shady characters. Anyway, I came here to tell you that we found him. He probably had ditched his cell phone, but we were able to pinpoint his prior calls to a four-block radius. We blanketed the area with undercover officers and one of our guys spotted him coming out of a convenience store and tailed him. He spotted the tail right away, made for his car and took off. There was a high-speed chase and we had eight cars converging on him. He ran into a tollbooth doing about a hundred and twenty. He's dead, Jake.”

  “I guess I should feel relieved, shouldn't I?” Jake asked quietly. “I wish you could've interrogated him, though. There are still some unanswered questions.”

  “Maybe not, Jake. There’s something else. Normally I wouldn’t show this type of thing to anyone other than the next-of-kin, but I thought you should see it.” He handed Jake a note written on wrinkled notebook paper in shaky handwriting.