by Thomas Gatta
Maddie replied, “Kate, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say to you just now. I need to process this and talk to Scott. I think we have to use this recording.”
“I figured. I also figured it was better for you to know now. I’m concerned that what happened could affect my credibility as a witness. If Sean tells his lawyer, the defense may try to twist my testimony, tomorrow, maybe claim that the reason I’m testifying against Sean is that I’m a ‘woman scorned,’ or something like that. I’m afraid they may say that I’m lying, maybe concocting things to make Sean look bad.”
Maddie nodded and said, “Well, maybe. I think you’re more the ‘woman wronged’ rather than the ‘woman scorned.’ And are you seeking retribution?”
“I think the truth needs to come out. I think this last recording can help you make your case against Sean. And I want justice—for me and for Assadullah, Haji, and the others.”
Kate took a sip of her coffee, and, staring at the table top, shook her head slightly. She said, “You know, I believe in forgiveness. My sister is a United Methodist minister. She suggested to me that I have to look to God for strength.”
Kate looked up at Maddie and continued, “I know she’s right—and that ‘justice is the Lord’s’ and all that—but I also believe the courts should exercise justice. So, in answer to your question about retribution, I think I’d find it easier to forgive and to move on with my life if the court rules against Sean and he first gets his punishment.”
- 54 -
Cohen removed his glasses and polished the lenses slowly with his handkerchief. Then he looked up and around the table at each of the others present, Maddie, Scott, and Sommers. He spoke quietly, asking, “So, what kind of man does this? Records his boasts of killing school children and then his rape of a woman? And, for the love of God, why?”
Sommers, who had been staring at the play-back device, responded quietly, “Someone who obviously is sick. Maybe it was a form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Maybe it was the combination of PTSD, adrenaline, and alcohol. Who knows? I still don’t think the jury will convict him.” Sommers looked up then and said, “And if Bennett’s defense attorney is any good, he’ll argue that the woman wanted it, that Bennett’s behavior that night was only a repetition of previous practices with the woman. After all, didn’t she invite him to her quarters? And the boasts and making the recording on his cell phone? The defense will say it was the alcohol putting words into Bennett’s mouth and dulling his judgment.”
Scott shook his head. “No. Kate said ‘no,’ repeatedly. She was trying to scream. If we play that recording, we will shock the courtroom. It will make them understand that Bennett is no real hero. Whether it’s PTSD, or the man is simply evil, I think it will force some honesty into the deliberations. We have to do it. The jury may not agree that Bennett has violated MEJA, but they sure as hell can’t deny his viciousness, his amorality.”
Maddie asked, “What about Kate? I’m concerned about her.”
Cohen nodded, frowning. “Me, too. But didn’t she say she’d made her decision?” He stood up and headed toward the door, saying, “Play the recording. Let’s see how much the jury can handle. But Scott, I think you may be wrong. I think at least some of the jurors will try to find excuses for Bennett’s behavior.” He shrugged and shook his head, “Sometimes people see only what they want. I’ve got to go, but I think I’ll back bench it tomorrow.”
Cohen left the conference room but then stuck his head back in. He frowned and said, “Oh, by the way, we can prosecute the rape, separate trial. Bennett did it in her quarters, right? That means it occurred within the special maritime and territorial jurisdiction of the United States. The Patriot Act amended the federal criminal code to make portions of it applicable to crimes committed by Americans within federal facilities and residences overseas. So go for it. Prosecute the hell out of Bennett. Bye now.”
- 55 -
Andy Lloyd shifted his weight, trying to ease the pain in his right buttock and thigh. Could the jury seats be any harder? Sheesh. They weren’t doing his butt or his old bones much good. Good thing the trial was getting more interesting. The opening was scary, but then things had crawled along while the SU managers testified. Boring, boring, boring. Obfuscations. Spin jobs. Lots of efforts to distract everyone from what had really happened. Andy wasn’t even sure whether the managers were talking about the same incident and same people. Sure didn’t seem that way.
Then, yesterday, the prosecution had thrown a grenade. They’d found the brother of one of the victims and put him on the stand. The brother’s name was Assadullah. As he told the story of his family, living in the Arghandab region of Khandahar and trying to eke a living from pomegranate groves infested with Taliban, Assadullah had the courtroom enthralled. He’d named names. He’d given flesh to the abstract. He’d helped the court understand that it was considering the lives of real people, even if they had lived thousands of miles away.
Then Assadullah had moved on to talk about his thirteen-year-old brother Haji. Assadullah had shown the court a picture of Haji, a brown-haired boy with a wide smile who, except for his loose Afghan clothing might have fit in in any middle school in northern Virginia. Assadullah had explained that Haji had been a good student and the hope of his parents. They’d wanted him to go to a university, eventually, and to use his love of science to become a doctor. Assadullah had told the court that his family had wanted to protect Haji, so they sent him away to school, where they thought he would be safer than at home.
Andy had had trouble listening to the pain in Assadullah’s voice as he had continued his story about being called to the school to collect Haji’s body. Andy wasn’t the only one. He’d noticed Dan’s knuckles were white where he was gripping the front of the jury box. Bella had let the tears run down her checks, unchecked. Andy had noticed that many of the spectators in the courtroom were similarly moved. The Kleenexes were being pulled out of pockets and handbags all through the room. Vivian hadn’t cried, though. She’d been watching the defense table and examining her perfect cuticles. The defendant, Bennett, had simply shaken his head and rolled his eyes.
The prosecution hadn’t left the court with just a sob story. They’d had Assadullah describe, in detail, the scene he’d found at the school. The prosecution had asked about the condition of the bodies, Assadullah’s discussions with the Afghans who the raiders had pulled from the school before the shootings, and Assadullah’s and his father’s efforts to determine from local officials and inhabitants what had happened. The prosecution also had had Assadullah tell the court about his conversations with the other students’ family members. Assadullah had said that, as far as he and his father could determine, none of the students had had ties to terrorists. The families of the slain students had tried to get information from the authorities about what had happened and had protested to their local leaders about the raid. Assadullah had told the court that President Karzai offered sympathy and compensation to the families, but no justice, no vengeance.
Then Assadullah had explained to the court, as he looked at the defendant, that Haji’s and his own honor were sullied, denied. He had explained that, in Afghanistan, the honor of the victim and that of his family is only reinstated when the family kills the murderer. The prosecutors had asked Assadullah if that was what he wanted, and he had replied that he understood that US courts were different, honest, and far better at bringing justice than the ones in Afghanistan. Assadullah had said he’d been told that courts in the United States were responsible for applying the rule of law to conflicts and could be trusted. He had explained that he had come to the United States to escape all the killing in Afghanistan and to start over. He wanted to build a new family with his wife. Assadullah had said he was willing to give the US legal system a chance.
Andy had noticed that, as Assadullah had finished his testimony, even the judge had looked moved. She had removed her glasses and cleaned them carefully before putting them back on and asking the defense
attorney if he had any questions. He hadn’t. He’d looked as if he wanted to puke.
As he rearranged his butt to try to achieve a more comfortable position, Andy wondered whether the prosecution had any more bombshells for today.
- 56 -
Assadullah wanted to weep for Kate. Or kill Bennett—for her and for Haji, never mind what he had said yesterday about giving the US court a chance.
The male prosecutor, Gardner, had put Kate on the stand and asked her about her job and how she knew Bennett. Then he’d asked her whether Bennett confided in her. She’d said he had and told the court that Bennett had boasted to her that he’d killed the schoolboys. Then the prosecutor had asked about the recordings Kate had made of Bennett’s telephone messages to her during the trial. Gardner played the messages.
Assadullah wasn’t surprised about what was on the messages. Kate had told him about them. But some of the people in the courtroom appeared shocked. He’d heard several “oh my gods,” and the woman sitting next to him—a reporter he thought—had gasped and whispered, “what a warped, racist redneck,” then started scribbling notes. Bennett had glared at Kate and had sat up straighter in his chair. His defense attorney had looked at Bennett and shaken his head.
After he’d played Bennett’s phone messages to Kate, Gardner had returned to his seat, and the woman prosecutor, Kozak, had gotten up and asked Kate why she’d made the recordings. Kate had said she didn’t trust Bennett and was afraid of him. She told the court that she believed he should be prosecuted for what he’d done. Kozak then asked Kate why she didn’t trust Bennett and why she feared him. Kate had said Bennett’s words and actions in Kabul, after he’d killed the schoolboys, had convinced her he was unstable and dangerous. Kozak then asked Kate about another recording she had provided the prosecutors and why she had the recording. Kate explained the circumstances—saying Bennett had sent it to her—and Kozak played the recording for the courtroom.
Assadullah knew before he heard the recording what had happened to Kate. After he had told her about Haji and explained why he needed to see Bennett face justice, Assadullah had asked her why she was in the courtroom. She had told him the prosecution had asked her to testify. Assadullah had nodded but asked whether she didn’t have another reason. She had. She’d told him she felt she had to be honest with him after what he’d told her about Haji. Kate had said that she hoped Assadullah, in knowing, would better understand her need to be there. She wanted to ensure that the truth came out about the killings and that Bennett was held accountable. But Kate hadn’t told Assadullah all the details.
When Assadullah heard the recording, he understood. Assadullah’s hands tightened into fists as he listened to Bennett flaunt what he’d done to the boys and what he was doing to Kate. Assadullah needed to take his Badal. He needed to do it for himself. He needed to do it for Haji. And he needed to do it for Kate.
- 57 -
Mary Rodgers sat back in her seat and looked across the courtroom at the defense table. How could such a bright, nice-looking young man do what he was accused of doing? But the recordings had been eye-opening. She’d had trouble listening to what the defendant was saying. It was so vile. And how could he record and boast about what he’d done to those boys and that girl? Well, Mary’s husband had preached to his congregations for years that the world was full of sin. Mary just hadn’t thought iniquity could come in such a nice package as Bennett.
Now the defense attorney was aiming to spread the sin, to make Bennett’s crimes look like nothing. The attorney was trying to convince the court that the woman Bennett had raped was eager for his attention and that she was some sort of Jezebel whom Bennett had scorned. The defense attorney was suggesting that the woman—Kate Gutzmann was her name—had somehow doctored or concocted the recording to punish Bennett. Mary wasn’t buying it. There was too much real pain on that recording. Mary shook her head slightly. In her view the words that had come out of Bennett’s mouth and his recorded actions should guarantee him a particularly toasty spot in hell.
Mary watched as the defense attorney asked the judge for a moment, walked back to his table, and looked at a note that had been passed to him from somewhere in the back of the courtroom. Then the attorney approached Kate and asked her whether she’d reported to anyone what Bennett had told her and what he’d allegedly done. She’d said her roommate had reported the rape and that her management had spoken with her briefly but didn’t believe her or do anything. The defense attorney had focused on Kate’s statement that her management hadn’t believed her—as though she was the one in the wrong. Mary rolled her eyes. Well, wasn’t that just like management? Do nothing, blame someone else, and make the problem disappear.
Then the defense attorney asked Kate if she’d gone to the Oversight Committees to report what Bennett had told her about killing the students. The courtroom got very quiet when she answered. Mary noticed that the judge and prosecutors looked surprised by the question.
Kate said “yes,” she’d reported her information about the boys’ killing to the Committees after her management failed to take any action. She said she’d waited years for her managers to act, but they’d finally closed her case about a year ago. She stated that what she read in the case closure memo she received convinced her that her management was “okay” with what Bennett did. But she wasn’t. She said she believed the Committees were her only hope for getting the truth out.
Then the defense attorney pounced. He asked Kate if she hadn’t tattled, snitched to the Committees, as a way to get even with the defendant because he’d earlier scorned her. The attorney tried to paint Kate as a betrayer of the defendant and of the SU. He suggested that a private spat with the defendant had prompted her to invent a story that had become the basis for the whole case against the defendant. The prosecution, of course, protested. But the defense attorney left Kate in tears. Mary glanced over at the defense table and noticed that the defendant, Bennett, was looking cocky again. Wicked, wicked, wicked, even if he did have the looks of the angel, Gabriel.
- 58 -
Simon looked at Bennett, standing with him in the hall outside the courtroom, and shook his head. “No, I will not put you on the stand. You will not testify. We just created doubt with the jury today about what happened. If I put you on the stand, the prosecution will attack, as I did with Kate Gutzmann today. You quite likely will end up harming your case.”
Bennett cut the air with his arm and replied, “No, I have to testify, you don’t understand. Kate made me out to be some deviant monster. I don’t want the court left with that idea. I want to tell my side. Yes, I boasted on that recording, and, yes, I sent it to her. Hell, I’d just slaughtered a bunch of terrorists—on purpose, I might add—and all I got for it was sent home…. Those were good kills. I told you before, the SU should have given me a medal. I want to tell the court that.”
“Oh, and what about the rape?”
“It wasn’t rape. We were drunk. Kate always had a thing for me. I just wasn’t interested in being tied down to any one woman. But she was available that night. She wanted it. That’s all there was to it. The prosecutors are just trying to make me out as some berserker.”
“And what do you think they’ll do tomorrow?”
“I won’t let them. I’ll stick to my guns. Plus, I need to tell the court what a vindictive, spiteful whore Kate is. I know that now. I should never have trusted her.”
Simon raised his eyebrows and looked at Bennett, “I will not let you take the stand. And neither will the SU. They’ve prepared a national security justification to prevent it.”
“What? How can they?”
“They are trying to protect you, and they can do it. They are claiming anything you may say risks revealing sensitive information. The judge probably will accept their argument.”
“Hell. That’s not right.”
“Not everything is.”
“I deserve more.”
“Maybe you do. But you will not take the stand tomorro
w. Tomorrow I will argue that MEJA does not apply in your case and that the prosecution’s argument that it does is inaccurate. I need to sow more doubt with the jury. And I need you to sit quietly and to try to look innocent, if you can.”
“Shit.”
“Yes.”
- 59 -
Craddock watched the defendant and his attorney talk as he punched numbers into his cell phone. Then he looked down the hall at the gaggle of reporters waiting to ask their questions and snap pictures. Time to tell Gannon about the third recording and recommend sending out the first press release—immediately. The Committees needed to look like they hadn’t been snoozing while the SU was overlooking wrongdoing. He saw the US attorney, Andrew Cohen coming out of the courtroom and waved to him. He’d known Andy for years. They’d both gone to the same law school. Craddock stopped his call as Cohen walked over to him.
Cohen smiled at him, shook his hand, and said, “So, David. How’s stuff? Your guys going to get busy? It might be time, particularly now that your whistleblower just got leaked. So, how did that happen, and how come you didn’t come to us with what you knew months ago? Might have helped.”
Cradock shrugged and replied, “I’m sorry, Andy. I don’t know who leaked Gutzmann’s name—maybe one of the staffers who thought it would help the SU. When Gutzmann came to us, we referred the case to main Justice, but we try not to reveal our whistleblowers or the details of what they provide us. We don’t want to risk our whistleblowers. Besides, the investigations have to determine the facts, you know that.”