Probity: A Legal Suspense Novel

by Thomas Gatta

  “Sustained.”

  Maddie said, I’ll rephrase, “In your professional opinion, how old were the dead Afghans?”

  Mortimer replied, “I really don’t know. Afghans are a pretty scrawny lot, so sometimes they appear a lot younger than they are.”

  “Did these Afghans appear to be adults?”

  “Objection, Your Honor.”

  “I’ll allow it. Answer please.”

  “Well, some of them had beards.”

  “I see. When did you begin growing a beard, Mr. Mortimer?”

  Mortimer said, “What? Maybe 14.”

  “Smith said, “Objection, Your Honor. Not relevant.”

  McNamara said, “Sustained. Strike that from the record.”

  Maddie told Mortimer, “I have some photos here of the scene in the backroom.” She handed them to him and said, “Would you please review them and tell me who took them? And please note for the record that these are exhibits 66-78.”

  “Either I did or one of the members of my team, I don’t recall.”

  “When were the photos taken?”

  “The next day, when we went back for site exploitation.”

  “And are the photos an accurate depiction of what you found in the back room the night before?”

  “Yes.”

  “For the record, the photos show 16 males, each with wounds to the head, torso, or a combination. Is that correct, Mr. Mortimer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Mortimer, the night before, when you went into the room with the bodies, did you see weapons near the bodies?”

  “The weapons are in the pictures. The photos show them with the bodies.”

  “Mr. Mortimer, did you see the weapons with the bodies on the night of the attack?”

  “Probably.”

  “Mr. Mortimer, you are under oath. Probably?”

  “I don’t recall.”

  “Thank you.”

  Maddie had moved back to the prosecution table but turned and said, “Oh, Mr. Mortimer, another question, when you went back for site exploitation the next day, what did you find in the main building by way of written and other materials?”

  “Not much of use to us. Just a bunch of texts, some religious and some not, and some other books and writing materials, that sort of thing.”

  “Materials that would be consistent with those used at a school? Religious or other?”

  Smith said, “Objection, Your Honor. She’s asking for speculation again.”

  McNamara replied, “Sustained.”

  Maddie said, “Sorry” and turned back to the prosecution’s table. When she reached it, she glanced at her notes and said, “Oh, just one more question, did you add the photos to your ‘wall’ back at your facility?”

  Smith said, “Objection, Your Honor. This isn’t relevant.”

  “Overruled. Please answer the question, Mr. Mortimer.”

  “Not immediately.”

  “But you did add them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. No further questions at this time.”

  - 5 -

  May 2009, Khandahar, Afghanistan

  John looked over at Fred as they waited outside the largest house on the compound. Fred and Bob had rounded up some Afghans who were sleeping in the downstairs rooms and turned them over to the Afghan force that had accompanied them on the nighttime raid. Now they all were watching the big house and waiting for orders from Sean.

  Sean had gone back inside. He and his Afghans almost certainly planned to see what was on the second floor. The teams had been swift and quiet as they’d rounded up the Afghans on the ground floor. They’d grabbed some men and an old woman, but they’d managed to keep the Afghans from calling out. So, whoever was on the second floor shouldn’t know what would be hitting them.

  John checked his weapons and his watch again. Everything was on schedule. Soon they should be doing some slaying. Hopefully this time, he’d be able to add some photos to the wall. Sean and Bob had the highest kill counts. Both had well over a hundred kills they could add to their employee evals. They should be getting medals in a few months once the paperwork went through. John only had about a dozen photos on the wall, and he was due to rotate out in another week. He did whack the guys in one of the huts, but that was too easy. It shouldn’t count.

  As he scanned the upper floors, John saw flashes and heard thuds; the action had begun. But Sean hadn’t called them in, and they had to await his pleasure unless they thought he was in trouble. He wasn’t. He was too good, too thorough, and had too much ammo. John saw more flashes; Sean was using his silencer. John doubted Sean’s Afghan troops were involved. They liked getting kitted up and holding new American weapons, but Sean didn’t trust them not to fuck up operations. Sean cautioned everyone before every operation about the dangers of “friendly” fire. He really didn’t care if the Afghans shot each other, but Sean didn’t want the Afghans to hit any of the American team members.

  Everything was over in a few minutes. John uttered a loud “damn,” spat on the ground, and looked over again at Fred and Bob as they saw Sean exit the door of the house and wave them in.

  Fred said, “Shit, didn’t leave any for us, I guess.”

  Bob nodded and said, “So much for our slaying tonight boys. He’s left us out of the fun. Let’s go see what terrorists he’s adding to our wall tonight.”

  The two Afghan soldiers who’d gone into the house with Sean were in a large room on the second floor. They’d taken off their NVGs, as had Sean. The Afghan soldiers had shuttered the windows to prevent the light from seeping out and were searching the room with high-powered flashlights. They looked a little pale, despite their brown skin. John thought it was a good thing Sean had left them guarding the main room. They didn’t look like they had the stomachs for real slaying.

  John wasn’t impressed with the main room. It looked like it was used for eating and some sort of classroom instruction—no bodies and not much to see there.

  Sean, who had entered the second-floor room before them, blew on the barrel of his Glock and waved them into another room behind the main room. “Never mind the school room. This way to the massacre. I got all the mother-fucking cock suckers. No escapees tonight from this bunch.”

  John followed Fred and Bob into the back room and looked around with the help of more flashlights.

  More than a dozen Afghan males lay in or were hanging off their beds. Some looked young. John doubted one could be more than 12 years old. All were dead, and blood was staining the bedclothes and dripping to the floor. His boots slipped a bit as he walked farther into the space.

  Sean grinned and said, “Not a one got a round off against me.”

  John didn’t see any weapons near the bodies that the Afghans could have used against Sean. A few AK-47s stood in a corner. They looked shined and oiled, but John didn’t check to see if they were loaded or in working order. Time for that later. And it didn’t look as though the Afghans had had a chance to reach the AKs, in any event. All were shot in the head, chest, or lower abdomen.

  John shook his head and said, “None of these guys had a chance against Sean, the one-man killing machine.”

  Fred commented, “Hell, no. But we could do it, too, if we had NVGs and such pussy targets.”

  Sean turned to Fred, grinned again, and said, “You think you have the balls man?”

  Fred shined a flashlight on the bodies and did the headcount. “Sixteen. And they’re dead as dead can be. Good shots, Sean.”

  Sean replied, “Sixteen fewer to lay IEDs—not a bad night’s work. Look your fill boys, and let’s get back to base. I want a shower and beer, not necessarily in that order. We can come back tomorrow for site exploitation and photos.”

  - 6 -

  Simon Smith was rushing to make his 6:30 PM meeting with the SU lawyers at a Panera in Alexandria. He would have preferred meeting in his office. He parked his car, and saw the three lawyers sitting at the back of the restaurant. Before joining them
he ordered a coffee and a scone. Then he walked back toward them, taking his time and looking over the three. All were suited up, two men in their 40s with graying hair and a woman, maybe 50, thin and carefully maintained. All three were munching away on sandwiches or salads and had large coffees in front of them.

  One of the men, Simon recalled from earlier meetings that his name was Hank, stood and shook Simon’s hand and gestured to a place at the table. “Please, please, sit down and join us. We hope you don’t mind meeting us here, but we were all famished and wanted to get a bite to eat before we head back to the office this evening.” Hank gestured to the other two attorneys, “You remember Dave and Joan?”

  Simon nodded yes. Dave, holding a sandwich in one hand, waved with the other, and Joan put down her fork and extended her hand to Simon.

  Simon shook Joan’s hand then looked back at Hank, raised his eyebrows and said, “Keeping kind of late hours, aren’t you?”

  Hank responded, “Yes, but, as you can imagine, we need to keep our seniors informed of what’s going on in this trial. We have significant interest among our higher-ups.”

  Simon said, “I see. Well, what can I do for you this evening? You were in the courtroom, so you saw the beginning of the trial.”

  Joan leaned forward across the table and said, “Yes, Mr. Smith, we were there. And we will continue to be there. We want to ensure that SU sensitive information is protected. We also want to ensure that you do the best job possible to defend your client.”

  Hank said, “We know you have trial experience, but you haven’t tried any SU-related cases. We’d like to offer you some advice that might help you navigate the landscape.”

  Smith said, “What do you mean? Are you offering me information relevant to the case? When I met with you during the past few months, you were reticent about providing any written information and making your personnel available for interviews. Are you saying you’ll remove the wall preventing my access to information?”

  Dave finished the last bite of his sandwich, leaned back, and said, “Let’s just say, Mr. Smith, that we will provide you enough information to help you make your case that Mr. Bennett was doing his patriotic duty.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, Mr. Smith, the SU operates in dark places. Our people need to be able to do their jobs.”

  Smith raised an eyebrow and said, “And when will I receive this information?”

  “We’ll provide it to you as needed.”

  “What about the prosecution? What about discovery?”

  Dave said, “Hmm, we’ll see. Let’s proceed one step at a time. Tomorrow, when you do your cross exam of Mortimer, you just ask him about his hearing and memory lapses. Ask how well he hears and whether his hearing might suffer because of his time near loud weapons. And ask him if he’s ever been diagnosed with PTSD.”

  “Where is this information coming from? I don’t have it.”

  “You do now,” said Joan. And all you need is enough to throw some doubt on Mortimer’s testimony.”

  Smith responded, “What about all the other team members who can verify what Mortimer said?”

  Dave said, “Can they? I wonder. Well, time we headed back to the office. I’d like to get home before midnight. Nice to see you again, Mr. Smith.”

  Hank and Joan got up, gathered their belongings, and shook Smith’s hand. Hank said, “Good luck tomorrow, and remember, we’ve got your back.”

  Smith tried not to grimace at Hank’s trite comment, waved goodbye to the attorneys, and sat back down at the table. He surveyed his uneaten scone and his cooling coffee. He’d paid good money for them, but neither appealed to him at the moment. His cell phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket, hit the talk button, and said “Yes, Smith here.”

  “Hi, Dad, it’s Megan. Guess what? I got an 80 on my physics test, but that’s still an A. A bunch of kids hacked into the teacher’s computer files and got the answers in advance of the test. She found out about the hacking and who did it. They all got ‘Fs,’ and she graded the rest of us, the ones who didn’t cheat, on a curve. So, I got an ‘A.’ Great, hunh?”

  Smith responded, “Yes, that’s great, Megan. I know you studied hard for the test. Tell your Mom I’ll be home for dinner by 8:00. I’ve got to work now. See you later.”

  - 7 -

  Scott Gardner, seated in a small meeting room with Maddie, said, “Good start today, Maddie. You’re really setting the scene for the jury, and you’ve already given them a lot to think about.”

  Maddie replied, “Thanks, Scott, it certainly helped to have you at the table with me. I really will need your help, particularly on law of war issues. The DA suggested that I consult with the Judge Advocate General’s experts in Charlottesville, but I’m worried about how much time I’ve got to do that.”

  Gardner smiled at Maddie and said, “I’ve got some contacts there who should help us in a pinch. Let me give them a call.”

  Maddie returned his smile and said, “Thanks, that would be a relief for me.”

  Gardner looked down at some of the notes he had taken during the trial and said, “The Defense on cross-examination tomorrow almost certainly will try to underscore to the jury that the operation was authorized and that the unit was operating on the belief that it was going after bad guys. Smith probably will try to prove that the victims were, in fact, Taliban supporters or that they were just a tragic mistake.”

  Maddie said, “But how does he counter the way the victims were killed—shot in their beds? Those kids didn’t stand a chance. Even if they had been Taliban, it was an execution, not a military operation.”

  Gardner said, “We’ll have to call our experts who’ve looked at the photos and reports and get them to give their opinions about the way the killings happened. Getting the doctors to say the killings were carried out ‘execution style’ shouldn’t be hard. What we can’t do is present real forensic evidence, since we don’t have bodies, or much else for that matter. Prosecuting with photos and reports from the Afghan Government and press is pretty lame.”

  Maddie’s mouth turned up on one side and she rolled her eyes, “Get the impression no one really wants us to find anything wrong with our defendant’s actions?”

  Gardner said, “Don’t be too surprised. If this were a good case, main Justice would have kept it.”

  Maddie grimaced and asked Gardner, “So how do you suggest we proceed tomorrow? Do we call the experts first or more of the team members? Oh, and by the way, the SU is only going to let us call two more team members, Fred and John.”

  “Will Fred and John’s testimonies differ much from Mortimer’s?”

  “Based upon our interviews, I don’t think so.”

  “Then let’s proceed tomorrow with our experts first and then, depending on Smith’s cross-examination of Mortimer, we can call Fred and John after. Our experts may give us some points we can hammer to the jury via Fred and John’s stories.”

  “Maddie began putting away her notes and said, “OK, sounds good. I’ve got to do some prep and then head off to CrossFit.”

  Gardner, also packing up his materials, suggested to Maddie, “Oh, and you may want to consider bringing in your NATO and Afghan Government representatives soon to get their takes on the raid in front of the jury. The reps will give the official lines, but you may want those before you call the defendant’s superiors.”

  Maddie nodded on her way out of the conference room, “I’ll have them ready to go. See you tomorrow.”

  - 8 -

  So, the court had learned during the last few days that the golden boy might not be so worthy.

  The trial was getting to her. Especially Dark Heart. That’s how Kate thought of him sometimes. Not Golden Boy, but Dark Heart. Occasionally she’d even called him Dark Heart to his face. He liked it. Kate noticed that it made the golden boy preen. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he thought it was a badge of honor, a perverted purple heart.

  He didn’t understand that she called him Dar
k Heart because that’s what he had.

  Sean was special. He was oh so effective in the bedroom and in special operations. But he used and abused her and didn’t care anymore than he worried about the pain he inflicted on other women or the people he killed. Kate wondered if that was because his Dark Heart kept his conscience unencumbered.

  She’d praised Sean’s prowess repeatedly—at least until the last time. He’d scored with her and with plenty of other women. More important to him, though, he was successful in operations.

  Sean was ambitious. His superiors in the SU recognized his efforts. He was a master terrorist hunter and slayer. But, Sean was disdainful of the SU. Sometimes it got in his way. Because he was Dark Heart and knew better than anyone else what was necessary.

  Kate looked over at the prosecution table. She had noticed yesterday that the drone prosecutor was gone from the table. Sitting in his place with the blond woman prosecutor was a younger man, probably in his mid-forties, dark, and good-looking, Kate thought. The new prosecutor didn’t say anything during the proceedings yesterday, just spoke quietly to the woman prosecutor. Kate sort of liked his manner. He seemed to be smiling and encouraging the woman prosecutor. Maybe the woman prosecutor was worried about having to take over from the drone. Well, the blond had done okay yesterday.

  Still, the prosecutors would have to do a lot better if they thought they could get Sean. He was Dark Heart.

  - 9 -

  Simon glanced over at his client. He certainly was the cool one. Sean didn’t seem at all concerned about the testimony Mortimer had given yesterday or the outcome of his case. Perhaps the SU lawyers had reassured Sean that he was safe.

  Simon was uncomfortable with the information the attorneys had passed him yesterday and the way they had done it, but Simon would do his best for his client. He always did. Nonetheless, the case bothered him. The prosecution didn’t have much to go on. What it did have was scary.

  Simon stood and prepared to cross-examine Mortimer. He walked briskly to the podium and said, “Mr. Mortimer, yesterday you told us what happened that night in May 2009 at the compound in Khandahar, but I would like to ask you about why you decided to conduct the raid against the compound and what happened after. Can you tell us, without revealing classified information, why your unit decided to raid that particular compound?”