An Unequal Defense (David Adams)

by Chad Zunker

  David turned. “Yes?”

  Bobby Lee reached down beside the chair, grabbed a standard white envelope off the dusty floor. “A gentleman dropped this off for you a few minutes ago. He asked me to give it to you and only you.”

  David took the envelope. “You get a name?”

  “I asked. He wouldn’t say.”

  “All right, thanks.”

  David walked into his office and circled around to his desk. His mind was still racing a mile a minute about the phone call Murphy had placed to Jordan just seconds before his death. Did Mason know about this call? If he did and had intentionally chosen not to disclose it, David was going to give him hell. David dropped into his office chair, stared at the envelope Bobby Lee had just given him. It was sealed with no writing on the outside. Tearing it open, he found nothing but a small flash drive inside. David stuck the device into his laptop, hoping he wasn’t about to load a virus onto his computer, and watched as a digital folder appeared on the screen. It contained a single video icon with no title.

  Clicking “Play,” he watched the screen as the video appeared. David perked up suddenly. The video looked like it was taken from a security camera inside of one of the county jail cells. Was this from last night? He leaned in even closer to his laptop. A date-and-time stamp in the upper right-hand corner confirmed it was captured at exactly 3:32 a.m. The jail cell had two beds on opposite sides of the small room with a wall sink separating them. Both beds were occupied by inmates. It sure as hell looked like his client in the bed on the left. In the other bed was a muscle-bound guy covered in tattoos with a brown Mohawk.

  Seconds after the video began, the big guy with the Mohawk slipped out of his bed while holding something small in his right hand. He quickly moved toward the other bed, jumped on top of Rebel, and began thrusting at him with his right hand. David felt his heart racing. Rebel screamed out in pain, but he immediately responded to the attack with a vicious right-hand chop that struck the big guy in the neck. Just as quick, Rebel’s left palm thrust upward and popped the guy square in his nose, causing the guy to holler and fall back onto the hard floor. The guy grasped at his neck, as if he couldn’t breathe, while blood from his nose began to pour all over his face. In a split second, Rebel was out of the bed and on top of the guy, his hands clutched around the man’s neck. A jail deputy then burst into the cell, where he tried to pull Rebel off. Two more deputies quickly arrived. Then the video went black.

  David again pressed “Play,” watched the video a second time through. He was shocked at how easily his client had defended himself from such a vicious sneak attack by a powerful-looking man. Two swift moves by Rebel—one with the right hand, one with the left—and he’d rendered a hulking man nearly powerless. And his client had done it while almost bleeding to death. Where had he learned to do that?

  David jumped out of his chair and rushed back into the hallway.

  “Tell me again who gave you the envelope, Bobby.”

  Bobby Lee’s forehead bunched. “Everything okay, Mr. Adams?”

  “Yes, I just need to know more about the man who dropped this off with you. What exactly did he look like?”

  “Well, let’s see now. He had a crew cut, like a military guy.”

  “About how old would you say?”

  Bobby Lee shrugged. “I dunno for sure. Maybe fifty.”

  “You remember what he was wearing?”

  “He had on a black jacket, like a jogger’s jacket. And he wore brown glasses.”

  David’s brow furrowed. “Square-shaped glasses?”

  “Yes, sir. You know him?”

  “Maybe.”

  David flashed on the face of Keith Carter. Could the man have possibly obtained the security video? Carter had mentioned having insider friends, but this felt like a big leap. Mason had flat-out denied the security video even existed. So how would Carter have gotten his hands on it? More so, how would Carter have known David wanted the video?

  “Anything else you can remember, Bobby? This is really important.”

  “No, sir, that’s about it. He was here only for a few seconds. He walked up to me, handed me the envelope, said what he said, real polite and all, and then he turned around and left. And that was that.”

  Returning to his office, David sat down at his desk and searched his top drawer for the business card Carter had given him the other day for the Texas Veterans Legal Assistance Project. He had no idea where he put it, so he just searched Google for the main phone number. A woman answered on the second ring.

  “VLAP, this is Cindy. How can I help you?”

  “Hi, Cindy, I need to talk with Keith Carter. Is he in the office? Or can I get his cell phone from you?”

  “Who?”

  “Keith Carter,” David repeated.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t know anyone by that name who works in this office.”

  “What do you mean? He gave me a business card for the Texas Veterans Legal Assistance Project.”

  “Really? Well, I’m new here. But I don’t see his name on my directory sheet.”

  “Is this the only office?”

  “Yes, for the entire state. Do you want me to ask around and call you back?”

  “Yes, please.”

  David gave her his number, hung up, and rubbed his chin. When it dawned on him where he may have stuck the business card, he took his jacket off a coatrack and began searching the pockets. Carter’s card was in the front left pocket. He stared at the phone number. It was different from the one he’d just called.

  Grabbing his phone, he called the number on the card but reached Carter’s voice mail greeting: “This is Keith Carter with the Texas Veterans Legal Assistance Project. Please leave a message, and I’ll get right back to you.” When the voice mail message beeped, David said, “Carter, this is David Adams. Call me back ASAP. It’s important.”

  Hanging up, he stared a hole into the business card and tried to make sense of the phone call with VLAP’s main office. Was the woman simply mistaken? Did she miss Carter’s name on the directory? Or was something else going on? Sitting down, David did a quick search on his laptop for Keith Carter and VLAP. Nothing popped up with the two together. That was weird. David did a second search using the words Keith Carter, University of Houston. There were hundreds of mentions of a Carter, a Keith, or both tied to the University of Houston—but not a single one of them was specifically for an English professor named Keith Carter. He’d told David he’d taught at the university for twenty years. David did one last search: Keith Carter, Richmond Flying Squirrels. He scrolled down the entire first page of results. Strike three—there was nothing online that showed someone named Keith Carter had ever played minor-league baseball in Richmond, Virginia.

  David sat all the way back in his chair, his mind spinning in a hundred different directions. It seemed as if Keith Carter was a complete fabrication.

  Why? Who was this guy, really? And why was he helping David?

  FORTY-FOUR

  David greeted Theodore Billings in the entry room of the office. The young TV reporter with the plastered-on black hair wore clothes similar to what he’d worn the other day when they’d met—oversize khaki pants and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. David ushered him into his own office, shut the door behind them. Billings set a bag of video gear on the floor.

  “Thanks for coming so quickly,” David said.

  “What’s the deal with the old man sitting out in the hallway?”

  “He’s my private security detail.”

  Billings raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

  “I’ll explain later. Let’s get to this first.”

  “All righty.”

  “You need my help getting set up?”

  “Nah, just give me a minute.”

  The reporter unzipped the bag, pulled out a video camera, a stand, some lighting equipment, and then set everything up around David’s desk.

  “When will this air?” David asked.
<
br />   “I’ll head straight back to the station from here, quickly edit the footage, and turn the story into my boss. It’s high interest, so I know he’ll want to put it in the local news loop right away. If everything checks out.”

  “It will. I need this out there ASAP.”

  “I hear you.” Billings pulled out a small notepad. “Let’s review what you told me over the phone. You said your client was viciously attacked last night by another inmate while at the county jail?”

  “Correct. Stabbed four times and rushed to the emergency room.”

  “Is he stable?”

  “Yes, but he’s fortunate to be alive.”

  “And you believe the attack was planned?”

  “Yes. The guy was purposely put into the cell with my client. Which is why I need my client better protected.”

  “Better protected while at the hospital?”

  “Yes. I have reason to believe he’s still in grave danger. But I’m getting no movement at all from the other side.”

  “So you want to use me to put pressure on them?”

  “You have a problem with that?”

  “Nope. But, tell me, who wants your client dead? That’s a big story.”

  “That’s for another day, Teddy.”

  “Fair enough. You should know I talked with a jail spokesman on the way over here. He directly contradicted your version of what happened. He claims your client instigated the whole encounter with the other inmate, who was only defending himself. He puts the blame for your client’s current condition solely on him.”

  “He’s lying.”

  “That’s a bold statement. Do you have proof?”

  David turned his laptop to face the reporter and played the security video that showed Rebel being attacked by the other man.

  Billings’s eyes widened as the scene unfolded. “Damn, you’re right.” He looked up at David. “Why would they lie to me about what happened when you have a video of the whole incident?”

  “They don’t know I have the video.”

  “Seriously?”

  “They told me their cameras were down.”

  “So where did you get it?”

  “Not important.”

  “Okay, but can I use it in this news segment?”

  “I have a copy ready for you.”

  Billings grinned ear to ear. “Let’s get started.”

  FORTY-FIVE

  David spent the entire afternoon huddled inside his office, door locked, blinds drawn. He even asked Bobby Lee to sit right outside his office door and let no one bother him. The old man took the assignment seriously and even barked at Thomas a few times. Kate had texted him a long list of all client matters that Lee Barksdale had worked on the past five years. David could feel the momentum building as they put more pieces of the puzzle together. There were stacks of paper all over his desk where he’d printed out various online articles and media reports he’d found about companies tied to legal matters on Barksdale’s list. It was an exhausting process searching companies one at a time and looking for any threads that might connect to Murphy’s death. So far, he’d found nothing that stood out. His mind was growing fuzzy, and his vision was blurred after five straight hours of staring at his computer screen.

  David was starting to lose hope when he typed in the name of a commercial real estate group called Lion Partners. A photo appeared on his screen of the founding partner. David immediately sat up straighter in his chair, pulled his laptop closer to him. The guy had a goatee, wore glasses, and was prematurely balding on top. Nelly? The same man Barksdale had met with at the hotel bar the other day. David squinted at the screen. The man’s real name was Owen Nelson.

  David did a quick double take. Nelson? Could there be a direct connection? He quickly typed in both Owen Nelson and Mayor Gregory Nelson. Another photo appeared on the screen of the two men standing together at a recent opening of a new downtown building. David’s mouth dropped open. The caption claimed Owen Nelson was the mayor’s oldest son. David immediately thought of Mayor Nelson in the parking garage, getting pissed at DA Jordan before racing off. All of it had to be tied together.

  David felt a renewed surge of energy. He ran a search grouping Owen Nelson with Lee Barksdale and discovered an LSU alumni site with pictures of the two men together from several years back—along with a group of other college-age guys who were all part of the same fraternity. As suspected, Barksdale and Nelson were more than just business acquaintances—they were old friends. David searched more on Nelson’s company, Lion Partners, and found it to be very active in new downtown development opportunities. But its biggest project by far was a $1 billion proposal for a new mixed-use complex called Parker Place, with three new towers for condos, businesses, retail outlets, and restaurants. It was being hailed as Austin’s largest-ever private development. The project had been repeatedly delayed the past few years—mostly because of financial setbacks. But Parker Place had gained serious traction of late because Lion Partners had finally secured a new global partner—with direct help from the mayor.

  David practically stuck his nose to his laptop screen. Mayor Nelson’s fingerprints were all over the project. He’d been championing it since the beginning and had been intricately involved in courting out-of-town financial partners with deep pockets. Most of the news articles said the project would’ve never gotten this far down the road without the mayor’s influence and involvement.

  David dropped back into his chair. Could Eduardo Martinez have known something that might have jeopardized this project in some way? Something that Murphy also discovered that got him killed, too? If so, what? Martinez was just a city maintenance worker, which was about as low on the ladder of political influence as one could get. It didn’t make sense that he could have known something so potent that it put his life at risk. Having said that, the pressure the mayor was putting on the DA to make the case go away was real. To the point where Mason was offering David a deal that seemed ludicrous.

  David stared at the ceiling. Could the mayor really be involved with murder? He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around that possibility.

  Still—$1 billion was a lot of money.

  FORTY-SIX

  David met Dana next to the Texas African American History Memorial on the pristine grounds of the Capitol an hour later. She had texted David a few minutes earlier, said it was urgent, asked to meet ASAP. He could tell she was anxious by the way she had her arms crossed and was constantly shifting her weight back and forth. She used to have the same fidgets and posture right before a big mock trial at Stanford.

  “Hey, what do you got?” he said, stepping in close to her.

  “I was going back through Murphy’s online files, like I told you I would, seeing if anything new stood out. I again didn’t find anything upon first glance, just like when I did this same exercise a week ago. All of his online files are attached to cases I already know all about. But then I decided to do a search by date and time, just to see if Murphy had opened up a new file with any of his cases on the day he was killed. Well, he did. He created a new file under his McManus case just a few hours before he died.”

  “McManus?”

  “Standard case,” Dana explained. “Ethan McManus. Assault with a deadly weapon. His lawyer says it was self-defense. Murphy had been working on it for a few weeks. The new file he’d created was labeled Neighbor Testimony. However, there was no testimony inside. Actually, what I found wasn’t even connected to the McManus case at all.”

  David inched even closer. “What was in the file?”

  A group of tourists made their way to the memorial, talking loudly and snapping photos. Dana pulled David around to the back to talk in private.

  “He’d uploaded a set of photos,” Dana explained. “The pics are all of a city work crew. About five guys doing construction, wearing the standard yellow vests with City of Austin printed on them. It looks like they were building a big gazebo behind someone’s house.”

  She
held up her phone to show David the images. She paused on a photo of the address plate set in the brick on the outside of the home.

  “Whose house?” David asked.

  “Gregory and Margaret Nelson.”

  David raised an eyebrow. “This is the mayor’s house?”

  Dana nodded. “I think Murphy intentionally mislabeled the file to hide these pics because he suspected corruption.” She held up her phone again. “Look closer—in the reflection of the window. Recognize him?”

  David squinted. At first, he hadn’t noticed, but he could now clearly see a reflection of the photographer in the window next to the house’s address plate.

  “Eduardo Martinez.”

  “Yep. It at least appears in these photos that the mayor was personally using Martinez’s work crew to build a backyard gazebo.”

  “Is that legal?” David asked.

  “No, not if it’s on the taxpayers’ dime.”

  “You think Martinez somehow knew that and took the pics to extort the situation?”

  “It fits. But where did Murphy get these pics?”

  “From Mia Martinez,” David said, putting it together. “She had to have given these photos to Murphy the day he was killed.”

  “I don’t know. Are we really standing here talking about implicating the mayor in a potential murder conspiracy over some stupid backyard gazebo that probably only costs a few thousand dollars? That feels like a stretch to me.”

  “It’s not a stretch if it’s connected to one billion dollars.”

  Dana’s eyes widened. “What?”

  David explained how he’d discovered the mayor’s son was heading up a lucrative downtown development project with his father’s influence. “If the mayor goes down, even on something minor like illegally using city workers’ time, it could jeopardize this whole project. A minor slipup could turn into a major problem. And a one-billion-dollar project goes up in smoke.”

  “You’re right,” Dana agreed. “It’s not a stretch to think someone might take extreme measures to protect that from happening.”