“Interesting and it makes sense,” Carvelli said. He held out the document and said, “Make two more copies of this for me, will you, Paul?”
“Sure, Tony. And I have extra copies of each of the pictures I pulled offline. They’re in the envelope on the table,” Baker said.
A few minutes later Baker returned to the living room to find Carvelli on the phone.
“I talked to Marc and he’s waiting. I’ll be there in ten to fifteen minutes,” he heard Tony say after which he ended the call.
“Okay, here you are,” Baker said handing him the copies.
Tony stood up, took the documents and said, “Thanks, Paul, see you next time,” and started toward the front door.
“Hey, dude, you’re forgetting something,” Baker said.
Tony stopped, raised his head, pointed his nose upward and sniffed the air several times while swiveling his head back and forth.
“Hey, it doesn’t smell like cannabis extremis in here. Did you quit or did you figure out how to open a window?”
“Ha, ha very funny. Do you write this stuff yourself? Money?”
“Oh! Yeah, sure,” Carvelli said acting as if he forgot. “Here,” he continued as he pulled a plain, white envelope from the inside of his baby blue, suede jacket. Inside the envelope were ten fresh, crisp, one hundred dollar bills. “Thanks, Paul. You did good. See ya,” and he turned and went out the door.
Twenty minutes later, Tony was seated on one of the client chairs in front of Marc Kadella’s desk. Marc was in his executive chair and Maddy Rivers was next to Tony. There was total silence in the room as each of them read a copy of the report Tony brought with him. Being a lawyer and a more careful reader, or just slow, Marc finished last.
Marc sat back, put his hands laced together behind his head, looked first at Tony, then Maddy and said, “Well, isn’t that interesting?”
“Yes, indeed,” Tony said. “Answers some questions…”
“…and fills in some holes,” Maddy added.
“Your guy is very good,” Marc told Tony. “When do I get to meet him, this phantom hacker of yours?”
“He’s not a people person,” Tony said shaking his head. “He’s like a one-family dog.”
“What are you going to do with this?” Maddy asked Marc.
“Sandbag them. I’ve scheduled an omnibus hearing for the 20th, next Monday morning. My forty-eight days are almost up and I hate to continue these things. Since there aren’t any witnesses except the two cops, their memories won’t fade and they won’t change their minds about testifying. No reason to drag it out.”
“What about the drugs? Did you get your lab report back?” Maddy asked. Marc had been given a sample of the drugs to test to verify they were cocaine and meth.
“Yeah, got the report yesterday. No surprise there. Unlikely Kubik would have made that mistake. The coke was even cut to street level for sale,” Marc answered.
“As much as I love you two and would like to hang out all day, I do have other things to do,” Tony said as he stood to leave. He bent down and kissed Maddy on her cheek and stepped to the door.
“You want some money?” Marc asked Tony.
“I’ll bill you,” he answered.
“What did this report cost?”
“A grand,” Tony replied. “Worth it.”
“Yeah. I’ll need to get more money from the old man. What about you?” Marc asked Maddy.
“See you, later,” Tony said as he left.
“Well, yeah, I have an itemized statement,” she said. Maddy handed him a two-page document and Marc looked at the bottom line.
“Can I give you two grand today and more when I get more? I have to pay the lab too,” Marc said.
“Sure, that will be fine. No problem,” she said.
“Okay. Now the retainer is gone, I still owe you and Tony, and I haven’t been paid a dime,” Marc said while opening the check writing program on his computer.
“You don’t need to give me that much right now,” Maddy said.
“It’s all right. Blake Grant is good for it. I’ll send him a statement today.”
While Maddy’s check was printing off on Marc’s small printer, he said, “I want both Newsom and Kubik subpoenaed for 9:00 Monday morning,”
“I’ll get them. He’s going to be pissed when he sees me after the other night in the bar,” Maddy said, smiling.
“You want me to have someone else do it?”
Maddy thought about it then said, “No, maybe, I don’t know. It might not be a bad idea. I don’t need the hassle over a subpoena.”
“Tell you what,” Marc said, “I’ll call the prosecutor and make sure she’s going to call him. If she is, then we don’t have to worry about it,” Marc said.
“What about his partner?”
Marc thought about it a moment then said, “Let’s plan on serving him late Sunday afternoon or early Sunday evening. What about the prosecutor, Gloria Fenton?”
Maddy retrieved her notebook and opened it to the right page.
“Nothing unusual. Graduated from Mitchell five years ago. She spent two years with the State A.G.’s office doing consumer complaints…”
“I’d put a gun in my mouth if I had to listen to that all day,” Marc interjected.
“Totally,” Maddy laughed. “She’s been with Ramsey County ever since. I had lunch with a colleague of hers that I know who said she was thorough, solid, competent and sensible.”
“Okay. I’ll call her and make sure she’ll have Kubik on the stand.”
Marc turned his Buick SUV onto the tree-lined driveway of the Corwin Mansion on Lake Minnetonka. Seated in the passenger seat with her left hand lightly placed over Marc’s right hand, which rested on the car’s gear shift, was Marc’s only real relationship since his divorce, Margaret Tennant.
Margaret was a Hennepin County District Court judge. Her chambers and courtroom were located on the seventeenth floor of the giant granite, glass and chrome Hennepin County Government Center in downtown Minneapolis.
The two of them had been a couple for several years. They recently went through a separation of several months mostly because Margaret had finally asked the big question most divorced or single men dreaded: Where is this relationship going?
Marc had been in a basically loveless marriage, was now divorced and in no hurry to do that again.
Margaret, a still very attractive woman in her early forties, was looking at the calendar and watching birthdays slip away. For her, the vision of old age and loneliness had no appeal whatsoever. If not Marc, then maybe it was time to go fishing elsewhere.
They had recently started dating again, Marc with anxiety about the unresolved ‘where is this relationship going’ question still hanging over their heads. But Margaret had missed him and decided, for now, life was better with him as is than without him. She had also been reminded during their separation that the dating pool could use a good dose of chlorine to get rid of the bacteria.
Vivian Donahue, a woman who had become a close acquaintance of theirs was throwing a party for a couple hundred of her friends and family. It was being held at the Corwin Mansion on Lake Minnetonka and an invitation wasn’t really an invitation. Vivian Donahue, known to Marc and Margaret as a truly down-to-earth, extremely pleasant woman, expected attendance if she asked you to her home for a social event.
Vivian Corwin Donahue was the current matriarch of a very well known family that was one of the most socially prominent, politically connected and old-money wealthy in Minnesota. The lineage could be traced directly back to the 1840’s when the family patriarch, Edward Corwin, immigrated to the mostly empty prairie that was Minnesota at that time, started farming and began building an agricultural empire that was worth billions today. The family itself was no longer involved in Corwin Agricultural but Vivian, as the current head of the family, could still move political mountains and when she called a governor, senator, congressman or mayor, that person had better sit up and pay attention.<
br />
The Kadella party of two approached the short line at the door waiting to be admitted. There were two beefy looking security guards checking names off a list of invitees. When they reached the door, Marc showed one of the men his invitation and with a pleasant, ‘enjoy your evening’ they were allowed in.
A hostess employed by the caterers led them across the marble-covered foyer, through the house and into the backyard. Both Marc and Margaret had been here several times but the place still amazed them. They walked down toward the pool where they saw Vivian greeting guests. When she saw them she immediately almost ran to greet them.
Vivian was in her late sixties, widowed and unmarried. At her age, she was what people called a very handsome woman, meaning she looked a good twenty years younger and still an attractive woman.
“Wow, you look fabulous, Vivian,” Marc said as she took both of his hands and kissed him, to Marc’s surprise, lightly on the lips. Vivian turned her attention to Margaret and gave her an affectionate hug while they blew air kisses at each other.
Vivian stood back, looked them over as if examining them then said, “Two of my very favorite people. It’s nice to see you together again.”
She looped her right arm in Marc’s left, Margaret took his right arm and the three of them made their way around the pool to where the tables were set up. At least fifty of the guests turned their heads wondering who the couple was that so obviously attracted the Grand Dame herself.
Marc looked ahead to where they were going and saw Tony Carvelli dressed similarly as Marc in slacks and a light shirt. At the same table were Maddy Rivers with her date and Gabriella Shriqui with her date. Margaret also saw them and waved.
When they were still thirty feet from their friends’ table, two men and a model beautiful, very bored looking young woman approached them.
“Aunt Vivian,” one of the men said.
“Yes, David?” Vivian asked.
“I want you to meet someone,” he continued as Marc and Margaret separated from their host.
“We’ll go to the table,” Marc told Vivian.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” she replied.
“Vivian, this is Corbin Reed, the investment guy I told you about with CAR Securities.”
“Hello, David has been bragging about you,” Vivian said shaking Reed’s hand.
“Mrs. Donahue,” Reed said hoping she would correct him and tell him to call her Vivian which she deliberately did not do, “I am, well, awestruck, by your home. It is truly fabulous.”
This went on for almost two more minutes, Reed gushing over Vivian to the point of nausea. All the while Vivian kept a practiced smile on her face. Finally, Vivian broke it off by politely excusing herself to attend to other guests.
Vivian made her way through the small crowd to Tony’s table and sat down between Tony and Maddy and across from Marc and Margaret.
“What is this?” she asked Tony as she picked up his highball. Before he could answer her she drained the almost full glass.
“Vodka tonic,” Tony said.
“I needed that,” she said as she set the glass on the table. “Be a dear and get me another, please, Anthony.”
“Sure,” Tony said as he started to rise then stopped. “Never mind, here’s an angel now,” he said to the waitress who stopped at their table.
When she left, Vivian asked Tony, “Do you know a man named Corbin Reed?”
“Never heard of him,” Tony replied.
Vivian looked over the others and asked the same question. Blank looks and shaking heads were the only response she received. Maddy’s date, of course, was Rob Judd. Maddy did not know that CAR Securities, where he worked, stood for Corbin Reed. Rob, his antenna going off, decided to keep quiet about knowing his boss. He could see nothing to be gained by opening his mouth in acknowledgment then being grilled for five minutes. Instead, he looked puzzled and shook his head.
“I may have a job for you, Anthony,” she said to her part-time lover. “I just shook his hand and I felt as if I should wash afterwards.”
TEN
Rarely, except on TV and in the movies, during the course of a hearing, motion or trial does a lawyer have an opportunity to drive a stake through his opponent’s case. If both sides do their job, there should not be any big surprises.
Marc stepped off the elevator on the fourteenth floor of the art deco Ramsey County Courthouse in downtown St. Paul. He was feeling smug, a little too smug he realized. He had an ace to play in his back pocket and he didn’t believe the prosecution was aware of it. He also realized that just because it appeared to be an ace, did not mean it would win his client’s case. Keep your head in the game, he thought to himself as he walked toward the courtroom.
“Morning,” Marc said to his client, Kenny and Blake Grant. Marc realized at that moment he had not told them what he was up to and decided not to.
“I’m pretty nervous and I’m not involved at all,” Blake Grant confessed. “I don’t know how you people do this all the time.”
Marc shrugged, smiled and said, “I’m not the one going to jail,” looked at Kenny and quickly said, “A little joke. Relax. No one’s going to jail today.
“Like I said, this is basically a hearing to decide if the arrest and discovery of the evidence was okay. To satisfy the judge that the cops did not violate the Constitution. I talked to the prosecutor on Friday, Gloria Fenton. She’s only going to call Dale Kubik, which is what I was hoping for. He’ll get on the stand and testify about why he stopped you and then lie about the grounds he had to search the car.”
“What will he say?” Kenny asked.
“He’ll claim you are a known drug dealer and he was looking for any drugs that might be in the car,” Marc said.
“Doesn’t he have to have probable cause more than that?” Blake asked.
“Not really. Probable cause isn’t that big a deal to come up with. A very liberal judge might rule he didn’t have probable cause but they can get around that too.”
“How?”
“They can say they were going to arrest him and impound the car. The car would have been subjected to an inventory search and the drugs would have inevitably been discovered then. All they really needed was grounds for the initial stop. After that, they gotcha. Let’s go in.”
The three of them entered the courtroom to find the prosecutor, Gloria Fenton and Dale Kubik already seated at a table.
Marc led Kenny through the gate while Blake took a seat in the otherwise empty courtroom. Marc introduced himself to Fenton and Kubik then sat down at the defense table next to Kenny Grant. A minute later he felt his phone vibrate. A text came in from Maddy informing him she and their surprise witness would be there on time.
Judge Helen O’Donnell came out a few minutes after nine. She read the case name and number into the record, noted the defendant’s presence and let Fenton and Marc announce their appearances.
“Okay,” O’Donnell began. “I understand we’re here on an evidentiary matter. You may proceed, Ms. Fenton.”
Fenton stood and quickly explained the prosecution’s case. Since there was no jury present and O’Donnell knew what she had to say, Fenton kept it brief and to the point.
“Do you wish to add or comment to that, Mr. Kadella?” O’Donnell asked.
Marc stood and said, “Not at this time, your Honor. That’s pretty much why we’re here.”
“How many witnesses do you plan on calling, Ms. Fenton?”
“Two, your Honor. The arresting detective and the lab tech who tested the drugs,” she replied.
“What about that, Mr. Kadella? Are you disputing the contents of the two packages allegedly found in the defendant’s car? Have you had opportunity to conduct your own, independent lab test?”
“Yes, I have, your Honor, and the defense is willing to stipulate that the items are street-level cocaine and methamphetamines,” Marc said.
“Good,” O’Donnell said turning back to Fenton. “Now the tech doesn’t have t
o testify. That will save a little time.”
Blake Grant, seated in the front row behind Marc, leaned over the rail. Marc saw him and swiveled his chair around.
“Who are you, sir?” O’Donnell asked obviously referring to Blake.
Grant stood and politely said, “My name is Blake Grant…”
“The defendant’s father?”
“Yes, your Honor.”
“You’re welcome to be here, Mr. Grant, but no interruptions. Is that understood?” O’Donnell firmly said.
An executive vice president of a company the size of 3M is not used to being slapped down. Grant, a little embarrassed, took it well, apologized and sat down.
“Mr. Kadella, take a minute to confer,” O’Donnell told Marc meaning tell your client and his dad to keep their mouths shut.
Marc wheeled back to the rail, as did Kenny and Blake asked in a very low whisper, “Why did you let the drugs in?”
“Because we had no way to keep them out. We tested them and they are what the prosecution says. Sometimes giving a little helps with the judge.
“Now,” Marc continued looking at Blake, “I’ll be polite this time but don’t ever question me in court again or get a new lawyer.”
“I’m sorry,” Blake pleaded. “I’m really, very sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear.”
Marc and Kenny returned to the table, Kenny silently delighted having witnessed his strong, sometimes domineering father, get his ass handed to him, twice.
Fenton called Dale Kubik to the stand who was sworn in and took the witness chair.
Having thoroughly prepared his testimony by practicing it for over an hour on Friday afternoon, Fenton talked Kubik through the stop, search and arrest in barely half an hour. Most of his testimony was contained in the police report that Marc had almost memorized so there were no surprises. Kubik, having testified many times, made the entire thing sound very routine, almost mundane.
When Fenton was finished, she turned the witness over to Marc.
“How did you know Mr. Grant was a known drug dealer?” This question appears to break the cardinal rule of never asking a question you don’t know the answer to. Marc didn’t really care what his answer was. He would handle whatever Kubik said.
[Marc Kadella 06.0] Delayed Justice Page 7