I went back to my steak and in my peripheral vision I saw Maggie wave down the busboy.
“I’m going to take this to go and try to grab a cab out front. Can you bring it out to me?”
“Of course. Right away.”
He hustled off with the plate.
“Maggie,” I said.
“I just need some time to think about all of this.”
She slid out of the booth.
“I can drive you.”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
She stood next to the table, opening her purse.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it.”
“You sure?”
“If there’s no cab out there, look down the street at the Palm. There might be one there.”
“Okay, thanks.”
She left then to wait for her food outside. I pushed my plate a few inches back and contemplated the half-full glass of wine she left behind. Five minutes later I was still considering it when Maggie suddenly appeared, the to-go bag in her hand.
“They had to call a cab,” she said. “It should be here any minute.”
She picked up her glass and sipped from it.
“Let’s talk after your trial,” she said.
“Okay.”
She put the glass down, leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Then she left. I sat there for a while thinking about things. I thought maybe that last kiss had saved my life.
Thirty-two
This time in his chambers Judge Perry sat down. It was 9:05 Wednesday morning and I was there along with Andrea Freeman and the court reporter. Before resuming trial the judge had agreed with Freeman’s request for one more conference out of the public eye. Perry waited for us to settle in our seats, then checked that his reporter’s fingers were poised over the keys of her steno machine.
“Okay, we’re on the record here in California versus Trammel,” he said. “Ms. Freeman, you called for an in camera conference. I hope you’re not going to tell me you need more time to pursue the issue involving the federal target letter.”
Freeman moved to the front edge of her seat.
“Not at all, Your Honor. There is nothing worth pursuing. The issue has been thoroughly vetted but full knowledge of what is going on with the federal agencies involved does not comfort me. I believe it is clear from what I know now that Mr. Haller is going to attempt to push this trial off the rails with issues that are definitely irrelevant to the matter before the jury.”
I cleared my throat but the judge stepped in first.
“We handled the issue of third-party guilt in pretrial, Ms. Freeman. I am allowing the defense the leeway to pursue it to a point. But you have to give me something here. Just because you don’t want Mr. Haller to pursue this target letter doesn’t make it irrelevant.”
“I understand that, Judge. But what—”
“Excuse me,” I said. “Do I get a turn here? I’d like the chance to respond to the insinuation that I’m pushing—”
“Let Ms. Freeman finish and then you’ll get a good long tug, Mr. Haller. I promise you that. Ms. Freeman?”
“Thank you, Your Honor. What I’m trying to say is that a federal target letter essentially means almost nothing. It is a notice of a pending investigation. It is not a charge. It’s not even an allegation. It doesn’t mean that they have found something or will find something. It is simply a tool used by the feds to say, ‘Hey, we heard something and we’re going to look into it.’ But in Mr. Haller’s hands in front of the jury, he’s going to spin this into the harbinger of doom and attach it to someone not even on trial here. Lisa Trammel is the one on trial and this whole thing about federal target letters is not even remotely relevant to the material issues. I would ask that you disallow Mr. Haller from making any further inquiry of Detective Kurlen in this regard.”
The judge was leaning back with his hands in front of his chest, the fingers of each hand pressed against each other. He swiveled to face me. Finally, my cue.
“Judge, if I were in Your Honor’s position, I think that I would ask counsel, since she says she thoroughly vetted this letter and its origin, if there is a sitting federal grand jury looking into foreclosure fraud in Southern California. And then I would ask how she has concluded that a federal target letter amounts to ‘almost nothing.’ Because I don’t think the court is getting a very accurate assessment of what the letter means or what its impact is on this case.”
The judge swiveled back to Freeman and broke one of his fingers free to point in her direction.
“What about that, Ms. Freeman? Is there a grand jury?”
“Judge, you are putting me in an awkward position here. Grand juries work in secret and—”
“We’re all friends here, Ms. Freeman,” the judge said sternly. “Is there a grand jury?”
She hesitated and then nodded.
“There is a grand jury, Your Honor, but it has not heard any testimony in regard to Louis Opparizio. As I said, the target letter is nothing more than a notice of a pending investigation. It’s hearsay, Judge, and it doesn’t fit into any exception that would speak to its admissibility in this trial. Though the letter was signed by the U.S. attorney for this district, it was actually authored by a Secret Service agent handling the inquiry. I have the agent waiting downstairs in my office. If the court wishes, I can have him in chambers in ten minutes to tell you exactly what I just did. That this is a lot of smoke and mirrors on Mr. Haller’s part. At the time of Mr. Bondurant’s death there was no active investigation yet and no connection between the two. There was just the letter.”
That was a mistake. By revealing that Vasquez, the Secret Service agent who penned the target letter, was in the building, Freeman had put the judge into a difficult position. That the agent was nearby and easily accessible would make it harder for the judge to dismiss the issue out of hand. I stepped in before the judge could respond.
“Judge Perry? I would suggest that, since counsel says she has the federal agent who wrote the letter right here in the courthouse, she simply put him on the stand to counter anything that I might draw from Detective Kurlen on cross-examination. If Ms. Freeman is so sure the agent will say the target letter he wrote amounts to nothing, then let him tell the jury that. Let him blow me out of the water. I remind the court that we’ve already dipped our toes into these waters. I asked Kurlen about the letter yesterday. To simply go back out there and not mention it again or have you tell the jurors to un-ring the bell and dismiss it from memory… that could be more damaging to our collective cause than a full airing of this issue.”
Perry answered without hesitation.
“I tend to think that you are correct about this, Mr. Haller. I don’t like the idea of leaving the jury all night with this mysterious target letter to ponder and then pulling the rug out from under them this morning.”
“Your Honor,” Freeman said quickly. “May I be heard once more?”
“No, I don’t think that is necessary. We need to stop wasting time in here and get the trial started.”
“But, Your Honor, there is one other exigent issue the court has not even considered.”
The judge looked frustrated.
“And what is that, Ms. Freeman? My patience is drawing thin.”
“Allowing testimony about a target letter directed at the defense’s key witness will likely complicate that witness’s previous decision not to invoke his Fifth Amendment rights during testimony in this case. Louis Opparizio and his legal counsel may well reconsider that decision once this target letter is introduced and discussed publicly. Therefore, Mr. Haller may be building a defense case that ultimately results in his key witness and straw man, if you will, refusing to testify. I want it on record now that if Mr. Haller plays this game he must abide by the consequences. When Opparizio decides next week that it’s in his best interest not to testify and asks for a new hearing on the subpoena, I don’t want defense counsel crying to the court for a do-over. No do-overs, Judge.”
&nbs
p; The judge nodded, agreeing with her.
“I guess that would be tantamount to the man who killed his parents asking the court to show mercy on him because he’s an orphan. I’m in agreement, Mr. Haller. You are on notice that if you play it this way you must be prepared to shoulder the consequences.”
“I understand, Judge,” I said. “And I will make sure my client does as well. I only have one point of argument and that is counsel’s labeling of Louis Opparizio as a straw man. He’s no straw man and we’ll prove it.”
“Well,” the judge said, “at least you’ll get a chance to. Now time is wasting. Let’s get back into the courtroom.”
I followed Freeman out, leaving the judge behind while he put on his robe. I expected her to hit me with a verbal assault but I got the opposite.
“Well played, Counselor,” she said.
“Thanks, I think.”
“Who do you think sent you the letter?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Have the feds contacted you? My guess is they’re going to want to find out who’s leaking sensitive and confidential documents to the public.”
“Nobody’s said jack yet. Maybe it was the feds who leaked it. If I get Opparizio on the stand he’s stuck with his testimony. Maybe I’m just an instrument of the federal government here. Ever think of that?”
The suggestion seemed to put a pause in her step. As I passed her I smiled.
As we entered the courtroom I saw Herb Dahl in the front row of the gallery behind the defense table. I suppressed the urge to pull him over the rail and pound his face into the stone floor. Freeman and I took our positions at our respective tables and in a whisper I filled my client in on what had happened in chambers. The judge entered and brought the jury in.
The last piece of the picture was filled in when Detective Kurlen returned to the witness stand. I grabbed my files and legal pad and went back to the lectern. It seemed like a week since my cross-examination had been interrupted but it had been less than a day. I acted as though it had been less than a minute.
“Now, Detective Kurlen, when we left off yesterday I had just asked you if you knew what a federal target letter is. Can you answer that question now?”
“My understanding is that when a federal agency is interested in gathering information from an individual or company, they sometimes send out a letter that tells that individual or company that they want to talk. It’s sort of a letter that says, ‘Come on in and let’s talk about this so there’s no misunderstanding.’ ”
“And that’s it?”
“I’m not a federal agent.”
“Well, do you think it’s a serious matter to receive a letter from the federal government telling you that you are the target of an investigation?”
“It could be, I guess. I would assume that it depends on the crime they’re looking into.”
I asked the judge for permission to approach the witness with a document. Freeman objected for the record, citing relevance. The judge overruled without comment and told me I could give the document to the witness.
After handing the document to Kurlen I returned to the lectern and asked the judge to mark the document as Defense Exhibit 3. I then told Kurlen to read the letter.
“ ‘Dear Mr. Opparizio, This letter is to inform—’ ”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “Could you first read and describe what is at the top of the letter? The letterhead?”
“It says ‘Office of the United States Attorney, Los Angeles’ and it’s got a picture of an eagle on one side and the U.S. flag on the other. Should I read the letter part now?”
“Yes, please do.”
“ ‘Dear Mr. Opparizio, This letter is to inform you that A. Louis Opparizio Financial Technologies—known as ALOFT—and you, individually, are among the targets of a multi-agency task force investigating all levels of mortgage fraud in Southern California. Receipt of this letter puts you on notice not to remove or destroy any documents or work materials related to the business of your company. Should you wish to discuss this investigation and cooperate with members of the task force, please do not hesitate to call or have your legal counsel make contact with me or Charles Vasquez, of the U.S. Secret Service, who has been assigned to the ALOFT investigation as case agent. We will make every effort to meet with you to discuss this matter. If you do not wish to cooperate, you can be assured that you will be contacted shortly by agents of the task force. I once again have to remind you not to destroy or remove any documents or work product from your offices or associated premises. To do so after receiving this notice would be to commit a serious crime against the United States of America. Sincerely, Reginald Lattimore, U.S. Attorney, Los Angeles.’ That’s it, except it gives everybody’s phone numbers at the bottom.”
A low murmur went through the courtroom. I was sure most of the general citizenry was unaware of things like federal target letters. It was law enforcement in the new era. I was sure the so-called task force amounted to token contributions of agents from a handful of agencies and no budget. Instead of mounting expensive investigations, it would take a shot at scaring people into coming in and begging for mercy. A design to pick the low-hanging fruit, grab a few headlines and call it a day. Someone like Opparizio probably used the original letter received via certified mail as toilet paper. But that didn’t matter to me. My plan was to use the letter to help keep my client out of prison.
“Thank you, Detective Kurlen. Now, can you tell us, is the letter dated?”
Kurlen checked the copy before answering.
“It’s dated January eighteenth of this year.”
“Now, Detective, had you seen that letter before yesterday?”
“No, why should I have seen it? It’s got nothing to do with—”
“Move to strike as unresponsive,” I said quickly. “Your Honor, the question was simply whether he had seen the letter before.”
The judge instructed Kurlen to answer only the question asked.
“I had not seen this letter before yesterday.”
“Thank you, Detective. And now let’s go back to the other letter I asked you to read yesterday, from the victim, Mitchell Bondurant, to the same Louis Opparizio who is addressed in the federal target letter. Do you have that handy there in your binder?”
“If I could have a moment.”
“Please.”
Kurlen found the letter in the binder, removed it and held it up.
“Good. Can you tell us the date of that letter, please?”
“January tenth, this year.”
“And that letter was delivered to Mr. Opparizio by certified mail, correct?”
“It was sent certified. I cannot tell you if Mr. Opparizio received it or ever saw it. It has someone else’s name listed as signing for it.”
“But no matter who signed for it, it is a certainty that it was sent on January tenth, correct?”
“I think that’s correct.”
“And the second letter we’ve talked about here, the target letter from the Secret Service agent, was sent by certified mail as well, am I right?”
“That’s right.”
“So the date of January eighteenth is certified as to when it was mailed.”
“Correct.”
“So let me see if I have this right. Mr. Bondurant sends Louis Opparizio a certified letter that threatens to expose alleged fraudulent practices in his company and then eight days later a federal task force sends Mr. Opparizio another certified letter, this one saying he is the target of an investigation into foreclosure fraud. Do I have this time line right, Detective Kurlen?”
“As far as I know, yes.”
“And then less than two weeks later Mr. Bondurant is brutally murdered in the garage at WestLand, right?”
“That’s right.”
I paused and rubbed my chin like a deep thinker. I really wanted to hold the jury with this. I wanted to look at their faces but knew it would reveal my play. So I went with the deep thinker pose.
&nbs
p; “Detective, you have testified about your wealth of experience as a homicide detective, correct?”
“I have a lot of experience, yes.”
“Hypothetically speaking, do you wish you knew then what you know now?”
Kurlen squinted like he was confused, even though he knew exactly what I was doing and where I was going.
“I’m not sure I understand,” he said.
“Put it this way, would it have been good for you to have those letters in hand on the first day of the murder investigation?”
“Sure, why not? I’d take all evidence and information on the first day anytime. But that never happens.”
“Hypothetically speaking, if you knew that your victim, Mitchell Bondurant, had sent a letter threatening to expose another man’s criminal behavior just eight days before that man learned he was the target of a criminal investigation, wouldn’t that be a significant avenue of investigation for you?”
“It is hard to say.”
Now I looked at the jury. Kurlen was waffling, refusing to acknowledge what common sense dictated he should own up to. You didn’t need to be a detective to understand that.
“Hard to say? Are you saying that if you had this information and these letters on the day of the murder it would be hard to say if you would follow up on them as a significant lead?”
“I’m saying that we don’t have all the details so it is hard to say how significant it was or wasn’t. But as a general answer, all leads are followed up. It’s as simple as that.”
“As simple as that, yet you never pursued this angle of investigation, did you?”
“I didn’t have this letter. How could I have followed it up?”
“You had the victim’s letter and you did nothing with it, did you?”
“Not true at all. I checked it out and determined it had nothing to do with the murder.”
“But isn’t it true that by that time you already had your supposed murderer and you weren’t going to let anything change your mind or make you deviate from that path?”
“No, not true. Not true at all.”
I stared at Kurlen for a long time, hoping that my face showed my disgust.
The Fifth Witness: A Novel Page 27