The Fifth Witness: A Novel

by Michael Connelly

  It was too loud in the restaurant for a phone call. Cisco slipped out of the booth and headed toward the door while pulling his cell. We watched him go.

  “You know, he looks good in a real shirt like that,” Aronson said.

  “Really?” Lorna responded. “I don’t like the sleeves.”

  Forty-six

  I almost didn’t recognize Donald Driscoll with his hair combed and a suit on. Cisco had placed him in a witness room down the hall from the courtroom. When I stepped in he looked up at me from the table with scared eyes.

  “How was the Saints club?” I asked.

  “I would’ve rather been somewhere else,” he said.

  I nodded in false sympathy.

  “Are you ready for this?”

  “No, but I’m here.”

  “Okay, in a few minutes Cisco will come get you and bring you to the courtroom.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Look, I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but you’re doing the right thing.”

  “You’re right… about it not seeming like it now.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  “All right, I’ll see you in there.”

  I left the room and signaled to Cisco, who was standing in the hallway with the two men who had been minding Driscoll. I pointed down the hall toward the courtroom and Cisco nodded. I proceeded on and entered the courtroom to find Jennifer Aronson and Lisa Trammel at the defense table. I sat down but before I could say anything to either one of them, the judge entered the courtroom and took the bench. He called for the jury and we quickly went back on the record. I called Donald Driscoll to the stand. After he was sworn in, I got right down to business.

  “Mr. Driscoll, what is your profession?”

  “I’m in IT.”

  “And what does IT mean?”

  “Information technology. It means I work with computers, the Internet. I find the best way to use new technologies to gather information for the client or employer or whoever it may be.”

  “You are a former employee of ALOFT, correct?”

  “Yes, I worked there for ten months until earlier this year.”

  “In IT?”

  “Yes.”

  “What exactly did you do in IT for ALOFT?”

  “I had several duties. It’s a very computer-reliant business. A lot of employees and a great need for access to information through the Internet.”

  “And you helped them get it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, do you know the defendant, Lisa Trammel?”

  “I’ve never met her. I know of her.”

  “You know of her from this case?”

  “Yeah, but also from before.”

  “From before. How so?”

  “One of my duties at ALOFT was to try to keep tabs on Lisa Trammel.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know why. I was just told to do it and I did it.”

  “Who told you to keep tabs on Lisa Trammel?”

  “Mr. Borden, my supervisor.”

  “Did he tell you to keep tabs on anybody else?”

  “Yes, a bunch of other people.”

  “How many is a bunch?”

  “I guess there were about ten.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Other mortgage protestors like Trammel. Plus employees of some of the banks we did business with.”

  “Like who?”

  “The man who was killed. Mr. Bondurant.”

  I checked my notes for a while and let that percolate with the jury.

  “Now, by keeping tabs, what did that mean?”

  “I was to look for whatever I could find on these people online.”

  “Did Mr. Borden ever tell you why you had this assignment?”

  “I asked him once and he said because Mr. Opparizio wants the information.”

  “Is that Louis Opparizio, founder and president of ALOFT?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now were there any specific instructions from Mr. Borden in regard to Lisa Trammel?”

  “No, it was just sort of see what you can find out there.”

  “And when did this become your assignment?”

  “It was last year. I started working at ALOFT in April and so it would have been a few months after that.”

  “Could it have been July or August?”

  “Yeah, right about then.”

  “Did you give the information you got to Mr. Borden?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Did there come a time that you became aware that Lisa Trammel was on Facebook?”

  “Yes, it was sort of an obvious thing to check.”

  “Did you become her friend on Facebook?”

  “Yes.”

  “And this put you in a position to monitor her posts about the FLAG organization and the foreclosure of her home, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you tell your supervisor about this specifically?”

  “I told him that she was on Facebook and was fairly active, and that it was a good spot for monitoring what she was doing and planning for FLAG.”

  “How did he respond?”

  “He told me to monitor it and then summarize everything once a week in an e-mail. So that’s what I did.”

  “And did you use your own name when you sent Lisa Trammel your friend request?”

  “Yes. I was already on Facebook as, you know, myself. So I didn’t hide it. I mean, I doubted she knew who I was anyway.”

  “What sort of reports did you give Mr. Borden?”

  “You know, like if her group was planning a protest somewhere I would tell them the date and time, that sort of stuff.”

  “You just said ‘them.’ Were you giving these reports to someone other than Mr. Borden?”

  “No, but I knew he was forwarding them to Mr. Opparizio because Mr. O. would send me e-mails every now and then about the stuff I sent Mr. Borden. So I knew he was seeing the reports.”

  “In all of this, did you do anything illegal while snooping around for Borden and Opparizio?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Now did one of your weekly summaries of Lisa Trammel’s activities ever include reference to her posts about being in the garage at WestLand National and waiting to talk to Mitchell Bondurant?”

  “Yes, there was one. WestLand was one of the company’s biggest clients and I thought maybe Mr. Bondurant should know, if he didn’t already, that this woman had waited for him out there.”

  “So you gave Mr. Borden the details of how Lisa Trammel had found Mr. Bondurant’s parking spot and waited for him?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he said thanks?”

  “Yes.”

  “And this was all in e-mails?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you keep a copy of the e-mail you sent Mr. Borden?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “It’s just kind of a general practice of mine, to keep copies, especially when dealing with important people.”

  “Did you happen to bring a copy of that e-mail with you today?”

  “I did.”

  Freeman objected and asked for a sidebar. At the bench she successfully argued that there was no way of legitimizing what purported to be a printout of an old e-mail. The judge wouldn’t let me introduce it, saying I would have to stick with Driscoll’s recollections.

  Returning to the lectern, I decided I had made it clear to the jury that Borden knew Trammel had previously been in the garage and that Borden was a conduit to Opparizio. The elements of a setup were right there. The prosecution would have them believe that the first time Lisa was in the garage was a dry run for the murder she would later commit. I would have them believe that whoever set Trammel up had all he needed to know, thanks to Facebook.

  I moved on.

  “Mr. Driscoll, you said that Mitchell Bondurant was one of the people you were asked to gather information on, is that correct?”

/>   “Yes.”

  “What information did you gather on him?”

  “Mostly about his personal real estate holdings. What properties he owned, when he bought them and for how much. Who held the mortgages. That sort of thing.”

  “So you supplied to Mr. Borden a financial snapshot.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did you come across any liens against Mr. Bondurant or his properties?”

  “Yes, there were several. He owed money around.”

  “And all of this information went to Borden?”

  “Yes, it did.”

  I decided to leave it there on Bondurant. I didn’t want the jury straying too far from the main point of Driscoll’s testimony: that ALOFT had been watching Lisa and had all the information needed to set her up for murder. Driscoll had been effective and I would now close out his testimony with a bang.

  “Mr. Driscoll, when did you leave your position at ALOFT?”

  “February first.”

  “Was it your choice or were you fired?”

  “I told them I was quitting so they fired me.”

  “Why did you want to quit?”

  “Because Mr. Bondurant had gotten murdered in the parking garage and I didn’t know whether the lady who got arrested, Lisa Trammel, did it or if there was something else going on. I saw Mr. Opparizio in the elevator the day after it was in the news and everybody in the office knew about it. We were going up but when we got to my floor he held my arm while everybody else got off. We went up to his floor alone and he didn’t say anything until the doors opened. Then he said, ‘Keep your fucking mouth shut,’ and got off. And the doors closed.”

  “Those were his words, ‘Keep your fucking mouth shut’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “No.”

  “So this led you to quit your job?”

  “Yes, about an hour later I gave two weeks’ notice. But about ten minutes after I did that Mr. Borden came to my desk and told me I was out. Fired. He had a box for my personal stuff and he had a security guard come watch me while I packed up. Then they walked me out.”

  “Did they give you a severance package?”

  “As I was leaving Mr. Borden gave me an envelope. It had a check in it for a year’s salary.”

  “That was pretty generous, giving you a year’s salary, considering you hadn’t even worked there a full year and you had said you were quitting, don’t you think?”

  Freeman objected on relevance and it was sustained.

  “I have nothing further for this witness.”

  Freeman took my place, arriving at the lectern with her trusty file, which she spread open. I had not put Driscoll on my witness list until that morning but his name had come up during Friday’s testimony. I was sure Freeman had done some prep work. I was about to find out how much.

  “Mr. Driscoll, you don’t have a college degree, do you?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “But you attended UCLA, did you not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you graduate?”

  I stood and objected, saying her questions were going way outside the scope of Driscoll’s direct testimony. But the judge said I opened the door when I asked the witness about his credentials and experience in IT. He told Driscoll to answer the question.

  “I didn’t graduate because I was expelled.”

  “For what?”

  “Cheating. I hacked into a teacher’s computer and downloaded an exam the night before it was given.”

  Driscoll said it with an almost bored tone to his voice. Like he knew this was going to come out. I knew this was in his background. I told him that if it came out he had only one choice, to be absolutely honest. Otherwise, he would be inviting disaster.

  “So you are a cheater and a thief, correct?”

  “I was, and that was more than ten years ago. I don’t cheat anymore. There’s nothing to cheat for.”

  “Really? And what about stealing?”

  “Same thing. I don’t steal.”

  “Isn’t it true that your employment at ALOFT was severed abruptly when it was discovered that you were systematically stealing from the company?”

  “That is a lie. I told them I was quitting and then they canned me.”

  “Aren’t you the one who is lying here?”

  “No, I’m telling the truth. You think I could just make this stuff up?”

  Driscoll made a desperate glance toward me and I wished he hadn’t. It could be interpreted as collusion between us. Driscoll was on his own up there. I couldn’t help him.

  “As a matter of fact I do, Mr. Driscoll,” Freeman said. “Isn’t it true that you had quite a little business for yourself running out of ALOFT?”

  “No.”

  Driscoll demonstrably shook his head in support of his denial. I read him as lying right there and I realized I was in deep trouble. The severance package, I thought. The year’s pay. They don’t fire people and give them a year’s pay if they’ve been stealing. Bring up the severance package!

  “Were you not using ALOFT as a front to order expensive software, then break the security codes and sell bootleg copies over the Internet?”

  “That’s not true. I knew this would happen if I told anyone what I know.”

  This time he did more than look at me. He pointed at me.

  “I told you this would happen. I told you these people don’t—”

  “Mr. Driscoll!” the judge boomed. “You answer the question posed to you by counsel. You do not talk to defense counsel or anyone else.”

  Trying to keep her momentum, Freeman swooped in for the kill.

  “Your Honor, may I approach the witness with a document?”

  “You may. Are you going to mark it?”

  “People’s Exhibit Nine, Your Honor.”

  She had copies for everybody. I leaned close to Aronson so we could read it together. It was a copy of an internal investigation report from ALOFT.

  “Did you know about any of this?” Aronson whispered.

  “Of course not,” I whispered back.

  I leaned forward to focus on the examination. I didn’t want a first-year lawyer tsk-tsking me over a gigantic vetting failure.

  “What is that document, Mr. Driscoll?” Freeman asked.

  “I don’t know,” the witness responded. “I’ve never seen it before.”

  “It is an internal investigation summary from ALOFT, isn’t it?”

  “If you say so.”

  “When is it dated?”

  “February first.”

  “That was your last day of work at ALOFT, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it was. That morning I gave my supervisor two weeks’ notice and then they erased my login and fired me.”

  “For cause.”

  “For no cause. Why do you think they gave me the big check at the door? I knew things and they were trying to shut me up.”

  Freeman looked up at the judge.

  “Your Honor, could you instruct the witness to refrain from answering my questions with his own questions.”

  Perry nodded.

  “The witness will answer questions, not pose them.”

  It didn’t matter, I thought. He had gotten it out there.

  “Mr. Driscoll, could you please read the paragraph of the report I have highlighted in yellow?”

  I objected, stating that the report was not in evidence. The judge overruled, allowing the reading to proceed subject to a later evidentiary ruling.

  Driscoll read the paragraph to himself and then shook his head.

  “Out loud, Mr. Driscoll,” the judge prompted.

  “But this is all complete lies. This is what they do to—”

  “Mr. Driscoll,” the judge intoned grumpily. “Read the paragraph aloud, please.”

  Driscoll hesitated one last time and then finally read.

  “ ‘The employee admitted that he had purchased the software packages with a compa
ny requisition and then returned them after copying the copyrighted materials. The employee admitted he has been selling counterfeit copies of the software over the Internet, using company computers to facilitate this business. The employee admitted earning more than one hundred thousand—’ ”

  Driscoll suddenly crushed the document with both hands into a ball and threw it across the courtroom.

  Right at me.

  “You did this!” he yelled at me, following his pitch with a pointed finger. “I was fine in the world till you showed up!”

  Once again Judge Perry could’ve used a gavel. He called for order and for the jury to return to the deliberations room. They quickly filed out of the courtroom as if being chased by Driscoll himself. Once the door was closed the judge took further action, signaling the courtroom deputy forward.

  “Jimmy, take the witness to the holding cell while counsel and I discuss this in chambers.”

  He got up and stepped off the bench and quickly slipped through the door to his chambers before I could mount a protest over how my witness was being treated.

  Freeman followed and I detoured to the witness stand.

  “Just go and I’ll get this over. You’ll be right back out.”

  “You fucking liar,” he said, anger jumping in his eyes. “You said it would be easy and safe and now look at this. The whole world thinks I’m a fucking software thief! You think I’ll ever find work again?”

  “Well, if I had known you were hijacking software I probably wouldn’t have put you on the stand.”

  “Fuck you, Haller. You better hope this is over because if I have to come back here, I’m going to make up some shit about you.”

  The deputy was leading him toward the door that led to the holding cell next to the courtroom. As he went I noticed Aronson standing at the defense table. Her face told the story. All her good work of the morning possibly undone.

  “Mr. Haller?” the court clerk said from her corral. “The judge is waiting.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m coming.”

  I headed toward the door.

  Forty-seven

  Four Green Fields was always dead on Monday nights. It was a bar that catered to the legal crowd and it usually wasn’t until a few days into the week that lawyers started to need alcohol to dampen the burdens of conscience. We could’ve had our pick of the place but we took to the bar, Aronson sitting between me and Cisco.