by Andrew Price
“Your Honor, I object!” Beckett exclaimed, shooting out of his chair. “Mr. Beaumont has no prior convictions. Innocent until proven guilty, Your Honor.”
“You are correct, Mr. Beckett, and you may appeal my ruling if you wish,” the judge said in the same measured tone she used from the moment Corbin and Beckett arrived. “I’m going to deny bail. Get out your calendars, counselors. This case will be heard by Judge Sutherlin. Trial will be February 1. Pre-Trial is set for January 30. Expert disclosures no later than thirty days prior. Judge Sutherlin will send out an order identifying all other dates. Any questions?”
“Your Honor, there is another matter,” Beckett replied, signaling Corbin to rise.
“Ah yes, your pro hac vice motion. Granted. Is there anything else?”
“No, Your Honor,” both Beckett and Morales said.
“Next case: People v. Sterling.” The entire proceeding took less than a minute.
As Corbin and Beckett gathered the file from the table, the two deputies replaced Beaumont with another orange-jumpsuited suspect and a new defense attorney appeared behind Corbin and Beckett, ready to take over the table. Before Beaumont left, Beckett promised to visit him that day or the next.
Neither Corbin nor Beckett spoke until they were a little over a block from the courthouse, too far to be heard through any open windows.
“February?” Corbin blurted out. “Whatever happened to speedy trials?”
“Beaumont waived his right to a speedy trial at the arraignment.”
“I thought that was the arraignment?”
“He was officially arraigned twelve hours after his arrest, he just didn’t enter a plea at that time. That’s why we had to go back today.” Beckett pulled the file from his briefcase. “Can you work your magic on this?” He handed the file to Corbin.
“Yes, but you and I need an understanding.” They stopped walking. “I need your assurance you won’t do anything without telling me first.”
Beckett looked at Corbin strangely, as if he didn’t quite grasp Corbin’s meaning.
“I’m serious, Evan. I need to know that I can trust you.”
“What are you getting at?” Beckett sounded confused, hurt and somewhat offended.
“What do you think I’m getting at? You call me from out of the blue to tell me about this,” Corbin said testily, waving the file in Beckett’s face, “and that you signed up to represent this guy without ever consulting me? Then you tell me you’re planning to turn yourself in?!”
“I won’t turn you in,” Beckett interrupted. “You have my word. If I have to turn myself in, I’ll go down alone.”
“I don’t think that’s possible, Evan. If you turn yourself in, you’ll implicate me as well.”
“I won’t.”
“I want to be told before you do anything.”
“Of course, I’ll tell you,” Beckett said sincerely.
“Anything,” Corbin stressed.
Beckett nodded his head. “I will, I swear.”
Corbin stared into Beckett’s eyes, trying to assess his veracity. Beckett shrugged, as if to say he had nothing else to offer, and he awaited Corbin’s response.
“All right,” Corbin finally replied. “But I want to see the wallet. I want to make sure it doesn’t have anything that can lead back to me.”
“What wallet?”
“The wallet, the one you took.”
Beckett shrugged his shoulders and wrinkled his brow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about? I never took a wallet.”
“You’re telling me you didn’t keep one of the wallets?”
Suddenly, Beckett’s jaw dropped and his eyes became huge. “From Philly?” he gasped. “Those wallets? I didn’t keep anything, I swear.”
“Then where did it go?!”
“I don’t know, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have any wallet. I never kept anything.”
“So if you turn yourself in, you’re just going to confess? That’s what you’re telling me?”
“Yes. What did you think I was going to do?”
“You’re not holding any evidence you plan to offer to back up your story?”
“I don’t have any evidence,” Beckett replied. His eyes looked at the ground. “I don’t even have the money anymore.”
Corbin recoiled. “What happened to the money?!” he all but screamed.
“I gave it away.”
“To who?!”
“It doesn’t really matter. It’s gone.”
Corbin ground his teeth and his eyes burned a hole into Beckett’s skull.
“I couldn’t keep it,” Beckett admitted. “It was tearing me apart. It was. . . it was wrong.”
“Is there anything else I need to know?!” Corbin asked through gritted teeth. His fists clenched.
“I’ve told you everything.”
“Fuck, you better have! This money isn’t going to show up at trial, is it?”
“I don’t see how.”
“What about the wallet?”
“I don’t know anything about a wallet!” Beckett insisted. Beckett looked around and noticed for the first time that people were walking past them. “You know, maybe we shouldn’t be arguing about this here, on the street.”
They returned in bitter silence to the Tribune Building.
Chapter 26
The conference room, like the rest of the Tribune Building’s seventh floor, had been renovated. Yet, the room still smelled of cigar smoke from the days when newspapermen occupied every inch of the building. One wall of the conference room was lined with books. A Rockwell-like painting of a Tribune paperboy hawking newspapers hung on another. Three windows peered down onto the grayish streets seven floors below.
Corbin spread Beaumont’s file out across the oak conference table. Being a fraud case, a so-called “paper case,” the file contained significantly more evidence than the typical criminal file. Not only were there the usual witness statements and forensics reports, but the file also contained a vast array of bank and credit card documents, copies of checks, and dozens of receipts, along with a raft of evidence related to Beaumont’s prior run-ins with the law. Corbin took copious notes. After an hour of digging through the file, Corbin emerged from the conference room to find Beckett. Beckett’s office was small, but relatively modern. His personal effects were scattered throughout the room.
“I know how they caught our boy,” Corbin stated.
Beckett closed the file he was reading.
“It looks like Beaumont operated an identity theft ring,” Corbin continued. “He was stealing credit cards and checkbooks from mailbox stores. Then he used the checks and credit cards at local stores. Sadly for us, he robbed one of our boxes.”
“I thought you cleared all those out?”
“We did at first. We emptied every box completely, and I accounted for every check and credit card we were expecting. But we never went back to collect monthly statements. It’s possible Beaumont used those to order more checks or maybe some bank sent free checks without telling us? I don’t know. We used the starter checks, and we never ordered regular checks. If a whole new set of checks showed up a few weeks later, we never would have known.”
“I guess it doesn’t matter how he got them?”
“No, not really,” Corbin agreed. “At this point, they’ve charged him with about a dozen bad checks on our accounts and about two dozen bad checks on accounts that aren’t ours. They also charged him with stealing three identities we used to open the accounts and with a weapons charge.”
“They’re up to something with the weapons charge,” Beckett suggested.
“Could be. It seems out of place and there’s not much about it in the file. What’s interesting is they could have charged him with a lot more. I’m not sure why they didn’t. If he’s convicted on all counts, he’s only facing five years max if they run everything consecutively, two if they run everything concurrently. With time off for good behavior, he’ll b
e free in either three years or one year. That’s not a lot of time for a guy like Beaumont. He can do that standing on his head.”
“The prosecutor wants him to plead to three years.”
Corbin furrowed his brow. “That seems a little optimistic on their part. Do you think they’d take two years?”
“It doesn’t matter!” Beckett blurted out. “I’m not letting Beaumont plead guilty to anything we did.”
“What if he wants to?!” Corbin retorted.
“Forget it. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, Beaumont brought this on himself and our crimes are only tangential to his. I don’t accept that.” Beckett rose and stared out the window. “I’m not letting him go down for our crimes, even if they’re mixed in with his own. He’s innocent, and if you’re just here to talk me out of this, then you should leave now. I’m serious about doing the right thing.”
“He may not be guilty, but he’s hardly innocent. Have you read his file?”
Beckett shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what he’s done in the past. I’m only concerned with what he’s accused of now.”
“It does matter. If you’re going to throw your life away for the guy, then you need to understand who he is.”
“I know he’s a bad guy, but right and wrong don’t depend on who gets hurt.”
“Sometimes they do, Evan,” Corbin growled.
“No, Alex, they don’t.”
Corbin flipped through his notes. “Did you know your friend Beaumont deals crack to school kids?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Tell that to the parents. Did you know your friend Beaumont killed two women, at the same time?” Beckett opened his mouth to speak, but Corbin cut him off. “He raped one before killing her. The other one, his girlfriend, he brought along to watch the rape. Then he shot her, right after he shot the woman he raped.”
“Then they should have charged him with murder.”
“Oh, they did. They’ve charged him with all kinds of things, but witnesses have a habit of vanishing before they can testify against him. Take Manuel Lopez. Manuel, a day laborer, had the misfortune of seeing Beaumont leave the scene of the aforementioned double homicide. Two days after his name became known to Beaumont, Manuel disappeared. Manuel reappeared in the river a week later. They’d broken most of his bones with a lead pipe before dumping him into the river to drown.”
“I’m sorry the system doesn’t always work, but maybe if the cops did their jobs a little better, he would already be behind bars. Our suspicion that he’s bad doesn’t give us the right to let him take the fall for our crimes. No matter what he did or what we think he did, this, what’s happening now, isn’t right.”
“Wait a minute,” Corbin protested.
“No. Allowing him to be punished for our crimes is wrong, and we can’t hide behind his prior actions to justify our failure to take responsibility for our own.”
Corbin took a deep breath. “Has it dawned on you that sometimes, maybe just maybe, doing the right thing means letting something wrong happen?”
They stared at each other silently.
“You can’t do good by doing evil,” Beckett finally said. “Right is right. Wrong is wrong. Right and wrong depend on what you do, not who you do it to.”
“Sometimes it does, Evan,” Corbin replied bitterly.
“No, Alex, it never does. We don’t have the right to judge this man.”
“The hell we don’t!”
Both men glared at each other until Beckett turned away.
“Alex, I want you to understand, this isn’t about Beaumont. This is about reconciling ourselves to our consciences and to a higher power.”
“Fair enough,” Corbin replied. “But I want you to understand who you’re protecting.”
“I do.” Beckett picked up the file from his desk. “Are you ready to meet Beaumont? He should be back at jail by now.”
“Can’t wait.” Corbin rolled his eyes. “Before we meet him though, tell me this: what if Beaumont pleads guilty to the other crimes and the charges related to our crimes get dismissed. Will that satisfy you?”
Beckett put his fingers to his lips and stared at his desk. “Yes.”
The visitation room, like the rest of the jail, smelled like a high school locker room. The room itself was small, six feet by six feet, with a door at the front and the back. The walls were cinderblock, except the front wall, which was Plexiglas to allow the guards to observe what happened in the room. Crammed into this room was a small plastic table and three tiny plastic chairs which looked like they belonged at a middle school.
“This is fucking bullshit! I ain’t pleadin’ to no deal,” Beaumont said emphatically, dashing any hope he would take a plea deal. He plopped down in the plastic chair. His wrists and ankles were shackled.
“That’s fine,” Beckett replied. “I had an ethical obligation to let you know they offered a deal. They want you to serve—”
“No! Fuck no! No deal. I said ‘no deal’,” Beaumont barked in cadence.
“All right, you have the right to reject their deal.”
“’Course I got the right. I know my rights.” Beaumont frowned at Corbin. “You still here?”
“Where else would I be?” Corbin replied indifferently.
“Back at yo’ foundation.”
By this time, Beckett had warned Corbin to expect Beaumont to question his story about belonging to a foundation which represents people who are unfairly targeted by the police.
“I’m here to help you,” Corbin said without conviction.
“I ain’t never heard of no foundation.”
“You’ve never heard of the Magna Carta either, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. You want us to leave?” Corbin’s tone made it clear he didn’t care whether or not they continued to represent Beaumont.
“They’ve got a lot of evidence against you,” Beckett interjected, trying to change the topic before Corbin changed Beaumont’s mind about letting them represent him. He spread the file out across the table.
“Yeah, well that’s bullshit,” Beaumont replied with great hostility.
“Drop the act, partner. We’re here to help you,” Corbin shot back.
“Whoa! Everybody calm down,” Beckett commanded, placing his hand in the air between Corbin and Beaumont. “Beaumont, we’re here to help you. Just tell us your side.”
“There ain’t no side, man! Cops set me up.”
“Give me a break,” Corbin said, rolling his eyes.
“Give you a break?! You ain’t the one got the man kickin’ down yo’ door, waving his standard issue in yo’ face. Cops been on me for years.”
“Oh bull! I’ve seen the evidence. You’re guilty as hell. The jury’s gonna beg to convict you.”
“Calm down guys, this isn’t helping,” Beckett said. “I believe you, Beaumont.”
“Don’t gimme that!” Beaumont exploded again. “I ain’t no fool. You don’t believe me. You just here to punch some ticket.”
“That’s not true. I honestly believe you. That’s why we’re here.”
Beaumont stared at Beckett for several seconds. Then he lowered his voice and said, “The cops set me up. I did not do this thing.”
“Tell us what happened.”
“I didn’t do nothin’. First I heard about this identity shit, that cop come blastin’ into my place, jam his piece into the back of my head, and start beatin’ me while his buddies laughed. Then they drop all this evidence and haul my ass off.”
Beckett picked up Corbin’s notes and flipped through several pages. “Where were you on June 14?”
“Let me check my day planner,” Beaumont replied sarcastically. “How am I supposed to know where I was on June 14th? Do you know where you was on June 14th?”
“I do,” Corbin said, followed by a short cynical laugh. June 14th was the day Beckett and Alvarez opened the accounts.
Beckett shot Corbin a nasty look before refocusing on Beaumont. “Have y
ou ever been in Penn Bancorp?”
“No.”
“The manager claims you opened an account there on June 14th.”
“Never happened. Never been in that bank,” Beaumont said rhythmically.
“How about First Regional. The prosecutor claims you opened an account at First Regional Bank on June 14th as well.”
“Never been there neither.”
“They have a teller who claims she can identify you.”
“She’s lying.”
“They have a video from First Regional with you on it.”
“Let me see the video and I can tell you.”
“This is a waste of time!” Corbin declared. He rose from his seat and reached for the file, causing Beaumont to pushed his chair away from the table.
“Everybody hold on!” Beckett commanded. He signaled Corbin to step outside.
“This is a waste of time,” Corbin repeated to Beckett, as Beaumont watched them through the glass. “He may not have done this, but he’s lying to us about being in these banks. How are we supposed to help him if he lies to us?”
“That’s what you get in the system. Every one of these guys lies through their teeth. They want to control the story. They come up with something they think they can sell and they stick with it. They lie to the cops. They lie to the jury. They lie to the judge. They even lie to their lawyers.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. We’re his lawyers. We’re here to help him.”
Beckett shrugged his shoulders and folded his arms. “Not in his world. I’ve met hundreds of guys like him. Every one of them lied. Not one of them trusted me, at least not at first. Every one of them thinks they can control what happens by lying. They all think they’re the cleverest liar on the planet and the story they’ve come up with is a better story than the truth.”
“Well this guy is lying himself right into a conviction. You’ve seen the file. You know they can put him in those two banks. If he sticks with his story that he’s never been there, then he’s doomed.”
Beckett swayed back and forth, something he did whenever he was deep in thought. “We need to rattle his confidence. We need him to realize he’s out of his league this time, that his lies won’t work. I hate doing that though, because it can ruin the attorney-client relationship.”