The Last Chance Lawyer

by William Bernhardt

  “He will lie. He is the devil incarnate.”

  “Again, not disagreeing. I’ll do my best to punch holes in any lies during cross-examination.”

  “It will not help. He is too smooth, too clever. Too experienced at the lying game. And he hates me. Even as I worked for him, he hated me, because he knew he could not control me. He could not have me.”

  He decided not to inquire into the details of what that might mean. He laid his hand over hers. He could see that some of the jurors were watching them. No telling what they might read into her current expression. “Poker face, Gabriella. Poker face.”

  Jazlyn called Emilio to the witness stand. They spent the first fifteen minutes establishing him as a legitimate businessman. But she followed with a series of surprises that not only caught him off guard, but reminded him why Jazlyn had risen as far and as fast in the prosecutor’s department as she had. She was smart.

  After establishing that Emilio had lawful enterprises, she introduced the topic of drug running. She knew that he would do it on cross if she didn’t, and she knew it was possible to call any number of witnesses, including law enforcement officers, who would testify that there was at the very least a strong suspicion that Emilio was involved in drug pushing on the Southside. As Emilio told the story, though, drugs were something he had done in his early days, when he was young, before he knew better. Which was easy to admit, since he now had immunity for all past crimes. He explained that when he was fifteen, he was groomed by a man named Hector—the Emilio of the day. Hector gave Emilio his training, both as a businessman and a gangster. After Hector was rubbed out, Emilio took over. But he claimed he transitioned out of drug running as quickly as possible.

  “I saw what drugs did to my neighborhood,” he said, with an almost palpable earnestness. “How it destroyed my friends, my family.” He lowered his eyes. “My mother’s still a hopeless drug addict, despite all I tried to do for her. I have seen how drugs wreck people’s lives. I didn’t want that to be my legacy.”

  Emilio was not only coming across as earnest, but as impressively intelligent. Most of the street jive had somehow been bled out of his speech. “I took office space down by the pier where I could afford it and tried to learn from the businessmen who surrounded me. I started by getting a piece of the fishing business, so lucrative here, and then moved into import and export. I specialized in south-of-the-border electronics—cheap stuff that large corporations sometimes overlook because the profit margins aren’t large enough. If you do enough business, though, even small profit margins add up.” He smiled. “I couldn’t afford to get into a luxury market. So I got into a volume market.”

  “And you were successful, weren’t you?”

  “Success came slowly, and after much hard work. But yes. After about five years, we were doing more than a million dollars of business annually. A few years after that, we had a million dollars of profit.”

  “What did you do with all that money?”

  “I created jobs. That was my goal, first and foremost. I wanted to create alternatives for the people on the Southside. I don’t believe those neighborhoods are infested by drugs and gangs because my people are inherently bad. It’s all economics. There are no good jobs. Sometimes there are no jobs at all. They can’t afford to go to the University of Miami and get four-year business degrees. They take the path of least resistance, the jobs that are available. And in our neighborhood, too often that means gangs. I wanted to create an alternative.”

  “Some people believe you’re a gang leader,” Jazlyn said.

  “I suppose that depends on how you define ‘gang leader.’ I had employees. I had people who worked for me. And we frequently operated in those poorer neighborhoods. But we were creating good jobs and promoting honest business operations. We were not involved in illegal activities. And we were certainly not involved in turf wars or shootings. That’s what I was trying to get away from.”

  He heard Gabriella mutter under her breath. Bullshit.

  He shot her a look. Poker face.

  “Did you know the defendant? Gabriella Valdez?”

  “I did. She worked for me, not full-time, but occasionally, when I had something for her. She was basically a gofer. She didn’t have the training or experience to work in a more professional capacity. I have training programs, but she didn’t want to do that. Her options were limited. I used her when I could. She was raising an orphan girl named Esperanza. Sweet little thing. I knew that created a financial strain.”

  “Tell us about the victim. Jorge Sanchez.”

  An unpleasant expression crossed Emilio’s face. “A disgusting human being. I didn’t wish him dead. But then again...” He glanced at the jurors. “No one will miss him.”

  He couldn’t help but be impressed by what a fine job Emilio was doing on the witness stand. He didn’t believe any of it. Emilio’s constant arrests made it hard to believe he had left the drug business behind. But the man on the witness stand was not the smirking arrogant thug he had represented so often. He didn’t know if this was the result of personal growth or coaching by Jazlyn, but he came off as a transformed man.

  “Was Sanchez also a businessman?”

  “If you want to use that word. Of course, he did have some cover businesses. He had a tequila line, if I’m not mistaken. Reasonably successful, good enough to launder money through. But that was not where the majority of his wealth came from. He bought and sold people.”

  “Are you talking about sex trafficking?”

  “Prostitution, both genders, but mostly women. Sometimes adults, sometimes children. Transsexuals, bondage freaks, virgins—he catered to a wide variety of tastes. Word on the street was that he came to Florida to expand his business and to recruit more...employees.”

  “Did you have anything to do with his death?”

  “Absolutely not. As I said, I didn’t wish him dead, but I won’t pretend we aren’t better off without him. He was a blight on humanity. He gave my people a bad name and contributed to the stereotypical bigotry we fight to this day. And he was targeting my neighborhood.”

  “Did you put out a hit on him?”

  “No. Never. I don’t do that.”

  “Some have suggested that the shooting at the Trademark was a trap you laid for him.”

  “More like a trap he laid for me. Do you think I normally would be out on the street at that time of night? My assistant got word of an offer from Sanchez’ camp. I was told that in exchange for a sum of money, Sanchez would release twenty women, women I knew to be sex slaves.”

  He watched Emilio carefully. This was not the same story he told back at the jailhouse.

  “Did you believe it?” Jazlyn asked.

  “Of course I did,” Emilio replied. “Sanchez has sold women before, usually when he needed money fast. I didn’t even know Sanchez was in the United States till I got the message. Apparently he’d been here for some time, keeping a low profile. But keeping a low profile is expensive. I know Sanchez has bank accounts all around the world, but he might not have been able to access them without revealing his location.”

  “And were you prepared to deliver the cash?”

  “I was happy to do so, if it would set sex slaves free.”

  “Did you consider contacting the police?”

  “That would not have been smart. At best, they might’ve arrested him. But they never would’ve found the women. By keeping the pipeline open, I increased the possibility that not only these women, but others, might be released.”

  “Did you know any of the women in question?”

  “I knew at least one of them.” He nodded toward the defendant’s table. “Gabriella’s younger sister. Her name is Luciana.”

  He heard a small gasp escape from Gabriella’s mouth. She lowered her head.

  He felt a chill race down his spine. What was this?

  And what else had she not told him?

  He exchanged a cold glance with Maria. She understood the significance as
well as he did. Emilio wasn’t just exonerating himself. He was giving Gabriella an additional motive for murdering Sanchez.

  Emilio continued. “Gabriella very much wanted Luciana set free. Apparently her sister had fallen apart mentally. It happens a lot to women trapped in that barbaric, humiliating lifestyle.”

  “So Gabriella urged you to pave Luciana’s path to freedom.”

  “Yes. And I tried to do it.”

  “Did you ask the defendant to be present on the night of the shooting?”

  “She insisted upon it. I didn’t want anyone there who didn’t need to be there. But she came anyway. Said she wanted to make sure her sister was set free. Gabriella also feared that immigration would turn Esperanza over to Sanchez and that he would turn the girl into one of his prostitutes.”

  “We’ve all seen the video taken at the Trademark. Gabriella appears to be talking to you.”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “I urged her to go home. Although I hoped this business transaction could be executed peaceably, I knew an outbreak of violence was possible. I brought security people of my own.”

  “The video also shows that she was carrying a satchel or bag of some sort. What was in the satchel?”

  “She brought a gun.”

  There was an audible gasp in the courtroom. He wanted to turn around and see who it was, but he knew if he did, the jury would follow his lead.

  “She brought a gun to this... business transaction?”

  “I did not want her to. I thought it was an extremely bad idea. If anyone saw the gun, it could trigger violence. And sadly, that’s exactly what happened.”

  “Please tell the jury what occurred, as you remember it.”

  He pressed his lips together, as if gathering his thoughts. “Gabriella removed a small silver handgun from the bag. It was a powerful weapon, small but efficient. I immediately told her to put it away, but she didn’t. Sanchez’ men saw it. They of course drew their weapons. Gabriella demanded the release of her sister, pointing the gun at Sanchez. She fired twice. And then we had a shootout.”

  “Did any of your men have guns?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did they shoot anyone?”

  “No, though they did fire. But the only one who killed anyone...was Gabriella.”

  More audible reaction from the courtroom, except this time, he was certain at least part of it came from the jury box.

  “You’re certain of that?”

  “I saw it with my own eyes. I screamed at her to stop, but she didn’t listen. She shot him twice. Killed him.”

  “She must be a very good shot.”

  “She’s a crack shot. Trained.”

  “Was the exchange ever completed?”

  “How could it be? Sanchez was dead. The operation was blown.”

  “Were the women freed?”

  “Some of them. Including Gabriella’s sister. I believe immigration authorities found them tied up in a storage locker the next day. Thank God. With Sanchez gone, they might’ve rotted there forever.”

  Jazlyn paused for a moment, giving the jurors time to absorb what they had heard. “Just to be clear, Emilio, let me ask the question straight up. Did Gabriella shoot Sanchez?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you certain of that?”

  “I am. She hated that man. She blamed him for her sister’s breakdown. And she believed he would force Esperanza into his sex slavery ring. She wanted to stop him. So she killed him.”

  Chapter 37

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your sister?”

  Gabriella’s head hung low. She did not respond.

  “Do you remember when I told you to give me everything? Everything? When I told you that keeping secrets would make it impossible for me to do my job?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Do you realize you just stuck your head into a noose?”

  Maria cut in. “Ok, let’s all calm down. Take a breath.”

  They were in the consultation space near the courtroom, waiting for the trial to continue. “You realize this revelation undermines our entire trial strategy. Everything you planned.”

  Maria remained calm. “Trial plans are made to be modified. We’ll cope.”

  “I don’t see how.” He turned back to his client. “The worst of it is, you’ve not only killed your own chances of survival, you’ve virtually guaranteed that Esperanza will be deported.” His voice rose. “And sent straight into that sex-trafficking ring!”

  “Dan!”

  Gabriella covered her face, tears streaming between her fingers. “I wanted to protect her. That’s why I did everything. I thought if people knew about my sister, they would assume I was guilty. And then where would Esperanza be?”

  “Better off than she is now.”

  “And I was afraid no one would help Luciana if they thought she was connected to a murderer. To drug pushers. She needs help. Her mind...it is completely shattered.”

  “We have to talk to her.”

  “I did not even know she was in the country until Emilio told me, the night of the killing. And she could not assist you. She’s...gone.”

  “We could have found help for her. We have resources. But now we can’t do a damn thing for anyone.”

  Maria laid her hand on his shoulder and whispered. “Dan, court will resume in a few minutes. You need to get a grip.”

  He wanted to say—What’s the point? But he kept it in check. Maria was right. The jury had just heard devastating eyewitness testimony backed by a credible motive. If he didn’t come up with something fast, it was all over for Esperanza.

  “Did anyone else know about your sister?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Ramon Alvarez. I told you he was at my house the night of the shooting.”

  “Great. Another potential loose cannon.”

  What he needed was someone else who witnessed the shooting. If Emilio was the only eyewitness, the jury would give his testimony disproportionate weight.

  He hated dealing with so-called eyewitness testimony. Inevitably, jurors treated eyewitnesses as if they were the most dependable, most unchallengeable form of testimony. In reality, forensic evidence was far more reliable. Unfortunately, forensic evidence tended to be dull. It was easy to confuse jurors with scientific matters. But an eyewitness, someone who claimed they saw what happened with their own eyes? That was hard to beat.

  In truth, eyewitness testimony was inherently unreliable. People believe that their memories are inviolate, that a memory is like a book shelved in the library. You take the book down later and read it just as it was originally written. Recent scientific studies proved that is completely untrue. Memories are more like computer files, changed every time they’re accessed. Unconsciously, people tend to improve stories, to solidify or rewrite what they heard or saw.

  Memories are even more unreliable if the witness is influenced by other factors, like what they read in the newspaper or saw on TV, or saw in a lineup, or heard from police officers. Prosecution witnesses are subjected to a daily diet of people reminding them what they saw or should have seen. It was virtually impossible to not be influenced by that. Studies showed that memories can be planted, even completely created, in less than a week’s time. The so-called eyewitness can come to completely believe something that never happened.

  They returned to the courtroom. He had no idea how to handle this cross-examination, and Maria wasn’t passing along any brilliant suggestions. Gabriella insisted that Emilio’s testimony was a pack of lies, but they certainly sounded plausible. Emilio’s story made sense, and in his experience, that’s what persuaded juries most. A coherent story that simply made sense.

  Jimmy suggested making some kind of self-defense plea, but he knew that wouldn’t fly. Gabriella was the one who brought the gun, and at least according to Emilio, she was the one who started the gunfight. Not the best scenario for a self-defense claim.

  Another possibility would b
e to claim that she acted in defense of another. Sanchez did present a tangible threat to Esperanza. But to make that claim work, they would have to show an immediate threat. If Sanchez had pointed a gun to Esperanza’s head, she might be able to get away with executing him. But absent that immediacy, no way. Her option was to go to the police, or perhaps the immigration authorities.

  He decided to start the cross by discussing the immunity agreement itself. Surely the jurors would be somewhat skeptical of testimony that so clearly had been bought and paid for.

  “Hello, Emilio. Good to see you again.”

  Emilio nodded.

  “Last night you executed an immunity agreement with the prosecutors.” He held it up so the jury could see it. “Would you please explain what that means?”

  Emilio shrugged. “I agreed to testify. They agreed to drop all charges against me.”

  “And not just charges relating to this incident. All charges arising at any time prior to the shootout.”

  “That’s the deal.”

  “Why would a legit businessman like you be worried about charges?”

  “Just being careful.”

  “Why would they go after the savior of the Southside?”

  “Prosecutors target Hispanics. You know it’s true. You’ve represented enough people in my community. When the cops need a patsy, they drive south.”

  Harder to argue with something you suspect is accurate. “Do you have any evidence of that?”

  “No one in my hood has any doubt about it. There are also many police officers who resent my financial success. They don’t like it when, to quote a phrase I’ve heard many times, the homie gets uppity.”

  “So you agreed to testify for the prosecution, and in exchange, they gave you a get-out-of-jail-free card. They wouldn’t do that unless you offered them something valuable, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Basically, you agreed to finger Gabriella.”

  “I agreed to tell them what happened.”

  “Gabriella is from your neighborhood, isn’t she?”

  “True.”

  “We just heard about how loyal you are to people back in the hood, and the people who work for you, but today you’re throwing one to the dogs. To save yourself.”