by Jim Dutton
Nick studied the jury to see if they were receptive to the defense’s character assassination of his two key witnesses. Most of them weren’t buying it. With a few, however, he couldn’t tell. Nick needed to prop up Felicia and Lester in his rebuttal argument.
Nick started his rebuttal argument by refuting various purported facts that the defense argued. He told the jury that a legitimate business, the size of defendants’ purported wholesale agricultural business, which brought in revenues of at least five and a half million dollars per month, didn’t get paid in cash dollars. He reminded the jurors that even the defendants’ business witnesses testified, on cross-examination, that a business would be paid in a combination of cash dollars, pesos, checks and credit cards.
Nick also hammered home the fact, based on the defense’s own witness, the CFO of Numero Uno, that the defendants were the close friends of Mexico’s Assistant Treasury Secretary, Armando Castillo—even going to his daughter’s wedding. Castillo being the same man who held the account with Banco Real which was the payee of all the wire transfers and cashier’s checks from the money laundering operations. He was the same man who had diplomatic immunity if he traveled to the United States. There was no reason to transmit the money to Castillo’s account if the defendants were operating a legitimate business. Also, the CFO of Numero Uno didn’t know accountant Sendow. Thus, Nick emphasized, it was clear the defendants were the ones who set up the framework for the cartel’s money laundering operations, not Sendow.
Nick passionately argued how brave Felicia and Sendow were to testify in light of the Familia’s violence. How they had given up their normal lives to be whisked away into a witness protection program.
“You saw them testify—their demeanor and how they fully answered each of the defense questions, with nothing to hide. They were straightforward in an emotionally charged atmosphere. You’re the sole judges of witness credibility. All the circumstances of this case fit together and demonstrate that they told you the truth.”
Nick continued to make his points, leading up to his summation that defendants Lopez and Sanchez knew about and approved the motorcycle assassination attempt on Felicia. Rona had prepared an eye-catching power point presentation which brought up, in different bright colors, the key facts that supported the conspiracy murder count against the two defendants.
The next to last power point slides showed a matronly looking woman putting ingredients in a tin for apple pie. The final slide showed a delicious looking pie being removed from the oven, the crust slightly browned and hot apple cinnamon syrup bubbling up from holes in the crust.
Nick told the jury, “It takes a number of special ingredients to make Mom’s apple pie. One or two ingredients aren’t enough. But when you put them all together, you know it’s Mom’s apple pie. Like Mom’s apple pie, you’ve heard all of the evidentiary ingredients that lead to only one conclusion, that beyond a reasonable doubt, defendants Lopez and Sanchez are guilty of the conspiracy to murder and the assault with a deadly weapon charges.”
Nick concluded, in an impassioned voice, looking directly in each juror’s eyes in turn, “I request that you return guilty verdicts on all counts against all defendants because the evidence compels guilty verdicts. Felicia’s middle name, Esperanza, means hope in Spanish. Our society has one compelling hope, that there’ll be justice. The return of guilty verdicts is justice in this case. Thank you for your attention and service.”
Nick was mentally exhausted during the time Judge Orsini read the jury instructions. He had Josh pay close attention to the instructions to ensure the judge properly delivered them to the jury. Nick just looked blankly at the judge, pretending to listen. He thought about how much he had been through in this case. How much the entire team had been through, especially Ana. After the instructions were read, the jury was sequestered in the jury room to pick a foreperson. Because it was so late in the day, Judge Orsini told the jury that once they picked a foreperson, they could go home for the weekend and start their deliberations on Monday morning.
This was the first weekend in months that Nick didn’t have trial prep or trial work hanging over his head. A full weekend for anything he wanted to do. Friday night he just went home and slept for 14 hours. On Saturday, he went to his son’s Little League game. Judy had called him on Saturday morning to congratulate him on finishing the case. She had followed it on the news. She knew how much he had put into it and how relieved he must feel now that the trial was over. They fell back into a nearly forgotten pattern of conversation. Nick shared case insights with Judy. Judy caught Nick up on what the kids had been doing the last couple of months. Judy ended the conversation by saying, “Come to Jake’s baseball game, I’ll pack us a picnic lunch.”
Nick watched the game, sitting between Judy and Gabriella. Gabriella snuggled up next to him, sitting on grass above the field. Judy even held his hand for a short time. It reminded Nick of how wonderful the good times were with his family before Judy and he had grown apart. Jake played well—he had two hits and pitched a couple of innings. The game went down to the bottom of the sixth where the opposing team’s eighth batter, who had struck out two times, was up with the bases loaded and two outs. Jake’s team was ahead by one run. On a two-strike count, the closer threw an inside fastball. The hitter turned away and brought up his bat in self-defense. The ball hit the handle and looped over the first baseman’s outstretched glove. The opposing team was screaming for the stunned batter to run to first base. He finally got going and raced down the line. Two runs were going to score. Jake’s team had to get the batter out at first base. The throw came in. Nick thought it was in time. The umpire behind home plate yelled, “Safe! Tie base goes to the runner!” It was over, Jake’s team had lost at the last possible moment by a fluke. Nick hoped it wasn’t a bad omen for his case.
Nick got another surprise call during the weekend. On Saturday evening, the Commissioner of the Attorney General’s Basketball Association, better known as the AGBA, called. The Commissioner, Tommy Daly, had the thankless task of trying to rouse his out-of-shape attorney colleagues to play basketball. Anywhere from six to eight weekend warriors played, all dreaming of better days when they could jump high and finish a drive to the basket. Most didn’t bother to dream that they could make a three-point basket. A game was set at the Coronado High School gym at seven, Sunday morning. One of the other AGBA ballers had a key to the gym. Nick told Tommy he’d be there. Nick called his good buddy from the office, Cam Anthony, to get a ride to the gym. It was kind of on the way for Cam. Cam reluctantly agreed, “It’s only because I haven’t seen your ugly mug in person in a few months while you’ve been off cavorting with the media.”
Nick replied, “Yeah, its been a relaxing few months, just messing around. Don’t you think my best profile is from the left side?”
“Only if you want people to turn off the news.”
Commissioner Tommy went over the AGBA ground rules for the two graduate law students who were interning at the office. “Only two things you young guys have to remember, no jumping, and you don’t call steps on the old guys if you ever want a job at the AG’s office.” By AGBA standards, it was a good game. No one pulled a muscle or sprained an ankle. The Commish even sank a three, Nick had a pull-up basket that reminded him of the old days, and Cam threw a few well-placed elbows in Nick’s gut. The only attorney who had kept a decent portion of his skills, probably because he was quite a bit younger than the senior statesmen of the AGBA, was Cleve Ryder. He could still shoot and jump. Needless to say, he dominated. The two young interns guarded each other. They didn’t want to show skills in case Tommy was being serious about getting a job.
On the way back, Nick opened up to his old buddy. Cam had a way with people where they felt comfortable confiding in him. For a lot of the younger deputies, he was “Uncle Cam”. Nick was very private. He could count the people he confided in on one hand. Nick told Cam about Ana. Cam feigned disbelief,
“There’s no way she would go for you. She’s too hot. Did you get overheated at the gym? You must be hallucinating.”
Nick responded in kind, “Some of us still have it Cam. I’m sorry that your days of attracting the ladies are over. That doesn’t mean you can’t be happy for me. Jealousy doesn’t become you. On second thought, drop a few lbs., buy a sports car, keep dying your hair, and there’s a chance even you can make a comeback with the ladies.”
“Hey asshole. Just because you have grey hair, doesn’t mean I do. You’re looking at the unvarnished me—full head of jet black hair, virile, engaging, a catch for any attractive lady, even decades younger.”
“Okay. Enough with the B.S. What do you think I should do about Ana and Judy? You know Judy and I have been separated for over a year. Yesterday, on the phone, and at Jake’s ballgame, she finally showed some interest and affection.”
“Up until the last six months, you kept telling me you wanted to get back with her, but she wasn’t interested. What has changed?”
“My feelings for Ana have changed. We’ve been through a lot in this case. I think about her all the time. I had put Judy out of my mind. She hadn’t shown any interest in getting back together until yesterday.”
“Your call Nick. Don’t rush into anything. Things will work themselves out. Bottom line, follow your heart. But know it’s your heart, not your dick.”
“Thanks Dr. Phil. Enough of the touchy feely.”
“What about the case? How does it look?”
“I feel good about the case—it went in well. I think we’ll get guilty verdicts on most of the counts. The ones I’m worried about and really want, are the murder conspiracy count and assault with a deadly weapon count where Ana took a couple of bullets and almost bled out. I know that bastard Lopez was behind it. He’s a sociopath. He beat up his girlfriend Felicia and tried to have her killed twice, once by the motorcycle drive-by where Ana was shot and once when a few crazies leveled the safe house in Topeka where Felicia was staying as a protected witness.”
“I remember seeing that on the news. The house was completely destroyed. Didn’t they use a rocket propelled grenade launcher and a 50 caliber machine gun?”
“Yes. Felicia survived by hiding in a storm cellar and Ana almost died again, crashing into a pole to avoid machine gun fire as she approached the house. I know Lopez was behind it, but I can’t prove it. This is hush-hush, nobody outside the case knows about the connection.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
The rest of the ride was standard guy talk—Chargers football, Aztec basketball being the only team that didn’t suck, movies Nick hadn’t seen, and a good looking new hire at work that Nick hadn’t met yet. Nick’s and Cam’s immediate boss, Arch Waterford, had a penchant for hiring tall, comely blonds, while at the same time writing persuasive, sometimes caustic appellate briefs. Nick liked that. Occasionally, defendants and their appellate attorneys deserved to be tweaked.
Nick enjoyed talking to Cam about everyday things. He was sorry to say good-bye when Cam dropped him off at his apartment.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
On Monday morning, Judge Orsini had a few more instructions for the jury about the process of deliberations. He told them to consider all the evidence and the point of view of the other jurors, who each have unique life experiences. However, ultimately each juror’s vote reflects his or her own belief, based on the evidence.
Nick was pleased that the foreperson was the Hispanic woman with strong family values and active ties to the community.
After the jury was excused, Judge Orsini told the attorneys they could go back to their offices and be on twenty-minute call for any jury questions or verdicts. The defense attorneys agreed their clients didn’t have to be brought over from the holding facility for jury questions or requests for testimony to be read back.
In mid-afternoon, the jury requested the court reporter to read back Felicia’s direct examination—an excellent sign for the prosecution. Nick studied the jury while the court reporter read. They all listened intently. They exhibited very few facial expressions. Nick couldn’t get a feel for what they were thinking. The jury still seemed to be getting along well as a group. Throughout the trial, Nick noticed that the jurors were talking together in the hallway during the recesses. It wasn’t always the same few who talked to each other; the jurors mixed it up socially which was also a very good sign. Nick wanted a jury that got along, respected each other, and hopefully felt the need to reach a consensus, a guilty verdict on each count.
The next morning, Nick was sitting in his office, waiting for the phone to ring. It rang, but it wasn’t the court clerk whom he had expected, but SAC Roger Poon from the Topeka’s Marshal’s office.
“Nick, I have some bad news. Deputy Perkins didn’t make it. She never regained consciousness. The doctors told her family and her fiance that she was brain dead. They decided last night to take her off life support.”
“Those bastards. I wish I had enough evidence to bring murder charges against them. After this case, anything I can do to build a case against those murderers, I will.”
“Thank you Nick. You’re probably one of the few people who can appreciate how badly the Marshal’s Office wants to get whoever is responsible. We have a new lead. Remember when you told me that Agent Schwartz saw a man in a Volvo parked near the destroyed house just before she crashed into a pole. We took your advice and checked the car rentals at nearby airports for a rented Volvo around that time by a man flying in from San Diego or Los Angeles.”
“Great, what did you find?”
“International Car Rentals rented a Volvo to Lorenzo Boleti, an attorney living in Chula Vista, California, the day before the house attack. He brought the car back the morning after the attack. His flight originated from San Diego. He had a California Driver’s License in that name. We checked out his address. It doesn’t exist and the California Department of Motor Vehicles doesn’t have a Lorenzo Boleti on file. It looks like he used forged ID.”
Nick interjected, “Damn it! Nothing concrete.”
“Wait a second. You didn’t let me get to the good part. The car rental office has a surveillance camera. Maybe you can run his picture by your local law enforcement contacts and come up with a hit. I’ll send you an email with the video clip from the car rental.”
“Thanks. I’ll be sitting at my desk, staring at my computer, waiting for the email.”
A minute later, Nick’s computer gave its annoying ding, signaling that a message had arrived. He opened up the clip and was stunned. Javier Esquel-Ramirez, the defense witness, who had provided Luis with the motorcycle camping alibi, stared at him from the computer screen. Nick forwarded Poon’s email to Rona, asking her to isolate the best frontal shot from the video, and to print out several color photos.
Nick got back on the phone with SAC Poon and told him Boleti’s true identity and what he testified to at trial. “Roger, the case went to the jury. It’s next to impossible to reopen a case for additional evidence once a jury starts deliberations. I wish we’d known about this earlier. I would have loved to ask him what he was doing in Topeka, parked a block from the safe house, at the time of the attack.”
“Nick, we just got the surveillance video yesterday.”
“I’m not faulting you. I was just thinking and wishing out loud. No offense intended. We can work it on this end, after the verdicts. Thanks for filling me in.”
“Let me know what you find out and tell me the verdicts when they come in.”
Over the next few days, the jury had a couple of questions about jury instructions. One was about the definition of conspiracy. Instead of risking instructional error by further clarifying certain terms in the instructions, Judge Orsini just reread the pertinent part of the instructions and told them to do the best they could.
Nick was too preoccupied with the case to enjoy himself ove
r the weekend. With such a long case, it was expected that the jury would deliberate at least a week before they returned verdicts. He wouldn’t start worrying about a hung jury until a few more days of deliberation had transpired. Nick firmly believed that all the counts, except those relating to the motorcycle drive- by, were solid.
Nick spent most of the weekend exercising or sipping Jack Daniels while listening to jazz. He thought about calling Ana, but felt it would be better to leave it alone until after the verdicts. He was keeping Cam’s sage advice in mind, Follow your heart, not your dick.
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were more of the same. A couple of jury questions were easily handled, and defense witness Javier’s testimony was read back on Wednesday. Nick didn’t like that at all. It didn’t bode well for his murder conspiracy and aggravated assault counts for the jury to request the testimony of Lopez’ alibi witness.
On Thursday afternoon, the foreperson sent Judge Orsini a note. We have verdicts on all the counts except two. What should we do?
The attorneys and Judge Orsini discussed the note. It was agreed that they’d bring the jury in and discuss the status of the two counts they couldn’t reach a verdict on. The Judge informed the attorneys that after they discussed the two counts, he would receive the verdicts on the remaining counts.
The jury was brought in. They looked tired. Some smiled, a couple frowned, and a few more avoided eye contact. Nick thought, They aren’t looking like the “get-along” jury of past days.
Judge Orsini asked, “What are the two counts you can’t agree on?’
The foreperson responded, “The murder conspiracy count and the assault with a deadly weapon count against Defendant Luis Hernandez-Lopez.”