by J J Miller
“Is there anything else you can tell us about why this was an inside job?”
“Well, the fact is that Nate and Bo were shot by Chip—”
“Objection,” I said, getting to my field. “Speculation.”
“Sustained,” said Judge Birch. “We are here to ascertain whether or not that is true, Mr. Rollins.”
Rollins sighed and sought, with evident frustration, to rephrase his response. “They were shot with Chip’s gun. But I believe there was more than one person involved in this robbery.”
“You believe he had help?” asked Winter.
“Of course, he did. But no one knows who they are—not the cops, not me. I mean, for all I know some of the culprits are still working for me, the same men who I greet in the morning every day. That said, the cops tell me all their alibis check out.”
“Do you have any idea what became of the stolen money and cannabis?”
“No. At least until five-hundred grand turned up in Chip Bowman’s account,” Rollins fumed.
“Objection,” I called. “The witness is once again speculating.”
“Sustained,” said Judge Birch before ordering the court reporter to strike Rollins’ last comment from the record.
Winter raised his palms out in front of his waist and smiled, displaying his contentment of where things were at.
“On that note, Your Honor, I have no more questions for Mr. Rollins.”
As Winter spoke those words, my phone buzzed. I picked it up to see a text from Jack.
“Check your email. NOW. You can thank me later.”
I only got to read subject of Jack’s email—“Reed and Hendricks”—when I heard Judge Birch’s voice.
“Your witness, Mr. Madison…
“Counselor. Would you care to cross-examine the witness?”
I looked up and got to my feet. “My apologies, Your Honor. Some important information has come to hand. Actually, it’s urgent. I’d like to request a short recess to digest this information.”
Judge Birch shut his eyelids slightly and studied me. I got the point: he only just believed I was genuine. “You’ve got fifteen minutes, Counselor.”
Chapter 37
We resumed fifteen minutes later, and Judge Birch once more invited me to cross-examine the witness before adding dryly “assuming you’re ready.”
“Mr. Rollins,” I began. “I understand that it has been tough going at HardShell since this terrible event.”
“Yes, it has been but spare me your phony sympathy, Mr. Madison.”
“I’m not here to indulge you in sympathy, Mr. Rollins. I’m merely trying to establish the fact that since your two employees were killed and your clients’ cash and cannabis has disappeared without a trace, it must be hard to convince clients that what you offer is a safe and secure service.”
“It was and remains safe and secure. But nothing can be one-hundred percent bulletproof to acts of treachery.”
“I understand. Now, as you’ve already told the court, you hire a particular breed of man. Isn’t that right, Mr Rollins?”
“No woman has ever applied for any position in my firm.”
“Okay. I mean, HardShell is staffed exclusively by vets, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“They are warriors in your eyes, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Your warriors.”
“It’s not a private army, Mr Madison. It’s a security company that operates in a high-risk environment.”
“No, it’s not a private army but the two victims of this crime served under you at Fortis, a private security firm overseas, didn’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Objection,” called Winter. “Relevance.”
“Where’s this going, Mr. Madison?” asked Judge Birch.
“Your Honor, Mr. Winter opened the door on the character and caliber of men that Mr. Rollins employs, and it’s important for the jury to understand the nature of the workplace Mr. Rollins presides over.”
“I’ll allow,” said Birch. “Continue, Counselor.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Mr. Rollins, you said that Nate Reed and Bo Hendricks were two of your best men, right?”
“Yes.”
I held a piece of paper in my hand. It was a bunch of printouts of newspaper articles attached to Jack’s email.
“There have been numerous news stories about Fortis, the company you worked for, being the subject of complaints in regard to the conduct of its staff in Iraq. Is that right?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Could you please answer the question?”
“There were things written about Fortis. But it was all just a bunch of fake news.”
I waved the papers.
“These so-called fake news stories say that Nathaniel Reed and Bo Hendricks were whisked out of Iraq under a cloud of outrage about their conduct.”
“That’s not true.”
“Which part? Being kicked out or them being guilty of grave misconduct?”
Rollins face flushed with anger. “I’m not going to sit here and sully the memory of two fine men.”
“Were they sent home?”
“No. They were reassigned. That’s all. Relocated to Virginia.”
“So it had nothing to do with them being accused of executing Iraqi civilians and planting weapons on the bodies so as to cast them as insurgents?”
This was not mentioned in the news articles I held. Jack had sifted through thousands of Wikileaks files leaked from military operations in Iraq. Several references were made to incidents involving Fortis personnel. But Jack dug deeper and through other channels not yet known to me, he’d managed to get hold of two internal Fortis incident reports that implicated Reed and Hendricks in the murder of Iraqi civilians.
Rollins’ eyes glared at me but he sat himself back, assuming a more relaxed position for our confrontation. “The enemies over there lie, Mr. Madison. They’ll say anything, do anything, to try and weaken us. What you just said is wrong. There were false accusations, and none was ever proven.”
“These men were under your direct command in Iraq when those alleged incidents took place, were they not?”
“Yes.”
“And as soon as you set up HardShell back home in the States they were the first two men you hired.”
“I hired a bunch of men to get the ball rolling and they were part of that first batch.”
“Chip Bowman wasn’t, though, was he?”
Rollins remained silent, his arms now folded and his eyebrows raised. After a few moments’ silence he said, “Oh, was that a question you actually want me to answer?” He scoffed.
I waited.
“Bowman was hired at a later date,” he said finally.
“Did he ever come to you to air his concerns about company business?”
“No.”
“But he told you he suspected some HardShell personnel were handling illegally-grown cannabis and illicit cash, did he not?”
“Oh that. Yes, I remember. And I thanked him for his concern, and encouraged him to tell me if he saw anything untoward.”
“But he was not the only person who was concerned HardShell was operating in the black market, was he?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Mr. Rollins, isn’t it true that the silent co-founder of HardShell, Mr. Henry Tuck, shared the same concerns that the company was involved in illegal activity.”
Rollins shook his head.
“No. He never said anything of the sort.”
“Your Honor, I’d like to enter this email exchange between Mr. Rollins and Mr. Tuck.”
“That was a misunderstanding on Mr. Tuck’s part,” said Rollins, as I carried copies to Winter and Judge Birch. “There was one employee who was skimming off some cannabis, and I got rid of him.”
“But in that email exchange you’re holding, Mr. Tuck told you he wanted to pull his money out of your company because he suspe
cted something nefarious was going on. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Rollins said wearily. “But Henry had no idea what was going on. And his suspicion was non-specific, and unfounded. That’s why I dismissed it. I think Henry just wanted his money so he could go lie on a beach with his girlfriend.”
“Right. One last question, Mr. Rollins. Was anything stolen from that van that we don’t know about?”
“What? No.”
“So, there was no illegal cargo being carried in that van?”
“No.”
“So why did the Iron Raiders show up so quickly at the crime scene?”
“You’d have to ask them that.”
“How much of the stolen assets was theirs?”
“Ten pounds of legal cannabis.”
“But they know that they’ll be compensated for that, don’t they? I mean, once your insurance pays out.”
“Yes, all our clients know that insurance will cover the loss of any assets they have entrusted us with.”
“And yet they turned up right away. When they got to the scene, as at the court has heard, they were very angry. If there was no contraband in that van, why would they be so furious?”
“I have no idea.”
“Were they concerned that something else of theirs had gone missing? Something illegal? Something not covered by your insurance?”
Rollins looked at me fit to kill. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said dryly.
“Traces of meth were found on the defendant’s hands, Mr. Rollins. How do you explain that?”
“I can’t obviously. That’s for Chip Bowman to answer.”
“Are any of your vans fitted with secret compartments to stash contraband?”
“That’s rubbish,” he said, turning to the jury with a smile before addressing me again. “No, is my answer.”
“So your business was totally above board?”
“One hundred percent.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rollins. Just one more thing. You own a property up in Toro Canyon, do you not?”
“Yes.”
“And wasn’t it raided by the DEA on the suspicion that there was a meth lab on the premises?”
Rollins dropped his chin into his collar. He paused to figure out how to phrase his answer. “That’s true. That was a hoax tip-off from a rival company that is desperate to take me down. But the DEA found nothing.”
“Are you saying that suspicion doesn’t matter a damn, right?”
“Right.”
“What matters is irrefutable proof?”
“Yes.”
“I see. Nothing further.”
Chapter 38
Rollins was Winter’s last witness, so Judge Birch called time for the day and said the defense could call its first witness in the morning.
I’d decided to open with Chip. This was highly unusual for me, or any other defense lawyer. It’s pretty much a golden rule for us to not let the client anywhere near the stand. To do so risks them saying or doing something that will sink their own case. The jurors might not like the sound of their voice, they might find them untrustworthy, too emotional or not emotional enough. Then there was the likelihood that the prosecutor would unpick them with a sharp cross-examination, or coax them into a damning outburst that couldn’t be undone. It’s a potential minefield best avoided.
Despite the risk of exposing Chip to Winter’s interrogation, I felt the jury needed to hear Chip speak. If the jury liked him, if they believed him, his testimony might just win us the case.
“Mr. Bowman. How did you come to work at HardShell?”
“Well, I wasn’t happy where I was. I was working at a jewelry store. The pay was okay but it was a little slow. Then I got tapped to apply for a vacancy at HardShell. I liked the sound of the job and I jumped at it.”
“Did someone recommend you for the job?”
“Yes. Scooter. Well, his real name’s Scott Slovak but everyone calls him Scooter. We worked together in Iraq a few years back.”
“Were you happy at HardShell?”
“Very much so. The money was great, it was interesting, and it was kind of exciting. You know, we were couriering millions of dollars’ worth of assets around the state. There was always the very real prospect of facing a threat of some kind.”
“You mean like being robbed?”
“That’s right. At first, it was just something you told yourself could happen. Then it started happening for real.”
“What started happening for real?”
“Teams were getting hit. Dispensaries were getting robbed. Pretty soon it felt like we were like modern-day stagecoaches. It felt like it would be only a matter of time before we were hit by outlaws.”
“Outlaws,” I repeated. “It’s interesting you say that because you actually had to deal with people that society deems to be outlaws, didn’t you?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Could you please explain that part of your job for the court?”
“Well, I was given what you might call a client-liaison role. I would deal directly with our clients on the day-to-day deliveries. You know, dispensary owners who ordered shipments of recreational cannabis, labs that placed orders for medical cannabis, growers who wanted us to transport their crop or their cash. There are all types of people growing cannabis legally up in Humboldt County. And some of those people are outlaw motorcycle gangs.”
“You dealt directly with bikers?”
“Yes. Like any client, I ensured they got their tracking numbers for their shipments, that they knew how to work the app. And I would also explain to them the financial services we offered.”
“The app. We heard from Mr. Rollins that there is a thirty-minute delay from real time. Is this why the bikers got to the crime scene so quickly?”
“Yes. They would have noticed there was some kind of delay and came to check for themselves that everything was okay, but it wasn’t.”
“Chip, can you tell me what you remember about that night?”
“Not a lot. I remember getting to the warehouse, and parking the van. I remember getting out of the van, and that’s pretty much it. The next thing I knew I was waking up to a paramedic over me and learning I’d been shot.”
“Why can’t you remember?”
Chip shook his head. “I think it’s because of the knock I got on the back of my head.”
“The subdural hematoma.”
“Yes.”
“You have no idea how you got that injury?”
“No.”
I took a moment to survey the jury. All eyes were on Chip. I sensed that they were taking him for his word. At least, they seemed open, receptive to him. At that moment I felt I’d made the right call to put Chip on the stand. But it was early days.
“Chip, were Nate and Bo your friends?”
“I wouldn’t say we were friends. I didn’t hang out with them outside of work. We got on okay, though. Worked together well enough.”
“Did you ever have reason to think they were doing anything unusual at work?”
“Well, there was a real cowboy streak in both of them. They were super tight—best buddies through and through. They did everything together, even in their down time. They were pretty much inseparable. But I noticed a couple of things going on that didn’t seem right.”
“What kind of things?”
“Well, on a couple of runs we did up to Humboldt, I suspected they’d loaded something onto the van when I was not there. But I checked the van and went through all the items we’d loaded and everything was spot on. Nothing missing and nothing extra.”
“Did you speak to anyone about it?”
“Yes. I spoke to Scooter about it.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I should tell Quinn.”
“And did you?”
“Yes.”
“What was Quinn’s response?”
“He told me he wouldn’t tolerate any kind of underhand activity but he s
aid that he knew those guys, he trusted them, and that I must be mistaken. He told me to let him know if I suspected anything else.”
“Did Bo or Nate do or say anything to make you believe they were involved in illegal activity?”
“Yes. They said a couple of things that were pretty out there.”
“Like what?”
“One night we were having a few beers after work and another dispensary had been hit a few days before. We were talking about it and I said the cops thought the robbery was done by well-trained professionals. Both Nate and Bo started laughing. It was like they knew something. I asked what their game was, and they just laughed. They said, ‘You know, these dispensaries have such pathetic security. They’re useless. Maybe we can help them with that.’ And then they just laughed.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
Chapter 39
The smug half-grin on Winter’s face told me he was relishing the prospect of burying Chip with his cross-examination. I’d thrown everything at Chip in our rehearsals and he’d handled himself well. Court was a different ballgame, though. No matter how much you prepare, no matter how well you think you know your opposition, there was bound to be a few surprises. And on that front, Winter didn’t disappoint.
“Mr. Bowman, it seems you were somewhat at odds with your colleagues Bo Hendrick and Nathaniel Reed. Is that a fair assessment?”
“As I said before, we were friends but not super close. We got along okay.”
“There’s no harm in admitting that you didn’t like them, Mr. Bowman.”
Winter was using seemingly innocuous candor to create intimacy between himself and Chip. A closeness that he hoped to exploit. Wisely, Chip offered nothing in response, keeping a distance in the exchange.
“But from what you have told the court today, it’s clear they did not like you. Am I right?”
“I can’t say.”
“After you went to the boss to air your suspicions about their behavior, did they treat you differently?”
“No.”