Deadly Distractions, page 24
The bailiff stood up and announced that the judge was taking the bench. The crowd rose and the room became quiet. The judge walked in, told everyone to be seated, and sat down. He asked the bailiff to bring in the witness and the jury. The bailiff opened the door to the jury room, and the jury filed in and took their seats. Then the bailiff went out in the hall and got the witness. After the judge rearranged some papers on his desk, he nodded at Stan.
"I believe it is your witness," Mr. Turner.
Stan rose and said, "Thank you."
"Miss Cabrillo, how many times have you jogged along Keller Springs Road?"
"Ah. Many times."
"How many? One, five, twenty-five, a hundred and twenty-five times?"
"Gee. I don’t know exactly. Maybe ten times."
"Where else do you jog?" Stan asked.
"I don’t know. Ah. . . . White Rock Lake sometimes."
"You don’t jog every day then?"
"No, once or twice a week if the weather is good."
"What made you jog along Keller Springs Road on the morning of August 18, 1986?"
"I don’t know. It was a nice day. I just felt like it."
"But why not White Rock Lake? What made you decide to do Keller Springs Road?"
"I don’t know."
"Or you don’t want to tell us?"
"Objection!" Silvey said. "He’s badgering the witness."
"I’ll allow it," Judge Justice said.
"I’m telling you I don’t know."
"Isn’t it true you were told to jog along Keller Springs Road on August 18, 1986?"
"No, nobody told me that."
"Isn’t it true you wanted to be hit by Miss Waters?"
"No. Why would I do that?"
"So you could file a civil suit for 1.2 million dollars, perhaps?"
"No, she should pay for hurting me. I didn’t want to get hurt."
"On the date you were hit, did you know Ernesto Garcia or Brian Armstrong?"
"No. I don’t know them."
"You testified they came to your aid after you were hit, right?"
"Yes, they were very nice."
"They were in a vehicle and stopped to help you?"
"Yes."
"What kind of vehicle?"
"Ah. . . . A black Chevy, I think."
"Did you get in that vehicle?"
"No, I stayed in the road until the ambulance came."
"You testified you were bleeding, right?"
"Yes, very much. Blood was everywhere."
"Did it get on your clothes?"
"Objection!" Silvey said. "This is all irrelevant. She testified she was injured. That’s the only issue before the court."
"Your Honor," Stan said. "I’m laying a foundation for one of our defenses that will be presented later in the trial."
"Very well. Objection overruled," Judge Justice said. "Continue."
"Yes, my pant leg had some blood on it."
"You testified earlier that you live with your boyfriend, Raul Marcos, right?"
"Yes."
"Does he have a personal injury suit going too?"
"Objection!" Silvey said. "Irrelevant and prejudicial."
"Sustained. Mr. Turner, be careful," Judge Justice said.
"Did your boyfriend ever work for a company called S & T Packing Company?"
The reporters in the gallery stirred, their curiosity obviously aroused by this new name. Our strategy was to get the press to start looking into S & T Packing, Don Harris, and the People’s Mission. We needed all the help we could get. The judge banged his gavel and told everyone to quiet down.
"I don’t know."
"You don’t know? Weren’t you at Mr. Marcos’ deposition recently?"
"Yes."
"Didn’t he testify he used to work for S & T Packing?"
"Oh, right. I remember now. That was his old job."
"Have you ever met a man named Don Harris? I believe he is a customer of S & T Packing?"
She shook her head. "No, I don’t know him."
"You’re sure?" Stan pressed.
She hesitated. "Well, I don’t remember ever meeting him?"
"But you might have?"
"I suppose. Maybe when Raul worked there."
"Where is Raul now?"
"I don’t know. He went out of town."
"Do you know that he is under subpoena in this case?"
"What’s that?"
"Notice that he is to testify in this case."
"He didn’t get no notice."
"Did you know a process server has been trying to have him served?"
"No. I didn’t know that?"
"You know you’re under oath, Miss Cabrillo. If you lie you can be prosecuted for perjury."
"Objection!" Silvey said. "Counsel is trying to intimidate the witness."
"Mr. Turner, are you going somewhere with this?" Judge Justice asked.
"Yes, Your Honor, I am."
"Very well. Objections overruled," the judge said. "Miss Cabrillo, you realize you are under oath and must tell the truth, right?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
The judge nodded at Stan. "Miss Cabrillo. Didn’t the process server come to your door looking for your boyfriend just yesterday? In fact, hasn’t he been at your door numerous times in the past two weeks trying to serve a subpoena on your boyfriend?"
"I didn’t know why he was there."
"You never looked at the paper or talked to the process server about it?"
"No, I don’t know anything about Raul’s business."
"This isn’t Raul’s business, this is your business. You knew why the process server was there, didn’t you? Your boyfriend was avoiding being served so he wouldn’t have to testify here today, isn’t that right?"
"Objection!" Silvey screamed. "Counsel is badgering the witness, asking compound questions, testifying, and this whole line of questioning is irrelevant."
"Withdraw the question. Pass the witness," Stan said and took his seat.
Silvey took Miss Cabrillo on redirect and made some progress in reestablishing her credibility. Stan attacked her again, and when it was all over I’d say it was a draw, which wasn’t bad since she was the prosecution’s star witness. Silvey called his next witness, who was Ernesto Garcia. He testified as expected that he and his friend were carpooling and came upon the accident in time to see Paula take off. He corroborated Miss Cabrillo's account of the accident completely and sounded quite credible. As Stan took him on cross I was scared. Garcia seemed confident and unshakeable.
"Mr. Garcia. You testified your roommate Brian Armstrong was carpooling on the date of the accident in controversy here today. Is that correct?"
"Yes, we were on our way to work."
"What kind of car were you driving?"
"I drove a pickup truck, actually. A Chevy 10 longbed."
"Now you've denied taking Miss Cabrillo in your truck on the night of morning of the accident, is that right?"
"Right. We never put her in the truck. They took her to the hospital by ambulance."
"Then you wouldn't mind if we inspected your truck for evidence that Miss Cabrillo had ridden in it."
Garcia grinned and said, "I wouldn't mind if I still had it."
"What do you mean?" Stan said.
"I mean it was stolen last week."
"You're kidding? Did you file a police report?"
"Yes, it's all been documented."
"I bet," Stan said shaking his head.
"I'm sorry you lost your friend," Garcia said.
"What friend?"
"The private eye guy?"
"Monty Dozier?" Garcia nodded. "What do you know about that?"
"Nothing, man. I just read about it in the paper."
Stan glared at the witness for a moment and then threw up his hands and said, "I'm through with this witness."
Stan looked at me as he went back to his seat. He was obviously worried. I had never seriously thought I'd get convicted. Somehow I figured Stan would get me off. Now it appeared my fate was sealed. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This couldn't be happening. I looked over at Bart for reassurance but he wasn't smiling either. Oh, God. No!
By the end of the day, both sides had rested and the case went to the jury. At 4:30 p.m. the judge sent the jury home for the night and told them to report back the following morning at ten. Bart took me home after court adjourned, as I was in no condition to drive or be alone. Stan voiced his anger at how Garcia had so conveniently had his truck stolen. He was particularly upset at the reference to Monty Dozier. It was obvious to all of us that Garcia had something to do with Monty's murder, yet we'd never be able to prove it.
Bart and I ate a quiet dinner at home. Neither one of us could stomach the thought of an adverse verdict so we talked about other things. We drank a lot and reminisced about old times. Eventually we went to bed. Bart wanted to make love but I just wanted to hold him. He said he understood so we just snuggled up close until we both finally fell asleep.
39
THE CIA CONNECTION
Fear gripped me when I realized Paula couldn't win. I had never lost a case before and it was hard to accept the fact that it was about to happen. It's not that I believed I was invincible. I knew I would lose plenty of cases during my career, but not this one. I had to somehow pull it out. I racked my brain for ideas. I needed a strategy to save the day, but what would it be?
I was still seated at the defense table after everyone had left. Depression was sweeping over me quickly and I felt like finding the nearest bar and drinking myself into a drunken bliss. But that would have been the easy way out and would only seal Paula's fate. There had to be something productive I could do even if it were too late to avert a conviction. There would be an appeal.
I was sure now that Cabrillo, Garcia, and Armstrong were involved in Monty's death. Garcia had thrown that in my face. They were also somehow connected to S & T Packing, Don Harris, and the 18th Street Gang. I needed to figure out how everything fit together. I got up, packed up my briefcase, and headed for home. On the way, my mind pondered and calculated every imaginable scenario. What business was Don Harris really in? S & T Packing was obviously his cover. I needed to know more about both of them. It was time to call Mo.
Mo was a client I had taken through bankruptcy. When the case was all over, he informed me confidentially that he was with the CIA and had been instructed by the Agency to go to me and file bankruptcy. I often wondered why the Agency had chosen me as their bankruptcy attorney, why Mo had told me about it, and how many other operatives I had unknowingly put through bankruptcy. As interesting as those questions were, they were irrelevant at the moment. The bottom line was I had a resource I hadn't used. When I got home, I put in a call to Mo. His wife answered and said she'd have him call me back. Mo had told me the drill. He couldn't accept my phone calls at home but would call me back within two hours. As I hung up the phone, Rebekah came up behind me and started rubbing my shoulders.
"Tough day, huh?" she said.
I turned around and we embraced. "Oh, God. I'm so worried about Paula being convicted. I've been sick all evening."
"Maybe she won't be. The jury may see through Miss Cabrillo and her good Samaritan friends."
I pulled my head back and looked into her eyes. "I hope so, but that's not what I see in their faces."
Rebekah nodded and pulled me close to her again.
"What jury wouldn't relish the opportunity to put the screws to an attorney," I said holding Rebekah tightly. Tears were beginning to well in my eyes when the telephone rang. I let go of her and grabbed the telephone.
"Hello."
"Stan. It's Mo. You called?"
"Yeah, thanks for returning my call," I said. "How are you?"
"Still kicking. Things have picked up a bit since I saw you last."
"Good. Glad to hear it. . . . Hey, I could use a little help on a case I'm working."
"I bet. I heard you took on the Dusty Thomas case. You seem to like impossible cases."
"Not really. They just seem to fall in my lap."
"I've been reading a lot about you in the paper. Kidnapping? Attempts on your life? Hit and runs? What's the deal?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out. I think there is a lot more to the Dusty Thomas case than people realize."
"It sounds like it. How can I help?"
"There is a local man, Don Harris. He is supposedly a graphic artist but he runs some kind of business out of a company called S & T Packing. They have a warehouse in Wylie. One of the witnesses against my partner, Paula Waters, used to work for S & T. We think Don Harris may have killed Bobby Tuttle and that he's orchestrated the attacks on us to distract us from pursuing him."
"You know, actually everyone at the Agency is supposed to be helping convict Dusty Thomas. The government wants him to fall and fall hard," Mo said.
"Oh. So you can't help me out?"
"I didn't say that. I just wanted you to know what you're up against."
I laughed. "Believe me. I know. That's why I need your help. I'm way over my head in this one."
"What would you like me to do?" Mo asked.
"Check out Don Harris for me and find out what you can about S & T Packing. I need to find out what he's in to."
"No problem. It will take a few days. Anything else?"
I told him about General Moya, Tex Weller, the 1.8 million dollar ransom, and the threat on my life.
"I have this constant fear of getting gunned down while I'm walking into my office. And every time I get in my car I'm afraid to turn on the ignition for fear the car will blow up. I can't sleep at night sometimes. Since General Moya has become a mortal enemy, I need to know as much as possible about him. I know it's a lot to ask, but if you can help me, I would appreciate it."
"The agency probably has a lot of information on General Moya. They monitor guerilla leaders and their activities very closely. It shouldn't be a problem, but it may take a little time getting it together."
"Well, the Don Harris information is the most vital."
"I'll take care of it. It was nice hearing from you."
"Likewise. . . . Thanks a lot, Mo. I really appreciate it."
"Oh, Stan. . . . Before you go. I'm referring a friend of mine. He needs to file bankruptcy quickly and discreetly, okay?"
"Sure, I'll take good care of him."
"I know you will."
The referral caught me by surprise. I assumed it was another agent who'd run up a pocket full of credit cards to the max. I thought it was an ingenious way to stretch the CIA budget or perhaps fund an unauthorized operation. But that wasn't my problem. I just prayed Mo would dig up some useful information. Time was running out for both Paula and Dusty Thomas.
40
DOWN, BUT NOT OUT
By morning I had resigned myself to the fact that I'd be convicted. Bart had spent the night with me and tried hard to keep my spirits up. But I had spent enough time in the courtroom to recognize imminent defeat. Whoever had set me up had done a splendid job and I was sure they were enjoying every minute of the trial. Bart was sure that, even if they convicted me, I wouldn't get jail time. He had talked to Silvey and got the impression that the DA wasn't after blood. He just wanted to put me on the sidelines in the Dusty Thomas case. That got me to thinking that maybe the FBI had something to do with the setup.
Although we tried to avoid the crowd of reporters who had assembled in front of the Dallas County courthouse, several of them managed to spot us heading toward a private entrance on the north side of the building. They blocked the door and struck microphones in our faces.
