“Okay, Ms. Connor,” Jack said, standing up. “The grand jury is waiting for us.”
Madeleine looked surprised. “Don’t you want to hear what I have to say first?”
Anna looked at Jack, wondering whether to take Madeleine up on her offer. If a witness was willing, a prosecutor interviewed her before locking in her testimony in the grand jury. That gave the witness a chance to hear the questions in the comforting presence of her attorney, rather than having to answer them for the first time in the grand jury, alone. And such a preview helped the prosecutor fashion the most effective questions, to make efficient use of limited grand jury time. More important, it revealed any rough patches in the testimony. A witness with something to hide was often not truthful in the first session with law enforcement. If the witness said something that the prosecutor suspected wasn’t true, the prosecutor could do more investigation before asking the witness to testify about it under oath. The last thing the prosecutor wanted was to lock in a lie. Talking to Madeleine now would be helpful.
But Anna shook her head. “The immunity order doesn’t cover your voluntary statements to us. It only immunizes your compelled grand jury testimony.” Anything Madeleine said outside the grand jury was fair game, should the government choose to prosecute her.
Thomasson nodded, agreeing that a witness conference was not the way to go in this case.
Jack and Anna walked into the grand jury, leaving the three other
women in the witness room. Only prosecutors and witnesses went into the grand jury—there was no judge or defense counsel. Jack would call Madeleine in momentarily but first had to introduce the case. The jurors looked up from their newspapers, books, and iPads. Anna hadn’t been in this grand jury before; she didn’t know these jurors. She smiled at them and got a few smiles in return.
The jurors were regular citizens who had been sent a letter saying it was time to do their civic duty. There was a rule saying D.C. residents couldn’t be obligated to serve on a jury more often than every two years, but most residents got their jury summons every two years on the dot. There was a lot of crime and not enough citizens to go around. Service on a grand jury was more onerous than a trial jury—its tenure lasted for several months.
Anna looked around, noting the differences between this federal grand jury room and the ones in Superior Court. This room was much nicer, the facilities newer, gleaming with a white-on-white color scheme. The jurors sat at ascending rows of long white Formica tables. The space was similar to a college seminar room except the focal point was not a blackboard but a long white table at the front. It was set up with three chairs. Jack gestured for Anna to sit in the middle seat. Anna took her seat while Jack began his brief opening statement. The court reporter silently depressed the keys on his stenographic machine as Jack spoke.
“Good morning. Today we have the case of
In Re: Caroline McBride.
” He read out the case number. “The decedent was a twenty-one-year-old Georgetown student who was pushed from the balcony of the Capitol two nights ago.”
A collective gasp went up. They’d all heard of the case in the papers. Jack gave them some of the basic facts about the investigation, then called Madeleine into the room. As she walked in, the jurors made murmuring sounds. She was striking in her white suit. Jack gestured for her to sit in the chair next to Anna. It was probably the most scuffed and dirty thing in the white room, a seat that had been sat in by every conceivable witness: cops, housewives, convicted killers, drug dealers, homeless addicts. Madeleine looked at it with distaste, then sat, gingerly smoothing her white skirt under her thighs
before pressing on the dirty white plastic. She minimized her contact with the chair with a pencil-straight spine that didn’t touch the seat back.
Jack sat on the other side of Anna. It was an awkward setup. Anna was used to the Superior Court grand jury room, in which the prosecutor stood far away from the witness while conducting questioning. The side-by-side arrangement in this federal court grand jury room gave the impression that they were all collegial participants in a Q&A panel.
The jury foreman stood up and asked Madeleine to raise her right hand. “Do you swear or affirm to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
“Good morning, ma’am,” Jack said. He took his reading glasses out of his suit pocket and slid them on.
“Good morning.” Madeleine smiled calmly. She was either incredibly confident or a great actress. Probably a bit of each, Anna thought—both skills would be helpful in her career.
Jack led her through the basic biographical information and told her about her rights for testifying in the grand jury. Then he said, “You’re here testifying under court order, which means that you do
not
have a right to remain silent, but nothing you say will be used against you.” The jurors leaned forward. They had heard this before and understood that it meant the testimony would be good. “Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“You must tell the truth. The grand jury can bring perjury charges against anyone who lies in the grand jury. Your immunity does not cover lying here. Do you understand that?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel about testifying here today?”
“I’m not happy to be here. I had hoped that my business would never become the business of the authorities. I don’t want to get anyone into trouble. But I also want to protect my girls, and I want to help you find who did this.”
“What is Discretion?”
“Discretion is my company. It’s an escort service.”
“What do you mean by ‘escort service’?”
“I match lovely young women with well-established gentlemen who are looking for companionship.”
“How much do you charge for this companionship?”
“It depends on the girls. Rates start at a thousand dollars for a two-hour-minimum session. For girls who are in particular demand, the rates can go up to five thousand a session.”
“To cut to the chase—your customers are paying to have sex with your escorts, right?”
“No. The man is paying for her time and company. If, in the course of their time together, she chooses to have sex with him, that is between consenting adults.”
“Ma’am.” Jack looked at her sternly over his reading glasses. “These men aren’t paying a thousand dollars just to have someone to talk to over dinner. They expect the women will have sex with them, right?”
“In my experience, most men expect that the woman they take to dinner will have sex with them. But I don’t dispute your point.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
“And your escorts also expect to have sex with these men, correct?”
“It’s always the girl’s choice whether to become intimate or not. But my girls are professionals. They are generally open-minded, and they know that their job is to please their customer. And they’re the best in the city.”
“Who are your typical clients?”
“My motto is ‘For the man who can afford anything but publicity.’ That tends to include CEOs, politicians, and diplomats. My clients have the means and the incentives to pay a premium to be sure that their hobby is kept secret.”
“Where do these appointments take place?”
“Wherever the man prefers. Most single men in the city prefer their homes. Married men and out-of-towners prefer hotels. Some men like to take a girl with them on a trip. The fee for trips ranges
from five thousand to ten thousand per day. We’ve had girls flown to the Caribbean, Europe, L.A. Travel expenses are covered by the client, of course. There’s also a monthly option, where a girl is exclusively yours for thirty days. She’ll drop anything to be with you at a moment’s notice. It’s used mostly by Saudi princes.”
“How long have you operated Discretion?”
“About twelve years.”
“How did you get into the business?”
“I worked as an escort myself. But escorting is a young woman’s job. The business side suits me better now.”
“Where is your office?”
“I do everything from my home. Meet the girls, give etiquette lessons, receive the money, keep the books, and so on.”
She seemed proud. Anna imagined the Internet pop-up advertisement:
Local woman makes millions working from home! You can, too!
“How many escorts do you employ?” Jack asked.
“Thirty to thirty-five, at any given time.”
“Do your escorts all know each other?”
“No. I don’t throw an annual Christmas party. I’m the only one who knows all the girls. Of course, some girls refer their friends to me, and sometimes they work together. But the fewer girls who know each other, the less gossip there can be about the clients.” She smiled. “And it’s harder for the girls to get together and form their own competing agency.”
“How do you get your clients?”
“I used to advertise, first in newspapers and then online. Now I only take referrals from existing clients. It’s safer that way. No unexpected law enforcement.” She sighed ruefully.
“Are you familiar with an individual named Brian Stringer?”
“I don’t want to get him in trouble.”
“It’s too late for that. And there’s no privilege for incriminating your friends. You can confer with your lawyer, if you’d like.”
Madeleine shook her head. “No, I believe you.” She then explained how Brian had been a client when she was an escort, and now served as her tester. To Anna’s relief, Madeleine corroborated much of what the concierge had already told them. When witnesses
corroborated each other, it was like mortar to the bricks of an investigation.
“How did you set up appointments?” Jack asked.
Madeleine said that she used the same paper system from when she started the business. She didn’t trust computers or her own ability to keep the information away from hackers. So she kept track of the appointments and schedules of all the escorts in binders. Men who wanted a date called her—sometimes weeks in advance but often a few hours before they wanted an appointment. She called the women and told them where to go. The escorts took only cash, which helped keep them off the authorities’ radar screen. After a date, the woman would bring the cash to Madeleine’s home. The escort kept 50 percent plus any tip; Madeleine kept the rest.
Jack pushed a button in the wall, and a screen descended from the ceiling. He placed Caroline McBride’s DMV photograph on an Elmo projector, and it was beamed onto the screen. “I’d like to show you a document labeled Grand Jury Exhibit Number One. Do you recognize the woman in this photograph?”
“Yes.” Madeleine’s face lost all hint of a smile, and her voice grew soft. “Sasha. Her real name was Caroline McBride. She was my top escort. A beautiful girl, smart, well mannered, warm. No hang-ups. Perfect.”
“When did she start working for you?”
“About three years ago.”
“How did you come to hire her?”
“She was referred by one of my other escorts, a young woman named Nicole Palowski. They were roommates.”
Jack had her explain TrickAdviser and Caroline’s climb through the online ratings. Then he turned to the day of her death. “Did Ms. McBride have an appointment the night she died?”
Madeleine paused, seeming to steel herself. Then she gave the answer she’d come to give. “Yes. Congressman Emmett Lionel called me early that afternoon to set up an appointment with her.”
A female juror exclaimed, “Lord have mercy!” Others murmured and shifted.
Jack waited for the room to settle down. “How do you know it was Congressman Lionel who set up the appointment?”
“He was a regular client. He’s called me many times, enough that I recognize his voice. I also recognized the phone he was calling from.”
“What was that number?”
“On my caller ID, it shows up as ‘U.S. House of Representatives.’”
“Is there any actual number that comes up?”
“No. Nor the name of the representative. I think the politicians know that. It makes them perhaps a bit less cautious about calling from their offices.”
“Had Congressman Lionel had appointments with Ms. McBride before?”
“Yes. He liked variety, but Sasha was special. The Congressman had four previous dates with her. Twice at a hotel and twice at his office in the Rayburn Building. This time he wanted to meet her in his hideaway at the Capitol. That made me nervous—but for some men, the risk
is
the turn-on. I called Sasha that afternoon and told her where and when to go. That was the last time I spoke to her.”
“Have you had any further conversations with the Congressman since then?”
“No.”
“Had you ever known the Congressman to be violent with any of your escorts?”
“He had quite a temper, but nothing like this.”
“What do you mean by a temper?”
“He could get belligerent if he thought a service wasn’t up to snuff. He yelled at a few of the girls. They brushed it off as harmless posturing, but now I see that behavior in a different light.”
“The subpoena requires you to bring any documents related to the night in question, or your business in general. Did you bring these documents?”
“I did.” Madeleine pulled a single sheet of paper from her Louis Vuitton bag. “This is the booking sheet. You can see the time the Congressman called and what he asked for.”
Jack marked the paper with a sticker as Grand Jury Exhibit #2. The sheet had one line across the middle of the page:
E. Lionel, Sasha, U.S. Capitol Senate Carriage Entrance, 8 p.m.
The remainder was blank. Jack put the page on the Elmo.
Anna motioned to Jack. “May I ask a question?” she said. He was the lead lawyer, but she could jump in. He nodded. Anna turned to Madeleine. “Is this all that was written on the page originally?”
“No, I covered over the other entries when I copied this. You don’t need those.”
“The subpoena requires you to produce the entire document, not a redacted page,” Anna said. “What other paperwork do you keep?”
“I keep a client information sheet for every client, listing his information and preferences, the escorts he’s used and the dates he used them, and other details. It helps me match my clients with the experience they’re looking for. I also keep a sheet like that for each of my girls. And then I have a master calendar for all the dates.”