Infamy (15 page)

16

Six months later

“O
YEZ, OYEZ, OYEZ, ALL RISE.
All those having business in Supreme Court Part 42, State of New York, New York County, draw near and ye shall be heard. The Honorable Supreme Court Justice Vince Dermondy presiding.”

Chief Administrative Court Clerk Duffy McIntyre stepped back and nodded to Dermondy, who sat down at his dais. “Be seated,” the judge announced. “We're here in the matter of the
State of New York vs. Wellington Constantine.
The defendant is present with counsel, Mr. Michael Arnold. The People are represented by District Attorney Roger Karp and Assistant District Attorney Kenneth Katz. The jury is present, so let us proceed.”

Dermondy looked over at Karp, who had remained standing
and was looking down at his yellow notepad. “You may call your next witness.”

“The People call Dean Mueller.” Karp nodded to Fulton, who stood next to a side door leading from the witness waiting room. The detective opened the door and the witness shuffled into the courtroom dressed in a jail jumpsuit.

Nearly six months
after the conviction of Mueller, and three weeks into the trial of Wellington Constantine, Karp was laying out his case with all the attention to detail and structure of a master builder. So far he'd weathered the storm of media attacks and denunciations by politicians, “community organizers,” movie stars and musicians, and the liberal establishment, who'd rallied to Constantine's accusations that the charges were politically motivated and untrue.

As predicted by Jaxon, there'd been a lot of threats and even one poorly constructed explosive device that had been found by NYPD bomb squad dogs outside the family loft on Crosby Street. Poorly constructed or not, it had been enough to ship the family off to New Mexico, where Marlene reported that the boys were not missing the start of summer in New York City in exchange for playing cowboy on the ranch.

Alone at night in the weeks leading up to and into the trial, he missed his family, but it allowed him to concentrate on the case. The only other change to his normal schedule was a concession to Fulton to allow extra security outside his building and a promise to let Ewin drive him back and forth to the Criminal Courts Building rather than enjoy his customary walk.

After the opening statements, Karp proceeded to lay the foundation for the prosecution of Constantine much the same as he had with the Mueller case. The crime scene was described with the diagram and photographs, and Assistant ME Gail Manning had ascertained the cause and manner of Swindells's death for this second jury. In every murder case, there are two things that the People have to prove: that the deceased is in fact dead, and that the deceased died as a result of the criminal acts of the defendant.

After the “official” witnesses, Sasha Swindells was called to the stand. She testified that her father had been deeply concerned about something that had occurred during his last tour of duty while stationed in Saudi Arabia. He had not told her about any specifics, she said, but she knew it was connected to a text she received asking her to deliver something to Ariadne Stupenagel.

“Did you know Ms. Stupenagel?”

“I met her once, a few minutes before my father was shot,”
Sasha had testified. Up to that point, the young woman had done her best to present herself as a newly commissioned officer in the U.S. Army, but now she broke down and cried the tears of a daughter.

Wisely, Arnold had not tried to cross-examine her. There was nothing to be gained by grilling the daughter of the deceased.

Sasha Swindells's testimony had been followed by Ariadne Stupenagel, whom Karp eased into her testimony by having her describe how she knew Colonel Swindells, as well as her career as an investigative journalist.

“What prompted you to go to Central Park to speak to Colonel Swindells?” Karp had asked after several preliminary questions to set the stage.

“A source told me about a black ops mission in Syria in which a file, code-named MIRAGE, had been seized,” Stupenagel said. “During this mission, several highly placed people connected to the governments of Russia, Syria, and Iran, as well as a leader of the terrorist group ISIS, were killed just prior to U.S. forces arriving.”

“Do you know, or were you told, who killed them?” Karp asked.

“I was told they were killed by a Russian assassin named Nadya Malovo,” Stupenagel said. “The source also informed
me that one other person had been expected at the meeting but wasn't present, a wealthy, well-connected American.”

“Did this source tell you the name of this American?”

“No. The source did not have that information.”

“Did the source know any details about MIRAGE?”

“Only that it involved powerful people with connections to the governments of these other countries and had something to do with black-market oil.”

“In Central Park, did you ask Colonel Swindells about ­MIRAGE?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He told me to forget about it, that he was looking into it but that it was too dangerous for me. He even voiced concerns over his own safety and mine. He said I would be swimming in shark-infested waters.”

“Was there anything else he said to you?”

“Just that I shouldn't contact him again for my own safety.”

“Did you take his advice?”

“Not after he was killed,” she replied, and described how she, Sasha Swindells, and “a government agent named S. P. Jaxon” came to be in possession of a flash drive that the colonel had secreted in a book at the West Point library.

“Do you know what is on the flash drive?”

“No. Apparently it contains encrypted information. But according to Colonel Swindells's Gold Book I mentioned, it is somehow connected to MIRAGE.”

As he built
his case, Karp knew that the jurors would be waiting for the proverbial smoking gun, that aha moment when it would all be made clear. But this wasn't that sort of case, and the moment of truth wasn't going to arrive until the end, when he could put all the pieces together for them. Following Stupenagel's testimony, the next piece was Dean Mueller, who now took the stand and sat with his head down. The first thing Karp did was establish that the witness was the man who pulled the trigger that killed Colonel Swindells.

“Were you convicted of this heinous murder?” Karp asked.

“Yes. I pulled the trigger.”

“Did you know the deceased?”

“Yes. He was my commanding officer.”

“Did you know what you were doing when you shot him in the head?”

“I was there to kill him.”

Karp let it sink in for a moment before backtracking. “Describe your professional relationship to Colonel Swindells.”

“I was assigned to the colonel's staff after we returned from Saudi Arabia.”

“And how did that lead to you murdering him?”

“I was contacted by a man who said he represented a wealthy businessman,” Mueller said. “He told me that his employer wanted something that the colonel had in his possession.”

“Did he say what it was?”

“Yes. A flash drive.”

“Did he give it a name?”

“He said to look for anything connected to the word ‘mirage.' ”

“Were you offered compensation for locating this flash drive?”

“I was told I would receive two million dollars if I returned it.”

Karp raised his eyebrows. “That's a lot of money. Did you have any other information?”

“I knew it was connected to a black ops raid conducted by another group and that upon their return to Saudi Arabia they were intercepted by Company D of the 148th, which was the colonel's brigade.”

“Is there anything in particular you know about Company D?”

“Yeah, a bunch of cowboys. They don't follow the usual chain
of command, and in fact bypassed the colonel who was our commanding officer. They supposedly do a lot of missions no one wants anybody else, especially the public, to know about.”

“Were you able to locate the flash drive?”

“I was able to locate a flash drive that was in a file marked MIRAGE. But it was a fake. Apparently the colonel suspected that someone was after the real flash drive. He couldn't prove I took it, but I was forced to resign with an Other Than Honorable discharge to avoid court-martial.”

“What was the reaction to this fake flash drive from the man who represented the wealthy businessman?”

“He was pissed off,” Mueller said. “He said they weren't paying for nothing. He also said that he'd learned that Colonel Swindells was pursuing charges against me and was going to have me sent to Leavenworth federal penitentiary.”

“Did this other man suggest a way to make up for your mistake as well as prevent prosecution?”

Mueller nodded. “Yes. He said I had to kill Colonel Swindells. But the colonel was being real careful. It was hard to find a time when he wasn't on guard. This other man learned he'd be at the picnic.”

“Was there anybody else with this man when you met?”

“Yeah, there was a guy he said was a New York City detective and was going to be part of the plan.”

“Why did you shoot Colonel Swindells in broad daylight in front of witnesses?”

“It was part of the plan,” Mueller said. “I know it sounds idiotic now. But like I said, it was hard to get at the colonel. But the way it was supposed to work was I'd shoot the colonel and then act crazy. Like I was out of my mind. Then the detective guy would take me into custody and back up my story that I appeared to be out of it. The first guy, the big guy, said they'd get me off on an insanity plea. I'd do a couple years in some cushy hospital, but then I'd have four million, twice the initial offer, waiting for me when I got out.”

“Did something happen after you shot the colonel that convinced you there was something wrong with the plan?”

“Yes. I heard another gunshot. I looked around, and that detective had just taken a shot at me but hit someone else. I shot back and wounded him.”

“What did you do next?”

“I realized it was a setup. So I took off running.”

“If you knew it was a setup, what convinced you to go to trial and enter a not guilty by reason of insanity plea?”

“They got to me with their lawyer, Robert LeJeune. He convinced me that the detective was just trying to stop the guy who tried to tackle me after I shot the colonel. That I had misunderstood what was going on. They waved that money in my face, and I went for it.”

“After you were convicted, why did you agree to testify in this case for the People?”

Mueller shrugged. “I knew that if I went to prison, they'd kill me. I was a loose end, which that big guy was always talking about. I figured I might stand a chance if I testified.”

“Did I offer you any kind of deal to testify?”

“No. You said that if I testified truthfully, you'd note that to the judge when I get sentenced for killing the colonel. You also said that I might be able to serve my time in a minimum security federal penitentiary.”

“Did you subsequently reach an agreement with a federal agency regarding your forthcoming incarceration?”

“Yes. Again if I testify truthfully, I will get a new identity and be housed in administrative segregation so that I don't have to be in with the general population. I wouldn't last a day in there.”

“Do you have any hope of getting out of prison eventually?”

“It's possible if the judge takes into consideration that I'm telling you the truth now. But I'll be an old man.”

Mueller ended his testimony with Karp entering into evidence his photo array lineup identification of Detective Ted Moore as the other shooter in the park, and Shaun Fitzsimmons as the man who represented the wealthy businessman.

“One last question, Mr. Mueller,” Karp said. “Was there another reason you decided to testify today for the People?”

“Yeah,” Mueller said, looking over at Constantine. “These guys with money, they get away with everything. They start the wars so that they can make a profit selling oil or guns. Guys like me, the soldiers, as well as a lot of innocent people, die because of them. Then if they need some dirty work done to clean up their messes, they wave the cash around and get guys like me to do it. But guys like me, we end up in prison or dead while they're having dinner at the White House and golfing with the president. I figured if I was going down for this, so was he.”

Karp followed his glare over to the defense bench, where Arnold smirked and Constantine looked up at the ceiling as if bored. “Thank you, no further questions.”

17

“T
HE
P
EOPLE CALL
S
HAUN
F
ITZSIMMONS.
”

Waiting for Constantine's former bodyguard and henchman to enter the courtroom, Karp went over in his mind how the previous day in court had ended.

As anticipated, the
defense attorney, Mike Arnold, a white-shoe hot-shot aggressive young Harvard Law type who liked to hear himself talk, had hammered away at Mueller during cross-­examination. Arnold was the prototype big-reputation Wall Street litigator whose comfort zone was securities-fraud-type cases. But an overriding ego inexorably led him to the unfamil
iar and, in his warped sense of superiority, the pedestrian state court. Defending the proverbial big guy in a steamy major media case, Arnold craved the elixir of celebrity.

The gist of his attack was that Mueller had killed Swindells because the colonel had run him out of the Army. “And now you're trying to get a sweetheart deal by going along with the fantastical story invented by the prosecution,” Arnold accused.

Listening passively to Arnold's vitriol, Karp knew that even some members of the jury had to be questioning Mueller's account. Taken on its own it would be hard to believe. However, the case didn't rely on the testimony of any one witness or lack of corroboration.

Whatever the jury thought of Mueller and his “fantastical” testimony, they were in rapt attention when Karp next called Ted Moore Sr. to the stand. The former police officer began by testifying that he and his wife had identified Shaun Fitzsimmons in a lineup, which contained five stand-ins, as the man who visited their son.

“What happened immediately following that visit?” Karp asked after he entered into evidence a lineup photograph of Fitzsimmons holding the number 6 against his chest.

“My son . . .” the old man started to say, then broke down and had to pull himself together. “My son killed himself.”

Karp questioned Moore about bank statements he and his wife had located in their son's room after he shot himself. “Would you tell the jury what bank these statements were issued by?”

“Grand Cayman National Bank.”

“And what is the balance on the last statement issued, I believe, two weeks before your son died?”

“It says $579,283.”

“What does that say to you?”

“That my son was on the take,” said Moore, his voice grim. “Thirty-five years on the force, I know a dirty cop when I see something like this.”

“Was your son a dirty cop?”

Moore hung his head and his shoulders shook. But when he looked up, his face was hard in spite of the tears on his cheeks. “Yes, he was a dirty cop.”

As the old man left the witness stand, Karp reflected on the orchestration of the People's case. He sometimes saw himself as moving the pieces of his cases around like playing chess, a game he'd learned from his mother. She'd taught him that it wasn't all about a frontal attack and a war of attrition, trading pieces with an opponent. “With a true grandmaster,” she said, “you can't see the strategy until it's too late and you're in checkmate.”

Karp approached prosecuting
criminals the same way and was prepared to move another piece as the hulking presence of Fitzsimmons entered the courtroom. Just getting Constantine's bodyguard on the theoretical game board had required moving a lot of pieces to put him into check.

Pretending to be irritated but secretly pleased, he'd gone along with motions by Fitzsimmons's attorney to delay the trials for murdering Clare Dune and Jim Hughes. Then after Mueller's conviction, he asked to meet with Fitzsimmons and his attorney, Stephanie Clagel.

“Maybe you heard,” Karp said to Fitzsimmons when they were seated with Fulton and a stenographer present but waiting for the go-ahead to record, “that Mueller's talking and he's pointing the finger at you as the guy who set up the murder of Colonel Michael Swindells. And I want to talk to you about that.”

Fitzsimmons gave him a bored look. “Snitches end up in ditches,” he said. “You just don't get ‘fuck off,' do you, Karp? You think a different month is going to change anything?”

“Mr. Karp, you're wasting our time,” Clagel said.

“Well, then, let me get to the point,” Karp said. “You've also
been identified as having visited Detective Ted Moore shortly before he committed suicide.”

“Don't know the man,” Fitzsimmons said. “Wasn't my finger on the trigger.”

“How'd you know he pulled a trigger?” Karp asked.

“Mr. Fitzsimmons, I'd advise you not answer any more of the DA's questions,” Clagel cautioned.

Fitzsimmons shrugged. “It's boring in jail. I want to hear what this clown has to say. Maybe his bullshit will be entertaining.”

“Well, that identification connects you to Moore,” Karp said. “Mueller also picked you and Moore out of lineups as the men who put him up to murdering Swindells.”

“I must have a doppelgänger out there,” Fitzsimmons said with a smirk. “Somebody who looks like me.”

“Go ahead and play stupid,” Karp said. “But now the feds are interested. You do know that conspiring to murder an active-duty Army officer during the performance of his duty, while acting in concert with agents of foreign governments, is a federal crime. There's one other person involved in this, a Russian, and she can put you in Istanbul.”

“Big deal,” Fitzsimmons said. “I'll beat these two you have lined up against me. And I'll beat that one, too.”

“Maybe you will, and maybe you won't,” Karp said. “And
maybe the thought of hard time in a New York prison doesn't faze you. But the federal murder beef is a death penalty case, and I have reason to believe they'll be trying to send you to the federal prison in Terre Haute, Indiana, where they'll strap you to a gurney and put you down like the junkyard dog you are.”

Fitzsimmons's eyes narrowed as his lawyer spoke up. “I think we've heard enough of your threats, Karp. We'll be leaving—”

“Shut up, you worthless twat,” Fitzsimmons said. He leaned forward. “What do I get if I testify?”

Karp smiled. “I believe I can talk the feds into suspending their case against you. You plead guilty to the murder of Clare Dune, and I suspend the cases against you for Hughes and Swindells. That's
if
you testify truthfully. Lie, and the feds and I will be fighting over your bones like a pack of wolves. On the other hand, testify truthfully, and you stand a slight chance of getting out of prison as an old man instead of in a wooden box.”

With that image
in mind, Fitzsimmons had caved and told his side of the story as the stenographer took it down. Now, seated on the witness stand, he glared about as he took in the packed gallery and men sitting at the defense and prosecution tables. His lip curled and he shook his head when he looked
at Constantine, who pretended to stifle a yawn and looked away.

Two hours later, Fitzsimmons had laid it all out for the jury. Admitting to the murder of Clare Dune, he said he'd been ordered to kill her because “she'd been having an affair with her kid's basketball coach, Richie Bryers. And Mr. Constantine wanted her dead.” Only later, when Bryers called pretending to blackmail Constantine, did they learn that Dune had taken a photograph of one of his boss's journals that discussed the MIRAGE file.

“He was writing in those damn things all the time,” Fitzsimmons testified. “I told him it would come back to haunt him, but he wouldn't listen. The arrogant son of a bitch thought he was untouchable.”

Karp also questioned Fitzsimmons about telephone conversations Constantine had on the day of Swindells's murder in which he discussed both Mueller and, in a separate conversation, “the MIRAGE plan with someone in the White House.”

Fitzsimmons said he didn't know the details of MIRAGE, “except it has something to do with black-market oil and Mr. Constantine's facilities in Iraq.” He described his meeting with a Russian woman named Ajmaani in Istanbul to arrange the subsequent meeting with the Russians, Syrians, Iranians, and ISIS.

“Did the defendant end up attending that meeting?” Karp asked.

“No,” Fitzsimmons said. “He was warned that there might be trouble and decided not to go.”

Fitzsimmons detailed how he'd been instructed by Constantine to get the MIRAGE file back after it was seized in the Syrian raid. “We learned that Swindells was trying to get the file deciphered. That's when Constantine decided that the colonel had to go. He figured if Swindells was out of the picture, the problem would go away and he could move forward with his plan.”

“What was supposed to happen to Dean Mueller after he shot Swindells?” Karp asked.

“Moore was supposed to shoot him,” Fitzsimmons said. “Mueller would be just another crazy vet with a bone to pick with his commanding officer, and Moore would be the hero. But he fucked up. The whole thing was a fucked-up idea from the get-go, but you couldn't say that to Mr. Constantine. He had it all figured out. He gets off thinking he's smarter than everybody else.”

After Karp finished questioning Fitzsimmons, there were still blank spaces in the mosaic. He'd carefully avoided questioning him about Constantine's connections with the administration in Washington. There was a piece on the chessboard he wanted
even more than Constantine, but it required laying a trap for his opponents to fall into.

Again during cross-examination, Arnold had to attempt to discredit Fitzsimmons as “an admitted murderer” who was trying to pass the blame onto Karp's political enemy in exchange for leniency. “You and Mueller and Karp made up this whole implausible plot, didn't you,” he demanded.

“Nope,” Fitzsimmons said. “If I was going to make up something, it would have been airtight. But I wasn't in charge.” He pointed at Constantine. “That arrogant son of a bitch was, and now we're all going down.”

With nothing else to go on, Arnold continued trying to say the same thing in different ways until Fitzsimmons said,
“What is it about ‘fuck off' you don't get, Arnold?”

Karp had to suppress a smile when Arnold complained, but Judge Dermondy said, “In spite of the witness's crude remark, I have to agree that you've asked your question and had it answered, Mr. Arnold. Let's move on.”

“No further questions,” he said in disgust.

As Fitzsimmons left the courtroom with one last glare at Constantine, Dermondy looked at Karp. “Do you have another witness?”

“One more, Your Honor. The People call Richie Bryers.”