J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 03 - No Time To Hide (21 page)

CH
APTER SIXTY TWO

The gavel tapped three times. The people stood, and Michael watched as Judge Husk was slowly led up to the bench for the second day of trial and the first day of testimony. Judge Husk’s law clerk lowered the old man into his gigantic chair, careful not to break him. Then the judge was given a pen and a clean, new notepad.

Judge Husk took a moment before raising his hand. With a small gesture, the people in the courtroom sat back down. Court was called to order. 

“We’re here in the case of the United States versus Michael John Collins.” Judge Husk looked at Michael, and Michael saw, for the first time, a weight in the judge’s eyes. There was a touch of sadness, pity. How many defendants had Judge Husk sent to prison over the past forty years? Michael would just be another notch in his belt. Interesting for the moment, and forgotten the second the trial was over.

The attorneys noted their appearances for the record, and then Judge Husk asked if there were any preliminary matters. Both Brenda Gadd and Quentin Robinson told the court that they had none.

Judge Husk nodded.

“Very well. We’ll bring out the jury and the government may call their first witness in a few moments.”

Gadd rose out of her seat.

“Thank you, Your Honor. We’ll be calling Agent Frank Vatch.”

“And how long do you expect him to testify?”

“He’s the lead investigator. Most of our evidence will come in through Agent Vatch.”

Judge Husk took a deep breath. His face lowered. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Two days, Your Honor,” Gadd said. “At least two days.”

Judge Husk rolled his eyes. “That’s a long time.”

“It’s a complex case, Your Honor.”

The sadness in Judge Husk’s eyes disappeared. It was replaced with a spark. The fighter was back. Judge Husk leaned forward in his large chair. He peered down at Brenda Gadd.

“That’s not what you told the jury in your opening statement yesterday.”

###

Jurors were always excited on the first day of testimony. As they were led into the courtroom, Michael saw that they were doing their best to look solemn and thoughtful. Underneath, however, adrenaline pumped.

As much as people complained about jury duty and how much they didn’t want to do it, deep down,
nearly everybody wanted to be on a jury. It was the ultimate reality television show. A juror had the power to decide another person’s fate. Compared to a boring office job or carting kids to and from soccer practice, it was real power.

His
jury was comprised of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Michael considered himself to be good at evaluating and selecting jurors, but he had difficulty understanding this one. He was too close. Unlike the trials at Wabash, Kramer and Moore, he couldn’t figure out the people who would now pass judgment upon him. It was easier for him when they were deciding someone else’s fate.

On the chairs in the jury box, there was one pen and one pad of paper for each juror. The jurors picked them up and sat down. Once they were settled, Judge Husk asked Brenda Gadd to call her first witness.

“The United States calls …” Gadd spoke louder than she needed and paused to add some drama. “Senior FBI Agent Frank Vatch.”

Vatch rolled down the center aisle. He wore a dark suit and tie. He did not turn or look at Michael as he passed. It must have been difficult for him. Michael had endured countless taunts and sneers over the past several years. He had figured Vatch would not be able to control himself. He had hoped that the jury would see how personal the investigation had gotten and how Vatch was not an impartial investigator. But there were no comments or nasty looks. Vatch was on his best behavior.

He rolled up a small ramp to the witness stand, was sworn in, and then Brenda Gadd began.

Normally, a prosecutor begins with foundational questions for the witness. They are background questions about where the witness lives, where they went to school, professional licenses and awards, and then a brief description regarding job duties.

But Brenda Gadd was not a normal prosecutor. Gadd was one of the best government attorneys in the country, and she wasn’t going to waste the moment. She knew that the juror’s minds would begin to wander within ten seconds. Jurors got bored. She needed to strike.

“Thank you.” Gadd nodded toward Judge Husk, and then looked down at a piece of paper in front of her. “I’ll offer exhibits and solicit a lot more background information in a moment, but I’d like to get to the point.”

Gadd glanced over at Michael Collins, and then turned her attention back to Vatch.

“Is there any doubt in your mind that the Defendant, Michael Collins, stole over $500 million from Joshua Krane and his companies?”

“No.” The initial question had likely been rehearsed a hundred times. “There is no doubt in my mind that Michael Collins is a thief.”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Quentin was on his feet. “Lack of foundation, speculation, argumentative, calls for a legal conclusion.”

Judge Husk raised his shaky hand in the air, silencing Michael’s attorney.

“No speaking objections,” he said, softly. “I’ve been doing this awhile.” A spark fired again, in Judge Husk’s tired eyes. “I know the rules. Just object and I’ll tell you whether it is sustained or overruled.”

Judge Husk took a breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. There was a moment in the process of inhaling and exhaling that Michael thought Judge Husk had stopped breathing entirely.

“In this situation, the objection is overruled. In fact, I rather like attorneys who get to the point.”

The first battle with Brenda Gadd had been lost.

###

Agent Vatch’s testimony soon gave way to tedium. Dozens of documents were flashed on the overhead projector’s screen as one exhibit after another was analyzed and described. They were mostly bank account records.

Gadd meticulously followed the money trail. It started with Joshua Krane’s accounts, and Michael knew where it would end.

After a brief lunch break, the “Agent Frank Vatch Show” continued. Hours passed. More documents were projected onto the screen.

Michael noticed that Judge Husk’s head tilted downward. His eyes closed, and the judge appeared to be asleep for most of the afternoon testimony. Quentin didn’t object, because there was nothing to object to, and so the testimony continued without interruption.

The jurors did a better job than Judge Husk. They kept their eyes open, but they were also struggling to remain engaged. The early excitement was gone.

Mercifully, Judge Husk interrupted Gadd at three o’clock.

“I think we’re done for the day. We’ll excuse the jury a little early so I can talk with the attorneys.”

The jurors were visibly relieved. At the words granting them freedom, the juror’s faces lit up. Judge Husk was their hero.

The courtroom stood as the jurors lined up and were led out the side door.

Michael watched. A few of the jurors looked at him, briefly, and then looked away. After being pounded with documents for more than six hours, it seemed like they had already found him guilty.

When the jurors were gone, Judge Husk directed everyone to sit.

“Ms. Gadd, I don’t mean for you to take any offense at this, but I think you’re killing me.”

Brenda Gadd stood, a little confused.

“I’m sorry, Your Honor. I guess I don’t understand.”

Judge Husk leaned his small frail body forward and raised his voice.

“I said, ‘you … are … killing … me.’ “  He paused between each word for emphasis. “It’s getting cumulative and redundant.”

“Your Honor, we have the burden to prove this case beyond a reasonable doubt. I’m merely trying to —”

Judge Husk raised his hand.

“I’ve been a judge for nearly a half-century, Ms. Gadd. I know the legal standard and the burden of proof expected of the government in a criminal case. What I am saying now, is that you do not need to describe every document. The documents are admitted into evidence. They speak for themselves.”

Judge Husk looked at Quentin.

“I assume you agree.”

Quentin Robinson stood. He knew better than to disagree with a judge, especially when a judge was irritated with opposing counsel.

“That is correct, Your Honor.” Quentin sat down.

“Good.” Judge Husk turned back to Brenda Gadd. “We’ll start again tomorrow. In the meantime, rethink how you present your case. All of these thousands of documents are in evidence, and have been graciously stipulated to by Mr. Robinson. So, please do not torture me.” Judge Husk’s ancient lips curled into a smile. “As the young people say these days, ‘life is short.’”

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE

Across town, Kermit Guillardo returned to Hoa Bahns. He walked past the cashier who was flipping through a celebrity gossip magazine while sipping on a bubble tea and snacking on a coconut croissant from the nearby bake shop.

He went past the shelves of overpriced toilet paper, Band-Aids, and cosmetics to the back, where he stopped at the pharmacy counter.

Kermit looked through the glass and didn’t see anybody, then Kermit noticed the bell. He hit the button, and a few seconds later the man with the scar appeared. He wore a white pharmacist’s coat, just as he had before.

“Here for a pick-up.” Kermit’s head bobbled. Kermit let the magnetic energy from his dreadlocks fill the space. “Hoping it’s done.” He took an envelope
filled with cash out of his pocket and slid it through the small opening at the bottom of the glass window.

The pharmacist didn’t say anything. He just picked up the envelope and examined its contents while making a soft clucking sound.

“It’s for Michael Collins,” Kermit added. “I think that should be sufficient.”

The pharmacist turned and disappeared into the back. Kermit heard shuffling from behind a shelf of bottles and plastic containers filled with various powders. A minute later he came back holding the same envelope that Kermit had dropped off a few days earlier.

The pharmacist slid it under the window, and then walked away. He didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.

Kermit took the envelope, which wasn’t sealed. He opened the top flap and removed the document inside. Kermit turned to the last page.

When he had dropped it off, there was only Michael’s signature. Now there were two.

CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR

Michael ate a dinner of institutional meatloaf and gravy. He had been too nervous to be hungry, but he forced himself to eat something. Then Michael went back to his cell and waited. The phone call was supposed to come after dinner, but he wasn’t sure when.

He flipped through a few magazines, trying not to think about the mountain of evidence that Brenda Gadd and Agent Vatch had submitted to the court.  It was only the first day, Michael thought. Tomorrow will be worse.

Michael looked at the photograph of his namesake taped to the wall. Then he closed his eyes. He imagined that the noise of the MDC’s air exchange were waves crashing on the beach. He imagined that he was back in Hut No. 7.

Michael tried to prevent darkness from taking over. If he had a bottle of whiskey, he’d have drank it all. But there wasn’t anything like that in his little cell.

Instead, he focused on the beach, imagining every detail. He had to remain hopeful, although nothing was in his control.

###

A guard knocked on Michael’s door. The sound startled him. Michael had fallen asleep, and he wondered how long he’d been out.

“Phone call from your attorney.”

The guard knocked, again. He wanted Michael to move faster.

“Thanks.”

Michael sat up and got out of his bed. He followed the guard out of the pod, through a series of locked doors and hallways, to a small room with a telephone.

The room was designated to be used exclusively for phone calls between attorneys and their clients. Unlike the other telephones in the MDC, nobody was supposed to monitor these conversations. They were theoretically private, but Michael didn’t believe any of that, so he was careful.

“Hello.” Michael put the receiver to his ear.

“Is this Michael Collins?” It wasn’t Quentin. It was a female voice. It was Andie.

“Yes, this is Michael Collins.” His mood brightened.

“I just wanted to tell you that the documents you’ve provided to us are ready.” There was a pause. “Would you like me to proceed?”

Michael felt a smile involuntarily break across his face.

“Yes.” Michael nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Very well.” Andie was curt and professional. She didn’t break character. “Anything else?”

Michael wanted to tell Andie how much he loved her. He wanted to say how much he wanted to see her. He wanted to hold her and fall asleep with her next to him, all the things that he usually kept bottled up inside.

But, Michael pushed those thoughts away. It wasn’t the time. He couldn’t take the chance.

“No,” Michael said. “There’s nothing else. … Except …” He thought for a second. Michael tried to focus. He ran through different scenarios. “Just make sure you keep a copy for our records.”

“Makes sense,” said Andie. “And before I hang up, your friends wanted me to pass on a message.”

“What’s that?” Michael asked.

“That they love you very much.”

“Thanks for letting me know.” Michael melted. “I love them more than anything.”

“Of course,” Andie said, still professional. “They all know that.”