Judge and Jury Page 12

  Dan didn’t know what to say. It was great to hear such positive comments about his father. But it also made feel as if there was a gigantic hole in his knowledge of his father. His family. More he didn’t know than he did. “I feel guilty. I...don’t recall my father ever mentioning you.”

  “Why would he? He married your mother, and I suspect she didn’t want to hear him talking about his old girlfriend. You were just a kid back then, when he was still alive. I can’t imagine any reason he would ever start talking to his little boy about his ex-girlfriends.”

  Valid point. “Where was this house?”

  “Not far from the beach. You’re daddy loved the water.”

  Just like him.

  “Old Victorian-style thing. It needed lots of work, but it was the best we could afford. And the boys did a lot of much-needed repair work, so it all worked out perfectly. We had our own lives, but we all ate dinner together almost every night.”

  But not forever, apparently. “When did things...start to change?”

  “You mean, when did your dad drift from me to her?” Her smiled faded. “Too soon for me. I saw it coming. But there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

  “Was he...unhappy?”

  “Not that I was aware. But in many ways...we were an odd couple. Truth is, I was the odd man out in the whole house, not just the relationship. I was the only one of the bunch who hadn’t been to college. They were professionals. I was a hairdresser. You get the idea. They talked about books I’d never read. They used words I didn’t know. Don’t get me wrong—your daddy was not a snob. He was completely down-to-earth. He was a cop, after all, not a physics professor. But still. There was a...divide.”

  “And eventually...he drifted over to my mother?”

  “Yeah. And I kept telling myself not to let it get to me. She was a better match for him. And I just wanted him to be happy. I told myself.” Her eyes lowered a bit. “But I’m not quite that selfless. I wanted to be happy too.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “I guess. It just wasn’t meant to be. I was lucky to get the time with him that I did.”

  “Do you know what happened...that night? When Jack was killed?”

  “Sorry. I don’t. That was long after your dad and I stopped seeing each other. I read about it in the paper but...I don’t know anything about it personally.”

  “Do you think he did it?”

  “Like I said, I wasn’t there.”

  “No. But you knew him. And Jack. Better than anyone. What do you think went down?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice became more forceful. She looked away, blinking rapidly. After a few moments, he realized she was blinking away tears. “When I read what happened in the papers, I was horrified. I knew how hard this was going to be on everyone involved. They didn’t deserve this. None of them did.”

  “Was there bad blood between my dad and Jack?”

  “What do you think? Your father took his wife and in time married her. Left him in the cold. But the two men still had to see each other almost every day at work. No way that was going to be a happy experience for any of them. I know Jack thought about getting a transfer but...for whatever reason, it never happened.”

  “Do you think—” Dan swallowed. “Do you think my father was capable of killing Jack?”

  She fidgeted with her fingers. “Your father was a strong man. Very strong.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means he was capable of doing anything, if he had to.”

  “But was he a murderer?”

  “For the right reason?” She wiped her eyes. “I know this isn’t want you want to hear. Ethan wasn’t a bad person at all. But he could do anything if he felt it needed to be done.”

  “Even murder.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  Dan waited a few moments before he pressed ahead. “Do you know anything about me maybe...having a sister?”

  She hesitated a moment, then looked at him levelly. “Dan...are you sure you want to get into this? ‘Cause let me tell you—it’s nasty. You’re not going to like what you hear.”

  “I want to know what happened. What really happened. I want to know the truth.”

  She nodded. “There was...a daughter. Your mom’s daughter. But not with your dad. With Jack.”

  “So...my half-sister?”

  “Yeah. I guess that’s right.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “I don’t know the details. They never wanted to talk about it. I think they considered abortion—your mom and Jack weren’t married yet—but she decided to have the baby. They kept her a few years, then give her up for adoption.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know all the ins and outs. But she resurfaced again, sometime later...there was some trouble. I don’t know that much about it, but she came back into their lives in the worst possible way.”

  “Which is?”

  She bit down on her lower lip. Her eyes went into deep focus.

  “Please. I need to know what happened.”

  She hesitated for a long moment before answering. “You know who you should talk to? Gerald Jaquith. Jack’s old partner. Back in the day.”

  “Would he have been at the shootout? When Jack was killed?”

  “I assume so.”

  “He must be retired now. Do you know where he is?”

  “I don’t.” She flashed a smile. “But you found me. I bet you can track him down too.”

  “I have a friend who is an excellent researcher.”

  “From what I read, you do pretty darn well yourself. You know—your daddy would be very proud of you. What you’ve become. You got dealt some tough cards. But you played them right and turned yourself into a superstar. A star who helps people. Just like your dad did.”

  He did not reply. He couldn’t. He decided to change the subject. “What’s behind the door?”

  “Huh?”

  “The brown door. Between the vending machines.”

  “It’s just...storage...and...”

  He gave her a long look.

  “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve learned to watch people. Carefully. I saw the expression on your face when we came in, as if you were expecting someone else, even though I arrived at the arranged time. I see how you’ve positioned yourself in here. No one can get in or out without going through you. And I can tell from the building layout that there’s more back there than a mere storage closet. It’s at least the size of a massage room. Maybe bigger.”

  She looked worried at first, then all at once, burst out with a huge grin. “Damnation. You are your father’s boy.”

  “Well...”

  “If I were thirty years younger, I’d throw myself at you right here and now.”

  He tugged at his collar. “I’m...seeing someone...”

  She laughed. “Just an expression, kid.”

  “What’s going on back there. Smuggling?”

  “Nothing quite so nefarious.”

  “Then what?”

  “Off the record?”

  “Does it relate to what happened to my dad?”

  “Not in the slightest.”

  “Then ok. Off the record.”

  She took another deep breath. “You know anything about stem cells?”

  “I know President Bush discontinued medical research using them.”

  “But others quietly restarted it. The FDA has even approved stem cell procedures for treating cancer. But there are other uses for it.”

  His forehead creased. “Is this some kind of...secret beauty treatment?”

  She touched her finger to her nose. “Ding ding ding. Medical researchers think stem cells could be used to treat heart disease or diabetes. But some people believe it could have cosmetic benefits. Kinda like the crowd who started taking human growth hormone. People will shoot themselves up with anything it they think it will keep them young.”

&nb
sp; “No doubt.”

  “We’re not the only ones providing this service, though I think we’re the only ones in St Petersburg. Hard to know for sure, since so one’s exactly advertising it.”

  “We’re talking about...?”

  “Untested stem cell beauty treatments. Supposed to take years off you. Erase wrinkles.”

  “I did notice you don’t have much wrinkling.”

  “Because I eat right and take care of myself. I’m not injecting anything risky into myself. But some people do. One lady in California got a $20,000 facelift that put her own stem cells into her face, especially around her eyes. Except the stem cells turned to bone in her eyelid and suddenly she couldn’t see any more. Paid a fortune to undo what she first paid to have done.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. We don’t do that. But we will inject people with stem cells in low threshold doses.”

  “Do you think it helps?”

  “I personally think it’s mostly perception. People want to think they look better so they do.”

  “Like an expensive placebo?”

  “More or less.”

  “Is this illegal?”

  “Not to my knowledge. But maybe nothing to brag about. The Association of Plastic Surgeons has warned against unsubstantiated claims and procedures that might put people at risk. But no laws have been passed. And we don’t do anything that could be harmful.”

  “So far as you know.”

  She nodded. “So far as I know. So it’s not illegal, but we keep it on the quiet, just the same. Want to give it a try?”

  “No thanks. I like my face just fine the way it is.”

  “You might feel differently in twenty years.”

  “Maybe. But I doubt it. I like my wrinkles. I earned these wrinkles. I don’t think they’re anything to be embarrassed about.” He rose to his feet. “But I do thank you for talking to me.”

  “The pleasure was mine. Seeing you takes me back to another time. A happy time. Before the shooting. Before the breakup. Life seemed so much simpler than. A place to live, food to eat, a man you loved. I thought I had it all.”

  He turned toward the door. “Maybe you did.”

  “Not surprised you would say that. You know what? You’re just like him. You probably don’t see it, but I can.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do. And you want to know what else?” She smiled, as broadly as it was possible to smile. “You’ve got his eyes.”

  Chapter 17

  Dan entered the courtroom wondering why he felt such acute anxiety. Compared to other visits to this venue, today should be a snap. After all, he wasn’t even the attorney of record, so technically he didn’t have to do anything except sit in a chair like a phlegmatic android. No one was looking at possible jailtime or a death sentence. He didn’t have a make a brilliant argument. To be honest, he wasn’t even sure what the argument was. He hadn’t even read their brief, though knowing Jimmy, he felt certain it was wonderful.

  But there were stakes. Enormous ones, even if they weren’t the usual stakes. He was fighting not only for his name, but his family’s name. His father’s name. And the more he dug into this, the more convinced he became that Sweeney was at the center of it—and had been for a long time. He was certain someone was watching him. Following him.

  Jimmy came barreling through the courtroom doors, swinging his satchel like a deadly weapon. He paused breathlessly before he and Maria.

  “Whoa, slow down, pardner,” Dan said, holding up his hands. “The deputies are already on edge. You keep moving like that and they’re gonna draw on you.”

  “Sorry,” he said, gulping air, trying to catch his breath. “Important.”

  “Nothing is that important. You can’t help us if you stroke out.”

  “I’m...not...gonna...”

  Maria appeared unpersuaded. “Of course, getting some exercise is probably good for you. Those desserts do tend to add up. But next time you decide to work up a sweat, you might take off the cardigan.”

  “Would you two clowns just listen to me?” he asked, gulping air. “I found two invoices.”

  Maria twirled a finger in the air. “Hurray. More bills to pay.”

  “You’re not getting it.” He reached into his satchel and withdrew a file folder. “Two invoices for investigators.”

  Maria opened the file. “Where did you find this?”

  “In the documents our worthy opponents produced.”

  “Why didn’t we see this sooner?”

  “Because it was buried in a morass of more than twenty thousand pages of garbage. This was in a box that looked completely irrelevant. And most of it was. But not this.”

  “Common trick. It would be contempt of court to not produce requested documents. But there are no rules against producing so much the other side can’t possibly wade through it all.” He scanned the first invoice. “This does confirm what Sweeney alluded to in his deposition. Private investigators.”

  “If they’re claiming this is privileged work product, why produce the invoices?”

  “The results of the investigation may be privileged, but the existence of the investigation is not,” Dan explained.

  “Won’t they have to tell all if they want to use the info at trial?”

  “Sadly, no. They’ll tell as much or as little as they like.”

  “But you can cross-examine their witnesses, if they put them on the stand.”

  “I can try,” Maria replied. “But paid witnesses tend to be loyal to the person who’s paying them.” She tucked the invoices into her notebook. “But this is good work, Jimmy. Thanks for bringing this to my attention.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Now sit down and rest. We need you healthy.”

  They all took a seat. Dan waved at Drake and Caldwell as they entered the room. Still no client. Sweeney was presumably still too busy to be bothered with anything so trivial as a motions docket. He was beginning to wonder if the man would show up for the trial.

  A few minutes later, Judge Fernandez entered the courtroom. After addressing a few preliminary matters, he drew his attention to the motion. “If I understand this, Ms. Morales, you want to compel production of documents and witnesses pertaining to private investigations?”

  She rose. “Yes, your honor. During the deposition, the defendant, Mr. Sweeney—”

  “Dr. Sweeney,” Caldwell corrected.

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. He admitted that he has hired people to investigate matters pertaining to this suit. We immediately requested the production of all documents relevant to these investigations, but they stonewalled us.”

  Caldwell stood. “Not entirely—”

  “Yes, we know you produced the invoices, buried in a box of documents pertaining to something else entirely, but that only tells us, once again, that the investigations exist. Didn’t even give us a clear idea who was hired. So our motion to compel relates to all documents pertaining to these investigations. We assume that will give us the names of the investigators, and then we’ll likely take depositions.”

  Judge Fernandez adjusted his gaze. “And I suppose you object to this, Ms. Caldwell?”

  “Indeed, your honor. Those investigative reports are privileged work product.”

  “That’s not what Sweeney said,” Maria cut in. “He said he hired people.”

  “He was speaking figuratively. Dr. Sweeney said he hired the investigator, but that was actually a reference to the work of his legal team. I know, these abstract concepts may be difficult for you to—”

  “I still want the documents.”

  “As those invoices make clear, the fact is, the investigators were hired by my law firm. They were paid by my firm. Any work generated by them is by definition work product and thus protected from oppositional discovery.”

  “Unless is isn’t,” Maria said. “Those invoices could be a smokescreen, which would explain why they were produced. Sweeney hired the investigators, the lawyers realized it was
a mistake, so they’re trying to avoid discovery by claiming they did the hiring. We really have no way of knowing, and these invoices don’t prove a thing.”

  Judge Fernandez lowered his head and rubbed his temples. “Have any of you read the decisions of Judge Wayne Alley?”

  Caldwell hesitated. “I...don’t think so.”

  “He was handling a case like this. For some reason, his words come back to me today. He wrote in his opinion, “If there is a hell to which disputatious, uncivil, vituperative lawyers go, let it be one in which the damned are eternally locked in discovery disputes with other lawyers of equally repugnant attributes.”

  Maria tucked in her chin. “We all hate discovery disputes, your honor. And the easiest way to resolve them is to adopt a liberal approach. Make them produce the documents. There is little to no harm in producing them, but a great deal of harm if important information is kept secret.”

  “As a general rule,” Fernandez said, “I do adopt a liberal approach. But when client confidences are involved, or attorney work product, I have to be more strict. Clients must be able to tell their lawyers matters in confidence, and lawyer must be able to prepare a case without worrying that the opposing side will seize everything they scribble on a piece of paper. Or eavesdrop on every conversation they have. Or quiz everyone they hire.”

  “But this is entirely different,” Maria said. “Here we’re talking about the results of an investigation. We’re talking about evidence. Not trial strategy. Not confidential discussions. Evidence.”

  “If I may,” Caldwell interrupted, “it’s only evidence if we decide to present it as evidence at trial. And if we do, they will receive notice and copies of relevant materials in advance. If we use any witnesses obtained as a result of an investigation, they will see the name on our witness list and they can depose before trial and cross-examine at trial. But the idea that we have to share everything we obtain as we investigate a case is absurd.”

  “If the court takes that position,” Maria insisted, “then basically, you’re saying the defendants can decide for themselves what’s important and what isn’t. Which basically means they can bury anything that helps us or hurts them.”