(Chapter 32. Judge Greer's courtroom, July 2, 2033.)
"The prosecution calls FBI Agent Ronald J. Wagner to the stand," U.S. Attorney Bressler stated, and he waited patiently as his next witness rolled through the courtroom in his motorized wheelchair and was helped to the witness stand by one of the bailiffs. For a moment, Ron looked for his wife in the audience. He quickly felt his anxiety level rise when she was not sitting beside Steven, Liv, and Keith where he expected her to be. Finally, he found her, she gave him a smile and an encouraging wink, and he was able to take a deep breath and focus on the prosecutor.
Amanda was the only person to whom Ron had ever confessed about the terrible stage fright that randomly assaulted him when he was called to testify in court. Sometimes, he became very nervous and anxious, and other times, he was perfectly comfortable, and he never knew how he would feel until he got to the stand. Knowing the anxiety would probably totally overwhelm him in his present medical condition if it attacked today, she had arranged to be in the courtroom throughout his testimony. She would have sat with Liv, Keith, and Steven, but she had arrived a little later than expected, and there were no seats left near her friends. She took a seat directly in front of the witness stand instead, and hoped Ron would find her quickly. She felt a small pang of guilt and sympathy as she noticed his eyes widen when he realized she was not with their friends, but he eventually found her. She gave him a wink and a smile, and was pleased to see him take a deep breath and settle in as if he was now ready for anything.
"Agent Wagner," Bressler began after Ron was sworn in, "could you please begin by describing when and how you first came to meet with the defendant and what information she disclosed to you in that meeting?"
"She approached me at the FBI's Los Angeles field office in late September," Ron wrinkled his forehead in though, and then shook his head. "I don't recall the exact date, but it's in my notes from the meeting . . . "
"Excuse me just a moment, Agent Wagner," Bressler interrupted. "I have copies of your notes here . . ." He gave the bailiff two copies, which were then delivered to the defense table and the judge while Bressler handed another copy to his witness. "Just to be sure we have all our details straight," the U.S. Attorney said condescendingly, "what is the exact date on your notes?"
Ron stared disdainfully at the young man for a moment and, in a tortured voice said, "According to my notes, on September 27, Lieutenant Stephens came to my office to inform me that she had overheard a plot to kidnap federal witness Giancarlo Moretti. She had already managed to infiltrate the group of conspirators and was seeking federal assistance in apprehending them."
"She was not yet a police Lieutenant, was she?"
"No, Sir," Ron replied, his damaged voice grating as he spoke. "She was taking courses in California law and procedure necessary to join the LAPD. Officially, she was between jobs at the time, neither a member of the LAPD nor part of the Clearfield County Sheriff's Department, which she had left a few weeks earlier to move west."
"So, she was an out-of-work former cop when she came to you saying somehow, miraculously, she had ended up on the inside of a plot to abduct a protected federal witness," Bressler summarized. "She must have been pretty convincing to get you to take her at her word."
Bruce Delong stood as if to object to the sarcastic tone Bressler was using with the witness, but to everyone's surprise, he rather reluctantly sat down again without a word when his client tugged at his sleeve and whispered some instructions to him. Agent Wagner's testimony continued uninterrupted while the defense attorney sat quietly sulking beside his client.
"She was a concerned citizen with extensive police experience," Ron rephrased the statement coldly, his tone and choice of words belying the smoldering anger in his eyes, "and yes, she was very convincing. I think I was right to trust her, given Mr. Moretti survived to . . ."
"I see," Bressler interrupted. He paused for thought, then asked, "but at the time she came to you, was she working for any law enforcement agency?"
"On September 27, no, she was not employed as an officer of the law. She was taking cour . . ."
"Thank you, Agent Wagner," Bressler cut him off as soon as Steve provided the information he had solicited. "So, when this out-of-work former cop came to you with information about a plot to kidnap one of your witnesses, why did you so eagerly agree to jump on board and turn it into a sting operation?"
"I . . . I knew her . . . by reputation, but . . . I checked her out, too . . . " Ron began. The interruptions were beginning to unnerve him, but he was doggedly determined to finish his statement this time.
"Oh, so you knew about her criminal history? Her conviction for espionage?"
"No, I didn't . . .I didn't go that far back, her record as a cop was exemplary, and . . . I didn't see the need to go further . . . I . . . " Ron tried to faster this time, and managed to get more words in edgewise, but he was still cut off by the prosecutor.
"I see," Bressler interrupted stuffily.
Bruce started to get to his feet again, but Emily grabbed his arm. They had a whispered, but obviously heated, discussion for several moments before Bruce finally held up his index finger and obviously mouthed the words, "Once more."
"Mr. Delong," Judge Greer asked, "Does the defense have something to say at this juncture?"
Bruce looked to Emily with pleading, insistent eyes, but she shook her head no. Sighing, he said, "Not at this time, Your Honor. Sorry for the interruption."
The judge frowned in a puzzled, thoughtful way, then relaxed his features, and said, "Very well. Mr. Bressler, you may continue."
"Thank you, Your Honor," Bressler fawned. Then he turned to his witness again. "So, Agent Wagner, you and this 'exemplary' out-of-work cop with a history of federal convictions hatched a plan to kidnap Mr. Moretti. To what end?"
"To take him into custody for safe keeping," Ron replied, now stiffly unwilling to say any more than was necessary to answer the question. If Bressler wouldn't let him finish his answers and say anything to help Emily, then he would not give Bressler any additional information to twist around to suit his case.
"I thought he was already in federal custody," Bressler said, feigning confusion.
"Yes, well, he was, but . . . we weren't sure he was all that safe . . . "
"But you were sure that an out-of-work former cop with a criminal history and at least one federal conviction in her past could help you protect him," Bressler interrupted again. "That's
very interesting, Agent Wagner, very interesting."
This time, Bruce stood up and shook free of Emily's restraining hand on his arm. "Objection, Your Honor! The defense finds the witness' testimony very interesting, too, and would like to request that Mr. Bressler be compelled to stop his own testifying long enough to allow Agent Wagner to complete his answers before charging ahead to further questions. This is the seventh time he has interrupted his own witness!"
"Your Honor," Bressler responded, "the witness has answered all of my questions adequately so far. I am only summarizing and moving on when he has provided the information that I have requested. I hadn't realized the defense was keeping score."
"Your Honor!" Bruce objected.
"Mr. Bressler," the judge warned.
"My apologies to the defense counsel," Bressler made a slight bow in Bruce's direction then responded to the judge. "Your Honor, I am only trying to save this court's valuable time by continuing promptly after the witness answers my questions."
Emily huffed slightly and sat at the defense table biting her lower lip and wringing her hands while the judge looked very much like a man with a painful dilemma. He knew Bressler was maneuvering Agent Wagner into incriminating Lieutenant Steven's against his will, but he also knew it was the prosecution's job to get the witnesses to state the facts in a case so that the guilty could be convicted. He couldn't very well order Bressler to let the witness ramble at will, though he was sure if he did Agent Wagner would have a lot more to say that would benefit the defense. Finally, he sighed and said, "Overruled, Mr. Delong. You will have the opportunity to question him further under cross examination."
Bressler smiled brightly at the judge's ruling. Bruce sat down with a sigh. Emily continued to wring her hands and worry her bottom lip with her upper teeth.
Ron's testimony continued for quite some time with Bressler treating him almost like a hostile witness, asking accusatory questions, and stopping him as soon as the incriminating testimony was given. When something the FBI agent said was not damaging enough for Bressler's liking, it was either rephrased to be damning or dismissed completely as irrelevant and immaterial.
By the time Bressler thanked the FBI agent for his time, Ron was seething quietly, furious with the prosecutor's smug and condescending attitude as well as his own nervous stammering that had occasionally made him sound uncertain or untruthful. Emily had restrained her lawyer from objecting several times, and Bruce was frantically exchanging notes with his client. The scribbling went back and forth for several moments after Bressler had finished his questioning. Finally, the judge spoke.
"Mr. Delong?"
"Your Honor?" Bruce stood as he spoke.
"Do you wish to cross examine the witness?"
Bruce looked at Emily and pointed to something on the tablet between them. She shook her head and pointed to something else. Bruce sighed impatiently, and said, "Not at this time, Your Honor, but we reserve the right to recall this witness when the defense presents its case."
"Is this another of your client's decisions?" Greer asked.
"Yes, Sir."
"Do you deem her reasoning sound?" Greer ordinarily didn't question such things, but he knew a little about the clever young woman who was before him, and he knew she was likely taking a larger role in her own defense than most accused individuals. He didn't want there to be any question later of inadequate representation based on actions Bruce Delong took at her insistence.
Bruce sighed. "I disagree with her premise, Sir, but I can't fault her logic, and I am aware of no precedents or case law that would require her to alter her strategy."
"Very well, then," the judge turned to Ron. "Agent Wagner, you are dismissed. As you may be recalled later, please refrain from discussing your testimony with anyone."
With a sigh that was equal parts relief and regret, Ron allowed himself to be helped back into his wheelchair. As he whirred out of the courtroom, he was comforted to hear Amanda's familiar footsteps behind him. The anxiety hadn't quite gotten the best of him this time, but he had a feeling he was going to be recalled. Her calming presence would help him stay focused so that when he finally got a chance to say something helpful for Emily, he wouldn't freeze up.
Olivia and Keith sat in the audience along with Steven and Alex, who had signed himself out of the hospital for the rest of the day. Upon hearing about the dramatic turn of events in the courtroom, Maribeth had readily agreed to cover the rest of his shift for him. Olivia had a pile of shredded tissue in her lap. It had once been a handkerchief, but now it was merely a sorry victim of an overwrought mother's anxiety. Keith repeatedly shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His prosthetic legs were giving him hell. Steven sat between Liv and Alex, tense and worried and silent. Alex kept a concerned eye on the three of them and his patient.
During the lull between Ron being dismissed and the next witness being called to the stand, Liv whispered to her husband, "What's she doing, Keith?"
Keith shook his head and said, "I don't know, O, but I have a bad feeling about this."
"The prosecution calls Deputy Chief of Police Steven M. Sloan to the stand, Your Honor!"
"She saved my life, Mr. Bressler!" Steve nearly shouted. About half way through Bressler's questioning, he had, for the first time in weeks, begun to feel that familiar burning sensation that signaled his emotions were getting out of control. He was nearing the end of his testimony, now, and he was in a fair amount of pain. He was thoroughly outraged at the way the prosecutor had been treating him. Worse, he was worried because Emily was not allowing her lawyer to do anything to stop it. Several times, Bruce Delong had looked as if he wanted to object, but when he looked to Emily, she shook her head. None of Bressler's questions had asked for any information that would possibly help Emily, and when he tried to slip something in on his own, he was invariably cut off. Steve was beginning to fear that Cheryl had been correct in thinking that Emily was trying to sabotage herself in court.
"Tell me, Deputy Chief Sloan, if she had given you the information you needed to take Mrs. Bergman into custody earlier, would your life have needed saving?"
"What? I . . . I don't understand." Steve was confused now.
"If Mrs. Bergman had been in jail, would your life have been in danger?"
Steve shook his head, puzzled. "No, not from her at any rate. But we couldn't put her in jail. We had no proof that she was doing anything illegal. You can't jail people because of what their relatives have done."
"But you can jail them for leaking information about an ongoing police investigation. I believe it is called obstruction of justice."
"We had no proof," Steve said acidly. "If we had, we would have arrested her on the spot."
Bressler smiled, and the expression on his face chilled Steve to the bone and made his guts burn at the same time. "Lieutenant Stephens had the proof you needed, Chief Sloan. She had it all along!"
"What?" Bruce Delong blurted out.
"No!" Emily gasped.
Steve narrowed his eyes at the prosecutor and hissed, "I don't believe you."
"It's true, Chief," Bressler insisted. "It's all laid out in these documents." He produced copies of some of the ledgers Moretti had supplied for the Gaudino trial. "If the lieutenant had turned Mr. Moretti over to you, as ordered back on March 5, you would have had all the evidence you needed to jail Ms. Bergman for conspiracy to kidnap a protected federal witness."
Reviewing the system of prefixes and the numeric transaction codes that Moretti had described in the Gaudino trial three months ago, Bressler showed how large amounts of money were regularly transferred to an account at a little offshore bank. All of the transfers correlated with failed police actions against important members of the Gaudino crime family, and the last one, a huge payoff by any standards was made the day Moretti was kidnapped.
"All of that money was then transferred into the account of the late Roger, a.k.a. Rogelio, Gorini, who I am sure you know, is the nephew of one Vinnie Gaudino," Bressler continued. "A percentage of those transfers was then deposited into a joint account that Mr. Gorini shared with his lover. Do you know who his lover was, Chief Sloan?"
Steve swallowed down the taste of rising bile then almost whispered into the microphone, "Leigh Ann Bergman, my civilian assistant."
"That's right, Chief Sloan! The woman who tried to kill you." Bressler said triumphantly. "Your Honor, the prosecution would now like to add the charge of obstruction of justice to those already pending against the defendant, Emily Morgan Stephanie Theodora Stephens."
"Your Honor, I object!" Bruce shouted.
"I can't believe I missed it," Emily gasped. She put her hand to her forehead, grasping her temples, and moaned, "Ohhhhhh, nooooo!" She was visibly fighting tears.
Judge Greer banged his gavel and called for order.
"You had three months and a team of lawyers to work that out," Steve said. "She had three weeks while she was on the run and on her own."
"Your Honor," Bruce continued to argue over the gasps and shouts in the courtroom, "there is no way my client could have know about those transactions! She only had access to the ledger. She didn't have the banking records of Mr. Gorini or Ms. Bergman. There wasn't even an ongoing investigation into Ms. Bergman or Mr. Gorini's activities at the time, so there was nothing for my client to obstruct."
"Your client prevented the beginning of the investigation by withholding Mr. Moretti and the ledgers, Counselor!" Bressler countered.
"I will have order!" the judge commanded.
"She was protecting a witness!" Bruce shouted.
"She was concealing evidence vital to a police investigation!" Bressler shouted back.
The judge banged his gavel repeatedly until he had pummeled the courtroom into silence. Looking at Bruce, he said, "Your objection is sustained, Mr. Delong."
"Your Hon . . . "
"Mr. Bressler! If you choose to argue with me, you will be doing so from a jail cell. I have made my ruling. We will finish this trial first, and then I will consider the obstruction charges."
Bressler nodded. "Yes, Sir."
"Very good. Now, do you have any further questions for your witness?"
"Just one, Sir," Bressler said. "This refers to the reckless endangerment charges which were leveled last week. Chief Sloan, on March 28 of this year, if you'd had access to this information, would Leigh Ann Bergman have been in the courtroom on the day of the Gaudino trial?"
Steve glared at the prosecutor for several long moments until finally the judge said, "The witness will answer the question."
Steve leaned forward and said very tensely, "It is impossible to say what would have happened."
"All right, I will rephrase my question and break it into parts to make it easier for you to answer," Bressler said smugly. "First, would you have charged Ms. Bergman with any crimes relating to the evidence I have just presented?"
To say no would have made him appear corrupt or a liar. Saying yes would definitely be bad for Emily. Steve leaned forward, ignoring the burning in his guts, and said, "Probably."
"Given the evidence I have just presented, do you, as an expert with all your years of experience in law enforcement, believe that after arraignment she would have been held to answer for those charges?"
"Probably." Steve's response was terse and unwilling.
"And, if Ms. Bergman had been held to answer for those charges, would she have been present for the Gaudino trial on March 28?"
"Probably not." Steve felt quite ill.
Bressler smiled pleasantly at his witness and said, "No further questions, Your Honor."
"Your witness, Mr. Delong."
Bruce and Emily were vigorously exchanging notes. Steve watched as Delong pointed to something on a tablet, whispered something, and made a pleading gesture. Emily tapped something on her tablet and shook her head.
"Mr. Delong?" the judge prompted.
Sighing dejectedly, Bruce said, "No questions at this time, Your Honor, but we reserve the right to recall this witness when the defense presents its case."
"Deputy Chief Sloan, you are dismissed for now," the judge said, "but, because you may be recalled, please do not discuss your testimony with anyone."
Steve stared hard at the defense table. Against all common sense, he finally said, "Emily, I can help you."
"Chief Sloan!" Greer snapped, "Please, refrain from addressing the defendant!"
"Emily, let him question me. I can help you!"
"Chief Sloan, you have been dismissed!"
"Emily, please!"
"Chief Sloan, one more word and I will hold you in contempt."
Steve opened his mouth as if to speak, but then he realized he would be of little use to anyone from a jail cell. Moreover, Emily would probably hold herself responsible for his bad decisions made on her behalf. Closing his mouth, he looked to the judge, nodded to acknowledge the warning, and left the stand. As he stepped down, he caught Steven's eye, and with a flick of his gaze tried to indicate to his son that he needed to speak to him outside. There was no way in hell he was going to let himself be hospitalized again, but he would let his son give him something for the indigestion that was plaguing him now.
Steve called Tanis from the courthouse at two in the afternoon.
"Oh, hey, Steve, how's it going?" Tanis heard the big sigh before he spoke and said, "Oh, that well, huh?"
"I think you should prepare that press release, Tanis," Steve said. "Get ready to make as big a deal as you can out of it. Draw as much attention as possible away from the trial."
"I'll do my best, Steve," she promised, "but the next press briefing isn't until eight tonight, so the reporters can have their stories for the eleven o'clock news hour. It won't make it in time for the six o'clock news."
He sighed again. "The way things are going, neither will the verdict. Just do your best, ok?"
"I will, Steve, and I'm sorry. I know you're very fond of her."
"Yeah. Thanks, Tanis."
Steve had been careful not to discuss the specifics of Emily's case with Tanis over the phone. Anything he had said, she could have gotten from asking any random spectator in the public gallery. He had known from Cheryl and Moretti's expressions that they had received treatment similar to what he had experienced during their testimony, and had decided then that if Emily wouldn't let him help her in a court of law, he could at least help her in the court of public opinion. If the press latched on to his resignation before the verdict was handed down, at least she might have a brief few hours of peace before they started broadcasting her life's story and clamoring for a statement from her again.
After Moretti's testimony, there had been a short recess 'so the defendant's physician could examine her', the bailiff had said. Emily had been determined fit to continue, though, and fifteen minutes later, Ron had been recalled to testify for the defense. Moretti had gone off for a walk, his protection in tow, and as Steve hung up the phone and turned to Cheryl, he realized with a burning feeling in his stomach that he was in for another round of questioning he didn't especially want to face.
"Why didn't you tell me you were turning in your resignation before you went to Tanis?"
As he took a seat, Steve didn't even consider lying to her or telling her to back off. She'd known him too long, and she knew him too well for that. He was feeling tired and dejected, and his stomach was still upset. He just didn't have the energy to fend off her questions with clever or ambiguous answers, so he put it to her straight. "I don't think I can do the job any more."
"Why?" The only indication of Cheryl's surprise was a slight widening of her eyes, something most people would never notice, but Steve had known to look for it because he was so familiar with her expressions. He smiled slightly. She's still got it.
"Because of Leigh Ann," he said. He rested his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped and hung his head.
"Steve, she's sick," Cheryl told him, placing a hand on his back. "You're the best cop I have ever known. How can you let her drive you out of the force?"
"She worked for me for years, and she hated me, Cheryl. She hated me enough to want to kill me; and not only that, she wanted to destroy me," Steve spoke slowly, and Cheryl could tell it was the first time he had ever voiced any of these thoughts. She waited patiently for him to think things through as he spoke, and was surprised by how deeply Leigh Ann's treachery had affected him.
"She wanted to alienate me from my friends and family and to take everything I ever was and everything I've ever done twist it and make it dirty. She wanted to shame me. She wanted to completely disassemble me in front of the world, and I never noticed." Cheryl realized that while on a personal level Steve felt hurt and betrayed by his civilian assistant, on another, deeper level he was astounded that anyone could be so devious and appalled that it had gotten by him.
"Steve," Cheryl said sympathetically, "Leigh Ann is crazy, not stupid. She hid it very well. Nobody was suspicious."
He turned in his seat to face her. "But Cheryl, I saw her every day, several times a day. She brought me my coffee in the mornings, handled my correspondence for me, and planned my appointments. She even reminded me to send my wife flowers for birthdays and anniversaries."
A horrified look crossed his face, followed by a pained expression as his sensitive stomach protested yet another surge of unpleasant emotion. "She could have taken me out any day. She could have hurt Maribeth or Steven or . . . or my dad. Jesse has been in my office so many times, with his wife and daughter. Amanda and Ron and their kids have been by. She's met Dion's kids. But she waited. She waited until she could hurt us all. How can I be a cop and work that closely with someone for that long and never notice that kind of hatred?"
"Steve, you had no reason to suspect her," she tried to convince him. "You didn't know who she really was. She hid her background well, and she did her job perfectly. She was an excellent assistant."
Steve leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as he spoke. "If I'm home when Maribeth gets back from work, I can tell by the time she opens the front door what kind of day she's had. I can tell when my dad has an idea by the light in his eyes. I know by Amanda's posture what her mood is."
He leaned forward and looked at Cheryl again. "A minute ago, I could tell I surprised you because your eyes opened wider, and now you doubt me, and I know it, because you're raising one eyebrow," Cheryl frowned, "and now you can't believe I'd notice something like that in you. Hell, I've even learned to read Ron Wagner! My job requires me to be able to notice things about people. It was right in front of me for years, and I never saw it. I can't do my job if I can't see signs like that."
"Steve, there have been other suspects who have managed to trick you in the past, why are you letting her get under your skin so bad?"
"She didn't just trick me, Cheryl, she made a fool of me." Suddenly, Steve was on his feet and pacing. "She smiled to my face and did small favors like picking up my dry cleaning and wrapping Christmas presents for me when things got real busy, and all the while, she was looking for a way to ruin me."
Cheryl watched Steve walking back and forth in front of her. She could read him every bit as well as he could her, and she knew there was something more coming. He only paced when he was coming up to something he didn't think he could deal with. It was as if he thought he could walk away from it if he just kept moving.
Eventually, he spoke again. "I questioned Leigh Ann the night she shot Emily. Do you know what she said? She told me I could salvage some dignity by claiming old age clouded my judgment. She was right. She also said, that would just prove I'm too vain and proud to admit I'm past my prime. Cheryl, I'm over seventy years old. Why the hell am I still a cop?"
He threw himself back down in his chair and waited for an answer.
