Paul Webb sat on a wooden bench outside the courtroom. He was here to handle a series of traffic violations. As he looked over his notes, Hillary Morales walked up to him. Webb didn’t like Morales as she was rarely pleasant with him. She was particularly unlikable today.
“Officer Webb,” she said abruptly.
“Assistant District Attorney,” Webb acknowledged her.
“I understand you met with Washington Beaumont’s attorneys.” She set the file she was holding down on the bench next to Webb and positioned herself so he couldn’t stand up without bumping into her.
“Did I?”
“Yes, you did,” she responded humorlessly.
Webb shook his head. “I don’t know who told you that? I haven’t met with anyone.”
“You forget, I’m the one who told you about the request for a meeting, and I personally gave you Beckett’s cell phone number.” She left no doubt this was an accusation.
“I am aware of that, but I never called him,” Webb lied.
“You never contacted him?” She frowned and folded her arms. She looked down and began kicking the heel of her boot against the tile floor, causing a sharp noise to echo throughout the already-noisy hallway. She waited for him to respond.
Webb looked around to see who could hear them. The hallway was full of attorneys engaged in their own conversations. He looked Morales straight in the eyes and spoke loudly enough for everyone in the hallway to hear: “You told me I had no obligation to meet with the defense attorney. You made it clear I was not to call him and tell him what I witnessed.”
It is unethical for attorneys to discourage witnesses from talking to opposing counsel. When Webb spoke, several of the attorneys gathered in the hallway looked his way.
Morales’ face burned bright red. “I did no such thing,” she hissed. She leaned in close to him, grabbing the back of the bench for support. “I’m telling you, Webb, I want to know what he told you and what you told him, or there’s going to be hell to pay. Do you understand me?!”
“I told you, I never met with him.”
“I don’t believe you,” she spat out menacingly.
He let out a half-laugh. “I don’t care. I never met with any of ’em.”
“Then why did Russell tell me you did?”
“I wouldn’t know. Ask Russell.”
“Don’t play games with me, Webb! If you’re holding out on me-”
Webb rose from the bench, causing Morales to step backward awkwardly. “Lady, playing games with you is the last thing I want to do. I can’t even stand talking to you.” As he walked away, down the hallway toward the courtroom, he called back over his shoulder: “You tell Russell, if he has a problem with me, he should come after me himself. Don’t send his fuckin’ lawyer.”
Corbin stood in the doorway of Beckett’s office. Beckett was on the phone, but was on hold.
“Did you call Saitoo?” Corbin asked.
“No, we can’t use him or his witnesses,” Beckett replied, rolling his eyes.
“That doesn’t give us much of a defense, does it?”
There was a voice on the line. Beckett jerked straight up in his chair. “Yes, hello. I’m trying to reach Loretta Shapiro.”
“Ms. Shapiro is out of the office. Can I help you?”
“I hope so. My name is Evan Beckett. I’m an attorney. I’m trying to find out about an old investigation performed by your office.”
“Our investigations are confidential,” replied the woman.
“I’m aware of that. I can also send over a subpoena if need be, but before I waste everyone’s time, I just want to make sure my information is right. . I know how busy you all are,” Beckett added, trying to smooth the conversation.
After a pause, the woman said: “What’s the name?”
“The mother would be CarrieFey Benz, but I doubt she was even investigated, to tell the truth.”
“Benz? Yeah, it looks like she was investigated.”
“Does it say who got the investigation started?”
“No, this computer doesn’t do that. I’d have to pull the file.”
“Can you do that?” Beckett asked hopefully.
“I’ll need the subpoena first,” she replied.
Beckett agreed and the women told him where to send it and what details to include to get the right file. He grinned at Corbin. “Did you hear that? It looks like CarrieFey Benz was investigated. That’s another one Beaumont might be telling the truth about.”
“We’ll see. Let’s wait until we see the report.”
The following morning, Corbin and Beckett sat on the bench outside the judge’s chamber. Hillary Morales stood silently at the other end of the hallway. None of them knew why Judge Sutherlin had summoned them. Finally, they were called into the office.
“Good morning, counselors,” Judge Sutherlin said, glancing over the top of his glasses. “I’ve been looking over the motions to dismiss filed by the defense, and I need more information. Counselor, have you had a chance to review the defendant’s motions?” he asked Morales.
“Yes, Your Honor,” she replied.
The judge pushed his glasses further up his nose and flipped through the file on his desk. “Ms. Morales, I don’t see how you’re going to prove these accounts were stolen in the first place.”
Morales looked stunned. She clutched her pen so tightly that it bent under the pressure, causing blue ink to leak out onto her blood-red pantsuit.
The judge continued: “I don’t see any witnesses on your list who can say their identities were stolen. Where are the people whose identities were used? Without testimony from those witnesses, I need to think strongly about dismissing this case. Are you planning on bringing any such witnesses?”
“Yes, Your Honor, we will bring those witnesses,” Morales assured him, though she clearly had no idea if she could keep that promise.
“I certainly hope so.”
Corbin’s face turned red with anger and he started to speak, but Beckett cut him off. Beckett looked worried. “Your Honor, could we have a five minute break?”
The judge looked at his watch. “Five minutes.”
The conference room they normally used was occupied, so Corbin and Beckett headed to the restroom next to the judge’s chamber. Inside, they found a clerk sitting on the ledge smoking. The clerk had figured out how to open the window, mercifully allowing cold outside air to offset the ultra-steamy air leaking out of the damaged radiator.
“If you’ll excuse us, we need to discuss something before we go back to see the judge,” Beckett told the clerk.
The clerk tossed the cigarette out the window, into the dumpster below, and walked out without a word. Beckett locked the door behind the clerk, as Corbin closed the window so their voices wouldn’t carry to any other open windows. It took him a few seconds to figure out how the clerk managed to get the window open and reverse it.
“That son of a bitch!” Corbin whispered angrily. “Sutherlin just told them how to try their case. He saw they couldn’t prove a necessary element of the crime and he just warned them. He told them what he wants to see!”
“Calm down.”
“I am calm,” Corbin replied tensely.
Beckett jammed his hands into his worn navy-blue suit pants and shook his head. “I don’t care about the heads up from the judge. That stinks, but that’s life. What I am concerned about is the prosecutor calling people we know as witnesses.”
Corbin froze as he grasped the meaning of Beckett’s words. To satisfy the judge’s demand for witnesses whose identities had been stolen, Morales and Pierce would need to call Corbin and Beckett’s coworkers from the Washington office as witnesses.
“How the hell do we explain that?!” Beckett asked rhetorically. “This could be bad.”
“Ya think?!” Corbin replied sarcastically. He glared at Beckett. Hate registered in his eyes, but Beckett didn’t notice.
Beckett bit his lip. “If they start calling people from the office to come testify, it would take a fool not to put two and two together and start wondering how you and I could be defending someone in another city, who just happens to be accused of stealing their identities. No one will see that as a coincidence.”
“And once they start asking questions, the prosecution’ll start asking questions. I told you this was a horrible idea!” Corbin growled. He took a deep breath. “What are our options?” he demanded. “Do we find some reason to withdraw?”
Beckett stared at the floor.
“Shit!” Corbin said to no one in particular. “Is there anything we can do to keep them from testifying?” he asked himself aloud.
Beckett snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it!”
“What?”
“We stipulate that the accounts belong to these people.”
“How does that help?”
“If we stipulate, then the fact is presumed to be true and the prosecutor doesn’t need to bring the witnesses to prove it. That means they don’t need to bring anyone from Washington. In fact, they can’t bring them or we could object that their testimony is unnecessarily cumulative.”
“Are you sure?” Corbin asked, carefully enunciating each word.
Beckett nodded his head. “Yes.”
“How do we know they won’t try to bring them anyway?”
“We don’t. But there wouldn’t be much point doing that, because they couldn’t testify. They would just be wasting money.”
“Do you think the prosecutor will agree?”
“I don’t know about Pierce, but I know Morales will, if we offer it to her right now. She looks worried. I’m betting she doesn’t want to admit to Pierce she made a huge mistake that requires him to pay for a dozen out-of-state witnesses.”
Corbin raised his hand as if to make a point, but stopped himself. “It’s your decision.”
Beckett approached Morales, who sat on the wooden bench waiting for the judge to call them back into his chamber. She was writing in a file.
“I’ve got a proposal for you.”
“I’m listening,” she replied curtly, without looking up.
“There’s no reason this trial needs to last ten days just so you can go through a parade of out-of-state witnesses who only need to say their identities were stolen. We’re willing to stipulate that these witnesses are the real people whose identities were stolen.”
Morales flipped through her file trying to give the impression she was reluctant to accept the offer, but her nervous foot tapping gave away her real mindset. “All right, but I’m not offering anything in return,” she said, although her tone suggested she would listen to any reasonable counteroffer.
“Done,” Beckett said. “We’ll stipulate to all of them.”
A few moments later, Beckett and Morales notified the judge of their agreement. He was pleased.
It started snowing lightly as Corbin and Beckett left the courthouse to walk back to the office. “Why didn’t you ask for something in return?” Corbin asked. “She would have offered something. That was pretty obvious.”
“I didn’t want to risk it. Before she can offer anything, she’ll have to run it by Pierce, and that gives them time to think things through. I’d rather take the deal while it was available.”
Corbin shook his head and stopped walking. “You know what? You’ve been going on and on about being super moral and super ethical and how you can’t let an innocent man go down for your crimes-”
“What’s your point?!”
“Doesn’t it go against Beaumont’s interests to have you stipulate to something like this? Philly’s a long way from D.C., and subpoenaing these people won’t be easy or effective. I’ll bet only one or two of them would even show up. That means most of the charges would have been dismissed. But you,” Corbin pointed at Beckett, “you just stipulated to them because it served your interests. You cut that deal to make your problem go away, and you never once thought about the effect on Beaumont.”
“If we don’t stipulate, then everything blows up. Is that what you want?” Beckett shot back.
“It’s no skin off my ass. I don’t care about Beaumont. I just want you to realize what you did.”
“You want me to turn myself in right now?!”
“Is that a threat?” Corbin asked acidly.
“Get off my back, Alex,” growled Beckett and he turned to leave, but Corbin grabbed his arm, stopping him. Corbin started to speak, but didn’t, and Beckett jerked his arm away from Corbin. They glared at each other in silence.