Raymond and Casey disagreed over whether the Commonwealth would actually call Wally to the stand. When Cora Cook resumed her case Wednesday morning, she announced, “Your Honor, the Commonwealth calls Mr. Walter Thackerman to the stand.”
Minutes passed as a bailiff found Wally in the hallway and dragged him in. He took the stand and swore to tell the truth. Weighing his words carefully, he told the story of his history with Eleanor Barnett. She was a widow with no children and needed a simple will. The same story she’d fed Simon two months later. He marveled at her imagination, her thoroughness, and her scheming.
Most of Wally’s testimony was objectionable on the grounds of hearsay. He was repeating statements made by a dead person. However, neither side objected because both sides wanted the jury to hear the testimony. The Commonwealth was attempting to prove that because of Eleanor’s apparent wealth both lawyers, Wally and especially Simon, were motivated by greed. Because of her assets, a more complicated will was necessary, one that would generate plenty of fees. The defense wanted Wally to portray Eleanor as a nutty old woman still dreaming of her lost fortune.
Cora asked, “And she signed the will you prepared for her on January seventh of last year, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“And what happened to the original?”
“The client always keeps the original. I kept a copy.”
“Her original has not been found. Do you have any idea where it might be?”
Wally cast a casual look at Simon and coolly said, “I do not.”
“Where is your copy?”
“In my office. In Braxton.”
“You were supposed to bring it to court today.”
“I refuse to do so.”
“On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that it is my work-product and therefore privileged. The will has not been probated and is not public record. I have been charged with no crime. Therefore, my work-product is not discoverable.”
“Your Honor, I ask the court to order this witness to produce his copy of the will he prepared for Eleanor Barnett.”
Judge Shyam had been briefed on the issue by her clerk and did not hesitate. “Your request is denied. The will has not been probated and may never see the light of day. Therefore, it is still considered attorney work-product and privileged. Please proceed.”
Wally glanced again at Simon and gave a slight nod, as if to say, I’ll protect you. You protect me.
The dirty little secret of Wally’s gift of $485,000 to himself would remain buried.
Cora was frustrated but kept her cool. She asked Wally if he could describe in general terms how the money would be distributed by Eleanor’s will. He launched into a windy summary of trusts and their beneficiaries, but continually scoffed at the notion that the money was actually there. He defended his language that gave himself $750 an hour. Yes, it was on the high end, but the work would be complicated. Furthermore, estate lawyers in Washington and New York were charging more than that. There was even a big firm right down the street in Virginia Beach in which the lawyers were billing a thousand bucks an hour. At times he almost made $750 an hour sound like minimum wage.
Simon was amused and let Wally know it. One day, hopefully, they might be able to have a laugh over a beer.
During a recess, Raymond, Casey, and Simon debated how to handle Wally on cross. Simon said, “Leave him alone. He did nothing to hurt us.”
“What about his grab for half a million bucks?” Casey asked.
“Let it go. It doesn’t help us.”
Chapter 48
When Clement Gelly agreed to serve as the conservator of Eleanor Barnett’s estate back in January, he was practically guaranteed by Judge Pointer that he would not get tangled up in any criminal proceedings. He certainly did not want to testify against Simon Latch, a lawyer he liked and respected. Now that he was entangled and even subpoenaed, he tried to avoid taking the stand by filing a motion with the court. Said motion was denied. He pleaded with Judge Pointer to remove him as conservator, but she refused. She apologized for the mess he was in, but had no choice because no other lawyer in Braxton would get near the case.
He swore to tell the truth and sat in the witness chair with the firm intention of saying as little as necessary. If at all possible, he would say nothing to harm Simon’s defense.
Using real estate tax records, bank statements, and quarterly notices from Rumke-Brown, he quickly laid out the value of Ms. Barnett’s estate. The house was unencumbered by debt and appraised last year for $292,000. A checking account at Security Bank in Braxton had a balance of $3,300. There were two certificates of deposit held by the East Federal bank in Atlanta, one for $21,000 and one for $13,000. A money market account at the same bank had a balance of $28,400. The estate owned 6,775 shares of common stock in the Coca-Cola corporation, market value the day before of $271,000. Add another $5,000 for furniture and assorted personal items, and the total value was slightly more than $630,000. No state or federal estate taxes were anticipated.
As Simon scribbled the numbers down and tallied them up, he had to admit that most of the wills he had prepared in his career involved estates with far fewer assets. It was an impressive estate for Braxton, Virginia, but a far, lonely, and pathetic cry from what he once dreamed of. He could not help but remember the first time he tallied up the value of her estate. It had been more than a year earlier, in his conference room, as Netty softly dabbed her eyes with a tissue and lied through those natural yellow teeth. What a smooth and convincing liar she had been. What a gullible and greedy fool he had been.
Relying on brokerage statements provided by Buddy Brown, Clement gave a succinct summary of Harry Korsak’s investment history and the accumulation of wealth. Because he could not verify the story, he skipped the best part, the volcano that blew Montrouge out of the Caribbean and off the map, and said that Harry had lost most of his money through bad investments. It was a colorful subplot but thoroughly irrelevant.
Clement showed the jury the mysterious notebook Ms. Barnett kept partially hidden in a check binder, but refused to speculate on why she did so. The jury would have to speculate too. Apparently, the old gal lost her marbles not long after she lost her money, and still pretended she was loaded. In great detail, she had lied to two lawyers and kept her fiction straight.
Simon thought of the hours lost with her, primarily eating in ethnic restaurants and discussing strange food. And all on his beleaguered credit card.
She never offered to pay for the first meal.
The estate was liquid and would provide a nice windfall for someone, probably Jerry and Clyde Korsak. There was enough money to keep a bigshot like Teddy Hammer sticking around. He was back in the courtroom for the third day, second row from the rear, left side, a regular vulture. Praying for a conviction to keep Simon on the sideline for years to come.
The Commonwealth wanted to use Clement to further its theory that Simon became convinced his client was wealthy; thus, the motive to use her estate as a vehicle to collect some fat fees. In Simon’s opinion, that motive had already been established.
The next witness piled on. Dirk Wheeler had been subpoenaed by the prosecutor and reluctantly took the stand. Cora established that he was a lawyer in D.C. and had gone to law school with the defendant. They were old friends who kept in touch.