“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.