J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 03 - No Time To Hide (27 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTY

The testimony resumed with the same formality and rituals that had occurred over the previous days. People stood as Judge Husk was led carefully to his chair by his loyal law clerk. The jurors returned to the same seats that they had occupied over the past week, and Michael and Quentin waited for Judge Husk to begin.

“Good morning,” Judge Husk smiled at the jurors with a hint of sympathy. “I hope you got the coffee and doughnuts that I brought in this morning. If not, they should be waiting for you in the jury conference room at our first mid-morning break.”

The jurors nodded. The judge, at this point, had become their wise grandfather, another flock of converts to the Cult of Husk.

The judge turned back to the attorneys.

“We are back on the record in the United States versus Michael Collins. As you all may recall, we took a break yesterday afternoon at the conclusion of Ms. Gadd’s direct examination of Ms. Krane. Now it’s time to give the def
ense an opportunity to ask its questions.”

Judge Husk nodded toward Quentin. Then the judge looked past the attorneys to the people in the gallery, scanning for Brea Krane.

“Ms. Krane,” Judge Husk said a little louder. “Ms. Krane, if you could return to the witness stand, we shall continue.”

Brea Krane sat in the back next to Tad Garvin.

Tad Garvin watched her as she stood and walked up to the front of the courtroom. The Cook Island accounts had been created for her. Garvin assumed that she had received the money transfer from Michael Collins and Andie Larone, because she told him that her flight out of the country left later that evening.

H
e was anxious for his afternoon reward. She had promised him that. One little gift before she left, and he hoped that he’d also get an invitation to come along. 

Brea sat down in the witness stand. She had changed her outfit. It was a dark blue dress, not quite black but almost. It was conservative, so as not to offend the women on the jury, but it still showed off her form for the male jurors.

Once she had settled, Judge Husk continued.

“Ms. Krane, you are still under oath and still obligated to tell the whole truth. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Brea Krane nodded her head, and Michael noticed a very slight smile.

Then Judge Husk motioned for Quentin Robinson to begin.

Go slow, Michael thought. He stared at Quentin, wishing that he could do it. He didn’t want to be the client. He didn’t want to be the person being defended. He wanted to the be the attorney, but it was out of his control.

His freedom was in the hands of Quentin Robinson.

Please don’t mess it up.

###

Quentin stood at the podium. He looked down at the notes and questions that Michael had prepared for him
along with some of his own. Quentin’s heart pounded and he wondered if others could hear it as well or maybe see his hands tremble. It was nerves.

This wasn’t his first jury trial. He’d represented hundreds of people as a poverty lawyer. Quentin had hustled deals. He had walked the fuzzy ethical line that all defense attorneys walk. But this was different. The stakes were higher. Michael wasn’t a homeless man accused of public urination. Michael Collins was a friend who was about to get away with stealing over $500 million and he, defender of the poor, had helped
him in exchange for a roll of gold coins.

“Everything okay?” Judge Husk tilted his head to the side, wondering why Quentin hadn’t started his inquiry.

“Yes,” Quentin nodded. He took a deep breath, trying to catch himself. He turned to Brea Krane.

“Good morning, Ms. Krane. As you know, I’m Quentin Robinson. I represent Michael Collins in this matter.”

“I know who you are.” Brea Krane provided the requisite hostility.

“Very well,” Quentin looked down at his notes again. “I’m not exactly sure why the prosecutor, Ms. Gadd, called you in her case in chief.” Quentin glanced over his shoulder at Brenda Gadd, and then back to Brea Krane. “Because you’re
my
star witness. Did you know that?”

Gadd was on her feet before Brea Krane could respond.

“Objection, Your Honor.”

Judge Husk perked up. The old man had been getting bored. This was starting to get entertaining.

“Grounds?”

“Irrelevant, speculation, badgering.” Gadd shook her head. “I could go on.”

Judge Husk looked at Quentin, a sparkle in his eyes. Michael could tell that Judge Husk would give Quentin some room, if for no other reason than for sport. The trial had been so lopsided up until this point that the jury would’ve likely only deliberated for five minutes before returning a guilty verdict.

“Overruled. I’ll allow counsel to present
its defense. But let’s get to the meat of the matter, shall we?”  

“Yes, Your Honor.” Quentin bowed his head slightly. “I’ll withdraw the question.”

He turned his attention back to Brea Krane, who now looked slightly uncomfortable.

“You’re my star witness, because you know that Michael Collins did not steal this money, true?”

“Are you kidding?” Brea laughed. “I think the documents …”

Quentin held up his hand, interrupting her.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Quentin took a step to the side. His nerves were under control now. He’d found a rhythm, and, as he paused, Kermit and Andie snuck into the back of the courtroom to watch the show.

Quentin looked at the jurors, scanning their faces, adding to the drama of the moment. This was what jurors expected defense lawyers to do, and he was going to exceed their expectations.

“Let me pose the question another way.” Quentin scratched his chin. “Michael Collins never admitted to you that he stole the money, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“And you don’t dispute that your father worked with Michael Collins and other attorneys at Wabash, Kramer and Moore, true?”

Brea Krane didn’t answer, and she didn’t have to.

“Lowell Moore and Michael Collins were the lead attorneys for your father, correct?”

“That’s true.”

“And Michael Collins was there with your father on the night he was killed. He was likely the last person to see your father while your father was still alive —”

“Object, Your Honor.” Gadd was on her feet. “This is speculation. Ms. Krane can’t testify to this. She wasn’t there.”

Quentin turned to Gadd, pointing.

“Exactly!” he shouted before Judge Husk could rule. “I withdraw the question, and I’ll ask this.” Quentin turned back to Brea Krane. “You weren’t there the night your father was killed. Isn’t that right?”

Brea Krane nodded.

“Correct.” She tried to force some tears in order to slow Quentin down, but Quentin wasn’t going to stop. She didn’t know where this was headed, and Brea now regretted her decision to stop talking with Andie Larone.

“And you weren’t there in the meetings between Lowell Moore, Michael Collins, and your father, true?”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Brea Krane looked at Michael. “He took my money.”

Quentin paused. He shook his head and looked at the jurors, and then back at Brea Krane. 

“Whose money?”

Brea started, but stopped herself.

“Perhaps the court reporter could read that last bit back to us.” Quentin looked at the court reporter. He nodded at her, directing the court reporter to read back the exchange.

She took the narrow roll of paper that fed into her stenography machine, and then brought it toward her to read:

Question
: You weren’t there the night your father was killed. Isn’t that right?

Answer
: Yes.

Question
: And you weren’t there in the meetings between Lowell Moore,

Michael Collins, and your father, true?

Answer
: What does this have to do with anything? He took my money.

Quentin nodded and thanked the court reporter.

“In your mind, it’s your money. Isn’t that right?”

“It’s my family’s money,” Brea tried to recover.

“And you want it, right? Who wouldn’t want a half-billion?”

“It’s my family’s money,” Brea repeated, avoiding the question.

“As a family member, you’ve had meetings with the prosecution and the investigators throughout this case. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been kept apprised of the progress of this case. Isn’t that right?”

“We have,” Brea nodded, nervous.

“You are represented by Mr. Tad Garvin. He’s an attorney at Franklin and Uckley, is that right?”

Brea hesitated, and then answered.

“Yes.”

“He represents your family and he has provided corporate documents and other information to the government, on behalf of your family, to the government. Right?”

Brea shrugged. She looked
at Tad Garvin for direction. He nodded, and so she answered. “Yes. That’s correct.”

“And you sent Mr. Garvin down to Mexico, where Michael Collins has been living openly over the past few years, isn’t that right?”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Brea said.

“Are you denying that Mr. Garvin went down to meet with Michael Collins on your behalf shortly before this indictment was issued?”

Michael was going to provide a complete story. He didn’t want a hung jury. He wanted a not-guilty verdict. He needed double jeopardy to apply, a complete bar toward the government prosecuting him again. And he didn’t care if Brea Krane was damaged in the process.

He watch
ed as Brea’s mood changed, now looking concerned. It wasn’t an act.

Brenda Gadd had stood and objected, the objection was sustained.

Judge Husk looked at Quentin.

“She testified that she didn’t know,” Husk said.

“Fine,” Quentin waved it off. “But if I were to say I have a security video of Tad Garvin at the Sunset Resort with Michael Collins just a few weeks prior to his arrest.” Quentin held up a silver DVD, as if to prove that the video existed. “You don’t dispute that, correct?”

“Objection,” Brenda Gadd rose, again, with a little less confidence this time.

“Overruled,” Judge Husk turned toward Brea Krane and nodded. “You can answer.”

“If you have a video, I don’t dispute it, but I can’t verify it either.”

“Right,” Quentin nodded, preparing himself to drop the bomb. “And at that meeting, Michael Collins explained to your attorney that he would not release the money in the trust account to you, correct?”

“Objection, Your Honor. She wasn’t there.”

Judge Husk’s eyes narrowed.

“Sustained.” He bit his lower lip, and then looked at his law clerk. The judge was about to call for a recess, but Quentin didn’t let him. The older judge’s reflexes were a little too slow to cut him off.

“Michael Collins is the trustee for a trust that your father created, correct? A lawful trust to which he was and still is the administrator.”

Brea shook her head.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You were frustrated because, as the trustee of this account, Michael Collins would not release the money to you, correct?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brea looked, again, at Brenda Gadd, her eyes begged the prosecutor to stop the questioning.

“And so, you sent a lawyer to reason with him, and Michael refused to deal with you, and in retaliation, your brother went down to the Sunset Resort and tried to burn it down?”

Gadd was on her feet now, screaming an objection. Murmurs and whispers rolled over the courtroom.

“And then you tried one last time to intimidate Mr. Collins and his friends —”

Judge Husk pounded his gavel.

“Okay, Mr. Robinson. That’s enough.” The courtroom was silent, waiting to see how Judge Husk would react.

The judge remained cool. He closed his eyes, never raising his voice. The silence held the courtroom still. Then he broke the peace with a calm suggestion.

“I think it’s time for our morning break.”

Judge Husk opened his eyes and looked at the jurors.

“Remember your oath and instructions. You are not to discuss this case or any aspect of this case at this time. This court stands in recess.”

Judge Husk placed his hand on the bench, and pulled himself up. “All rise for the jury as they exit.”

The jurors filed out of the courtroom. They all watched, and then once the jurors were gone, Judge Husk turned his attention back to the attorneys and sighed.

“Looks like we have something to talk about. Mr. Robinson is now going to explain to me why we don’t have a mistrial on our hands.”