Accused (51 page)

"Mr. Madden, what was your relationship to Trey Rawlins?"

"I was his agent."

"And how long did you serve in such a role?"

"Almost two years."

"Did you know Rebecca Fenney?"

"Yes."

"Do you think Trey Rawlins loved her?"

"Yes, I do."

"Were you aware of Trey's affairs with other tour women?"

"No, I was not."

"Were you aware of his cocaine use?"

"Yes."

"Were you aware that he owed money to his drug dealer?"

"No."

"Were you aware of his gambling habit?"

"Yes."

"Were you aware of his fifteen-million-dollar debt to Las Vegas casinos?"

"No."

"Did you suspect he owed a gambling debt?"

"Yes."

"And how did you think he was repaying that debt?"

"By throwing golf tournaments."

"And what made you think that?"

"He missed short putts and lost two tournaments."

"Do you suspect that the mob killed Trey Rawlins over that debt?"

"Yes."

"But if he were repaying his debts, why would the mob kill him?"

"Because he made a long putt to win a tournament he was supposed to lose. I think it cost the mob millions."

The D.A. asked the same question. "Mr. Madden, did Trey Rawlins ever tell you that he was going to marry Rebecca Fenney?"

"No, he did not."

Brad Dickey, Vice President-Player Development for Golf-a-zon.com, testified that he had bet the company on Trey Rawlins only to discover that he used cocaine. The company wanted to terminate his contract, but legal counsel had advised that termination would subject the company to a breach of contract suit. Under the contract, the company owed Trey ten million dollars plus incentives. If word got out about Trey's drug use, the company would go bankrupt.

"Trey's death saved our company. But we didn't kill him."

He, too, had never heard Trey express an intent to marry Rebecca.

Royce Ballard, the tour's VP-Player Relations, testified that the tour suspected Trey's drug abuse but could not suspend him because his drug tests came back negative. The tour brass wanted him off the pro golf tour, but he had no knowledge of the circumstances of Trey's death.

The judge adjourned for the day.

"My money's on the father," Carlos said.

"Trey do my daughter," Louis said, "I might kill him, too."

"You don't have a daughter."

"If I did."

"Hell, you had a daughter, boys be scared to come around her."

"Good."

An hour later, Carlos and Louis were sitting on their surfboards out in the Gulf. It was a nice way to end the day. Carlos waved to Boo and Pajamae on shore.

"You hear the boss might be a federal judge?"

"He'd be a good one. Treats folks fair."

"What are you gonna do then?"

"I'm thinking professional surfer."

"We are getting good at this, aren't we? But I don't expect anyone's gonna pay us to surf. What's your backup plan?"

"Whatever life brings me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Carlos, I don't worry about things like that 'cause I can't control things like that. It's like surfing. We don't create the wave and we can't control the wave. All we can do is ride the wave. We just trying to stay on top of the wave as long as we can and not get drowned by the wave. That's all life is—a big wave."

Carlos considered the big man's words a moment then said, "Louis, you're either the smartest man I've ever met or you don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

Louis chuckled. "I know there's a fine line between being one or the other."

Carlos looked back and saw a nice wave building.

"Here comes a good one."

But he saw something else. A big fin sticking out of the water.

"Oh, shit, Louis! A shark!"

Louis shook his head. "Don't start with me."

"I'm not kidding this time! It's a real goddamned shark! And it's coming right at us! Paddle, Louis! Fast!"

"I ain't falling for it this time."

Carlos dropped down and started paddling. Louis shrugged and followed. Carlos glanced back. The fin was almost to Louis.

"Faster, Louis!"

The wave came upon them, and they stood on their boards and rode that mother all the way to shore. Carlos crawled out of the water to dry sand and lay there on the beach. He had been sure the shark would eat them. He promised God he would never surf again.

"
¡Gracias a Dios!
"

He heard Boo's voice from above. "Wow, Carlos, you're getting pretty good at that surfing."

Scott was drinking a cold beer on the back deck and wondering why Carlos was hugging the sand when his cell phone rang. It was U.S. Senator George Armstrong.

"Scott, if you put Benito Estrada on the witness stand, you will never be a federal judge in the State of Texas as long as I'm a U.S. senator."

"Senator, I know about your daughter … your debt to Judge Morgan."

The senator's tone softened. "She's only twenty-two, Scott. I've put her in rehab twice, she relapsed each time. I've kept it quiet. If Benito tells the world she's a cokehead—"

"It won't be good for your political career."

"It won't be good for her. Scott, I'd give up my Senate seat today if I could get my daughter straight."

Scott believed him.

"Why would Benito mention your daughter?"

"He knows she's his one-time 'Get Out of Jail Free' card."

"So why would he waste it over my ex-wife?"

"Because you put him on national TV and tell the world he's a dealer for a Mexican cartel, his employer is liable to use him for fish bait."

FORTY-SIX

On the third day of trial, Scott Fenney stood and called Benito Estrada to the witness stand. Benito wore a white silk suit, crisp white shirt, and a white tie to court. He glowed under the fluorescent lights.

"Mr. Estrada, I understand that you are a distributor of pharmaceutical products, is that correct?"

"Pharmaceutical products?" A little smile. "Uh, yes, that is correct. I am a distributor of pharmaceutical products."

The jurors smiled, too. They might possess only high school educations, but they weren't stupid.

"And did you have occasion to sell pharmaceutical products to Trey Rawlins?"

"Yes, I did have that occasion."

"And did you allow Mr. Rawlins to purchase your products on credit?"

"Yes, I did."

"At the time of his death, how much did Mr. Rawlins owe you for products he had purchased from you?"

"Five hundred thousand dollars."

"And did he refuse to repay that sum?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He disputed delivery."

"He claimed he had not received the products?"

"That is correct."

"But you did make delivery, did you not?"

"I did make delivery. To his residence."

"And, subsequent to his death, did you learn that you were both correct?"

Benito sighed. "Yes."

"Why is that?"

"The products were stolen from his residence before he took possession."

"Mr. Estrada, what did you do about Mr. Rawlins' outstanding debt?"

"I referred him to our collections department."

"And where is your collections department located?"

"Nuevo Laredo."

"Mexico. So yours is an international operation?"

"Yes, very much so."

"And do you know if your collections department was able to secure payment of Mr. Rawlins' outstanding debt?"

"I do not know."

"Would you say that your collections department is aggressive in its collection efforts?"

"Aggressive? Yes. Very."

"Nonpayment is not an option?"

"No, it is not."

A common defense strategy is to preempt the prosecution. Rather than wait for the prosecution to present bad evidence about the defendant, a savvy defense lawyer will present it first, to lessen its impact on the jury. Of course, that strategy works only if the defendant has told the truth—at least to her lawyer.

"Mr. Estrada, have you ever met the defendant?"

Benito looked to Rebecca and smiled. "Yes, we have met."

"Did she recently come to your place of business?"

"Yes."

"And did she purchase pharmaceutical products from you?"

"Yes."

"And did she pay for those products by giving you her jewelry?"

Benito frowned, and Scott knew the strategy had backfired.

"Jewelry? What jewelry?"

"Thank you, Mr. Estrada. No further questions."

The D.A.'s head had been down during most of Benito's testimony. Scott now sat at the defense table, hoping the D.A. had missed the importance of Benito's last answer—but he knew Rex Truitt didn't miss anything.

The D.A. stood. "Mr. Estrada, do you know who killed Trey Rawlins?"

"No."

"No further questions."

The judge declared a short recess. After the courtroom had emptied, Scott turned to Rebecca. "You said you paid Benito with your jewelry. He doesn't know anything about any jewelry. Rebecca, if Rex had followed up on that, he could've shown the jury we lied to them. We said you had no money. But you paid Benito in cash. You have that mob money, don't you?"

"No!"

Scott needed to calm down, he needed to find Benito, and he needed to use the men's room. So he stood and went out into the corridor. Gabe and his goon were leaning against the windows. Renée sat in her booth; Scott walked over to her.

"Did you see Benito?"

She covered her microphone with her hand and whispered. "He left. Fast."

Scott continued down the hall to the men's room. He was standing at a urinal and thinking about Rebecca's latest lie when he zipped up and turned around and came face to face with Gabe's goon. And he realized that Louis hadn't followed him out of the courtroom.

"I guess I didn't make myself clear on the beach." The goon grabbed Scott by his shirt. "The Vegas boys don't want Gabe to testify."

A toilet flushed.

A stall door swung open, and Louis's massive body filled the opening. He stepped out and loomed large over Gabe's goon—and blocked his path to the door. The goon released Scott's shirt.

"Sorry, Mr. Fenney, nature called. Would you excuse us?"

Scott smiled at the goon and slipped past Louis and out the door. He walked back down the corridor to the courtroom. Gabe saw him and looked for his goon. But it was Louis walking down the corridor. Scott waited for him; they entered the courtroom together.

"Louis, I didn't see the goon leave."

"He left, Mr. Fenney. Through the window."

"But we're on the fourth floor."

"Yes, sir, we sure are."

"Mr. Petrocelli, what line of business are you in?"

Gabe wore a plaid sports coat over a knit shirt. "I own a bar on the Strand."

"Do you make book?"

"I make martinis."

"Did you know Trey Rawlins?"

"Yeah, I knew him."

"Were you aware of a debt Mr. Rawlins owed the Las Vegas casinos?"

"I heard of such a debt."

"And did you hear that that debt was fifteen million dollars?"

"I heard that number."

"And did you hear that Mr. Rawlins made an arrangement to repay that debt by intentionally losing several professional golf tournaments thereby allowing his creditors to win their bets on those tournaments?"

"I heard that."

"And did you hear—"

The D.A. stood. "Objection. Your Honor, I'm not a stickler on legal technicalities, but every time Mr. Fenney says 'hear' and the witness says 'heard' I think the witness' testimony might constitute hearsay, which would be inadmissible."

"Your Honor," Scott said, "asking if the witness 'heard' something is the same as asking if he 'knew' something. It's just a more agreeable way for me to phrase the question, isn't that right, Mr. Petrocelli?"

"Uh, yeah. That's right. It's more agreeable."

The judge turned to the witness. "Mr. Petrocelli, do you have personal knowledge of these matters?"

"Personal knowledge?"

"Did you personally see the instruments evidencing Mr. Rawlins' debt? Like a promissory note."