Directed Verdict (Failed Justice Book 1) (8 page)

CHAPTER 12

Angelo DeAngelo was not adverse to a few white lies. Maybe not so white. After all, he was a lawyer. He was a negligence lawyer. In fact, he was a perpetual ambulance chaser, the worst of the very worst.

In every insurance claims office in Newark was a small flyer in the coffee room.

BEWARE—Picture of negligence scum bags. Next to it was a photo of Angelo D. DeAngelo. He was that well known.

When the call came in from Mr. DeAngelo, bells and whistles went off in the adjuster’s head. DeAngelo never, never settled until he could squeeze the last buck out of the defendant, usually on the courthouse steps. If DeAngelo wanted to settle now, his case had to be in the crapper…or worse.

Charlie Whitehead, the old time insurance adjuster for LCI, Lawyers Co-op Insurance, agreed to meet with Angelo. Why not? He had nothing to lose. Besides, he couldn’t wait to hear Angelo’s latest fantasy.

The only question to be answered was, who wanted their money more? Angelo or Anthony. For Attorney Angelo DeAngelo, he had a file cabinet full of questionable cases. For Anthony Pauli Ricardo, it was his one and only chance at the brass ring.

If Alexey had any say, he would soon play a major role in the outcome.

***

“How would you like to study abroad for a year? Say in Barcelona or Paris.”

Vicky knew her father like a well-worn book. It was a bribe to stay out of the mess and he wasn’t even subtle about it.

“
Papa,
when I find out why, I’ll go anywhere you send me. For now, I need to know the reason why the judge didn’t believe me. Why did he do what he did? It wasn’t my fault and everyone in that courtroom knew it. So why did the judge let him walk?”

Alexey did not have the answer. Yet.

“Give me some time, my little
dorogaya.”

Vicky did not respond. Like her father, she did not like to be placated. She wanted answers.

“Soon,
Papa,
soon.”

“Da.”

***

Anthony had no choice but to believe. He knew DeAngelo was stalling. He also knew if there was no settlement by the end of the week, Angelo DeAngelo would have one less client.

Anthony was afraid to go home. He was afraid of what his mother would say and do once she found the big, brown bag and what was in it. He had nowhere to go. He checked, he had less than ninety bucks in his wallet. He turned around and walked back to DeAngelo’s office. Anthony had a plan and nothing to lose.

At times, it’s difficult, if not impossible, to say no.

***

Vicky wanted to know everything her papa was doing. Her father felt it was best if she knew nothing. It was called deniability. She could never be sworn to testify what she had not actually heard, did not actually see, did not actually know. Supposition was merely an educated guess. It was not fact and clearly not admissible in a court of law. Vicky reluctantly agreed.

Then she did as she damn well pleased. She was more like her papa than either of them would ever acknowledge.

***

“I can’t. I simply can’t do that. Not only is it unethical; it’s against the law.”

Anthony refused to budge. He was not about to leave without what he came for.

“Since when did that ever bother you? The reason I came to you in the first place was because of your reputation. Not as a great lawyer, but a shyster that could always make a fast buck. You told me the case was worth fifty thousand at trial; at least thirty thousand for a quick settlement. Assuming you weren’t lying then, I would walk away with twenty and you would end up with ten.”

Anthony could see DeAngelo’s eyes shifting and his mind calculating.

“Now I’m willing to reverse the split. You end up with twenty, I get my ten. Today.”

Again, Anthony was watching the greedy eyes of his own lawyer.

“I could get disbarred.”

“But you won’t. You’re too smart not to get away with it. Let me sign a blank general release form right now, you pay me my ten today and whatever you can squeeze out of the insurance company is all yours. Wait a month or two and settle for thirty-five. You then put twenty-five in your own pocket and no one will ever know the difference.”

DeAngelo’s eyes said yes before his mouth had a chance to say no.

Fifteen minutes later Anthony signed the blank release form and DeAngelo signed the check made payable to Anthony for ten grand. A win/win situation for both of them.

“Nice doing business with you, Mr. DeAngelo. Have a nice day.”

Anthony practically ran to the bank on two good legs to cash the check.

I’m rich. I’m rich. Now I can get the hell out of this stinking town.

DeAngelo was trying to decide if he would wait before he made his final demand on the insurance company. He was thinking somewhere around thirty-five to forty. That would put a tidy twenty-five or more in his pocket. The poor dumb client would never know.

Angelo DeAngelo was feeling very proud of himself. Maybe he would convince other clients who were desperate to do the same thing.

Why, I can double my income almost overnight,
he thought.

CHAPTER 13

Bill Johnson now had his first solid lead. Through divorce court records he found out the name of Judge Kolkolski’s ex-wife. It was Bernice Sophie Kolkolski. He had heard she’d moved to southern Florida—probably Miami, where she had some relatives. Bill then checked all records of Florida Power and Light and found three customers with the name Bernice Kolkolski.

One of them had to be the judge’s ex.

Using a scam as a bill collector trying to locate a Judge Walter Kolkolski for an overdue credit card bill, Bernice was only too quick to confirm he was her ex-husband, a sitting court judge in New Jersey who at times was late on his bills. As far as she knew, and she had not seen or heard from him in years, he was still in Newark and worked in the courthouse.

When Bill inquired if this was the same man who had a son by the name of Theodore, Bernice abruptly hung up.

Bill had no idea why.

He needed to talk to Theodore. He could help solve the puzzle. For now he had other things to do. Things IBM was paying him to do.

***

The phone call got Bernice wondering. As she told the bill collector, she had not had any contact with Wally since the divorce was final. That had to be more than twelve, fifteen years ago. And why did the caller ask about Teddy? He had been dead for eleven years. Eleven years, three months, and five days. But who was counting?

Where was Wally then? Surely he could have pulled some strings or found a judge who was willing to listen and bend the rules, like she knew he had done. For the right price, rules can always be broken. Wally taught me that way back when.

Bernice thought about calling Wally. She wasn’t sure why. It was a gut feeling.

All these years. What would I say? And why now do I want to call?

The phone rang again. It was a neighbor reminding her of a luncheon appointment, and all thoughts of Wally were promptly forgotten.

At least for the present.

***

Approximately one thousand eighty-nine miles to the north, Judge K was preparing to return from his aborted vacation. As he walked the few short blocks from his apartment to the courthouse, he never saw the black sedan that was a half block behind him. It was the last thing on his mind. It shouldn’t have been.

The sky was threatening to rain; Wally kept his head down and was wearing an old fedora. As he recalled, Bernice bought it for him years and years ago. He could never bring himself to get rid of it. He had no idea why.

When he was in Miami last week, or was it now two weeks ago, he thought about Bernice. He didn’t have her phone number. As far as he knew, she had never remarried or gone back to her maiden name. He wanted to call and find out how she was doing. Maybe grab a cup of coffee. After all these years, it made no sense. Besides, she would probably just hang up on him—again.

***

There was a note on his desk when he entered his old chambers. It looked official. It was from the Chief Justice. He wanted to see Wally before noon. Probably to discuss his new calendar and what cases would be reassigned to him. Same old, same old, he assumed.

Recently Wally had been making a great deal of faulty assumptions. This was just the latest.

“Coffee?”

“No thanks.”

Wally could feel the tension in the air. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

The Chief Judge was fumbling, looking for some papers. Obviously he was stalling. This was not good. Not good at all.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Chief Justice?”

Wally had not used that formal title since he was first introduced to Steven Saltmeyer.

“No, Wally. It’s just that for the time being, until things quiet down, you will be assigned civil cases only. I assume you understand.”

“No. No, I don’t understand. I have handled criminal cases here for the past ten years, probably more. What’s the problem now?”

Steve Saltmeyer took a deep breath, something he always did before a task he felt distasteful.

“Wally, you are the only judge in this district in the past ten years to grant a directed verdict as far as I can tell. In fact, in the past six years, you have granted the motion four times. In every single incident, it was a rape case. In every case, the jury believed the complainant and only you believed the accused. It just doesn’t make sense. Why, Wally? What were you thinking?

I was thinking of my late son Teddy. I was thinking of an overzealous prosecutor who needed a conviction ten days before Election Day. I was thinking of how he was convicted because some little girl was afraid to tell her father she had consensual sex with Teddy. I was thinking how he got shanked and died in the prison shower, you pompous son of a bitch. That’s what I was thinking.

“Sir, I did what I thought was right. The facts simply did not call for a conviction. I did what I was paid to do and I would do it again under the same circumstances. Does that answer your question, Mr. Chief Justice?”

It appeared all the air had been sucked out of the room. No one said a word, each waiting for the other to apologize.

“Will there be anything else, Mr. Chief Justice?”

“No, Wally, that appears to be it. I’ll have your new assignments sent over to you after lunch. You will be assigned to civil cases only for the time being. I assume you enjoyed your vacation and had some time to think and relax.”

Wally did not respond. Had he said what he was thinking, he would have had all the time in the word to think and relax. Maybe till the day he died.

Without a goodbye, acknowledgement, or thank you, Judge K got up and left the room.

***

By the time his assignment list had been received, every clerk in the entire courthouse knew Judge Kolkolski was on the Chief Justice’s shit list. By nine the next morning, half the criminal bar knew Judge Kolkolski would not be trying their cases.

Robert Samuel Sugarman was not pleased. This had always been his ace in the hole.

Anthony Pauli Ricardo decided not to follow through on the criminal charges against his former attorney. There was nothing in it for him. Besides, the civil case had already been settled as far as he was concerned. Why waste time in court for no good reason?

The DA had no choice but to move to dismiss. The judge granted the motion, as if he had a choice, but not before embarrassing Bob Sugarman in open court by suggesting there had to be a better way to handle clients than by breaking their legs.

Everyone laughed. Bob did not think it was funny.

He said nothing. He would have been held in contempt of court had the judge been able to read his thoughts.

Now I have to find a new rabbi.

Bob was referring to the term used by many, meaning one who could be relied upon and could quietly help in an awkward situation. He had no one in mind. The very last thing he thought about was the black sedan that was following him that day.

It shouldn’t have been. The occupants of the black sedan had been busy.