Capitol Murder (25 page)

When the maítre d’ was almost at his booth, Schatz slid out to greet his guest.

“Miss Cutler,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m so glad you could join me. Have you eaten here before?”

Schatz knew damn well she hadn’t.

“I’m more of a McDonald’s girl. When I think of French, I think of fries.”

Schatz smiled. “Then you’re in for a treat.”

They sat, and the maître d’ presented Dana with a menu. Schatz was nursing a glass of bourbon, and Dana ordered a glass of scotch before turning to the menu. She didn’t recognize a third of the items on it. Schatz noticed her furrowed brow.

“I eat here regularly, and I know what they do best,” he said. “Would you permit me to order for you?”

“Sure,” Dana said, relieved that she wouldn’t have to guess what was going to arrive at the table after she ordered.

“Let’s get business out of the way so we can enjoy our meal,” he said as soon as the waiter left. “Unless you’ve been living in a cave in the Gobi Desert, you know that the FBI has arrested several people charged with trying to blow up FedEx Field.”

“The four men who were working as vendors.”

Schatz nodded. “I’ve got number five, and he’s an interesting fellow. I guess his most interesting feature is that he’s been dead for six years.”

Their appetizers came when Schatz was halfway through briefing Dana on what he’d found out about Ron Tolliver/Steve Reynolds. He finished when the main course arrived.

“I assume you asked me to dinner to see if I want to investigate Tolliver’s case.”

“Exactly.”

“You never asked me to work for you before. Why now?”

“Several reasons. First, I’m a big fan of your investigative reporting. It took guts to break the Farrington case, but it took smarts, too. This latest series on Jack Carson only served to increase my admiration for your work.

“Second, I’ve been told you’re no-nonsense and never give up. That’s what a few of your former clients said about you when I did my due diligence. All the comments were laudatory, by the way. No complaints.

“It’s the fact that ‘tough’ was used by so many of them that convinced me to call you. You’re going to need a thick skin if you take on this assignment.”

“I’ll be quite honest with you, Mr. Schatz . . .”

“Call me Bobby.”

“Okay, Bobby. If I had to choose between helping Tolliver’s defense and shooting him in the head, I’d choose to put that gutless terrorist in the ground.”

“You
are
a tough guy, but don’t forget that the state will do your work for you if Tolliver is convicted.”

“If he tried to kill all those innocent people, I don’t want to spend my time trying to keep him off death row.”

Schatz’s head bobbed up and down. “You may not believe this, but I share your sentiments about terrorists. If Ron Tolliver is guilty of participating in the plot to blow up the Redskins’ stadium he deserves anything he gets. But you’re missing the point.”

“Don’t give me that ‘Innocent until proven guilty’ bullshit.”

“Ah, but it’s not bullshit.”

Dana smirked. Schatz raised his hand.

“Hear me out. When we broke free from the British, the colonists believed that government could be evil because they had been oppressed by a dictatorial government that did not respect their rights. People were imprisoned for political reasons, their homes were searched on the whim of a government official; they had no faith in the fairness of the judicial process. That lack of faith led to revolution.

“There are many, many countries in this world where the rule of law does not exist. Those are the countries where fear and violence are a common part of everyone’s life and the people rise up and overthrow the government. America is different. We don’t believe in revolution. We believe that differences with our government should and, most important, can be resolved in a court of law. That is why it is so important to give the best trial to the most heinous criminals, the criminals we would all execute personally without blinking an eye. When average citizens see these monsters receive due process, it reaffirms their belief that if they or their loved ones were ever arrested for shoplifting or driving under the influence, the system would treat them fairly.”

Dana smiled. “Now I see why you win so many acquittals. But I am curious. You have an investigator, right?”

Schatz nodded. “Ben Mallory.”

“Then why not use him?”

“Normally, I do use Ben to investigate my cases. We’ve been together for years, and he’s a terrific investigator. But Ben’s brother was working in the Twin Towers on 9/11, and he didn’t make it. Ben just couldn’t bring himself to work on this case, and I couldn’t ask him to do it. That’s why I need you, Miss Cutler, and I’m willing to pay top dollar to get you on board.

“If Ron Tolliver goes down, it should be because the government convinces twelve citizens that there are no reasonable doubts about his guilt and not because his lawyer was stuck with a mediocre investigator who missed evidence that pointed toward his innocence. What do you say?”

Chapter Thirty-eight

D
ana entered the elegant reception area of Bobby Schatz’s law office at 9:00 on the dot. Everything from the original oils on the wall to the expensive Persian carpet and fine furniture told potential clients that they better be able to afford a six-figure retainer if they wanted Schatz to represent them.

The receptionist was stunning in an understated way that was more
Vogue
than
Penthouse
. She flashed a perfect smile as Dana approached her desk.

“Good morning, Miss Cutler,” she said before Dana could introduce herself. “My name is Cassie. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to see Mr. Schatz. He’s expecting you.”

Dana followed Cassie down a narrow hall past the open doors of offices occupied by earnest young men and women Dana assumed were Schatz’s associates. Dana turned down an offer of tea or coffee before Cassie ushered her into her boss’s corner office. As expected, there was a wall of fame displaying headlines from the attorney’s most famous cases, as well as framed awards and pictures of Schatz with movie actors, television personalities, presidents, and lesser but well-known politicians. The windows behind Schatz presented a view of the Capitol dome at one end of the Mall and the White House at the other.

“Sit. We’ve got a busy morning ahead of us and only a little time for me to brief you,” Schatz said. Dana liked the fact that there was no small talk. “In one half hour, you and I are going to walk over to the Department of Justice to have the pleasure of having our balls busted by Deputy Assistant Attorney General Terry Crawford, who is heading up the prosecution of our client. I will hand him motions for discovery, and he will laugh at us and treat us like shit, while making no effort to disguise the pure joy he gets out of trampling on the constitutional and statutory rights of those unfortunate enough to find themselves in the federal criminal injustice system.”

“It sounds like you’ve dealt with Crawford before.”

“Many times, unfortunately. Terry is a complete asshole, but you should never underestimate him. He is also very smart and very, very cunning. The only saving grace of having him as an opponent is that he is so driven to screw all defense attorneys that he occasionally makes mistakes.”

“If you know we’re not going to accomplish anything, why do you want me along?”

“Do you have a good memory, Dana?”

“It’s decent.”

“Good, because your job will be to observe. While we are with Terry, or any of his cronies, let me do the talking. You do the listening. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that Terry will do something as a result of his zeal that may, in the future, lead to a motion charging him with prosecutorial misconduct. If I file such a motion, I’ll need witnesses.”

“You got it. So when do I get to interview our client?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Dana frowned. “Some of the best leads I’ve gotten have come from the defendant.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but Ron is off-limits to you.”

“And why is that?”

“Ron Tolliver does not trust anyone. I’ve tried to get him to talk to me about the case, and he refuses.”

“Why don’t you let me give it a shot?”

“Maybe later, but I’m trying to build rapport with him. I also want him to see me as his only point of contact with the world outside his prison. And don’t worry; you’ll have plenty of tasks that will occupy your time.”

Schatz glanced at his diamond-studded gold Rolex. “It’s time to enter the dragon’s den, Cutler. Put on your armor and follow me.”

“S
triker, grab a pad and pen and come to my office,” Terrence Crawford barked over the intercom.

Ginny had been arranging thousands of pages of investigative reports into neat piles before punching holes in them so they would fit into a three-ring binder. She had been at this task for three days and was so relieved to escape from it that she was actually grateful to Crawford, who had been treating her like a secretary when he wasn’t ignoring her.

Ginny started to ask Crawford what he wanted her to do, but the intercom went dead. Ginny sighed and pulled a yellow legal pad out of the bottom drawer of her desk. When she reached Crawford’s office, he was reading a brief.

“Sit,” he said, pointing at a chair in a corner of the room without looking up.

Ginny waited for Crawford to explain why he had summoned her. When five minutes passed, Ginny had had enough.

“What is it you want me to do, Mr. Crawford?”

The deputy AG looked at Ginny as if he hadn’t realized she was in the room. Then he directed a malicious smile at her.

“In five minutes, Bobby Schatz is going to come in here and demand all sorts of things, which I am not going to give him. When he comes to grips with the fact that I’m not going to budge, Schatz is going to run to court and accuse me of everything from pederasty to rape. As with any accused, I will fare better in court if I can produce a witness who can testify that I did none of the acts Schatz will dream up.”

Ginny was about to reply when Crawford’s intercom buzzed and his secretary announced the arrival of Schatz and his investigator. Crawford told her to send them in. A moment later, the door swung open and the secretary stood aside to admit Bobby Schatz. A second later, Dana Cutler followed him into the office. Crawford was looking at Schatz, or he would have seen Ginny’s jaw drop. Dana’s eyes locked in on her friend, but her expression gave away none of the surprise she felt.

“Hey, Bobby, come on in,” Crawford said as he walked around his desk and shook hands.

“Thanks, Terry. I’d like you to meet my investigator, Dana Cutler.”

“A pleasure.”

Crawford did not introduce Ginny, but he did motion Schatz and Dana toward a comfortable couch that stood against the wall under a framed copy of the Constitution.

“So, Bobby, what can I do for you?” Crawford asked as soon as he’d retaken his seat.

“I’m interested in discovery, Terry. For starters, I’d appreciate a look at the affidavit you used to get the warrant to search my client’s house.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you there.”

“Why not? I’m entitled to see it, and I’ll need to read it if I’m going to challenge the search.”

“My problem is that I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of such warrants.”

“You’re joking!”

“The Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act is no joke, Bobby. If a search warrant affidavit for Tolliver’s house was obtained from the FISA court, it would be classified, and I wouldn’t be able to even acknowledge its existence.”

“If you’re going to use evidence from the search you conducted using a FISA warrant, you have to tell me.”

Crawford shrugged. “It’s early days, Bobby. I have no idea what evidence I’m going to use.”

“Stop screwing around. You know a Federal District Court judge is going to tell you to give me the affidavit. We’re talking about the Fourth Amendment here.”

“Maybe a judge will agree with you. File a motion and we’ll hash this out in court. But I seem to remember hearing that there isn’t a single case where a FISA affidavit has been disclosed to a defense attorney.” Crawford grinned. “Maybe you’ll set a precedent. What else would you like?”

“I’d like to see the statements made by the four men who were arrested at FedEx Field.”

“I’m not at liberty to confirm or deny that such men exist.”

“Terry, pictures of the arrest have been on YouTube, Facebook, CNN, and every media outlet in America and abroad.”

“Then serve a motion for discovery on YouTube.”

“Cute, but you know this is bullshit,” Schatz said.

“Hey, I don’t make the rules. Call your congressman and get him to repeal FISA. Me, I’m just an employee of the federal government, and my boss tells me I have to follow the law, which does not allow me to confirm or deny the existence of these so-called arrestees.”

“Can you give me the names of their attorneys?” Schatz asked.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

“This isn’t a game, Terry. My client is facing serious jail time.”

Crawford sat up and leaned forward. His face was tight and his body language signaled that he had shifted from taunting Schatz to real anger.

“We lost three thousand people on 9/11. There were over ninety thousand people in FedEx Field on Sunday, and your client wanted to kill them all, so I won’t be too upset if he has to serve serious jail time.”

“You’re assuming he had some part in the plot.”

“Oh, he did.”

“You haven’t told me one thing that leads me to believe he was involved with the suicide bombers.”

Crawford got hold of his emotions and leaned back in his chair. “You’ll get discovery at the appropriate time and not a second before. If you don’t like my position, file a motion.”

Schatz looked as though he was about to say something else, but he changed his mind and stood up.

“Thanks for taking the time to see us,” he said.

“Sorry I couldn’t be more help,” Crawford lied.