Directed Verdict (34 page)

For his part, Ahmed was already seated at the defense counsel table, looking away from her and talking to the interpreter. He acted like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Halfway down the aisle, she felt a tug at her elbow. She turned and encountered the squat face of a man who had been with Ahmed every day of the trial, either a bodyguard or some type of private investigator.

“You dropped this,” he said, stooping to retrieve an envelope from the floor.

As he handed it to her, she was too stunned to think or talk or do anything except take the envelope, fire off a reproving look, and hustle to her seat.

They had contacted her in the middle of the courtroom! In broad daylight! Within spitting distance of Brad Carson and within plain sight of her colleagues.

She slumped in her chair and stared at Ahmed’s back, willing him to look so she could scold him with her eyes. When he didn’t, she sat up and hunched over a document, slipping the envelope open in front of her. Ahmed’s cryptic note was not the answer she expected. Things were spinning out of control.

Until she had the escrow agreement with a hundred million tucked away in a Swiss bank account, the only thing keeping her alive was the promise that she could keep Shelhorse from testifying and sway juror number six in the deliberations. These were no small matters, but she was also smart enough to realize that if Ichabod granted the motion for a directed verdict, Ahmed would no longer need her services. She would be expendable. A liability. She reviewed again the plans she had made for such a contingency and waited for Ichabod to return to the bench.

She took one last look at Ahmed, who suddenly turned and stared back. Narrow eyes. Lasers drilling through her. The smirk was gone.

Ahmed was all business.

* * *

When court resumed, Strobel was ready. Before starting his argument, he handed the judge and Brad a copy of a forty-five-page brief setting forth the reasons why Ichabod should dismiss the jury and enter a directed verdict for the defendant.

For nearly an hour he argued his case, referring the court to the appropriate passages in his brief and supplementing his written submission with a passionate oral plea.

Ichabod listened intently and asked no questions.

Brad sank in his seat. He had not expected the motion to be taken so seriously. The blow could be fatal. So much for his chauvinistic gut. He could not look either Leslie or Nikki in the eye.

Brad and Leslie took turns responding to Strobel’s undeniably strong submission. Unlike Strobel, they had no written brief to give the court. Unlike Strobel, they did not experience Ichabod’s silence. She peppered them with questions, interruptions, and sneers. She thought out loud about every reason that would justify dismissing the case and sending everyone home.

But at the end of their argument, Ichabod simply postponed her decision.

“Counsel,” she announced, “this motion has strong merit, and the cases cited in Mr. Strobel’s brief appear to be on point. Nevertheless, I want to act cautiously as I make my decision. Accordingly, we will recess for the rest of the day so that I can do my own research. Mr. Carson, I would have been better prepared for this motion, but I didn’t realize your case would end quite so abruptly. I will be prepared to announce my decision tomorrow morning.”

Ichabod stood to leave the courtroom.

“All rise,” the court clerk demanded.

* * *

Before leaving, Judge Baker-Kline stole a quick glance at a worried Brad Carson, who looked pale, tired, and beaten.
This will teach him,
she said to herself.

35

JUDGE BAKER-KLINE ENJOYED THE THEATER
of the courtroom, particularly when she took center stage. On Thursday, she entered her packed court with her robe flowing behind her and a legal pad tucked under her arm. All eyes followed her as she took her seat and prepared to announce her ruling. She paused to look over the top of her glasses at Brad Carson and his team. His eyes were sad and bloodshot, deep wrinkles creasing his forehead. She had made him sweat it out; now she would do what she had intended to do all along.

“I have before me a defense motion for a directed verdict. By his motion, Mr. Strobel is requesting that I dismiss the jury and direct a verdict in favor of both the individual defendant, Mr. Aberijan, and the codefendant, the nation of Saudi Arabia. In considering this motion, the standard is clear. To grant the motion I must find that no reasonable jury could find in favor of the plaintiff on this evidence.”

She hesitated for effect. And she looked down at the lawyers, who held their collective breath. She locked on to Win Mackenzie, seated directly behind Ahmed. He was ready for the payoff. She could see it in his eyes.

“I am
not
prepared to say that a reasonable jury could not find in favor of Sarah Reed against Mr. Aberijan. On the contrary, a jury could easily find the testimony of Sarah Reed, Dr. Rydell, and other plaintiff’s witnesses to be credible testimony in providing evidence that Mr. Aberijan at the very least injected both Sarah Reed and her husband with cocaine in order to justify an arrest. A reasonable jury could very well conclude that an overdose of cocaine was a contributing factor in the death of Charles Reed. A reasonable jury could believe Sarah Reed when she testified that Mr. Aberijan, in essence, ordered his men to rape her. And a reasonable jury could believe that the only reason the rape did not happen is because Sarah Reed resisted so violently that she was knocked unconscious before this heinous act could occur. In short, Counsel, I am denying the motion insofar as it pertains to Mr. Aberijan.”

Sarah, Brad, Leslie, and Nikki let out a collective sigh of relief. The sad, long face of Brad broke into a small smile.

Baker-Kline, however, was not finished. “With regard to the codefendant, the nation of Saudi Arabia, I find this to be a much more difficult call. Frankly, I have listened to day after day of testimony and have yet to hear anything that convinces me that the nation of Saudi Arabia authorized Mr. Aberijan’s conduct either before or after the night in question. I still have some doubts as to whether Mr. Aberijan even did the awful things he is accused of doing. But I have no doubt that if higher-ups in the Saudi government were aware of such conduct, they would have ended it immediately.”

She glanced up from her papers again, catching a hopeful look from Mackenzie.

“Nevertheless, the appellate courts caution us against granting directed-verdict motions without hearing the entire case. I am not sure if anything would change my mind on this matter, but I will reserve my judgment until I hear all the evidence from both sides. I am therefore denying Mr. Strobel’s motion at this time, but I am also issuing a very strong warning to plaintiff’s counsel that I am not yet convinced that the plaintiff should recover even one dollar from Saudi Arabia.

“You may bring the jury into the courtroom, and we will hear Mr. Strobel’s case.”

* * *

Carson and his associates had dodged a bullet. He and Leslie smiled broadly. He took her hand under the table and squeezed it.

Nikki, who was sitting at the far end of the table, couldn’t resist responding more verbally. “Yes!” she whispered loud enough for everyone in the first three rows to hear. Sarah looked toward the ceiling and mouthed a silent thank-you.

The celebration was short-lived. Within minutes, Strobel called his first witness, and it was time for Sarah and her lawyers to face the best defense that money could buy.

* * *

For the first two days of his case, Strobel trotted out character witnesses who vouched for Ahmed Aberijan’s credibility. These witnesses seemed to come out of the woodwork, and all swore that Ahmed was a devout Muslim who would rather die than lie. Each was prepared to give specific examples of his fairness and truthfulness, but each was prohibited by the federal rules and Judge Baker-Kline from doing so. Although the process was cumbersome and the testimony became bogged down in translation, the cumulative effect was still strong.

Friday afternoon, just before court adjourned for the weekend, Strobel dimmed the lights and played the videotaped testimony of the former church members.

The jury leaned forward and listened raptly as Tariq Abdul testified that he and his wife had been members of the Reed’s drug operation. They heard Tariq describe the volatile temper of Charles Reed and the strong-arm tactics the Reeds used to get Muslim children to convert to Christianity. They heard Tariq describe the drug use by the Reeds and other members of the church. And they saw the token cross-examination conducted by the timid Sa’id el Khamin.

All afternoon the jurors kept their eyes glued to the portable television screen. And during the fifth videotaped deposition, the jury seemed especially intrigued by the cross-examination conducted by Brad Carson. Some jurors even wrote down the final few questions and answers.

“Did you ever smoke crack cocaine, or did you ever see the Reeds smoke crack cocaine?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes what? Sometimes you smoked crack, or sometimes the Reeds did, or both?”

“Sometimes the Reeds did. They tried to get me to do it, but I wouldn’t.”

“Explain the process of how they would prepare the crack and then smoke it.”

There was a long pause and a slow, calculated answer. “Because I wouldn’t join them in smoking crack, I never actually saw them do it. I know they did smoke crack because I saw them heating the cocaine and preparing the crack.”

“How did they heat it? How hot?”

Another pause was followed by another evasive answer. “It is a complicated process that I cannot describe. I believe temperatures would be very hot—more than 250 degrees.”

“One final question. When you snorted cocaine, how long did it take before you felt the rush, and how long did it last?”

“I would get a huge rush right away, and I wouldn’t come down for hours.”

“That’s exactly what I thought. No further questions,” Brad said as the tape faded to black.

Strobel was apparently not content to let the jury think about the cross-examination of Omar Khartoum all weekend. He asked if they could at least begin the videotape of Rasheed Berjein.

“How long is his testimony?” the judge asked.

“Less than two hours,” Strobel promised.

Baker-Kline deliberated for a moment. Her reputation as a no-nonsense, workaholic judge was on the line. In a high-profile case like this one, her work habits could reach legendary status if she played her cards right.

“Mr. Strobel, I will not only let you start his videotaped testimony tonight, but I will also require that you play that testimony in its entirety. This type of firsthand testimony is too important to break up.”

Several jurors crossed their arms and scowled. Before long, however, the testimony of Rasheed transfixed them.

The jury watched unblinking as Rasheed handled every question Brad threw at him. You could almost feel the momentum in the case shifting ever so slightly with every condemning word Rasheed spoke. After a fast-paced ninety minutes, the screen again faded to black.

Judge Baker-Kline decided to punish the jurors for their sulking about the late working hours and at the same time impress the world with the speed of the “rocket docket.” And so, at 6:30 on Friday night, she announced that court would begin Monday promptly at 8 a.m. and conclude no earlier than 6 p.m. In fact, the judge said, the entire week would proceed in that fashion, and she expected Strobel to rest his case by the next weekend. She saw no reason why they could not have closing arguments a week from Monday, thus allowing the jury to begin deliberations later that same day.

It was not a matter open for debate, and it was a good thing. Many of the jurors looked like they were ready to revolt at the first opportunity. By judicial fiat, Baker-Kline had kept everyone late and thrown day care arrangements and other weekend plans into chaos, thus imposing a great burden on the only people in the courtroom who were not being well paid for showing up.

36

THE WEEKEND FLEW BY,
leaving Brad and Leslie no time to focus on each other. Instead, they worked with Nikki and Bella around the clock to prepare for a full week of Strobel’s hired guns—the expert witnesses. They knew that Strobel would not disappoint.

Mack Strobel started bright and early Monday morning with the medical experts. His first witness, who was sworn in promptly at 8 a.m., was a world-class toxicologist. For two hours he wowed the jury with charts and videos, educated them about the effects of cocaine use, and described the toxicological testing for the drug. In a polite way, the witness said that Dr. Jeffrey Rydell was either lying or misinformed about his toxicological analysis. There was no way, according to this expert witness, to tell from the lab data whether the cocaine in the blood had been injected, snorted, or smoked.

Brad and Leslie had already decided on the theme for their cross-examination, and Leslie wasted no time in getting to the point.

“Doctor, what is your hourly rate for this testimony?”

“I am not charging for my testimony. But I do bill my services as an expert at $350 per hour.”

Leslie looked at the jury and saw eyes popping out. They each received twenty dollars a day in jury pay.

“And you also charge a premium when you testify, don’t you, Doctor? Tell the jury what that number is.”

“Four hundred per hour.”

Leslie thought she heard one of the jurors let out a soft whistle.

“And you also have a minimum charge per day, don’t you? In other words, whether you work five hours a day or not, if you pick up the file and travel on a case, your client pays you two thousand dollars for that day. Correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Leslie shook her head almost imperceptibly, emitted a nearly silent “wow,” then started in on the rest of the expert’s testimony. For the next hour or so, she chipped away at his foundation, bit by bit, piece by piece. She concluded by asking for an estimate of the total amount he had billed Kilgore & Strobel to date.

“About twenty-three thousand dollars,” the expert replied.

“And one last thing, Doctor,” Leslie said as she returned to her counsel table and turned around. It was a move she had seen Brad do many times. “You never actually treated either Charles or Sarah Reed, like Dr. Jeffrey Rydell did. Correct? I mean, your opinions are based on a cold and impersonal review of the records.”

“That’s right,” the expert responded.

Leslie harrumphed and sat down. She stared impassively ahead as the expert stepped down. Under the table she softly slapped Brad’s palm.

Strobel followed his toxicologist with a well-paid and well-known cardiovascular surgeon. This expert testified in detail about all the weaknesses of Charles Reed’s heart caused by advanced hardening of the arteries. He told the jury that other issues probably impacted Charles Reed’s poor health, including extended use of cocaine. He further opined that Charles Reed would have died on the night in question from a heart attack, with or without the cocaine in his body. In laymen’s terms, it was a bad heart, not cocaine, that killed Charles Reed.

To nobody’s surprise, the cardiologist hauled down more for his testimony than the toxicologist. And to nobody’s surprise, Brad Carson explored all the details of his compensation on cross-examination. This expert actually charged five hundred dollars per hour for his time, and he reminded Brad that he could make more if he stayed in surgery and didn’t mess with the lawyers. Brad got the man to admit that he had billed Strobel a total of forty-five thousand dollars to date and, like the toxicologist, charged a minimum per-day fee. Brad acted surprised to discover that the cardiologist did not bill a premium for time spent in court. Just before returning to his seat, Brad suggested that the witness might want to add that little trick for his next case. The jury laughed, and from the looks on their faces, they did not appreciate Ichabod’s prompt and stern lecture on courtroom decorum.

The parade of highly paid experts continued for two days. An expert in international human rights praised the Saudis’ continuing improvement in the area of religious freedom. He charged only $250 per hour and clearly had a thing or two to learn from the doctors.

An expert in police tactics testified that Ahmed and his gang did everything by the book in dealing with the drug-crazed conduct of Charles and Sarah Reed. He was Strobel’s best bargain, charging only $150 per hour, but he made up in volume what he lacked in price. Even Leslie was stunned to learn that he had managed to bill Strobel more than fifty thousand dollars for services to date.

Experts in intergovernmental relationships testified that the Saudis had already been held accountable for their conduct as a result of the scathing report issued by the Senate Foreign Affairs Committee. These experts were in the middle range, billing around $250 per hour. By the time their cross-examinations were completed, however, it was clear that if Strobel gave them a dime, he gave them too much.

* * *

While Brad and Leslie grilled the expert witnesses, Nikki was en route to Saudi Arabia. If successful, she would help Rasheed and Mobara gain political asylum through the U.S. Embassy, and she would have Rasheed prepared to take the stand as a rebuttal witness the following Monday. Brad believed Strobel might finish his case on Friday morning. Brad’s own toxicologist, Dr. Nancy Shelhorse, would be called as a rebuttal witness and take the remainder of the day on Friday. It was critical, Brad told Nikki, that Rasheed and Mobara not arrive in the United States any earlier than necessary in order to maximize the element of surprise and thwart any attempts by Ahmed to intimidate or coerce the Berjeins.

Brad and Nikki carefully prepared the documents requesting political asylum, explaining the circumstances of the
Reed
case and documenting the threats against Rasheed and Mobara if they testified truthfully. Upon her arrival in Saudi Arabia, Nikki would also obtain, from Sa’id el Khamin, a videotape through which Sa’id outlined the circumstances of the case and the reasons why political asylum would be appropriate for the young couple.

Nikki flew out of Washington late Wednesday evening. She would meet Sa’id Thursday to prepare the final details of the application and take Rasheed and Mobara to the embassy late on Friday afternoon. If all went according to plan, Nikki and the Berjeins would leave Riyadh together late Friday night and be on American soil by early Saturday morning.

* * *

The Moreno girl has left the country.

Ahmed read Barnes’s note during the experts’ testimony. Within twelve hours, he was headed for Saudi Arabia in his private jet. Something was afoot with the Berjeins. If they attempted to help the plaintiffs, Ahmed would personally preside over their executions, even if it meant he had to miss two days of expert witness testimony to do it.

* * *

Nikki’s first meeting with Sa’id transpired right on schedule. By late Thursday morning, Riyadh time, they had finalized the asylum petition. Rasheed and Mobara would join them at Sa’id’s office the next day at five o’clock, and they would all head to the Embassy together. Sa’id was confident the petition would be granted.

Late Thursday night, Nikki went to a pay phone in the hotel lobby and phoned Bella to inquire about the trial.

“Brad told you not to use the phones,” Bella chided her. “O’Malley says they might be tapped.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, use your BlackBerry next time. O’Malley tells me those doohickeys are as good as a phone, even over there. They’re safer anyway.”

“Takes too long,” Nikki said. “And besides, I can’t get reception here.”

“Is everything all right with Rasheed and Mobara?” Nikki heard concern in Bella’s voice. An unauthorized phone call usually didn’t portend good news.

“Everything’s on schedule,” Nikki assured her. “How’s the trial going?”

“I ate lunch with Brad and Sarah, but I’ve been at the office since. They said it was more of the same. One high-paid expert after another. Strobel apparently told Ichabod that he would finish tomorrow morning. We’ll put Shelhorse on as a rebuttal witness tomorrow afternoon and then Rasheed on Monday.”

“Any chance that Ichabod will hold court on Saturday?”

“She hasn’t mentioned it, and I think she would make a lot of jurors upset if she did. We’re safe betting on Monday.”

“With Ichabod you never know. Is Brad sure he can stretch Shelhorse out through the entire afternoon on Friday? I mean, if he gets done early, we would have to rest our case without putting on Rasheed.”

“Don’t worry, Nikki. Brad said he’s got six hours of questions for Shelhorse if he needs ’em.” Bella was starting to sound defensive.

Nikki had what she needed. “Give my best to Brad and Leslie,” she said.

“Okay. Be careful, Nikki.”

“Right. Careful’s my middle name.”

Nikki hung up and looked at her watch. It was now 10:30 on Thursday night in Riyadh. She was eight hours ahead of Norfolk time. She checked her notes and phone numbers. The timing would be critical. And the timing would be tight. Everything would have to work just as she had planned.

* * *

O’Malley had planted his own bugs in the phones at Carson & Associates on Wednesday night while he supposedly swept the office for bugs. He monitored the calls all day Thursday. He took his cue from the phone call between Nikki and Bella.

He stopped by Carson & Associates a few minutes later. He greeted Bella and began his rounds, letting her know he would be checking each phone. When he was finished, he declared the office clean and told Bella that he had a few hours to kill. He talked her into going to court with him to watch some of the afternoon testimony. Anything she had to do at the office, he assured her, could wait.

They rode to court together, and for a few minutes they enjoyed watching Brad get after another one of Strobel’s expert witnesses. But suddenly O’Malley remembered that he was running late for an appointment. Bella assured him she could get a ride back to the office with the trial team at the end of the day.

* * *

Dr. Nancy Shelhorse enjoyed her work as an expert witness. Toxicology, her daily work, could be dry stuff. The same could not be said of serving as an expert in a high-profile case. And the pay wasn’t bad, either.

Shelhorse had once heard a lawyer describe a perfect expert witness as a glib person with a résumé and a suitcase. She qualified on all three counts. Shelhorse was a natural teacher, serving as an adjunct at the University of Richmond Medical School and teaching clinical courses to residents. She also had the credentials. She was experienced and board certified, and she had published enough peer-reviewed articles to bring down several trees. And in this case, like so many others, she was testifying outside the Richmond area, where she lived and practiced medicine. For some strange reason, lawyers and juries seemed to believe that nobody could be an expert unless they traveled great distances to testify or at the very least were not one of the “locals.”

She was not just qualified; she was also prepared. The prior night she had driven two hours to Norfolk so she could spend another night rehearsing her testimony with Brad and Leslie. They had run through several mock cross-examinations, but the lawyers couldn’t put a dent in her testimony. Brad finally declared her bulletproof and sent her back to Richmond. She planned to return again tomorrow—Friday morning—and wait in the hallway outside the courtroom until she was called to testify. She was looking forward to it; she had so much to say.

For that reason, the message she received at the hospital at 3:30 on Thursday afternoon was both a disappointment and a surprise. Her assistant said someone from Brad Carson’s office had called and indicated they might not need her to testify after all. According to the caller, she should check her e-mail as soon as possible, where she would find a full explanation.

Anxious to know what was happening, and knowing it would take thirty minutes to get from the hospital to her office, Shelhorse asked her assistant to log on and retrieve any messages from Carson & Associates.

“Here’s what it says, Doctor: ‘We are truly sorry for the short notice and the change in plans, but the trial has taken some interesting twists this afternoon. As a result, we will not need your testimony. In fact, we believe the defendants will try to contact you and somehow subpoena you and force you to testify. This would be very damaging to our case.

“‘You have done nothing wrong. But this is a complicated and unexpected occurrence that could greatly work to our advantage so long as you cannot be found or forced to take the stand. Accordingly, we will pay for your full day tomorrow at your customary hourly rate, but we would ask that you find a secluded place for all of tomorrow and Saturday, do not tell ANYONE where you are going, and do not communicate with anyone until Saturday night.

“‘We can assure you that there is no subpoena for you to testify as a witness at this time. But please do not attempt to contact us after you receive this message. If Mr. Strobel is granted a court subpoena for your appearance, and you call us, we would be forced to disclose your whereabouts. I know that this is an extraordinary request, and we would not make it if it were not absolutely necessary. Thanks for your understanding. We will be in a position to explain fully our strategic reason for doing this when we call you on Sunday.’

“And then at the bottom, there’s a note that says ‘From the Handheld BlackBerry Device of Nikki Moreno, Legal Assistant, Carson & Associates.’”

Shelhorse was shocked. It took her a minute to gather her thoughts.

“Are you still there?” her assistant asked.

“Does this make sense to you?” Shelhorse responded.

“Not really. But I don’t understand how trials work very well, either.”

“When was the message received?”

“The header says 2:47 this afternoon.”

Shelhorse thought about the implications. She was insulted to think that the defendants somehow thought they could now turn her testimony to their own advantage. She saw her moment in the spotlight slipping away, her escape from monotony closing off, her expected career boost imploding.