Beyond Reasonable Doubt (Keera Duggan), page 5
Patsy gestured to the jurors. “Which meant what?”
“Sirus agreed to train me, transform me into a confident, competent, and capable chief executive officer.”
“How?”
“We were together twenty-four seven. Working dinners, mostly in the office, sometimes out at restaurants. Sirus soon dictated just about everything I did from the moment I awoke in the morning. My workout schedule. What I ate. What I wore. My makeup. My hairstyle. My investment pitch. He had everything printed out. He said it was needed to convince investors to invest their millions in PDRT. I welcomed the tutelage. I wanted to succeed. I wanted PDRT to succeed. So much was riding on it succeeding.”
“At some point did Sirus’s instruction become overbearing?”
Another pause. Jenna blew out a burst of air. “Sirus asked me to move in. He said we didn’t have enough hours in the day to do everything that needed to be done. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do. I’d have my own bedroom, bathroom, and office. We could commute to and from work together and discuss the day’s strategy.”
“At some point did things change?”
Jenna lowered her gaze to her hands. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Honest-to-God beads of water. “Yes. We became lovers.”
“You did this willingly?”
“I thought I did. I mean . . . he never physically forced himself on me. We were working so many hours, I didn’t have time for a relationship outside the office, and Sirus had said such a relationship could jeopardize the company.”
“So, he dictated your love life as well?”
“In a sense I guess he did.”
“Did your relationship change?”
“His prodding became more intense. If I overslept and missed my workout, he chastised me as lazy and called me fat. He would tell me I wore too much makeup. He would pull food away from me and tell me I had enough.”
Walker Thompson stood yet again, his interruption like someone walking into a bedroom at an intimate moment. The jurors frowned. “Objection, Your Honor. Again, I fail to see the relevance in any of this.”
But Keera did see the relevance. She had a good idea where Patsy was going. It was brilliant. It was Patsy thinking outside the legal box to implode Walker Thompson’s case. Unorthodox and highly unusual, but brilliant. Patsy was laying the groundwork, Keera assumed, to have a mitigation specialist testify that Sirus Kohl, significantly older and experienced in business, had psychologically preyed on Jenna and PDRT, that he had targeted the company and had led Jenna into a personal relationship to control her. In chess terms, Patsy would argue Kohl made Jenna his pawn. In legal terms, it was called the “Svengali defense.” It had saved the life of Lee Boyd Malvo—whose attorney argued Malvo had been under the control of John Muhammad in the 2002 DC sniper shootings. It also saved the life of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, brother of Tamerlan Tsarnaev, responsible for the Boston Marathon bombings. But in both cases the defense was made during each trial’s penalty phase, after both men had been convicted. Patsy was using it to explain to the jury how Jenna, the CEO, could not have known the LINK was unable to do what she was representing to investors—because Kohl had completely isolated her and compartmentalized the information she received, which was only through him.
Keera wanted to step forward and tell Thompson what was happening, but she couldn’t.
She couldn’t bring herself to do that to her father.
Judge Lubbock fixed his gaze on Patsy the way a person might stare at an impressionist painting, recognizing, if not understanding, the artist’s brilliance. “Overruled. You may continue, Counsel.”
“Jenna,” Patsy said. “Did PDRT’s investors or board of directors know of your and Sirus’s relationship?”
“I don’t believe so. The board would have considered it unprofessional and harmful to the company’s overall reputation and credibility.”
Jenna explained that if she and Kohl had a bitter split, it could create a toxic work environment, a conflict of interest, and influence their professional judgment and decision-making, compromising fairness and objectivity. As CEO and COO, she and Sirus had a fiduciary obligation to act in the best interests of the board members and investors.
“So . . . Jenna, knowing all of this . . . the potential impact to a company you started, your dream, why would you enter into that relationship?”
Thompson again stood and made the same objection, and this time Patsy used it against him to make a point. Patsy stepped forward and spoke as if perplexed by the objection. “Your Honor, this line of inquiry will prove to the jurors why my client did not know the LINK could not do the things she was representing, and therefore she had no animus to kill Erik Wei.”
“Your Honor, she clearly has testified what Erik Wei told her that evening, that the LINK could not do the things she was representing, which the State contends is all the animus she needed to kill him.”
“Both of you can refrain from giving your closing arguments,” Judge Lubbock said. “Mr. Duggan, this has gotten far afield in the liability phase.”
“Then I will pull it back into the infield, Your Honor.”
“Do so,” Lubbock said. “Or I will cut you off.”
Patsy returned to Jenna Bernstein. “How is it the CEO of a start-up was not privy to Erik Wei’s concerns prior to the evening you and he met at the restaurant?”
Here we go, Keera thought.
“All employee emails and text messages were on a private company server monitored by Sirus. Employees were repeatedly told all emails and text messages were to go through him. Sirus told me this was to prevent employees from disclosing company trade secrets or other corporate espionage. Sirus controlled the flow of information.”
“But, as counsel for the State has just pointed out, you did meet Erik Wei, and he told you the LINK was nowhere near human trials or ready for regulatory review.”
Jenna explained she was in the process of securing additional financing and Wei’s threat would have killed her efforts. Patsy played the video from inside the restaurant. In it, Jenna abruptly pushed back her chair, nearly toppling it, and departed.
“You left in a hurry,” Patsy said in his understated, deadpan demeanor that caused many in the courtroom to smile, including the jurors. “Where did you go?”
“I went to confront Sirus about what Erik had told me.”
“Was Sirus upset?”
“Very.”
“Who invested the most money in PDRT?” Patsy asked. “Who had the most to lose?”
Jenna sat forward, with a look like she had just realized the purpose of Patsy’s questions, but it was an act. She’d known the purpose all along.
“Sirus Kohl,” she said.
Chapter 5
Seattle, Washington
Present Day
Jenna and John Bernstein sat across the conference room table from Ella, who gave Keera a look, the way a mother might disapprove of her daughter’s date attire. Keera wasn’t thrilled with her choices either, not with Jenna dressed in an expensive, royal-blue, St. John pantsuit, pearls draping her neck and earlobes. Keera had worn casual clothes to spite Maggie, but the joke was on her.
“Mr. Bernstein. Jenna,” Keera said, trying to sound pleasant and unconcerned. She’d followed Jenna’s career from afar, curious but never convinced. More than once, a spark of jealousy hit her, but each time it did, so did a spark of doubt. She kept thinking it was all too good to be true, as it always had been with Jenna. Turned out PDRT was much, much more than too good to be true. Jenna’s trial for the murder of Erik Wei had revealed the mammoth fraud PDRT perpetrated on investors and on the general public; a fraud Erik Wei had been prepared to expose, until someone shot him. Most in the prosecutor’s office, including Keera, believed Jenna got away with murder.
After hanging up the phone with Maggie, Keera had run a search on Jenna Bernstein and Sirus Kohl on her laptop and learned that Kohl had been shot in his home on Capitol Hill. The article didn’t say Jenna was a suspect, but clearly she was. The significant other was always a suspect, and the previous trial had revealed Jenna and Sirus Kohl to have been more than business partners.
And why else would Jenna be here, in her defense attorney’s offices?
Mr. Bernstein came around the conference room table in slacks, a sport coat, and an open-collar shirt. Jenna’s height came from her father, who was at least six four, but now showed the rolls of middle age. “I think we can do away with ‘Mr. Bernstein,’ Keera.” He bent to give her a hug. “You’re not a young girl anymore. Call me ‘John.’”
Jenna followed her father. She, too, bent down, but unlike her father, she did so as if it took great effort to lower herself to Keera’s level. The two exchanged an uncomfortable hug.
In school, Jenna had used her height and figure to intimidate or to entice. Her blonde hair, blue eyes, and curves turned heads everywhere she went. Men assumed she was older than her actual age, a notion she did not try to dissuade when it was to her advantage. It usually was. Jenna and Keera had competed for top grades to be their high school class valedictorian, an honor bestowed on Jenna after Keera received a B+ and Jenna an A in AP Calculus. Some said Jenna had cheated off Christy Johnson, who went on to MIT the following year, but like the murder of Erik Wei, the rumor could not be proven.
“How are you?” Jenna asked, sounding as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “I heard you worked for Patsy now. We read about the Vince LaRussa trial. Horrible it turned out so poorly.”
A backhanded acknowledgment—never a compliment—and a subtle dig. Not that Jenna’s assessment wasn’t accurate, given what transpired following the LaRussa not guilty verdict.
“Why don’t we all sit down,” Patsy said. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table. Keera shifted over and took the seat. Patsy hesitated before moving to sit beside Ella. Jenna and John Bernstein returned to their seats. Behind them, the western-facing conference room windows provided a view of Elliott Bay and the V-shaped wakes left by ferries and pleasure boats. Framing the vista were the snow-covered Olympic Mountains.
“This is a nightmare, Patsy. It’s déjà vu,” John said, wasting no time. Unlike Jenna, he looked harried and sounded upset. Sitting through the criminal trial of his daughter accused of murder had taken a toll. In addition to the extra weight, his hair had thinned and turned white. Worry lines etched the corners of his eyes and mouth. Now Jenna faced federal charges by the US Attorney for fraud and conspiracy, a white-collar crime not within Patsy’s or Keera’s expertise. Something else was going on, and Keera suspected that “something” had to do with Sirus Kohl’s death.
Keera looked at Patsy’s hands. He’d developed a tremor since giving up drinking, and now he often kept his hands folded in his lap. “What’s going on?” she asked.
Jenna answered. “The police came to my condominium today.”
“Why?” she asked. She wanted to hear from Jenna what had happened.
Jenna arched her eyebrows. “You haven’t read the paper or heard the news this morning?”
“I was just about to leave on vacation,” Keera said, not wanting to admit she was staying home. “So . . .”
“Sirus Kohl was shot to death in the house he rented on Capitol Hill,” Ella said.
“The police came and asked me questions,” Jenna said. She didn’t look or sound concerned or upset.
“What questions?” Keera asked.
“Where was I last night and early this morning? Could anyone vouch for my whereabouts? Did I own a gun?”
“You didn’t respond,” Keera said.
Jenna shook her head. “The only thing I said was ‘If you have questions, speak to my attorney.’ I gave them Patsy’s name. Then I called—”
Keera raised her hand and cut Jenna off. “Don’t say another word.”
Together, Jenna and John Bernstein said, “What? Why?”
Ella lowered the pen she’d been using to take notes.
“If the police consider you a suspect in Sirus Kohl’s death, and they wouldn’t be asking you questions if they didn’t, then you are here for our professional help—”
“I don’t know if—” Jenna said.
“It hasn’t gotten that far,” John said.
“It doesn’t matter. If Jenna is here now for our professional advice, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave the room, Mr. Bernstein.”
“What?” Jenna and her father said again in unison.
“You can’t be in here. Jenna’s an adult, and the attorney-client privilege does not extend to a parent. If you remain in the room, anything Jenna says to us will be discoverable by the State, should there be any further court proceedings.”
“She’s right,” Ella said to Patsy. She looked chagrined she hadn’t considered the issue.
John Bernstein also directed his attention to Patsy, who appeared embarrassed. “Patsy, we can work around this; can’t we? If it ever gets that far. I mean, I’d just say I wasn’t in the room.”
“No,” Keera said, retaking control. “That would be a lie. Under oath it would be perjury. Patsy and I would be ethically obligated to prevent you from saying that.”
“This is ridiculous,” John said, again looking to Patsy.
“It’s not, John,” Patsy said.
Jenna’s gaze remained fixed on Keera. She looked as though she was searching for a solution to the problem, a way to one-up Keera.
Not this time.
Jenna smiled faintly and gently touched her father’s arm. “It’s okay, Dad.” John turned to his daughter. “Keera is an attorney, and if she says that’s the law, then we have to abide by it. She’s only trying to be of help.”
John looked again to Patsy, who said, “I’ll have Maggie take you down to the Paddy Wagon. You can have a cup of coffee and something to eat.”
“I’ll leave,” John Bernstein said, getting to his feet, “but I won’t eat.” He walked around the table. “They can’t stop Jenna from telling me everything discussed once we leave; can they?” His rhetorical question made him sound like a petulant child.
“That’s up to you and Jenna,” Keera said. “But if she does, neither of you should tell us. We also have an obligation not to allow Jenna to perjure herself, if she’s ever asked under oath if she revealed our advice to anyone.”
Again, Jenna gave Keera a glacial stare.
Patsy escorted John Bernstein to the door. “Come on, John, Maggie will take good care of you.”
Ella closed her notebook. “And I’ve got calls to make and other matters to attend. Now that Keera is here, you’re in good hands.”
The two men and Ella left the room, leaving Jenna and Keera alone, as when they were children. With Jenna being an only child, and Keera’s siblings out of the house before Keera hit double digits, the two had seemed a perfect fit to be friends, then Jenna shattered that illusion.
Now, the two women forced smiles across the table, but Keera knew Jenna wasn’t happy. This conference room, and the law, were Keera’s domain. The wonder kid who was going to change the world did not control this situation, as she had always sought to do when the two were younger.
And not being in control had always bothered Jenna.
“It’s been a long time,” Jenna said.
“Since the winter of our freshmen year in college, I think. When we went skiing,” Keera said. It was intended as a piercing comment, but if the arrow struck, Jenna didn’t flinch.
“No. I saw you in the courtroom during my trial,” Jenna countered.
Keera knew Jenna had seen her, though she’d never acknowledged Keera’s presence. “As a prosecutor I was prohibited from interacting with you—or Patsy for that matter.”
“I forgot you were a prosecutor,” Jenna said, then revealed she hadn’t. “You had a relationship, I believe, with someone in the office, an older man?”
Keera had no idea how Jenna knew of her failed relationship with Miller Ambrose that led to her exit from the prosecutor’s office, but she had always been adept at finding out and using a person’s vulnerable information.
“I was so grateful to Patsy for everything he did for me in the Erik Wei trial. He was magnificent,” Jenna said.
“Is magnificent.”
“Of course.”
“Did you get the detectives’ names who came to speak to you?” Keera asked.
“I have their cards.” Jenna removed two cards from a small purse, placed them faceup on the table, and slid them to Keera.
Billy Ford and Ian Bressler.
“Do you know them?” Jenna asked.
Keera nodded. “They’re good detectives.” But that wasn’t her first thought. Her first thought was that Billy Ford was Frank Rossi’s partner. Or had been. She wondered what was up.
“Honest?”
“I don’t follow.”
“If they learn a suspect is innocent, will they go away, or persist like the two detectives in the Erik Wei matter?”
“They’re honest . . . if they’re certain the person is innocent.”
The conference room door opened. Patsy smiled as he entered, but it was forced. “Well, he isn’t happy, but I think I got him settled down.”
“Thank you, Patsy. I know my father will take your counsel,” Jenna said.
Never subtle.
“Has Jenna filled you in on the morning’s events?” Patsy asked, retaking his seat.
“Not yet,” Keera said. “But before you do, Jenna, is it your intention to retain Duggan & Associates to assist you in this matter, should it go further?”
