Page 18 of The Proving Ground

The Masons were already on the move. I fell in behind them andwe wound our way through the clerk’s corral and through the door into a short hallway that led to Judge Ruhlin’s private chambers. The judge was seated at a round table in front of a floor-to-ceiling wall of shelves containing leather-bound copies of US codes and laws. The volumes were strictly decor, since everything could easily be found and read online. In the corner behind her, the court stenographer sat poised to record the in camera session.

“Gentlemen, sit down,” she ordered. “Mr. Haller, I want you in that seat.”

She pointed to the chair directly across the table from her. She would be flanked by the Masons, but her eyes would be on me.

“We are still on the record,” Ruhlin said. “But now that we are out of earshot of the media, there is no need for posturing or playing to the audience. Mr. Haller, tell us what you know and how you know it.”

I cleared my throat to gain a couple extra seconds to compose a response.

“Your Honor,” I began, “I received your ruling on the motion regarding Mr. Patel this morning by email, as I am sure defense counsel did as well. It was my guess that defense counsel and Tidalwaiv would appeal the ruling and seek a stay preventing me from taking Mr. Patel’s deposition. It has been clear from the start that they did not want me talking to this man, because he knew of the company’s malfeasance and—”

“Mr. Haller,” Ruhlin interrupted, “I said no posturing. Tell me what you know and how you came to know it.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” I said. “So, knowing what their move was likely to be, and in an effort to beat the filing of that appeal, my investigator, Dennis Wojciechowski—do you want me to spell his name?”

“Not necessary,” Ruhlin said. “We have it. Go on.”

“Cisco and I went to Mr. Patel’s—”

“Wait, who is Cisco?” Ruhlin asked.

“Sorry, Cisco is Dennis,” I said. “It’s his nickname. Anyway, Dennis Wojciechowski and I went to Mr. Patel’s home in Venice this morning in an effort to talk to him before an appeal was filed and any sort of stay was granted.”

Marcus Mason shook his head condescendingly.

“Perfectly legal—some might even say it was good lawyering,” I said.

I threw a condescending look back at him.

“Anyway, we went there,” I continued. “We found his front door open, and after knocking and calling out his name, we went in. We searched through the house and found him in a bedroom. Dead. We then called the police. Two patrol officers and their sergeant responded to the call and went into the house. When they came out, the sergeant judged the death suspicious and called out a homicide team. We stayed till the investigators arrived and told them what we knew, including that Mr. Patel was a witness in this case. And then we left.”

No one said anything. I tried to fill the void.

“While we were waiting for the detectives, my office manager contacted me and told me the appeal had been filed and that the court had scheduled a hearing on the stay. I came directly from Venice to the courthouse once the detectives cleared us to leave the crime scene.”

Ruhlin twiddled the pen she had been writing occasional notes with during my telling of the story.

“I saw your investigator in the courtroom,” she said. “If I brought him in here, would he tell the same story?”

“Of course he would,” I said. “Do you want me to go get him?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary yet,” the judge said. “Did the investigators tell you what was suspicious about the death?”

“No, Judge,” I answered. “But I have their names if you wish to reach out to them.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary either,” Ruhlin said. “I have my clerk confirming that there is an investigation. Misters Mason, do you wish to be heard?”

Marcus Mason nodded emphatically.

“Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Haller tells a good story but he leaves out key details. First of all, when he says the door was open, we have it on good authority that that was not the case. The door was not open, as he claims, and he and his investigator broke into the house and—”

“That’s a lie,” I interjected. “When I said the door was open, I meant it was unlocked. We found it unlocked and went in when—”

“Mr. Haller, you had your turn,” the judge said. “Do not interrupt opposing counsel. Continue, Mr. Mason.”

“As I was saying,” Mason said, “Mr. Haller’s claims in the courtroom as well as in here are exaggerated. Yes, there is an investigation of Mr. Patel’s death, but it is being investigated as a suicide that occurred as long ago as last week—before there was even a hearing on whether Patel could be a witness. Mr. Haller knew this and yet he chose in open court, with the media as his audience, to spread a completely false narrative he hoped would be carried by the media into the jury pool.”

The judge flashed suspicious eyes at me.