Page 40 of The Right to Remain

“What were you and CJ talking about when I got here?” asked Jack.

“Remember when we left Bayfront Park, and CJ said I was welcome to join his group? Turns out he was serious. I’m being recruited.”

“What did you tell him?”

“N-F-W.”

Theo grabbed a bottle of ketchup from the station. Jack stopped him before he could start back to the table, looking him in the eye.

“I want you to reconsider,” said Jack.

Theo scoffed. “You want me to join a bunch of left-wing lunatics led by a limousine liberal who thinks it’s his rightful place on this earth to save the black man?”

“Funny, you said the same thing about me when I became your lawyer on death row.”

“That was before I figured out you didn’t have a crusader’s bone in your body. You took my case just to piss off your old man, who happened to be the governor who signed my death warrant. From then on, all was cool with us.”

“Seriously,” said Jack. “I want you to take up CJ’s offer and get an inside look.”

“And do what? Find out what makes ol’ CJ tick?”

“No,” said Jack. “Find out why a guy who’s supposed to be worth two hundred million dollars is using an ATF loophole to recycle gun parts.”

Chapter 14

If the Hail Mary pass were a recognized legal strategy, Jack was about to heave one.

The prep session with Elliott lasted all morning. As in any grand jury proceeding, Jack had no way of knowing what ammunition the prosecution had. Jack did his best to put himself in Julianna Weller’s shoes, playing the role of lead prosecutor, grilling his client with leading questions that were nothing more than accusations, questions that could never be asked in a courtroom but that were permissible in a grand jury room with no judge presiding and no defense lawyer to object. Jack’s goal in being so aggressive was to change his client’s mind. But after three relentless hours, Elliott was steadfast.

“I’m not taking the Fifth,” he said firmly.

Jack was down to his final option. A Hail Mary pass didn’t have a chance by text, email or even a phone call. Jack pestered Abe Beckham by text until the state attorney and his lead prosecutor would grant him one final meeting. The three attorneys met in the state attorney’s corner office late Thursday afternoon, Beckham behind his desk, Weller in the armchair, and Jack on the couch, facing them.

“I want to be in the grand jury room tomorrow,” said Jack.

The prosecutors exchanged glances, sharing their incredulity. “You what?” asked Beckham.

“I’m asking your permission to accompany my client into the grand jury room when he testifies tomorrow.”

The state attorney chuckled. “We don’t do that. Grand jury witnesses leave their lawyers at the door.”

“The law simply doesn’t allow it,” added Weller.

“Well, that’s not exactly true,” said Jack. “One of the great things about living in Florida is that, if there’s an exception to a rule, it’s probably in Florida. There’s a statute on point,” he said, and he laid a copy of it on the desk before the state attorney.

“I’m familiar with the law,” said Beckham. “The statue says on its face that it ‘does not create a right to counsel for the grand jury witness.’ In other words, the state attorneymaygrant the request, or I can deny it. It’s up tome. And my answer is no. Your client will testify without counsel, like every other witness.”

“Except that he’s not like every other witness, is he, Abe?”

“In my eyes he is.”

“No, let’s be honest. There’s one important difference. My client is the prime suspect.”

No response from the prosecution. Poker faces, in stereo.

Jack continued. “I think we all agree that subpoenaing a suspect to testify before the grand jury is a risky strategy for the prosecution. If a person is under investigation and testifies without waiving the Fifth Amendment, the indictment could be void.”

“All strategies have risks.”