Robert Tanenbaum - Fury

"Well, actually, your honor, there is a matter I'd like to bring up first," he said loud enough to get the attention of everyone in the courtroom.

"Yes, Mr. Karp, please proceed," Klinger said nervously.

"Well, before we run into this issue in front of the jury, I wanted to inform the court that I may be calling Captain Tim Carney of the New York Police Department to the stand," he said.

"And I will object to that," Louis said, rising tiredly from his chair. "Captain Carney is not on any list of witnesses I have. Nor was he, to my knowledge, involved in the original case."

"Your honor," Karp said, "I may call Captain Carney as an impeachment witness, and as we all know, such witnesses do not have to be on a witness list."

"And who and what will he be impeaching?" Klinger asked.

"Mr. Villalobos," Karp said. "Mr. Carney can testify to the veracity of a taped conversation between District Attorney Kristine Breman and Mr. Villalobos in which the former admits to having received a letter from another inmate named Igor Kaminsky, who contended that Mr. Villalobos admitted to him that the plaintiffs initiated and participated in the assault on Ms. Tyler."

Karp was gratified to see Klinger turn white as the courtroom erupted into bedlam. Breman stood and fled, with reporters after her like a pack of wild dogs after a deer. "That's ridiculous," she shouted over her shoulder at the questions thrown at her retreating form.

Klinger finally remembered to pick up her gavel and pound until the courtroom-at least those who hadn't run off to file stories or chase Breman-quieted down. "Is there anything else, Mr. Karp?" said the judge, the fear that she would be named next clearly in her eyes.

Let her stew, Karp thought, and wonder if I have a copy of the letter. "Yes, your honor, I ask that Kristine Breman be subpoenaed by this court and notified that she may be required to appear as a witness for the defense."

"Now, hold on a damn minute," Louis said. "I know nothing about these tapes. How were they obtained? Are they even legally admissible?"

"You can ask those questions of Captain Carney if I need to call him to the stand," Karp said. "But first let's see how Mr. Villalobos answers my questions. Perhaps he'll tell the truth, and there'll be no need for an impeachment witness."

"Well, Mr. Karp, unless we know how these alleged tapes were obtained I will not allow Captain Carney to take the stand," Klinger said. "So before that point, I expect that you will ask for an evidentiary hearing first. Now, if the theatrics are over, I'll ask the jury to be seated."

Karp was not particularly bothered by the ruling-he was mostly just stirring the pot, hoping the judge might "find" the Kaminsky letter, using some lame excuse as to why she'd kept it. On a personal level, it had been fun to watch Breman running from the jackals in the press, but he had a bigger bomb waiting in the wings anyway.

When the jury was seated, the judge gave him the nod and he recalled Villalobos to the stand. To warm up he asked the obviously nervous witness to repeat his testimony regarding how he alone had raped Ms. Tyler and that he'd used a piece of driftwood to assault her. He knew that the jurors would be comparing the disgusting persona of Villalobos and his statements to that of Jack Swanburg.

"Mr. Villalobos, do you recall telling anyone that this whole 'confession' was made up?" Karp asked.

"That's a lie," Villalobos hissed, looking at Louis.

"You never said that the plaintiffs were the first to assault and rape Ms. Tyler?"

"More lies. You lie," Villalobos shouted.

"Then, perhaps you've forgotten your former cellmate, Igor Kaminsky?" Karp fired.

"I had a lot of cellmates," Villalobos said. "I don't remember every one."

"Well, then," Karp said, looking toward the back of the courtroom where Clay Fulton, who had been waiting by the door, disappeared, "maybe seeing his face would remind you."

Fulton returned to the courtroom escorting a thin, white male with one arm. "Do you recognize Igor Kaminsky now?" Karp asked.

Marlene and Karp had shown up at Battery Park a few minutes before midnight, standing in the chill until an old man followed by a large younger man walked up to them. "Thank you for coming, nephew," Vladimir Karchovski said, kissing Karp on the cheeks. "Oh, and finally I meet your beautiful bride, the lovely and-so I'm told-quite inventive Marlene Ciampi."

"Marlene, I'd like to introduce to you my great-uncle, Vladimir Karchovski," Karp said.

"What? I didn't know you had a great-uncle Vladimir," Marlene said, extending a hand and blushing like a schoolgirl when the old man took it and raised it to his lips.

"Ah, unfortunately, we are an estranged family due to our…um…career choices," Vladimir said. "But come, it is cold outside and I'd like you to accompany me for a boat ride."

"Where?" Karp asked.

"Why, Ellis Island, of course," Vladimir said.

"Ellis Island? Why?"

"Please, just humor an old man. It is to make a point to you and to someone else important to me. And you know how we Russians love the dramatic gesture."

Vladimir and his bodyguard led the way to a small speedboat that waited at the dock. "Please, step aboard my steed," Vladimir said.

"Aren't you worried about the park or harbor police?" Karp said. "I don't believe that Ellis Island is open at this time of night."

"No," Vladimir said and smiled. "Perhaps not to the general public. But the park police are poorly paid and they sometimes can be persuaded to let an old man visit when the crowds are not so large. Now please, I suggest you get down out of the wind. The ride over can be quite chilly."

The Ellis Island boat dock was empty when they arrived, but waiting on the steps leading into the museum was a tall, gray-haired man whose face had been scarred by fire. "Yvgeny Karchovski," Marlene said. "How nice to see you again. Karchovski-I take it you and Butch's uncle are related."

"He is my son," Vladimir said, turning to Karp. "Which makes him your father's first cousin. I get confused after that but you are cousins of some extraction."

"I don't understand," Karp said. "I've never quite understood the family's connections." He stepped forward and shook Yvgeny's hand. The two men were of almost the same height and build.

They could be brothers, Marlene thought. Although if I remember Alexis Michalik's comments, they would be oil and water, a gangster and a prosecutor.

"I'll tell you the story," Vladimir said. "But let us go inside. I'm, as the young say, freezing my ass off."

As they walked into the building and up the stairs to the great hall where millions of immigrant families had waited to be processed for entry into the United States, Vladimir told the story of another family. "It begins with two brothers, Yakov and Yusef, who were part of a large Jewish family living in the Galicia area of Poland when Imperial Russian Cossacks embarked on one of their periodic pogroms to terrorize and murder Jews.

"Yakov and Yusef survived because they were gone from the village that day, hunting. However, they returned to find their family slaughtered and their home burned to the ground. With many tears, they decided to split up. Yusef was tired of the old hatreds of Europe and dreamed of starting fresh in America, where even a Jew might hope to accomplish great things. He arrived on a ship filled with many other desperate people and waited in this very hall, where they changed his name to Karp for simplicity's sake and set him free to pursue his dreams.

"Meanwhile, Yakov burned with a desire for revenge, fighting first with the Germans against the Russians when World War I broke out; then when the Bolsheviks rebelled, he signed on to fight against the forces of Czar Nicholas. It wasn't so much that he believed in socialism, he just wanted to kill Cossacks. He met Lena, another revolutionary, who in 1918 bore him a son, Vladimir, who you see standing before you now.