T. Bunn - The Great Divide

“Maybe so.” Amos started toward his car. “Thought I’d ride along with you, hang back a ways, see if that pickup makes another appearance.”

The drive was uneventful. Amos walked him to the courthouse door and handed him over to Jim Bell, the judge’s receptionist. The retired patrolman clearly took the attack on Marcus during his watch very seriously.

Charlie was there and waiting for him, making quiet conversation with Alma Hall. “Austin teaches class this morning,” Alma said in greeting. “He wanted to come but I told him to go on to school.”

“Whatever you two feel is best.” Marcus turned to Charlie. “We need to talk.”

Charlie reached over and patted Alma’s arm. “You remember what I told you, now.”

Marcus led him over to the empty jury box. “What were you saying?”

“Not a thing you need to worry over. She’s scared, she’s not sleeping, she’s got strategies that’d wake a plucked goose. I heard her out and then told her to trust you.”

“When did all this happen?”

“Last night and again this morning. Fine-looking young lady they got staying with them, by the way.” The man sounded ten years younger and had a kick to his heels. “I assume you know who I mean. Blond, slender, smart as a whip, most remarkable eyes I ever did see.”

“It’s a shame she won’t give me the time of day.”

“Now that’s strange, seeing how she fair hung on every word I said about you.”

Marcus could not tell if the old man was joking, so he handed over the folder and said, “I’ve gone through and made a list of today’s and tomorrow’s witnesses. You have one key question for each witness. Take your time, establish each one carefully, hammer that one point home as much as you like.”

Charlie scanned the morning’s work and surmised, “Past practice.”

“Exactly.” Past practice was a legal jungle, with hundreds of rulings on either side. “Hopefully the judge will allow us at least to suggest this was not an isolated case.”

“The defense will be all over this with bazookas.”

“I know. Can you handle that?”

“I’m feeling a mite peckish this morning. Wouldn’t mind taking a bite or two out of a fancy-suited lawyer.” He closed the folder. “You think they did this to young Gloria Hall?”

“I’m more convinced with every passing day.”

“Then vile and treacherous don’t even begin to describe them.” Charlie nodded to where the bailiff was holding open the door to the judge’s chambers. “Let’s get to work.”

Charlie followed the order and the strategy with a veteran’s ease. Marcus sat and rested and grew stronger, and marveled at the old man’s ability. Charlie Hayes limped badly, his dentures clicked occasionally, his eyesight was mostly absent. But he remained a master in the courtroom. His timing rivaled that of a Shakespearean actor. The jury followed his every move.

The first witness was a local labor expert. Charlie walked him through his testimony on the textile industry’s employment structure, detailing how textile companies preferred economically struggling regions because they hired large numbers of low-skilled workers. Such areas paid premiums to have the companies come, offering grants in the form of free land and tax subsidies and low-cost loans. Charlie paused at that moment, then slipped in the question Marcus had intentionally not raised at deposition. “If such companies don’t require highly skilled workers, wouldn’t it be easier for them to leave?”

The expert’s surprise was evident. “Leave?”

“Sure, just pick up sticks and walk away. Go somewhere else willing to bribe them, soon as they’ve got trouble on their hands.”

“Objection.” The word did not come from Logan Kendall, but rather from one of the firm’s young associates. “Irrelevant.”

“Sustained.”

“No further questions.” Charlie headed back. “Your witness.”

“No questions at this time, Your Honor.”

Charlie scanned the sheet Marcus held out for him, said, “Plaintiff calls Weldon Smith.”

Smith was the director of industrial development for eastern North Carolina. Charlie had him describe the difficulties in attracting a company to invest in Edgecombe County. The man was only too eager to explain how important New Horizons was to the local economy. Thirty-nine hundred jobs. New national headquarters. Great free publicity for a depressed area. Tax revenue. Boost to local businesses. New incoming suppliers.

“You mentioned taxes earned from the company.” Charlie limped over to where Marcus had a page ready. “Do you have any idea how much in taxes New Horizons has paid?”

“How could I? That’s none of my concern.”

“I submit that it is very much your concern, since you arranged a ten-year tax exemption, and have offered them a further ten-year exemption for this new expansion of theirs.” Charlie headed toward the witness stand. “They haven’t paid one plug nickel in state taxes, now, have they?”

“Objection, Your Honor, this case is supposedly about some incident at a Chinese factory. It has nothing to do with local tax records.”

“Sustained.”

Charlie pressed on, “Is it not also true that the New Horizons group has been a headache from day one, and there are currently five outstanding legal actions the state has itself brought against the company?”

“Objection!”

“Sustained.”

“No further questions.”

“Defense, your witness.”

A young associate rose to his feet. “Your Honor, I cannot ask questions of the witness since the plaintiff has failed to show any connection to the case we are here to try!”

“The witness may stand down.” Judge Nicols gestured to both tables. “Counsel approach the bench.”

Marcus stayed where he was, and noted how Logan glanced his way before doing the same. The young associate went forward to argue with Charlie. Marcus found tight satisfaction in the fact that Logan was planning strategy as well, matching him move for move. If Marcus was holding back, so was he. It meant Logan was treating the case seriously. This was the best sign of all.

Friday continued in the same vein, with Charlie questioning and the same young associate defending. Judge Nicols allowed evidence on the issue of past practice, but with stern reservations: She might withdraw support if Marcus did not supply proof of a connection with the Chinese factory.

A local pastor testified to New Horizons’ maltreatment of migrant Hispanic workers. A young labor activist described the difficulties she had faced trying to organize an in-house union; her car had been bombed, her sympathizers ferreted out and fired. On cross-examination, however, she was forced to admit that she had no concrete proof to tie the company to these misdeeds.

An aging union VP was brought to the stand after vigorous objections by the defense. The New Horizons factory he had attempted to organize, located outside Tulsa, had been using Mexican immigrants and paying them half the promised salary. They had been housed in unsanitary conditions, forced into debt by buying from a company store, fired at whim, paid no overtime, harassed, and abused. Objections continued to rain down.

That afternoon Charlie called both available company vice presidents to the stand. His tone was quietly mocking as he had first one and then the other go down the entire list of board members and senior directors, asking only where each one was. The answers were all the same. Geneva, Switzerland. Charlie asked how much responsibility either man had for overseas factories. The answer was the same from both: none.

In cross-examination, the young associate asked about ties to Factory 101. Both men had been well-schooled. They described how the North Carolina distribution center accepted goods from twenty-seven different countries. Was China among them? Of course, since China was the world’s largest producer of finished textiles outside of the United States. Every major company in the business imported from China. Twice Charlie asked Marcus quietly if he should readdress the issue that neither man had anything to do with international operations. Marcus declined with a shake of his head. Either Ashley came up with the goods, or the case was almost done.