David Ellis - Breach of Trust

Everyone on the tape got a good chuckle out of that. Moody nodded to one of the agents, who turned off the tape. He could have turned off the tape a few sentences earlier, but he wanted me to hear Charlie Cimino diss Hector, as if, being Hector’s former counsel, I would be offended. Under the circumstances, it didn’t even hit the top ten list of things bothering me.

Chris Moody, for his part, was absolutely enjoying this entire affair. He must have been bouncing around all day, awaiting this visit, thinking of all the smart one-liners he’d throw my way.

“My word against Cimino’s,” I said. “And I’ve got paper to back it up.”

“Paper? You mean this paper?” Moody nodded to one of the agents, who handed me a document. It was a memorandum about the school bus contract that bore my name and looked a heck of a lot like the one I wrote. But a few paragraphs had been inserted at the end, with this conclusion:

Thus, provided that the Board of Education contract were reduced to smaller contracts of ten thousand dollars in value or less, the competitive bidding law would not apply, and the contract could be awarded to whatever company the PCB desired.

“I didn’t write that memo,” I said, realizing I should probably keep my mouth shut.

“I see,” said Moody with mock sympathy. “You probably didn’t write this one, either.”

On Moody’s cue, an agent handed me a second document, this one a legal memorandum bearing my name on the prison sanitation contract-once again different in its conclusion:

Neither of the two lowest bidders on the Marymount Penitentiary sanitation contract should be considered “responsible” bidders. Accordingly, the contract should be awarded to the next lowest bidder, Higgins Sanitation.

It was like Cimino had said on the tape. DQ’d both of ’em. But I hadn’t, of course.

“These have been doctored,” I said.

“You’ve been framed?” Moody asked, the question dripping with sarcasm. “Railroaded?”

I didn’t answer. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of baiting me. I didn’t know if “frame-up” was the right phrase here. More likely, Cimino was just using me as legal cover to justify what he wanted to do.

But to the federal government listening in, it sure looked like I was playing right along with Charlie.

“Oh, we’re not done, Jason.” Moody nodded to the agent manning the computer. “Play the next one,” he said.

Chris Moody kept his eyes on me as the FBI agent played the next intercepted conversation.

“You’ve done good work so far. I’ve seen your work product. The memo on the DOC sanitation project-the two bidders who underbid Higgins Sanitation.”

I did a slow burn. It was the voice of Greg Connolly, speaking to me in his office earlier today.

“Those bidders were well qualified,” I said in response.

“Course they were,” Connolly said. “Course they were. That’s why I’m saying, good job.”

It was pretty clear how this was lining up now. From Moody’s perspective, I was admitting to Greg Connolly that I knew those bidders were well qualified, and yet there was a memo with my name on it saying the exact opposite. I was admitting, that is, to deliberately giving a false legal opinion to further a crime-directing state business to an undeserving company that had given campaign contributions to Governor Snow.

And the recording wasn’t finished, either.

“Charlie talked to you about the buses, too,” Connolly went on. “I saw that analysis you did.”

“There’s no way that’s a sole-source,” I said. “Providing a bus? A hundred companies could do it.”

“So, again, good job on that. You’ll do very well here, Jason, if you want to. ”

The tape shut off. That was all they had, but it was more than enough, if they chose to believe that I had authored those memos in the form they now appeared. And they were definitely choosing to believe that.

“I didn’t write either of those memos,” I repeated. “Someone took those memos and changed them. Connolly may have been talking about the doctored memo when he was telling me ‘good job,’ but I didn’t know that. I thought he approved the memo that I wrote.”

Moody raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you’d believe, if you were me, Counselor?” He strolled around my living room. “It sounds to me like you impressed the chairman with your creative ways to get the favored companies their contracts, and it also sounds to me like you admitted that your legal conclusions were bogus. And that, Mr. Kolarich, sure sounds like fraud and conspiracy to me.”

“And why would I do that?” I added. “Even if I were inclined to do that, what would I get out of it?”

“Why would you do that. . why would you do that. .” Moody looked around the room at the other agents, like everyone was in on the joke except for me.

“I see you filed an appearance in the Hauser Construction case today,” he said to me.

My jaw did a few rotations. I couldn’t see it, not yet, but I had an idea.

“Jack Hauser,” he said. “The guy who hired you today? Minority partner in Higgins Sanitation? His other business, the construction company, needs a lawyer and suddenly turns to a guy with absolutely no experience in construction law? And, lo and behold, the lawyer he picks is the same lawyer who just helped him bypass two lower bidders to get a sweetheart prison sanitation contract.”

I was overcome with anger-at Cimino and at myself. Looking back, Hauser had seemed to be coming to me as if I were his only option. What had he said, when I’d quoted him three hundred an hour? Well, you’re hired, obviously, he’d said. I mean, okay, fine, I’ll hire you, but-any way to knock that number down? It was like he knew he had no choice, and he was pleading for mercy on the hourly rate.

And when I’d asked him how he got my name, he looked at me like we both knew that answer, like he couldn’t understand why I’d be asking.

Jack Hauser, it was now clear, had been sent to me. Cimino had told him that there would be a price to getting that prison contract-besides a campaign contribution to the governor-and that price was legal business for me, the lawyer who supposedly had made it happen. Cimino was cutting me in. This was how it worked. Everyone got a piece. Apparently, I was supposed to understand that.

I’d just taken a kickback without even knowing it.

Moody took the only remaining empty seat, nearest me, and leaned forward on his knees. “This is a criminal enterprise that makes Hector Almundo and the Cannibals look like the Girl Scouts of America. Connolly and Cimino are steering state contracts away from deserving companies to people who contribute to the governor’s campaign fund. I know it, Kolarich. I fucking know it. And I’m going to prove it. And you’re going to help me. Because if you don’t, you’ll be sitting next to all of them at trial. You can try to convince the jury that you’re the only honest one of the bunch of scumbags. You, the one who asked to be part of this-who used Hector Almundo to get you inside. Maybe you’ll be the one guy at the table who walks. But I wouldn’t like your chances, Counselor.”

I watched Moody, thinking through my options.

“What’s Cimino going to say at trial?” Moody went on. “And Connolly. ‘Advice of counsel,’ that’s what they’re going to say. They’re going to say they relied in good faith on you, their lawyer, for the actions they took. Everyone at that defense table is going to take a big dump on Jason Kolarich.”

He was right, of course. I’d be lined up at trial with a ring of criminals, all of whom would be busy pointing the finger at me.