Monday was more hectic than usual. Working with Vance Cunningham, I put together a stipulation and proposed court order that settled the Park case. I efiled the papers through the court's ICCES system late in the afternoon. I'd called Mary Wheaton, the Chief Judge, to tell her what we were doing. She let me know she was pleased and appreciated my pro bono handling of the case. Since it was an uncontested matter, she would handle it herself. We wouldn't need an evidentiary hearing to establish that Gumauer had been unduly influenced. She already knew that.
"I do have an obligation to report Mr. Cunningham to the grievance office," she said.
"I know. So do I. He knows that. It's too bad, too. He's actually not that bad a guy. I think he was steered into it by Henry Antrim."
"Nevertheless, we're judged by what we do," she observed. "Not by why we do it."
My next conversation was with Dan McKeever. "This is getting to be a habit," he said. "I get a call from you every Monday morning. Sometimes you can't wait and you call me on Sunday."
"This could be the last call for a while, but it's probably the most important one."
"Yeah? What have you got?"
I laid out what I had been doing over the weekend.
"Wow," he said when I was done. "How on earth did you figure all this out?"
"It would take too long to explain," I told him. "Right now, there's an urgency and I'm hoping you can help me out."
A note of caution crept into his voice. "Help you out how?"
"Nothing illegal or improper," I assured him. "I'm convinced we now know who's been killing everyone associated with Gumauer, but I don't think there's enough proof to get a conviction. Do you agree?"
"I do. You've got a lot of circumstantial evidence, but no knockout punch."
"Well, here's what I have in mind..."
* * * *
I have to admit, in retrospect, that it was a pretty goofy plan, but at the time it made perfect sense. McKeever reluctantly agreed to work with me, especially since he would have no active role in the process—and therefore no risk. It took a huge amount of convincing, but I finally managed to get Tom Swain on board. The two of us were able to get our last cohort to sign on. It required rearranging schedules, including mine, but finally just about everything was in place.
The next item on the agenda was a discussion with Joe Stone. When I phoned his number on Wednesday night, his wife answered.
"Dottie?" I said. "This is Adam Larsen."
"Oh, hi, Adam. I assume you're calling for Joe."
"I am. This is about his administrative hearing tomorrow morning."
"I'm sorry, but he's already in bed. He's been so upset about this that he hasn't slept all week. He finally ran out of steam and conked out about an hour ago. Knowing him, I'm sure he'll be up at 5:00 a.m., worrying again."
"Well, can you give him a message for me?"
"Sure. I'm sure he'd appreciate any words of encouragement you can offer."
"I may have more than just encouragement," I said. "Are you planning to be there?"
"I'd like to, but Joe asked me to stay away. He says it would just make him nervous, and he doesn't want me to be there to witness the end of his career."
"Well, please tell him that no matter how things may appear tomorrow, I'm on his side."
Her tone brightened. "You're going to be there? Adam, do you have something up your sleeve?"
"I do. Just tell him not to do anything hasty."
"I will. Whatever it is, thank you!"
Don't thank me yet, I thought. A lot of pieces still need to fall into place.
* * * *
Administrative law hearings for employee personnel matters were conducted in a seven-story office building owned by the State of Colorado, located at Fifteenth and Sherman. The marble-faced building had been built circa 1959. Hearings took place in a conference room on the fourth floor. Stone's case was the only matter on the morning docket and was set to begin at 9:00 a.m.
Our group gathered at a coffee shop down the street and traveled en masse to the hearing building. We deliberately waited until just before nine, assuming that the other participants in the morning's event would have already gone upstairs. There were six of us: McKeever, Swain, Linda Valdez from the disciplinary prosecutor's office, Maurice, Jana and, as the de facto caboose, me. We'd debated whether to warn the Administrative Law Judge's clerk that we planned to attend, but after a lengthy discussion the consensus had been that we should simply show up. My laptop computer and briefcase slowed us down a bit at the security checkpoint, but not enough to throw us off schedule.
Swain turned to me as we rode the elevator upstairs. "I sure as hell hope you know what you're doing."
"So do I," I said. "We'll know soon enough."
As our entourage filtered through the doorway, half a dozen pairs of eyes were focused on us. Stone was seated at a table to the left of the bench, accompanied by his counsel, Wayne Yurek. A man whom I'd never seen before sat at the opposite table. I knew, however, that he was an attorney from the Attorney General's office and his last name was Sonnenstein.
Stone's eyes seemed to bulge out when he saw us. In the past, he would have jumped to his feet, with his face turning bright red, and started yelling at me. But, evidently, his wife had delivered my message to him. After visibly making an effort to control himself, he clamped his square jaw shut and just stared. He and I were evidently making progress in our new-found friendship. His face had merely turned a pale crimson.
For Stone, that was a Herculean feat of self-control.
Yurek looked curious, but gave no indication that our presence was unwelcome. He slowly stood and came over to join us. "Good morning, Larsen, Ms. Deacon. Here to show moral support for Joe?"
"We are," I said. "Obviously, the case didn't settle."
"I'm afraid not. Joe refused what I thought was a reasonable offer under the circumstances."
A door near the front of the room swung open. A woman in a businesslike blue suit crossed into the room, followed by a tall, distinguished-looking man with gray sideburns and a bushy moustache. I'd looked him up on the Colorado website and knew that his name was Arnold Dixon. He looked all of his sixty-five years and had a good reputation, especially as a jurist who was willing to listen to the facts. He'd announced his intention to retire at the end of the year, and was slowly winding down his docket.
He was the perfect judge for what we intended to do.
Maurice and the others gravitated toward the spectator's area. Swain, Valdez and I remained in the forefront. There were three other attendees. Since only one of them was a woman, I decided she must be Amber Johnson.
"All rise," said the woman in the blue suit.
Everyone who wasn't already standing did so, while the judge ambled over to his chair, walking with a slight limp.
"Good morning, everyone," he called out. "Please be seated. I see we have a full house this morning. Calling State Personnel Board versus Joseph W. Stone. Will counsel please enter their appearances?"
The assistant attorney general said, "Albert Sonnenstein for the Board, Your Honor."
Stone's lawyer moved to the podium. "Wayne Yurek for the respondent, Mr. Stone, who is present today for this hearing."
Swain stepped forward. "Your Honor, I know this is extraordinary, but my name is Tom Swain. I'm a deputy with the Denver District Attorney's office. Also present with me are Adam Larsen, who is also an attorney, and Linda Valdez, with the office of the disciplinary prosecutor. We'd like to enter our appearances."
The judge's eyebrows shot up as he gawked at us. I kept my eyes focused on him, deliberately avoiding looking at anyone else. "In what capacity, Mr. Swain?"
"As amicus curiae, Your Honor. Friends of the court. There are matters arising out of this case that we do not believe the parties will adequately address. Not if the truth is to come out."
"Mr. Swain, I've been on the bench for nearly three decades, and I've never encountered anything like this. Mr. Sonnenstein, what is your position about this?"
I knew, of course, what his position would be, He had been the last holdout, but had finally agreed not to prevent us from having our say. That was a major coup, given that he had almost no idea what it was that we were planning.
"I agree that this is very peculiar, Your Honor, but I suppose that uncovering the truth is what we're here for. I have no objection."
"Very well," said the judge. "What about you, Mr. Yurek?"
"I have to object, Your Honor. Strenuously, I might add. We have no idea what evidence these people plan to produce or what agenda they may have. Nothing in the rules permits—"
He was interrupted by his client. Despite what undoubtedly would have been his natural distrust of me, Stone had apparently figured out that Swain and McKeever—and Jana—wouldn't be there without a good reason. I could almost see a glimmer of hope in his eyes. For him, this was the ultimate Hail Mary.
I gave him an appreciative smile.
For once in his life, he had used his brain before he used his mouth.
"It's okay, Your Honor," Stone said. "They can't make it any worse than it already is."
Yurek look concerned. "Are you sure, Joe? This could spell the end of your career."
"Let them have their say," Stone insisted.
Yurek raised his arms in an elaborate gesture of surrender. "Then I guess we have no objection."
"Let's proceed," the Judge said. "Opening statements?"
"The state waives its opening," Sonnenstein announced.
"As does the respondent," Yurek said.
The judge surveyed our cadre of lawyers, seated side by side in the front row of the spectator section. "Anyone from the Greek chorus over there?"
Swain said, "No, Your Honor."
"Then call your first witness, Mr. Sonnenstein."
The assistant AG, still standing, called out, "Amber Johnson."
I had been right about the woman I'd pegged as the complaining witness. When she reached the witness stand, the Judge said, "Do you solemnly swear or affirm under penalty of perjury to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"
"I do."
Sonnenstein began his direct examination. "Please state your full name for the record."
"Amber Johnson."
"What do you do for a living, Ms. Johnson?"
"I'm a manicurist."
"And how long have you been a manicurist?"
"Off and on for about four years."
"Let's be up front about something with the judge. Have you ever been convicted of a felony?"
"Yes."
She and Sonnenstein had obviously rehearsed her testimony. He knew her criminal history would be an issue and he addressed it head on.
"Tell us about that, Ms. Johnson."
"Well, about three years ago, I pled guilty to possession of a Schedule I controlled substance."
"Did you spend any time in jail?"
"No, the judge cut me some slack. He sentenced me to two years probation. I finished it last August."
"Any other felonies?"
"None," she said.
"Ms. Johnson, can you tell us what happened on the night of March sixteenth of this year?"
"I sure can. I got attacked. By him." She pointed an accusing finger at the table where Stone was sitting. "Sergeant Joe Stone."
"How do you know it was him?"
"Because I remember him. He showed me his badge, and told me he was Sergeant Joe Stone."
"What occasioned that exchange?"
She squinted at Sonnenstein. "What did what?"
"How did he come to tell you who he was?"
"Oh. He stopped me. Pulled me over in my car."
"And where did this occur, Ms. Johnson?"
"Near Seventeenth and Federal. That's where I pulled off. You know, to get out of traffic?"
"And what time of day was this?"
"A few minutes before seven."
"How do you know it was a few minutes before seven?"
"I just do. I'd gotten off work at six thirty, and stopped at a Taco Bell for some food. It was still warm when he stopped me."
"What happened when he stopped you, Ms. Johnson?"
"Well, he told me to step out of the car, and then said to get into his police car."
"What did the vehicle look like?"
"What did it look like? It was a police car. White, I guess."
"Okay. What happened when you got in the car?"
"Well, he came around the other side, and climbed into the back seat next to me."
"Did he say anything?"
"No, he just grabbed me."
"How did he grab you?"
"By the arms. He tried to pin me down."
"Did he hurt you?"
"He sure did. I had mega-bruises for the next two weeks."
Sonnenstein handed her two sheets of paper. "Can you identify what we've marked as Exhibits A and B?"
"I sure can. Those are pictures of the bruises on my arms."
"Who took those pictures?"
"I did. One of each arm."
"What happened after Sergeant Stone grabbed your arms?"
"Well, it's all kind of a blur, you know? I started fighting like crazy and somehow got him off of me. I got myself out of that back seat and ran back to my car."
"Did he pursue you?"
"No, he was too surprised at how hard I was fighting. I guess he thought I'd just give in. He just stood there like a fool while I started my car and drove away."
"Did you call the police?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I was too scared. With my felony conviction, they'd never believe anything I said."
"Did you go to the hospital?"
She shook her head. "No. I don't have health insurance. I can't afford to see doctors. Besides, what could they do? I could tell nothing was broken, so I figured I'd just lump it."
"Did you at some point decide to report what had happened?"
"I did."
"What prompted you to make that decision?"
"Well, there were all these protests about police brutality. All over the country. And I decided to do my little part and tell everyone what happened to me. So it wouldn't happen to anybody else."
"Thank you, Ms. Johnson. I have no further questions."
Yurek partially stood up and then changed his mind. He rotated toward where Swain, Valdez and I were sitting. In a mocking tone, he said. "Why don't you amicus curiae go first?"
I rose and headed toward the podium. "Ms. Johnson, you've told us about your felony drug conviction, haven't you?"
"Yeah, I did."
"But you've also had a number of misdemeanor convictions, too, haven't you?"
Sonnenstein was on his feet. "Objection, Your Honor. Misdemeanor convictions are inadmissible as character evidence."
"Your Honor," I said, "the charges I have in mind do relate directly to the witness's character for truthfulness. But that isn't where I'm going with my questions. This isn't about her character."
The judge said, "Mr. Yurek?"
"No objection here. If he can impeach her credibility, that's good for my client. Let him give it his best shot."
"Very well. Proceed, Mr. Larsen."
"Ms. Johnson, you were convicted four years ago of shoplifting at a Target Store in Westminster, were you not?"
She shot me a nasty look. "Yes."
"And writing bad checks about six months before that?"
"Yes."
"But the amounts were small enough not to constitute felonies, right?"
"I guess. So what? It doesn't change the fact that Sergeant Stone attacked me."
"Who was your lawyer in those cases?"
"I don't remember."
"Ms. Johnson, the hearing where you pled guilty to a felony was conducted by Judge Milton Gumauer, was it not?"
Someone at the defense table stirred. I couldn't tell if it was Stone or Yurek. I didn't bother to find out.
At that point, it didn't matter.
She said, "Sir, I have no idea what judge it was."
"Fair enough," I said evenly. "But you know who your attorney was, don't you?"
"What do you mean?"
I said, "Your Honor, may I approach the witness?"
"You may, Mr. Larsen."
I picked up the printed docket sheet I'd brought to the lectern with me, handing copies to Sonnenstein and Yurek, and then handing one to the witness. "Your conviction occurred on the seventeenth of August, 2011, right?"
"If you say so."
"It's not what I say, Ms. Johnson. It was that date, wasn't it?"
"I guess so. I don't remember. Like you said, that was four years ago."
"And you see where it says that the judge was Milton Gumauer, right?"
"That's what it says. But I don't—"
"And looking at the name for your lawyer, does that refresh your memory?"
She looked down at the page, and then at me and then back at the page. "Yes."
"Tell the Judge who your lawyer was."
It came out barely a whisper. "Wayne Yurek."
"Can you speak up, please?"
"Wayne Yurek."
I didn't expect Yurek to give up without a fight. By now, he obviously knew where this was going.
Besides, this was all just a sideshow. The main event was taking place simultaneously at Yurek's office and his home. With what was known so far, Swain had been able to persuade a judge to issue search warrants, two of which were executed promptly at 9:00 a.m. A third one—for his truck, which was parked downstairs—remained to be served.
Yurek took the only out he had. "Your Honor, I am deeply embarrassed. I'd completely forgotten—until Mr. Larsen so deviously just reminded me—that I've represented her in the past." Turning toward the disciplinary prosecutor, he continued, "Now I understand why you're here. This doesn't look very good. I have at least an apparent conflict of interest, if not an actual one. I am mortified. Your Honor, I obviously can't subject the witness to the sort of aggressive cross-examination that her claims deserve. I have no choice but to ask to recuse myself from this case. Mr. Sonnenstein, I need to ask your indulgence and seek a continuance of this matter." He put a hand on Stone's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Joe. I should have remembered. It's been over four years."
Of course, it wasn't that simple. During Yurek's performance, I was watching Amber Johnson, still seated at the witness stand. Although she still looked hostile, I could see that she was getting worried.
The Judge was not pleased. "Mr. Larsen, is that why you and your companions are here? All this drama over a four year old sentencing hearing? Why didn't you just call Mr. Yurek and tell him? I could have continued the hearing and Sergeant Stone could have hired another lawyer."
"It's not that simple, Your Honor. Just the preface, if you will."
"Well, it had better be something less trivial than an inadvertent conflict of interest."
"It is, Your Honor. I promise you that. May I proceed?"
"Yes," he said testily. "For the time being. But I'm warning you right now, if this isn't going somewhere meaningful, I'm going to hold you in contempt. Do you understand?"
"I do." I turned my attention to the witness. "Ms. Johnson, have you ever heard of a bar known as the White Mule?"
"No."
"It's located on West Colfax at Delaware. You've never been there?"
"No."
"And you certainly weren't there the night you claim Sergeant Stone assaulted you. Right?"
"Right. I wasn't nowhere near there. And I don't just claim he did it. He did it."
"Your Honor, may I approach the witness?"
"Yes," he said. I had a feeling he nearly added something else, but he clamped his mouth shut and just sat there, seething. I carried my laptop, which had been in hibernation mode, up to the witness stand and waited for the screen to light up. "I'm going to show you part of a video and ask if you can identify anyone in it."
"Since I wasn't there, how could I?"
"Well, let's just find out. Mr. Sonnenstein, Mr. Yurek, you're welcome to come up and watch." I waited until they had joined me before I clicked on the "play" button. The video began to display. After a few seconds, a man strode across the room, headed for the men's room.
I said, "That's Sergeant Stone, isn't it?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you were able to identify him a few minutes ago under Mr. Sonnenstein's direct examination. Isn't this the same man who's sitting in this hearing room today?"
She folded her arms stubbornly. "I don't know."
"Well, let's give you another view of the gentleman." I advanced the video to the next spot I had flagged. Stone came tramping out of the men's room, crossed the room in his unmistakable manner, elbows flaring out as though he intended to bowl over anyone who got in his way, and lumbered out the door. "Do you recognize him now?"
"No."
"Okay. Please note the time on the video. Seven twelve. Assuming that's correct, that would just be a few minutes after the time you say he attacked you. Right?"
"I don't know."
I looked over at the judge. He was definitely paying attention.
"But, assuming that's really Sergeant Stone and the time is right, it would prove that he couldn't have been miles away, attacking you at the same time as this video, don't you agree?"
She looked around the courtroom, as though looking for someone who could help her.
I glanced over at Yurek. He wasn't looking at her. He was glaring venomously at me.
She said, "This is some sort of trick. I've never seen this video before."
Sonnenstein said, "Your Honor, I've let this go on for a while, to see where it was going, but now I have to object. The witness has said she doesn't recognize the man in the video. She's never seen it before. There is no foundation for any of her testimony, and I move to strike it."
The judge said, "Mr. Larsen?"
"I haven't offered the video into evidence yet. I'll be laying the foundation for that through Sergeant Stone. We also have the owner of the White Mule on call as a witness, if necessary. I have only one more point to make with the video and then I'll move on."
"Do it quickly, Counsel. I know that the rules of evidence aren't strictly enforced in these proceedings, but I've given you just about as much leeway as the law permits."
I noted—to my relief—that much of the rancor had faded from his voice.
He had recognized the significance of the video.
"I understand, Your Honor," I said, "and I appreciate it. Ms. Johnson, one last issue about the video. Please watch this next segment." I let the video resume playing. The scene switched to the view from the camera on the other side of the White Mule. A man was seated at a table, sipping what appeared to be a bottle of beer. Next to him was a black briefcase. He stood up and walked away, leaving the case behind.
I froze the video, highlighted a corner of the briefcase and directed the computer to enlarge that portion of the frame. "Note the scuff mark on the corner of the briefcase, Ms. Johnson? Have you ever seen that briefcase before?"
"No."
"What about the man who just left it there? Have you ever seen him before?"
"No."
I took a look at Wayne Yurek. He was so angry that his head looked ready to explode. At the defense table, Stone was watching the proceedings with an odd, distant look on his face. He was slowly digesting what was going on, and he wasn't liking it. He didn't even seem angry. Just stunned.
I reverted my attention to Amber Johnson. "Well, let's make him a little bigger. Maybe that will help." I zoomed in and had the computer enlarge the shot. "Don't you think he looks a lot like Mr. Yurek, who is standing right next to you?"
"No."
"Let's continue showing the video. Watch as Sergeant Stone comes into view. Whoops, they almost bumped into each other. Did you see that?"
"I don't see anything."
"Then the man who you don't think looks like Mr. Yurek walks toward the men's room, right?"
"If you say so."
"Now, watch as another man goes to that table and grabs the briefcase. Do you see that?"
"Yes."
"I'll represent to you that the man's name was David Salazar. Do you know him?"
"No."
"He was found dead behind the building the next morning. Without that briefcase, by the way. I don't suppose you'd know anything about that, would you?"
"No, I don't."
I closed the lid of the computer and returned to the attorney podium. Yurek and Sonnenstein headed back to their respective tables.
"Ms. Johnson, when is the last time you spoke with Mr. Yurek prior to today?"
"I don't remember."
"In fairness, let me warn you that the District Attorney's office can subpoena your phone records. Won't they show that you and Mr. Yurek have, in fact, spoken during the past three months? Possibly more than once?"
She started to say something but instead pressed her lips together.
"Ms. Johnson, isn't it true that, in fact, Mr. Yurek called you and told you to pretend you had been attacked by Sergeant Stone? The idea was to prove he was somewhere else that night and not in that bar. Right?"
Yurek stood up. "Ms. Johnson, he's accusing you of a felony. You have the right to remain silent. Don't—"
She jumped out of her chair. "I'm not taking the rap for this! Mr. Larsen, it's just like you said. He called me in March and said he needed a favor. He needed me to accuse some cop of—"
That was all I heard of what she had to say. Before I could react, Yurek had me by the throat and was doing his best to choke me. I thrashed my arms in vain, trying to break his strangle hold. I fought hard to break free, but I couldn't make him let go. I was beginning to get woozy when suddenly I felt his grip release. His hands fell away from my throat. I gratefully assumed that Maurice had intervened on my behalf.
But I was wrong.
It was Stone, standing over Yurek's fallen figure, looking ferocious and triumphant the way Mohammed Ali did after he knocked out George Foreman.
Stone had decked Yurek with one punch.
McKeever rushed forward, with Maurice right behind. In an instant, Yurek was lying on his stomach with his hands cuffed behind his back. Blood gushed out of his nose, which looked like it had been broken.
I just stood there like an idiot, rubbing my sore neck.
Yurek had nearly crushed my wind pipe.