68

VIRGINIA BEACH, VIRGINIA

The report filed by U.S. Attorney Mitchell Taylor was factual, decisive, and crisp. Based on the FBI interviews, he concluded that the deposition had most likely been leaked by one of the plaintiff’s lawyers. They certainly had motive. Moreover, while each of the lawyers denied ever speaking to Harry Coburn, Wyatt Jackson had destroyed his computer, Wellington Farnsworth had bleached certain files, and Paige Chambers had refused to produce her computer, though it was subject to subpoena. All other persons interviewed by the FBI had voluntarily allowed access to their computers and personal devices.

The report and any appropriate sanctions would be considered by Judge Solberg at a hearing she had scheduled for a few days later. And all of this was separate from the grand jury that was now investigating other charges against Paige and her colleagues.

Paige had steeled herself for the report, and Taylor’s conclusions did not surprise her. If anything, she was relieved that he didn’t go into greater detail about the obstruction of justice charges he was now investigating or the grand jury he had convened. Judge Solberg had asked for a report solely about the leaking of the deposition of John Marcano, and that’s what Taylor had given her.

But it didn’t take long for the press to jump on the story and blast Paige and her colleagues. The same reporters who had been pounding John Marcano since the release of the deposition now turned their guns against Wyatt, Paige, and Wellington. As one might expect, Wyatt took the brunt of the criticism because he was lead counsel and had a history of shady tactics. In almost every article, his old transgressions were summarized so that this new piece of red meat could be properly digested. The ineffective assistance of counsel petitions were trotted out again, including the one that described Wyatt napping during trial. There was even a quote from an old prosecutor who suspected that Wyatt had leaked information to the press in a different case.

Paige couldn’t stop herself from reading the articles one by one and watching videos from the TV reporters. They were devastating hits, and Paige dreaded the upcoming hearing in front of Solberg, but she knew her team would survive. She thought about how the old Paige would have reacted just a few months ago. She probably would have curled up in the fetal position and refused to get out of bed. But hanging out with Wyatt and going through the battles in this case had already thickened her skin. Sure, she was still going to obsess over every article that hammered away at her reputation, and she hated every minute of it, but in her better moments she knew this attack would pass and that somehow they would manage to strike back.

Wyatt was right about one thing—there was a certain nobility in the mind-set of the Alamo. If you’re going to lose, you might as well at least go down fighting. It’s what Patrick and Troy and their teammates had done. And it’s what Paige owed them on the most important case she had ever handled.

Chick’s Oyster Bar was one of the most popular hangouts on the Chesapeake Bay side of Virginia Beach. It was located at the intersection of the Lynnhaven River and the bay, overlooking the water so that people could pull up to the dock and have the waiters serve them on their boats. It had a rustic feel, with picnic tables on the back deck, an old bar with local beers, and a small T-shirt shop to take advantage of tourists who thought they had stumbled onto a local watering hole. It was also the place where Navy SEALs hung out to meet local girls, so it featured more than its share of great-looking women.

“I can’t tell you how many times Troy and I ate here,” Kristen said as she and Paige settled at one of the picnic tables on the screened-in back deck. Paige had called her earlier that day, after Taylor’s report came out. The two women decided to meet for dinner, and Kristen got a sitter. They had both been ignoring calls from the press.

It was a cool autumn night, and Paige wore a sweatshirt, though the women at the bar were still in spaghetti-strap tops and short skirts. Lit up on the other side of the river was a mansion that belonged to Pharrell Williams, the famous R & B artist. Paige ignored the televisions hanging in every corner of the bar and restaurant.

As so often happened when they got together, Paige found her own spirits lifted by Kristen’s sarcastic yet optimistic view of the world. Kristen had now decided that if she and her lawyers were SEAL Team Nine and the defendants were the Houthis, then the media must certainly be ISIS.

The two covered a broad range of subjects that night. The boys were starting to do better. The other SEAL families were still very supportive. And they couldn’t forget that the case was still alive—almost miraculously so.

Kristen asked about preparations for the Supreme Court argument, and Paige felt the need to be honest. Wyatt wasn’t very focused, and this FBI investigation hadn’t helped. But Paige promised Kristen that Wyatt would be ready by the time the hearing rolled around. It was the way he operated—always waiting until the last minute to prepare for anything.

It wasn’t until nearly thirty minutes later, after Kristen had had a few drinks and the waitress had brought the bill, that Kristen circled back around to the issue.

“Paige, I’ve been giving this Supreme Court argument a lot of thought today. And what you said earlier confirmed some things for me.”

“What I said about what?”

“Wyatt not being focused.”

“No, I said he would be fine—”

“Just hear me out for a second,” Kristen said. “All of this press coverage, and these allegations against Wyatt . . .” She hesitated, pulled her napkin from her lap, and placed it on the table. She pushed her plate aside. “I don’t think I want him arguing at the Supreme Court. He wouldn’t just be representing our family; he’s representing all the SEALs, in a way. I know he’s good at what he does—and he’s a fighter, something that Troy appreciated.”

Paige could tell where this was headed, and she didn’t like it. For all his weaknesses, she had grown to admire Wyatt. She never had to worry about whether he would wilt under pressure or shrink back. Nobody else could take on the justices of the Supreme Court like him.

“I just think you’d be better arguing the legal aspects of this case,” Kristen said. “Especially after today. Is that even possible?”

Paige nearly choked on her drink. She had sensed that Kristen wanted to replace Wyatt. But she thought it would be with someone who specialized in Supreme Court arguments. “Replace him with me?” she asked. “Wyatt has a lot more experience than I do, and his credibility at the Court will be far greater. I mean, I just got admitted a few weeks ago. I’ve never even been to the Supreme Court, much less argued there.”

“I’ve seen you in court,” Kristen said. “I read what you did at Marcano’s deposition. And from what you’ve told me, the arguments at the Court don’t really matter all that much. It’s the written briefs that count, and you and Wellington are doing a great job on those. I just think I’d rather have the spotlight on you than him.”

They discussed it for another ten minutes, nursing glasses of water as Paige did her best to talk Kristen out of this. It wasn’t just a fear of making her first argument on such short notice, or a reluctance to disappoint Wyatt, but Paige legitimately believed Wyatt was the better choice. Sure, he was way too casual about his preparation—but she and Wellington would get that fixed.

Unfortunately, the client had other ideas, and she was stubborn. They didn’t resolve the matter at Chick’s, but Kristen did ask a critical question just before they got up to leave.

“As the client, do I get to make this decision? Or is this something the lawyers work out?”

“It’s your call, Kristen. But I think Wyatt is the right guy.”

Kristen agreed to think about it, and Paige thought she had bought some time. But after Paige drove her home that night, sitting in the car in Kristen’s driveway, Kristen brought it up again. “Paige, I know you don’t agree with me, but I think it’s the right thing to do,” she blurted out. “I want you to argue this case. We don’t have much time, and I’m not going to change my mind.”

Paige stared out the front windshield and frowned. This was the last thing she needed on top of everything else.

Kristen reached over and touched her shoulder. “You’re the best shot we have. I need you to do this for me and the kids and for Troy and Patrick.”

“I’ll talk to Wyatt about it,” Paige said.

The women hugged, Kristen thanked her, and Paige stayed in the driveway until Kristen had disappeared inside her house. Paige drove away thinking about the conversation she would need to have with Wyatt. She felt like somehow she was betraying him. Maybe she had been too critical when Kristen first brought the subject up.

Paige had dreamed of arguing before the U.S. Supreme Court, but not like this. This entire case felt snakebit. She bit her lower lip, fighting back tears.

It was nearly ten o’clock, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she headed home. And so, instead of stopping at her condo on Laskin Road, she drove by and headed to the ocean. There were some things she had to get straight, and they couldn’t wait any longer.