The Avery Nelson Legal Series: Book One — The King Lucas Murder

Three Months Ago (Trial Case: State vs. Kenneth Anderson)   "Is the prosecution ready to call its first witness?" Judge McKinney proceeds to the first order of business. He is wearing the same tiny, framed eyeglasses from the earlier trials of this case. They sit awkwardly on his abnormally large nose. We finally got to the final trial for the murder case against my client, Mr. Kenneth Anderson. These past few weeks have been hectic for me. To crown it with a victory was the only outcome that would compensate for the hair-greying effects this case had taken me through.      "Yes, your honor. I'll like to call Kate Anderson to the stand." District Attorney Jake Denver calls my client's wife as the first witness. This case makes it the third time I had a battle with counselor Jake. I had won the first two and knew a third victory was within my grasp. The prosecutor is wearing a finely made suit that must have cost him a large chunk of his annual salary. Maybe, he also feels confident of a victory for his earlier trials’ suits paled in comparison to today's clothing. We both exchange unfriendly stares during our march to the stand.       "Mrs. Anderson, how best would you describe your relationship with your husband?" Counselor Jake begins questioning after the witness had sworn the oath before the court.      "I had met Kenneth when I was just fifteen. We married a year later, and he was caring at first. The more we grew older, the more ambitious he got; the bigger the crimes he committed, and the worse he became as a husband and father. I saw him become a monster right under the same roof." Her voice sounds shaky yet convincing enough to be felt.       "What bigger crimes did you say he committed, Mrs. Anderson?"      "The drugs, the killings, bribery, assassinations…he even took our boy. (Sobs) He killed my boy, our goddam only child!"      "Objection. Speculative. Your honor, prosecution is diverting from the main course." I am quick to bring Mrs. Anderson back to order. We are here for the murder trial of the late congressman, so I did not understand why she wanted to talk about their son's death.      "Granted. Proceed with the main course of the trial, prosecution." Judge McKinney's goodwill seems to lean toward me today.      "Yes, your honor. My apologies. So Mrs. Anderson, did your husband, Mr. Kenneth Anderson, had a personal relationship with the late congressman Jon Wilson?" Counselor Jake continued with his questions, not after giving me a scornful look.      "Yes, he did."      "Can you describe their relationship? How close was the late congressman Jon Wilson to your husband?"      "They were very close. Jon Wilson was our family personal lawyer when we first moved here from Queens..."      "…Your honor, just for further clarification. By here, you are implying San Francisco, California, right? And by Queens, you mean from New York?" I directed my question to Mrs. Anderson while cutting her off. I was expecting a kick-back reaction from counselor Jake about obstruction of his questioning session, but none came forthcoming.      "Yes. We moved from Queens, New York to San Francisco. Jon Wilson helped in giving legal advice and also served as the lawyer for Hive of Freedom, our family business. He was very close to us back then." I observed Mrs. Anderson as she testified against her husband. While my defense team had expertly prepared for it immediately after her name appeared on the prosecution witness list. I could not help but wonder what would make her go against her husband of almost thirty years.      "He was your family and business lawyer for the first two years of your family stay in San Francisco, Am I right?" The prosecution continued the questioning.      "Yes, he was."      "What happened thereafter that made him leave Hive of Freedom and stopped being your family's personal lawyer?"      "He found out about Kenneth's dirty secret. The drug business and he couldn't continue to shed from it, so he quit being our lawyer. He left for his own safety."      "Can you help the court here by stating the year the late congressman Jon Wilson started working with Hive of Freedom and when he left?"      "We moved to San Francisco in February 2010, and he started working with us the same month. He left middle of 2012."      "What had been the relationship between your husband and the late congressman Jon Wilson this past decade that he was no longer your family lawyer?"      "After he left, we never heard from him again except when he won the federal house of rep election four years ago. Then I started seeing more of the honorable lately when Kenneth became interested in the political scenes."      "Did your husband establish contact with late congressman Jon Wilson weeks after his death, Mrs. Anderson?      "Yes, he did. Kenneth and the congressman had a series of meetings weeks before he died."      "And do you know where these meetings took place?"      "All of the meetings I'm aware of took place at our home. The last one was three days before Jon's death."      "And do you know what these meetings were all about? Have you any idea about what the two men discussed?"      "They were discussing some business deal according to Kenneth, that would help ease the recent pressure of the FDA on narcotics in San Francisco. They argued a lot and I overheard Kenneth threaten the late honorable on numerous occasions during these meetings." I watch on, waiting for my shot at cross-examination. Counselor Jake didn't scare me. I was more interested in the wife of my client. Meanwhile, Mr. Anderson, the accused, is standing in the trial box, handcuffed as he watched his beloved wife destroy him alongside the enemy.      "Were you sure of these threats? If yes, can you be more specific about them?"      "Kenneth threatened to kill the congressman if he didn't accept to do his bidding. Kenneth also threatened his family on another occasion." One could feel the confidence growing in Mrs. Anderson's voice, unlike when she first spoke. I look her straight into the eyes only to find anger. Whatever issues she had with her husband must have been serious.      "Mrs. Anderson, do you know exactly what bidding your husband sought from the late congressman Jon Wilson?" Counselor Jake is about to wrap up his session.      "Kenneth wanted Jon to push favorable motions supporting narcotic sales in the house. But more importantly, he wanted the congressman to use his connections to help kill off the recent investigations of the police into Hive of Freedom."      "Thanks, Mrs. Anderson. That'll be all for now."   ***        During the short break in the session, I look behind me to find a fuller courthouse. More people must have come in after my arrival. I could see my boss, Martha Stewart, with the some of my colleagues from the office watching intensively. This is a significant public case. It is the murder trial of the late councilman Jon Wilson. Jon had great public affection from the people of San Francisco. Local and International media outlets are present to capture the trial. I had gone over my strategy with my defense team prior. They include David Kanpur, my long-serving assistant; Dorothy Goldstone, the company's head of strategy and criminal defense; Sandra Cullen, my assigned paralegal; and Edwin Ora, a co-counselor on this case. In between the break, I exchange winks with my client, trying my best to him uplift his spirits. This trial is only beginning; worse emotional fluctuations are still to come.       The break session was over, and I proceed to cross-examine the witness.      "Mrs. Anderson, please answer each question with only a Yes or a No, where applicable." I help read the instruction to her before starting my cross-examination.      "Leading up to the arrest of the accused, Mr. Kenneth Anderson, did both of you have any misunderstanding and, if possible marital crisis?" I begin.      "Yes. We're having issues because…"      "...Remember, Mrs. Anderson, a Yes or No will do." I remind her again of the simple rule.      "Were you and the accused, Mr. Anderson, on the brink of a marital divorce settlement before the arrest was made?"      "Yes."      "In the past, Mrs. Anderson, you have been brought to the stand under oath in a New York court to testify for the accused. Specifically on the tenth day of September 2007. Can you confirm this fact, Mrs. Anderson?"      "Yes."      "In your own words, Mrs. Anderson, as obtained from the trial transcripts: Kenneth is an ambitious man who learned the nightlife business from his early adult years in the street. He has since then acquired more knowledge and grown his business to the world-class standard it is now. I do not know Kenneth ever being involved in drugs, nor is he a criminal. He couldn't hurt a rat talk more than a human. Due to being a successful black man, he is a caring father who is falsely accused of dealing drugs. Kenneth has always been clean since I married and never dealt with drugs. Were these your own words on that day on the stand? Yes or No, Mrs. Anderson?" I didn't need a copy of the court trial transcript to read her words, for I had memorized them all. Signs of her cracking were beginning to show, so I need not push any much harder.      "Yes." Tears ran down her cheeks, albeit slowly. Mrs. Anderson's soft sobs run through the whole courtroom. I have zero pity for her.        "You claimed that the accused had met the late congressman Jon Wilson on numerous occasions to discuss business? With both men being one of the few notable persons of color in our San Francisco community, how certain are you that these business meetings weren't targeted at helping other members of their mutual racial community? Could there be a possibility that those meetings or targeted motions at the house of reps were to help their common racial community as stated by the accused? Even a slight possibility, Mrs. Anderson: Yes or No?" I continue.       "Maybe some of the meetings discussed that. But I heard what I heard…."      "...A Yes or No answer would suffice Mrs. Anderson." I berate her again for failing to stick to the simple instruction. I didn't like that she managed to finish her lines before I could interrupt her.      "Is there any slight possibility of the two men discussing helpful motions toward the black racial community of our society, Mrs. Anderson?" I repeat my question, hoping to get a better answer this time.      "Yes. There is."      "Mrs. Anderson, it's your word against the accused. A bereaved mother and spiteful wife against her successful husband who had managed a successful business for over twenty-five years with zero criminal records. This is a man…."      "...Objection your honor, the defense is trespassing. Stick to the questions." Counselor Jake was quick to interrupt my gaining momentum. I look toward Judge McKinney for a window, and luckily, he allows it to pass.       "Objection overruled. The defense can proceed further."      "Thanks, your honor. Mrs. Anderson, this is the same man you falsely accused of murdering his only son at the slightest chance, despite all evidence pointing to a faulty helicopter crash as the cause of Junior's death. If your assertions that the accused has had a long history of illegal involvement in drugs, doesn't that imply that you lied under oath back in September 2007 in the New York high court? Did you lie under oath back then in 2007, Mrs. Anderson?"      "Yes. I lied but…."      "No further questions. That will be all for now." I cut her off, and the session came to an end.

(Trial Case: State vs. Kenneth Anderson) continues.        The trial resumes with more witnesses called to testify for or against Mr. Kenneth Anderson, the accused. The shared evidence I knew of at the start of the trial that morning were: 1. Phone calls and text message recordings between Mr. Anderson and the late congressman proved they were constantly communicating during his death. 2. GPS location proved that the two men met at my client's home. 3. A testimony from Mrs. Claire Wilson (Jon's wife) that the deceased had found out that Mr. Anderson knew about his police contacts.  4. And lastly, a timeline of events linked my client to specific New York, California drug lords, and some international criminals.       I could easily dismiss evidence number four due to the line of the job of Mr. Anderson. As an owner of five-star standard nightclubs around the country, it is reasonable to attract customers of questionable characters. I also built up a strong case against evidence number one and two. Both were notable black men who wanted to help the black community hence; the frequent meetings and personal relationships. Evidence number three wasn't strong enough since the deceased could no longer testify against my client.       The whole trial was going according to the plan till now. My head aches a little while my legs beg to be retired for the day. It is now time for the prosecution to call up its last witness for the day. His name reads Speed J. Washington, a last-minute addition to the prosecution witness list. Mr. Washington served as a long-time personal bodyguard for my client and had minor criminal charges in the past.       As the six feet nine inches giant of a man walks down to the stand, he captures the gaze of everyone present in the courtroom. Despite wearing a long-sleeved tee shirt, his overtly tattooed body looks visible for all to see. They run through his neck, hands, and parts of his face. To say he is a scary man is an understatement.      "Mr. Speed Washington, can you introduce yourself to the entire court?" Counselor Jake opens the testimony.      "I'm Speed Washington, a childhood friend of Kenneth Anderson, and his personal bodyguard for the past twenty years."      "How best can you describe Mr. Kenneth Anderson?"      "Kenneth is an ambitious man. He has always been like that from our childhood days but now in adulthood, he became worse. Simply put, he's a killer. He deserves to rot in jail for all his crimes."      "Objection. Badgering and irrelevant." I call the giant man to order.      "Sustained." Judge McKinney acknowledges.      "Mr. Washington, you came forward to the police in the middle of this case to testify against your long-time boss. Can you tell the court why?" Counselor Jake has a smug face while he waits for the reply. He had something up his sleeves. I could feel it but couldn't tell what it might be. Mr. Anderson had assured me that Speed Washington would provide little harm to the case. Now I wished I never took his word for its worth.      "Yes, I wanted to help prove that he was guilty of killing the congressman and even more deaths."      "And how did you help with the proof?"      "I already handed it to the police."      "Can I play this proof to the whole courtroom?" Counselor Jake asks for the Judge's approval. He went back to the prosecution table and brought forward an audio player with a flash drive. I'm mad at his dirty tricks.       "Objection. Your honor, the prosecution never disclosed such proof with the defense, incriminating whatever evidence they might have." My voice was at its highest volume at this point. The smug on the prosecution counselor's face had now turned to a full-fledged smile. Of course, the Jury and everyone else in the courtroom would be interested in knowing whatever last-minute evidence the prosecution team had. "Overruled. Proceed with the evidence, prosecution. A defense reopening can be allowed after this trial." Announced Judge McKinney. For once, his goodwill failed to aid me. "As your honor wishes." With that, the prosecution plays an audio recording of my client, which had his confession of ordering the murder of the late congressman Jon Wilson. The audio recordings lasted almost one hour, with a recess in between. Mr. Kenneth Anderson's various self-confessions about a death of a rival club owner and drug dealings were also on the tape.       Smarty pants, Counselor Jake Denver is quick to explain why the audio note is a piece of new evidence. According to him, the audio evidence had just been brought forward to the police the night prior, explaining the overnight change in the prosecution witness list for the final trial.  As I stood there waiting for the trial to adjourn for a defense reopening, I couldn't help but accept defeat. There was no coming back from this failure, I thought to myself. But, on the other hand, they say nothing is impossible, and one must prepare for the worst. Well, both scenarios turned against me. Finally, my failure would continue for another day for the Judge extended the trial to another hearing.   ***        "You were murdered back there, Avery!" Martha Stewart hit on me immediately after we step into the limousine. Our drive back to the office is full of more lamentations from my colleagues, particularly Edwin Ora. He had every right to be angry at me because he suggested we followed through with the last-minute change in the prosecution witness list, but I had other plans. I was more concerned with perfecting my winning strategy on the ground than following through with a prosecution last-dice-move. Now I admit I was wrong.      We attempt to re-strategize and re-evaluate all options on the ground with the presence of new evidence. The plea bargain from the prosecution is off the table, so the only option is to go again in the subsequent trial. I would face off the prosecution with my best defense, but it wasn't enough. As I stood, leg shaking, I heard the Judge pronounce a life-imprisonment sentence for my client at the final hearing. The Jury had made their decision, and justice will always prevail. Finally, my court-winning streak, which stood at 14-0, is brought to an end by a finger-chewing attorney in counselor Jake Denver.      While I know that this defeat will hurt my steady career progression, a part of me still feels peaceful knowing that an evil man would be rotting away in jail for his crimes. My ego and my conscience are always in a constant battle in my line of work. State vs. Kenneth Anderson was my most significant case yet, but little did I know that something bigger was only a few months away!

Present day. San Francisco, California         "Aunt Avery! Catch!"     "Shit Kelvin, that hurt!" I scream as the soccer ball hits me hard around my temple region. He giggles away with no apology for his action. Not that I expected one from a six-year-old child, but it would have helped my anger a bit.       As I step into their living room, I ask about my sister's whereabouts. "Where is your mama, boy?" He still ignores me, throwing his ball high up into the air and catching it as it lands. My visit here has become more frequent than usual, for I have nowhere to go these days. Sofia, Kelvin's mom, is my closest family. She is my foster sister, for her birth parents adopted me in my early childhood days.      "Oh...You came in early. Are you waiting for dinner?" Sofia calls out as she steps into the living room. She must have been busy in the kitchen, for her hair smelt of grilled bacon and flour.       "I'm not sure I'll need one. I just need some wine to clear my head from that asshole of a man."      "Did he hurt you real bad this time, Avery? What did the bastard do to you?" My sister's voice sounded like the cries of a mother hen defending her chicks. I had rushed down from work to share the story of my latest failed relationship with a woman who, ten years prior, had never seen me as her family. I'm glad that long and heart-wrenching episode of fake sisterhood is over.      "He cheated! Not once or twice nor five times. And he lied to my face all this while. Gosh..," Tears already formed in the corners of my eyes. I've been doing a great job holding all that emotional pain throughout the day at work, but now I have found solace in my sister's company.      "I already knew he was up to no good. You could tell from his shit face and fake stories. So how did you get the bastard to admit it?" Sofia moves closer to me on the couch where I am seated. The living room is large enough to house three other sofas, but I guess sisters always love being in each others' faces. A loud bang from the other side of the room pause our conversation. "Oh God, what did you break this time, Kelvin!" Sofia runs over to where Kelvin stood. Pieces of the glass from the broken portrait scattered over the floor.       "Mummy, sorry…" I can barely hear the rest of my little nephew's plea for mercy from his mother because of the distance from where I sat - no thanks to the size of their living room. Their living room could swallow the whole of my apartment and still have room for a mini garage.       "Why don't you go play in the garden, Kelvin? But first, you have to clean up your mess and make sure to tell daddy about all these on his arrival." Sofia hands over a broom to the child. The way she handled the situation was way better than I would have imagined.       "How about we talk in the kitchen?" Sofia turns to me before leading the way to the kitchen. "The lasagna should be ready by now."      "So where were we?" I ask, still interested in telling my story.      "You were gonna tell me how you caught the cheat. How did it go down?" We stare at each other faces. Sofia still had the beauty of her youth, for no stranger could guess she had crossed the forty years mark some weeks ago. I know she wants the main gist, so I make it quick.      "It was Amanda. Amanda Darlington from way back in law school. I had introduced both of them during the DoJ's legal charity dinner, and I guess he collected her number then. The sneaky, corny fool. He slept at my place on Tuesday. A strange number kept calling him that night, and he would sneak out of the bedroom to answer it. I got curious and checked his phone while he was asleep to find out that he had been texting Amanda since the dinner night. They even slept together not long after that day and numerous times again. It was all there, Sofia! Still, the bastard kept lying even with the glaring evidence." I manage to narrate the story despite the sobs in between my sentences. Having such a good listener in Sofia that I can always confide in, is solid treasure. Surprisingly she rarely shared her struggles in return, and maybe she had none - so I thought.      "Mummy! Mummy, they've got King Lucas! It's on the news!" Kelvin came running into the kitchen at full speed. We had barely spent a second since his last ordeal, and now he was back again with another distraction.       "Who got who?" But, of course, Sofia had no idea of whatever her son was saying.       "King Lucas! The sack king, they've got him. The police got him in cuffs like some criminal. He's my favorite football player, and they arrested him!" I feel pity for the little boy, having now understood him. The name King Lucas is familiar to me, all thanks to watching Monday Night Football show with Gary, the cheat. We all head back to the living room to watch the breaking news report on the arrest story.       Lucas Morales, a defensive end for the San Francisco Rangers of the NFL, had been arrested by the police for a yet-to-be-specified reason. The live footage of the arrest scenes was playing on the eighty inches TV set in front of us.  Kelvin cries as we watch on with emerging rumors about the high-profile arrest. I pick Kelvin up and sit him on my lap to console his broken heart.       My phone rings out loud. It's my boss from work who was calling. "What does she want from me again?" I grumble before answering the call.      "You know it's almost six?" I began the conversation, already knowing what was to come.       "I wouldn't have called you in if it wasn't urgent. Please, Nelson, can you get back to the office in thirty minutes?" Her voice feels as commanding as always. Martha tops my most powerful women list, for she made even the boldest male counselors tremble at her presence.       "Do I have a choice?" I reply with a sarcastic undertone.      "Of course you do, Nelson. Get your ass here before 6:30 or kiss your paycheck bye-bye." Immediately she cut the call. It was a perfect boss move from Attorney Martha Stewart, the Managing Partner of Stewart Dobson LLP.       "We will talk later, Sofia. I got a call from the office, and it sounds urgent. I have to get going." I bid them goodbye while giving my little nephew a slight hug. After that, I hurriedly leave for my office. I would never risk annoying the crown queen of our highly esteemed firm.   ***        I arrive at Stewart Dobson LLP before 6:30 p.m. to meet Martha in a meeting with my new assistant, Andrew Cook, in conference room number four.      "I'm here, Ma'am," I announce my presence immediately as I step into the room, not wanting to overhear their earlier discussion.      "Good of you to come on time Nelson. You can have your seat. We're just starting the meeting." Martha motions me to the closest seat to her right hand. She's barely a couple of years older than me. Despite her young age, Martha has been running the firm exceptionally in the absence of her dad, a founding partner.      "So what are we looking at here? A new case?" I ask, trying to fake a show of interest.      "It's a big one. In fact it's the real deal, Nelson. We can't afford to lose this one like the last one." She passes a file across to me. Her reminder of the Kenneth Anderson case hurts me. I understood what she implied. I am glad she considered me again for another big case.      I glance through the file, reading only the highlighted lines. It is the Lucas Morales case. The same man I had watched getting arrested minutes ago on TV. An internationally famous football player like Lucas attracts media publicity. A case like this is enormous potential for the firm's reputation. Coming out victorious should the case go to trial would also help my career back on track.      With zero hesitation, I accept her offer. "I'll do it."      "No mistakes this time, Nelson. You sure you're ready to go for another big trial?" I can sense doubt in her words. Martha do have a point.       "There is a reason why you called me in, Martha. Though I'm not sure why you called him too." My eyes turn to the two-month-old intern sitting directly opposite me.       "Cook was just around the corner in the office, so I called him in. After all, he's your assistant and will work with you on this case." Unfortunately, I am yet to have a good relationship with my new assistant. He is nothing like David, my former assistant. Poor David had to suffer from the aftermath of our failure even though it was no fault of his.       I catch a stare from Andrew just as I insert the file into my handbag. He looks away almost immediately. "I trust you on this case, Nelson. You got no time to waste though. Take Cook along with you on this case. You all can leave now." Martha dismisses both of us.       As we walk out of the office together, I struggle to understand why a handsome young man in his late twenties with such an affluent background would be so bad at social interactions. My relationship with Andrew had been non-existent thus far, primarily due to his poor communication skills - although my coldness toward him didn't help either.      "Do we need to go over the case tonight, or what do you think?" Finally, Andrew breaks the ice. I would have loved to invest my time in this case immediately, but my body had other ideas. My head is feeling heavy already from the little wine from Sofia's kitchen. I need a sharp mind to tackle a new case.      "How about we meet tomorrow morning at 7a.m? We could go on from there. You can review the case files tonight, though, for more insights. I've to get going, Andrew. I need some rest." I head straight home, leaving Andrew at the office. All through my drive home, I could feel a new energy building up inside me. Thankfully this case would need all that energy and even more.