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I watch him pull papers from his briefcase. I can’t tell from where I’m sitting if it’s just the witness list or more, but I can see the staple. It looks like four or five pages. Sinead scans through each page, then flips back to the beginning. She runs her finger down the page before glancing up.
“I assume this is my copy.”
“Yes.”
When the paralegal speaks up and confirms Sinead’s statement, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a pen and highlighter. She marks up the document and turns it toward Tyler.
“Set up a time for me to interview each highlighted name.”
“Oh, please.”
Tyler mutters under his breath, but Sinead doesn’t flinch. She continues to bore her gaze into him until he nods.
“Camille will set them up and confirm the time.”
“I’ve underlined the items you listed but have not shared with us. Have those to me by the end of the day.”
I watch Judge Hutchens to see whether she appreciates Sinead’s assertiveness or whether she sees it as rudeness. Her expression is completely neutral, but she’s studying them both intently. She hasn’t interrupted, so I’m going with she’s fine with Sinead’s disposition. I think it’s hot.
“And do you have your witness and evidence list?”
Tyler adopts a smug mien, and I can practically see Sinead’s eyes wanting to roll. She twists and points to something Camille has in her lap.
“It’s right there. I sent it over Thursday evening.”
She reaches into her bag and pulls out an additional copy, which she hands the judge. She compiled a list of four character witnesses who are respected community members and not Italian-Americans. She has the foreman and building inspector on her list. They didn’t appear on the prosecution’s list, which shocked the hell out of me. There’s video evidence that gives me an alibi at the time of the bombing. I was Serafina’s bodyguard while she and Carmine had dinner with her sister and brother-in-law. There’re street camera images of me getting out of the limo and holding the door open for the women. There’s building footage of me entering and exiting, and footage from inside, showing me standing off to a corner. All of it has time stamps that show I didn’t leave and come back.
The owner of the site, relatives of the deceased gang members, and witnesses from the neighborhood are all on the prosecution's list. It doesn’t surprise me to see the family members of the UBN— United Blood Nation —affiliated gang members on there. Except neither man who died ever worked for me. At least not on the record. The reformed gang members I employ come from the Bronx into Queens to work. It’s not convenient, but I work with a transition program for young men and women.
The people I employ are all under the age of twenty-three. The gangs coerced them to join, and later the state incarcerated them. Now, they have left the gangs to start new lives. Getting them out of the Bronx for at least eight hours a day reduces the chances for recidivism. I didn’t have a choice about being born into a generations old Mafia family, and I can never leave. That’s why I help people get out of their situation. I get where they’re at.
I watch Sinead jot down something in a notebook she pulled from her bag. I can see her circle it, but she holds it in a way that neither Tyler nor Camille can see her notes. She angles it so I can see. The name shocks the shit out of me. Maybe Cohenour wasn’t all talk. Maybe there were some hints of truth to what he said.
It doesn’t take long to finish the conference since Tyler offered no agreements, and we wouldn’t have taken any. Judge Hutchens, Sinead, and Tyler are discussing further discovery and projected trial dates. Part of me would be happy for it to never come, while another part of me just wants it over. I hate limbo.
ChapterSix
Sinead
“Gabriele, their witness list is filling out, but they still don’t have anyone who can definitively link you to the crime. After I interview the witnesses I want to see, I may have grounds for the motion, but it’s going to be a hard sell. My gut says I need to wait to use that card.”
When we got back into the SUV, I showed him my notes on the papers Camille handed me, then I showed him the name I wrote in my notebook. I didn’t expect to see a name I suspect is connected to the Polish Mob. It was a security guard where the bombing happened. It made me think of a name I heard a while back. Someone important in the Polish Mob; I just don’t know how.
Gabriele’s expression went blank when I looked at him. He cautioned me that the Polish Mob might send someone to Cohenour's trial if he persists in spreading rumors about them. To him, it was clear someone tipped off the Polish Mob about the rumors. It makes me wonder if it was Salvatore or Massimo. I don’t think it was Gabriele.
His tone hardens compared to when we started talking about next steps in the car. It makes me uneasy.
“I agree. But I don’t want you interviewing Jacek Nowakowski alone. He’s Bartlomiej Nowakowski’s younger brother. Bartlomiej is strategic and likes to keep his friends close and enemies closer. Right now, we’re friends. But Jacek lashes out then thinks. He won’t threaten you in front of anyone, but he will make sure you have a second, third, and fourth shadow to intimidate you. I know I can’t go with you to his interview. You have to let Uncle Massimo be there. Jacek’ll behave with ourconsiglierethere. Him or Luca.”
Gabriele's terrifying me now, but I force my voice to remain calm.
“Why Luca?”
“He’s our underboss. Uncle Salvatore won’t go because it’ll appear like we’re issuing the threat. Luca isn’t an attorney, but you can state he’s part of your team for that day. As ourconsigliere, it would be preferable for Uncle Massi to go. He’s an attorney, and his position is just as respected as Luca’s. He’s also known Jacek his entire life. The man’s uncles on his mother’s side used to do work for us. They wanted nothing to do with the old bratvapakhan. They paid us good money for our protection.”
I furrow my brow. I don’t know who these people are. But it sounds like the Mancinellis have been extorting them for years. I can’t believe Gabriele just admitted that. All of this confirms I’ve stepped into a world I know nothing about.
“Maksim Kutsenko is the current bratva leader. He’s ruthless and pretty much every stereotype of a Soviet hitman in movies. However, he’s night and day different from Vladislav Lushak, his predecessor. That man was what they make psychological thrillers about. He had enough psychotic tendencies to have the next DSM— that book psychologists and psychiatrists use that describes mental illnesses —written about him. The DSM-6 Lushak Edition. He was fucking insane. Certifiably, lock him up and throw away the keys, Hannibal Lecter fucking warped and twisted.”
