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Five hours later, the FBI was almost finished with its search, and the office felt like a hollow shell. We’d been allowed back into the conference room, where we spent the day wondering, whispering, and ordering takeout. Styrofoam clamshells filled the trash, and the aroma of leftover French fries permeated the air. Our new lawyer, John “Jack” Lynch III, had arrived half an hour ago, having taken the shuttle from Washington, D.C. He headed the White Collar litigation team at Contro & Lynch in Philly and was meeting with the FBI in the reception area. We awaited his return on tenterhooks.
Finally the door opened, and Lynch entered the room. His expression was no-nonsense on a handsome face, with sharp blue eyes and graying hair, and his build, in a boxy khaki suit, was similar to my father’s.
“How bad is it?” my father asked, having regained his footing afterLynch had been hired. They knew each other from Aronimink Golf Club, and Lynch had been club champ three years ago, which presumably made him a better lawyer.
“I have some preliminary information for you.” Lynch set down his legal pad and a gleaming black Montblanc. “John is in custody and has already consulted with his lawyer, Natalie Christiano. He’ll be arraigned before a magistrate judge in federal court tomorrow in Philadelphia. We’ll get a copy of the indictment then.”
“Okay,” my father said, and my mother exhaled a shuddering sigh. Gabby shifted closer to Martin.
I felt sorry for all of them. My parents were witnessing the downfall of their firstborn son and the destruction of everything they’d worked for. The firm they’d built to guarantee our future was devolving in disgrace. Gabby had been teary off and on, and I knew she was upset and ashamed. The media called all day until I unplugged the phone. Employees at our office complex gawked at the FBI raid, with agents in black SUVs.
Lynch continued, “They’ll give us an approximate time so you can be present at the arraignment. I assume you all want to go.”
“Yes, of course,” my father answered. My mother nodded.
“Okay, I’ll meet you there, and we’ll go together. It’s vital to show the court that John has the support of his family, especially in a situation like this one.”
“You mean because the firm has liability now, for his bad acts?”
“Yes. If family is present, it sends a signal to the judge and sets the tone for the rest of the case. Natalie tells me she will argue that John’s gambling addiction motivated his misconduct. She’ll find a way to introduce John to the court as someone who needs treatment.”
“Good point,” my father said, straightening.
“I’ve confirmed that the FBI search here was to obtain evidence insupport of an indictment for wire fraud, mail fraud, theft of honest services, and conspiracy in connection with a fraudulent billing and kickback scheme.”
My father looked sick. “So, it’s what we thought.”
“As bad as it gets,” my mother added.
Lynch’s expression softened. “Marie, allow me to suggest that it could be worse. This is white-collar crime, not a crime of violence. John’s misconduct was related to a gambling addiction disorder, which is mitigating. He’s in a position to make restitution to the clients, and so are you. So no, it’s not the worst thing in the world.”
My father asked, “Will they offer him a deal?”
“I suspect they will down the line, but I can’t guarantee anything. His hand isn’t strong. To the best of my knowledge, he has nothing to offer the government except for saving them the time and expense of a trial.” Lynch eyed my parents. “We have to leave the decision about whether John should plead guilty to him and his lawyer. I won’t be privy to those conversations, and you must avoid them with John. I was able to talk to Natalie today only because his arrest has just taken place. Going forward, we need to shut down communication, for John’s welfare and yours.”
My father nodded. “What about jurisdiction? This is federal, but does the state have jurisdiction, too?”
“Yes, but the feds take priority.”
“What I don’t get is how the FBI knew. We just discovered it last night.”
“Natalie said there was an undercover operation. The FBI set up a shell corporation, and agents pretended to be principals needing representation in a merger with another company. They hired John and introduced him to their accountant. Thereafter, John proposed a kickback.”
My father’s eyes flared. My mother’s hand went to her mouth. Gabby’s eyes filmed, and Martin put his arm around her.
“They have a strong case. The agents were wired and the meetings recorded. They have wiretaps of John’s phone, too.” Lynch paused. “Kickback schemes are risky because they depend on the complicity of regular people, not hardened criminals. Any one of them could have told their spouses or friends, or changed their mind and tipped off the FBI.”
My God. It rang true because it was what happened with Lemaire. I wondered if the FBI would link John or me to the murder, or liaise with the Chester County police. I also wondered if I should tell the FBI everything I knew about Lemaire’s murder, but I didn’t want to compromise John’s defense. My only choice was to sit tight for now. It would take time for the two jurisdictions to begin to cooperate, but I didn’t know how much time. I had to find Fake Elliott Thompson before he found me.
My father raised a finger. “I have one last question. What do you think we’re talking about in terms of sentence, if John is found guilty?”
“If I were his lawyer, I would advise him to plead guilty, and most white-collar indictments end in a plea bargain. Otherwise, for John, it’s from five to twenty years in prison.”
My father fell silent, stricken.
My mother looked down.
I caught Gabby’s eye, and we exchanged solemn looks.
