Research Foundation, in lieu of flowers. Poskanzer had given something like a thousand dollars in Sarah’s name.
“Don’t worry about it. I mean, least I could do and all that. You still . . . seeing . . . Lucy Lindstrom?”
Danny nodded. He wondered if even Jay Poskanzer had privately lusted after the It Girl back in the day.
“Lucky guy.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“So,” Poskanzer said behind his glass-topped desk, tenting his fingers. “I can see you’re nervous, Danny. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”
Danny took a deep breath, leaned forward in his chair, and started in, telling Poskanzer about the events of the past couple of days—his money troubles, the loan, the mysterious call, and the stunning discovery that the DEA was monitoring his bank records because of an ongoing investigation into Tom Galvin.
“Wait a second,” Poskanzer said. “Thomas Galvin?”
Danny nodded, unsettled by the urgency in Poskanzer’s voice.
“You know him?”
Danny nodded again.
“So they’re saying—so Galvin is suspected of laundering money for
Sinaloa
—a Mexican
drug
cartel?”
“Something like that.”
Poskanzer put a hand out like a traffic cop. “Sorry, I’m trying to wrap my mind around that.”
“It’s crazy, right?”
He gave a low whistle. “Oh, Jesus, Danny. This isn’t good, Danny. This is bad.”
Not what Danny wanted to hear. It hit him like a punch in the gut. Of course it was bad, but it was ominous to hear a criminal defense attorney say that. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“When Galvin transferred the funds, did you give him any kind of written understanding, a note, something?”
“It was a loan. I’m going to pay him back.”
“You have it in writing?”
Danny shook his head slowly. “A friend lends a friend money, you usually don’t sign a contract, right?”
“So the fifty thousand—it could be anything. A payment of some kind.”
“It could be, but it’s not.”
“You can’t prove it was a loan?”
“They can’t prove it
wasn’t
.”
“They don’t have to.” There was a long pause. “If the government suspects Galvin of laundering money for the Sinaloa cartel, or trafficking, or whatever—they’re going to use every weapon in their arsenal. Which means that sometimes the innocent bystander gets caught in the thresher.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You borrowed money from the wrong guy.”
“Okay, but I don’t know the first damned thing about drugs or Mexican cartels or . . . I didn’t do a damned thing wrong! Isn’t that all that really counts here?”
He exhaled slowly. “Unfortunately, no. You got caught in a major drug-trafficking investigation that has nothing to do with you. Like I said, the government’s gonna use every weapon they have, and in this case it means pressuring you until you agree to cooperate. The power, the advantage—it’s all on their side. It’s unfair, but there it is. You’re in a no-win situation. That’s the ugly truth.”
Danny swallowed hard. “Jay, you’re supposed to be the best lawyer in Boston.”
Poskanzer allowed himself the ghost of a smile. “Arguably.”
“So you’re saying, what, we can’t fight this?”
“Danny. Of course we
can
fight it. I’m here for you—whatever you want to do, I’ll do. But let me lay out the plain facts. The way the law works in this case, you do business with a criminal, the presumption is you’re a criminal. You can fight it, sure. But the odds are against you. When the US government decides to prosecute someone on narcotics charges?
They almost always win
. Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Do you know what the federal narcotics conviction rate is?”
Danny shook his head impatiently.
“
Over ninety percent
.” Poskanzer turned slightly and began tapping on his keyboard. “Here it is—ninety-three percent. That means ninety-three percent of people charged with ‘drug trafficking,’ however that’s defined, got
“Don’t worry about it. I mean, least I could do and all that. You still . . . seeing . . . Lucy Lindstrom?”
Danny nodded. He wondered if even Jay Poskanzer had privately lusted after the It Girl back in the day.
“Lucky guy.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“So,” Poskanzer said behind his glass-topped desk, tenting his fingers. “I can see you’re nervous, Danny. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”
Danny took a deep breath, leaned forward in his chair, and started in, telling Poskanzer about the events of the past couple of days—his money troubles, the loan, the mysterious call, and the stunning discovery that the DEA was monitoring his bank records because of an ongoing investigation into Tom Galvin.
“Wait a second,” Poskanzer said. “Thomas Galvin?”
Danny nodded, unsettled by the urgency in Poskanzer’s voice.
“You know him?”
Danny nodded again.
“So they’re saying—so Galvin is suspected of laundering money for
Sinaloa
—a Mexican
drug
cartel?”
“Something like that.”
Poskanzer put a hand out like a traffic cop. “Sorry, I’m trying to wrap my mind around that.”
“It’s crazy, right?”
He gave a low whistle. “Oh, Jesus, Danny. This isn’t good, Danny. This is bad.”
Not what Danny wanted to hear. It hit him like a punch in the gut. Of course it was bad, but it was ominous to hear a criminal defense attorney say that. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“When Galvin transferred the funds, did you give him any kind of written understanding, a note, something?”
“It was a loan. I’m going to pay him back.”
“You have it in writing?”
Danny shook his head slowly. “A friend lends a friend money, you usually don’t sign a contract, right?”
“So the fifty thousand—it could be anything. A payment of some kind.”
“It could be, but it’s not.”
“You can’t prove it was a loan?”
“They can’t prove it
wasn’t
.”
“They don’t have to.” There was a long pause. “If the government suspects Galvin of laundering money for the Sinaloa cartel, or trafficking, or whatever—they’re going to use every weapon in their arsenal. Which means that sometimes the innocent bystander gets caught in the thresher.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You borrowed money from the wrong guy.”
“Okay, but I don’t know the first damned thing about drugs or Mexican cartels or . . . I didn’t do a damned thing wrong! Isn’t that all that really counts here?”
He exhaled slowly. “Unfortunately, no. You got caught in a major drug-trafficking investigation that has nothing to do with you. Like I said, the government’s gonna use every weapon they have, and in this case it means pressuring you until you agree to cooperate. The power, the advantage—it’s all on their side. It’s unfair, but there it is. You’re in a no-win situation. That’s the ugly truth.”
Danny swallowed hard. “Jay, you’re supposed to be the best lawyer in Boston.”
Poskanzer allowed himself the ghost of a smile. “Arguably.”
“So you’re saying, what, we can’t fight this?”
“Danny. Of course we
can
fight it. I’m here for you—whatever you want to do, I’ll do. But let me lay out the plain facts. The way the law works in this case, you do business with a criminal, the presumption is you’re a criminal. You can fight it, sure. But the odds are against you. When the US government decides to prosecute someone on narcotics charges?
They almost always win
. Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Do you know what the federal narcotics conviction rate is?”
Danny shook his head impatiently.
“
Over ninety percent
.” Poskanzer turned slightly and began tapping on his keyboard. “Here it is—ninety-three percent. That means ninety-three percent of people charged with ‘drug trafficking,’ however that’s defined, got
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