Read Online The Defense: A Novel by Steve Cavanagh - Free Book Online
Authors: Steve Cavanagh
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member of the Bratva, this man is living under a death threat. In this trial, this man will be known as Witness X.”
Miriam paused for effect, allowing me time to read over the notes I’d just written. I reread the phrase This man is living under a death threat and underlined it. Twice.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Miriam talked for an hour about the burden of proof. She explained to the jury that they must be satisfied of Volchek’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. The jury nodded throughout this portion of the speech, and Miriam went on to explain what pieces of evidence would satisfy that burden.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the first witness you will hear from the prosecution will be Dr. Irving Goldstein, the eminent forensic document examiner. He is a man who examines pieces of handwriting to determine who created them. Dr. Goldstein knows the defendant’s handwriting from public documents that we, the prosecution, have obtained. He can then look at another sample of handwriting and determine with scientific accuracy if the defendant wrote it or not.”
Those expensive high-heeled shoes of Miriam’s clicked over to the prosecution table, where she picked up what looked like some form of currency in a sealed plastic evidence bag.
“This is prosecution exhibit twelve. This is an old, one-ruble bill that has been torn in half. One half is unmarked; one half has a name written on it in marker pen. That name is Mario Geraldo , the victim in this case. Witness X will tell you that he was given one half of this note—the unmarked half—by his boss, the defendant, Olek Volchek, and when he was subsequently given the other half of the note with the victim’s name on it by an unknown messenger, that was his order to kill the victim. Witness X will tell you that this was the MO for the Russian mob; this was how the orders to kill were handed down by the defendant. How do we know the defendant wrote the victim’s name on the bill? Well, that’s where Dr. Goldstein comes in. Dr. Goldstein will tell you that the handwriting on this note matches exactly with the defendant’s handwriting.”
Miriam paused, the note still held aloft in her hand. This was the game changer. This evidence would blow his bail for sure. Several of the jury members fixed Volchek with a stern look.
I rocked back in my chair and folded my arms before whispering to Volchek in the seat beside me, “Lean back. Smile. The jury is looking at you. Pretend that you’re relaxed. The jury will think we’re not in the least concerned about this evidence and that we’ve got it completely covered.”
We both smiled.
“You’re shitting me, right? How the hell did you get bail in the first place?”
“The prosecution didn’t have this evidence for the arraignment. They only produced the handwriting report at the beginning of the year,” said Volchek.
I thought for a moment. “Why the hell would you write down an order for a hit? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Tell me she’s lying and we’ve got something to challenge this,” I said.
Volchek’s smile disappeared. His brow furrowed, and his voice deepened. “Do not presume to know anything about me or how I run my business. This is the old way. Back in Soviet Union, the gangs ran wild, but there was always loyalty to the boss. That loyalty did not always extend below, to the vor —what you would call the soldiers. If a soldier wants to move up in the Bratva ranks, the easiest way is to kill his biggest rival. But he cannot do this himself. Instead he uses other soldiers. He tells them that the boss, the pakhan , has ordered the rival to be killed. The other soldiers obey absolutely, and the pakhan knows nothing until it’s too late. I’ve seen entire Bratva kill one another in this way. I use the old way to make sure this does not happen. The old way is this,” he said, pointing to the exhibit just as Miriam lowered her hand and slowly walked back to the prosecution
Miriam paused for effect, allowing me time to read over the notes I’d just written. I reread the phrase This man is living under a death threat and underlined it. Twice.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Miriam talked for an hour about the burden of proof. She explained to the jury that they must be satisfied of Volchek’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. The jury nodded throughout this portion of the speech, and Miriam went on to explain what pieces of evidence would satisfy that burden.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the first witness you will hear from the prosecution will be Dr. Irving Goldstein, the eminent forensic document examiner. He is a man who examines pieces of handwriting to determine who created them. Dr. Goldstein knows the defendant’s handwriting from public documents that we, the prosecution, have obtained. He can then look at another sample of handwriting and determine with scientific accuracy if the defendant wrote it or not.”
Those expensive high-heeled shoes of Miriam’s clicked over to the prosecution table, where she picked up what looked like some form of currency in a sealed plastic evidence bag.
“This is prosecution exhibit twelve. This is an old, one-ruble bill that has been torn in half. One half is unmarked; one half has a name written on it in marker pen. That name is Mario Geraldo , the victim in this case. Witness X will tell you that he was given one half of this note—the unmarked half—by his boss, the defendant, Olek Volchek, and when he was subsequently given the other half of the note with the victim’s name on it by an unknown messenger, that was his order to kill the victim. Witness X will tell you that this was the MO for the Russian mob; this was how the orders to kill were handed down by the defendant. How do we know the defendant wrote the victim’s name on the bill? Well, that’s where Dr. Goldstein comes in. Dr. Goldstein will tell you that the handwriting on this note matches exactly with the defendant’s handwriting.”
Miriam paused, the note still held aloft in her hand. This was the game changer. This evidence would blow his bail for sure. Several of the jury members fixed Volchek with a stern look.
I rocked back in my chair and folded my arms before whispering to Volchek in the seat beside me, “Lean back. Smile. The jury is looking at you. Pretend that you’re relaxed. The jury will think we’re not in the least concerned about this evidence and that we’ve got it completely covered.”
We both smiled.
“You’re shitting me, right? How the hell did you get bail in the first place?”
“The prosecution didn’t have this evidence for the arraignment. They only produced the handwriting report at the beginning of the year,” said Volchek.
I thought for a moment. “Why the hell would you write down an order for a hit? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Tell me she’s lying and we’ve got something to challenge this,” I said.
Volchek’s smile disappeared. His brow furrowed, and his voice deepened. “Do not presume to know anything about me or how I run my business. This is the old way. Back in Soviet Union, the gangs ran wild, but there was always loyalty to the boss. That loyalty did not always extend below, to the vor —what you would call the soldiers. If a soldier wants to move up in the Bratva ranks, the easiest way is to kill his biggest rival. But he cannot do this himself. Instead he uses other soldiers. He tells them that the boss, the pakhan , has ordered the rival to be killed. The other soldiers obey absolutely, and the pakhan knows nothing until it’s too late. I’ve seen entire Bratva kill one another in this way. I use the old way to make sure this does not happen. The old way is this,” he said, pointing to the exhibit just as Miriam lowered her hand and slowly walked back to the prosecution
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