Directed Verdict (Failed Justice Book 1) (14 page)

CHAPTER 26

It was agreed by all.

Actually Wally had no vote in the decision. He would take extended sick leave, he was suffering from an anxiety reaction and it was felt it would be best if his remaining obligation would be best served in a non-stressful environment. As to the environment, anywhere but the courthouse would do.

All his personal items would be boxed up and delivered to his home or wherever he wanted. His keys and security documents were taken from him. Wally stated he was volunteering them to the Chief Justice.

For all practical purposes, Judge Kolkolski was now persona non grata.

He was locked out of the only job he’d had for the past two decades.

He had no idea where he would go or what he would do. He was a judge without a courtroom, a man without a mission.

***

Bob Sugarman heard and wanted to reach out but could not, would not, do so. He was on the short list to replace Judge Kolkolski and it would not look good to be seen with him. Bob was now a regular at Saturday morning services and let it be known he would be pleased to volunteer for anything that was coming up. It would be nice if he could be on any committee chaired by Irv Weinstein.

I’ll kiss his pompous ass on the damn bema after Friday night services if that’s what it takes.

Mr. and Mrs. Sugarman wrote a rather large check, one they could ill afford, to the temple building fund. Bob made sure Irv heard about it. Now all he could do was sit and wait. And pray.

Something he was not used to.

***

Who was that little prick and how did he know my name?

Wally was obsessed. He now had a mission in life. Something to keep him busy. He wanted to know—no, he needed to know, who it was that had screwed up his plans for retirement. And was screwing his ex-wife in the process.

She knows who he is; she just has to know. She wouldn’t let some stranger stay at her place all night, would she? I’ll fly down and make her tell me. I’ll find a way. He won’t get away with this. I’ll make his life as miserable as he has made mine. I’ll kill the God damn son-of-a-bitch.

Wally had no idea how finding out would be so easy. He would be shocked at who was now apparently his ally.

The envelope came two days later. It carried no postmark. It had not been delivered by the USPS. On the front of the cardboard envelope was a sticker with his name and home address printed on it. There was no card or letter inside. All that fell out were two photos—presumably of the same person. The first photo was a mugshot taken at the Essex County jail. The subject was holding a plate with his name and booking number.

ANTHONY PAUL RICARDO

ESSEX COUNTY SHERIFF #371–449–8211

Wally had no trouble recognizing him.

Lucky little bastard.

The second photo was of a man coming out of Bernice’s house late at night. The man who called out his name. It was the same man, only now he was bald.

ANTONIO RICARDI

FORNICATOR—FREE MAN, THANKS TO YOU.

Wally just stared. His rage became uncontrollable. He was almost foaming at the mouth. He was as close to a heart attack as he had ever been.

Son-of-a-bitch. You little son-of-a-bitch. You’re the bastard who raped that girl and I let you go. That’s the thanks I get. I’ll kill you. God damn it, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.

Wally did not know the deliverer of the package was now sitting directly across the street with a spy cam and directional mike pointing at him. Had he been a bit more observant, Wally would have realized the wire running around the inside of the thick envelope was a mini transmitter and amplifier. The man sitting in the dark sedan was getting down every single word.

Gotcha.

The man marveled at the ease of getting the very latest in spy equipment for whatever assignment given him. Although Alexey had strong ties with the successor to the KGB and could make calls to the Israeli spy industry 24/7, it was a company that only sold on the internet that had the latest and greatest in whatever he needed.

Their prices were right and the equipment flawless.

Wally ripped the pictures in two and stormed out of the house. He had no idea where he was going. He needed to think. He needed to clear his mind. He needed to understand what he had done.

When he got back later that evening, the photos and the envelope were both gone. He assumed he had thrown them in the garbage but was too tired and too lazy to look.

All it would do was aggravate him all over again.

The man in the sedan was also gone. He had managed to get into Wally’s house, not very difficult, and plant a few bugs with transmitting devices. One in the bedroom above the night light, another in the living room under the end table, a third in the kitchen under a chair, and one in Wally’s land line.

Soon he would have everything he needed.

***

“Looks like he fucked both of us. I hope you’re now happy.”

“What are you talking about? It’s close to midnight and you sound drunk. When the hell did you start drinking?”

Wally sat in the living room next to the end table, with a half empty can of Miller Lite in one hand and his cell in the other. He was sorry he called Bernice, but he had no one else to talk to. He was all alone. And yes, he was drunk.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a rough day; a rough week, a rough everything. I screwed up, big time. I never should have done what I did.”

“What are you talking about?”

Wally then proceeded to tell his ex-wife about what he did at the trial of Victoria Cummings, the Russian girl who had obviously been raped. He said it was not the first time he had done something like that. He needed to purge, to get rid of the hate and disgust for the legal bile still clogging his system. It was the first step in healing.

“Why, Wally, why? You swore an oath when you became a judge.”

“The system sucks. It’s corrupt. It’s broken. No one gives a crap about justice. It’s all about winning. It is only about winning. The asshole DA that convicted poor Teddy—he didn’t give a crap whether he was telling the truth or not. All he wanted to do was win. By the way, Teddy never lied. I found out after he was killed the girl broke down and told her best friend that she had lied on the witness stand. She was afraid what her father would have thought of her. That’s why Teddy is dead today. Because some girl was afraid to tell her father she cared about our Teddy and was all too willing to go to bed with him.”

Wally began to sob into the phone.

“I did it for Teddy. I tried to make up for all the injustices suffered by those falsely accused every day. That’s why, Bernice. That’s the God damn reason why. Now do you understand?”

There was no reply. What could she say? He was her son also.

Wally dropped the phone. He was suddenly tired and wanted to sleep.

“Wally, Wally, are you all right?”

Wally was fine; he was just now fast asleep.

The voice activated device also went to sleep. The confession had been fully recorded.

CHAPTER 27

Alexey sat and listened. If it had not been his own daughter who had been the victim, he could have felt sorry for the judge. He now knew why. He understood and sympathized, but it was not enough. He still had a job to do.

Boris and Viktor were told to split up. One was to tail Anthony, the other the judge. They were to watch them from dawn to dusk for the next seven days. Alexey was looking for a pattern. We are all creatures of habit and that would eventually put them both in harm’s way.

Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.

It could just as easily have been said by Alexey Demetrius Kummovitch.

***

The Governor of the Great State of New Jersey decided to act quickly, before his desk overflowed with politically motivated requests. He was known for being quick in asking favors and could never quite find the time for granting them. A typical politician. As everyone knows, the governor carries a great deal of weight—both physically and politically.

He called Irv Weinstein.

Two days later, the announcement was made. It was now official. The seat on the bench, vacated by Walter A. Kolkolski, would be filled, for the remainder of the term, for the new Superior Court Judge for the Fifth Judicial District of the State of New Jersey, by the Honorable Robert Samuel Sugarman.

Bob Sugarman had received the call the day before but had been sworn to secrecy. He was beside himself as he cancelled all appointments, requested adjournments on pending matters, and paced his home.

He had not even told his secretary.

I’m going to be a God damn Superior Court judge. Holy crap. All because I learned how to play the game.

Not to mention the dozens of checks made to various political and charitable organizations. Money can buy anything. Even at times, respectability. Or so it would seem.

Little did Robert know that day how greatly this would affect him—and his old friend Wally Kolkolski.

***

So, Bob Sugarman, that money hungry, power hungry, little kike is about to be my new brother.

Chief Judge Steven Saltmeyer, a closet anti-Semite, sat at his desk thinking of ways to derail the newest member of the bench.

Irv can select all he wants, I set the rules. It’s still my bat, my ball, my rules.

The judge was not referring to baseball.

Judge Saltmeyer asked his secretary to call a next day emergency early morning meeting of the other judges—to welcome its newest member. The date for the swearing in ceremony had not been set yet. Salty wanted everyone to be prepared for what he had in mind.

The soon-to-be Judge Robert Sugarman would not be invited.

When Wally heard the news, he had mixed feelings. He had liked Bob from the very beginning. They had worked together, they ate and drank together, and they even shared a few personal war stories. But to now become a superior court judge, no way. He wondered how much Bob had contributed to the party.

This was a political payoff and everyone knew who had ever studied Poli-Sci 101 knew it.

Another case of justice being purchased by the pound; or was it the dollar?

Wally knew Sugarman was an ass kisser. He was a party lackey. He would do as he was told and not get his nose dirty. But dispensing justice; that was a whole other matter. It was not Wally’s concern. The only thing that mattered to him was Anthony Pauli Ricardo and how he could ruin his life, just like he ruined his.

Wally decided to drive to Ricardo’s neighborhood, just to see where he lived. How he lived. He was a lawyer, then a judge; he had absolutely no experience as a P.I. He never spotted the dark sedan with a single person in the front seat. Obviously, the driver recognized the judge. That was his job. To observe. Observe and report.

Judge K walked around till he stood across the street from where Anthony lived. It was a shabby neighborhood at best. When it got dark, all the gangbangers would rule the street. It was their turf. After a few minutes Wally became self-conscious. He didn’t want to be recognized. He turned around to leave. A boy in his late teens, early twenties was staring at him. He appeared to be slow.

“Hi Mister. My name is Donnie. Are you new here? I don’t think I have seen you before.”

Wally lowered his head and did not answer.

He had not seen Anthony peeking from behind the chintzy curtain and then quickly run out the back door. Anthony was wearing a hoodie.

He fit right in.

It was almost comical, like an episode of the Keystone Cops. Anthony was tailing the judge and Viktor and now Boris, were tailing the two of them. It never occurred to either of the henchmen they would run into each other. Viktor had been assigned to watch the judge and Boris was to keep tabs on Anthony. All four of them ended up within a block of Wally’s house. Only Boris and Viktor were driving. The other two had used public transportation. Boris had recorded Wally across the street from Anthony’s home and Anthony watching the judge walking up to his front door.

They now knew where each other lived.

Alexey was thrilled. He had now found the link he had been looking for. The one that connected one to the other.

Forever.

The parts to the puzzle were slowly falling in place.

Alexey decided to invite his daughter out to dinner again. He had reason to celebrate. Alexey was no stranger to celebrations. When he was living in St. Petersburg, it was all work.

He was paid handsomely for what he had done. Now was supposed to be the time to relax. So far, it had not worked out that way. Alexey was still a relatively young man and by most standards, a very wealthy and successful businessman. No one was quite sure what business he was in.

“Investments,” he would tell anyone who asked.

Few asked.

“America is the land of opportunity. Mr. Gates started in a garage with a high school friend. He dropped out of college—Harvard, I believe—and now look how rich he is. I represent investment bankers back in Russia. I find, they invest. We all make lots of money.”

***

Victoria knew her papa did not take her out to dinner, especially at a very expensive restaurant, without a reason. She was looking forward to dinner and the reason why.