The Madness of Joe Francis: "I thought we were all just having fun. I was wrong." (38 page)

Before they got into that, he asked her how big the motel room was. The best she could say was that it was a standard size. But Francis pressed for more detail. He asked her to describe it in relation to the courtroom, but she couldn’t do it.

“I don’t know. It was just an average hotel room. I don’t know.”

“Like an average motel room, right? Just a motel room? We’ve all been in a motel room. I think that I can stipulate to ‘it’s an average motel room.’ So there’s eight people …”

“Move to strike that comment, your honor,” Pontikes said.

“That wasn’t a comment. I’m just trying to help her along.”

“Mr. Francis,” Smoak said, sounding tired, “you are to ask questions only. In other words, everything you say needs to have a question mark after it. Do you understand that?”

“I’ll make it like Jeopardy, your honor.”

Francis then got back to how he brought her into the bedroom.

“How did I pull you? Did I grab you by the hair?”

“You grabbed our hands.”

“How were you pulled? Show the jury how you were physically pulled.”

She said he pulled both girls into the room.

“How were F1 and PV pulled onto a bed?”

“You grabbed our wrists and eased us into the room.”

“Eased? Now it’s eased? I thought it was pulled.”

Objection.

“I don’t understand the word eased. Can you explain what you mean?”

“You were touching my hand and you eased me into the room.”

Francis continued to ask her what eased meant.

“What’s the difference between eased and pulled?” V yelled, at the end of her patience. “You were still touching my hand. What is the difference? I still said ‘no!’ God!”

“It’s a straight question.”

Objection, arguing with the witness. Smoak called the attorneys to sidebar. Francis bobbed and gestured, trying to lock eyes with the judge to plead his case.

Smoak said to him, “It’s a matter that is very small. You are this close for me stopping the cross-examination. Now, get on to straight questions.”

“Got it,” Francis said. “The jury deserves to understand what happened in this room. She said ‘forced masturbation’ 40 times yesterday, and I deserve to defend the fact it wasn’t forced.”

“She’s given you an answer.”

“The ambiguity, what the hell does that mean?”

“This is not rocket science. She’s made it very clear that you got her by the hand or by the wrist …”

“No, no,” Francis said, bobbing and clasping his hands in front of him, “she later, she retracted that just now, your honor.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It really does, because …”

“Not that material, Mr. Francis, just move on.”

“OK. Fine. But I want to object because I think it’s proper. Ms. Pontikes said no less than 45 times yesterday ‘forced masturbation’ to antagonize and …”

“Move on to the masturbation. It doesn’t matter whether you were grabbing her hand or wrist,” Smoak said.

“The jury needs a picture.”

“You’re not doing a very good job.”

“OK, you’re right.”

“I would like to just make a statement for the record as well,” Pontikes said. “First, I renew my motion for default. Second, I would like the record to reflect, as we discussed yesterday, and Mr. Francis knows, that he has been convicted for procuring this minor girl into prostitution, which included the masturbation.”

“But not forced,” Francis insisted.

“That is a conviction,” Pontikes countered.

Francis insisted that it was a plea of no contest, meaning he didn’t admit guilt.

“Mr. Francis,” Smoak said, “we’re about to end your cross-examination. You better be as careful as you can be and get onto something important.”

Francis walked back to the podium and began again.

“What happened next?”

“We were eased into the room and then we sat on the bed. I don’t know if you started taking off your pants and pulling out your penis and rubbing our hands over it.”

“How does someone force someone to masturbate them?”

“By taking their hands and stroking your penis,” She’s crying now and yelling at him across the room. The microphone only makes the yelling more penetrating.

“Would it be correct to say, and truthful to say, that you were not forced to masturbate me? Is that the truth, Ms. Plaintiff V? Is that the truth?

“Yes, I felt like I was forced.”

“Thank you, what? You felt like you were forced, but is it the truth …”

“You were touching my hands, yes.”

“Holding your hand or touching, or forcing someone to masturbate me?”

“You were grabbing both of our hands at the same time and rubbing it on your penis. Doing the motions of jacking you off.”

“So you’re saying that I was forcing two women, with eight people in the room, to masturbate me? Is that your testimony today? After the allegedly forced masturbation, you got up to get a towel. If you felt like you were a victim, or had been violated in any way, why did you do that?”

“I was stuck in that situation,” V said, starting to calm down. “I remember getting you a towel, yes. I don’t remember why I did it. I didn’t know why I was doing anything that day.

“How much money are you claiming you received for this handjob?”

“One-hundred dollars for both of us.”

“Are you a prostitute?”

Objection.

“That’s a fair question your honor. If somebody says they were given money for sex …”

Sidebar.

Pontikes told Smoak that he’d specifically barred Francis from asking these kinds of questions.

“Your cross-examination is now finished,” Smoak said.

“Your honor, please …”

“You abused it.”

“Your honor, please let me just … I won’t …”

Pontikes interrupted, “Your honor, I need to say this for the record. The ruling in this court is that someone who violates Rule 412 is taken into handcuffs.”

“No, your honor,” Francis was pleading now. “No, your honor, I have not violated 412. Your honor, she said …”

Pontikes tried to continue, “I’m sorry, I’m talking …”

But Francis wouldn’t let her talk, “I’ll … you have to let me finish this.”

“Go sit down,” Smoak said to him, and as Francis and Pontikes were walking back to their seats, the judge turned to the jury. “Mr. Francis’s cross-examination of this witness has been concluded.”

“I’d just like to object for the record,” Francis said weakly.

Pontikes, however, had her own issue to bring up. The jurors were sent from the room.

.

Chapter 41

Contempt

S
he told Smoak that Francis had violated the 412 rule, preventing litigators in a sex case involving child pornography to go into the plaintiff’s sexual history.

She reminded the judge that Francis had brought up this exact point, the issue of prostitution in regards to Plaintiff V, earlier in the week and had been told he could not go into it.

The courtroom had to be cleared of everyone who wasn’t involved with the case so they could openly discuss details of the issue, which included examples of Plaintiff V’s history. A few minutes later, Francis came out in the hallway to talk to his crew. He had lost all of his usual swagger and looked slightly unsteady on his feet.

Smoak had agreed with Pontikes and found Francis in contempt of court. Those words alone coming out of Smoak’s mouth were unnerving for Francis. But Smoak had not ordered him to jail. Instead, the judge had fined him $2,500 to be paid by 8:30 the following morning.

But Francis was obviously shaken. He ordered Steph Watts to immediately begin looking for a lawyer.

The reporters drifted back into the courtroom. When Francis came back in, he looked over and gestured for me to follow him into the hallway.

“You know all the local lawyers, can you get somebody here to take this case?”

“I can make some phone calls.”

Lisa Dufort had followed us out.

“Go with David while he makes his calls. Get me somebody here now. As soon as I get a lawyer I’m getting out of here. I am not going back to jail.”

After the 412 hearing, he’d told the judge he wouldn’t say another word during the trial. He cleared the table of all his files and slumped down into his chair. Alone and defeated.

I went to my truck and got my cellphone. I knew who I wanted to call. I’d known Rachel Seaton-Virga for six years. I was also dating her mother. We’d talked several times about Francis’s case over the last few months and I knew that she had an understanding of the issues.

She was also quick on her feet and had the type of situational command that would work well in handling Francis.

“Want a job?” I asked her when she answered her phone.

“What job?”

I couldn’t play this out. I had to get to the point.

“Joe Francis needs someone to come out today and take over the case for him. I’m not kidding. You need to give me a flat fee amount that you would do it for.”

“I don’t know how effective I would be; I don’t know enough about the case.”

“You don’t have to be very effective. I think all they want is for someone to sit through the rest of the trial, try to make the appropriate objections to the plaintiffs’ introduction of evidence and do what you can to protect the corporations. They don’t expect you to be able to argue the case.”

“I don’t know what to ask for, how high I should go?”

“Go as high as you want. We’ll see what happens.”

She threw out a number.

I passed it along to Dufort.

“What about Gerard?” Rachel asked, talking about her husband and law partner.

“The fee would have to cover you both, but sure.”

I told Dufort that the flat fee would buy them two lawyers who could rotate in and cover each other’s cases. That way the office didn’t suffer during the trial.

Dufort walked off quickly to get the message to Francis. She came back with his offer. Half.

It was laughable. And incredible considering the tight spot he was in, but also entirely in character. Terrified of going to jail, he still wanted to lowball the lawyers who would be saving him.

I nearly did laugh, but said, “I’ll pass it along.”

Mantra’s business manager, Eric Deutsch had recently flown in from California and was standing next to me during the phone conversation. He suggested that the number Francis offered could be for just that day and the next, which would be Friday. If the trial went into the next week, they could renegotiate for more money.

“No can do,” Rachel said instantly. She knew Francis’ history with lawyers and she wasn’t going to put herself in a situation where she might be stuck on his case working for free.

The negotiations began. Deutsch strolled away with my phone pressed to his ear, trying to hammer out a price with her.

A few minutes later, they struck a deal. In less than a half hour, the time it took Rachel to change into a suitable outfit for federal court and drive to the courthouse, she became Joe Francis’ latest lawyer.

I stayed downstairs to wait for her so I could make introductions. She pulled into the parking lot with her cellphone pressed to her ear.

Only 30, Rachel had been a lawyer for six years and had never done a civil trial, let alone a federal civil trial. She’d worked a few years at the State Attorney’s Office where she developed a reputation as a hard-nosed trial attorney and a person who had no problem speaking her mind. But whatever she lacked in tact she made up for in loyalty to her clients.

Francis had just left the courtroom for the midmorning break. He trotted down the steps to meet his crew who were talking to Rachel at the door of her Toyota.

He took her elbow and led her away from the SUV, and kept her walking away from the television cameras. They continued to walk until they’d gone around the corner of the old public library across the parking lot. Dufort got in her Grand Caravan to go pick them up.

When they returned, Rachel was fully and easily in charge.

“You’re freaking me out a little,” she told Francis, who kept trying to lead her around by the elbow and tell her every thought that crossed his mind. “You’re going to have to settle down.”

When they entered the courtroom, Rachel took the seat that Francis had been sitting in all week. He bounced up from his chair to say something to her, but she did a pushing motion with her right hand and he sat. Good boy.

Smoak entered the courtroom and Francis stood, pointed a finger in the air and said, “Your honor …”

“No,” Rachel said. “You don’t speak.”

Francis sat.

Rachel introduced herself and said that her husband was efiling their notice of appearance. She was now the attorney of record on the case.

“We don’t want to slow things down. We’re ready to proceed.”

And the trial went on. The nervous ticks and twitches that plagued Francis earlier in the trial, faded away. He stayed active, leaning over to whisper in Rachel’s ear or talk to Steph Watts and Palladino. When Gerard Virga arrived, slipping quietly into the room and sitting to Francis’ right, Francis drew him into a long one-sided conversation.

When the lunch break was called, Gerard Virga announced that Francis had decided that he wouldn’t be returning to the trial until closing arguments. Francis would remain in the area for consultations.

“We don’t have any objection, your honor,” McCloy said.

“I have to listen to my counsel,” Francis said, making it sound like he was reluctant to leave. “This table isn’t big enough for three lawyers.”

“By no means do we mean to suggest that we prefer that Mr. Francis was not present,” Seaton-Virga said. “Mr. Francis would prefer that he not be present.”

“They’ve told me if they need me they’ll let me know. I don’t want any more trouble,” Francis said.

“Mr. Francis, you understand that you are welcome to return at any time,” Smoak said. He was sincere. Despite everything, Smoak was not angry. But the tension that had been on his face all week was gone now as well.

And the trial would change radically from that point on. The Virgas were polite to opposing counsel, made appropriate objections and argued without getting upset.