The Victim (53 page)

Mandy was part of the takedown team. The undercover john had set up a rendezvous in a room at the Eden Roc. The deal—prearranged by a recorded phone call—would be the “full experience” for a thousand bucks.

Desiree arrived and was promptly arrested. Mandy was coming off his shift and agreed to transport her back to the station for processing in his unmarked Dodge Charger.

In his statement to Internal Affairs, Mandy admitted that he put his lust ahead of his better judgment and had sex with her in the backseat of the car, having pulled behind a liquor store near the corner of Alton and 14th. Desiree said it was rape. There was no bruising or evidence consistent with an assault. But then again, she’d been handcuffed during the act. Mandy said willingly. She said otherwise.

Toxicology reports showed high levels of cocaine and MDMA in her blood, so IA knew that the State Attorney wouldn’t take the case.

Mandy stated that he promised Desiree that he would make the charges go away if she complied with his requests. This was her third prostitution arrest and she was looking at a felony.

“
I represented him in his negotiation with the Department,” Jack said. “What’s the attorney-client privilege now? He’s dead. Miami Beach agreed to keep the matter quiet. Believe me, they didn’t need the bad press either. In exchange, they let him resign with the condition that he forfeit his pension so that it could be paid out to the girl as a civil settlement. All parties, including the girl, signed a non-disclosure agreement.”

“
News said that Daniella made a screaming call to the police saying he tried to rape her. She got away, got his gun, and shot him.”

Jack shrugged. “Exactly. Old demons.”

They sipped their coffee quietly. A few lawyers stopped by to ask about funeral arrangements.

***

Judge Morales brought the jurors in one at a time, inquiring of each of them whether they had heard any news reports that morning involving a shooting that took place at the apartment of Daniella Avery. Media filled the courtroom. Four cameras were set up behind the railing. Rows of reporters holding digital recording devices occupied the benches. The
Herald’s
David Ovalle sat in the front row, tweeting updates.

Morales had been clear. The recent development in the case, the allegation that an investigator working for the defense had been killed in a supposed self-defense shooting in the home of the victim, raised concerns about whether the story had trickled down to the jury. The judge ordered Diego to line the jurors up outside and bring them in, where they were placed under oath and seated in the jury box.

After thorough questioning by the judge, the state and defense were given a chance to inquire of each juror what, if any, news coverage they had seen regarding the shooting.

With the exception of one, all of the jurors said that they hadn’t heard anything. Anton imagined that with their frenzied morning routines, trying to get out of the house in time to make it to court, few had bothered to check the news. If they had, a story about a shooting in Miami would garner little interest. There was at least one shooting in Miami-Dade County every day.

Celia DeMoya, the twenty-one-year-old master’s student, the only juror Anton felt could employ logic over emotion, admitted that she had clicked on a link via her Twitter feed and had read a story about the shooting death of Mandy Guerrero.

Erring on the side of caution, Judge Morales excused Celia and sat an alternate in her place; Barbara Medina, a fifty-one-year-old receptionist at a marble and tile supply company. Divorced with two adult daughters.

Bryan sat quietly, cross-legged, nervously shaking his foot. He seemed to be lost in thought, staring off into space. Anton imagined that being in custody, he wasn’t privy to the latest happenings in local news. He had probably found out about the shooting right there in open court, at the same time learning that his estranged wife had been messing around with another man.

“
Okay,” Judge Morales said after Diego had escorted Celia DeMoya from the courtroom. The jury was lined up outside but Morales wanted a few minutes to go over some housekeeping measures with the attorneys. “Are all parties satisfied that the jurors, with the exception of Ms. Celia DeMoya, juror number nine, have not seen nor heard anything about the events that allegedly transpired early this morning at the home of Daniella Avery?”

“
Satisfied, Your Honor,” Sylvia replied, still seated.

Anton stood. “Your Honor, while the jurors may have stated that they have not heard or seen any news footage that would impair their abilities to remain fair and impartial, I believe that the mere fact alone that a member of my defense team was shot and killed by the alleged victim in this case creates a situation whereby my client can no longer receive a fair trial.”

He knew he was grasping at straws but it was all he could do.

Bryan tugged his sleeve, pulling him closer. “What the hell are you doing?” he whispered.

Anton motioned for him to be quiet.

Judge Morales asked, “Defense, are you moving for a mistrial despite the fact that all seated jurors have testified that they have no knowledge of any incident involving your investigator and Ms. Avery?”

“
Yes, Judge. And it’s more than that. My investigator, who’s been an integral part of my preparation for this case, is dead. Personally speaking, I’m shaken up by it as well.”

“
Stop,” Bryan hissed. “Stop it. I don’t want a mistrial.”

Judge Morales glared at him. “Excuse me, Mr. Avery. Your attorney and I are talking.”

Bryan stood up. Anton held out his hand, trying to stop him, but Bryan pushed it aside. “Judge, I’m sorry. I know my attorney’s talking but he’s saying things that I don’t want. All this talk about a mistrial. Then what? I go back into custody? What about my speedy demand? I want this case resolved, Your Honor.”

Judge Morales took a breath to calm her nerves. The media was watching and she didn’t want to lose her cool.

“
Mr. Avery,” she said, taking the preschool teacher tone. “Your attorney has grave concerns about whether he can go on given the fact that a member of
your
defense team has died. And frankly I don’t blame him. I’m inclined to grant a mistrial but only if that’s what you want, sir.” Morales gave Anton a telling look. “I suggest that you take a minute to speak with your attorney before making this decision.”

Anton and Bryan sat, angling their swivel chairs to afford some measure of privacy.

Anton hunched forward. “Bryan, shut the hell up,” he said quietly. “We got killed with Vicki Brandt yesterday. The one juror we might have had just got booted, and to make matters worse, my investigator is dead.”

Bryan rolled his eyes. “He ain’t been here. He ain’t an integral part of this case. It’s just you, man. What do you need him for?”

Anton chewed on that one. Most of Mandy’s work in preparation for trial had been completed already. The only thing Mandy was working on for him was the Lola Munson connection, trying to find out the details of Frank Wheaton’s travel plans on the day she was killed.

“
Look,” Anton replied. “That’s not the point. The point is—as coldhearted as this sounds—this is a blessing in disguise. Vicki Brandt really hurt us.”

“
You don’t know that. The trial’s not over yet. You’re gonna crucify Daniella on the stand. And if that bitch thinks for one minute she can fuck around with some Hispanic guy while I’m locked up for shit I didn’t do, then she’s wrong. So what happens if we get a mistrial? It’s not like I’m a free man, right?”

Anton explained that if a mistrial were to be granted, the state would refile and Bryan would remain in custody without a bond until the new trial setting.

“
What about my speedy?”

“
Speedy’s satisfied the minute the jury’s sworn in. Unless we drop another demand, your case will be set for trial in the normal course.”

He winced. “No way. She screws around on me and I’m the one who has to stay in jail? No way. No mistrial. Full steam ahead.”

Anton stood. “Your Honor, my client wants to proceed with trial, despite my advice that we ask this court to grant a mistrial.”

Morales furrowed her brow, pursed her lips. She was contemplating the appellate consequences for allowing a trial to go forward given all that had occurred. She turned to Sylvia.

“
State, what’s your position? Have you had a chance to speak to Ms. Avery? Given what she’s reportedly been through, is she okay to proceed with her testimony?”

Sylvia stood. “Your Honor, I have reached out to Ms. Avery this morning. While we did not discuss the facts of what occurred last night considering the shooting is still the subject of an active criminal investigation, Ms. Avery has advised me that she still wants to proceed with trial and does not believe that the traumatic events that occurred this morning will affect her ability to testify.”

After the momentum shift with Vicki Brandt’s testimony, there was no way that Sylvia was going to stipulate to a mistrial. She wasn’t going to give Anton the chance to be better prepared the second time around.

“
Very well, Mr. Avery. For the second time during the pendency of your case, you and your lawyer appear to be at odds over what the best course of action may be. You wanted a speedy trial; you got it. Now some unforeseen events have taken place and the court is willing to grant you a mistrial, over the state’s objection. Your attorney wants me to grant the mistrial but you don’t. This is
your
trial, sir. You’re the one who has exercised this fundamental right.”

She hesitated, debating the pros and cons of the legal pickle she was in. Grant the mistrial and you do so against the wishes of the accused. Should he be convicted in a subsequent trial, it could be grounds for reversal. If she didn’t grant the mistrial, she did so against the advice of counsel.

“
Mr. Avery. You do understand that if I allow this trial to proceed, I am doing so because you want me to, right?”

Bryan stood. “Yes, ma’am.”

Morales sighed and had the clerk swear Bryan in. After a meticulous colloquy and determination that he was alert and intelligent, Morales denied the motion for mistrial.

“
It’s Friday,” she added. “What I would like to do is recess until Monday morning. Let’s allow everybody to take a long weekend to refresh.”

Everyone stood as the jurors came in and took their seats in the box. The judge advised them of the brief postponement and instructed all of them to refrain from reading the news or visiting social media sites until the trial was over.

CHAPTER 56

He felt like a trespasser, like he shouldn’t have been there. He had never felt that way before. Anton and Mandy always had an open door policy. Now, it was strange being in his office, Scarface leering down at him. The haze of dust floating in the air.

Yessenia had given him the key. Anton was careful, almost tiptoeing across the floor. Mandy was dead but the cops could still drop by to poke around, trying to figure out what he had done to get himself killed.

Anton had wavered back and forth all morning on it. He couldn’t justify it by thinking that Mandy wouldn’t do what he was being accused of doing. How did Anton know? Mandy had been lying to him for the past two months. Who knew what secrets Mandy had divulged to Daniella, whether he was playing both sides. Anton was aware of Mandy’s penchant for surveillance. He knew how to listen in on phone calls. Had he helped Daniella exact her revenge?

The iPad was lying on the corner of Mandy’s desk, weighing down a manila file labeled
fw
. The footage from the Templeton’s security cameras was still on it and Anton needed it for trial. Daniella would be testifying Monday and he planned to upload the footage onto a television monitor so that the jury could see that Bryan had been an invited guest.

He turned on the iPad and thumbed the touchscreen, trying to find the video file. He doubled tapped QuickTime but the file wasn’t stored there.

He remembered he had asked Mandy to email him the video.