The Whistler

38

The current federal grand jury was convened at 1:00 p.m. on Friday, October 14. When organized four months earlier, it had twenty-three members, all registered voters and otherwise duly qualified residents from the six counties that constituted Florida’s Northern District. Serving was a demanding job, especially for citizens who didn’t exactly volunteer. The pay was low, $40 a day, and their expenses were barely covered. However, the job was important and at times exciting, especially when the FBI and the U.S. Attorney’s Office were on the trail of organized criminals.

Seventeen were able to answer the bell on short notice, and since only sixteen were needed for a quorum they quickly got down to business. With the investigation growing by the hour, and with the rare possibility of indicting rich white men for capital murder, the U.S. Attorney had seized control of the case. Her name was Paula Galloway, an Obama appointee and a veteran prosecutor. Her top assistant was Rebecca Webb, who by then knew more about the case than anyone but Allie Pacheco, who was called as the first witness.

Since they had already indicted Zeke Foreman and Clyde Westbay, the grand jurors already knew the facts surrounding the death of Hugo Hatch. Allie recapped them quickly and answered a few questions from around the table. Ms. Galloway surprised them by calling as her next witness the driver himself.

From the depths of the Feds’ witness protection world, Zeke Foreman appeared and swore to tell the truth. Neither his plea agreement nor his whereabouts were to be discussed. He told his story, and the grand jurors were captivated by it. Since they had already indicted him, they seemed pleased with their decision and fascinated by his detailed account of the events of August 22. They asked a lot of questions and Zeke handled himself well. He was relaxed, remorseful, and completely believable. Galloway, Webb, Pacheco, and the other FBI agents in the room watched him carefully. He would one day testify in court against the Cousins, and their lawyers would attempt to annihilate him.

The next witness was Clyde Westbay, who seemed to be at ease in the presence of the same federal grand jury that had indicted him for murder less than a week earlier. Clyde had just survived his first big test, a face-to-face chat with the boss himself while wearing a wire and snagging incriminating statements. For the first hour, Clyde discussed his role in the car crash. For the next two hours he talked about the Dubose organization and his part in it. He knew nothing of the skimming at the casino, but enthralled the grand jurors with his descriptions of laundering money at its blackjack tables.

One juror, a Mr. Craft from Apalachicola, confessed a fondness for blackjack and said he spent a lot of time at Treasure Key. He was fascinated by the laundering scheme and asked so many detailed questions that Ms. Galloway suggested they move along to more testimony.

Late in the afternoon, Pacheco played the audio of Clyde’s conversation eight hours earlier with Vonn Dubose.

When Clyde was finished, after almost five hours of testimony, Ms. Galloway instructed the jurors on the applicable federal laws. The fact that the stolen truck crossed state lines meant the murder weapon was used in interstate commerce. The fact that Zeke was paid $5,000 for his role placed the crime squarely in the murder-for-hire category; thus a capital crime. And the fact that there was an organized criminal gang, and that one or more members of the gang did a crime that benefited the organization, meant all the gang members were subject to prosecution.

It was almost 8:00 p.m. when the grand jury voted unanimously to indict Vonn Dubose, Hank Skoley, Floyd Maton, Vance Maton, and Ron Skinner for the capital murder of Hugo Hatch, and for the aggravated assault of Lacy Stoltz. Clyde Westbay was added as a defendant, though he would be dropped later. His plea agreement for first-degree murder would supersede the capital one. It was crucial for Dubose and the others to consider Clyde a co-defendant and still part of the team. Much later they would learn of his agreement with the government.

–

Lacy was at the stove, stirring the final ingredient, fresh mussels, into her version of cioppino, an Italian fish stew that included scallops, clams, shrimp, and cod. The table was set, the candles lit, the Sancerre on ice. Allie called as soon as he left the federal building ten minutes away. She met him at the door with a proper but affectionate kiss. They were still kissing; but nothing more, at least in the physical sense. They were undoubtedly taking the full measure of one another and wondering what the future might hold. Lacy was neither physically nor emotionally ready for the next step, and there was no pressure from him. He seemed to adore her and was willing to wait.

She poured wine as he took off his jacket and tie. The eighteen- and twenty-hour days were adding up and he was exhausted. Though grand jury proceedings were deeply secretive, he knew he could trust her. They were, after all, on the same team and understood confidentiality.

The indictments were in place, sealed for now, but soon to be served as the FBI rounded up the gang. He didn’t know exactly when, but arrests were imminent.

Paula Galloway and the FBI had adopted the strategy of using two indictments. The first was the most urgent and important, and also the easiest. With the testimony of Zeke Foreman and Clyde Westbay, the case for murder was clear and the proof appeared to be beyond a reasonable doubt. Assuming Dubose and his boys had no idea what was coming, they would be arrested within days and locked away with no chance of bail. At the same time, the FBI would raid their homes and offices, along with those of Claudia McDover, Phyllis Turban, Chief Cappel, Billy Cappel, and the lawyers in Biloxi who had represented Dubose for twenty years. Every business that had been identified so far as being part of the organization would be raided, and many of them closed temporarily. The casino would be swarmed by agents with search warrants. The U.S. Attorney was trying to convince a federal judge to close it indefinitely. The second indictment, for racketeering, would include a wave of arrests that would be coordinated with the raids, with McDover getting top billing, and perhaps the Chief right behind her.

Lacy said, “Myers liked to call it a RICO cluster bomb. That’s what nailed him.”

“And a pretty good description. It will be two inches thick. So as Dubose is just finding his way around his jail cell and wondering how in the hell he got charged with murder, he’ll be handed a little RICO gift.”

“He’ll need ten lawyers.”

“True, but he can’t hire them. All of his accounts will be frozen.”

“Myers, Myers. I wonder where he is. I really liked the guy.”

“Well, I doubt if you’ll see him again.”

“Will we ever know what happened to him?”

“I doubt it. The police in Key Largo have found nothing. It’s a cold trail and if Dubose was behind it, we’ll probably never know, unless one of his hit men can be convinced to come clean.”

She poured more wine. The grand jury would work tomorrow, Saturday, and Sunday if necessary. The urgency was obvious: a protracted investigation with witnesses being hauled before the grand jury could cause a leak and tip their hand. Those who worked for the organization had the means and the expertise to disappear instantly. Once the Cousins were arrested for murder, their managers, errand boys, drivers, bodyguards, and couriers might feel the need to start running. After eight days of intensive, around-the-clock eavesdropping, the FBI had twenty-nine names on its list of likely gang members.

“So you shoot first and ask questions later,” Lacy said.

“Something like that. And keep in mind, we can always amend an indictment. We can always add or dismiss defendants. It’s a massive investigation and it’ll take a long time to sort through it, but we plan to hit hard and get everybody locked up before they can tamper with evidence. I’m starving.”

“Did you have lunch?”

“No. I had a greasy burger from a drive-thru.”

He tossed the salad as she scooped up the cioppino and filled two bowls. “This is a tomato sauce so I’m thinking a red might be better. You have an opinion?”

“I’d go with red.”

“Good. Open that Barolo over there.”

She pulled a buttered baguette from the oven and served the salads. They sat across the table and sipped the wine. He said, “Smells delicious. Thanks for waiting.”

“I didn’t really want to eat alone.”

“You cook often?”

“No. There’s no need. Gotta question for you.”

“Fire away.”

“At this point in the investigation, how does the informant figure into it?”

“Which informant?”

“The mole, the one close to McDover, the one feeding details to Cooley, who passed them on to Myers.”

Allie chewed on a mouthful of salad and studied her face. “He’s not important right now, but we’ll need him later.”

“He’s a she, and she called me yesterday, really frightened. Someone broke into her house and went through her things. She sees McDover daily and thinks the judge is suspicious.”

“Who is she?”

“I swore not to reveal her identity, at least not now. Maybe later. As I said, she’s frightened and confused and she doesn’t know who to trust.”

“She’ll eventually be an important witness.”

“I’m not sure she’ll come forward.”

“She may have no choice.”

“But you can’t make her testify.”

“No, we can’t, but there are ways to convince her. This stew is delicious.” He dipped a piece of bread into the broth and ate it with his fingers.

“I’m glad you like it. So are you working tomorrow?”

“Oh yes. The grand jury convenes at nine. I have to be there at eight for what should be another long day. Sunday as well.”

“You guys always work like this?”

“No, but then we rarely get cases this big. The adrenaline kicks in. Like this morning when I was in the back of the van with three of our technicians, temperature about 120, and we listened to Westbay as he met with Dubose. That can really get your heart rate up there. It’s a rush, and one of the reasons I love this job.”

“How much can you tell me?”

Allie glanced around the kitchen as if spies were at hand. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. What did Dubose say?”

“It’s beautiful.”