The Eighth Sister (Charles Jenkins #1)(106)

Velasquez explained what she called “Mr. Jenkins’s fantasy.” Then she asked, “Would this great nation—the United States of America—leave one of its own agents out in the cold if he were truly in the service of his country?”

She scowled. “Ask yourself, where is the evidence, any evidence, to support his story? Ask yourself, is it likely that during his personal and professional hardship a CIA agent would materialize on his farm carrying a pot of gold? That’s the sort of story one reads in poorly written mysteries, what any discerning reader would laugh at and toss aside as pure, unadulterated fantasy.”

After just twenty minutes, Velasquez had left a strong impression on the jury. As she turned for the government’s table, the only sound in the room was the rocking of jurors’ chairs as they swiveled toward the defense table.



Sloane was already walking to the lectern when Harden said, “Mr. Sloane, do you wish to give an opening statement at this time or defer?”

“The defense very much wishes to be heard,” he said.

Sloane had explained to Jenkins that he had about thirty words, maximum, to change the impression Velasquez would create before the jurors tuned him out, and that he had to involve the jurors in Jenkins’s case.

He didn’t even bother to greet the jurors. Instead, he pointed his finger at Jenkins. “Is this man a spy?” He looked each juror in the eyes. Then he said, “You bet he is. He’s a spy for the United States of America. He was a spy in the 1970s, and he was reactivated November 2017. Is it coincidence, as the government contends, that we are here? Absolutely not. We are here because Mr. Jenkins is the victim of a rogue CIA agent who was bilking an investment firm.”

Sloane paced as he spoke. He told the jurors what Velasquez had not, that Carl Emerson had worked as Richard Peterson for TBT Investments, a subsidiary of LSR&C, which served as a CIA front for agents all over the country. It was a risk. Opening statements were not facts. Facts came in through evidence. Without the documents to support the opening statement, it could be a risk that would backfire, but it was a risk he and Jenkins agreed they had to take.

“Was it coincidence that Mr. Jenkins’s company was going bankrupt? Of course not. Mr. Jenkins couldn’t pay CJ Security’s bills because LSR&C had stopped paying CJ Security. Was it coincidence that Carl Emerson showed up on Charles Jenkins’s farm at this critical financial moment? Of course not. Carl Emerson showed up at this critical moment because Carl Emerson had been Mr. Jenkins’s superior officer in the CIA, knew why Mr. Jenkins had quit, and knew he would not agree to be reactivated unless something mandated it—something catastrophic, as counsel said—something like his business going bankrupt and his family losing their home.”

Sloane paused to let his outrage and the significant amount of information sink in. Did he care whether each juror absorbed each nuance? Not at this moment—especially if he couldn’t get in information to support it. What he wanted to convey was the government’s disloyalty and dirty dealing. Things, he hoped, each juror could understand.

“Carl Emerson also knew Mr. Jenkins was a skilled agent who spoke Russian, and Carl Emerson knew Mr. Jenkins had the perfect cover for getting into and out of Russia—he had a company providing security services to a business in Moscow. Was it a coincidence that Mr. Jenkins would disclose the identities of two American assets working in Russia who had first started working for the CIA in Mexico City? Of course not. That information was authorized for disclosure by Carl Emerson, who, as the former Mexico City station chief, knew of both operations.”

Sloane paused, watching each juror. He’d told Jenkins that his hope was to make the jurors uncomfortable and hopefully cause them to change their perspective, or at least realize there was another story and withhold judgment. “Counsel asks whether you would believe that an agency of this great government would leave an agent hung out to dry. When you hear the evidence, I’m confident your answer will be: yes, they did.”

Sloane brought his hands to his lips as if in prayer. “Ladies and gentlemen, under American law, the burden of proof that Charles Jenkins is guilty lies with the government. In any criminal case, the defendant is innocent until guilt is proven beyond a reasonable doubt. He doesn’t have to testify.” He lowered his hands, as if what he was about to say was spontaneous. Nothing was spontaneous. He and Jenkins had talked about the risk of this part of the opening for several hours the prior evening. “But in this particular trial we’re going to do it differently. Yes, we are.” He looked to Jenkins and nodded. Then he pointed to the government attorneys. “We’re going to relieve the prosecution of their burden. We are going to assume that burden and we are going to prove to you, beyond doubt, that the defendant did not break the law and that he was a loyal American who believed at all times that he was serving his country.”

Sloane thanked the jurors and returned to the counsel table. When he did, Jenkins noted that the jurors’ expressions had changed, from disdain to curiosity, and he knew that was all he could have hoped for.





62



After lunch, Harden again wasted no time. He spoke as he arranged papers on his desk. “Is the government prepared to move forward?”

Again, it was not a question. Again, Velasquez, already on her feet, didn’t hesitate. “We are, Your Honor.”