18. Deuce #2
Late forties, maybe early fifties. Dark hair going gray around the sides. Expensive suit, no tie and a gold watch. He looked Italian before he even opened his mouth.
He stood. “Anthony Moretti.” Detroit accent, not heavy, but there.
I sat down. “So you Scambino’s miracle worker?”
Moretti looked at me for about two seconds. “First thing we’re gonna do is stop saying stupid shit in rooms where conversations can be recorded.”
Well damn I thought to myself, he sat back down. “I see why he sent you.”
“I’m not here to entertain you, Deuce.”
“I figured.”
Moretti opened the first folder. “I’m also not here to bullshit you.”
I leaned back, this muthafucka had been sitting there thirty seconds and already had an attitude.
I kinda liked him. Moretti didn’t waste time he started laying out what the government had.
Records connected to my trucking company vehicle information, phone records, surveillance, financial transactions they were trying to connect to shipments.
Statements from people they’d interviewed, the guns recovered during the stop, photos, dates, names and routes.
More shit than Mark had ever sat down and explained to me at one time.
“They’re trying to establish that the legitimate trucking operation provided cover for illegal transportation.” Moretti said.
“I know what they’re trying to say.”
“I’m not interested in what they’re trying to say. I’m interested in what they can prove.” He let me know. He flipped another page. “Right now, they have enough to make your life extremely uncomfortable. They do not have enough for me to sit here and tell you you’re finished.”
That was the first decent shit I’d heard since getting locked up.
“They’re also still building.” He said.
“Against me?”
“Against everybody.” Moretti closed the folder. “Which means I need the truth before they find something I don’t know about.”
“You got the discovery.”
“I have what the government has disclosed.” He leaned forward. “That’s not the same thing.” I watched him. “Is there anything about this investigation I need to know that isn’t in these files?”
“No.”
He gave me that look like I was on bullshit, “What?” I asked.
“I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
“The part you’re not telling me.”
I smiled a little. “Are you always this irritating?”
“Yes.” He didn’t smile back. “Women?”
My smile disappeared. “What about them?”
“Affairs, girlfriend, ex girlfriend, anybody emotionally attached to you who might’ve spoken to law enforcement, had access to your phone, your house, your vehicles, your employees, or your business.”
Kim immediately crossed my mind. I shifted in the chair and Moretti caught it.
“There.”
“There what?” I asked.
“That.” He pointed at me. “Who did you just think about?”
“Man…”
“Don’t waste my time.”
I looked away. Mark knew Agent Brown had been involved in the investigation. What I wasn’t sure I’d ever made clear was exactly how Brown was connected to Kim. At the time, I didn’t think it mattered. Now maybe it did.
“My side bitch.”
Moretti stared at me. “Your what?”
“You asked.”
“Name.”
“Kim.”
“Last name?”
I gave it to him and he wrote it down. “How does she fit into this?”
“Her father.”
Moretti stopped writing. “What about him?”
“He’s FBI.”
The whole room changed. Moretti slowly put his pen down. “Name.”
“Agent Brown.”
His eyes locked on mine. “Is Agent Brown involved in this investigation?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s her father?”
“Yeah.”
Moretti sat back for the first time since he walked into the room, that hard ass expression cracked. Not into a smile exactly but something close. “You’re telling me that one of the federal agents connected to this investigation is the father of the woman you were having an affair with?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“And his daughter was emotionally involved with you?”
“More than I wanted her to be.”
“Did he know?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Before your arrest?”
“Yeah.”
Moretti grabbed his pen again. “Did he know you were married?”
“Everybody knew I was married.”
“And his daughter wanted you to leave your wife?”
“Pretty much.”
“Did Agent Brown ever confront you personally about his daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“Threaten you?”
I thought about it. “Depends what you call a threat.”
“I call a threat a threat. Tell me what he said.”
So I did, not every conversation word for word, but enough.
Brown knew about me and Kim and he didn't approve.
Kim had told him things about my business.
Brown had knowledge of our personal relationship before everything came crashing down.
And somehow this nigga had still been anywhere near an investigation involving me.
The more I talked, the faster Moretti wrote.
Then he stopped. “Did Ellis know this?”
“He knew Brown was Kim’s pops.”
“And he did nothing with it?”
“I don’t know what he did.”
Moretti leaned back and looked toward the ceiling. “Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
He looked at me again. “Do you understand the problem here?”
“Obviously you are about to tell me.”
“An agent doesn’t get to use federal authority as an extension of a personal family dispute.
” Moretti was fully awake now. “If Brown participated in investigative decisions involving you while knowing his daughter was having an affair with you, and especially if information flowed from her to him without proper handling or disclosure, I want every piece of paper connected to his involvement.”
“So what does that mean for me?”
“It means Ellis should’ve been crawling through this from day one.
” He started gathering papers. “I want Brown’s reports, warrants, affidavits and all communications.
Who authorized what and when he entered the investigation.
What information originated with his daughter.
Whether prosecutors were told about the relationship, everything.
“You can get the case thrown out?”
Moretti looked at me. “I’m going to try to do considerably more than complain about ethics. If Brown’s personal conflict tainted probable cause, a warrant, evidence collection, or the government’s handling of this investigation, I’m attacking it.”
“Meaning?”
“Suppression, disqualification, evidentiary hearings and if the facts support it, dismissal.”
Now we were talking.
Moretti closed the folder. “I’m filing immediately.”
“How long?”
“Give me two weeks.”
I stared at him.
“Two weeks for what?”
“To make them wish Agent Brown had never heard your name.”
For the first time since I’d been locked up, I felt something besides anger, hope. “Are you saying I’ll be home in two weeks?”
“I’m saying I’m going after your detention first. I want you out while we fight the rest.” He pointed at me. “But don’t confuse confidence with a promise. Judges make decisions, not lawyers.”
Fair enough, then Moretti smiled for the first time. It wasn’t a friendly smile either. That muthafucka looked like he’d just found something he’d been hoping was buried in the paperwork. “This is why I ask clients whether there’s anything they forgot to tell me.”
“I didn’t think fucking Kim mattered.”
“Your mistress’s father being a federal agent investigating you?”
He stared at me. “That fucking matters.”
I nodded.
“Anything else?” Moretti watched me for another second like he didn’t believe me then he stood. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Tomorrow?” I asked.
“No.” He grabbed his briefcase. “Tomorrow”
After he left I went back to my cell, I finally had a little hope.
I was ready to get back to my life. I couldn’t do shit in here.
I couldn’t protect my family or run my business.
I didn’t like the fact that I had no control a nigga felt helpless.
I also needed to get out so that I could fix whatever was wrong with my marriage.
I didn’t like the way Alisha was moving.
Apparently she forgot who the fuck I was because she was doing the most. If I was on the outside ain’t no way in hell she would have been ignoring me.
I hope she doesn't think she is leaving me.
It's for better or worse till death do us part around this muthafucka.