Chapter 8
prosecutor overseeing the grand jury investigation.
The main office of the state attorney for Miami-Dade County was the Graham Building, a massive, two-winged structure that
overlooks the criminal courthouse. Jack had never met the architect, but it seemed by design that the wings were angled such
that the building’s footprint resembled an American eagle in flight. It also seemed like no accident that, as long as the
sun continued to rise in the east, this five-story hub for some three hundred prosecutors would cast an ominous shadow over
the pretrial detention center on the west side of the street.
“I’m here to see Abe Beckham and Julianna Weller,” Jack told the receptionist.
A prosecutor serves as legal advisor to the grand jury, and Weller was filling that role in the investigation into Owen Pollard’s
death. Weller was a felony division chief, which meant that she personally managed about forty homicide cases while supervising
three prosecutors and their combined four hundred to six hundred felony cases. Jack was among the first to admit that Miami’s
prosecutors more than earned their pay.
“Right this way,” the receptionist said.
Jack followed her down the hallway. The state attorney’s office was on the top floor, a corner office with views of the courthouse and, to the south, the glistening Miami River.
Beckham invited Jack in, closed the door, and showed him to the armchair facing his desk.
Weller took the other armchair, closer to the American flag, making hers the position of power in the room. Weller got straight to business.
“Is your client here?” she asked.
“Just us lawyers today,” said Jack.
Defense attorneys could proffer their clients’ testimony in two ways. The more formal method was a face-to-face meeting that
included the client, at which the prosecutor was free to ask questions and drill down on facts. On Jack’s advice, Elliott
had opted for the informal method, at which the defense lawyer appeared without his client and spoke in hypotheticals: “If my client were to testify that it was Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick . . .”
“Did you bring anything in writing?” asked Weller.
“I did.”
Jack placed a one-page summary of his client’s testimony on the state attorney’s desk. It laid out everything Elliott had
shown him at VanPoll Enterprises. Weller read it first, then Beckham. Neither seemed impressed. Weller was downright incredulous.
“You want complete immunity from prosecution for your client, and all you’re offering is this?” she asked.
“‘This’ is systematic corporate corruption that defrauded over two hundred law enforcement agencies nationwide. Police officers
and federal agents risked their lives to confiscate weapons from criminals, and those firearms were supposed to be destroyed.
Instead, it appears they were broken down into parts and sold for profit.”
“All of which we already know,” she said.
“If you know about it, then why is the company still doing it? This has been going on for months.”
The state attorney fielded that question. “Because it’s perfectly legal,” said Beckham. “That’s why.”
Jack was momentarily speechless. “Say that again, please?”
“Jack, I’m not trying to embarrass you. My office was as surprised by this as you are. Owen Pollard spent two decades on task forces that confiscated weapons from gangs. He knew the regulations on gun destruction like the back of his hand. He also knew the loopholes.”
“What kind of loopholes?”
“A firearms destruction business is in compliance with the law as long as it follows the guidelines set by the federal Bureau
of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. One way to do that is to cut the entire gun into pieces with an acetylene torch.
But if you sort through the maze of regulations, you’ll find that another ‘acceptable method’ is to destroy just the receiver
or frame, which is the part that has a serial number on it.”
“So, VanPoll Enterprises did absolutely nothing wrong if it took taxpayer money from law enforcement agencies to destroy guns,
destroyed only the frames, and then sold the rest of the parts on the secondary market for additional profit. Is that what
you’re saying?”
“There’s no ‘if’ about it, Jack. That’s exactly what they did.”
The last thing Jack wanted was for his “proffer” to turn into a debate over gun destruction. But he needed clarity on where
this turn of events left his client.
“Let’s talk about the grand jury,” said Jack.
“Grand jury investigations are secret,” said Beckham. “There’s not a lot we can tell you.”
“In light of what was just said, I think you’ve already told me that the grand jury is not investigating VanPoll’s business
practices.”
“That’s a fair assumption,” said Beckham.
“Which leads me to conclude that, for some reason, you think Owen Pollard was murdered, even though the medical examiner ruled
it a suicide.”
Neither prosecutor responded, but Jack pushed forward, putting a finer point on his question.
“What did the medical examiner miss?”
Beckham took a deep breath. “Jack, we set aside this time for you to make a proffer. Now you’re launching a fishing expedition
into a grand jury proceeding.”
“How do you expect my client to proffer helpful information if you won’t give us any insight into the focus of the investigation?”
Weller interjected, retaking the lead in the conversation. “Jack, let me be frank. We’re not interested in granting your client
immunity from prosecution.”
“Are you telling me my client is the target of a grand jury investigation into a homicide?”
“I don’t like to get hung up on terms like target,” said Weller.
“I don’t like sending my client into a grand jury room if he’s a target.”
“It’s not like there’s a choice here,” she said. “He’s been subpoenaed.”
“Based on what I’m hearing, I will advise him to invoke his Fifth Amendment right.”
“We will of course respect any witness’s assertion of his right against self-incrimination, even if his lawyer is not allowed
in the room with him—which you won’t be.”
Jack was fully aware of the rules of practice that required grand jury witnesses to appear without counsel, so he took the
opportunity to reciprocate on the schooling.
“It’s interesting to me the way prosecutors always call it the ‘right against self-incrimination.’ You realize that the word
self-incrimination appears nowhere in the U.S. Constitution, right?”
“That’s not true,” said Weller.
“Look it up,” said Jack.
Weller used her smartphone—certain she was right—to check the Fifth Amendment.
Jack knew it by heart. “It says no person ‘shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself,’” he said.
“It’s only prosecutors and the media who make it sound like asserting the Fifth means you’re a self-confessed criminal.”
She put her phone away. The expression on her face suggested that she had little appetite for eating crow.
“I’m sure that would make a very interesting trick question on the bar exam,” she said. “But here’s the bottom line. Owen Pollard was murdered. And after the facts are presented to the grand jury, someone is going to be indicted for first-degree murder.”
Jack rose. “Then it sounds like I will see you next at the courthouse.”
The prosecutors rose and shook Jack’s hand.
“See you then,” said Weller.
Beckham showed Jack out and continued with him into the hallway. They stopped outside the open door. Jack glanced over his
shoulder into the state attorney’s office, where Weller was again tapping furiously on her smartphone, almost certainly searching
for the word self-incrimination in some AI-generated version of the U.S. Constitution.
Beckham lowered his voice, as if to show friendly concern.
“Jack, I get the feeling there’s something you don’t know about your client,” said the state attorney.
Jack tried to show no reaction, but what he knew or didn’t know about his own client was not a line of conversation he wanted
to pursue with the state attorney. “Thanks, Abe. But I got it covered.”
They said goodbye and Jack headed to the elevator, fully aware that it was the second time in one day that he’d heard the
same words of caution about Elliott.