“Except the economy goes into the toilet,” Aronson said. “He can’t sell them and he can’t remortgage them because they aren’t worth what he paid for them. No bank would touch his paper, not even his own.”
Aronson had a glum look on her face.
“This is all good work, Bullocks. What’s wrong?”
“Well, I’m just wondering what all this has to do with the murder?”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.”
I went back to the desk and sat down. I handed her the three-page document I had found in the volumes the prosecution had provided. She took it and held it so she and Cisco could both look at it.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“I think it’s our smoking gun.”
“I forgot my glasses in the other office,” Cisco said.
“Read it, Bullocks.”
“It’s a copy of a certified letter from Bondurant to Louis Opparizio at A. Louis Opparizio Financial Technologies, or ALOFT, for short. It says, ‘Dear Louis, Attached you will find correspondence from an attorney named Michael Haller who is representing the home owner in one of the foreclosure cases you are handling for WestLand.’ It gives Lisa’s name, loan number and the address of the house. Then it goes, ‘In his letter Mr. Haller makes allegations that the file is replete with fraudulent actions perpetrated in the case. You will note that he gives specific instances, all of which were carried out by ALOFT. As you know and we have discussed, there have been other complaints. These new allegations against ALOFT, if true, have put WestLand in a vulnerable position, especially considering the government’s recent interest in this aspect of the mortgage business. Unless we come to some sort of arrangement and understanding in regard to this I will be recommending to the board that WestLand withdraw from its contract with your company for cause and any ongoing business be terminated. This action would also require the bank to file an SAR with appropriate authorities. Please contact me at your earliest convenience to further discuss these matters.’ That’s it. A copy of your original letter is attached and a copy of the return card from the post office. The letter was signed for by someone named Natalie and I can’t read the last name. Begins with an L.”
I leaned back in my leather executive chair and smiled at them while rolling a paper clip over my fingers like a magician. Aronson, eager to impress, jumped in first.
“So, Bondurant was covering his ass. He had to have known what ALOFT was doing. The banks have a wink-wink relationship with all these foreclosure mills. They don’t care how it’s done, they just want it done. But by sending this letter he was distancing himself from ALOFT and the underhanded practices.”
I shrugged as if to say maybe.
“ ‘Arrangement and understanding,’ ” I said.
They both looked at me blankly.
“That’s what he said in the letter. ‘Unless we come to some sort of arrangement and understanding…’ ”
“Okay, what’s it mean?” Aronson asked.
“Read between the lines. I don’t think he was distancing himself. I think the letter was a threat. I think it means he wanted a piece of ALOFT’s action. He wanted in and he was covering his ass, yes, by sending the letter, but I think there was another message. He wanted some of the action or he was going to take it away from Opparizio. He was even threatening to file an SAR.”
“What exactly is an SAR?” Aronson asked.
“Suspicious activity report,” Cisco said. “A routine form. The banks file them over anything.”
“With who?”
“Federal trade, FBI, Secret Service, whoever they want to, really.”
I could tell I had not sold them on anything yet.
“Do you have any idea what sort of money ALOFT is raking in?” I asked. “It’s easily involved in a third of our cases. I know it’s unscientific but if you take that out across the board and ALOFT’s got a third of the cases in L.A. County then you are talking about millions and millions in fees from this one county. They say that in California alone there will be three million foreclosures before this plays out over the next few years.
“Plus, there’s the acquisition.”
“What acquisition?” Aronson asked.
“You gotta read the papers. Opparizio is in the process of selling ALOFT to a big investment fund, a company called LeMure. It’s publicly traded and any sort of controversy regarding one of its satellite acquisitions could affect the deal as well as the stock price. So don’t kid yourself. If Bondurant was desperate enough, he could make some waves. He may have made more than he was counting on.”
Cisco nodded, the first to tumble to my theory.
“Okay, so we have Bondurant facing personal financial disaster,” he said. “Three balloons about to pop. So he turns around and tries to muscle in on Opparizio, the LeMure deal and the whole foreclosure gravy train. And it gets him killed?”
“That’s right.”
Cisco was sold. I now swiveled in my chair so that I was looking directly at Aronson.
“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s a big jump. And it’s going to be hard to prove.”
“Who says we have to prove it? We just have to figure out how to get it before the jury.”
The reality was we didn’t need to prove a damn thing. We only had to suggest it and let a jury do the rest. I just had to plant the seeds of reasonable doubt. To build the hypothesis of innocence. I leaned forward across my big wooden desk and looked at my team.
“This is our defense theory. Opparizio is our straw man. He’s the guy we paint as guilty. The jury points the finger at him and our client walks.”
I looked at both their faces and got no reaction. I kept going.
“Cisco, I want you to focus on Louis Opparizio and his company. Get me everything that’s out there. History, known associates, everything. All the details of the merger. I want to know more about that deal and this guy than even he knows. By the end of next week I want to subpoena records from ALOFT. They’ll fight it but it ought to stir things up a bit.”
Aronson shook her head.
“But wait a minute,” she said. “Are you saying this is all bullshit? Just a defense gambit and this guy Opparizio didn’t really do it? What if we’re right about Opparizio and they’re wrong about Lisa Trammel? What if she’s innocent?”
She looked at me with eyes full of naive hope. I smiled and looked at Cisco.
“Tell her.”
My investigator turned to face my young associate.
“Kid, you’re new at this so you get a pass. But we never ask that question. It doesn’t matter if our clients are guilty or innocent. They all get the same bang for the buck.”
“Yes, but…”
“There are no buts,” I said. “We are talking about avenues of defense here. Ways to provide our client with the best defense possible. These are strategies we will follow regardless of guilt or innocence. You want to do criminal defense, this is what you have to understand. You never ask your client if he did it. Yes or no, the answer is only a distraction. So you don’t need to know.”
She tightened her lips into a thin, straight line.
“How are you on Tennyson?” I asked. “ ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’?”
“What does-”
“ ‘Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do or die.’ We’re the Light Brigade, Bullocks. We go up against an army that has more people, more weapons, more everything. Most of the time it amounts to little more than a suicide run. No chance of survival. No chance of winning. But sometimes you get a case where you have a shot. It might be a long shot, but it’s a shot nonetheless. So you take it. You charge… and you don’t ask questions like that.”