"An author," the man replied in an almost indifferent manner. "I'm halfway into a legal thriller that involves a few immigration matters. Saw this case mentioned in the Times. Thought I'd pop in and pick up a little authentic juice."
The man looked seedy, wildly disorganized, and poorly groomed. His threadbare blue blazer bore long streaks of mustard stain, and he was vigorously scratching his fanny. Sure looked like a writer.
When the judge did not throw him out, the man quickly settled his ample rear back into his seat. He dug a notebook out of a side pocket and loudly flicked his pen open. On the frames of his glasses were two miniature cameras. Tucked in his breast pocket, a highly sensitive microphone was capturing every word. In a small office two floors above, three federal agents were huddled before video screens, watching and listening to the proceedings with great amusement.
Agent Wilson laughed, slapped a thigh, and bellowed, "Hah, you old bastard, who's the smart one now?"
With his usual judicial efficiency, His Honor cut right to the chase. "Mr. Jones, we left off with your assessment that you needed two more weeks to prepare your defense. Are you ready?"
"I believe I am, Your Honor. But as there is no requirement for discovery in immigration code, I reserve the right to hear what the prosecution presents."
This reference was to the requirement in criminal trials for the prosecution and defense to share advance notice about evidence and witnesses they intend to present. There was no such obligation in immigration court. MP's retort was old hat. The judge nodded accordingly. He shifted his attention to the prosecutor. "Miss Parrish, make your case."
Without hesitation she said, "We'll open with the government claim that Mr. Konevitch lied to the immigration board about his place of employment."
She nodded at her young assistant. He apparently had another impressive purpose than being the meek target of blame for things gone wrong. He hefted up a number of documents and hauled them to the bench.
Miss Parrish said, "I'm providing annotated transcripts from the statement made by Mr. and Mrs. Konevitch to an immigration panel on April 15, to wit, they both were employed by a company supposedly established in Austria. The company so named is Orangutan Media."
Judge Everston licked his fingers and began noisily thumbing through the documents. "Go on."
"You'll also note three statements signed by Russia's attorney general, Anatoli Fyodorev. They detail several investigations by Russian federal investigators into the true activities of Orangutan Media. The-"
MP quickly interrupted. "Your Honor, we have not seen those statements."
"And you already established that, Mr. Jones."
"Yes, and surely it won't hurt to remind the court that my client came to America as a result of political persecution. The same government that provided those statements wishes him dead."
"Then you believe these statements to be false?"
"I haven't seen them."
"Well, they're in Russian. Can't read them myself. But let's assume, momentarily, that Miss Parrish is telling the truth. That's a reasonable assumption, is it not, Miss Parrish?"
"It is."
"Mr. Jones? Is Russia's attorney general lying?"
"Probably. I'll withhold judgment for now."
The prosecutor flipped a quick sideways smile at MP. She wasn't through, and he definitely wasn't going to like her next move. Too bad your hack reporter friend's not here to see you gag and choke, she wanted to tell him. Her errand boy hauled a few more papers up to the judge. "Your Honor, these are sworn statements from employees of Orangutan Media. They confirm the nature of the company's criminal activities. Please note the top statement."
"So noted. What is it?"
"A confession signed by Illya Mechoukov."
MP had never heard the name so he glanced over at his client. Alex's mouth hung open. He appeared to be in shock. He was massaging his forehead, openly pained.
MP bent over and scribbled a brief, questioning note to Alex.
"And who would he be?" the judge was asking.
"Mr. Mechoukov is the CEO of Orangutan Media. Again, it's in Russian, but he details not only the company's connections to money laundering for a notorious criminal syndicate but, more specifically, Mr. Konevitch's direct role in the nefarious activities."
Alex furiously scribbled a note back to MP. "Ask if the FBI was present," it said with a large exclamation point.
The judge was shuffling through several papers. "And the rest of these statements, who are they from?"
"More employees of said company. They all verify or expand upon the statement provided by Mechoukov."
"And how did you come upon these materials?" MP asked from the side.
She paused at this question, but only briefly. "They were given to me by the FBI."
"The FBI's a large organization. Who exactly, in the FBI?"
"I don't believe this is relevant, Your Honor."
