“And it’s clear that the storage areas for these drugs and money were about one hundred meters in from the south inlet of the tunnel?” “Yes, that number sounds about right,” Indy said.
“And that means that the stash of money and drugs—”
“Don’t forget the guns,” Indy interrupted with a twinkle in his eye.
“Yes. Right. Money, drugs, and guns, that stash was entirely on the American side of the border.” “Yes,” said Indy.
“M’lord,” said Dana, “I move that . . .” “Overruled,” snapped the judge.
“But m’lord, you don’t even know what motion I was going to make.”
“Yes, I do. You were going to move that all of this evidence of guns, drugs, and money be excluded because the RCMP exceeded the bounds of their jurisdiction by entering onto foreign soil to impound all of this material.” “Yes, I guess that’s the motion,” Dana replied.
“It’s overruled.”
“But it was clearly on foreign soil. We do not have jurisdiction to enter the USA to start making criminal searches.”
“Look, Ms. Wittenberg. You know well that we voir dired this evidence before the trial started, and I ruled that it was admissible. It is properly before the jury. Your Mr. deFijter himself made the pitch for exclusion, and he lost. You’re not going to reargue it now.”
“But m’lord—”
“Don’t ‘but m’lord’ me. Continue.”
She tried yet another track. “On November 19, 2017, you attended a meeting with the various RCMP officers and FBI agents who were involved in this case, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And what was the consensus of that meeting?”
“Objection,” said Sheff and Archambault simultaneously.
“Hearsay,” said Sheff, nudging at Archambault to sit down. “Double hearsay. Multiple hearsay. Consensus of the meeting? That doesn’t even make sense. I don’t know where to begin. This is Evidence 101. Consensus? Give me a break.”
“Ms. Wittenberg,” interjected the judge, “maybe the weather is derailing you, but really. Consensus? Try something else, would you? I have never yet thrown anyone in jail for stupidity.”
“Stupid” was a high school phrase. Stupid, string bean, ugly, scarface, zit kid. Stayed home from the prom. All of it. The depression from the death of her mother and the rock-bottom drug and alcohol world of her father. “I will rephrase,” Dana replied, nearly in tears from the humiliation.
Sheff stayed on his feet. “There is no possible way that such a question could be rephrased. My learned friend simply cannot go there.”
“No you can’t. Just move on.” Mordecai was looking for his gavel, and then realized it had been destroyed in an earlier ruling.
“Okay. Corporal Singh . . .”
“It’s—I don’t mean to give you a hard time here—” began Indy, “but it’s Inspector Singh.”
“Yes, of course. Now, Inspector Singh, you did not find any Semtex in Devil’s Anvil mine, did you?”
“Actually, counsel, we did. One brick. It was sitting on a ledge near the mine opening.”
“But, you can’t be sure that it was the same Semtex that was stolen out of Libya and was used to blow up the Glen Canyon Dam, can you?”
“I can’t, but our analysts in Ottawa working with the FBI crime lab can.
And it was the same.”
“That’s hearsay,” said Dana, looking forlorn. “You didn’t do the analysis.”
“Ms. Wittenberg,” interrupted the judge, “we did this last week. Forgotten already?”
Dana groaned inwardly. McSheffrey and his team had her so flustered at this point that she felt incapable of asking any sensible questions at all. As she stumbled through her cross-examination, she glanced at her third computer. The now semifunctional online computer.
She turned it on. To her delight, Turbee had suddenly made an appearance and was sending her questions. Not only was there a list, but Dana grasped the significance of the questions. Sighing with relief, she started.
“Now, Inspector, would you agree with me that legally a conspiracy is an agreement between the conspirators to perform an illegal act?”
Sheff was up. “Objection. Calls for a conclusion of law.”
“You’re correct, Mr. McSheffrey, it does,” the judge agreed. “But it’s a simple little conclusion, mentioned by you in your opening address to the jury. Let’s give Ms. Wittenberg one. I’ll give you the next one. Go ahead, Inspector Singh.”
“Yes. Agreement and illegality. That, loosely stated, defines the essential elements of the crime.”
“And the illegal act,” continued Dana, “was the destruction of the Glen Canyon Dam, and all of the chaos that followed it.”
“Yes, that would be it. Of course there is much more to it than that. Transport of explosives. Money laundering. Importing and exporting prohibited substances and weapons. Terrorism. I could list fifty different things, not to mention more than 20,000 counts of murder.” Danson snorted and McGhee snickered.
“Yes. That would surely be an illegal act. But what about the first part? You need to prove that a group of people plotted this, agreed to do this, correct?”
“Yes.”
“So who were the co-conspirators in this case?”
“There were four characters who died in the bombing. Ray, Sam, Hank, and Jimmy. I have the full names in my notes if you’re interested, and they were all from Afghanistan. They were what we call a ‘sleeper cell’ from Los
Angeles. I also have their Afghan names, if you need them.”
“No, that’s fine, Inspector. What were the ages of these gentlemen?”
“I have that in my notes, also, but they were all in their mid to late twenties.”
“Who else was involved in this agreement?”
“There was, of course, your client.”
“How do you know this? Surely not from Ray, Sam, Hank, or Jimmy. They all died when, or shortly after, the bomb was detonated. So none of them told you that my client, Leon Lestage, was involved, correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“In fact, no one has told you that, correct?”
“I do not have any direct, personal knowledge of that fact. I know that he did hang around the Devil’s Anvil mine, because I met him there once.”
“You would agree with me that a person living at a place does not constitute ‘hanging around,’ yes?”
“Yes.”
“But you agree with me that
