“You say that Yousseff was the man who supervised the terrorist attack on the Glen Canyon Dam. You did say that, didn’t you?”
Silence. Dana again did absolutely nothing—she simply waited for the response. The long episode of silence emphasized the impossible position that Dan was in. Again, Judge Mordecai intervened. “You must answer that question, Mr. Alexander.”
“What was the question?”
“Madam Reporter,” directed the judge, “could you please read back that question for the benefit of the witness?”
The court reporter, in a careful voice and even tone, reread the question. The readback multiplied the resonance of the question. Dan remained mute.
“Mr. Alexander, you have to answer that question. Did you say that Yousseff supervised the attack on the Glen Canyon Dam?”
After another lengthy silence, Dan finally said, “I don’t recall.”
“You don’t recall what you said a couple of days ago when you’ve just heard a recording of it?” asked Dana.
“Recordings can be messed with. I doubt that I said that. If this comes from Zak’s smartphone, he probably found a way to alter what I said to make it look like I’m guilty, when I’m not.”
“Fine, sir. You’ve just heard yourself being recorded and you still do not remember what you said. We might as well move to something else. Now you know Calvin Jones, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do. He is the American secretary of defense. A good friend of mine.”
“He doesn’t have any source of income other than his government salary right? About $300,000 a year?”
“Yeah, I think so. He’s a poor boy.”
“And he worked his way up. Has no family money.”
“Right.”
“Now that we’ve established that, isn’t it true that Yousseff paid Calvin Jones one hundred million dollars?”
“Don’t be a moron. No.”
“Did Yousseff pay you fifty million dollars?”
“Judge, do I have to listen to this garbage?” Dan asked, turning to the bench.
“It’s a simple little question, with a simple little one word ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer,” responded the judge. “Humor us.” “No,” Dan responded flatly.
“I have some banking ledgers from Karachi Dry Dock and Engineering that show otherwise.”
“Sure. If you believe that pile of crap, you’ll believe the judge here is the tooth fairy.”
“Don’t worry,” interrupted Judge Mordecai. “The Court of Appeal already believes that.”
“So you deny it?”
Dan did not hesitate. “Yes.”
“Are you familiar with a law firm in Karachi by the name of Hassan and Hassan?” continued Dana.
“Never heard of them.”
“You have heard of Karachi Dry Dock and Engineering?” she prompted. “Only through this stupid trial,” Dan replied.
“Well, thank you for that. Do you have an account at a bank in Antigua?”
“I don’t even know where Antigua is.”
“Sir, do you have an account at the International Bank of Barbuda?”
“No idea what you’re rattling on about.” Dan continued with his chippy demeanor, but small beads of sweat were breaking out on his forehead.
“How about the bank’s main branch in St. John, Antigua. On First Street—97 First Street, to be precise.”
“Honey,” began Dan, “I don’t know who has been feeding your head with this nonsense, or what faked-up documents you have there, but I don’t have the foggiest idea what you’re on about.”
“Watch it, Mr. Alexander,” growled Judge Mordecai. “You don’t get two mulligans.”
“I am showing a printout from KDDE,” continued Dana. “It’s a schedule of payments. Will you read to the jury the line highlighted in yellow?”
“It says, ‘To account SWIFT C-M-B-A-B-B-A-W-E-X-X-5611092, 25 million dollars, November 21, 2017.’”
“That’s your account, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“Do you know what those letters represent?”
“Don’t have a clue, ma’am.”
“Come on, Mr. Alexander. I know that you know. Try again.” “Objection, badgering.” Sheff was on his feet.
“Maybe a bit,” said Judge Mordecai. “But, Mr. Alexander, have you exhausted your memory?”
“Yes, m’lord, I have. I do not know what that means.”
The judge looked at Dana. “Carry on Ms. Wittenberg.”
“Sir,” said Dana, “it’s a SWIFT code.” “What’s a SWIFT code?” Dan responded.
“It’s a series of letters that serve as an identifier for multinational banks.” “So?” Dan uncomfortably shifted his weight around in the witness box.
“These particular letters are the identifier for a bank in Antigua, in the Caribbean, known as the International Bank of Barbuda. Does that help your memory?” Dana again smiled sweetly.
Dan turned a deep shade of purple. The little beads of forehead sweat multiplied in size and number. He remained silent.
“Will you please answer the question?” Dana prompted.
“No.”
Dana turned to the judge. “M’lord, could you direct the witness to answer?”
Judge Mordecai ordered Dan to respond, which, after a lengthy silence, he did. “I really don’t recall.”
“Okay, let’s try something else,” said Dana. “I have here a printout of account 5611092 from the main branch of the International Bank of Barbuda. Whose name is on that printout?”
Dan mopped his forehead with a clump of Kleenex and reached for the water glass. He remained silent despite multiple promptings from Dana and Judge Mordecai to answer.
“Very well,” said Dana. “Here are copies of the document for the jury. It’s obvious that the name across the top is Daniel Alexander. Let’s try something else, Mr. Alexander. You were in Antigua on November 21, 2017?”
“Told you, bitch, never heard of the place.”
Judge Mordecai smashed down his gavel. “Five thousand dollar fine, Mr. Alexander. You show that kind of disrespect again and I’ll double it and give you a week in custody.”
Dana continued. “Sir, I suggest to you that you’ve been at Henry’s Steak and Fish House. In St. John, Antigua.”
“No.”
“On November 21, 2017? Come on, sir,” urged Dana. “You must remember it. It’s right beside the International Bank of Barbuda—91 First Street, in St. John, Antigua, to be precise.”
“No.” Dan reached for more Kleenex and was developing a tremor in his hands.
“Well, sir, I have an American Express slip in your name that shows that you paid for what appears to have been a feast of a dinner on November 21, 2017, at Henry’s Steak and Fish House. Looks like, with tip, about a thousand-dollar dinner. Remember it now?” “No,” Dan responded.
Dana read the Amex card number into the record. Then she politely asked for Dan Alexander’s wallet.
