Jeff spotted a dirt track bordered by densely packed trees and bushes. He drove in a few car lengths, turned the car so it faced the road, and parked. His camera was in the back seat. He grabbed it and got out. The rain had started to come down hard. Jeff pulled up the hood on his rain jacket before hiking through the woods to the top of a hill that overlooked the farm. Jeff used his telephoto lens to scan the terrain. A driveway led off the country road through a white clapboard fence. Beyond the fence was a farmhouse, outbuildings, and a barn. An old pickup truck and a new-model, jet-black Mercedes-Benz stood in a gravel parking lot next to the barn. Jeff searched the property for any signs of life, but he didn’t spot any people or livestock. Then a door in the side of the barn opened, and two men walked out.
Jeff had searched the Web for information on Kevin Bash. His picture was on the website for his car dealership, and Jeff recognized him right away. Jeff didn’t need a picture to identify Andre Rostov. Bash was well built, but he looked like a child next to the massive human who was standing beside him.
Jeff snapped a series of pictures as Bash and Rostov ran through the downpour to their vehicles. It dawned on Jeff that the road from the farm would pass his car. He hustled down the hill and jumped in the driver’s seat. He could hear the cars coming as he started his engine and backed the car deeper into the woods. The Mercedes and the pickup drove by seconds after his car was out of sight of the road.
Jeff took a deep breath and leaned back against the headrest. He had no desire to meet Rostov or Bash, but he did want to find out where they were going.
Jeff let the men get enough of a head start so he wouldn’t be seen on the deserted country road. He lost sight of the truck and the Mercedes until he topped a rise. The men were following the route he’d taken from Portland, so he gambled that was where they were headed and didn’t speed up until he reached Highway 26.
It didn’t take Jeff long to catch up to the two vehicles. When they were on the outskirts of the city, Jeff was faced with a choice. The Mercedes kept going toward Portland, but Rostov turned off and headed into another rural area.
Jeff knew that Kevin Bash worked at his Mercedes dealership. He could follow him home anytime. So, he decided to tail Rostov. The pickup truck drove past poorly kept-up homes and trailer parks before turning into the driveway of a house with a lawn that looked like a retirement home for weeds and an exterior that had not seen paint since the Dark Ages.
Jeff memorized the house number as he cruised past. Then he parked down the street and watched the house until some teenage boys, who had been sitting on a front porch, started walking toward the car. Jeff headed back to town.
Robin and Amanda looked up when Jeff walked into the apartment.
“How’s the opening coming?” he asked as he shed his water-spotted jacket.
“We’re done. We just finished up a review of the jury instructions, and we’re talking about how we’re going to cross-examine Vanessa’s witnesses. How did your secret mission go?”
Jeff told the women about the farm and following Bash and Rostov.
“I was just at the jail. I showed Joe the pictures I took. He says that one of the men is the giant who drove him to the fight and Kevin Bash is the man who ran it. He’s not certain, because he was there at night, but he said that this could be where they held the illegal fight. He remembered the gravel parking lot and the field where some other cars were parked, and the door at the side of the barn is where he remembered it being.”
“Good work,” Robin said.
“We want to get your opinion on something,” Amanda said.
“Shoot.”
“We’ve been debating whether we should call Joe as a witness. What do you think?”
Jeff’s brow furrowed as he weighed the pros and cons. Contrary to what most people thought, it was usually a mistake to call a defendant to the stand in a criminal case. The state had the burden of proving that the defendant committed the crime he was accused of committing, and the state’s burden was very high. To vote guilty, a juror could not have a single reasonable doubt about the defendant’s guilt.
A defendant had no obligation to prove he was innocent. That meant that the defense was never required to put on evidence. If the state’s case was shaky but Joe made a bad impression when he testified, he could erase any reasonable doubts harbored by a juror. The only time the defense had to call a defendant to the stand was when he was the only person who could explain away devastating evidence that would lead to a conviction.
“I think it would be a mistake to put Joe on the stand,” Jeff said.
“Joe’s fingerprints put him in Carasco’s house, next
