Chapter 8: The Weight of Evidence
The federal prosecutor's name was Sandra Okafor.
She was forty-four, direct, and she had a reputation for taking cases that other offices found inconvenient.
Theo had chosen well.
We met in a conference room on the eleventh floor of a building that had no signage on the street.
She had two colleagues with her.
I had Theo and a lawyer named Brent who had handled my legitimate interests for eleven years.
I placed Robert's documents on the table.
Okafor looked at them.
She did not reach for them immediately.
"Mr.
Hale," she said.
"I want to be clear about what this meeting is and isn't.
I'm here because the documents you described to my office suggest a serious financial crime with possible connections to a homicide investigation that was improperly closed.
I'm not here to offer you anything in exchange for cooperation."
"I'm not asking for anything," I said.
She looked at me.
"Then why are you here?"
"Because my wife and daughter are d*ad," I said.
"And I want the person responsible to face a court.
Not my version of justice.
A court."
She held my gaze for a moment.
Then she reached for the documents.
The room was quiet for twenty minutes while she and her colleagues read.
At page eighteen — the same page where I had found Vera's name — Okafor stopped.
She turned to her colleague.
A look passed between them.
"Harlan Voss," she said.
"You know him," I said.
"We've had a file on Voss's financial structures for three years," she said.
"We've never had documentation from inside the original partnership." She set the page down carefully.
"Where did these come from?"
I told her about Robert.
About Fenn.
About the envelope that had been waiting.
Okafor listened without interrupting.
"The accident investigation," she said when I finished.
"Detective Rourke."
"He buried a witness statement," I said.
"The witness is in a safe location.
She's prepared to speak."
"And Dominic Carr?"
"He'll cooperate," I said.
"He's already given me a verbal account.
He understands his position."
Okafor looked at her colleagues again.
Then back at me.
"Mr.
Hale," she said.
"I need to ask you directly.
In the two years since the accident, have you taken any action against Voss, Carr, or Rourke that would compromise a prosecution?"
The room was very still.
"No," I said.
"Nothing."
"I didn't know who was responsible until four days ago," I said.
"Before that, I had suspicion and grief.
Neither of those are action."
She studied me.
"All right," she said.
She closed the folder.
"I'm going to need the original documents, the USB drive, and access to your witness.
I'm going to need a formal statement from you.
And I'm going to need you to stay completely clear of Voss, Carr, and Rourke from this moment forward."
"Understood."
"If you contact them, approach them, or take any independent action, you compromise everything on this table." She tapped the folder.
"Everything."
"I understand," I said.
"Do you?" she said.
"Because in my experience, men in your position find it very difficult to wait."
I thought about Lily's yellow hair clip in the envelope in my desk drawer.
"I've been waiting two years," I said.
"I can wait a little longer."
---
Okafor moved quickly.
Rourke was placed under internal affairs investigation within forty-eight hours.
His access to department systems was suspended.
He didn't know why.
He made three phone calls that afternoon — all of them logged.
The third call was to a number registered to one of Voss's Geneva associates.
That call became exhibit one.
Carr gave his formal statement on a Thursday.
His lawyer was present.
He spoke for four hours.
He named Voss.
He named the instruction.
He named the date it was given and the channel through which it was communicated.
He did not look at me when he walked out of the building.
I was standing on the pavement across the street.
He saw me.
He stopped.
For a moment we just looked at each other.
Then he said, across the distance: "I am sorry.
For what that's worth."
"It's worth very little," I said.
"But I heard you."
He got into his car and drove away.
I stood there a moment longer.
Then Theo's phone rang.
He answered it, listened, and held it out to me.
"Okafor," he said.
I took the phone.
"The warrant for Voss was executed this morning in Geneva," she said.
"International cooperation.
He's in custody." A pause.
"Mr.
Hale — it's moving."
I looked up at the sky.
It was a grey morning, the kind Elena had always liked.
She said grey skies made colors look more themselves.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me yet," Okafor said.
"His lawyers are already working.
This will take time."
"I know," I said.
"I'll wait."
I handed the phone back to Theo.
May you like
"Home?" he said.
"Home," I said.
