The Resurrection File Page 17

  Fiona lowered her window and stretched her arm out to shake Will’s hand.

  “Will, I will continue to pray for you as you handle my father’s lawsuit. I believe that this is an incredibly important case,” she said. “God bless you.”

  Will searched Fiona’s smile for some glimpse, however fleeting, of something more than just cordial appreciation. But as he stepped back from the car he decided that there was none.

  He watched the limo as it drove away down the boulevard. Then he climbed in his car and headed home. Rain was starting to fall, and the wet pools on the street were reflecting the red and green streetlights.

  He turned his windshield wipers on high speed. As he listened to their mechanical thumping while driving through the shimmering sheets of rain, Will was beginning to feel that familiar sense of stark and utter loneliness.

  24

  ON THE TOP FLOOR OF THE OFFICES of Kennelworth, Sherman, Abrams & Cantwell, Angus MacCameron and Will Chambers were ushered into the spacious conference room. The court reporter was already set up with her steno machine off to the side of the massive conference table. Another court reporter, a videographer, stood next to his tripod, adjusting the camera lens as he readied his equipment for the deposition that was about to begin.

  They were offered coffee, but both declined. As they waited, they were able to look out over Washington, D.C., through the wall of solid glass. They could see the Capitol dome and a corner of the White House in the distance. Several more minutes went by, and then the door swung open. Two associate lawyers with legal pads and thick files under their arms walked in and introduced themselves, quickly taking their seats. A moment later a law clerk scurried into the room with a file under one arm and a laptop computer under the other arm. He quickly plugged in the laptop and booted it up. Then he dutifully folded his hands on the table and waited.

  “I wasn’t aware that this was going to be recorded on video camera,” MacCameron whispered somewhat nervously to Will, who was seated next to him.

  “Don’t let it throw you,” Will whispered back. “Pretend the camera isn’t there. Just focus on what we talked about. Listen to each question before answering. Make him rephrase any question you don’t understand. Don’t answer a question that isn’t being asked. And just tell your story your way and not his way. That’s it.”

  Another minute of silence passed. Then the door opened and J-Fox Sherman walked in. He was dressed down to his shirtsleeves, in an imported blue silk shirt, red suspenders, and a tie with a Picasso design.

  Sherman strode over to MacCameron and extended his hand. MacCameron shook it, but Sherman said nothing. Then Sherman reached over to Will and shook his hand. But Sherman held it in a vise grip, and for a second the two men locked eyes.

  Then Sherman moved away from Will, and as he went round the table to seat himself directly across the table he said off-handedly, “Sorry, counselor, I’ve forgotten your name.” Sherman’s law clerk announced, “Will Chambers. Attorney from Monroeville, Virginia, sir.”

  “Ah, yes. Monroeville. Cute little town. The life of a country lawyer. What brings you all the way up here to big, bad Washington, D.C., Mr. Chambers?”

  “Justice, Mr. Sharman,” Will responded.

  “That’s Sherman,” one of the associate attorneys snapped.

  “Oh, I imagine that Mr. Chambers is just having some fun with us, isn’t that right, attorney Chambers?”

  Will did not respond.

  Sherman stretched out his hands over the conference table and brushed it lightly. Will noticed that. It was no idle gesture—Sherman was making a point. He had no notes at his disposal. No legal pad. No file. Not even a pen. Just a naked tabletop in front of him. J-Fox Sherman was letting his opponent know that he was about to conduct a four-hour deposition completely by memory. As if to say, “I am already in complete and total command of this case. All of the facts, and the principles of law, and the points of persuasion are already ordered and neatly organized in my mind. Now stand back and behold how I destroy you.”

  MacCameron raised his hand and was sworn in. Then Sherman began, his hands folded confidently on the table and his face expressionless.

  Sherman had the court reporter mark, with exhibit stickers, the December issue of Digging for Truth magazine that lay at the core of the case. He also marked as exhibits several other issues of the publication.

  After MacCameron had identified all of the magazine articles on the record, Sherman began questioning him on his educational background. He did so, not by the use of the kind of harmless, non-leading questions most lawyers use in depositions, like, “please describe when and where you received each of your educational degrees,” and then letting the witness give a rambling answer.

  Rather, Sherman recited, by memory, each stage of MacCameron’s educational history, putting forth each fact as a separate question to which MacCameron could only agree by answering “yes.” It was a psychological tactic to begin exerting control over the deposition process. Even more importantly, it was intended to intimidate the witness and his lawyer, illustrating how J-Fox Sherman had already mastered all of the central facts of this case by heart.

  Sherman finished MacCameron’s educational background by asking a series of questions that Will found troubling.

  “When you left the University of Edinburgh, a world-renowned institution, you went to America to attend the College of the Piedmont in West Virginia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was the College of the Piedmont a world-renowned institution?”

  “No, not really.”

  “In fact that college did not even offer a PhD program or its equivalent?”

  “I think that is true.”

  “When you left this world-renowned institution, the University of Edinburgh, to attend a much lesser known and less-qualified school, did you leave on good terms?”

  “Yes, I believe I did.”

  “You had been a good student at Edinburgh—good grades?”

  “Yes, quite.”

  “You had no problems, such as misconduct of any kind, as a reason for your leaving?”

  MacCameron took a while to answer.

  When he finally replied he simply said, “No, sir.”

  Then Sherman moved on to MacCameron’s employment history. When MacCameron affirmed that, yes, he did leave the Family of Christ Community Church in central Pennsylvania after only two years as the assistant pastor, Sherman paused.

  “And you left that church under a cloud of suspicion, did you not?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” MacCameron answered.

  “Were you asked to resign as assistant pastor?”

  “It was a mutual decision.”

  “Did the board of elders and the head pastor tell you that they wanted you to leave, effective immediately?”

  MacCameron took a few seconds to answer. Then he replied.

  “Yes. They did tell me that. But may I explain?”

  Sherman ignored his request to expand on his answer and launched into a volley of blows to MacCameron’s credibility.

  “Is it correct that the church wanted to kick you out because you had exhibited, and I quote, ‘a lack of Christlike love and a total absence of tolerance toward our Christian brothers and sisters in other religious denominations’?”

  “Well,” MacCameron stammered slightly, “I really don’t remember if that was the exact wording.”

  Will jumped in.

  “Mr. Sherman, your question implies that a statement or document of some kind exists from which you are quoting. If that’s true, then in fairness I want you to show it to my client so he can look at it and possibly have his memory refreshed.”

  Sherman smiled, and waved his hand to his law clerk. The clerk retrieved a document and set it on the table in front of his boss.

  “Reverend MacCameron, do I need to show you these minutes from the board of elders meeting of that church to jog your memory about that unfortunate series of events?” />
  “I have a standing objection to any further questions about Reverend MacCameron’s employment history that occurred prior to his becoming the editor-in-chief of Digging for Truth,” Will responded, “unless you can show me how it has any relevance to this case.”

  “Oh, that will be my pleasure,” Sherman intoned. “We have alleged—and you have denied—that your client exhibited actual malice against Dr. Reichstad. I would contend, Mr. Chambers, that your client had not only actual malice under the law when he wrote his shameless and defaming article—he had, in fact, actual hatred of everything Dr. Reichstad stood for. Reverend MacCameron, in fact, held in contempt every religious, cultural, and intellectual group on the planet that did not agree with him.”

  At that point Sherman swung in his chair back toward MacCameron and bulleted out a series of questions designed to bring the point home.

  “Is it correct that the church wanted to fire you because of your public statements condemning the Catholic Church and the Pope in particular—your statements that they were the ‘most logical candidates to fulfill the role of “religious Babylon” in the end times predicted in the New Testament book of Revelation’? Is that correct?”

  “Yes, I made those statements, and yes, the church did not agree with my preaching on that but—”

  “And is it correct that you likewise condemned, in your preaching, many different denominations and religious groups?”

  “Well, I did speak the truth about how certain denominations were not in line with biblical teachings…” MacCameron replied.

  Sherman continued to batter the witness.

  “You condemned certain sects of the Methodist church?”

  “Yes, I suppose I did preach against some of their official positions on certain issues—”

  “You condemned much of the Episcopal denomination?”

  “I only attacked some of their official positions on matters which were clearly against Holy Scripture—”

  “You criticized Presbyterians…”

  “Yes, on occasion…”

  “And certain of the so-called liberal branches of the Baptist denominations…”

  “I imagine I did—”

  “You criticized some of the so-called liberal factions of the Lutheran churches—is that correct?”

  “In my preaching I tried to be biblical—but, yes, you are correct…”

  “Can you think of a single Christian denomination, now as you sit there, that at one time or another you did not condemn in your preaching during your rather short-lived experience as an assistant pastor at that church in Pennsylvania?”

  Will looked at his client. MacCameron looked pale and tired, and the deposition had several more hours left to go. Of course Will knew the tricks of the trade. He could have peppered the air with a number of objections. He could have demanded a time-out for his client, and then whisked him out into the hallway to regroup.

  But Will had decided that it was sink or swim for MacCameron. If he could not hold up to a deposition with Sherman, surely he would not be able to handle himself in the emotional crucible of a full-blown jury trial.

  “Do you want the question re-read?” Sherman asked.

  “No, I don’t need it re-read. The fact is that I cannot now remember which Christian groups I did, or did not, criticize.”

  Sherman’s next area of interrogation went right to the heart of the case. He tossed some copied papers in front of MacCameron and asked him to read out loud what Sherman had highlighted with a yellow marker. It was a portion of the article that MacCameron had written in the December issue. In it MacCameron had contended that Reichstad “must be connected to the suspicious death of Mr. Azid and the tragic murder of Dr. Hunter.” In the same article he also had written that Reichstad’s conclusions about the 7QA fragment were the result of his “either deliberately lying, or he has committed scientific malpractice.”

  As MacCameron read out loud his seemingly outrageous condemnation of Reichstad from his own magazine article, Sherman studied his opposing counsel. But Will was stone-faced and unperturbed.

  When MacCameron was finished reading, Sherman launched the next assault.

  Prior to writing the article, had MacCameron ever conducted an investigation into whether Reichstad’s conclusions about 7QA were correct?

  “I read every scholarly and professional article about 7QA I could get my hands on,” MacCameron replied. But when he was pressed on that point, he had to admit that not one of those articles suggested that Reichstad’s conclusions were wrong—they only criticized the fact that he would not share the original 7QA fragment with other researchers so they could verify his findings. And he also admitted that not one scholar in the known world had ever written that Reichstad was deliberately lying about what the 7QA fragment was, and what it said.

  Had MacCameron conducted any investigation, himself, into the suicide of Azid and the murder of Hunter, prior to writing that article? No, MacCameron agreed that he had not. Did he have anyone read the article before he published it, to ensure the factual accuracy of his statements? No, he had not. Was MacCameron in possession of any written document or any data from any law-enforcement agency that even slightly suggested that Reichstad might in some way be connected to the deaths of Azid and Hunter? MacCameron had to admit he had no such information.

  As Sherman wound up that line of questioning, he had convincingly painted a picture of MaCameron as a fundamentalist preacher with a tattered employment history and a penchant for intolerance—certainly no professional match for the world-class Reichstad in either credentials or educational qualification. The portrait of MacCameron was of a man who published an outlandish libel against a beloved scholar, having made little or no prior verification of the accuracy of his conclusions.

  Will’s defense of “lack of actual malice” hung now by only one slender thread. The one area that Sherman had not yet entered was the only area left that could form a reasonable basis for MacCameron’s published attacks on Reichstad: that MacCameron had had personal knowledge of the matters that he had written about. Sherman quickly breached that last stronghold.

  “Did you have any personal knowledge or information that supported your attacks on Dr. Reichstad?”

  “Yes,” MacCameron replied, with a smile.

  Sherman then commenced to unravel, in an interrogation that went on for another hour-and-a-half, every detail of Dr. Hunter’s single conversation with MacCameron at the Between the Arches Café in the old section of Jerusalem. And he probed the message left by Hunter on MacCameron’s answering machine.

  Will studied Sherman for some glimmer of response to this thunderbolt of information: a twitch or a blink, or something in his posture that let on that Sherman was having some reaction to MacCameron’s testimony—to his describing Hunter’s fear of being pursued and Hunter’s belief that Azid’s death was not a suicide—or to Hunter’s mysterious fragment that seemed to so closely resemble the 7QA fragment.

  But Sherman revealed no emotion at the tale that MacCameron was telling. He calmly pursued his questions until the last bit of information was extracted.

  Then Sherman turned to Will and said, “We are hereby demanding that you produce to our office, forthwith, that tape recording from your client’s answering machine—the one with Dr. Hunter’s message on it.”

  Will agreed, having no objection to lodge, but said that it would be a matter of a few days before the original tape could be produced. Will did not—nor was he required to—disclose that his own audio expert was analyzing the tape recording at that very moment in hopes of proving that Hunter’s fragment was actually a comment about several “fragments.”

  Near the end of the deposition, Sherman leaned back and asked MacCameron the million-dollar question.

  “Tell me, sir—was there anything in what Hunter told you in person—or on that taped message—that directly proved the truth of anything that you would later write against Dr. Reichstad in your little magazine?”
<
br />   MacCameron, who was now slouched over and looking tired, glanced over at his lawyer. Will noticed that his client had a burdened expression, and there was perspiration collecting on his forehead and on his upper lip.

  There were a few seconds of silence. The court reporter took her fingers off the keys of her steno machine and stretched them, but her eyes were glued on MacCameron, waiting for him to respond. MacCameron gave a little sigh, and then answered.

  “No, sir. Nothing that Richard Hunter said directly proved the things I later decided to write against Dr. Reichstad.”

  Sherman leaned back in his chair. Will could smell death in the air. There was a carcass on the floor of the conference room of Kennelworth, Sherman, Abrams & Cantwell. What Will Chambers knew through his years of trying cases, but MacCameron naively did not know, was that the carcass on the floor was what was left of Angus MacCameron’s legal defense.

  But even Will Chambers did not expect what would come next. Sherman was about to personally bring in the vultures to pick at the carrion.

  “You testified under oath today, Reverend MacCameron—right here in this very room—that you did not leave the University of Edinburgh because of any misconduct. Do you stand by that?”

  “Yes. It is the truth.”

  “Oh, is it? Is it the truth? Mr. MacCameron, I would suggest that in fact you have committed perjury in this very deposition.”

  “No, sir, I have not,” MacCameron retorted loudly. “My answer was truthful to the question, the way you put it.”

  “Is it a fact, sir,” Sherman said, raising his voice, “that just before you left Edinburgh University, formal disciplinary charges against you were about to be prepared by the University—charging you with plagiarism in one of your research papers?”

  Will couldn’t believe it. In all that MacCameron had disclosed to him, this allegation had never surfaced. Sherman’s question about why MacCameron had left the University of Edinburgh was one of the first questions Will had asked his client.