Page 26 of Goodbye Girl
“What about the bank accounts?”
“Isn’t it obvious to you that I’m being set up? Shaky has all my personal information—Social Security number, passport, driver’s license. What more do you need to open a bank account in the Cayman Islands?”
Jack smiled.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
“Long time ago, I had a case involving a Cayman account. I flew to Grand Cayman to talk to the manager. I was young and honestly didn’t know much about offshore banking, so I was expecting see an actual bank—granite floors, teller windows, the usual things. Turned out the ‘bank’ was nothing more than a table at a Jamaican jerk restaurant in a strip mall by the beach. The table next to it was reserved for ‘Joe’s Bank of the Caribbean.’”
“Do you think I would do business with a bank like that?”
“The Cayman Islands have cleaned up their act a lot since those days. But I take your point. If Shaky wanted to set you up and connect you to wire transfers from Latvia to the Cayman Islands, it wouldn’t be difficult.”
A clock tower chimed from somewhere around the block. It was eleven a.m. Jack pulled up the livestream of the press conference on his cellphone. The U.S. attorney was standing at a podium that bore the great seal of the Department of Justice. A team of prosecutors was behind him. Draped on a pole beside them was the American flag. Jack and Imani listened as the charges were announced.
“On behalf of the criminal division of the U.S. Department of Justice and the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of New York, it gives me great pride to announce that today marks the end of the most-visited worldwide digital piracy website in the world. Criminal charges have been filed against thirty-six different defendants in five different countries. Collectively, these defendants and their criminal enterprise stole more than a billion dollars in profits from the U.S. entertainment industry by enabling website visitors to reproduce and distributehundreds of millions of copyrighted motion pictures, video games, television programs, musical recordings, and other electronic media.”
“This is not right,” said Jack. “No way should you be lumped together in the same charging document as these crooks.”
“I guess it gives their case more sex appeal,” said Imani.
“It’s more than that,” said Jack. “They want the judge and jury to see you as part of one big criminal enterprise.”
“Shaky must be having an orgasm,” said Imani.
The prosecutor continued, “The job is far from over. Our cybercrimes unit will continue to work with our law enforcement partners around the globe to identify, investigate, and prosecute those who attempt to illegally profit from the innovation of others. Today’s announcement sends a clear message that cybercriminals can run, but they cannot hide from justice.”
“That’s it,” Imani said angrily. “We’re holding our own press conference.”
“I’m on board with that,” said Jack. “But I don’t want you talking publicly about criminal charges against you. The government can use anything you say against you. I’ll speak as your lawyer with you at my side.”
“We can do it right across the street on the courthouse steps.”
“I like it. But I’ll need time to read the actual criminal complaint and prepare.”
“I’ll give you fifteen minutes,” she said.
Jack had already downloaded the pdf from the DOJ website. “The complaint is over fifty pages. I need more time.”
“We can’t wait any longer than that. News goes viral in real time. Fifteen minutes with no rebuttal is an eternity in cyberspace. I can’t have my name associated with cybercriminals for one minute, let alone fifteen.”
Jack couldn’t disagree. “I’ll keep it short. We can do a more fulsome response later.”
Imani dialed her publicist. A Tweet immediately went out to millions of Imani followers: “Meet me on the courthouse steps at 11:30 a.m.”
Jack took ten minutes to jot down his thoughts. Imani made phone calls.
It was a two-minute walk from the park to the federal courthouse. Crossing the street, Jack witnessed the power of social media in real time. An impromptu social-media blast from Imani had turned the granite steps outside the old Roman Revival–style building into the most crowded public space in Manhattan. Hundreds of fans, bloggers, reporters, and onlookers drawn to the sudden excitement had all gathered in less than fifteen minutes.
“Imani!” someone shouted, spotting her.
Imani took Jack’s arm, and suddenly he was both lawyer and bodyguard as the crowd rushed toward them. They reached the sidewalk, but the crowd would let them go no farther.
“We love you, Imani!” was the message heard over and again, but it was mob-style love, which could take a turn for the worse at any moment.
“Please, let us through!” Imani shouted.
It wasn’t nearly enough to part the Red Sea, but those directly in front of them did back away just enough for Jack and his client to climb up as far as the third step. Jack stopped and turned around. Reporters and their crews did their part and pushed the crowd back far enough to allow the cameras to capture useful video. Jack raised his arms and called for quiet, and for the most part the crowd cooperated and listened. He dispensed with his notes and spoke directly to the cameras.