Success Opulence and Power Read online

  The inspectors and officers were only after one thing: bribes. The license fees would be waived once the supplier or restaurant owner paid the bribe. These bribes were paid in cash, and the cash went straight into the officers’ pockets. Once the bribes had been paid, the licenses would be endorsed with a cheap rubber stamp. Guillermo knew that by feeding his port officer friend on the house, he would never have to worry about the validation fees. It was also less expensive than constantly having to pay the bribes.

  As far as Guillermo was concerned, this wasn’t a friendship. He didn’t enjoy the officer’s company, he saw the whole thing as a business arrangement. The officer, on the other hand, was an opportunist who enjoyed the free food and occasional booze. He was fully aware that Guillermo equally benefited from their arrangement. The officer knew that Guillermo would be able to avoid paying the bribes by simply dropping the officer’s name when other port officials showed up. In fact, most officers were aware of the arrangement, so they didn’t bother doing the checks at Guillermo’s place. This was standard practice in the region. All the officers frequented the shops, butcheries, and markets for regular checks. Establishments that had desirable commodities would offer these instead of the bribes, if the officers felt that it was a suitable option.

  The waiter finally walked over with tray in hand, and Guillermo shouted at him. “What took so long, can you not see that my good friend is hungry, yet you keep him waiting?” The restaurant employees knew that Guillermo was only putting on a show for the officer, so they didn’t take it personal.

  “Why don’t you join me?” The officer invited Guillermo to partake in the meal; this was customary in the region.

  Guillermo replied, “I’m okay, thank you. I already had some food, all I need now is my El Toro and my cashews.” While the men ate and drank the officer talked about his job and all the pressures that came with it, and Guillermo listened attentively. People that frequented the restaurant always had something to talk about. Sometimes the information that he gained from conversations was useful and other times, not so much. Guillermo’s mindset was to use vital information for personal gain but disregard anything that was unimportant.

  By the time the officer had finished his shrimp and rice pottage, Guillermo could tell that he was ready for another Cerveza, so he beckoned the waiter over by signalling with a drinking gesture. The officer was in more of a talking mood than usual on that day, and he started talking about his plans for the future.

  “Guillermo, one isn’t getting younger, and time waits for no one. This job of mine pays, but it doesn’t pay enough, if you know what I mean.” Guillermo acknowledged this with a nod.

  The waiter arrived again with tray in hand and set the Cerveza in front of the officer. The officer took a gulp, put the bottle down, and continued. “You see my friend, given my age, at this point in my career I can only be promoted one, maybe two more times, and even at that point I still won’t become a senior officer. By the time I retire I won’t have enough money to provide a decent future for my children. You see, in the port authority, only the senior officers make the big money.”

  Again, being an attentive listener, Guillermo merely responded with a nod. The officer paused and took another gulp from the cold bottle that had formed some condensation due to the hot Dominican weather. The officer put the drink back down and glanced through the restaurant window. With the view from the restaurant, he could see the sun was about to set and people were relaxing and having a good time. There was music playing, people sat on benches drinking, chatting, and singing. This was what the atmosphere was like every evening in that part of Puerto Plata.

  It had become apparent that the conversation was about to get serious as the officer turned his head back towards Guillermo. He took another gulp from the almost empty bottle. “My friend,” the officer leaned forward and said in a low voice, almost whispering, “I need to make moves; I am moving to America.”

  Guillermo leaned forward and mimicked the officer’s tone, “For people like you and me, it is impossible to get visas to America.”

  The officer stared at Guillermo with a mischievous look on his face, as though he knew the world’s biggest secret, and no one else knew about it. He sipped what was left of the Cerveza, and Guillermo signalled the waiter to bring over another bottle.

  The officer pretended to protest, “Guillermo, this is too much. The food, the drinks, please allow me to give you some money for this.”

  Guillermo insisted, “For you, it’s on the house—your money is no good here.”

  Just as the waiter arrived with the third bottle of Cerveza, the officer continued the conversation. “In my line of work, we meet all kinds of people: some good, some bad, some useful, some useless. I met a useful person a while back, and this person will be key in helping me make my moves.” The officer told Guillermo about a special cargo ship that often docked at the port. This ship’s main purpose was to transport goods to and from Miami. The officer’s whisper got even quieter as he explained how the ship was used to illegally transport people from Puerto Plata to Miami.

  Information about the ship’s illegal activities was available to the officer, because he was friends with a member of the ship’s crew, a man named Jean-Luc Pierre. This cargo ship was not under the officer’s jurisdiction, so Jean-Luc had to introduce the officer to other port officers, crew members, and the ship’s captain. Following the introduction, the officer referred trusted clients on a regular basis. These clients were people that were interested in migrating to America and had enough money to do so. In return for the people the officer brought in, Jean-Luc’s crew would pay him a finder’s fee.

  This operation was allowed to continue because there was so much corruption in government. The high-ranking officials were too busy misappropriating government funds to be concerned with such trivial matters. Some were even awarded a share of the proceeds from the dodgy venture. A proportion of the money collected from the illegal travellers would be used to bribe port officials in America. For a set fee, the travellers were allowed to enter the United States covertly. This ship and others like it were responsible for roughly three percent of the illegal immigrants residing in the United States. With such a vast number of illegal migrants, one could conclude that the cargo ship was pulling in millions of dollars annually.

  “So you see, my friend, once I have enough money, the plan is to use the ship’s travel service to move my entire family to America. I tell you this only because you’re a friend.”

  Guillermo leaned forward. “My good friend, I hope that you are successful with the moves that you intend on making.”

  The officer wasn’t telling Guillermo all this because they were friends; he told him in case there was a chance that Guillermo might be able to bring in potential travellers. The officer downed the rest of his beer, got up, and shook Guillermo’s hand. “Guillermo, you are too good to me. My regards to your family, and I will see you soon.” Guillermo smiled, got up from his chair, and they both headed towards the exit.

  Chapter 3

  The Defence Team

  Where: DC Corrections Division, The United Nations of Europe and Americas — Washington, DC

  When: 1135 hours, Tuesday, October 1, 2041

  Currency: UNEA credits

  Getting His Honour to grant bail was going to be close to impossible, but that didn’t stop my lawyer from asking.

  “Your Honour, Edward Dominguez is a respectable member of society. He is a family man and has been a law-abiding citizen his entire life. Mr. Dominguez owns several reputable businesses across the Nations, and these businesses provide a source of income to many. He is known to support a number of charities; he has never been connected to illegal activities; and he has never been charged with, or convicted of, any crimes. Your Honour, these outrageous charges have caused a significant amount of damage to my client’s image and reputation. This debacle has had a significant impact on his family life, destabilizing what was once a happy home. W
e plead with Your Honour that my client be allowed to be with his family during these trying times. We request my client be granted bail, Your Honour,” my lawyer pleaded.

  My lawyer sounded convincing. I was even starting to believe that I was a saint, and that this whole thing was a big misunderstanding. The prosecution, however, wanted to draw blood. You could see it in their eyes—they weren’t having any of it. The lead prosecutor jumped out of his seat to object.

  “Your Honour, we have evidence that proves the defendant has access to a substantial amount of offshore funds. He also owns a number of real estate investments outside of the UNEA. For these reasons, we believe that he is a flight risk. We request that the court deny bail due to the serious nature of the crimes with which the defendant has been charged, Your Honour.”

  My lawyer was really good but, considering the damning argument that the prosecution had just made, it now seemed they were going to give him a run for his money.

  Joseph Abrams was sharp. I put him on retainer about eighteen years ago, but before throwing all that money his way, I did a bit of research on him. This guy finished law school at the top of his class at the age of twenty-five and passed the bar at twenty-six. He initially worked for a couple of law firms but ended up setting up his own firm shortly after I put him on retainer. His previous firms had no intention of making Joe partner, so naturally, he decided to leave. He acquired a number of clients during his tenure at these firms, clients that he didn’t hesitate to take with him when he left.

  Members of the Assembly also used Joe’s services, which guaranteed him all the clients he needed to pay for the costs associated with running his firm and still have a surplus. Over time, Joe and I became close friends; he also became friends with members of the Assembly. He would bring his family over for Sunday lunch; his wife and my wife developed a good friendship and kept in touch with each other.

  Joe’s co-counsel was an intern fresh out of law school, a kid named Fredric Johnson. This kid was bright, and Joe saw a lot of himself in the young intern. He believed that with good mentoring the youngster would turn out to be a fine lawyer; he was grooming the kid with the intention of making him a partner. Of course, Fredric would have to work hard and pay his dues.

  “Objection, Your Honour,” Joe barked. “As stated previously, my client owns several businesses within the UNEA; jumping bail and fleeing the UNEA would be of no benefit to him. There would be severe disruption to the services of several establishments that rely on his day-to-day involvement and decision making. Moreover, the idea of fleeing would be preposterous, considering that my client has worked hard to establish a good life for himself and his family right here in the UNEA. Not only that, but fleeing the UNEA would send the wrong message to his clients and business partners. He would appear guilty, and people would cease to do business with him. Your Honour, jumping bail would make no sense at all, and it just isn’t in my client’s best interest.”

  “Mr. Abrams, there is no need to be overly dramatic. You do realize this is only the arraignment, right?” replied the judge.

  “Apologies, Your Honour, I admit that maybe I’m being a bit overdramatic at this point of the proceedings. I’m simply concerned about the prosecution’s extreme hostility in regards to the bail request. At the end of the day, it is a man’s life we are talking about here, and I want him to be treated fairly, in line with the provisions of the law,” Joe responded.

  “We will have a thirty-minute recess, after which I will give my decision on the issue of bail. Court is now in recess,” said the judge.

  I didn’t expect this; the judge actually needed time to think about whether or not to grant bail. Perhaps Joe knew what he was doing all along, perhaps he had his strategy planned out before the arraignment. Prior to the hearing, he told me that not all hope was lost, and that we might get lucky with bail. I couldn’t see how this had happened, considering how fierce the prosecution was.

  The Vexa True D-i was powered down by one of the prison enforcers. Speaking through the intercom, the enforcer said it was okay for me to disengage from my Vexa positioning. Shortly after this, I had an incoming call on the prison’s comms device. The ID read Joseph Abrams.

  “What’s up, Joe?”

  “Dom, how are you holding up?”

  “Not bad. You didn’t do too bad in there, you know. The prosecution hates you as much as they do me. Also, you forced the good judge to have to think about bail—nice work!”

  “Ha-ha, that’s why you pay me the big bucks, good friend. Look Dom, we are not going down without a fight. I am going to pour my all into this trial.”

  “Do I need to worry about anyone one else listening to our conversation over this comms line?”

  “Nope, not at all—the calls aren’t recorded. That would be highly unconstitutional, the courts would be subject to all kinds of inquisitions, and a lot of old cases would get thrown out. So, even if they were listening, our conversation would be inadmissible evidence.”

  “Good—Alex and Chris. How far have they gotten gathering jury info?”

  “Nothing at this point. I’m afraid we don’t even know who these people are, and the court has them under watch twenty-four-seven. I’ll be honest with you, Dom, messing with the jury is not an option here.”

  “What then?”

  “Well, we will have to wait until the prosecution presents its evidence. Then we will know what we are up against and deal with it accordingly. Once I have all the information, I will be in a position to start preparing my argument.”

  “Okay.”

  “We just have to pray that bail is granted. This will give you an opportunity to meet with people, make the necessary plans, move some money around… You know, the opportunity to sort out all the things that need sorting out.”

  “Okay.”

  “I better start making my way back to the courtroom, we’ll talk later. Hang in there, Dom.”

  “Thanks, speak to you soon, Joe.”

  Joe was shrewd, but I could tell the case seemed to have him on edge a bit. Not sure if this was because of genuine friendship and loyalty, or if it was the possibility of his practice suffering a financial blow if I ended up spending the rest of my life in prison. Joe has done exceptionally well being on my payroll, and me behind bars wouldn’t be in his best interest.

  I was worried about how things would transpire. I wasn’t sure how my family would cope if I had to do time. I wasn’t sure what would happen to the empire I had worked so hard to build. I had plausible reasons to completely lose my cool, but somehow, I was able to keep my nerves under control.

  The buzzer sounded, alerting me that the Vexa was about to start transmitting—court recess was almost over. I sat back down in the Vexa chair. A few minutes later, the judge emerged from the side door that led to his chambers, and again everyone was asked to rise.

  As the judge approached his desk, I couldn’t tell what was going to happen next, gauging by the look on his face alone. He looked as angry as he did before he left the room. After the good judge sat down, everyone else in the courtroom sat down as well. I also sat back down on my jailhouse throne. There was what felt like a million minutes of silence, and the tension was palpable. No one knew what the judge’s decision was going to be. Joe needed me out on bail, as this would make the trial a lot easier to manage. We would be able to talk more freely in private, and I would be able to attend meetings with key individuals to smooth things over and to make sure that business would continue to run efficiently.

  The prosecution, on the other hand, wanted me to remain in custody for the duration of the trial for those same reasons. They didn’t want me to salvage any of my business relations. Denying me bail would also give them an upper hand in that I would not be able to make public appearances and influence members of the community to my advantage.

  Even though they had a solid case, the prosecutors knew that my being restricted to the confines of prison made their jobs a whole lot easier.

  T
he judge finally decided to start speaking again. “I have listened to the prosecution and the defence; both sides have made compelling arguments regarding bail. Although this case is being referred to by the media as a high-profile case, not a single decision in my court will be made as a result of classifications made by the press or anyone else. We are members of a respectable judicial system, and we have to act in a responsible and professional manner. For this reason, I will do everything within my power to ensure that justice is what takes precedence during these proceedings, from start to finish. After careful deliberation, I have decided that, because Mr. Dominguez has never been convicted of any crimes and fleeing the UNEA realistically would not be in his best interest, bail will be granted.”

  “But Your Honour!” the lead prosecutor responded in shock.

  “I have made my decision. Bail is set at thirty million credits. Mr. Dominguez, you are not to step foot outside of the UNEA. A tracking bracelet will be placed on your wrist, which should not be tampered with or removed. These are the terms of your bail. Any violation of these terms nullifies your bail, you will be fined five million credits, and you will be returned to jail. Court adjourned,” the judge concluded.

  I stood up and replied, “Thank you, Your Honour.” I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I panned over to Joe, and he looked almost as shocked as I did. I’m sure that deep inside he must have had his doubts about getting bail. The look on the prosecutors’ faces almost brought a grin to mine, but I kept my cool.

  Chapter 4

  I Want In

  Where: Puerto Plata

  When: 1725 hours, Friday, April 14, 1995

  Currency: Dominican peso

  Guillermo couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with the officer—migrating to America with his family would mean better opportunities. He had heard stories about people who travelled to America and made a decent life for themselves. He believed that the Americans had it way too easy. As far as he was concerned, they had life handed to them on a platter, and they didn’t know how to make the best of the opportunities available to them. He also believed, that, if given the opportunity to go to America, he would become wealthy in a matter of years. With the information he received from the officer, he was going to find a way to get himself and his family to America, one way or another. He didn’t have much information about the logistics of the special cargo ship, but he was already devising a plan to come up with the travel fare. It had been weeks since his discussion with the officer, and though the officer had visited the restaurant frequently, Guillermo hadn’t mentioned his travel interest.