A deal with the District Attorney for at least one more of the defendants in the AIG/Matrix Embezzlement case was most likely to happen that day in the Santa Ana Court House.  My prediction was that George Martinez, whom I consider to be the least guilty of all the guilty, was going to change his plea to guilty and cut a deal.  That was predicted to happen according to information I had managed to squeeze out of the DA’s office, and also it was possible but not as likely, that Rene Montes, the mastermind of the conspiracy, and Hector Porrata, the dedicated partner to the mastermind, might complete plea deals as well.

On March 26th, just exactly a week prior, Cara Cruz-Thompson pled guilty to 11 counts of insurance fraud and 11 counts of grand theft, plus one count of conspiracy in exchange for 2 years in state prison.  Her formal sentencing will take place on May 7th, a date which comes one year and one day after she was arrested in front of her house in Victorville, California, after a police officer tricked her into coming out of her house in her pajamas after he called Cara from Hector Porrata’s cell phone and told her he had Hector out front and in custody.  Cara was then and there also arrested, and she has been in jail ever since.

Cara will get credit for “good time/work time” of one year in the county jail, which will translate into 2 years credit in state prison according to the system.  Thus, at midnight of May 7th, if all goes as planned, after formal sentencing in Frank Fasel’s court room that day, Cara will walk out of jail a free woman.  But she’ll have the enormous burden of a felony conviction on her head plus the obligation to pay $143,000 to AIG/Chartis Insurance Company and $81,653.33 to Matrix Absence Management in restitution.

When I got to the Court House and went through security at the entrance, the security officer grabbed my purse and sent it back through the metal detector.  That has never happened before in any of the dozens of times I have passed through security there.  He asked me if I had a cork screw in my purse.  I said no.  The woman behind me could not resist laughing.  I took the escalator to the second floor, then waited for the elevator.  The elevator opened and there was that same woman in the elevator, still smiling and laughing about the alleged cork screw in my purse. 

“So are you going to pop open a bottle of wine in the court room?” she teased.  She really got a kick out of that.  She might have been an attorney, as she was well dressed in a fine suit and had an assertive, cheerful personality—all fine qualities in a lawyer.  I wondered what was in my purse that looked like a cork screw.  I had all the same crap in my purse that I’d had in there for weeks.  Maybe it was my circular hair brush.  Or the collage of twenty to thirty pens which always wind up at the bottom. Who knows?  But that woman really loved it.  Perhaps it was a sign.

Once in the court room, it was the proverbial waiting game.  The judge wasn’t there.  The Deputy District Attorney on this case, Thomas Schultz, was sitting directly across the aisle on my left, from where I sat on the end in the center aisle of the fourth row.  There were only about five or six other people present, along with two deputies, including another DA working on another case and the court clerk.  So, we all sat there in this somewhat empty court room waiting a very long time.  There were even moments when it seemed as quiet as a morgue.

I noticed a slim woman with reddish brown hair whom I had seen before observing the Preliminary Hearing.  She sat very stoically three rows in a direct line behind me.  She looked very sad.  Actually, her face was completely expressionless, as if she were frozen.  I tried to look at her in a discrete way, but it was hard because she was directly behind my head, but what I could manage to feel was that she was in a sort of emotional paralysis.  She was well groomed and her hair was nicely styled.  I imagined that she was George Martinez’s wife.  But I’m not sure. 

The other case was heard and we were back to the waiting game again.  Mary Kreber arrived, George Martinez’s attorney, wearing an incredibly attractive black suit with a wide pleat in the back sporting her vintage black patent leather shoes; but this was a different pair she was wearing today, ones that had pyramid shaped heels.  I had never seen this particular pair before.   Mary sat down next to Thomas Schultz.  Then soon Gil Carreon arrived, Hector Porrata’s attorney, wearing a charcoal suit with a striped shirt with another one of his wild ties.  It was hard to see the detail of this tie through the distance, but I could make out a wide mouth with a big red tongue sticking out on the print.

The defendants were finally led in.  The side door behind the court clerk’s desk was opened by one of the deputies and Hector, Rene and George came up the stairs and lined into the room.  When Hector walked in front of me I could sense that he had cut himself shaving, as he had a small piece of gauze stuck to his face just next to his left ear.

It’s hard to describe Hector Porrata’s looks.  He’s a unique looking man.  His nose is slightly too large for his face, not excessively too large.  It still fits in.  His smile really lights up his face, but he smiles infrequently.  I saw him smile brightly once: I think it was in response to something one of the attorneys said.  He looked good with such a spontaneous bright smile.

His skin is a sort of ashen grey color.  He always keeps his hair very short and closely cropped to his head.  And he never shaves it like Rene Montes does.  I always try to imagine him wearing a designer suit.

The first thing I noticed when the three defendants were escorted out the door which opens up from stairs which lead up from a lower floor, is that they were all wearing these neon bright orange tennis shoes.   They are those traditional-conventional tennis shoes which have been around since way before sophisticated modern sports shoes, such as Nike and Adidas now make.  We used to also call them deck shoes. 

Well, these deck shoes were just a screaming orange.  Maybe an electric orange.  One could spot somebody wearing that foot-wear a mile away.  Is that the reason they put inmates in those shoes?  It’s got to be.  No inmate could get far or blend in anywhere wearing those things. Talk about anti-camouflage.  Those shoes stick out like a drunken sailor in a nunnery. 

So, in they shuffled wearing those electric orange deck shoes, loose yellow jail pants, and Hector was wearing a blue v-necked jail shirt, as was George (with a white t-shirt showing from underneath it), while Rene Montes was wearing a baggy orange smock over a yellow jump suit.  They just looked wild in all those colors. 

The waiting game continued.  What was the judge doing?  I looked at Hector and he nodded at me.   All the defendants now sat in the first row of the jury box.  There are no cages in this court room.  Gil Carreon walked over and sat in the seat next to Hector.  Hector leaned sideways and whispered in Gil’s ear.  They continued to converse privately in inaudible voices.

George sat in the middle but did not communicate with Mary Kreber.  Mary had expressed to the deputy earlier that she had already spoken to George at the jail.  Fred McBride walked over towards Rene Montes, but then turned around and said to the deputy, “That lady is there…”  He was referring to me.  It was clear that Fred was afraid I was going to overhear his conversation with his client and write about it, so he got the deputy to unhandcuff Rene from the chair, hand-cuff him independently behind his back, and open the door again. Then Fred and Rene walked down the stairs and the door was closed behind them. 

Fred McBride reminds me of a puppy dog.  He has a loveable personality which is warm and affectionate just like a puppy dog.  When he had first arrived inside the court room he spoke out with alacrity, “What are we doing today?  What’s my offer?”  He’s a chipper and cheerful sort of man who is always making good humor. 

Now he was down in the dungeon with Rene well outside the realm of my earshot.  Mary had left the court room, but suddenly I could hear her laughter.  It came from behind the wall behind the judge’s bench, so I guessed she was back with the judge in his chambers.   The seats in the audience area were now almost completely empty with the exception of one occupied by myself, one by one other person on my far right in the other aisle, and one by the silent, emotionally frozen woman directly behind me.

I studied George Martinez’s face.  He looked more tired than I’d ever seen him before.  I could feel that jail life was really getting to him. Wearing down his spirit.  He now has growing bags under his eyes and his large mustache appears to droop down.  His soul has been pulled asunder. 

Rene Montes came back to his jury box chair, and was left there with his hands cuffed behind his back next to George and Hector, while all the attorneys disappeared into the judge’s chambers.  Time went by.  More time went by.   I could hear more of Mary’s laughter, then all of the attorneys’ laughter.  They were carrying on back there while everybody waited.  And waited.  And waited.

I was now worried that I was going to be late for my luncheon with Kerry Hennessy, the Manager of Customer Relations of ISYS, the Nurse Case Manager referral company, and the owner of that company, Chris Loumakis.  I hate being late and forcing people to wait for me.  So, I started feeling a bit of anxiety.  I kept waiting, and waiting, and watching the clock.

After what seemed like forever, the attorneys filed out from the back room.  Mary approached George Martinez and spoke to him, “They’re going to continue it for a week.”

It took two and a half hours along with all the pomp and circumstance of the defendants being escorted into the court room, for it to then be decided that it was going to be just another continuance. So, now, it’s continued until April 9th.  Until this coming Friday. Once again. Ad nauseum. 

The defendants were escorted out: Rene with his wrists cuffed behind his back, George with his hands chained loosely to his sides around his hips, and Hector handcuffed in front.  This time they did not descend down the stairs behind the side door, but they walked out the back door along side the judge’s chambers.  I turned around and looked behind me, and noticed the woman I think might be George Martinez’s wife had disappeared.

I hurried to my car hoping I would not be late to my luncheon with the owner and the manager of ISYS.  I wasn’t late. I arrived right on time to my great relief.  When the waitress asked me if I wanted a drink, I hesitated.  I did not want to look conspicuous by drinking a glass of wine all alone. So, Chris Loumakis ordered a very fine bottle of cabernet sauvignon for the table, to my extreme delight.

I rarely drink wine at lunch, but this day was special.  It was Good Friday, and I think in my unconscious I was steeped in the symbolism of the spilling of the blood of Christ.  This was the day of the Crucifixion.  And the symbol of the dark red wine was felt in my soul.  Now, I know why that security officer saw a cork screw in my purse, and why that woman laughed and felt so overjoyed by his vision. 

I believe it was a sign.  So, I am now going to watch for all signs leading up to this coming Friday, April 9th, when I will be back in court.  I’ll look for the signs pointing to what will be the future sentences for Rene, Hector and George. 

Readers may write to writer Lonce LaMon at lonce@adjustercom.com