Federal Prosecutorial Overreach, Murder, Securities Fraud, and Family Intrigue in The Last Trial by Scott Turow
Scott Turow’s novel The Last Trial deals with the federal prosecution of a Nobel Prize winning doctor, Kiril Pafco, for murder and securities fraud (insider trading). The title of this book could have been Hell Hath No Fury as three key players, Innis (the defendant’s ex-lover of 32 years), Donatella (the defendant’s current wife), and Olga (the defendant’s current lover) all seem to hold defendant Dr. Kirro Pafco’s past, present, and future in their immaculately manicured, well tended hands. I love a book where the female cast of characters gives the male ones a run for their money, and often that’s true in the literal sense here as well. I loved Turow’s description of Donatella: “Her diamonds are large and worn unapologetically, like merit badges.”
Is there more to the story than meets the eye? There always is, thank God, and in Turow’s capable hands we love the journey of discovery as much as the brilliant courtroom maneuvers by attorneys graced with instinct, elocution, street smart “thinking out of the box” agility, working with their team whose own skills often catch their first chair by surprise. In this novel, defense attorney Stern’s team member granddaughter Pinky, whose tastes tend to mosh pits, neon colors, and all the accouterments of disaffected youth, is a delight. She’s smart, dogged in her intensity, devours cartons of evidentiary documents like a shredder, has dead on instincts, and literally could save the day.
Defense attorney, Sandy Stern, ruminates in The Last Trial on the effect of complicated layers of arcane governmental regulations and laws, so confusing that planting doubts about premeditation and intent in a juror’s mind is almost easy. Like the title of Harvey Silverglate’s book, Three Felonies a Day, there exists such an agglomeration of laws and regulations that if one scrutinized the life of another, you could no doubt easily make a case that anyone from a senior citizen to a young adult was a malicious law breaking fiend.
Reading this book after having recently read Conviction Machine by Harvey Silverglate and Sidney Powell, was like seeing an example of that book’s premises in action. When I found defense attorney Stern’s assessment of a federal investigation, it was a nod to the issue of unbridled power of federal investigators, and the vulnerabilities of those they target, sometimes unjustly, in a wretched excess of prosecutorial overreach: “To Stern, it has always been easy to imagine how terrifying it would be to have the massive forces of government pinioning you, inspecting, prodding, judging, prospecting for your secrets, with a ruthlessness that must feel as if they are tearing through your flesh.”
I love a good closing argument, and there’s one in here Perry Mason could only dream about writing, an almost deadly summation delivered with all the timing, inflection, glances, and intensity to be a direct hit. The book’s action continues beyond the reaches of the jury’s verdict.
The thought provoking issue of dual citizenship arises, particularly for the wealthy and influential. Recent headlines underscore the implications for the criminal justice system. Ghislaine Maxwell, born in France, raised in the United Kingdom, is a naturalized US citizen, yet also a citizen of the UK and France. Had all three passports not been found at the time of her arrest, dual citizenship not previously disclosed, and she’d been granted bail, how might circumstances have changed? A 2015 article in “The Hill” about conflict of interest in dual citizenship warns, “...media and government watchdog organizations have largely ignored the potential conflict of interest inherent in dual citizenship. Why the neglect of this issue? Shouldn’t members of Congress (and federal judges and executive branch officials) at least be required to disclose their citizenship in another country?”
This book was thought provoking and entertaining; stopping it long enough to return to the responsibilities of real life was sometimes a struggle.
Is there more to the story than meets the eye? There always is, thank God, and in Turow’s capable hands we love the journey of discovery as much as the brilliant courtroom maneuvers by attorneys graced with instinct, elocution, street smart “thinking out of the box” agility, working with their team whose own skills often catch their first chair by surprise. In this novel, defense attorney Stern’s team member granddaughter Pinky, whose tastes tend to mosh pits, neon colors, and all the accouterments of disaffected youth, is a delight. She’s smart, dogged in her intensity, devours cartons of evidentiary documents like a shredder, has dead on instincts, and literally could save the day.
Defense attorney, Sandy Stern, ruminates in The Last Trial on the effect of complicated layers of arcane governmental regulations and laws, so confusing that planting doubts about premeditation and intent in a juror’s mind is almost easy. Like the title of Harvey Silverglate’s book, Three Felonies a Day, there exists such an agglomeration of laws and regulations that if one scrutinized the life of another, you could no doubt easily make a case that anyone from a senior citizen to a young adult was a malicious law breaking fiend.
Reading this book after having recently read Conviction Machine by Harvey Silverglate and Sidney Powell, was like seeing an example of that book’s premises in action. When I found defense attorney Stern’s assessment of a federal investigation, it was a nod to the issue of unbridled power of federal investigators, and the vulnerabilities of those they target, sometimes unjustly, in a wretched excess of prosecutorial overreach: “To Stern, it has always been easy to imagine how terrifying it would be to have the massive forces of government pinioning you, inspecting, prodding, judging, prospecting for your secrets, with a ruthlessness that must feel as if they are tearing through your flesh.”
I love a good closing argument, and there’s one in here Perry Mason could only dream about writing, an almost deadly summation delivered with all the timing, inflection, glances, and intensity to be a direct hit. The book’s action continues beyond the reaches of the jury’s verdict.
The thought provoking issue of dual citizenship arises, particularly for the wealthy and influential. Recent headlines underscore the implications for the criminal justice system. Ghislaine Maxwell, born in France, raised in the United Kingdom, is a naturalized US citizen, yet also a citizen of the UK and France. Had all three passports not been found at the time of her arrest, dual citizenship not previously disclosed, and she’d been granted bail, how might circumstances have changed? A 2015 article in “The Hill” about conflict of interest in dual citizenship warns, “...media and government watchdog organizations have largely ignored the potential conflict of interest inherent in dual citizenship. Why the neglect of this issue? Shouldn’t members of Congress (and federal judges and executive branch officials) at least be required to disclose their citizenship in another country?”
This book was thought provoking and entertaining; stopping it long enough to return to the responsibilities of real life was sometimes a struggle.
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