Chapter 16
Stan Turner
Stan was nervous as he sat with Ram and Melakea in the courtroom of the United States Bankruptcy Court for the Northern District of Texas, Dallas Division, to prove-up their Chapter 11 plan. Nobody had objected and he had a right to cram down the plan anyway, but he always feared someone would show up at the last minute to object and complicate matters. After several more anxious moments the bailiff told everyone to rise. A door opened to their left and the judge took the bench.
“You may be seated,” the judge said.
The clerk called the docket and everyone gave their time estimates for each matter and Stan was assigned the third slot on the docket. He had estimated ten minutes given that there were no filed objections. The first two matters were default motions to lift the automatic stay and they were finished well under the ten minutes allotted.
“In re: Pakimart Grocery,” the judge said.
Stan stood up and motioned for Ram to follow him up to the podium. “Your Honor, this is a confirmation hearing on the debtor’s Chapter 11 plan of reorganization. Mr. Bakira is a general partner in Pakimart Grocery. He filed his plan on June 7, 1997 and a confirmation packet including a disclosure document and ballot was sent to each creditor on the debtor’s matrix filed with this court. There have been no objections filed against the plan and a two-thirds majority in number and of total unsecured claims have approved the plan.”
“Very well,” the judge said. “You may call your first witness.”
“The debtor-in-possession calls Ramadan Bakira.”
Ram took the witness stand and Stan began to question him.
“Now, Mr. Bakira. What is your position with Pakimart Grocery?”
“I’m the managing partner.”
“And how long have you been operating the business as managing partner?”
“About eight months.”
“And how did you acquire your interest in the partnership?”
“I purchased it for $250,000.”
“Where did you get the $250,000 to invest in the business?”
“It was my families’ life savings.”
“Your family back in Pakistan?”
“Yes. My mother, father, two brothers and a sister.”
“Now since you purchased the business has your partner participated in the management at all?”
“No. All he has done is take money each month from the cash register and threaten me and my family if I objected.”
“Now in your plan you propose that all partnership interests be forfeited?”
“That’s correct.”
“And the plan provides that in exchange for a $25,000 capital contribution to the company you and your wife will become the sole owners of the debtor-in-possession?”
“Correct.”
“And you have that money and are prepared to make that contribution?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Very well—”
“I object!” a voice said from the gallery. A large Pakistani man with bulging cheeks had stood up. Ram’s mouth dropped open when he saw Sammy had shown up. “That’s my store and you can’t just take away my share.”
“Sit down!” the judge said irritably. “When Mr. Turner is done I’ll give anyone who wants to speak a chance to address the court.”
“I started that company five years ago!” Sammy continued.
“Sit down, sir!” the judge repeated.
“Alright. Alright,” Sammy said and reluctantly sat down.
Stan’s stomach twisted into a knot at Sammy’s outburst. He feared his strategy was about to go down the toilet. He took a deep breath. “So, Mr. Bakira, are you asking this court to confirm your plan of reorganization?”
“Yes, I am.”
“And do you believe that you will be able to pay the $1,750 a month payments required under the plan to pay priority creditors what they are due as well as the ten percent dividend to unsecured creditors.”
“Yes, we’re setting aside that amount each month now and I’m sure we will be able to continue it for the six years of the plan.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bakira.”
“Pass the witness,” Stan said.
“Very well. Does the U.S. Trustee want to cross examine the witness?”
The attorney for the trustee stood up. “No, Your Honor. We favor the plan.”
“Alright. The gentleman who stood up earlier. Would you like to address the court?”
Sammy stood up. “Yes, I would. This plan is an outrage. I started this grocery store and now Ram is trying to steal it from me.”
“What is your name, Sir,” the judge asked.
“Saman Keashkear.”
“Are you the same Saman Keashkear who this court found in contempt a few weeks ago?”
Sammy shrugged. “I got something from the court about that.”
“Did you bother to read it?”
Sammy shook his head. “No, I glanced at it.”
“I see. Are you prepared to pay the fine imposed by this court at this time?”
“How much is it?”
The judge looked down at her file. “Let’s see. $3,000.00 for contempt, $750 attorney’s fees and $120.00 costs of court.”
“I didn’t bring that kind of money with me,” Sammy protested.
“Then Bailiff, take Mr. Keashkear into custody until such time as he purges himself of his contempt!”
A big grin came over the bailiff’s face as he walked briskly over to Sammy. He turned him around rudely and cuffed him. The gallery stirred at the spectacle and Ram looked as white as a sheet. After Sammy was gone the judge continued.
“Since there have been no objections to the plan proposed by the debtor-in-possession and the court believes it will be in the best interest of the creditors, the plan is approved. The next case is the Baldwin matter.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Stan said. “May we be excused?”
“Yes, you may,” the judge said with a hint of a smile on her face.
When they got out into the hallway Ram turned to Stan as Melakea walked up. “I wish the judge hadn’t done that. Sammy is going to kill me.”
Stan sighed. “Well, hopefully a day or two in jail will send him a message that he can’t just do what he pleases here in America.”
“You don’t understand. He doesn’t care about the law or the courts. He has been humiliated and he’s going to take it out on me and my family.”
“What can I say, Ram? There is a court order protecting you. If you don’t think Sammy will respect the law then you need to hire effective security. I’ve done all I can legally to protect you.”
Ram took a long breath. “I know. I’m just scared. Thank you for what you have done. I can’t believe Melakea and I own our own store now.”
“Yes, and as long as you can keep it profitable you won’t have to worry about being deported back to Pakistan.”
“Thank you, Mr. Turner,” Melakea said. “I feel so much better now.”
“Good. I’m glad I was able to help.”
Stan left the courtroom with mixed emotions. His master plan had worked but he couldn’t feel good about it with Sammy out there with revenge on his mind. As he was getting into his car to return to the office he remembered Jodie had given him a name and address of a man who had sold his home to Wilkinson Properties so they could build an office building in Oak Cliff. According to the deed records Paul Robinson’s property was the final piece acquired by them for its 10.5 acre office park development. The address was on Lemon Avenue so he took a detour on the way back to the office to see if he could track down Mr. Robinson.
His office was at the end of a strip shopping center so he parked in front and went inside. After he confirmed the suite number on the building directory Stan took the elevator to the sixth floor. Suite 613 was at the end of the hall and there was a sign that indicated it was the offices of Paul G. Robinson, Certified Public Accountant. Stan pushed the door open and stepped inside. There was no
receptionist so he rang a bell to announce his arrival. A thin, gray-haired man appeared.
“Can I help you?”
“Paul Robinson?”
“Yes.”
“Hi. I’m Stan Turner,” Stan said handing Robinson a card.
Robinson studied it a minute and then looked up. “What can I do for you?”
“I was doing some research in the deed records and I noticed you sold some property to Wilkinson Properties a year or two ago.”
Robinson stiffened. “What’s this about?”
“Oh, nothing to be concerned about. Wilkinson Properties is pressuring a client of mine to sell his restaurant and I wanted to get some insight into how best to negotiate with them.”
“Forget it,” Robinson snickered. “They don’t negotiate, they just steal.”
“What do you mean?” Stan asked.
“You can’t negotiate with them. Whatever they offered you is what they will pay and if you resist they will hurt you. Believe me, I know.”
“Why? What happened to you?”
“They came to me wanting to buy our home but I refused to sell. It was our homestead. It was paid for and we had planned to live there the rest of our lives, but they had a different idea. They increased their offer to the point it was ridiculous, but it wasn’t about money. Our children had grown up in our home and we had fond memories. There was no reason to sell. We didn’t need the money, but they wouldn’t leave us alone.”
“So, what made you sell?”
“Someone broke into our house and stole all my wife’s jewelry, our TVs, stereos, computers—everything we had of any value. We had insurance so losing that stuff wasn’t so bad, but it was the loss and destruction of all our photographs and souvenirs that upset us the most. That made it personal.”
“What do you mean?” Stan asked.
“They took all of our photographs of our children growing up, our vacations and family gatherings and burned them in the fireplace.”
“What? You’re kidding?”
“No. I’m afraid not. We knew we’d never feel safe in the house again, so we accepted the offer.”
“Do you think Wilkinson Properties was behind the burglary?”
“Yes, but we didn’t dare accuse them of it. If they would resort to burglary and theft to get our property what would stop them from hurting us?”
“Right,” Stan said. He wondered if he should tell him about their suspicions that Tom Wilkinson was behind three murders, but then thought better of it. He didn’t want to be sued for slander if it turned out he couldn’t prove it.”
“So, would you be willing to testify as to what you just told me?”
Robinson paled. “What? No. No way.”
Stan laughed. “I didn’t figure you would, but I had to ask.”
“No. Please keep us out of this, okay?”
“Okay,” he said. He thanked Robinson and left. When he got back to the office he told Paula what he had learned.
“So, how do we prove Wilkinson is behind the murders?” Paula asked.
“Well, we’ve got one of his henchmen, Chris Hunt, at the restaurant when the murders took place. We have Sonia’s belief that Jamison was posing as a TU Electric meter reader to gain access to Ricardo’s apartment so they could plant the shoe box full of money and get some of the rat poison to use for the murders.”
Paula nodded. “We need something concrete. Something that is irrefutable.”
“Well, Besch is going to compare the unidentified fingerprints on the rat poison and the shoe box to Tom Wilkinson and his gang. Hopefully one of them got careless and left a print.”
“That’s not likely,” Paula said.
“I know, but we might get lucky.”
“Boy, if we did, I think the jury would have a hard time convicting Ricardo.”
“I think you’re right,” Stan agreed.
“I wish I could question Wilkinson and find out where he was on the night of the murders.”
“Well, I’m sure he has an alibi. He wouldn’t get near the crime scene. He’s obviously not stupid.”
“No, I don’t suppose he is.”
“So, how did your bankruptcy hearing go?” Paula asked.
“Fine. I got the case confirmed despite Sammy’s objections.”
“Sammy had the nerve to show up for the hearing?”
“Yes, and it was a big mistake because of the contempt judgment out on him.”
“What happened?” Paula asked excitedly.
“The judge asked him if he could pay the outstanding judgment and when he said he couldn’t, she had the bailiff haul him off to jail.”
Paula’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God! I bet he was pissed.”
“He was and now Ram is terrified that he’ll take his anger out on Ram and his family when he gets out.”
“That would be another violation, though.”
“True. So, hopefully he won’t do it, but Ram doesn’t think that will matter. In order to save face with the Pakistani community, he has to punish Ram.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
Stan shrugged. “What can I do? I told Ram he needed to have security 24/7.”
Stan sensed that Paula had something she wanted to ask him but when she didn’t say anything he went back to his office. His phone messages had piled up so he started going through them. When he came to one from Detective Besch, he picked up the phone and dialed the number. There was no answer so when the automated answering machine came on he left his number. Stan was disappointed because the only thing he figured Besch could be calling about would be the fingerprint comparisons. He prayed he had good news.