This morning, I have a political thriller to share! Check out legal thriller When Canaries Die, read a guest post from the author and learn more about author Luis Figueredo!
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A deadly pandemic. A broken system. One attorney fighting for justice.
Hotshot Miami attorney Pierce Evangelista is thrust into a world on the brink of collapse as a
relentless virus sweeps the globe. Amidst the chaos, he takes on a high-stakes legal battle
against the U.S. government, challenging immigration policies that have left thousands of
asylum-seekers trapped in dire conditions.
As the virus spreads unchecked and the demand for blood transfusions soars, criminal
organizations seize the opportunity—turning human blood into a lucrative black-market
commodity. In the lawless border towns of Tijuana, Juarez, and Matamoros, desperation fuels
corruption, and survival comes at a steep price.
With powerful forces standing in his way, Pierce must navigate a treacherous landscape of law,
politics, and crime to reopen the borders and save innocent lives. But in a world where survival
and exploitation go hand in hand, how far will he go to seek justice?
A gripping legal thriller infused with science fiction and suspense, this high-stakes battle for
humanity will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very last page.
Book three in the Pierce Evangelista Thrillers series but can be read as a standalone.
Buy the Book
Read an Excerpt
Chapter Forty-Nine
New Orleans
Thirteen high-back chairs stood around a long table. All but two were occupied. One on one end
was C. Edward Pettigrew, an accomplished mediator. On the other end, Ben Bowman was seated
like the godfather in a gangster flick. To his right, Evan Dunn, his wartime consigliere. Next to
him was Frank Collins. The other seven chairs around the table were his team of grim-faced
legal assassins, his capos.
Bowman instantly recognized Maggie from her video and stared at her through contemptuous
eyes. Pierce and Maggie took the two open seats closest to Pettigrew. Pettigrew gave a few
opening remarks before turning to Pierce as counsel for the plaintiffs. He had no set formula for
how to conduct his mediations. Pettigrew permitted the parties to determine the course.
Pierce attempted a brief introductory statement. Bowman made it his mission to rattle him
and get on his nerves. Each time Pierce spoke, Bowman interrupted him. It was his way of
sending a message that he was the one with real power. His money, his rules. How much he
spent to settle the case, if he decided to settle, would be completely up to him and not the ivy
league penguins sitting around the table.
Pettigrew was predictably appalled. In his long career, he’d come across a few bombastic
clients hell-bent on hijacking the mediation, but nothing like Ben Bowman.
“This is a fucking witch hunt,” Bowman growled, pointing a menacing finger at Pierce from
across the room. “You should be disbarred. The dead people whose blood you claim I bought
from HemaMex were Mexican peasants, not Americans. That blood helped keep Americans
alive. Otherwise, thousands more hard-working people in this US of A would have died. All I
asked HemaMex to do was to run standard tests on all the blood, like blood type and screening
for the Rh antigen. I never asked them to kill people.”
Pierce almost smiled. His gaze was steady, though behind his eyes he was sliding the puzzle
pieces into place. He had gotten his measure of the man. He was mean, conniving, and had no
conscience. Traits that Pierce planned to expose at trial. Pierce continued to make mental notes
of what buttons he could push to provoke Bowman to spiral out of control. The more Bowman
criticized and attacked, the more Pierce liked what he saw - an extremely volatile witness that
Dunn couldn’t control.
Dunn’s eyes closed slowly. Then they opened again, and he looked at his client with great
disappointment. “You’ve said enough, Ben,” he growled in a rare display of anger.
The mediator tried in vain to maintain some semblance of order and move the settlement
negotiations along. To Bowman, his entire narrative was nothing but babble. The sole purpose of the mediation, as far as he was concerned, was to send a message that it would be years before
Pierce saw a penny. Pettigrew finally gave up, turned to Dunn, and asked sarcastically if he had
anything to add to Mr. Bowman’s colorful tirade.
It was 11:20 a.m. Dunn frowned, clearly annoyed by his client’s transgressions. “We’d like
to take a break.”
The mediator seemed particularly edgy. “We could all benefit from a long lunch. Let’s
reconvene at one.”
* * *
Ninety-five minutes later, Ben Bowman and his legal entourage returned. Bowman took his
seat quietly as though he had been slapped across the face. Pettigrew made a couple of opening
remarks about maintaining civility in the afternoon session while looking directly at Bowman. “I
expect you to behave yourself. If you can’t or won’t, I’m going to terminate this mediation.” The
outrage was clear in his voice.
Collins assured the mediator that Mr. Bowman and the rest of the Lighthouse team would
proceed in good faith.
Pettigrew raised one of his eyebrows, showing what he thought of Collins’ assurance, and
gestured towards Dunn. “Mr. Dunn. The floor is yours.”
Dunn cleared his throat and took center stage. He started by insisting that his client was
innocent of any wrongdoing. He explained that the only thing the financial wires to HemaMex
represented was that Lighthouse paid its bills. Nothing more. Dunn didn’t dispute that
Lighthouse purchased blood from blood banks and supplied hospitals around the country. He
argued that during the pandemic, the blood shortage made the United States extremely
vulnerable and resulted in a wave of deaths.
“Lighthouse’s ability to pivot quickly towards additional sources when its trusted suppliers
could not meet the surging demand stemming from the Kayapo pandemic was both critical and
necessary for the nation’s healthcare workers to treat hospital patients.” Dunn insisted that
American lives were at stake.
“Lighthouse was responsible for saving American lives. We should be thanking Ben
Bowman, not persecuting him.” Dunn paused to underline the empathic statement and then
rattled off statistics of how many Americans were treated by the blood supplied by Lighthouse.
Pierce had gotten a glimpse of Dunn’s trial strategy. In the Midwest or in the deep South, like
Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, Georgia and parts of Florida, Dunn’s compelling narrative
might be able to convince a jury that the end justified the means and return a verdict for the
defendant. But this case was going to be tried in Miami, where seventy percent of the population
consisted of Cubans, Colombians, Puerto Ricans, and immigrants from the other Central and South American countries. Given Miami’s multilingual and multicultural makeup, it was likely
that most juries would look to make an example of an individual or company that preyed on
innocent Latinos. A possibility that Evan Dunn unfortunately could not ignore.
When Dunn was finished, Pierce’s eyes turned from serious to ice. “Mr. Bowman,” Pierce
addressed him directly. “I don’t plan on being here all afternoon, so I’m going to cut to the
chase. First of all, whether you realize it or not, you’re in a war you can’t win. That’s no
reflection on your lawyers. You have a great legal team. I have tremendous respect and
admiration for Mr. Dunn. But not even he can turn water into wine or perform miracles . . . and
that’s what it will take for you to win this case. It’s going to take a miracle.”
Bowman seethed but said nothing.
Pierce continued to talk in his smooth, even voice, diverting everyone’s attention away from
the volatile Bowman. “Here are the undisputed facts. 1) The Mexican cartels murdered
thousands of innocent people to harvest their blood; and 2) HemaMex is a front for the cartel.”
Dunn skeptically shook his head. “I object to your characterization that these facts are not in
dispute.”
“Evan,” Pierce snapped in a stern voice. “We’re not in court.There’s no one here to rule on
your objection. I have the floor. I’ll remind you that you made your argument without any
interruption from my side. I’d appreciate the same courtesy.”
The unprecedented rebuke immediately silenced Dunn, and he sat back in his chair.
Pierce nodded at Maggie, who distributed a set of pictures of the video footage captured by
Alex. Several pictures captured the migrants being marched by men carrying automatic weapons
into the HemaMex facility. Other pictures showed dead bodies loaded onto the trucks. There
were also pictures of the mass graves. The last picture showed the license plates of the trucks
photographed at HemaMex parked at the Lighthouse facility. “These pictures were taken by a
drone that our investigator flew over the HemaMex and Lighthouse buildings two weeks ago.”
Dunn couldn’t keep from frowning. “This may show that HemaMex engaged in questionable
acts. But there’s no proof Lighthouse had any knowledge.”
“Then why push so hard to be included in the legislation?”
Bowman’s eyes narrowed. “Why not? The pharmaceutical companies were pushing for it, so
why not jump on the bandwagon? Seemed like a prudent thing to do.” Bowman’s words were
suddenly short and dripping with sarcasm.
Pierce continued the ambush. “Except, when that didn’t work out, you negotiated an
Immunity Agreement with the Department of Justice.”
Dunn’s face twisted with anger. “That is a confidential document. The Judge will never let it
in.”
“There’s more than one way to cook an egg.” Pierce replied sardonically. He decided to give
Dunn a little peek at one of his cards and slid his witness list with an abbreviated summary of what each witness would testify to across the table towards him. “My revised witness list,” he
said. “I plan on adding a few more names by the end of the week.”
Dunn glanced at the list and saw the names of the Department of Justice lawyers that worked
on Lighthouse’s Immunity Agreement. The look on his face was one of deep thought. It
suddenly clicked. Pierce didn’t need to enter the Immunity Agreement into evidence. All he was
after was a confirmation from the DOJ lawyers that an agreement existed. He’d leave the rest to
the jury’s imagination.
“This is thin,” snapped Dunn, pretending not to be overly concerned. “An Immunity
Agreement doesn’t prove anything. There’s no evidence or testimony that even remotely
suggests that Lighthouse knew about HemaMex’s activities.”
With a nod, Pierce said, “Special Agent Nick Russo will testify that HemaMex’s ties to the
cartel were widely known.”
Dunn shook his head. “Still doesn’t prove that Lighthouse had actual knowledge.”
“We don’t have to prove Lighthouse knew, although we will. Conscious avoidance or willful
blindness is all we need to prove. I’m sure you’re familiar with the U.S. Supreme Court decision
in Global-Tech Appliances, Inc. v. SEB S.A. where the court imposed a responsibility on the
company to investigate questionable or suspicious circumstances . . . Most would agree that the
CNN reports of thousands of bodies in mass graves qualifies as suspicious circumstances.”
Maggie turned in her seat and gave Pierce a look that said he was revealing more than he
should. Pierce’s instincts told him he had arrived at the key moment in the mediation.
Turning to Bowman, he said, “The only remaining question is whether you’re smart enough
to settle and save your company.”
Dunn nodded at his client, and in a noticeably unenthusiastic tone asked Pierce, “What
number do you have in mind to settle the case?”
Pierce shared the number he had in mind for quite some time. “$500 million. Not one dollar
less is what it will take to settle this case.”
Bowman’s first reaction was suppressing a laugh. “You must be kidding.”
Dunn responded with a doubtful look.
“The offer is off the table once we start jury selection,” Pierce said with a detached calmness.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take advantage of my visit to New Orleans and treat
myself to a beignet. Café Du Monde is great, but for anyone interested, I found an absolutely
delightful spot just down the street from the Hotel Monteleone. Wonderful.” Pierce slowly
pushed his chair out and walked to the door.
“Gentlemen.” Pierce smiled and left the room. He was gone in an instant, with the door
closing behind him. The trap had been sprung; Bowman had been caught. He just didn’t know it.
Bowman exhaled an even long breath. “What the fuck just happened?” Bowman looked
bewildered and turned to Dunn. “Is he coming back”
Dunn shrugged and managed a feeble, “I don’t think he is.”
Pettigrew frowned and smiled at the same time.
Maggie stared unflinchingly at the group of pompous little bastards around the table in their
dark suits as they sat in stunned silence. Bowman stood and walked around the room rubbing his
hair, scratching his chin, and trying to clear his head. Finally, he gawked at Maggie. “I thought
this was supposed to be a settlement negotiation. He didn’t even bother to stick around for my
counteroffer.”
Maggie did her best to hide her contempt. “There’s where you’re mistaken. This was never a
negotiation,” she said, managing a smile. “We came to New Orleans to deliver our terms.
Nothing about the settlement terms is negotiable.”
Praise for the Book
The fast-paced plot, rich character development, and ethical dilemmas make this book
engaging. If you're looking for a thriller that intertwines law, science fiction, and social
commentary.
When Canaries Die is a novel you won't want to
miss. – Carol
Thompson - Readers's Favorite
When Canaries Die manages to achieve the difficult balance between a realistic portrayal of
the justice system and those who work in it and the kind of rip-roaring action-packed extralegal
shenanigans featured in the works of John Grisham.
– Erin Britton - Independent Book Review
Meet the Author
Luis Figueredo was born and raised in the Bronx, New York. He completed his undergraduate
degree in History from Brandeis University in Massachusetts and earned his law degree from
Harvard Law School. He is a partner in the Miami office of an international law firm. His first
novel, Dime, was published in 2020.
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