Chapter 9 - The Trial
The court-martial of Commander Peter Vale began in a military courtroom at Naval Base San Diego in the spring of the following year.
It lasted fourteen days.
It was presided over by a military judge named Captain Helena Vasquez. It was prosecuted by a judge advocate named Lieutenant Commander Aisha Patel. It was defended by a civilian attorney from San Diego named Robert Kessler.
The prosecution called twenty-three witnesses.
The first was Special Agent Diane Reyes. She testified for six hours. She walked the court through the investigation. She walked them through the nameplate and the lab report and the wreck. She walked them through the PELAGIC program and the USS Anzio and the night of October 14, 2003. She walked them through the deck log that Vale had destroyed and the deck log that Vale had written in its place. She walked them through sixteen years of lies.
The second was Kevin Brennan. He testified for two hours. He described the night of the sinking. He described the water coming through the compartment. He described the chief boatswain's mate who had pulled him out of his rack and handed him up the ladder. He described the chief boatswain's mate who had said, "Hold on to the ladder, son, I have to go back down." He described the chief boatswain's mate who had not come back up. He described the sixteen years of silence. He described the son whose name was Thomas.
He was cross-examined for forty-five minutes by Robert Kessler. Kessler tried to make him look like a man whose memory had been distorted by trauma. Kessler tried to make him look like a man whose recollections were unreliable. Kessler tried to make him look like a man who was remembering things that had not happened.
Brennan did not take the bait.
"Mr. Kessler," he said, "I have been remembering the same thing for sixteen years. Every night. In my sleep. When I wake up. When I close my eyes. When I am at work. When I am with my wife. When I am with my son. I have been remembering the man who pulled me out of my rack. And I have been remembering the man who went back down the ladder. I have been remembering the exact words he said to me. I have been remembering his voice. I have been remembering his face. I have been remembering him for sixteen years. And I am not going to stop remembering him now. Not because a civilian attorney told me I should. Not because the Navy told me I should. Not because a single person in this entire courtroom told me I should. I am going to remember him for the rest of my life. And I am going to tell my son about him. And my son is going to tell his son. And the men and women of this Navy are going to know that Chief Boatswain's Mate Thomas Hale went back down a ladder twice to save the men in his charge."
The courtroom was silent.
"No further questions," Kessler said.
The third witness was Morgan Hale.
She testified for three hours. She described the dock. She described the dive bag. She described the nameplate. She described the moment when Commander Vale had upended her bag and the plate had clattered across the deck. She described the moment when she had recognized the initials.
She described the moment when she had said, "Those are the initials of my father."
She described the moment when Vale had arrested her.
She described the moment when Special Agent Reyes had said, "This wasn't listed in the official inventory."
She described the moment when she had said, "Then what wreck did we really recover?"
She was cross-examined for two hours by Robert Kessler. Kessler tried to make her look like a daughter who had been driven by grief to see things that were not there. Kessler tried to make her look like a diver who had been careless. Kessler tried to make her look like a sailor who had been insubordinate.
Morgan did not take the bait.
"Chief Hale," Kessler said, "is it not true that you had been assigned to this salvage detachment for eleven years?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is it not true that you had been diving on Navy wrecks for sixteen years?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is it not true that you had, on more than one occasion, questioned the salvage records of your detachment?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is it not true that you had been counseled about your attitude?"
"I had been counseled about my tone, sir. Not my facts."
"Is it not true that you had submitted formal complaints to your chain of command about the salvage records?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is it not true that you had been told, on more than one occasion, that if you continued to submit such complaints, you would be transferred?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you continued to submit them anyway?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
Morgan looked at him.
"Because, sir," she said, "I am a chief petty officer in the United States Navy. I have been a diver for fourteen years. And a chief petty officer's job is to make sure that the Navy is telling the truth. About its ships. About its records. About its wrecks. About the men who served on them. And when a chief petty officer finds out that the Navy is not telling the truth, the chief petty officer has one job. And the job is to tell the truth anyway. So I told the truth. And I am going to keep telling the truth. Not because I want to. Because I have to. Because my father went back down the ladder. Because he died in that compartment. Because the Navy lied to my mother for sixteen years. Because the Navy lied to me for sixteen years. Because the Navy lied to the man who was pulled out of his rack. Because the Navy lied to him and told him that my father had been recovered. Because the Navy lied to him and told him that my father was in a hospital in the United States. Because the Navy has been lying about the USS Anzio since before I was born. And somebody has to stop it. And that somebody — sir — is me."
The courtroom was silent.
"No further questions," Kessler said.
The fourth witness was the captain.
The captain whose name is classified. The captain who ordered the ship to a position outside her authorized operating area. The captain who had been rescued. The captain who had been promoted. The captain who had retired at the rank of rear admiral in 2014. The captain who had been subpoenaed. The captain who had been granted immunity in exchange for his testimony.
The captain's testimony was classified. His name was classified. His role in the sinking was classified. The courtroom was cleared for his testimony. The jury was shown a photograph of the man. The photograph showed a man in a civilian suit with white hair and a thin face and a smile that did not reach his eyes.
The captain testified, in a closed session, that he had ordered the USS Anzio to the unauthorized position. That he had known the position was outside the ship's authorized operating area. That he had done so because he had "believed" that the ship could not be detected. That he had been wrong. That the ship had been detected. That there had been a confrontation. That there had been a torpedo. That the ship had sunk. That six sailors had died. That he had been rescued. That he had ordered Vale to destroy the deck log. That he had ordered Vale to write a new log. That he had ordered Vale to keep his mouth shut. That he had been promoted twice. That he had retired as a rear admiral. That he had lived the last sixteen years of his life in a house in Florida with a garden and a boat and a wife and a dog.
The captain's testimony lasted four hours. He was not cross-examined. He was not cross-examined because the government had agreed to the immunity in exchange for his testimony. He was not cross-examined because the government had decided that his testimony was too valuable to risk. He was not cross-examined because the government had decided that the life of a man like the captain was worth less than the truth.
The captain walked out of the courtroom through a side door. He did not look at Morgan. He did not look at Brennan. He did not look at the families of the men who had died aboard the USS Anzio. He walked out of the courtroom, and the door closed behind him, and the courtroom sat in silence for a long moment before the judge called the next witness.
The fifth witness was Commander Peter Vale.
He testified for two hours. He denied everything. He said that he had not known that the wreck was the USS Anzio. He said that he had believed what the tasking order had said. He said that he had been ordered to sign the new log by the captain. He said that he had been ordered to keep his mouth shut. He said that he had been afraid.
He was cross-examined for ninety minutes by Lieutenant Commander Patel. She asked him about the deck log. She asked him about the new log. She asked him about the photograph of him on the fantail of the USS Anzio in 2004. She asked him about the smile on his face. She asked him about the men who had died. She asked him about the families who had been lied to. She asked him about the nineteen-year-old seaman whose name was Kevin Brennan. She asked him about the eighteen-year-old seaman who was alive today because a chief boatswain's mate had gone back down the ladder twice.
Vale did not answer.
He sat in the witness chair and he looked at the table and he did not answer.
The judge looked at him.
"Commander Vale," she said, "you will answer the question."
Vale did not answer.
"Commander Vale," the judge said, "you are directed to answer the question."
Vale did not answer.
"Commander Vale," the judge said, "if you do not answer the question, I will hold you in contempt of court."
Vale looked up.
He looked at the judge.
He looked at the jury.
He looked at Morgan.
He looked at Brennan.
And then he said, in a voice that was barely above a whisper:
"I do not have an answer. I did not have an answer sixteen years ago. I did not have an answer when I signed the new log. I did not have an answer when I was promoted. I did not have an answer when I was assigned to the salvage detachment. I did not have an answer when I was diving on the wreck of the ship that I had signed the deck log for. I do not have an answer now. I have never had an answer. I have only ever had a career. And I have only ever had a secret. And I have only ever had the certainty that if I kept the secret, my career would continue. And if I broke the secret, my career would end. And I did not break the secret. And I did not break the secret for sixteen years. And I am sorry. I am sorry for the men who died. I am sorry for their families. I am sorry for the seaman who was pulled out of his rack. I am sorry for the daughter who joined the Navy to find out what happened to her father. I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry."
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The courtroom was silent.
"No further questions," Patel said.
