Ginger snaps, p.17
Ginger Snaps, page 17
Maggie reached over to grip his shaking shoulder.
We hadn’t gotten anywhere, from my point of view.
“Doug, I know how tough this is for you, but we don’t have much
time here. We need to decide how to deal with what’s happened—right
now. listen to me. We don’t have to agree to their deal today. I’ll keep
your agreement in my pocket. In fact, I’ve made it clear to them I can’t
agree to anything until I spoken with you. Since this is an unofficial visit
we still have some time. You need to answer my questions now.”
Doug removed his hands from his eyes, gave a sigh and nodded, but
the door swung open and in walked the warden. He wasn’t smiling.
“A word, Mr. Patterson.”
I stepped outside and waited.
He began. “I just received a call from the Director of the Bureau of
Prisons ordering me to terminate this interview immediately. Seems
to me nothing much is a secret in little Rock. Whoever’s in charge
down there pulled enough strings to get the director of prisons out
of a meeting with the attorney general. I don’t know who jerked her
chain, but my instructions are clear.”
I didn’t know what to think. Dub wouldn’t have that kind of pull,
would he? And even if he did, how did he know we were here? Who
else knew we were in oklahoma? Whatever, it was clear I’d lost my
chance to get any answers from Doug. I thanked the Warden, but he
wasn’t through.
“I’m going to catch hell for letting you in here, but I can handle it. I
was also told to hold you here until the DeA agents arrived. I told the
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director I didn’t have that authority, and she told me to do it anyway.
Too bad—as it turns out, you were already gone before I could detain
you.” His smile brightened the room.
“So, don’t let any grass grow under your feet. A bunch of DeA
agents are on their way here right now to arrest you.”
I went back into the room and said. “Doug, it’s time for us to leave.
In fact, we’ve got to hightail it out of here. You were right, the Feds are
on their way. Much as I’d like to tell everyone to go jump in the lake,
I don’t imagine I can do you any good from a jail cell. I’ll be back. Be
careful, and don’t give up. I’ve got a plan.”
His look told me he thought I was nuts, but he was ready to clutch
at straws.
“A plan?” He smiled. “Angie told me you were a little crazy.”
I returned the smile and heard Maggie say, “Crazy like a fox.”
“Be careful. And the answer to all your questions is the research.
They don’t care about the pot or my house. It’s my research they want,
and, yes, they’ll kill for it.”
“Maggie, call the pilot and tell him we’ll be there in ten minutes and
to get us in the air as soon as possible.” Maggie was already punching
his number.
Clovis was waiting for us at the car. “What’s up? Why the rush?”
“We’ve got a problem. We’ve got lots of problems, but one is more
pressing than the others.” I told him what the warden had said, and I
watched his face turn stone cold. I’d seen Clovis angry before, but I’d
never seen this look—scared the shit out of me.
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27
D
As we taxied down the runway, I saw several black sedans pull into
the parking lot. Men in dark suits and sunglasses streamed out of the
cars. Breathing a sigh of relief as we took off, I told the pilot to notify
the guys at Hodges Air that various officers of the law were likely to be
waiting when we arrived, and asked him to call a friend.
I explained to Maggie and Clovis that I was sure to be arrested.
Maggie took a deep breath, but kept her usual composure. Clenching
and unclenching his fists, Clovis was a silent image of fury. This I
didn’t need.
“Clovis, I can see how angry you are. I know you’re second-guessing
yourself, but I need you to let it go. Remember how on the football
field the other team tried to get in your head? Don’t let these guys get
to you. The fact is they’ve tipped their hand. Now we know we’ve got
a traitor in our midst. We have to figure out how to use what we know,
how to use the traitor. okay? Are you with me?”
“Why aren’t you madder than hell?” Clovis barked. “Your meeting
with Doug got cut short. every move you’ve made has been thwarted.
Dub’s trumped up some charge against you, and this mole surely had
something to do with Micki. I’ll wring his neck when I find him.”
“No, you won’t. Come on, Clovis, get a grip. We’ve been handed a
gift. let’s figure out who it is and use that knowledge to our advantage.”
“Any thoughts on who it might be?” Maggie asked.
“Yeah, I think I know who, but if I told either of you, you’d be awk-
ward around that person and tip him off. I’d rather you come to your
own conclusions. let’s not focus on the traitor. let’s talk about what
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you need to do while I’m cooling my heels in jail. Maggie, I need you
to call Beth right away, make sure she knows I’m all right.”
“of course, but don’t you need a lawyer?”
“Already have one. If the pilot was able to reach her, I bet she’ll be
there when we land. Micki’s not available, so I’ve got the next best
thing.”
As yet unrelenting, Clovis demanded, “Who?”
Maggie answered for me with a smile, “Janis Harold.”
Clovis whistled and finally relaxed. “Dub’s gonna wish he’d left
your ass alone.”
“That’s the plan.” I grinned.
I’d met Janis Harold during the Cole case. She had acted as both
the senator and Woody’s personal attorney, and had represented all of
the senator’s political campaigns. Janis was what my stepfather would
have called a “little bit of a thing,” not quite five feet tall. Her lack of
height dominated any initial impression but, as they say, dynamite
comes in small packages.
Sure enough, as we taxied toward Hodges Air, I saw her standing in
front of the deputy marshals waiting for the plane.
As soon as we reached the bottom of the passenger stairs, a man
wearing dark glasses identified himself as a Deputy U.S. Marshal and
said politely, “Mr. Patterson, please come with me.” He was fingering
the pair of handcuffs attached to his belt, which wasn’t so polite.
“on what charges?” Janis was in his face except for the two feet that
separated them in height.
“Ma’am, I’m under orders to take Mr. Patterson into custody. Please
don’t interfere.”
“I’m Mr. Patterson’s attorney. I want to know on what charges my
client is being detained and by whose authority.”
“Ma’am, you’ll have to take that up with Mr. Blanchard. I’m here to
detain Mr. Patterson until he appears before a magistrate.” Janis sput-
tered angrily. Since I’d known this was going to happen, I interrupted.
“Deputy, I’ll come with you, but can you give me a minute with my
counsel? If not, she’s likely to have you in front of a judge in a matter
of minutes. I promise I’ll cooperate. Simply let me talk to her in plain
view for a minute.”
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w e b b h u b b e l l
He knew he shouldn’t agree, but he was already more afraid of
Janis than Dub, so he nodded. “Well, just for a minute.”
I pulled Janis aside. “Thanks for being here, Janis. Maggie will tell
you what’s going on. If I know Dub, he’ll try to get me before Judge
Houston, railing that I’ve conspired to get around the Judge’s orders.
Maggie has the transcript of the earlier hearing. Don’t try to get me
out of jail until right before tomorrow’s hearing.”
“I can have you in front of a magistrate before tomorrow.”
“I know, but I think we can use Dub’s arrogance to our advantage.
I’ll be okay overnight. Shoot, I’ll actually have some time to think. You
and Maggie have a lot to do. We’ll talk again before the hearing.” Janis
looked a little flustered, but adjusted quickly.
We walked back to the deputy, and I extended my arms. He seemed
a little embarrassed, but quickly took the cuffs from his belt and
applied them to my wrists. My clients were right. They did pinch. Just
then a cameraman hopped out from behind the marshal’s Suburban
and started shooting. Janis was furious.
“You bastards! Who notified the press? Tell that asshole of a U.S.
Attorney, he better wear a cup. He’s going to need one tomorrow.”
I had a hard time not laughing, as did the deputy. The reporter with
the cameraman was taking notes, but I knew the press wouldn’t print
Janis’ tirade. I saw Clovis put his arm around Maggie, who looked a
little lost. Going to jail was a new experience for both of us.
The reality of my circumstances began to sink in. Where were they
going to keep me over night? Who else would be in my cell? A sobering
thought.
The deputy spoke. “As I believe you already know, we don’t have any
overnight accommodations except at a safe house, and Mr. Blanchard
specifically ordered us not to take you there. You’re to be treated like
any other prisoner. You’ll spend the night at the county jail. We’ll pick
you up in the morning and deliver you to a magistrate.”
I tried to keep my demeanor relaxed and unconcerned as the
deputy put his hand on top of my head and shoved me down into his
patrol car, but it wasn’t easy. I sure couldn’t smile.
I’d been to the county jail before when I was defending Woody, but
had never made it inside a cell. The cuffs were removed, and for the
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second time that day I was strip-searched. The guards took my clothes
and gave me an orange jumpsuit and cloth shoes, both too small, all the
while talking about plans for their day off. I was just part of a day’s work.
When I was dressed, they led me to a holding cell where I was supposed
to fill out various forms, including a questionnaire about my mental
state. I wondered what happened to the guys who couldn’t read.
The stubby little pencil needed sharpening—it didn’t help that
my hand shook. I felt the presence of someone outside the cell and
looked up to the smiling face of Sam Pagano.
“You shouldn’t wear orange—smacks of the Texas longhorns.”
“I’m not too enamored with it myself. Got an alternative?”
He laughed. “Maggie called to tell me what happened. You know
there’s not much I can do—Dub’s running this show. But I’ve talked
to Sheriff Barnes. They’re going to segregate you from the other
inmates. You’ll be in the suicide watch cell. It’s not comfortable, but
you’ll be safe. That’s all I can do.”
“Thanks. I figured Dub would put me in with a serial killer.” Not
funny. My words sounded hollow, even to me.
“How’s Micki?” I asked, ready to talk about anything else.
“She’s pretty weak, been through hell and back, but at least she’s
conscious. We decided not to tell her you’re in jail. She’d want to deal
with Dub personally. Better let Janis have that honor.” His tone was
light enough, but his face wasn’t.
“Whatever she needs, make sure she gets it, okay?” Things kept get-
ting worse.
“Don’t worry about that. I think you need to worry a little bit about
yourself.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“I’m not so sure. Dub’s had a hard-on for you from day one, and
now you’re interfering with his baby. Word has it he wants you arrested
for aiding and abetting a terrorist. He’s a jerk, but he’s still the U.S.
attorney. Fortunately, so far no one has taken him seriously. A night in
here is hardly a walk in the park, but it looks to me like he wants you
out of his way for good.”
I thought about my response. “Sam, when I get out of here, it’s time
for a private chat. okay?”
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w e b b h u b b e l l
“let’s see you through the night first. The suicide cell is hardly the
Armitage.”
He was right. First, I was ordered to shower and wash my hair with
lice shampoo. Then I was strip-searched again and led to a single cell,
eight feet by eight feet. The bed was a solid concrete block with a
paper-thin plastic mattress. No pillow, nothing to read, not even any
toilet paper unless I asked. Dinner consisted of water, a slice of Wonder
Bread, and something that resembled noodles with brown gravy. I had
to return my plastic spoon after the meal. My friend Woody had been
in solitary, but he’d spared me any details. This exposure to his reality
made me wish I’d been more sympathetic.
I tried to sleep, and occasionally exhaustion allowed me to nod off
for a few minutes. No dreams, no visions of beautiful women—mostly
I just lay there. My attempts at rational thought and strategy were con-
stantly interrupted by sounds of screaming and yelling coming from
nearby overcrowded cells. How anyone slept in here was beyond me.
The loudspeaker blared a wake-up call at five-thirty, and pretty soon
a guard came to lead me to a tepid shower, followed by another strip
search more intrusive than I thought possible or legal, and a fresh
orange jumpsuit still smaller than the first. Breakfast arrived, and the
guard watched through the bars as I forced down oatmeal and soggy
toast. Before long his cell phone rang, and he hooked me up to hand-
cuffs, leg chains, and a chain belt that connected both. I was shoved
into the back seat of a waiting Suburban, where I could see the deputy
marshal in charge staring at me in the rear view mirror.
“I’m sorry about all the hardware, Mr. Patterson, but orders are
orders. We’ll have you at the courthouse soon enough. I got to warn
you though; the press is there in droves. They’re all dyin’ to get a pic-
ture of you in irons.”
“That’s okay. You’re doing your job.” I said.
And it was time I started doing mine.
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tHuRSdAy
April 24, 2014
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28
D
Next came the “perp walk,” another new experience for me. The
press surrounded the car—Dub’s work, no doubt. The Deputy Mar-
shals helped me out of the car and with each of them holding an arm.
I slowly waddled toward the courthouse door, each step restricted by
the length of the leg chain and the discomfort of metal digging into
my ankles. I tried to look directly into the cameras, but it was tough—
not because of any sense of shame, but because they were shoved right
into my face. I was constantly bopped on the head by somebody’s
microphone as the reporters shouted inane questions.
Finally we were inside the building, and I shuffled my way into
the elevator. We ended up in a third-floor conference room near the
courtroom. The deputy unlocked the irons and cuffs and offered me
a paper cup of water. Janis and Maggie appeared at the door almost
immediately, relief at my safety obvious on their faces. Maggie gave
me a quick hug and said, “Don’t worry, I’ve spoken with Beth. She . . ."
Janis interrupted, “The deputy refused to let us give you fresh
clothes. I’ve stashed them in a closet down the hall and, as soon as the
judge’s clerk gets here, I’ll see if I can’t get you out of those orange
rags.”
Straight from the prosecutor’s playbook. Dub would be tickled pink
if the lice shampoo turned my hair orange—happens as often as not.
“That’s okay. Any idea what the charges are?”
“Not a clue. The only thing I know for sure is Dub insisted on
Judge Houston’s presence. He claimed a magistrate couldn’t hear the
charges.”
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w e b b h u b b e l l
I told her again to be ready for some kind of obstruction charge.
We talked strategy for about thirty minutes, well aware that we were
We hadn’t gotten anywhere, from my point of view.
“Doug, I know how tough this is for you, but we don’t have much
time here. We need to decide how to deal with what’s happened—right
now. listen to me. We don’t have to agree to their deal today. I’ll keep
your agreement in my pocket. In fact, I’ve made it clear to them I can’t
agree to anything until I spoken with you. Since this is an unofficial visit
we still have some time. You need to answer my questions now.”
Doug removed his hands from his eyes, gave a sigh and nodded, but
the door swung open and in walked the warden. He wasn’t smiling.
“A word, Mr. Patterson.”
I stepped outside and waited.
He began. “I just received a call from the Director of the Bureau of
Prisons ordering me to terminate this interview immediately. Seems
to me nothing much is a secret in little Rock. Whoever’s in charge
down there pulled enough strings to get the director of prisons out
of a meeting with the attorney general. I don’t know who jerked her
chain, but my instructions are clear.”
I didn’t know what to think. Dub wouldn’t have that kind of pull,
would he? And even if he did, how did he know we were here? Who
else knew we were in oklahoma? Whatever, it was clear I’d lost my
chance to get any answers from Doug. I thanked the Warden, but he
wasn’t through.
“I’m going to catch hell for letting you in here, but I can handle it. I
was also told to hold you here until the DeA agents arrived. I told the
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director I didn’t have that authority, and she told me to do it anyway.
Too bad—as it turns out, you were already gone before I could detain
you.” His smile brightened the room.
“So, don’t let any grass grow under your feet. A bunch of DeA
agents are on their way here right now to arrest you.”
I went back into the room and said. “Doug, it’s time for us to leave.
In fact, we’ve got to hightail it out of here. You were right, the Feds are
on their way. Much as I’d like to tell everyone to go jump in the lake,
I don’t imagine I can do you any good from a jail cell. I’ll be back. Be
careful, and don’t give up. I’ve got a plan.”
His look told me he thought I was nuts, but he was ready to clutch
at straws.
“A plan?” He smiled. “Angie told me you were a little crazy.”
I returned the smile and heard Maggie say, “Crazy like a fox.”
“Be careful. And the answer to all your questions is the research.
They don’t care about the pot or my house. It’s my research they want,
and, yes, they’ll kill for it.”
“Maggie, call the pilot and tell him we’ll be there in ten minutes and
to get us in the air as soon as possible.” Maggie was already punching
his number.
Clovis was waiting for us at the car. “What’s up? Why the rush?”
“We’ve got a problem. We’ve got lots of problems, but one is more
pressing than the others.” I told him what the warden had said, and I
watched his face turn stone cold. I’d seen Clovis angry before, but I’d
never seen this look—scared the shit out of me.
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27
D
As we taxied down the runway, I saw several black sedans pull into
the parking lot. Men in dark suits and sunglasses streamed out of the
cars. Breathing a sigh of relief as we took off, I told the pilot to notify
the guys at Hodges Air that various officers of the law were likely to be
waiting when we arrived, and asked him to call a friend.
I explained to Maggie and Clovis that I was sure to be arrested.
Maggie took a deep breath, but kept her usual composure. Clenching
and unclenching his fists, Clovis was a silent image of fury. This I
didn’t need.
“Clovis, I can see how angry you are. I know you’re second-guessing
yourself, but I need you to let it go. Remember how on the football
field the other team tried to get in your head? Don’t let these guys get
to you. The fact is they’ve tipped their hand. Now we know we’ve got
a traitor in our midst. We have to figure out how to use what we know,
how to use the traitor. okay? Are you with me?”
“Why aren’t you madder than hell?” Clovis barked. “Your meeting
with Doug got cut short. every move you’ve made has been thwarted.
Dub’s trumped up some charge against you, and this mole surely had
something to do with Micki. I’ll wring his neck when I find him.”
“No, you won’t. Come on, Clovis, get a grip. We’ve been handed a
gift. let’s figure out who it is and use that knowledge to our advantage.”
“Any thoughts on who it might be?” Maggie asked.
“Yeah, I think I know who, but if I told either of you, you’d be awk-
ward around that person and tip him off. I’d rather you come to your
own conclusions. let’s not focus on the traitor. let’s talk about what
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you need to do while I’m cooling my heels in jail. Maggie, I need you
to call Beth right away, make sure she knows I’m all right.”
“of course, but don’t you need a lawyer?”
“Already have one. If the pilot was able to reach her, I bet she’ll be
there when we land. Micki’s not available, so I’ve got the next best
thing.”
As yet unrelenting, Clovis demanded, “Who?”
Maggie answered for me with a smile, “Janis Harold.”
Clovis whistled and finally relaxed. “Dub’s gonna wish he’d left
your ass alone.”
“That’s the plan.” I grinned.
I’d met Janis Harold during the Cole case. She had acted as both
the senator and Woody’s personal attorney, and had represented all of
the senator’s political campaigns. Janis was what my stepfather would
have called a “little bit of a thing,” not quite five feet tall. Her lack of
height dominated any initial impression but, as they say, dynamite
comes in small packages.
Sure enough, as we taxied toward Hodges Air, I saw her standing in
front of the deputy marshals waiting for the plane.
As soon as we reached the bottom of the passenger stairs, a man
wearing dark glasses identified himself as a Deputy U.S. Marshal and
said politely, “Mr. Patterson, please come with me.” He was fingering
the pair of handcuffs attached to his belt, which wasn’t so polite.
“on what charges?” Janis was in his face except for the two feet that
separated them in height.
“Ma’am, I’m under orders to take Mr. Patterson into custody. Please
don’t interfere.”
“I’m Mr. Patterson’s attorney. I want to know on what charges my
client is being detained and by whose authority.”
“Ma’am, you’ll have to take that up with Mr. Blanchard. I’m here to
detain Mr. Patterson until he appears before a magistrate.” Janis sput-
tered angrily. Since I’d known this was going to happen, I interrupted.
“Deputy, I’ll come with you, but can you give me a minute with my
counsel? If not, she’s likely to have you in front of a judge in a matter
of minutes. I promise I’ll cooperate. Simply let me talk to her in plain
view for a minute.”
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w e b b h u b b e l l
He knew he shouldn’t agree, but he was already more afraid of
Janis than Dub, so he nodded. “Well, just for a minute.”
I pulled Janis aside. “Thanks for being here, Janis. Maggie will tell
you what’s going on. If I know Dub, he’ll try to get me before Judge
Houston, railing that I’ve conspired to get around the Judge’s orders.
Maggie has the transcript of the earlier hearing. Don’t try to get me
out of jail until right before tomorrow’s hearing.”
“I can have you in front of a magistrate before tomorrow.”
“I know, but I think we can use Dub’s arrogance to our advantage.
I’ll be okay overnight. Shoot, I’ll actually have some time to think. You
and Maggie have a lot to do. We’ll talk again before the hearing.” Janis
looked a little flustered, but adjusted quickly.
We walked back to the deputy, and I extended my arms. He seemed
a little embarrassed, but quickly took the cuffs from his belt and
applied them to my wrists. My clients were right. They did pinch. Just
then a cameraman hopped out from behind the marshal’s Suburban
and started shooting. Janis was furious.
“You bastards! Who notified the press? Tell that asshole of a U.S.
Attorney, he better wear a cup. He’s going to need one tomorrow.”
I had a hard time not laughing, as did the deputy. The reporter with
the cameraman was taking notes, but I knew the press wouldn’t print
Janis’ tirade. I saw Clovis put his arm around Maggie, who looked a
little lost. Going to jail was a new experience for both of us.
The reality of my circumstances began to sink in. Where were they
going to keep me over night? Who else would be in my cell? A sobering
thought.
The deputy spoke. “As I believe you already know, we don’t have any
overnight accommodations except at a safe house, and Mr. Blanchard
specifically ordered us not to take you there. You’re to be treated like
any other prisoner. You’ll spend the night at the county jail. We’ll pick
you up in the morning and deliver you to a magistrate.”
I tried to keep my demeanor relaxed and unconcerned as the
deputy put his hand on top of my head and shoved me down into his
patrol car, but it wasn’t easy. I sure couldn’t smile.
I’d been to the county jail before when I was defending Woody, but
had never made it inside a cell. The cuffs were removed, and for the
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149
second time that day I was strip-searched. The guards took my clothes
and gave me an orange jumpsuit and cloth shoes, both too small, all the
while talking about plans for their day off. I was just part of a day’s work.
When I was dressed, they led me to a holding cell where I was supposed
to fill out various forms, including a questionnaire about my mental
state. I wondered what happened to the guys who couldn’t read.
The stubby little pencil needed sharpening—it didn’t help that
my hand shook. I felt the presence of someone outside the cell and
looked up to the smiling face of Sam Pagano.
“You shouldn’t wear orange—smacks of the Texas longhorns.”
“I’m not too enamored with it myself. Got an alternative?”
He laughed. “Maggie called to tell me what happened. You know
there’s not much I can do—Dub’s running this show. But I’ve talked
to Sheriff Barnes. They’re going to segregate you from the other
inmates. You’ll be in the suicide watch cell. It’s not comfortable, but
you’ll be safe. That’s all I can do.”
“Thanks. I figured Dub would put me in with a serial killer.” Not
funny. My words sounded hollow, even to me.
“How’s Micki?” I asked, ready to talk about anything else.
“She’s pretty weak, been through hell and back, but at least she’s
conscious. We decided not to tell her you’re in jail. She’d want to deal
with Dub personally. Better let Janis have that honor.” His tone was
light enough, but his face wasn’t.
“Whatever she needs, make sure she gets it, okay?” Things kept get-
ting worse.
“Don’t worry about that. I think you need to worry a little bit about
yourself.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“I’m not so sure. Dub’s had a hard-on for you from day one, and
now you’re interfering with his baby. Word has it he wants you arrested
for aiding and abetting a terrorist. He’s a jerk, but he’s still the U.S.
attorney. Fortunately, so far no one has taken him seriously. A night in
here is hardly a walk in the park, but it looks to me like he wants you
out of his way for good.”
I thought about my response. “Sam, when I get out of here, it’s time
for a private chat. okay?”
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“let’s see you through the night first. The suicide cell is hardly the
Armitage.”
He was right. First, I was ordered to shower and wash my hair with
lice shampoo. Then I was strip-searched again and led to a single cell,
eight feet by eight feet. The bed was a solid concrete block with a
paper-thin plastic mattress. No pillow, nothing to read, not even any
toilet paper unless I asked. Dinner consisted of water, a slice of Wonder
Bread, and something that resembled noodles with brown gravy. I had
to return my plastic spoon after the meal. My friend Woody had been
in solitary, but he’d spared me any details. This exposure to his reality
made me wish I’d been more sympathetic.
I tried to sleep, and occasionally exhaustion allowed me to nod off
for a few minutes. No dreams, no visions of beautiful women—mostly
I just lay there. My attempts at rational thought and strategy were con-
stantly interrupted by sounds of screaming and yelling coming from
nearby overcrowded cells. How anyone slept in here was beyond me.
The loudspeaker blared a wake-up call at five-thirty, and pretty soon
a guard came to lead me to a tepid shower, followed by another strip
search more intrusive than I thought possible or legal, and a fresh
orange jumpsuit still smaller than the first. Breakfast arrived, and the
guard watched through the bars as I forced down oatmeal and soggy
toast. Before long his cell phone rang, and he hooked me up to hand-
cuffs, leg chains, and a chain belt that connected both. I was shoved
into the back seat of a waiting Suburban, where I could see the deputy
marshal in charge staring at me in the rear view mirror.
“I’m sorry about all the hardware, Mr. Patterson, but orders are
orders. We’ll have you at the courthouse soon enough. I got to warn
you though; the press is there in droves. They’re all dyin’ to get a pic-
ture of you in irons.”
“That’s okay. You’re doing your job.” I said.
And it was time I started doing mine.
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tHuRSdAy
April 24, 2014
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28
D
Next came the “perp walk,” another new experience for me. The
press surrounded the car—Dub’s work, no doubt. The Deputy Mar-
shals helped me out of the car and with each of them holding an arm.
I slowly waddled toward the courthouse door, each step restricted by
the length of the leg chain and the discomfort of metal digging into
my ankles. I tried to look directly into the cameras, but it was tough—
not because of any sense of shame, but because they were shoved right
into my face. I was constantly bopped on the head by somebody’s
microphone as the reporters shouted inane questions.
Finally we were inside the building, and I shuffled my way into
the elevator. We ended up in a third-floor conference room near the
courtroom. The deputy unlocked the irons and cuffs and offered me
a paper cup of water. Janis and Maggie appeared at the door almost
immediately, relief at my safety obvious on their faces. Maggie gave
me a quick hug and said, “Don’t worry, I’ve spoken with Beth. She . . ."
Janis interrupted, “The deputy refused to let us give you fresh
clothes. I’ve stashed them in a closet down the hall and, as soon as the
judge’s clerk gets here, I’ll see if I can’t get you out of those orange
rags.”
Straight from the prosecutor’s playbook. Dub would be tickled pink
if the lice shampoo turned my hair orange—happens as often as not.
“That’s okay. Any idea what the charges are?”
“Not a clue. The only thing I know for sure is Dub insisted on
Judge Houston’s presence. He claimed a magistrate couldn’t hear the
charges.”
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w e b b h u b b e l l
I told her again to be ready for some kind of obstruction charge.
We talked strategy for about thirty minutes, well aware that we were
