Chapter 11: The Witness

“Ms. DeJesus, I know this is incredibly difficult,” she began, her voice soft but firm. “I can see how scared you are. But I want you to know that everything we’re doing, from this moment on, is only about keeping you safe.”

I nodded from across the length of the kitchen table.

“We’re not here to accuse you. We’re not here to arrest you,” she clarified, her gaze steady. “Our focus today is entirely on getting you to a secure place—a place where no one can find you.” She let the weight of her words settle. “You understand the threats that were made. You understand why you’re being placed in protective custody.”

I nodded again, the motion small and slow.

“Because of the danger, and because you’re so exposed right now, we can’t afford to take any risks,” she explained, leaning slightly closer. “You are in an extremely vulnerable spot. Staying here isn’t safe anymore, and even transferring you right now—it puts you at risk.”

Her eyes met mine, searching for a clear acknowledgment. I stayed silent, unable to meet that look. She didn’t falter, though; she simply continued.

“We’re going to put some protective measures in place. Think of it like securing something really valuable—you don’t just leave it out; you put it into a special container so it can’t get lost or damaged. We need to make sure you don’t get separated until we get to the destination.”

“This means we will be using specialized containment equipment. It’ll be uncomfortable, but the moment it’s safe to take it off, we will.”

“Are we talking about handcuffs? And other things?” I asked, my voice tight. I tried hard to recall the details. “I was told I would have to be restrained during the trip.”

“That’s right,” the agent confirmed. “It’s way more comprehensive than just handcuffs. It includes leg cuffs, a waist chain, and other things. But remember, it’s all designed to keep you safe during the trip.”

She paused then, letting the significance of the equipment settle between us, watching my face for any flicker of protest—or maybe something else.

“We’re asking for your trust right now. We need you to agree to let us secure you until we’re in a safe situation and they can be removed. You need to understand that this is the absolute safest option,” she said, her hand resting lightly on the folder. “I’m authorized to put you in these restraints, but I’m really hoping we can agree to this, together?” She looked into my eyes. “Can you help us get you to safety?”

I nodded, though I didn’t really understand it all. But the thought of refusing felt pointless, like fighting a tide that was already too strong.

“Thank you,” she said, and her tone shifted slightly—it became more professional, more businesslike, but still deeply gentle. “That helps us immensely. We’ll get you into the restraints next. Agent Simon will be assisting with that.” She nodded and gestured toward the other agent beside her.

“This is going to be quick,” she then told me. “Just breathe deeply, okay?”

She nodded toward Agent Simon, who kept her eyes locked on mine.

“Agent Simon is trained in secure transport protocols,” Agent Nunes explained. “If you could please stand up.”

I stood, watching Agent Simon do the same. She reached for the bag she had brought and opened it. The only sound in the kitchen was the metallic clatter of the restraints being lifted and the sound of our breathing.

“Ms. DeJesus, this equipment is highly specialized,” she continued as Agent Simon began pulling out the pieces and placing them on the table, holding up a pair of handcuffs and working one side open. “As I explained, this is only a precaution, and every single piece Agent Simon is pulling out is designed for a specific purpose. She’s going to start with your hands, alright? I need you to hold out your hands.”

“Just relax your hands for me,” Agent Simon explained softly. “I’m going to guide your wrists together, and then I’m going to gently lock these in place. You’ll hear a clicking sound. They might feel cold, but it’s going to be fine. This is the first step to making sure you’re physically secured for the transport.”

I watched her as she gently fastened the first cuff, checking the fit, then she applied the other. She tightened them, until the metal was snug, cold, and completely closed around both my wrists.

“Next, we’re going to apply the housing,” Agent Nunes explained. “It fits right over the cuffs and allows us to secure your hands to your waist.”

I gave a quiet, distant nod, watching as Agent Simon slipped the protective box over the handcuffs, carefully angling my wrists so that the shell completely enclosed the metal.

I instinctively tried to flex my wrists, but the box kept them held in place. I couldn’t even move them enough to get a full stretch. The restraint wasn’t just cold metal—it was a physical erasure of my immediate freedom.

“They’re designed to keep your wrists in a stationary position,” Agent Nunes said, noticing me test the new restriction. “They prevent you from accessing the key holes. Again, these are being applied for your safety. You should just feel a gentle pressure. There shouldn’t be any pain.”

I shook my head, acknowledging the truth of it. No pain, but the pressure, and the immediate inability to bend my wrists or pull them apart even slightly.

Agent Simon had already lifted the chain from the table and was holding the ends.

“I’m going to wrap this gently around your waist,” she explained. “Just breathe deeply for me. I promise it’ll only feel like a secure, protective hug.”

She stepped forward and wrapped the chain around my waist, sliding it neatly under my suit jacket. It felt strangely ritualistic, like she’d done this exact dance a thousand times before. I looked down as she pulled the metal bar through a link in the chain, positioning it high on my waist and holding the end to keep it anchored.

“I’m going to add another chain,” she explained, reaching out with her other hand to lift a second piece from the table. “This one’s designed to limit movement.”

It wasn’t as long as the waist chain and had large rings on the ends. She looped one ring over the bar she was holding, then held it steady while gently guiding my wrists with her other hand.

The bar threaded through the protective housing and protruded on the other side. She then took the excess waist chain and pulled it through a hole in the bar, guiding it down the back of the box and threading it through a ring on the opposite side—the one that was connected to the waist chain.

“Like I said, it should still just feel like a hug,” she said softly. “Your wrists are going to rest in this position, anchored right up against your waist.”

She then reached for the padlock. “I’m going to lock this behind you,” she clarified. “It holds the excess waist chain in place and will stop you from pulling it back through the housing.”

I felt the clink as it locked into place, and she stepped back in front of me.

“Next, your lower legs,” Agent Nunes said. “We’ll need to secure those as well. Your ankles. This is the last part of this five-point system we’re putting you through.”

Agent Simon reached over to the table and lifted a pair of oversized ankle cuffs.

“I’m going to guide your ankles together, so I can put these on,” she said, stepping down beside me. I watched, and then she locked the cuffs in place, threading the chain down from the cuff’s ring.

“These are shorter than standard leg cuffs,” Agent Nunes remarked after they were locked.

“I’m double-locking them since you’ll be in them for a while,” Agent Simon then added. She pushed the end of the key into pin-sized holes on each cuff. Then, she stood up and double locked the handcuffs through the top of the housing.

“There,” Agent Nunes said. “You’re secured. Nothing can get loose. You’re properly restrained for transport.”

Agent Simon looked over at Agent Nunes, and they exchanged a quick, professional nod.

I looked down at the metal that now wrapped around my body. It was heavy. Not painfully so, but I could feel the undeniable weight of every cuff, every chain. I took a step, and it was a shocking, sudden realization of how little stride I now had.

“As I said, these are shorter than what we typically use,” Agent Nunes repeated, resting her hand on the paperwork. “But it’s what was noted in your file for the transport.”

“Is this all necessary?” my mother asked, her voice a waver of protest. “To have my daughter chained up like this?”

My parents were sitting at the table quietly, absorbing the scene. Listening. Taking it all in.

“She wouldn’t have dressed like this if we knew she’d be in all that,” she added, gesturing vaguely at my attire.

I was wearing a suit—a skirt suit, high heels, and hose. It was the kind of clothes I’d been wearing to court the past few months. My attorney had insisted it was what I should wear, and felt it might be best for this, too.

“She’s dressed fine,” Agent Nunes replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “We’ve transported other female detainees in similar clothing. The short chain will help; they won’t get tangled in the heels.”

“I still don’t understand why she has to be chained up like this,” my mother repeated, her voice higher this time, laced with genuine fury. “You’re treating her like a criminal. Like she’s dangerous.”

Agent Nunes reached over and opened the folder on the table. “Mrs. DeJesus, your daughter fled. She was arrested and extradited back to New York. She’s been held since. The judge denied bail. The only reason she’s been released is because of her plea deal with the State, and her willingness to be a witness.”

She paused there for a moment, her eyes scanning the documents. “She’s considered a flight risk. And as a result, these restraints are necessary.”

Agent Nunes closed the folder and placed both hands on it, resting them like a seal. “She can change into different footwear, but at this point, we need to continue with the transport.”

She finally turned back to me.

I shook my head. I told her I was fine.

“Okay,” she said, giving a small nod. “Thank you again for your cooperation. We’re going to move now. We’ll be moving you to the vehicle. Alright?” She maintained eye contact. “Just breathe with us. Breathe deeply.”

“You’re taking her out the front like that?” my mother chimed in again. Her voice had gained a sudden, sharp edge.

“The vehicle is parked outside, right in front of your home,” Agent Nunes explained. “We’re going to do this as quickly and safely as possible. But yes, we’re going out the front. It’s the most direct route. And it should only take a few minutes, even with your daughter’s limited movement.”

My mother crossed her arms, her defiance visible. “This is bullshit,” she remarked flatly. “This whole situation, for months now, has been nothing but bullshit. The local police. The courts. That judge. The State. And now you.”

Agent Nunes looked up at Agent Simon, who stood beside me, her expression perfectly neutral.

“Mrs. DeJesus,” Agent Nunes started, her tone shifting to one of professional finality. “We’re not here to debate your daughter’s case. We’re here to safely move her to a secure location.”

“Of which you won’t tell us,” my mother immediately countered, her voice with suspicion.

“Carol,” my dad interjected quickly. “Please stop. You’re just making this worse.”

“No,” she snapped back at him. “They’re going to parade her out the front. In front of the neighbors. Everyone.”

“Carol,” my dad said again, looking pointedly at her. “The neighbors know. They watch the news. Many saw the coverage of her being brought back after she and her friends ran.” He leaned back in his chair and let out a weary sigh. “This is a chance to get past this. Please. I just want our daughter to have a life after this.”

I watched as Agent Nunes stood up and picked up the file and the bag holding the restraints.