Chapter 10

I wonder how long of a nap I will get today as these overzealous FBI clowns kill my evening as their forensic people are destroying my car, I asked myself as I nodded off to sleep.

Normally I would not expect to have that long of a drive with the most law enforcement types, but these guys were from the Atlanta FBI office. Sure they could use their lights and sirens to try to make things go faster, but we were heading into downtown Atlanta, on a Friday, after 3:30 PM on Thursday. The only emergency vehicles that will get through Atlanta traffic on a Friday are ambulances and anyone going to clear the wreck blocking all lanes on "The Connector." Otherwise forget it. It was already past four and we were still an hour out, even at eighty. So it was going to be at least two hours, if not longer, until we arrived.

Damn now I am going to have to take my "real" lawyer to dinner downtown again. I wonder if they would let me get away with suggesting Peachtree Center. Yeah, right!

The SUV they were assigned was one of the older, heavily armored ones. It was just short of being safe enough for the president. Well that is not exactly true. It is probably safe enough for some presidents. Others needed extra armor when traveling in the South, especially depending on how their latest stupid law or policy was received.

Either way, this was a big heavy beast that was lucky to get five gallons to the mile. It had also seen plenty of action. So as the way over caffeinated asshole in the front drove like a possessed maniac it sounded like we were trying to drive out of a tornado. I did actually feel bad for his partner.

Leaning over a bit so the agent could hear me, "Can you slip your card into my shirt pocket? I will make sure it gets to my lawyer when we arrive. No need to have this on your record, I am sure you have made enough of your own dumb mistakes that you don't need this dragging you down. It is going to be a major shit storm, especially since I know my car went to the Athens office to be searched for contraband."

He just gave me a slight nod and I leaned over toward the window to get some more sleep. It was almost seven when the agent beside me nudged me awake. He put his card into my shirt pocket just before his, now very agitated partner from almost three hours of driving in Atlanta traffic, jerked me out of the SUV. He seemed to delight in taking that anger out on me as he "directed" me into the bowels of their office to "interrogate" me about my crimes. "Mr. Johnson you will tell us everything about your counterfeiting operation and threatening activities at the bank today. Why not make it easy on yourself? Just confess. We will get this all processed quickly. You can be home for the ten o'clock news," the angry agent said trying to sound not full of shit. "So are you going to do this the easy way or the hard way?"

Smiling back I said, "Most definitely the hard way."

Yep! That is what he wanted to hear. Fun time!

"For the record please identify yourself," he started saying as he dropped into the chair with a legal pad and tape recorder.

Lol! What a great prop! You have no clue what I do for a living, my IQ or if I even have any idea about the law. I read every bit of the bar exam data as I was setting up the quiz program. This room is wired for sound, video, has a crowd of alphabet agencies behind the glass and you can lie your ass off to get me to say what you want.

"For the record I am now invoking my Sixth Amendment right to counsel and Fifth Amendment protection against incriminating myself," I told him as I looked directly into his eyes. "My lawyer should already in your SAC's waiting area."

"Cut out this shit Mr. Johnson! Everyone here knows you are guilty. Your lawyer knows it! Give up your operation and we will cut you a deal," he yelled and slammed his hands down on the table.

Ah he uses the fear tactic.

"Alright agent, as you wish," I said sitting up in my chair. "Under duress I confess that I was not informed of my Miranda Rights and I have been refused my constitutional right to counsel. I need to confer with counsel as to the accepted interpretation, but I am quite sure my Fourth Amendment rights are currently being violated with regard to my home, place of work and vehicle. I likewise affirm I refuse to answer your questions lest I incriminate myself. Further attempts at questioning will likewise be fruitless."

That pissed him off even more.

I just leaned back, I crossed my arms and just ignored him. The longer he took to get my lawyer down here, the more likely it was that I would get out of having to buy my lawyer dinner. Looking at the clock I saw it was almost eight already.

Might as well see how many more I can piss off before they get their asses handed to them.

Waving at the one-way mirror I said, "Any other agency need to come in to have me take the fifth for the audio and video records? Might as well get it all done at once while you continue to delay getting my counsel down here in an attempt to wear me down."

Hey the water here was cold. Eventually they had to let me take a piss.

No matter what the agent tried to do to coerce me to speak to him, the only things I said were asking when I would get my lawyer and if I could have more water.

Well I did mention something about cruel and unusual punishment regarding not being provided any form of food, but that was just to keep him pissed off.

Somewhere around nine the door to the room opened and the agents were "requested" to take me to a conference room where I could talk to my lawyer. As soon as I walked in I knew I did not want to be anywhere near the FBI SAC's office tonight, well ever, but especially not tonight. I expected my lawyer to be there, but not his wife.

Sucks to be these FBI clowns! They are so screwed and don't even know it.

Most very successful male lawyers tend to have a trophy wife. You know, the silicon enhanced hard body draped over his arm to impress his clients and associates at social functions. She was expected to give him the prescribed number of children required for high status in their social circles. Most I had met could tell me the latest Hollywood Gossip and big trends in fashion, but had no concept of an intellectual conversation. I know when my lawyer introduced me to his wife, Penny, I stupidly allowed myself to instantly classify her in the trophy wife category. I mean she had an impressive set of firm 36 D breasts, tight abs and an almost flat ass after giving him three children in the last five years, breast feeding all three until they were one. Add in that she had "perfect" naturally blonde hair and the stereotype was set in my mind.

Well she saw the look in my eyes and took it upon herself to correct me right there on the spot.

Penny turned out to be "the" senior partner at her Father's law firm. At ten she got bored with her private school's snail pace of teaching. On her own she took the SAT and ACT in secret, having the results sent to a P.O. Box she opened, oddly, via snail mail. Much like myself and Ariel, she found and learned where on the exams that she had scored badly and then worked hard to ensure she got a much higher score the next time she took them. Getting in the top ninety-fifth percentile on both exams is a great way to have colleges begging to give scholarships in exchange for choosing them. It is all automated and schools rarely bother to check the age of applicants. After some carefully worded letters of explanation, which Penny said skirted the edge of deception, she did all of the non-declared major requirements in English, Math, Biology, History and Language Arts requirements via correspondence courses. She managed to "arrange" to be in town for a few hours when she had to take a proctored exam. When she started high school at thirteen, she had tested out of most of her required classes and only had to take electives. A bit more careful planned had her going to town in the afternoons to take some "college classes" with some of the other girls at her school.

She let the school assume she was taking the slow-paced community college courses that were slowed down for people not really able to make it at a real college. Instead she was taking four classes Monday, Wednesday and Friday and two more Tuesdays and Thursdays. Penny was pleased as hell to send out invitations to her graduation ceremony, at the main Columbia University campus in New York City.

Penny explained to me, "Boredom always permitted me ample opportunity to devise very intricate pranks. Secret congresses were held within my family to correct this undesired behavior once and for all. Father felt that if I went to such lengths to arrange my own travel to New York City, contrive a way to insert my name into the program and give all indications of a realistic graduation ceremony, they would respond in kind. Every grandparent, sibling, aunt, uncle and cousin was in attendance, as should be to give credence to his ruse. Calling in some long overdue favors, the procession was stopped as it was my turn to cross the stage. He never actually attempted to verify if I was indeed present or truly graduating. My father's desire to embarrass me out of ever doing another prank backfired."

Before she continued she told me to place my drink down.

I saw why when she told me how the dean requested everyone stand to recognize the extraordinary effects taken by Penny to be here today. He started into this long speech about how pranksters always tried to outdo each other at graduation ceremonies. There was a list of some of the most well executed ones over the years. Finally he called her up on the stage.

"Today I am honored to admit publically that this young lady pulled off the best senior prank to date. No one has been able to slip one past me until now. Congratulations Miss Penny Alexus Newcome," he announced as he shook her hand.

"It was entirely classic. His arrogance permitted him to assume he was the target of a prank and I just so happened to fit into it perfectly," she said with a huge smile. "Appearing to be a good sport he expected he was playing along when given the notecard of my real achievements."

"Penny here scored in the top ninety-fifth percentile on her SAT and ACTs at the age of twelve to receive a full scholarship to Columbia University. Miss Newcome completed her entire undergraduate studies via correspondence courses and through campus extension programs at the community college near her boarding school..." the president of the college said before looking back at some administrators to find that this was really not a joke at all.

After a few minutes Penny told me the president apologized to her publically.

"My sincerest apologies Miss Penny Alexis Newcome, I have been informed that is no joke. You are here today graduating with a Bachelor's of the Arts with a 3.99 GPA, but still have not received your high school diploma. It is my honor to present you with your diploma today, you have earned it!"

I remember the smile on her face as she told me how her family was sitting there looking dumbfounded. They had no idea this was for real or what they were supposed to do now when everyone was clapping and cheering for her. When she met up with her family after the ceremony she demanded her father inform the boarding school that they failed their job and she would not be returning. She began Harvard in two weeks on a full fellowship, including room and board. She reminded him that as a lawyer, he really should carefully read all documents he was given to sign. He had already signed all the admission forms for a minor to attend Harvard Law without having to live with a parent or guardian.

She studied non-stop and completed Law School in three years.

Well this is about to be a very nice evening after all, if the FBI does not take forever when chewing out the asshole agent that is trying to show off for someone.

"What did you do now Joe," Penny asked me.

I gave them a rundown on the teller deciding I was some sort of threat when I deposited cash into my account, so she decided to flag me as every possible sort of criminal her computer would let her do. I made sure to note that I had closed out my accounts, except the one where I had tried to make the deposit, due to her behavior.

"The FBI lead agent was just sure I was some sort of criminal and has been trying to get me to confess to a wide range of crimes. He did not like that I pled the fifth. Right now I expect he is having his forensic scientists destroying my car looking for some form of contraband," I told them. "Oh, the same teller that flagged me as a criminal completely ignored all of the illegals trying to cash paychecks with no ID."

So after a few more minutes going over everything again, I was told not to say shit when I was taken back to interrogation. My lawyer would be there shortly. Penny was going to have a "chat" with the SAC.

I wonder if the agents will even have time to ask me one question before the SAC takes a chunk out of their asses.

Turns out I was wrong. They did ask me a lot of questions, which I refused to answer, even when my lawyer arrived.

"Gentlemen, I have advised my client to not answer any of your questions. Please present your allegations or release my client," my lawyer demanded.

The asshole agent seemed to get really happy as he said, "Mr. Johnson here has been identified by the bank teller as matching images of a wanted terrorist, drug smuggler and counterfeiter. All of the bills we seized off his person at the time of arrest consisted of eleven thousand dollars in sequential bills. IRS charges are pending for Mr. Johnson attempting to bypass antiterrorism reporting requirements for banks to report cash deposits of five thousand dollars or more. Your client is clearly involved in a number of illegal activities."

Damn grasp for straws much?

I watched my lawyer open his briefcase and pull out a number of documents. I saw that one was on the letterhead of the bank where this all started today. He just sat back as the asshole agent looked at the documents. His partner had the "oh shit I am so screwed" look on his face for a second before regaining his FBI face.

"Any good counterfeiting ring can produce documents of this nature with a cheap bargain basement laser printer and stolen letterhead. The signatures and notarization carry no weight, they too are easily forged," he told my lawyer. "All you have done is further bury your client by providing a clear pattern of money laundering. If this is the only defense you have I will be turning your client over to federal marshals to await arraignment whenever convenient for the judge."

What the fuck? Is this guy really believing his own bullshit?

My lawyer was pissed now, but maintained his calm tone as he told the agent, "Agent. These documents are signed by the bank presidents, notarized by their public notaries, and witnessed by myself."

"I don't give a damn if the President of the United States signed this load of horseshit right in front of me. It has no bearing on the fact your client was identified as a known terrorist, drug smuggler and counterfeiter by the bank," the agent yelled back interrupting. "We are going to hold him indefinitely under the Patriot Act until we are damn well sure he is not guilty of any crime."

No matter what my lawyer said, the FBI agent was not going to listen. An hour later I found myself being forced to strip and put on bright orange coveralls. I still had not eaten anything. When I mentioned that I was told I would be lucky to get anything to eat until I started confessing to all of my crimes. A bit roughly I was thrown into a small eight by four foot cell. If they did not have to provide me with a toilet I am sure it would be even smaller. It had no windows at all and the only light was being piped in from somewhere to some sort of plastic diffuser in the ceiling. My door was solid with only a small door to put my hands through to get cuffs on and a window to look in on me.

Ok this is getting old. What the hell did I do to piss in this agent's Wheaties?

All weekend long it was either being stuck in this room, with little food or being interrogated at random times for hours. I was lucky to get a few minutes to take power naps. These dicks were treating me like I was really a fucking terrorist. I kept pleading the fifth and all that did was piss off each shift of FBI interrogators. I knew better than to tell them anything as they would find some way to hang me for it, not matter what I said. Somebody had their panties in a bunch.

I had no idea if it was Monday or a week from Friday when they finally threw me a clean orange jumpsuit, shackled me, and drug me off to somewhere to be in front of a Federal Judge. When I got into the courtroom I saw there had to be a dozen guards around the room, all with assault rifles and in full body armor. I was shackled down to a metal bar concreted into the floor. Posted on both sides of my table were some sort of police officers with what looked to be cattle prods. I did not see my lawyer or anyone else I recognized in the court.

Shit! This is getting fucking crazy! So what? All this because I yanked the chain of a little bitch by depositing cash at her bank.

"Court please rise," a bailiff, wearing a bullet proof vest and armed to the teeth, said. "Magistrate Judge Watson, United States District Court presiding."

I could not see it, but I am sure the asshole FBI agent was grinning as I found the shackles were locked to the floor in a way that made it impossible to stand up fully. I saw the dirty look from the judge as I appeared to be disrespecting him in his court.

Not a good way to start this hell off.

"Judge Watson I am requesting Mr. Johnson be remanded to Guantanamo Bay under the Patriot Act as a terrorist for further interrogation by specially trained teams. They have a techniques I am not permitted to employ," the asshole agent started saying.

Fuck this. If I am going to get screwed I am going to go down fighting.

At the top of my lungs I said, "Objection!" over and over again as the agent tried to keep talking.

Finally I saw the guards with cattle prods start to move in close to me.

"Mr. Johnson, You will not be disrespectful in my court," the judge said clearly irritated with me. "You may not object as you are not a lawyer."

"That is my objection Judge Watson. For the second time since my arrest, access to my Lawyer is being denied as is required under Sixth Amendment to the Bill of Rights. My counsel was not present during the subsequent interrogations either," I told him. "The last communications we had was prior to my being relocated to a holding cell. I have been detained for at least forty-eight hours without being advised of any charges nor was I given one my phone call."

I saw the look in the judge's face as he made the call that he did not even want to deal with me in his courtroom.

"You appear unaware of the full details of the Patriot Act. Positively identified terrorists do not get any legal protection under the Constitution or Bill of Rights," the Judge said. "Remain quiet or I will have you removed for the remainder of this hearing."

The FBI agent did have a smirk on his face now as he continued, "Judge Watson, as you can see Mr. Johnson is clearly demonstrating criminal behavior patterns through his quoting of the Bill of Rights, specifically the Fifth Amendment to prevent any attempts at interrogation. He has been positively identified as a terrorist, money launderer, and counterfeiter."

Just as he was going to continue both his phone and his partner's phone buzzed.

"Sir, my apologies. May I request a brief recess to address a matter of national security," the agent asked dripping in honey.

I guess the Judge wanted out of there too, so he called for a fifteen minute recess. Everyone but the guards left the courtroom. When the agent and his partner came back in it was closer to an hour later.

This is bullshit! I don't care how long it takes, I will find some way to make that cocky asshole suffer.

Just as we were getting seated, and after the Judge took the bench again, there was a disturbance outside the courtroom. I could not hear what was said, but all of the guards with assault rifles moved in a way that appeared that they were preparing to shoot me if I tried anything. I could not turn around to see when the doors opened.

There were some people walking in when the judge asked loudly, "What is the meaning of this interruption?"

"Judge Watson, I am Joe Johnson's counsel," my lawyer said in a tone that dared the judge to respond. "The senior FBI agent on this case provided erroneous times and locations for this hearing. I have a number of witnesses for the defense and parties directly involved in these allegations. As of this time the FBI has filed no charges against my client. Nor have they given any evidence with regard to their Patriot Act claims."

The judge looked pissed now, but I don't know if it was at my lawyer showing up or the FBI agent. He directed the FBI agent to just start again from the beginning.

"For the benefit of those now present, I am requesting Mr. Johnson be remanded to Guantanamo Bay for continued interrogation into his terroristic activities," the agent started. "He was positively identified to match a known terrorist. He was likewise in possession of eleven thousand dollars in sequential bills at the time of being brought in for questioning. The treasury is holding another five thousand dollars in sequential bills. All match the nearly perfect counterfeit currency Iran began flooding into the world markets last month."

My lawyer seemed to know the required behavior in this form of hearing and did not jump in. He waited until the FBI agent finished his spiel, yet presented no solid evidence of any form. He had leaned over to me briefly to tell me to stay quiet no matter what was said about me.

The judge asked us all to rise, which of course the shackles would not permit me to do.

"Based on the FBI investigation, definitive identification as a terrorist, I am issuing an order to remand..."

He was interrupted again by someone coming into the courtroom behind us. I heard whomever it was moving into a row behind us. Whoever it was made the judge stop ruling to send me off to Gitmo, well for a few seconds anyway.

"I am issuing the order to remand Mr. Johnson to Guantanamo Bay until such a time that he divulges his ties to the terroristic cells providing his counterfeit funds," the judge said sounding really sure of himself.