Chapter 3

The next morning, after headcount and breakfast. A really bland oatmeal with a carton of milk and a slice of dry toast. No coffee. We were told to stand by in the pod commons area. Ten minutes later, my name was called, and I was cuffed up. This included a waist chain and ankle shackles. At best, all I could do was shuffle my way along.

I was taken off the pod and escorted by four correctional officers to a room. Inside was a steel table and chair bolted to the floor. 2 other chairs on the other side of the table. The standard mirror was on the wall facing me. The joint was so cliché. I felt like I should start looking for Jack Webb or Broderick Crawford to come in. What I did do was go to sleep.

I know I was a disappointment to the folks on the other side of the mirror. I wasn’t playing the game right. One of the methods of interrogation I had learned was to deprive the interviewee of time. Remove watches and clocks. Use a windowless room so that day and night can’t be determined. For long term interrogations, sleep deprivation, nonstandard meal times, monotonous, flavorless, and identical meals, all are used to throw the subject off stride. These folks didn’t have the time to go into this with that depth. I mean, I wasn’t an enemy spy with the plans for world domination in my head. All I was, was a guy who popped an idiot upside the head. But by the same token, from what Paul had said, this thing had gone ‘viral’ on the ‘internet.’

I knew what the internet was, viral, on the other hand, was a bit of a mystery. I assumed that it was something popular and people on the internet were watching it, kind of like tv. Beyond that, I was clueless. To tell the truth, the important things in my life didn’t have to deal with electrons and circuits. I knew what a computer was and that they had become popular. But my life was based more on the people in my life, my family, and the land that I lived on, the animals that I cherished and protected.

As I said earlier, I wasn’t playing the game right. By going to sleep, I short-circuited their time boggle. The next one on their list, I knew, was going to be my bladder. A jailer coming into the room awakened me. He asked me if I needed anything. I knew this was the opening gambit of the bladder game. “Yes sir, I could use a trip to the restroom please.” His response was planned. “I’ll see what I can do for you. be right back.”

What I did next was rude, crude, and socially unacceptable. After what I judged was enough time, I emptied my bladder all over the tabletop from one side to the other. Drawing my name, little hearts, I even started a tic tac toe game before I ran out of stream, and the CO came rushing back in. He stood just inside the door with his mouth open. His eyes were jumping from the table to me. I smiled and said, “I told you I needed the restroom.” he turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

It was shortly after that, 4 of the bigger corrections officers came into the room and secured me to a restraint chair. They went the full route. Straightjacket, spit mask, leg shackles. It was during this process that I decide to ramp things up a bit more. I started laughing hilariously. I begged them to add more restraints, tighter, more, more, more. Then I ‘passed out.’ my head dropped to my chest. I started making the most horrendous choking sounds and then started randomly jerking my arms and legs. That is, as much as I could get away with.

This freaked them out even more. The jail nurse was called, as was the Psychologist and an MD. As soon as they came in the room, I changed up again, calm as a cucumber, rational, lucid, polite. Those 3 medical professionals were ready to put the CO’s in padded cells by the time I was done. The result, after I explained myself and what happen, resulted in the restraints being removed, and I was taken to a new interview room.

Five minutes later, I was joined by a 40’s gentleman, dressed in a neat suit. I could see that it was tailored. He was showing signs of male pattern baldness. But he hadn’t tried to hide it with a cheesy comb-over. He had a bit of a paunch. It could have easily moved to the obese side of the scale if he wasn’t careful. At the time, I didn’t feel like offering nutritional advice.

He sat down in the chair opposite from me and looked at me for a moment. “So, Mr. Reynolds, I see that you’ve been having some fun at the expense of our correctional staff. They don’t quite know what to do with you. What do you recommend?”

“Obviously, sir, I should be let go, with the sincere apologies of the various legal entities that have placed me in this room with you. barring that, I want my lawyer, now.”

“Yes, I am sure that release is foremost in your mind. And your lawyer will join us presently. But while we’re waiting, I would like to ask you some questions.” He opened the binder in front of him, “Your legal name, please?”

I didn’t answer, I just stared. “Come now, Mr. Reynolds, you have a legal obligation under Idaho state law to identify yourself to law enforcement upon demand.”

I didn’t answer.

“Please, Mr. Reynolds, this is just a proforma questionnaire. There isn’t anything here to indicate guilt or innocence. sir, there is nothing dangerous here.”

I still didn’t answer.

I could tell that his patience was starting to wear thin. “Sir, you aren’t doing yourself any favors here. If you refuse to answer, I could charge you with contempt or obstruction of justice.”

Now it was my turn. “Sir, you have called me Mr. Reynolds several times. Therefore, you know my name. So, all that happy crap you’ve been trying to feed me, you already have the answers to.” He tried to interrupt at that point, I ignored it and continued.

“I know that you have the report from Elk City. And the follow-ups from the two troopers that brought me here. I would have hoped that you would have been bright enough to figure out that I’m not a virgin here. Further, unless you are an idiot, you know that the second I asked for my lawyer, all interviews, questions, interrogations end. That includes this bogus questionnaire. Now I’m going to repeat, and this time if you try to ignore me or try to BS me, again, I can guarantee you’ll be in front of the state disciplinary committee by the end of the week. I want my lawyer!”

For a good 5 minutes, we stared at each other. Finally, he stood up, “very well, if its hardball you want, it’s hardball you’re going to get.”

As he turned to the door, I spoke up, “better not erase that last part of that tape buddy. If that wasn’t a clear threat, I don’t know what is.” I turned to the mirror and said, “I’ll be subpoenaing you equipment techs, so don’t bother erasing anything. That is unless you want to answer a federal civil rights violation charge.”