Chapter 4

There were 3 of us scheduled for arraignment this morning. Myself, and my two cellmates. The meth-addicted kid and the wannabe gangster. Who was trying very hard to look tough, but not quite getting there.

When the system was ready for us, they shuffled us out of the holding cell. We were in jail jumpers, waist cuffs, and shackles. You would almost think we were dangerous desperados.

We were sat down on the side of the room, away from the normal folks. There were 2 CO’s to keep an eye on us. I spotted Suzy. She didn’t look all that happy. Even across the room, I could see a mixture of mad, sad, and fear on her face. I grinned at her and gave her a thumbs up. It didn’t help.

Then the clerk called for us to rise and announced the Honorable Porter Eskelson presiding.

A distinguished-looking gentleman, in his 50’s or 60’s came in from the back room. Wearing the standard robes that showed his status, he stepped behind the bench and to his chair. “Ok, everybody, be seated.” Calling the clerk, “Cynthia, this being Monday morning, we must be doing arraignments. What is on the hit parade today?”

“Well, your honor, first is Anthony Fisk. Possession of narcotics, possession of paraphernalia, sale of narcotics, violation of probation, and violation of a restraining order.”

While the list of Mr. Fisk’s offenses was being announced, a harried-looking white guy wearing a rumpled suit from target, stood and pulled Anthony up to the podium. “Your honor, Gerald Olson, public defender’s office representing Mr. Fisk.”

“Hi Gerald, how’s your mother doing?”

“She’s fine, your honor, it wasn’t a heart attack, just a bit too much paprika on her stuffed cabbage. She insists that she put the right amount in. But the measuring spoons are a bit worn. The doc prescribed Pepto and encouraged her to belch.”

The judge started Chuckling, “I’ll bet that went over well. But back to business. How do you plead Mr. Fisk?”

Olson had to nudge Fisk, who had escaped reality for a moment. “Um, I need to plead guilty your honor. I need you to send me away for a long time. I can’t get off the stuff on my own, your honor, I need help.” By this time, Fisk was crying and probably would have collapsed if it hadn’t been for his lawyer holding him up.

The judge sat there for a moment, then asked Olson, “Recommendations?”

“Ideally, sir, he needs to be hospitalized at least until he’s clean and sober. Then he’ll need structured rehab to kick this habit.”

“Mr. DA, do you have anything to say?”

“Your honor, the county lockup is at max right now, we need to get the nonviolent offenders out before the feds force a mass release. My recommendation is that due to medical concerns, we send Mr. Fisk to state hospital south, criminal lockup until he’s clean. Then to a suitable lockup for a drug treatment program.”

“So ordered. Get with Gerald and write up a plan. Get it on my desk by business end this week, and we’ll see about getting Mr. Fisk on his way.”

As they were leading Fisk from the room, his lawyer was trying to explain what had happened. As the door to the holding cells closed, you could her Fisk start bawling and saying “Thank God” over and over until the door closed.

“Ok, Cynthia, what’s next?”

“Your honor, we have Deshawn Lewis. Charged with armed robbery, terroristic threats, threats to law enforcement.”

An older woman stood and motioned for Deshawn to join her at the podium. He refused and turned away from her. She then turned to the judge. “Your honor, Abigale Winston, public defender. Could you have the bailiffs assist Mr. Lewis?”

“No sweat Abby.” The judge raised his voice and called out. “Mr. Lewis, if you would please, join us. These proceedings are important to your future. You will join your lawyer at the podium, voluntarily. Or, if necessary, by force. You have till the count of three. One, Two, Th”

The wannabe thug stood and sauntered over to the podium. “Yo, Chuck, I choose to be at the podium. Just so’s your pigs don’t get busted up and have a reason to shoot me.”

The judge paused for a moment and then continued. “Plea please, Mr. Lewis. Guilty or Not Guilty.”

The kid opened his mouth and was interrupted by the judge. “Be careful Mr. Lewis, my patience with you is very thin at this point, and I’m not likely to be willing to play games.”

Deshawn paused for a moment, then said, “not guilty.”

The judge looked at the DA, “Bail Recommendations?”

“Your honor, this young man has very tenuous connections to the community. We consider him a flight risk of the highest order.”

“Abby?”

“Your honor, Deshawn’s only family, an aunt, is resident to the area. She has assured me that Deshawn would be present for trial.”

The judge looked at Deshawn for a couple of minutes. Deshawn glared back at him.

“Very well, bail is set as $500,000.00, cash or bond.”

The defender spoke up, “your honor, please, neither Deshawn nor his aunt can come up with that amount.”

“I know Abby, and at the risk of the appeals court seeing this as excessive bail, I feel compelled to ensure Mr. Lewis’ appearance on the charges he is accused of.”

The judge sat back and looked at his calendar. “A plea of not guilty will be entered. Bail is set at $500,000.00. We’ll schedule motions and evidence for two weeks. On, say, the 15th. Any problems with that? Cynthia?”

“None from me your honor. The schedule is clear.”

“Randy?”

The DA was flipping through the pages of a calendar. “I’m good, also your honor.”

“Abby?”

The public defender had been whispering to Deshawn, “I’ll need to confirm with you, your honor, but it looks good.”

“Great, I love it when a plan comes together. So, Cynthia, it seems that you have saved the best for last. Tell me about it.”

“Yes sir, your honor next is Matt Reynolds.”

Before she could go any further, the courtroom erupted into a riot of catcalls, shouts and yelling. “Fascist,” “Racist,” was probably the gentlest and least offensive terms being used.

The judge was astounded at the intrusion. He started banging his gavel, “Order, Order, I’ll have order, or the room will be cleared.”

Gradually the noise subsided. The judge stood and said, “Let’s get something straight right here and right now. I will not tolerate that kind of behavior period. The next person who speaks out of turn, shouts or hurls insults will be charged with contempt and given 30 days. Do not tempt me, people, I will do it.”

He glared at all the occupants in the room. While this had been going on, I joined Steve at the podium.

“Cynthia, my apologies.” the judge said, “please continue.”

Cynthia appeared scared out of her shoes. She was bone white and trembling. “Yes, your honor. The defendant is,” she almost whispered, “Matt Reynolds.” She stopped at that point as if she was afraid that there would be a repeat of the earlier disruption. While there was an increased rustling in the gallery. There was nothing else.