Chapter 11: Hearings and Audiences

March 17, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

The previous week had been blessedly peaceful, for which I was grateful. What I was doing this Monday morning was far from peaceful — keeping my word to Robby to attend every hearing having anything to do with the Bush family. As I walked up the steps to the Hayes County Courthouse, a very familiar form came into view.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Clarissa.

"Supporting you," she said. "I cleared it with Doctor Nagle. We both are earning 'honors' so he was cool about it, not to mention he said he hopes they fry Doctor Bush for dishonoring the medical profession."

"He said something similar to me when I spoke to him, but you know my take on the death penalty."

"I do. What happens today?"

"Probably not much," I replied. "But I made a promise to Robby, so even if we sit here for a few hours to hear two minutes of the specific case, I'm not going to complain."

We went into the building, located the correct courtroom, and went in. A few people were sitting on the benches in the spectator area, and some attorneys were on the other side of the 'bar', which separated their tables from the spectator area. The bench was empty, though a clerk and court reporter were present, along with a bailiff and a Sheriff's deputy. During the ten minutes before the judge came into the courtroom, a number of other spectators drifted in, and more attorneys arrived for what the posted sign called 'Felony Court Call'.

The bailiff called for everyone to stand, the judge came into the room, sat down at the bench, then banged his gavel to call the court to order. Several attorneys were lined up, and each, in turn, had their cases called, with individuals coming from the spectator area to stand and listen to what was, in my mind, mostly routine questions setting trial dates, asking for permission to travel, and so on. It was soon obvious that all the individuals who had matters which could be handled quickly were given the chance to go first, so they didn't have to wait. That meant we sat for nearly thirty minutes before the lengthier proceedings even began, and another twenty minutes before Nadine Bush's case was called.

"The State of Ohio versus Nadine Bush," the clerk announced.

"Jonathan Taft for the State," an attorney said.

"Cathy Owens for Ms. Bush," another attorney said.

"Ms. Bush is in custody," the clerk announced. "The bailiff will please have her brought before the bench."

The bailiff went to a door, used a key to open it, and disappeared. He returned a minute later with Nadine Bush, who was in handcuffs and was wearing a grey prison uniform with black horizontal stripes on the shirt, and sporting a large 'P' on the back where a baseball player's number would be, and the word 'PRISONER' on the front where the team's city would be. She was accompanied by two female Sheriff's deputies.

"Ms. Bush is before Your Honor," the defense counsel announced.

"Mr. Taft?" the judge said. "Where are we?"

"The State turned over all discovery this morning, including incident reports, witness interviews, and forensic evidence from the vehicle. As Your Honor knows, being an accessory to capital murder subjects the accused to the same bail limitations as anyone accused of first-degree murder. The state continues to oppose bail, and we are ready for trial today."

"Does the State believe this case will go to trial?"

"Barring an unconditional guilty plea, the State intends to try the case, and in any event, will request the maximum possible penalty on conviction."

"Jugular," Clarissa whispered, and I nodded in response.

"Ms. Owens?"

"Your Honor, we believe there are sufficiently extenuating circumstances and intend to submit a psychiatric report to the court within a week. We would ask Your Honor to consider bail based on the brief which was filed on Thursday; the State has received a copy."

"I've read the brief," the judge replied. "I see no basis in Ohio law for granting bail in this instance. You may reapply once the report from the psychiatrist is presented."

"Your Honor," the Prosecutor said, "the State would insist on having our own psychiatrist interview Ms. Bush before a motion is made for bail. We would also insist that defense counsel state clearly when any such motion is filed what specific defense they intend to use."

"Your Honor," Ms. Owens said firmly. "The State is not entitled to that information."

"On the contrary," the Prosecutor said, "if the defense intends to claim any kind of mental impairment, including as a response to abusive behavior, the State is entitled to know so that we may have our expert examine the accused."

"Counselors, once the examinations are done, I'd like that briefed, please. I'll enter an order requiring Ms. Bush to comply with the State's chosen psychiatrist. I'll see you back at Open Call once both are complete and you've briefed your arguments about disclosure. Mr. Taft, if, at that point, I rule in your favor, and the defense chooses to use a mental health defense, your psychiatrist will be given an opportunity to re-interview the accused."

"Yes, Your Honor," Mr. Taft replied.

"Nadine Bush is to remain in the custody of the Sheriff," the judge declared. "Next case, please."

Nadine Bush was led away, and Clarissa and I left the courtroom.

"Insanity defense?" she asked as we walked along the hallway towards the stairs.

I shrugged, "Maybe, or maybe it's she was so afraid of Frank that she feared for her life if she didn't help him."

"I'm curious how they can charge her as an accessory when she wasn't even in the car when he hit Robby and Lee."

"Jocelyn called it," I had to pause to recall the conversation, "'accessory after the fact', which means helping someone who committed a crime to cover it up or escape justice, thus 'furthering' the crime. She said it's in the statute, so it's not a stretch for the prosecutor. It's like driving the getaway car for a bank robbery, I guess."

"Ah, OK, that makes sense. You didn't rob the bank, but you helped the robbers get away."

"And the way both she and Mr. Winston explained it, if the guy who robbed the bank killed someone, the getaway driver can be charged with murder. That's even a step further than what they charged Nadine Bush with, which was as an accessory or accomplice."

"I think the prosecutor believes he has an airtight case," Clarissa said as we turned to walk down the steps to the ground floor.

"Given he basically said he wasn't interested in a plea bargain, I'd say you're right. And that was the actual elected County Prosecutor, not a deputy. I bet he's there on Thursday for Frank's hearing, too."

"I'll meet you here again. How do you find out about the next hearing?"

"That's a good question. They didn't set a date, just said 'Open Call', which I think means the defense attorney just shows up, because the State will always have someone in the courtroom, and their offices are here. But I think all that will happen then is they file their reports and the briefs that the judge asked for, and then he sets a hearing on the briefs. I'll stop in the Clerk's office on Thursday and ask. I can't imagine anything would happen before then, given they have to arrange for a psych eval."

"What if it turns out that Frank Bush is a control freak? I mean, it fits his theology, right?"

"It doesn't sound like the County Prosecutor is going to let them play any games, but honestly, the one I care the most about is Frank Bush. He's the murderer."

"They can actually yank his license just for the accusation?"

"According to Doctor Mertens, they can suspend it, and they can even revoke it without a criminal conviction. It's all part of the 'moral turpitude' clause, where even being arrested for certain crimes can lead to revocation of your license. You can get it back if it turns out that you're innocent, but I can see why they would want to revoke his license given the charges."

"That doesn't seem fair. What about innocent until proven guilty?"

"That doesn't apply. The State Medical Board has wide latitude to suspend or revoke a medical license. Similar to the Bar Association. There are avenues of appeal, and according to what Melody told us, the final decision on a law license comes from the State Supreme Court. I'm not sure what the appeals process for a medical license is, and I'm not sure I ever want to find out!"

"Are we playing hooky or going to class?"

I chuckled, "That question prior to my engagement would have resulted in all sorts of teasing, and we'd have ended up cuddling. Given that's not possible, let's go to class."

March 20, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

Thursday morning found us back in the same courtroom, waiting for Frank Bush's hearing. Things proceeded very similar to how they had gone on Monday, though it was nearly an hour before the clerk called the case.

"The State of Ohio versus Frank Bush," the clerk announced.

"Jonathan Taft for the State."

"Bernard Robbins for Mr. Bush," another attorney said.

"Mr. Bush is in custody," the clerk announced. "The bailiff will please have him brought before the bench."

As had happened on Monday, the bailiff unlocked the door, went through it, then returned with Frank Bush, who, like his wife, was handcuffed, but his legs were also shackled, and a chain connecting the cuffs to the shackles. His uniform, in contrast to his wife's, was bright orange but sported the same 'P' on the back of the shirt, and 'PRISONER' on the front. He was accompanied by three Sheriff's deputies, and when he was brought before the bench, two of them flanked him, and the third stood directly behind him.

"Mr. Bush is before Your Honor," the defense counsel announced.

"Mr. Taft?" the judge said. "Where are we?"

"The State has obtained two additional indictments against Mr. Bush, one of which is for capital murder. Pursuant to the statute, he is not entitled to bail and is to be held in segregation from other prisoners."

"Mr. Robbins?"

"We believe the 8th Amendment entitles Mr. Bush to a bond hearing, notwithstanding the statute."

The judge actually smiled, "Then make your case now, please."

"I'm unprepared for an argument this morning."

"Seriously, Counselor?" the judge inquired. "You ask for a hearing but are unprepared? You have your opportunity to make your case, if you can."

"I'd request a continuance to prepare."

"Objection!" Mr. Taft said firmly.

"Overruled," the judge said. "I'll give Mr. Robbins a chance to make his case."

"Yes, Your Honor. The State is prepared to argue its position at any time. We request a short date for the hearing."

"I'm going to set the hearing for next Tuesday morning at 11:00am," the judge said. "Mr. Robbins, that gives you four days to prepare for a bond hearing."

"Your Honor..." he began.

"Mr. Robbins, I've given you a gift. I suggest you take it."

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Frank Bush is to remain in the custody of the Sheriff and in segregation," the judge declared. "Next case, please."

Frank Bush was led away, and Clarissa and I left the courtroom and headed towards the Clerk's office.

"I nearly burst out laughing when the judge called the attorney's bluff!" Clarissa declared.

"That was pretty slick of the judge," I replied. "He basically called out the attorney, and by granting a hearing, headed off an appeal that could make a mess of the proceedings."

"They won't let him out, right?"

"I can't imagine that a Federal judge would order anything more than holding a hearing, and honestly, there's no way Bush is getting out of jail. I remember that the Eighth Amendment says they can't set excessive bail, but it doesn't say they can't set 'no' bail, and I remember from High School civics class that anyone who is a serious danger to society can be kept in jail until trial, which makes sense. I mean, if you have a potential death penalty or could be sentenced to life in prison, why not try to run away?"

"That makes sense. I guess we have to come back on Tuesday."

"That should be entertaining!"

We went into the Clerk's office and waited for our turn. I explained to the man at the window what had happened on Monday, and asked how to find out when the hearing would be scheduled. As I'd feared, the only way to find out would be to call each day and check to see if a 'motion hearing' was scheduled. He let me know that under normal circumstances, those motions were scheduled to be heard in the afternoon 'Motions Call', nearly always with a specific time and time limit. I thanked him, and Clarissa and I left the courthouse.

"That's a pain in the butt," she observed.

"It is, but I'll call and check each day."

"What if something goes wrong?"

"Then I'll tell Robby and ask him what he wants to do. I'm not sure what that might be, but I promised to do anything I can, and I will. I owe it to Lee, too."

"Know any Italians?" Clarissa asked in a conspiratorial tone, though with a smirk.

"That would make me just like Frank Bush," I replied flatly.

"Sorry, I was trying to make a joke."

"I know," I replied.

"School?"

"Yes, but there will only be about forty minutes of class remaining, so let's just go to the cafeteria."

"Deal!"

We got into our Mustangs, drove to the medical school, parked in our usual spots at the far edge of the lot, then walked to the building and went straight to the cafeteria. We got coffee and went to sit to wait for our friends for lunch.

"Are you doing OK?" Clarissa asked.

"Yes. I had a good talk with Father Nicholas again last night, but it's more about how I can help Robby and Sophia than me. I mean, sure, I'm sad and upset, but not depressed."

"You'd tell me if you were?"

"Yes, Dear," I chuckled.

"Don't be a dope, Petrovich! You know I care."

"I know, and I know you love me. I love you, too. And I'm doing OK. What about you?"

"Pissed off more than anything," Clarissa replied. "Doctor Petrovich and Doctor Lissa weren't ever going to be emotional; it's just not our nature."

"I've learned a bit," I said. "Janey was right about me being too cold."

Clarissa laughed, "If that's true, then her «пизда» (pizda) really WAS rotten! I'm lesbian, and you warmed me up!" ("pussy")

"Truthfully?"

"Petrovich, even you aren't so dense as to not understand how you made me feel."

"I have a list of women who would debate you on how dense I am!" I countered.

"Starting with your wife?"

"Obviously!"

"Hi, Mike," Peter said, coming over to the table.

"Hi."

"Let's get some lunch!"

I nodded and got up from the table. Clarissa got up as well, and we joined Fran, Sandy, and Maryam in the cafeteria line.

"How did things go?" Fran asked.

"His lawyer tried to pull a fast one," I replied, "but the judge called his bluff."

"About what?"

"A bond hearing, which a person accused of capital murder doesn't normally get in Ohio because they aren't entitled to bond, let alone a hearing. But the judge offered one immediately, and Bush's attorney wasn't prepared. The judge gave him until Tuesday, and I'm going back."

"You're going to miss a lot of classes, Deacon," Maryam said.

"I'll be fine," I said. "I cleared everything with the school, and they're sympathetic."

We all got our lunches and went to our usual table to eat. When we finished eating, we went to one of the small study rooms we usually used, and spent the afternoon studying. I made sure to copy Peter's notes from the morning class while Clarissa copied Fran's, and when we'd finished, I headed home for my date with Elizaveta.

March 22, 1986, Ellwood City, Pennsylvania

On Friday, immediately after class ended, I had hurried home so Elizaveta and I could have a quick meal, and then get on the road. We had made the drive from McKinley to Ellwood City in just over four hours, and checked into the Lark Motel, which was about seven miles from the monastery. We'd had a good night's sleep and were up early on Saturday morning so we could have breakfast.

"You're awfully calm," Elizaveta commented as we drank our coffee after finishing our meal.

"I flipped the 'Doctor Mode' switch when we got up this morning," I replied with a soft smile. "Well, after the shower, anyway."

Elizaveta giggled, "We couldn't have done that at the monastery!"

"You do seem to have a one-track mind, Kitten."

"As if YOU would complain? Hmm?"

"Just an observation, not a complaint!"

"Do you know who traveled with the Metropolitan? I know he doesn't travel alone."

"My grandfather's friend, Pyotr Borisovich Krasnov. I'm pretty sure they all agreed that it was better to have one of their confederates rather than a subdeacon or deacon."

"You make it sound like a conspiracy!"

"Because it is a conspiracy," I replied. "It's a secret plan to do something which violates the canons. But, as is always the case, the preservation of the church and its mission takes precedence over slavish obedience to the canons. You just have to be prepared to accept the consequences of failure, or of success."

"You think you might be disciplined even if you succeed?"

"It's entirely possible, that in the end, I'm the only one who is disciplined."

"What?!" Elizaveta gasped.

"It's possible that the ultimate outcome is that Deacon Vasily and the Parish Council are restored and that I am disciplined for what amounts to directly disobeying my bishop."

"But the Metropolitan invited you!" Elizaveta protested.

"That's true, but discipline isn't up to him — it's up to Bishop PAUL or his successor, or, if by some miracle the accusations against Bishop ARKADY are unfounded, then him. I could appeal to the Metropolitan or the Synod, but I won't."

"But why?"

"Because I know I'm breaking the rules and doing it willfully. I am, in effect, lying to Father Nicholas by concealing this meeting from him. And to Bishop PAUL. My grounds for appeal could only be that I knowingly did the wrong thing without trying to do the right thing because I substituted my will for the Bishop's."

"That's wrong, Mike, In every possible way!"

"And yet, it's also right. Think about the message that would be sent if disobedience were rewarded. Do the ends justify the means?"

"You've said you would do whatever was necessary to save a patient!"

I nodded, "Yes, that's true, even if it were to put my medical license at risk. That wouldn't be sinful in my mind; this is."

"Oh, please!" Elizaveta protested.