TO KILL A JUDGE
Paul Nelson
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BooksForABuck.com
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Copyright © 2010 by Paul Nelson, all rights reserved.
No portion of this novel may be duplicated, transmitted, or stored in any form without the express written permission of the publisher.
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This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and locations are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or people is coincidental
Published by
BooksForABuck.com
At Smashwords
ISBN: 978-1-60215-125-3
REVELATIONS, 6:8 “And behold a pale horse:
and the name of him who sat on it was death, and
Hell followed with him.”
CHAPTER ONE
Sighting down the barrel, Matthew squinted into the scope, through the crosshairs onto the front door where he was certain the Judge would shortly appear; she always did. 7:10 am. The door would open at exactly 7:15 am. and she would come out on the porch in her white terry-cloth robe, bend over and pick up her morning newspaper.
He ignored his racing pulse, focusing on his duties. Refusing to allow the wrong questions to enter his mind, concentrating only on the necessities of marksmanship. Still, his mind wandered, so he deliberated on what he was doing and how he had gotten to this point.
He adjusted his scope, a Bausch & Lomb Elite 4200 with a 6X36 Matte: an expensive one and very precise. His rifle of choice, a Ruger semi-automatic 22 with a single 15 round clip. Carrying no spare clips was natural for him. Just as with his last five victims, he brought only what was necessary to the crime scene. The one full clip he had was loaded with Stinger 22 long-rifle hollow point bullets. In reality, he knew that one bullet should be more than enough for his purpose.
Come on, Judge! Come and get it. I’ve waited ten years for this moment. Your time has come.
Inside his head was a cacophony of sound, a tremendous roaring, as if he were standing in a cave under a giant waterfall. Having waited far too long to be put off by imaginary noises, he shook his head hoping to clear it and quiet the distractions.
Concentrate. Only a few moments to go. Almost there.
All in all, Dr. Matthew Hightower was a man of many talents. During the last ten years his talents had been honed, refined and conditioned by a searing hatred. His entire being had focused on revenging the wrongs six individuals had heaped upon him. Five were now disposed of. Only one victim remained.
Uncharacteristically and totally against his will, his mind wandered to Marilyn and the girls. What would they think if they knew that he was a murderer? What kind of husband could kill a judge? What kind of father could kill an unarmed woman in cold blood? They knew nothing of his other victims. What if the unthinkable happened and he got caught? No 18 years this time. Nope, this was old sparky, straight up.
My God, Matt, get your act together! She’ll be out in a moment. Feel the fire in your guts. Put it out! There’s no other way! For God’s sake, get a grip!
Blinking the sweat from his eyes, he looked at his watch. 7:12 AM.
He focused on the mailbox under which the newspaper lay in the curled up arms of the black wrought iron holder. The rifle sights were perfectly set; he had tweaked them himself, dead on target at 100 yards. Perched, about 10 feet off the ground in a seated position with a solid limb in front for a gun prop, he was situated almost exactly 100 yards from the Judge’s porch. It was a clear shot from the perch to the Judge.
Cold and bruised from sitting on the hard bark of the limb, his ass hurt severely and his legs were totally numb from lack of circulation; still, he did not shift his position. No telltale motion would give him away before he completed his deadly task.
7:15 am. Judge Alice Dana opened her door. As she did every morning, she stopped to smell the fresh air, breathing it in deeply as she looked around, absorbing the peace and tranquility of the country area she had chosen for her home.
No longer feeling the pain and numbness of his long wait, Matt blinked the sweat from his eyes for the last time. All visions of Marilyn and the girls receded into the recesses of his mind to allow total focus on the job at hand. Shutting down all questions and concentrating, his finger began to take up slack on the trigger. He took a deep breath, let out half of it, and gently squeezed. Through the scope he centered the crosshairs on a space at the top of her nose, precisely between Judge Dana’s unsuspecting eyes.
* * * *
“Will the defendant please rise.”
Rising to his feet, Matt was flanked on both sides by his attorneys.
God, I hope she’s seen through this farce.
Looking at Matt and his attorneys, Judge Alice Dana focused her eyes on the defendant, Matthew Hightower and pronounced: “It is the decision of this court that you be sentenced to eighteen years in the Florida Penal System, said prison time to be followed by five years probation.”
Gasping for air, Matt felt like he had been kicked in the chest by a bull elephant. Eighteen years! Dear God, I’ll be an old man and Marilyn will be a white haired old woman! Eighteen years!
His bowels turned to water and it took every ounce of mental and physical strength he could muster to keep from spewing brown liquid down his pants, right in the courtroom. Even his concentration on his urethra and sphincter muscles did not prevent a few drops of urine from staining his shorts and darkening the front of his blue trousers. Legs filled with jelly refused to hold him steady and he leaned against Sam as his pulse raced and sweat began running profusely down his face and armpits. His mind swirled in a fog of confusion. What had brought him to this?
* * * *
Growing up as a country boy and raised in the woods of north Florida, Matthew Hightower always knew he would leave the country life some day. He felt destined for bigger and better things.
Matt’s mother, Flora, stood five feet eight inches tall, and was pleasantly plump. Flora often mused that all of the world’s problems, and especially the problems of her own family, could be solved with a lot of love and a good meal. Matt was her first and only child and from the moment he was born she called him ‘her little angel’, and saw too it that her angel had plenty of time to practice earning his wings at the local Catholic Church.
Matt enjoyed being an altar boy—he could see his mother beam with pride every Sunday as he recited flawless Latin in response to the priest’s intonations. Besides, by being a good altar boy, he got to skip a lot of classes to assist the priest at weddings and funerals. Being a little angel had its moments.
His father, Cecil, was a slim but muscular man six foot two inches in height, with black wavy hair, gray eyes that twinkled when he looked at his wife and son, and a bright shining smile that constantly fought to bee seen. A farmer by choice, he worked from sunup to sundown growing his crops and raising a small herd of Angus cattle. As a living, it was hard work and Cecil enjoyed it far more than did his only son. A patient and personable man, Cecil spent a lot of time with Matt, imparting on him knowledge of the woods, wildlife and the farming industry of North Florida.
Matt loved and respected his parents but he had no intention of following in his father’s footsteps. It was not the work that bothered Matt. In fact, he liked the hard labor and the feeling he got when he really had to use his muscles. It was just that Matt was ambitious and personable with a lust for life that would not allow him to settle for a farmer’s existence. After talking to the parish priest, Matt sat down with his parents one evening about six months before high school was out.
“Mom, dad, I’ve got something to tell you and it isn’t easy,” Matt began. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I even discussed it with Father Dan. I want to join the Navy and see the world while I’m still young enough to enjoy it.”
Dreading their response, Matt waited for his parents to speak.
Flora went first, and there was moisture in her eyes as she said, “I guess I’ve always known that you weren’t one for farming. I had hoped that you would like to try college out first, but you’re so much like your father that I can see in your eyes you’ve already made your mind up.”
She paused, eyes brimming with tears and Cecil spoke.
“Son, I knew as much as your mom did that you’re no farmer. You are a good worker and a good man and I believe you will make us proud whatever you do. I think I speak for us both when I wish you the best, even though it will break your momma’s heart when you go. I’m sure I’ll miss you too.” His dad reached out, grabbed Matt by the neck and then hugged him.
Instantly, all three of them were hugging and crying and Matt experienced joint feelings of relief and sadness. These two people were the rock of his existence and he really loved them both. He would miss them every bit as much as they missed him.
Upon graduation at age eighteen, Matt signed up with the local Navy recruiter to set out to see the world. Although both parents knew it was coming, it was still a shock. Three days later, it was time. After tearful goodbyes, Matt’s father gave him two one hundred dollar bills and his mother insisted he take two large slices of his favorite, pecan pie, and a very manly sterling silver St. Christopher medal and chain to protect him in his travels.
By now he had acquired his maximum body height of six feet one inch but he had yet to fill out, weighing in at a measly one-hundred-seventy pounds, albeit, with no fat; only lean mass adorned his rugged, farm boy frame. Striking good looks complemented his thick, wavy black hair and a fine set of even white teeth sat waiting to flash in a quick and ready smile. Accentuating his slate gray eyes, his face was handsome and intelligent looking which would serve him well with the ladies for the rest of his life.
The first stop on his new journey placed him at boot camp in San Diego, California. Although his aptitude test’s showed Matt qualified for almost any enlisted job placement, it had only taken him a few short weeks to realize that the medical personnel received preferred treatment, so he signed up to become a Navy corpsman.
Following boot camp he went directly to enlisted medical training at the main camp educational facility, still at San Diego Naval Base. Co-ed classes allowed Matt to become involved with a cute redhead and experience his first major crush. Earlier encounters with a limited number of small town country girls hadn’t prepared him for Sally. Although the same age as he, Sally was a far more experienced sexual partner than Matt. With her home in Los Angeles, weekends soon became a tropical fantasy come true; the drive itself became a test of extended foreplay often culminating in a rush indoors to strip and tumble into her massive king-sized waterbed. Afterward, in a much more relaxed state, they would share drinks while skinny-dipping in the pool until arousal once again took over. Sometimes they made it back to bed, sometimes the side of the pool or a convenient lounge chair sufficed. Those were weekends that most men could only dream of.
Reality set in soon enough though, and before their affair could lead to bigger and better things, they received orders to different stations. Elated with his placement at the head of his class, Matt was nonetheless upset that his orders would separate him from Sally at this point in their relationship. Assigned to a post on the attack aircraft carrier, USS Hancock, CVA 19, which was stationed out of Alameda, California, he could only fret about Sally’s assignment to a hospital ship based in Norfolk, Virginia.
After only three letters, the long distance affair ended. Sally had discovered a new playmate and Matt was devastated for all of 24 hours.
Recovering from the hangover following his “Dear John” party, Matt realized that he had never really loved Sally, only the pleasure of her body and companionship. He also discovered a sympathetic friend, Judy, who had suffered the same basic fate in her last romance and, over the next couple of years, he found several other sympathetic female friends with whom to share time. It was a glorious time of awakening, full of fun, excitement, love and learning.
Truly enjoying his assignment time on the Hancock, Matt was at first relegated to the lowliest jobs: bed pans, bed sores, eye cleaning, ear washings and cleaning up messes made by sick sailors. All the jobs that no one wanted were assigned to him as the lowest non-rated enlisted man in the sick bay. He attacked each chore with calmness and efficiency no matter how nasty it appeared and was promoted to corpsman/seaman in six months. One year later he was corpsman 3rd class.
Shortly after his promotion, Matt was called to Captain’s quarters to meet with his CO, Captain Kroger. After being ushered into the Captains lounge, a very nervous Matt sat waiting for his Commanding Officer to appear.
“Attention on deck” called out the boson mate assigned to CO quarters.
Jumping up so fast that his white hat fell to the floor, Matt almost forgot that sailors did not salute indoors and uncovered and instead, he stood rigidly as his ship’s Captain walked in.
“At ease, Petty officer Hightower. Pick up your cover and have a seat,” Captain Kroger said with a suppressed smile.
Still having no idea why he was here and feeling both silly and concerned, Matt did as he was told, picking up his white hat or cover as it was called and sat back on the couch albeit very stiffly as he awaited information as to why he’d been summoned to this almost forbidden place for enlisted men.
Not keeping him waiting the Captain began.
“Petty officer Hightower, I called you here because the Navy has seen fit to initiate a program that I believe has merit. After consulting with your superiors, I believe you are the corpsman from this ship’s allotment to fill the billet. If you are interested in becoming a medical doctor, the Navy is willing to help you follow that career.”
It seemed that the Navy was willing to take several young men to educate and make doctors out of if they appeared as career-oriented qualified candidates from the corpsman ranks. The offer was four years at Bethesda working a day shift in the Navy at Bethesda Hospital and full time in college. That would be followed by two years at med school and a final year on active duty at a naval medical hospital, whereupon he would finish with an MD and lieutenant’s bars.
Matt jumped at the chance, and a week later was enrolled at Bethesda. At age 26, he became Lieutenant Matthew Hightower, MD. With his commission as an officer came a transfer to the U.S. Naval Air Station, Pensacola Florida.
Then came Marilyn.
Matt loved the sandy, white beaches of the Florida gulf coast and spent as much time as he could on them, soaking in the warm sun’s rays and flirting with the numerous young ladies who lined the waterfront every weekend. His good looks contributed to his seeming good fortune with the other sex and he was thoroughly enjoying himself when he ran into the future mother of his children, Marilyn.
Strolling down the beach with the waves gently lapping at his feet, Matt was watching a seine boat surrounding a school of mullet about fifty yards off shore. As the men began to drag the net in and force the fish into the pocket in the center, the men themselves began backing up onto the beach. Matt was joined by several other onlookers, all focused on the scene before them. Backing away to allow the fishermen more room, Mat accidentally bumped into a girl he had not noticed before.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see you.”
“No problem,” she answered. “I didn’t see you either.”
Matt suddenly found himself stating into the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen. For the first time he could remember, he was at a total loss for words and he continued to stand there, just looking. Finally realizing how foolish he must look, Matt managed to stammer out a few words.
“My, my name is Matthew Hightower, Lieutenant Matthew Hightower.”
You idiot! Why did you say that! Now she must think you are not only a fool but an arrogant one at that!
“Why, pleased to meet you, lieutenant. My name is Marilyn Joyce. I’m from Fort Walden.” She hesitated. “And you must be one of those jet pilots stationed at the Naval Air Base.” She was smiling a crooked little smile that melted him and drew him even further into those beautiful eyes.
Right then, Matt couldn’t have told anyone what type bathing suit she was wearing, or even what color. As the Italians say, he was ‘thunderstruck’.
Dummy, dummy, dummy! You really set yourself up for that one. Now you can tell her you’re only a lowly doctor, not a fancy jet pilot. Dummy, dummy, dummy!
“No, I’m a doctor. I just examine those pilots, I don’t fly the planes. Look, I think I got off on the wrong foot and I’m sorry. Can we start over?”
Matt was almost pleading now, worried that she would get away and he would never see her again. All he knew was that somehow, she was the most appealing, woman he had ever met and he wanted to get to know her. For the first time in years, sex was the furthest thing from his mind.
Her eyes twinkled and she continued to gaze directly into his. “Sure. Would you prefer that I call you Mathew, Matt or lieutenant?”
Sensing that she was being playful but honest, Matt said, “Matt will do just fine, Marilyn.”
* * * *
They spent the rest of the day together, wandering up and down the beach, sitting in the sand and then taking a dip in the Gulf to rinse the sand off, all the while talking occasionally, touching. One time, Matt offered her his hand to help her up off the sand. When she stood up, she landed against him and they both stood there, looking, smiling and smelling the clean warm scent of each other.
Only too soon, the sun was setting and they both realized it was time to go. Their cars were parked within a block of each other and, after going to pick up her blanket and towel from where they were lying in the sand, Matt escorted Marilyn to her car. They were unusually silent, both feeling as though something fantastic had happened, something they did not want to let go. As she reached into the car and pulled out her cover-up shirt, Marilyn turned and looked straight into Matt’s eyes and they both melted into each other’s arms.
Their first kiss was loving and tender and seemed to last forever, only ending when they both felt like coming up for air.
“Wow.” Marilyn said,
“Wow back to you.” Matt never took his eyes off of her.
They stood, holding hands and totally content to just allow the feeling of togetherness to engulf them, neither one wanting to come back to reality.
Finally Matt said, “May I see you again, soon?”
“Would tomorrow afternoon, four o’clock be soon enough?” she replied.
“Right here?” He asked.
“I’ll be here.” Marilyn turned to get into her car.
Matt stood watching until she disappeared and reality finally set in. He began mentally kicking himself. What a dummy. I never got her address or even a phone number.
Later, when he climbed into his bed, he could still smell her clean aroma and taste the sweetness of her kiss. It took him two hours to fall asleep, and Marilyn was in his dreams all night long.
Matt was almost fifteen minutes late when he arrived back at the beach. Marilyn was already there wearing a different bathing suit and looking more beautiful then before. Taking a deep breath, Matt’s piercing gaze almost dissected her until she became uncomfortable and complained.
“Do I look that bad?” She followed with a mocking smile that brought him back to reality.
“Anything but.” He replied, finally regaining some of his normal poise.“ Actually, you’re the most beautiful girl on the beach.”
“And how would you know, Mr. Lieutenant. You only just got here and certainly have not surveyed the entire beach yet.”
“Don’t need to,” he retorted. “You’re already everything I consider beautiful and perfection needs neither comparisons nor improvements.”
‘’Well, at least the cat has let go of your tongue since yesterday, Matt.”
As they bantered about they both unconsciously moved closer and soon they were standing face to face, only inches apart.
“I missed you.” Mat said in a now husky voice.
“It seems silly, but I missed you too,” Marilyn replied.
As they stood here, rapt and beginning to lean even closer for the kiss they both knew was coming, a sea gull suddenly swooped down beside them, grabbed a left-behind French fry in his beak and emitted an ear piercing shriek as he took back to the air, almost hitting Marilyn’s legs in the process.
“Wow!” Matt cried in appreciation. “A perfect touch and go.” Obviously referring to carrier flight practice.
The spell was broken and they clasped each other’s hands and moved down to the beach at a comfortable stroll.
They spent the rest of the afternoon talking and getting to know one another, each becoming more infatuated with the other and neither trying to hide that fact. At dusk, they moved to a secluded spot among some sand dunes about a mile from where they were parked and sat on the towels, watching the sun go down.
“It looks like the sun is sinking right into the ocean,” Matt said in a husky, contented voice.
“I’m sorry,” she replied. “I really wasn’t looking at the sun just then.”
As Matt turned his head to look at her he felt her warm, sweet breath on his face. They were only inches apart and she was braced with one hand on the towel, leaning into him.
Dropping down on his left elbow, Matt put his right arm gently over her and scooted his body close to hers.
No words were spoken as they embraced, their bodies stretching out lengthways on the towels. Their kisses were soft and probing at first, but soon became more demanding as each of them fed off the desire of the other.
“God, you taste good,” Matt whispered as he momentarily removed his mouth from hers, bending his neck to allow him room to kiss her neck and shoulders.
“Whatever you do, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop,” Marilyn rasped, her voice becoming more hoarse and rushed as she plunged headlong into the flames of desire that were consuming them both.
They both almost ripped each others bathing suits off, so impassioned that they were trying to kiss and smell, touch and taste fondle and couple, all at the same time. Neither one of them was a virgin, but neither of them had ever had a moment like now as Matt entered her for the first time.
“Oh my God, I love you,” Matt panted as he rode wave after wave of the all-consuming fire of his passion.
“Love me, Matt. Love me now and love me forever as I am loving you,” Marilyn groaned back, too full of him and her own excitement to do more than shoot the words out in a rapid fire blurt of phrases.
Wrapping their arms and entwining their legs around each other, together they closed their eyes and rushed headlong into the climax of their endeavors as she met stab after stab of Matt’s hungry sex with her own, equally hungry thrusts.
“Oooh, oooh, ooooooooooh God” Marilyn cried out as she could hang on no longer and surrendered to her body’s final throes.
A prolonged grunt was Matt’s only verbal response as he was totally transfixed with a combination of love and lust until his body could no longer restrain its natural explosion.
CHAPTER TWO
Monday, 3: 00 pm
Lilly, Matt’s secretary, buzzed him on his intercom. He was in his office, going over the blueprints for the design of his next clinic.
“Doctor Hightower, there are some men here to see you. They are from the State Attorney’s office and there are several policemen with them.”
What the hell?
Matt opened the door to his office to see for himself what was going on.
“Doctor Matthew Hightower?” The man asking the question looked about 30 years old. He stood about 5 foot 8 inches tall, had dark hair, black eyes, a pockmarked face and was wearing a blatant sneer on his countenance.
Matt nodded. “Yes, I am Doctor Hightower.”
“Dr. Hightower, I’m Rupert Shimdugger from the State Attorney’s office. I have a warrant for your arrest. Will you come with me, please?”
“Are you out of your mind? I’m a doctor. I haven’t done anything. This must be some sort of sick joke. I have patients in this office. How dare you come in here like this?”
His face flaming red, Matt’s voice quivered as it rose higher and louder with each sentence.
“Doctor Hightower, I assure you this is no joke. Put your hands behind you, please.”
Dear God, this is crazy!
As Matt placed his hands behind his back, Shimdugger swiftly and expertly snapped the cuffs tightly in place, binding his arms and filling him with incomprehensible fear.
“You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court.”
“Do you understand your rights as I have explained them to you, doctor?”
My God!! These people are serious!
“I want my attorney,” Matt finally spoke. “This is outrageous.
As reality set in, Matt knew he needed help and Sam was the only one he could think of who might understand and help.
“Lilly, get Sam Rosen on the phone, right now! I don’t know what the hell is going on, but tell him these idiots have handcuffed me!”
Looking at Shimdugger, Matt asked: “Where are you taking me?”
“Well, first you will go to central booking. That is at the county jail facility on Orient Road. You will remain there until your arraignment. I’m sure your attorney will tell you all about it when he gets there. Now let’s go.”
The patients in Matt’s office watched in horror, stunned as he was paraded through his own waiting room and out the front door of his clinic.
One of the other doctors in Matt’s office ran up to Shimdugger and boldly questioned what was happening, only to be told to stand back and shut up or he would be arrested for interfering with an officer of the law in the performance of his duties.
Outside the clinic, three news crews from the local TV networks were rolling film and rushing forward with microphones. Obviously alerted in advance, this would be prime time news for tonight.
In response to their numerous questions, Matt merely kept repeating, “I don’t know, I don’t know.”
Shimdugger, however, obviously relished the attention. With Doctor Hightower in hand, he stopped for a minute and addressed the cameras.
“This arrest is the result of an investigation conducted over the last eight months by my office in cooperation with the Tampa Police Department and the Hillsborough County Sheriff’s office. Although I am not prepared to make a statement now, I will have one ready for you at my office in the Courthouse Annex at 5:00 pm. Now, if you will please excuse us…”
With that, Shimdugger bent Matt over and shoved him into the waiting vehicle.
Slamming the door shut, Shimdugger smiled as the police car pulled away with Matt in the back seat, badly shaken and confused.
* * * *
Just as Shimdugger had promised, Matt was booked into the Hillsborough County jail on Orient Road. Even though it was a new facility, it smelled and felt like what it was: a warehouse for the dregs of society.
As soon as Matt was in the booking area, the jailor took his shoes, belt, tie, gold chain and everything in his pockets. He was really startled when they also took his watch. When they confiscated his billfold they counted out his money in front of him, $368.42 with his pocket change added. A receipt for his money and all his belongings was placed in his pocket and then he was given a pair of flat canvas shoes. With his new shoes on, he was waved over to a section of chairs and told to wait until he heard his name called.
Looking around the room, he noted that it was a large place with at least fifty people sitting around in the cheap, classless colored, mock-leather easy chairs. Several of the women were obviously hookers and most of them seemed to know each other, as well as many of the male prisoners. Although the hookers were a mixed bunch, primarily black and white with a few Hispanics thrown in, the rest of the population was black and male.
Although raised in the south, race had never really played a role in Matt’s life as neither his family nor friends were prejudiced. Now, however, for the first time in his life, Matt was focusing on race. He was scared and felt as if he was suddenly thrust into the role of being a minority of one.
Along one far wall was a bank of cells for people who did not wish to behave. One of those prisoners was banging his head against the glass. From the sound of the banging and the lack of shattering, Matt knew it must be a very strong type of Plexiglas. As a doctor, he also knew the prisoner must have had a very hard head. Further down the same wall was a row of phones with signs designating them as available for collect calls only. Long lines of people stood waiting in front of each phone; some of them obviously coming down off drug induced highs and in serious need of a fix.
Matt quickly realized there was a system at work in documenting the prisoners. First one was called for the initial paperwork: name, address occupation, next of kin, etc. Then sit. Next, off to see a nurse for a health history, medical or medicinal requirements, etc. Then sit. Then photos, fingerprints, weight and height and on and on. Each time a person finished with one interview, he or she was sent to sit in an area of different colored chairs to await being called by the next deputy in line.
Finger printing was the final call-up, and from there Matt was sent to the central seating area. Cheap vinyl chairs and couches filled the large area. Three TV sets played cartoons and animal shows.
Nothing too challenging for the novitiates.
Off to his right Matt took notice. A large man appearing to be in his early twenties was playing with himself while fooling around with a small, hooker. Obviously aroused, the man’s head was literally glossy with the small bits of sweat shining off the ebony sheen of his shaved head. He kept reaching over to the girl, patting her breast and running his hand up under short blossomy skirt. The pale whiteness of her skin was even more vivid when contrasted with the darkness of his huge hand as it slid over and in between her small thighs. With only a T shirt and sweat pants, it was obvious that there was nothing else to contain his ever-growing erection. She continued to push his hand away while he continued to stroke himself, totally unconcerned with anyone else who may be watching.
By now, things were surreal to Matt. It was as if he were watching everyone, himself included, from high above. He was only an observer, none of this was really happening to him.
Two and a half hours later he was called up to the front and then taken into a visitation room. It was a small room, cut in half with a desktop and Plexiglas dividing each section. A door at either end of the room provided access from each side. A round hole covered with metal mesh was fitted in the center of the glass so that sound would carry through. Matt’s attorney, Sam Rosen, and another man Matt dimly recognized were waiting on the other side of the desk. There were two chairs on the visitor’s side, one on Matt’s side.
“Matt, I got here as soon as I could.” Sam began. “After I called the State Attorney’s office and talked with that prick, Shimdugger, I realized that this was way over my head. I’m not a criminal defense lawyer.”
Turning to the man on his right, Sam said, “This is Bernie Cohen, one of the best criminal defense lawyers in the state. Bernie, meet Matthew Hightower; Doctor Matthew Hightower to be exact.”
“Glad to meet you, Doctor Hightower, although I’m sure we both wish it was a meeting under different circumstances. How are they treating you so far?”
“OK I guess. This whole thing is a complete shock to me. So far, no one has beaten me with a rubber hose or anything,” Matt said with a forced smile.
“Yes, well—”
“When do I get out? Matt interrupted. “And, what the hell is going on, anyway? This is crazy. I’m no criminal. There has to be a mistake. How soon can you get me out?”
“Easy Doc. One question at a time. First, you will have to stay here overnight. You’ve been booked in and can’t be released until arraignment. Normally this is pre-arranged and no stay is necessary with someone of your stature in the community. However, Shimdugger wanted to make some press on this one. Must be considering running for State Attorney next election,” Bernie said.
“Tomorrow morning you will be called up in front of Judge Hendry. He will set the bond for your release. We will ask for you to be ROR’d, released on your own recognizance, but with the number of counts you are charged with, I doubt he will go for that. This means you better be ready to come up with some money.”
“After the bond is set you will be brought back here to wait until the bondsman gets here and posts the bond. Then you will be free to go home. You with me so far, Doc?”
Dazed, as if in a dream, Matt nodded. Then he asked, “How much is all this going to cost me?”
“At this point I’m not sure of the bond amount. With 150 counts of trafficking in narcotics we’ll be lucky to get you out with a $1,000,000.00 bond. That will cost you $100,000.00 cash and a note against property to secure the remainder.”
“My fees are $50,000.00 now and another $250,000.00 within thirty days. Are you going to be able to take care of all this?”
$400,000.00! Almost half a million dollars. For drug trafficking! I know nothing about illegal drugs!
“This is crazy,” Matt said. “I don’t do illegal drugs! I don’t sell them! I have nothing whatsoever to do with illegal drugs! Something is terribly wrong. I can come up with the money, although it will hurt, but I don’t understand any of this.”
“Doc, it’s not about illegal drugs. It’s trafficking in narcotics. Legal narcotics, illegal prescriptions,” Bernie said. “Shimdugger is tight lipped about all this right now, but between his press conference tonight and my contacts in his office, I will know a lot more tomorrow.”
Matt looked at Sam. “Sam, please get hold of Jessie Lord, my bookkeeper. Ask him to write a check to Bernie for $50,000.00. I’ll have to countersign it, so just bring it with you to the hearing in the morning. You will be there, won’t you?”
“Sure Matt. I’ll be there. You know I will help you any way I can.”
“Also, have him cut you a blank check on our Nation’s line of credit account. I’ll fill it in and sign it when the Judge sets the bond amount.”
“You may have to work fast on that, Matt. It’s been my experience that when charges like this are filed, credit dries up in a hurry.” Bernie said.
Looking at Sam, Matt said, “Have him find out what is available, and if there is not enough, I can get the rest from our money market accounts. Those are in my and Marilyn’s names. If it is necessary to use them, have him get the paperwork for my signature and have it standing by.”
“I’ll take care of it for you,” Sam promised.
Bernie spoke up. “You will be able to make collect calls tonight, so you can call your wife. It’s much easier to make calls once you get to your pod. Here in this facility the cells are all in pods, with access to phones for several hours each evening. Be careful on the phone. Do not say anything on the phone that you wouldn’t want repeated to the Judge.”
“From now on, you say nothing to anyone about this case. I mean anyone, and I mean nothing! Unless I am with you, keep your mouth shut about this case or anything pertaining to your practice. At this point and until this is all over, I will do all the talking. It is very important that you follow me on this. You understand?”
“That’s why I’m hiring you, counselor. I understand.”
“As I explained earlier, you will be in a pod of cells; usually two men to a cell. The temptation to talk, to ask questions, to deny guilt, etc., all of that becomes overwhelming at times. You must not give in to these temptations. Some of the worst outcomes I have ever experienced occurred when a cellmate of a client turned state’s evidence and repeated what he was told in the cell. Usually, it is embellished to impress the state in order to elicit a better deal. I don’t want to see that happen in this case. Shimdugger is already salivating and you can bet he or his investigator will interrogate anyone who has contact with you. Mum is the word. OK?”
“Yes. OK. God, this is all foreign to me. Like a dream. I keep expecting to wake up and it will be over. I keep thinking this must be happening to someone else, not me. Surely, not me.” Matt was looking down, shaking his head. His eyes were moist.
“Keep the faith, Doc. We haven’t seen their hole cards yet,” Bernie said.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Sam asked.
“Not that I can think of,” Matt replied. “Just please tell Marilyn that I’m OK and I’ll call her tonight.”
“All right, I’ll see you in the morning.”
As they all stood up, Matt automatically raised his hand as if to shake hands. Then he realized, he couldn’t shake hands through the Plexiglas.
When Bernie and Sam walked out, Matt was still standing there, looking at his unshaken hand, wondering what the hell was wrong, and feeling more scared then he had ever felt in his life.
* * * *
Five minutes later, a deputy took Matt back to the main booking area where he was forced to strip naked and submit to a full search. Although Matt had viewed and palpated many naked bodies in his practice, he had never felt so degraded as when the guards had him lift his testicles, cough, turn around and bend over and ‘spread his cheeks’ for them. Finally, he was issued a pair of boxer shorts, tee shirt and a blue jump suit. He was given another receipt for his clothes and fitted with a plastic bracelet, much like the ones used in hospitals, with his name and number easily readable through the clear surface.
Matt was then escorted in handcuffs down a long corridor to the entrance of another corridor marked ‘A’. From there he and the two guards proceeded to the end where three sets of solid steel, double locked double doors marked the pod areas where he was taken through the double doors on the left into a large, open two-story room. Both the upstairs and downstairs walls were lined with doors. Two seating areas were arranged downstairs, each with its own T.V. set. The top floor had a railed walkway around it and was completely visible from the first floor. Matt noticed large metal mirrors spaced around so that every cell door and every inch of space could be seen from the guard station just inside the entrance. TV cameras placed several different views in front of the guard at all times.
To his left, Matt saw a courtyard outside a pair of large glass doors. The courtyard was surrounded by walls and the pod entrance, with no access to any outer areas. Even the top of the courtyard was covered with heavy wire mesh, filtering any light that came in from the sky. A single basketball net hung against the far wall and he saw that the entire courtyard was about a third the size of a regular basketball court.
Looking back inside, Matt spotted several tables and chairs scattered about, apparently for card playing, games or just talking. To his right was a built-in desk with a raised shelf around it, kind of like a breakfast bar in a kitchen. This was the guard station with the T.V. screens, phones, supply cabinets and other paraphernalia necessary for the officer to do his job. Several switches, which apparently controlled the individual doors, as well as master switches for each floor, were visible at the rear of the station.
Turned over to the cell guard at the desk by the admitting officer, Matt was given a full jail allowance.
“Inmate Hightower, you are now responsible for your gear.”
As Matt collected them, the guard counted out and handed him his gear, along with a strong lecture.
“You have here, one bed roll, one tooth brush, one tooth paste, one towel and a roll of shit paper. Keep your eyes on them. They will not be replaced if you loose them. Now, in addition to all these goodies, you need to know I will not tolerate unnecessary noise for any reason. Noise will get you in lots of trouble, understand, inmate?”
Nodding his head, Matt listened as the guard continued.
“I am aware that you are a doctor and I hope that you get through this in good shape, but while you are in here, as I just said, you are an inmate. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes.”
“I also expect you to listen to and obey orders from myself and the other guards as well. Once again, do you understand?”
Nodding again, Matt drew a response from the guard.
“This place is only as rough as you make it, unlike the State Prison System. Politeness and an answer instead of a nod will take you a lot farther than disrespect. You are assigned to room number fourteen, a bottom cell and you have the honor of getting the lower bunk for the rest of your stay in our lovely inn. Your room door locks are electronically controlled by me and I open them after each count. Your door will remain open until I send you back to your room for the next count. If you manage to close the door during the open period, it will remain locked. If and only if you can prove it was shut by accident and not your fault, I might open it for you; if I feel like it and have time.”
It was essentially Matt’s responsibility to ensure the cell remained open and to be careful about the lock.