THE PLOY

In the ensuing days, one sexual crime after another showed up in the county.  A ploy to take the attention off the Sheriff.  Sex crimes are shockers.  People can't believe humans treat one another.  Thus the focus changes.

A clever reporter/journalist saw this.  Waiting.  Wondering what the Sheriff would do, as he was not one to be anything but a champion, the newspaper man kept probing.

Then it happened.  A muffled phone call.

"I'm sorry that I must distort my voice.   Somebody.  Someone has to hear what is going on. He's a megalomaniac.  This is the tip of the iceberg.  What I will tell you is this.  He plants this stuff. Goes after innocent people, shady people, people with a past.  They don't have the money to defend themselves.  Everyone likes a good sex crime.  Especially involving children.  I am not saying these people aren't guilty; I am saying he is setting people up."

"Look we all have jobs, families, children.  No one, not a soul in the Department will talk.  Tighter than a *%#!'s butt." 

The journalistic wanted more information.

"Will anyone else document this?"

"I'll try to talk to some of the guys.  There is this woman, she's not a guy.  You know what I mean.  Cops are tight with one another.  They don't break rank."

"But he has been after her.  She is fed up.  Single mother."

"Okay, let's do this.  Talk to your contacts, see who wants to see justice prevail.  Get back to me."

Next Up

Again the jury was seated.

The Prosecutor called to the stand, a lovely, petite woman.

"Tell the jury exactly what happened when you encountered a checkpoint from the officers."

"I was driving home from the gym along South River Road.  I saw several Sheriff's Deputy cars and about a dozen police officers.  There were two or three officers wearing SWAT-like attire, not the ones our Jackson County Deputies wear.  They were off by another car.

I was asked for my license and registration.  Then I asked them a question.  I asked why I was being stopped.  The officer said, "we are looking for illegal Mexicans who travel this route.  They do that so they will not be caught."

Immediately the defense attorney jumped up.

"Who said that to you?  Is he in the courtroom now?"

I pointed to the large, portly officer in the back.

"That's him.   He was there with another officer."

Several Latinos were sworn in to the Witness Stand.  There stories were wholly different.

Not Your Regular Columbo

It was good to be off jury for the weekend.  Everyone needed a break.  The Sheriff, not one to let things go was furious.  Even his top tier were looking out for him.  In the unlikely case that he may get off.  They wanted to ensure they had jobs.

It was a hot weekend for sure.  Hotter than this time of year, even in a period of unseasonable weather.  No one knew what to expect.  It would rain one  day, then dry, then rain.  It went on for months. 

The weather mirrored how the town was feeling.  Uncertain.  Concerned. 

The reporter who broke the story, Thoreau, had everyone talking.  Not one to back down.  Especially when an elected official was snickering at everyone.  Even grew himself a huge raise, in a time when no one was getting one.  Arrogance. Pure arrogance.

Thoreau was driving his VW Beetle through town.  Bright yellow.  A Caribbean kind of fellow, not what you would expect in a reporter.  Breezy and bright.  He knew his facts.  And worked hard to tell the truth.  Nothing but the truth.

The VW was turning down a country road when Thoreau looked off his right shoulder and saw an officer tailing him. He blew it off.  But what he didn't know was that the American Civil Liberties Union had hired someone to follow him.  More importantly, to see if he was being followed.  They weren't going to let this elected official, a downright arrogant crook get away with one more thing. 

Emerson was a retired detective. Volunteered from time to time in causes he believed in.  He believed in Thoreau.  The reporter wouldn't know for months that they were looking out for him.  That is, until the jury sat again.

The Jury Reseats

"Sheriff, there were quite a number of e-mails between you and your higher ranking officers, is that true?"

"Sir, can you define e-mail?"

"An electronic device which goes over the internet," the prosecutor replied.

"I do use e-mail at work."

"Sheriff, once again, did you send e-mails to your higher ranking officers, to your staff regarding the incident leading up to and beyond the detainment of fifteen Latinos on your seat belt checkpoint along the T River?"

"I object to badgering the witness,"  the defense attorney replied.

"Please answer the question," the Judge said.

"I did," the Sheriff said in a whisper.

You could hear a pin drop in the courtroom.

"Did you write an e-mail to your Chief Deputy on your personal e-mail account?"

"I did."

"Are you aware of the Records Retention and Disposition Schedule for County Sheriff’s Offices,?"

"Yes."

"According to this document you signed off as being aware of this state policy almost four years ago," he says displaying the document for the Judge.

"Please enter this as People's Exhibit One,"

"Knowing this, having signed off on this statute, are you telling the court these state mandated documents are now missing?"

"Well, someone isn't doing their job," the Sheriff said.

Smiles filled the courtroom.  All eyes were focused on the Sheriff.

"You can be excused."

"The Court will be in recess until 9:30 a.m. tomorrow.  Sheriff, your office is to have a backlog on my desk when court convenes.  Defense,  please request these documents from the appropriate internet carrier be here by opening of court in the morning.  Failure to do so will mean the Sheriff will be held  in contempt of court.  If we do not have these documents, you will be held in a  Federal jail until the documents are made available.  My court will not, under any circumstances tolerate missing documents, " the Judge said.

"Court dismissed until 9:30 a.m. tomorrow."

To Defend And Serve

The front page said it all, "Sheriff Stripped Of Duties." Returns to civilian life.  Pension in question.

Slowly people began to speak.  The ACLU could hardly contain them in the small room in the Courthouse.

"You, too? she asked.

"Which count is this?"

There were three lines with signs indicating the count.

Count One:  Misuse of seized goods.
Count Two:  Misuse of public office in racial profiling
                    Includes search without proper documentation
Count Three:Failure to execute duties assigned by Commissioners

"Yea, gads.  I need to be in several lines.  He stole my motorcycle, pulled me over harassing me. No charge, just pulled me over.  I am a physician, what the h?"

"I applied for an alcohol permit.  I didn't go to his church.  There ya have it," the well dressed man said.

There were over a hundred people.  The room was full and the line went down the hall. People were ecstatic The Mountain View told the story.  It was time.

Nearly every restaurant was full.  People were talking to one another.  It was like the floodgates were opened.  They could breathe fresh air.  They didn't realize how traumatized they had been.

It was in part, because the responsible newspaper mentioned that people needed to come forward.  They gave contact names and phone numbers.  

The ACLU would spend two weeks in town.  For starters.  This was a case that was priority one. Even the officers spoke up.

We signed up, went to the academy because we wanted a job in which we could be proud, we wanted to "defend and serve."

In Concert

After the recess, the Judge decided to reconvene at 9 a.m. Monday morning.  The defense attorney, clearly, overwrought, said he needed more time.  That worked for me.  There was a concert later in town and I was ready to chill out and enjoy it.

The benches there are not especially comfortable.  I suspect the point of their design is to move people along.  Just as I was about to get comfortable, a lovely lady and her friend put a blanket down so that the three of us would be more comfortable.

We chatted a bit, they were especially friendly; their energy amazingly clear.  We shared our histories a bit, past jobs etc. Then the one sitting next to me told me about her work.

"Hmm, what kind of readings do you do?"

"Evolutionary astrology," she said.

For the next hour or so, the three of us, Portia with her long,  strawberry blond hair and Ima,the auburn haired lady and I became fast friends.

"Things are speeding up fast," the auburn woman from Florida said.

"I found the Venus transit, personally unsettling, but in a good way.  Things are coming out in the open," I said.

"And that will continue.  Relationships with a variety of people are changing, I am changing, more open to spending time with evolved people, people who really get it.  Seeing through people in a healthier way, no judgment on them, but more about where I am heading."

"There is a lot of clarity in you," Ima remarked.

The concert was coming to a close and I needed to get home.  The following day, e-mails were exchanged.  Ina and Portia wrote me the loveliest note:

"We are certain we will meet again!"

Red, white and blue

Red, white and blue.  Red if you look to the lower right of the bird bath.  These colors stand for something.  Honor.  Integrity.  Justice.

I thought about the blue hyacinths as I took my morning stroll through the gardens. The beauty, the simplicity.  Do the hyacinths know the daffodils are different?  Do toddlers of different cultures see a difference among them.  I think they see potential friends.

Nature is cooperative.  Naturally.  What would our world look like if humans did the same?  As I poured my iced morning coffee, half and half first, then coffee, I thought about the courtroom. The officers who knew better and who followed their totalitarian boss.  An elected official, no less.  Elected by people with high standards.What must they think now?

The judge took his post above the room.  That has always bothered me.  A judge should be among the people, not higher than physically. Given this, how could we expect society to cooperate.

The plantiff's attorney called me first.  I didn't want to be here but in order to have a society that is just, we  all have to do our part.  Apathy has no place. Apparently nor did warmth in this courtroom.

The dark suited attorney move toward the witness box.

"Please tell me what happened when you were pulled over."

"The officers came toward my car, three of them, one asked for my license and registration.  They didn't even look at it. The other officers were looking around. My seatbelt was on."

"How did you know they were searching for illegals?"

"I asked one of them why I was stopped.  He said they were looking for illegal Mexicans who drive this route.  So they could catch them and turn them over to immigration authories," I said.

The Judge called for the next witness.

A slender dark suited man approached the witness box, swaying from side to side to query an officer.


"Officer, how do you determine who is legal or not?"

"We look for ID, if they appear nervous, and ask for proof of legal residency or immigration."

"So, are you looking for anyone in particular?"

The officer wiggled in his seat.  Sat straight up, shoulders back.

"Sir, we were told to look for illegal Mexicans."

A hush filled the courtroom.

The Judge brushed his hair to the side.

"Let's have a fifteen minute morning recess."

The courtroom was cleared.

¿Puedo ver su licencia y registro?

She had grown weary of the malaise overtaking the country.  What she perceived as the lacking of personal reservoirs.  That people allowed corruption, dishonesty to become a way of life.  That they were so needy and devoid of true identity - their selves. 

While she understood most compassionately the human condition, clearly she saw it in herself, and she knew what she must do.  Get out of their heads and into her own.

Most particularly, what was occurring in her town troubled her. That people waited so long to stand up. 

It was a spectacular fall morning when the trial got underway.  The courtroom was full of spectators. 

"Counsel, will you approach the bench?" the judge asked.

"This is a delicate case, a public official.  There is a lot riding on this however it turns out."

The judge instructed the prosecutor to call his first witness.

"As you know, this is a case to determine if there was any wrongdoing, any racial profiling." 

"Yes, sir," The Captain said.

"Were you instructed to pull over a specific race under the pretense of looking for illegal Mexicans?

"I object, leading the witness," cried the defense attorney.

"Let me rephrase the question.  Can you tell me what the instructions were on March 12, 2012 regarding license and registration check?"

"We were told to check everyone for a current license and registration and to look for illegal Mexicans."

"How did you go about ascertaining who was illegal and who was a resident?"

Stripped OR Stripes?

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Both actually.  The citizens were tired of the arrogance.

"We heard he didn't get along with others at the college, though he sure fooled us the first or second year in office. 

Then the arrogance was fully blown.  He didn't return calls, blew off complaints he didn't think important.  It was his fiefdom and he made sure you knew.

When a local newspaper investigated the story, people began to talk.  They met in the library, the bar, cafes and bakeries.  Even on the street.  They had had enough.  Of course, they had seen it in Washington and on Wall Street.  This wasn't going to happen in their town.

That he got himself a high raise in an economic downturn, when his staff hadn't even had a merit raise in three years told the story.

The District Attorney, encouraged by the citizens who encouraged their senator and house of representatives contact, along with the American Civil Liberties Union made this a slam dunk.

As one department head reminded a few people this morning, "You get the kind of society equal to your efforts.  Don't blame it on me.  I am just doing what I am told."

Who's Next?

"You see, we have a list of people who were stopped. That day by the river.  You know, because we were told to look for illegals.  We told residents that.  Hoping someone would stand up. Now they did."

His voice softened to a nearly inaudible whisper.

"The henchman is on the warpath. He wants to get to people before they..."

"Talk?"

"Yes."

"The American Civil Liberties people are looking for witnesses.  A few of the officers came forward wrote down license plates of the folks they stopped.  Your plate came up.  Hey, you don't know me out of uniform but I was one of the ones, forced to stop cars.  This is huge and it isn't just this scenario.  There is more.  A whole lot more. Just watch your back." 

"Lord.  This is ridiculous.  Where did I move to?"

"Okay, just wanted to tell you about it.  So's you'd know."

"I guess thanks.  Yes, thank you for this.  An innocent bystander. Again."

"Listen, he is more than the henchman.  Evil s.o.b.  people are terrified of him, losing their jobs in an economy risky like this. Some are gonna talk.  Again, wanted you to know."

"Martin, take care of you.  Justice will prevail...whether it is in the courts or in karma. It is the Laws of Physics."

"Dang, profiling,"he said.  "Nobody likes it. It is just plain wrong!  Next time it could you YOU or me!"

Thanks, Martin

She was surprised to see the package on the doorstep to the cabin.  After all, she was renting the place and no one...nearly no one knew she was here.

"Who leaves a bonsai outside?  Not in this weather," she thought.

There was an uneasy feeling about this.  She wondered.

The phone rang and it was her friend waiting to go sailing.  She hadn't sailed in years but he was a good teacher.

"Hon, ya ready? I'm about ten minutes away.  I have everything packed and the wind is good."

"Just about.  Did you send me an azalea plant, bonsai?"

"No."

She thought it odd to have an unexpected gift.  Just under the soil she saw a note encased in plastic.

"I saw you at the docks and we need to talk.  You don't know me, but you're being followed.  Let me explain.  I'll be in the Morgan just next to your boat. Blue Dartmouth cap.  Waiting. Thanks, Martin."

She loved living along the seacoast.  The air, the people. So full of life; so many interests.  Like her.  Still, she was uneasy.

She got to the docks looking charily about. Who was this Martin?   A slender, blond man appeared from no where.

"Thanks for coming.  This will just take a second."