by Lee McIntyre
“No,” Adam answered. “But we think that what happened to my daughter might be related to what’s been happening to the Indian kids. You said last time that a lot of you had been talking at council. Can we talk to some of the other people?”
“Council is only for members of the tribe,” Edward said. “But this is important. Let me see what I can do.”
“When?” Adam said.
“Whenever we say. This sounds like a good enough reason to have council tonight.”
Adam nodded at Tugg, who had pushed his empty plate away.
“Better let me drive over and talk to some folks,” Edward said, standing up. “We arrange these face to face. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Okay,” Adam said. “You want us to come back?”
“No.Better pull your motorcycles behind the garage. You two can wait in my room in back. Rest for a while. But you need to stay out of sight.”
“Why?” Adam asked, already knowing the answer.
Edward nudged his head toward the television. “No state cops on the reservation, but best to be safe anyway. A jacket and a motorcycle can only hide so much.”
Chapter 44
Whatever stereotypical images Adam might have harbored about what an Indian council meeting might look like were shattered the instant he entered the room. There was no peace pipe. Just a hundred or so chairs in a rough semi-circle around a table in a dilapidated school auditorium. It could have been a PTA meeting in any town in America.
The faces of the inhabitants, however, told a different story. Adam didn’t see a smile among them. Old men in jean jackets and women with young kids sat stiffly in their chairs, staring at him and Tugg. Adam heard none of the friendly small talk one might expect amongst people who knew one another so well, or any welcoming gestures from the community. Instead, these looked like people waiting to hear a jury verdict.
Whatever Edward had said about the purpose of the meeting, clearly this wasn’t normal. A couple of kids stared at Tugg with wide-eyed interest, then disappeared behind a man Adam took to be their grandfather.
Edward was sitting in one of the chairs at the table, next to another man. Was that the chief? Handsome and thickly muscled, he had obsidian black hair pulled straight back from his face. Too young to be any sort of “elder,” he was nonetheless clearly in charge. He wore a brown jacket and matching pants that didn’t look like they were trying to be a suit. His snakeskin boots gleamed against the dull floor.
“I’m Tommy. Council tonight was called by Edward. He brought some visitors who have some information about the foster care situation here on the reservation. Edward, introduce them, please.”
Edward stood. Adam could tell that Edward must be a man of great standing within the community. All eyes were upon him.
“These men are named Adam and Tugg. They’re from Portland. Adam’s daughter was taken by social services a few weeks ago. These are good men.”
Edward sat down and the crowd’s gaze turned to Adam and Tugg.
Was that it? After an awkward silence, Adam jumped in.
“I’m sorry, but we don’t actually have any new information about the reason for the abductions from social services. We have our suspicions, but we’re here to learn from you. Maybe we can help one another. Can someone tell us what’s been happening here? Edward told us a bit, but I wonder if someone can tell us what you think is behind all this?”
After a brief silence, there was a tiny voice.
“It’s the governor and his greed.”
All eyes turned to the back row, where Adam spied a young woman holding a baby. Next to her was a man about Edward’s age, worrying his hands on a wooden cane.
After another silence, Adam said, “Edward told us that you were suspicious about the governor. But can someone fill us in? Why would he specifically be coming after your children here on the reservation? And if he is doing that, I wonder how my daughter fits in?”
When no one spoke, Adam looked at Tugg, who just shook his head.
They looked at Tommy, who just stared blankly back at them.
Edward stood.
“These are good men. They drove all the way to Salem to see if Hinney’s grandsons were still at The Longlane Home, then they drove all the way back to tell me they were adopted. He’s looking for his daughter. We need to help them.”
Adam watched the crowd fidget. The man with the cane started to tear up and his daughter put her hand on his shoulder. Everyone looked around. Finally a beautiful woman about 35 years old walked over to the table and spoke.
“My name is Tulie Price and I’m a child welfare worker for the reservation. How much do you already know?”
Adam took over. “Ms.Price, thank you. Just treat us as if we don’t know anything. Please start at the beginning. Once we know what you know, we’ll be happy to share our story and answer any questions. Is that all right?”
Tulie nodded and put her hand on Edward’s shoulder. "Some of this was in the newspaper a few years back, but I’m going to tell it all again, from our perspective. When he was Lieutenant Governor, our current Governor was also the Executive Director of The Longlane Home, which is the largest foster care business in the state of Oregon. Most people thought that was okay, because the Lieutenant Governor’s position was part-time and had just been newly created by the state legislature. It paid no income and carried no duties. It existed only as a governor-in-waiting just in case the current governor died or resigned unexpectedly, so there was no perceived conflict of interest. Lots of states have this kind of system.
“Of course then, as we all know, Governor Gibbard died unexpectedly. At that point, Lieutenant Governor Halliday resigned from his position at The Longlane Home and assumed the governorship. That’s when all of the changes started for us. Everybody knows that the governor inherited a huge state budget deficit. The Longlane Home started to get all of these no-bid state contracts for foster care. When the kids flooded in, so did a tide of federal money, some of which went to the deficit and some of which got filtered to The Longlane Home.”
Adam didn’t know whether it was appropriate, but he raised his hand anyway.
“Yes?” Tulie said.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’d like to ask a question, if that’s all right.”
Edward jumped in. “Adam, you can just go ahead. We don’t have any false politeness here because we don’t need any. When you actually respect someone, it’s okay to be blunt.”
Tulie nodded and gave the smallest glimpse of a smile.
“Okay, then let me play devil’s advocate for a moment,” Adam said. “I can see where this is going, but the governor’s ties to The Longlane Home were in all of the newspapers when he assumed office. It was investigated. Everybody knew that there might be a conflict of interest, which was why he resigned from The Longlane Home and stepped down from its board. They said he put all his assets in a blind trust.”
Someone snorted.
“Don’t you think it’s a little weird that all of these kids started going to foster care right after he assumed office?” Tulie asked. Apparently bluntness cut both ways.
“Yes, sure,” Adam said. “But lots of people said it was because he was an expert on child welfare issues and this was a long-neglected area of state government. It made sense that he would attend to it.”
Tugg came to life. “Yeah, but then why would so many of the kids just happen to be Indian? I guess this is a question for both of you. Adam, if he was just fixing a deferred problem, why did so much of it fall on the reservations? But Tulie, if he was just trying to fix the state’s financial problems, why would he have it in for the Indians?”
A murmur went through the room.
Tulie cleared her throat and continued. "This is where we got burned before. For the newspapers, it wasn’t enough that 50% of the kids who were taken were Indians. They thought they could explain that by looking around here. You rob the bank because that’s where the money is. In some ways
they blamed us. The foster care problem was largely an Indian problem, everyone thought, because look at how we live. Everyone was too polite to say it outright, but that’s what they thought. It was the same b.s. they did to us back before the Indian Child Welfare Act was passed. Since then, the foster placements are supposed to be within the tribe.
“But right now, we have qualified Indian foster parents who have never been contacted for a placement. Did they put that in the papers? No.So they did have it in for us, didn’t they? They violated federal law by making most of the Indian kid placements in group homes like The Longlane Home, rather than within our own community.”
“So it’s racism,” said Adam.
“Our whole history has been due to racism,” Tulie said. “But that’s too easy. This smelled like something more. We got suspicious about the financial angle and started to do our own digging. This time we didn’t rely on the newspapers. We wondered not only why so many Indian kids were going into foster care, but why they weren’t going to Indian foster homes. Why would the state so brazenly violate the ICWA? And why were so many of the placements made to The Longlane Home?”
Adam was on the edge of his seat, but he could see that everyone else in the room except him and Tugg must already know the answer. Edward was looking at him as if in apology, nodding.
“We found out that under the federal reimbursement formula to the states, any foster child with a special needs designation got a payment that was four times the regular amount. And then we found out that someone in the state house had designated ALL Indian children in Oregon as special needs!”
Adam heard a couple of righteous interjections from the crowd.
His head was reeling. All of them special needs? As if being Native American were somehow a handicap?
Adam was pissed. He could see why all of those in the crowd around him were so upset, too. But a tiny piece of him died when he heard this, because if all of this were true, how could it explain why Emma was taken?
“That’s when it happened,” Tulie continued. “The Indian kids started disappearing overnight. They sent in whole teams of social workers from Portland and Salem. They didn’t use our social workers and they didn’t make placements with our own foster families. The same thing happened at the reservations in Warm Springs, Umatilla, Paiute, and Grande Ronde. Most of the kids went to The Longlane Home. And they haven’t come back.”
Adam felt sick. This might not be related to Emma, but it was one of the biggest injustices he’d ever heard of. A system that corrupt might involve other abuses that could explain what had happened to Emma. Didn’t Wanda say that they had taken a spate of white kids from the suburbs? First it was the Indians, then it was the rich kids. Maybe there was a connection.
“So the Governor is dirty,” said Tugg.
“Yes,” said Tulie. “We think he’s making a profit from this. He’s at least using the Indian kids to balance the state budget deficit. But then there’s the question of why so many of the kids are going to The Longlane Home, rather than to Indian or even white foster families. The state gets its cut either way. But the rest of the payment goes to the group home or to the family that actually does the care. So it’s got to be the money. They’re going to The Longlane Home because that’s where the governor has his financial ties.”
“Can you prove this?” Tugg said.
"No, but it’s probably still true. Maybe the trust isn’t as blind as everyone thinks. Remember the 2012 presidential election? Everyone said that Romney had a blind trust, he wasn’t involved in the day-to-day affairs at Bain Capital. Then it came out after the election that if he’d won he still would have been receiving Bain money in his blind trust, even if he wasn’t directing the company.
“There’s blind and then there’s dumb. Halliday’s still got a pension coming from The Longlane Home. He’s not an idiot. And who’s managing the trust?”
Edward stood up again. “This is what I was afraid to tell you two the other day. We haven’t told anyone else about this. We don’t trust the government and we don’t trust the newspapers. If we handle this wrong, who knows what they could do to us? Take the rest of our kids?”
Adam fell back in his seat, while Tugg sat shaking his head. “My God,” Tugg said. “How can we help you?”
“How can we help you?” said the woman with the baby. “You know who I am right? Thank you for looking for my sons. You said that his daughter was taken too. Is she Indian?”
Adam shook his head.
“Is she special needs?”
Adam shook his head again.
Hinney’s daughter frowned in thought.
For the first time, Tommy spoke. “We all trust one another now. That’s a big first step. Maybe we can learn something from your story.”
“I’m sorry, I’ve got nothing,” Adam said. “My daughter was taken when our nanny made a false report about child abuse. As I said, Emma is white and she’s not special needs. We think they put her with a foster family, then they put her in protective custody. One thing we know for sure is that she’s not at The Longlane Home. We checked.”
“Could they be making money off her in a different way?” Tulie asked.
Adam shook his head again. “I don’t see how. Nothing beyond the regular reimbursement, anyway. We know someone from CPS who said that there have been a lot of removals lately from suburban white families. That’ll cause a firestorm of publicity. If there’s a river of money flowing in from federal reimbursements, the last thing they’d want would be publicity. Why kill the golden goose?”
“Maybe you could go ask your friend again,” Tommy said.
“It’s worth a try,” Tugg said, turning to Adam. “We could at least bring the motorcycles and the jacket back.”
Adam’s jaw tightened.
“Be careful,” said a woman in the back. “Keep to back roads, so the police don’t find you. Well, the state police anyway.”
For some reason, everyone turned to Tommy.
“I’m a sheriff with the reservation police,” he said. “I don’t work for the Oregon State Police or any other municipality. I work for the tribe.”
A few people smiled.
“You can come back here if you need to,” Hinney said. “We’re a better sanctuary than a church even.”
Adam turned around to thank him and a few people smiled warmly.
“What happens on the reservation stays on the reservation?” Tugg asked.
“Just about right,” Tommy said. “Most white people don’t know the half of it.”
A chuckle passed through the crowd.
“Just like that free food,” Edward said, grinning from ear to ear.
Chapter 45
Adam and Tugg sat in the last booth of the Denny’s, near the restrooms. Tugg had his customary spot — back to the wall, eyes on the door — while Adam was still making love to his pancakes.
Edward was a fine man, but damn. Sometimes you just needed to eat food that was hot all at once. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice, and a side of fruit salad. Adam would have licked the plate if no one were watching.
The place was jumping. First restaurant outside the reservation made it feel like the Capital Grille.
Adam drained the rest of his juice and looked at Tugg. Neither had spoken much since the council meeting last night, probably because both were thinking the same thing. Maybe the two cases were connected. It was all beginning to make sense now.
When they got back to the clubhouse, they could ask Wanda for her thoughts and share what they’d learned. Why would the Governor want to create false abuse charges against suburban families when he was trying to avoid publicity for what amounted to false removal of Indian kids into the foster care system?
Tugg finally looked at Adam.
“Only about a hundred miles to go, right?” Adam said, wiping the plate with his toast. “Then this biker thing will be over.”
“Yeah, this biker thing. You done?”
“Almost.�
�
“Okay, let me hit the head —”
Tugg got up and disappeared into the bathroom, while Adam put his hand up to wave the waitress over with the check.
Like a shadow over his shoulder, Adam could feel them at the front door. Something about riding a motorcycle seemed to give you a sixth sense for the presence of another biker.
They just stood there for a second, looked around, then turned and left. No colors. No patches. And no motorcycles except Adam’s and Tugg’s in the parking lot.
Tugg got back to the table just as the check arrived.
“You ready?”
“Yeah, but listen. Something weird just happened.”
“What, like you paid the check?”
“No,” Adam said. “While you were gone two bikers came in, gave everything the once over, then left.”
Tugg’s eyes immediately went to the parking lot.
“Were they Immortals?”
“I don’t think so. They weren’t wearing any patches.”
Tugg leaned over the table for a wide view out the window, then grabbed a tooth pick.
“Well, if they were Immortals, they’d be wearing patches. But if it was some other club, they’d have to have a death wish to wear a rival patch in here. Maybe they were just regular AMA types passing through. Or they didn’t like our bikes, so they ran.”
“So why did they come in, then?”
“Good point.”
Adam dropped some money on the table and stood up. “How far does the Immortals territory go?”
“It stops right at the reservation,” Tugg said. “Even bikers don’t mess with the Indians.”
“Do you think they might have been Reapers, then?”
Tugg stepped outside and held the door for Adam. “No, like I said, we’re outside the Reapers’ territory. And I told you back in Ashland, that issue is dead now.”
When he got outside, Adam heard the unmistakable sound of twin mufflers disappearing in the distance.
