Chapter 28
The Bond Hearing
Around three o'clock, Fred was escorted before a magistrate for a bond hearing. As he entered the courtroom, Joel Roberts was standing at one counsel table, and a tall, dark-haired man—who Fred soon learned was Samuel P. Whitehead—was at the other. The bailiff escorted Fred in and told him to sit beside Joel. A pretty young woman joined Mr. Whitehead at the prosecution’s table. Fred assumed she was his assistant. The room was packed with newspaper reporters and photographers.
Fred was quite surprised at the crowded courtroom and looked around to see if there was another defendant being arraigned. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t anyone there but him.
After several minutes, the bailiff stood up and said, "Please rise for the Honorable Harold T. Washington, Magistrate for the Southern District of California."
Judge Washington walked in and asked everyone to be seated. The bailiff handed him a file, and for several minutes he reviewed it, then he called the case, "United States versus Fred Fuller."
Mr. Whitehead immediately stood up and approached the podium with Joel closely behind.
"Sam Whitehead for the United States, Your Honor."
"Joel Roberts for the defendant, Fred Fuller, Your Honor."
Mr. Whitehead continued, "Your Honor, the government considers Mr. Fuller to be a flight risk and would ask that bail be denied. As the Court is aware, Mr. Fuller is charged with the murder of one Harvey Hamlin and the robbery of the San Bernardino Branch of Bank USA. The government has not yet recovered the 6.7 million dollars that was stolen. If Mr. Fuller is let out on bail, there would be a strong likelihood that he would try to collect that money and flee the country."
"Your Honor," Joel said, "Fred Fuller was born and raised in Ventura, California. His mother and father live there, and he's currently a student at UCLA and plans to go to law school. Over the years, he has been an outstanding citizen, a school leader, an Eagle Scout and even worked two summers as a Congressional Intern for Congressman Bartlett. There is absolutely no flight risk here, Your Honor, and we request bail be set at $10,000."
"Your Honor, the government has a witness who will testify that Mr. Fuller told him less than one week ago that he and a lady friend were planning to leave the country and go to Canada."
"Bring on your witness, Counsel," Judge Washington ordered.
"The government calls Dr. Dennis Winston," Whitehead replied.
From the crowd of reporters came Dr. Winston, wearing a light gray suit and red tie. He was directed to the witness booth by the bailiff. The judge then asked, "Do you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"
"I do," Dr. Winston replied.
The judge nodded at Whitehead. “Your witness.”
"Please state your name for the Court," Whitehead asked.
"Dr. Dennis Winston."
"How are you employed, sir?"
"I am a resident at Barstow Memorial Hospital."
"Did you have an occasion to meet Fred Fuller last week?"
"Yes, I did."
"And can you identify Mr. Fuller?"
"Yes. That's Mr. Fuller over there at the table."
"Let the record show that Dr. Winston is pointing to Fred Fuller, the defendant. Now, Dr. Winston, under what circumstances did you meet Fred Fuller last week?"
"His girlfriend, Candy Clisby, was in the ICU of our hospital. When she died as the result of toxins from multiple snake bites, I had to break the news to him."
"How did he take that news, Doctor?"
"Not very well. He got very upset and started rambling about how unfair it was that she died. He said they had plans to go to Canada and start a new life."
“You are quite sure he said he and Miss Clisby were planning to go to Canada?”
“Yes, that’s what he said.”
“Very well,” Whitehead said. “Pass the witness."
Joel stood and began, "Mr. Winston, did Fred Fuller say when he was going to Canada?"
"No."
"Did he say to what part of Canada he was going?
"No."
"I believe you testified that Mr. Fuller was grieving the loss of someone he loved and that he was not totally coherent—‘very upset and rambling’—correct?"
"That's true."
"So, you could have misunderstood what he said or meant, isn't that right?"
"Not what he said, but perhaps what he meant by it."
"Or, Doctor, Mr. Fuller may not have even realized what he was saying, isn't that possible?"
"That is true. He was upset and confused. A lot of what he said didn’t make much sense."
"Isn't it true that Miss Clisby and Mr. Fuller were camping in the Hackberry Mountains in the middle of the Mojave Desert when this snake attack occurred?"
"Yes, I believe that is true."
"If you were heading for Canada, would you go via the Mojave Desert?"
There was laughter in the gallery, and the judge immediately slammed down his gavel, "I'll have order please!"
"No, it would be quite a bit out of the way actually."
"Do you think Fred Fuller and his girlfriend were really heading for Canada?"
"No, not when this mishap occurred."
"Pass the witness, Your Honor," Joel concluded.
"No further questions," Whitehead advised.
"Call your next witness."
"No further witnesses, Your Honor."
"Mr. Roberts, do you have any witnesses?" the Judge asked.
"Yes, Your Honor. The defense calls Margaret Thompson."
A heavyset, well-dressed woman of about fifty-five years of age stood up and approached the witness box.
"Please state your name for the record," Joel began.
"Margaret Thompson."
"Mrs. Thompson, how are you employed?"
"I’m on the staff of Congressman Bartlett from Ventura, California."
"And what are your duties for the Congressman?"
"I run his local office."
"Do you know the defendant, Fred Fuller?"
"Yes, I certainly do."
"How do you know him?"
"For two summers he was a Congressional Intern for the Congressman and worked in our office. Besides that, he's been helping Congressman Bartlett in his campaigns ever since he was twelve years old."
"What is your opinion of Mr. Fuller?"
"He is an outstanding young man, and I am quite confident he had nothing to do with these heinous crimes."
"Do you think that if bail were granted, he might flee the country?"
"Absolutely not. His mother and dad live in Ventura. He's going to school at UCLA, and, besides, we’re coming up on an election year, and he would never abandon the Congressman's campaign."
Once again, there was laughter in the gallery, and the Judge banged his gavel and demanded order.
"Thank you, Mrs. Thompson. No further questions. Pass the witness."
"No questions, Your Honor," Whitehead said.
"Alright then. Since Mr. Fuller apparently has an untarnished record as a young man and has strong family roots in the community, I am going to allow bail. However, due to the severity of the charges against him, I am going to set bail at $100,000.00. Accordingly, Mr. Fuller is remanded into the custody of the Federal Marshal until such time as he posts bond in the amount prescribed."
Whitehead was visibly upset by the Court’s decision, and when the judge left the bench he walked over to where Joel and Fred were standing and began ranting, "I just want you to know that just because your client got bail doesn’t mean you have a ghost of a chance of winning at trial. So, why don’t you save the taxpayers a lot of money and plead guilty."
"Oh, you’re certain you’re going to win?" Joel questioned.
"Yes. We've got enough evidence to put him away for the rest of his life—and maybe then some."
"Well, since Fred here tells me he’s innocent, I think we'll go ahead and have a trial, if th
at's okay with you.”
"Suit yourself, but it's just a matter of time until we put him permanently behind bars where he belongs, Eagle Scout or not."
"I wouldn’t make any campaign promises on that score, because if the jury finds Fred innocent, your political career will be in the dumpster."
"Okay,” Whitehead snorted. “I’m trying to do you a favor, but I can see talking to you is like talking to a bowling ball.”
Joel shrugged smugly, and Whitehead stormed out of the courtroom with a dozen or so reporters scrambling to keep up with him. Joel turned to Fred and said, "What an asshole, huh?"
"What does he have against me?" Fred asked.
"It’s not personal. You're his ticket to the Governor's mansion. He's been waiting for a high-profile case to propel his political career. But forget Whitehead. Now the hard part. . . . where are we going to find $100,000 to bail you out of jail?"
"That's a good question," Fred replied. He knew he could get $100,000 quite easily if he went to Devil's Canyon and retrieved it, but that wasn’t an option. If he suddenly showed up with $100,000, it would just prove he was the bank robber. "My parents don't have that kind of money," he added.
"Well, you don't really need $100,000. You just need a good bail bondsman who is willing to put up the bond. Do you think your parents might have some real estate or something they could pledge as collateral?"
"No. They don't have anything like that."
"Well, I am afraid you'll have to spend the night at the county jail. Hopefully tomorrow, we'll be able to post bond."
"I have to go all the way to the county jail?” Fred questioned. “Why can't I just stay here in the Federal Building?"
"Where they have you now is just a holding cell. They don't keep prisoners there overnight. I am sorry."
"It's not your fault. I'll survive, I guess."
"It won't be so bad. Just hang in there," Joel said.
Joel left, and the bailiff escorted Fred back to the Marshal's office. After a few minutes, he was taken downstairs and loaded onto a bus to be taken to the LA County Jail. On the way, he thought back to that moment of decision when he found the vault open. What were the odds that he’d find the same vault opened twice, he wondered? A million to one? He wished to hell he’d called Sinclair just like he had the first time. Then he began to think, why was Harvey Hamlin still at the bank so late, and why hadn’t Hamlin closed the vault? It was almost like Hamlin wanted him to find the vault open. Fred knew he’d been set up, but by whom he didn’t know. Harvey Hamlin and one or more accomplices had planned to rob the bank and blame the heist on him! He knew that because somebody other than Harvey had put the bag of money in is car. He figured it had to be Sam. It would have been a pretty cleaver plan had Hamlin not gotten stressed out and had a heart attack. But with Harvey dead and Sam nowhere to be found, how could he ever prove he’d been set up?
Uncommon Thief Page 28
