"Bailiff, read the charges please."
The bailiff read off both counts in the indictment. Then he handed the document to the judge, who scrutinized it for a moment, and set it aside.
Looking at the Assistant U.S. Attorney McNamara, he said, "Is the prosecution ready?"
McNamara stood up. "We are, Your Honor."
"And is the defense ready?"
Nathan Goldberg also stood. "We are, Your Honor."
"Very well," said the judge. "Mr. McNamara, you may deliver your opening statement."
McNamara stood before the jury. His delivery, a scathing character assassination so damning and convincing that Adrian almost felt obliged to go to jail, and took a mere fifteen minutes. When he was finished, he thanked the jury and returned to his seat.
Next it was Nathan's turn. He, too, was convincing, advising the jury that the government had in fact never caught his client in any criminal act. Instead, they were basing their case on the testimony of a two-time convicted felon who would do whatever it took to keep from going to prison a third time under the three-strike law. Like McNamara, his delivery was brief and said a lot on Adrian's behalf. When finished, he too, thanked the jury and returned to his seat.
"Very well," said the judge, "The prosecution may call its first witness."
McNamara stood up.
"The prosecution would like to call Mr. Randy Jenkins to the stand."
RJ entered from the rear of the court and went to the witness stand, where he was sworn in and seated. His eyes darted, nervously looking everywhere and at everyone... except Adrian.
McNamara began, "Mr. Jenkins, do you know the defendant, Mr. Adrian R. Cabraal?"
RJ glanced at Adrian, then looked down at the floor and muttered, "Yes."
Adrian watched his betrayer shift in his seat. That's right, he thought, go ahead and squirm. How does it feel, being a snitch? He would have enjoyed seeing RJ go through the motions of a man marked by his treachery, had not so many years of his life hung on the balance.
It would have also been nice to watch RJ wrestle with his anxieties, but it was time for Adrian to carry out his decision.
When he stood up, everyone looked in his direction. When he said, "Excuse me, Your Honor, but there's no need to question the witness any further," an air of confusion descended on the court.
"What are you saying, Mr. Cabraal?"
"I’m changing my plea."
Nathan Goldberg nearly fell out of his chair.
"Do I understand you to mean that you want to plead guilty?" asked the judge, obviously surprised.
"Yes, Your Honor. I do."
"Have you consulted with your attorney on the matter?"
"No sir, I haven't. It's my decision, and I intend to stand by it."
"You realize you give up your right to appeal by pleading guilty?"
"Yes, Your Honor. But in pleading guilty I'm also pleading the mercy of the court."
"I can make no guarantees, Mr. Cabraal."
"I know, Your Honor. Nevertheless, I want my guilty plea to stand."
"You’re within your rights in doing so, Mr. Cabraal. Let the record show that the defendant pled guilty as charged to the counts against him. Sentencing will take place two weeks from today. This court is adjourned."
Nathan Goldberg looked dumbfounded. "Are you crazy?"
"Nathan, even if I beat the charges - which I won't - the government gets to introduce evidence and testimony that will bury most of my friends and associates. That would make me a marked man, and probably my family, too. I don't need that, and neither do they. I figure there’s enough in my favor that I won't get the max, especially after pleading guilty. It was the best option I had."
"It's your life, Adrian."
"That's right, it is."
They rode the elevator down to the first floor and made their way out to the street, arriving there just as RJ was being led from the building. The two men eyed each other with contempt, and Adrian had a strong urge to go after RJ. The two U.S. marshals who had been RJ's bodyguards upstairs were still with him, though, and Serrano, Russo, and Fernandez were only a few feet away.
RJ's hatred for Adrian got the best of him, and he couldn't resist at least one dig. "Let me know if your wife needs someone to keep her warm at night while you're away, Cabraal."
"She'd be too much for you, bird legs. A boy like you couldn’t handle a man's job. Besides, you won't have the time. You'll be too busy running for your life, you gutless punk."
RJ broke free of the marshals and charged at Adrian, but he never made it. The first bullet tore into his neck, and two more caught him in the chest, causing him to jerk spasmodically like a deranged marionette. The bullet in his throat nearly ripped his head from his shoulders, and the slugs that entered his chest exploded out through his back in a burst of flesh and blood. He spun wildly as he was thrown to the ground like a broken doll. After hitting the sidewalk, he rolled over on his back, shuddered once, and lay still.
Adrian watched in shocked silence, and instinctively looked up. Briefly, he caught sight of a lone figure poised with a rifle in an open window five stories up just before it vanished from view. Angelo had kept his word; he’d taken care of ‘the dog that couldn't be housebroken’. At the same time, Adrian was grateful to have played no role in the matter.
Serrano, gun drawn, was on Adrian like a plague.
"You son of a bitch! I'll hang you for this!"
"Forget it, Serrano. I didn't have anything to do with it."
"Bullshit, you didn't!"
Adrian was shoved aside by a pair of uniformed police who rushed onto the scene. People had scattered in every direction. RJ's body, spreading an ever growing blood pool around it, was surrounded by the marshals, Russo, and Fernandez, all of whom had their weapons drawn and were trying to pinpoint where the shots had come from.
"Think, you asshole," Adrian said to Serrano. "Why should I do that to Jenkins? He couldn't hurt me, I just pled guilty. You'll have to look somewhere else for the guy who killed your snitch."
Serrano wanted to scream, but couldn't. Adrian's logic made sense; he’d have to look elsewhere for RJ's killer.
"If you're done with me, Serrano, I'll be on my way. I figure I have two weeks of freedom left, and I'll be damned if I spend them bullshitting with you."
Serrano abruptly wheeled, and walked off in disgust.
Adrian turned to Nathan Goldberg, who looked shaken.
"This wasn't my doing, Nathan. That's the truth. I don't kill people, and if I did, I wouldn't be dumb enough to do it at my own trial."
The attorney shook his head. "I believe you, Adrian. Let's hope the judge does when he sentences you."
Chapter Twelve
Jennifer looked at him through moist eyes, determined not to cry. He wished he could bear the pain for her. It would be fitting, since he was to blame for it.
"Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
She nodded, as a tear coursed down her cheek. He brushed it away with his lips, then put his arms around her and held her.
"You've got no idea how sorry I am about all this," he said. "You deserve better."
"Once you quit the business and we started living normally, these became some of the best weeks of my life. If they lock you up and throw away the key, I'll still love you anyway. You mean that much to me. I just can't bear the thought of it."
"Well, they haven't locked me up yet, and if they do, they won't throw the key away." He held her at arm's length. "You're indescribably special, baby. I'll always love you for that. And I love you for loving me, especially at a time like this. I don't know what I'd do without you."
She smiled bravely, then thrust herself into his arms and burst into tears. He held her tightly, feeling her body shake as her sobs drifted softly to his ears. They stayed like that for a long time with him holding her closely as her emotions ran their course.
Finally he eased her away from him. "We'd better get going. I want to stop at y
our sister's and see Andy on the way. That's going to be one of the hardest things I ever done."
She nodded. "I hate to leave him there, but we can't take him to the sentencing. It wouldn't be right. And if they ever send you away, I...I..." She forced the thought from her mind, gathered up her things and they left.
***********
Jennifer waited in the kitchen with her sister while Adrian went in to see his son. It wouldn't do for Andy to see her upset.
Adrian wasn't doing much better. As he sat on the edge of the bed watching his son get dressed, he tried not to think what life without him would be like. Andy looked like a portrait of innocence, framed in the loving glow of his father's admiration. He, like Jennifer, was an innocent victim. Adrian shuddered with guilt, and had to banish the thought.
When Andy had dressed, Adrian extended his arms and called him over. "There's something I have to tell you, something very important."
Andy sat down on the bed, feeling nervous. His was accustomed to his father being easy going and fun loving. He sensed this conversation would be different.
Taking a deep breath, Adrian collected himself and began. "Andy, I love you very much. You mean more to me than I can ever tell you. And it's because of that I want to have this talk.
"Some things have happened, and I might have to go away for a while, maybe a long while. If I do, it will mean that we wouldn't see each other. If it turns out like that, I want you to know that I'll still love you just the same. I'll never forget you, no matter what. If I do go away, I'll write to you all the time and I'll call whenever I can."
The boy looked at Adrian, uncomprehending. "Do you have to, dad? Do you have to go away?"
"Maybe, Andy. If you were older, I'd explain why, but the important thing is that you always think of me as a good father and that you love me and know that I love you."
"You’re the best dad I could ever have. We do things, we go places. Why can’t you stay here?"
It was obvious to Adrian that his definition of a long time - and perhaps the judge's - would be a far cry from Andy's.
"I wish I could, too. Just remember that some day it will be over, and I'll be home again."
Andy looked confused and forlorn. "Okay, Dad. But I'll miss you if you go away from me."
"I'll miss you, too. More than you'll ever know."
"Is Mom going with you?" he asked.
"Yes, but she'll be back later."
He wrapped his arms around his son and hugged him. Andy responded in kind, and they sat quietly on the edge of the bed like that for a long time.
When he could stand it no longer, Adrian eased Andy away from him and got up.
"I'd better go. You be good for mama if I have to go, and take good care of her. Okay?"
"I will, I promise."
He took one last look at his son, winked, and hurried from the room, dying a thousand deaths.
************
"Will the defendant please rise?" asked the bailiff.
Adrian rose, adjusted his suit, and looked at the judge.
"Adrian Cabraal, you have admitted your guilt in having conspired to the distribution of cocaine, one count, and to having conspired to the distribution of marijuana, one count. Do you have anything to say before I pass sentence on you?" Adrian's heart was in his throat and his knees felt like they would buckle. Up to thirty years were on the line and, if the judge gave it all to him, he had no recourse because he had pled guilty. It was the moment of truth.
"I realize I can't relive my life, Your Honor. But if I could, I'd obviously do it differently knowing what I know now, and after all that I've lost."
"Your comments are well taken, Mr. Cabraal, and I'm sure you mean them. However, I cannot ignore the harm you have done to society. Therefore, it is my duty to sentence you to two consecutive terms of five years on each of the two counts you have been charged with. And--"
Adrian was thunderstruck. "Ten years?" he blurted. "Are you out of your mind? This is my first offense! I've never been in trouble in my life!"
"You are now, Mr. Cabraal," the judge said. "Another outburst, and I'll have you forcibly removed from the court."
Adrian drew a deep breath, and nodded in resignation. "I apologize to the court, Your Honor. I hadn't expected that sentence."
"You should have considered the consequences a long time ago, Mr. Cabraal." Referring back to his papers, the judge continued. "Because of the severity of your crimes as well as the clientele your pre-sentencing report has connected you with, I order that you serve your ten-year sentence in a maximum security institution, the location of which will be decided by the United States Bureau of Prisons. As of now, Mr. Cabraal, you are to be remanded into the custody of the United States Marshals. This court is adjourned."
Adrian didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He hadn't received the thirty-year maximum, but ten years was still ten years. How much of that he'd have to serve, he could only guess.
Nathan Goldberg shook his head sadly. He shook Adrian's hand and said, "I'm sorry, Adrian. I had hoped you'd do better."
Two marshals came and stood on either side of him. "Are you ready?"
"How do you get ready for something like this? Mind if I say good-bye to my wife? She's right over there."
"All right, but be brief."
"Thanks, I will."
He went to Jennifer, who was standing in the aisle. She appeared stunned. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she looked heartbroken.
"I guess that's that," he said.
She nodded quietly. "At least now we know how long we'll have to wait," she said bravely. "And if you behave and make parole, you might be out a lot sooner. Then we can start over with a clean slate."
"You're amazing. You deserve a better deal than the one you got with me."
"I'll be the judge of that. We've had some wonderful years together, and a few that weren't so wonderful. If this is what it takes to put an end to the life we’ve been living, then I guess it's what we'll have to do."
He took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him.
“If you hang in with me during the bad times, I promise you there will be many, many good ones."
She drew close to him again. "I’ll do the best I can Adrian. That’s the most I can say. And for now, I love you..."
-PART TWO -
THE PENITENTIARY
"You ain't gonna find nothin' in here but steel, concrete and misery."
-- Mob Boss Carmine Ruffino
A Lifer
Chapter Thirteen
- Day One -
Adrian stepped off the bus and stretched to the extent that his handcuffs and waist chains would allow. He was exhausted from traveling seventeen hundred miles handcuffed and chained inside a prison bus. Not that he had made the journey in one sitting. That would have been a bargain, compared to the way the U.S. Bureau of Prisons handled it. Altogether, the trip had taken almost nine weeks, and had allowed him to see many of the nation's more dubious landmarks along the way. A week at the Metropolitan Correctional Center in New York City; three days at FCI Danbury, Connecticut; two weeks at Lewisburg, PA; six days at FCI Milan, Michigan; five days at the county jail in Columbus, Ohio; a week days at the U.S. Penitentiary in Marion, IL, which had been built to replace the infamous Alcatraz; and five weeks at the U.S. Penitentiary in Terre Haute, IN, where someone had been murdered the day he’d arrived.
He had also made an unexpected -- and unpleasant -- discovery as he shuffled from prison to prison. As a prisoner in transit, called a 'holdover', he was in a particularly bad position. Convicts in general were second-class citizens, and holdovers were second-class convicts. He was locked in his cell twenty-three hours a day, which was the equivalent of solitary confinement. Once a day, they let him out for an hour to exercise and to shower. It could be a lonely, boring existence, or it could be dangerous. Moreover, the holdover at these places wasn’t overnight. It could last for weeks, or even months.
The one other human being he w
as locked in with -- in Terre Haute -- was a man with severe emotional problems who was on six hundred milligrams of Prozac a day. At first, Adrian had been reluctant to even doze, for fear of being attacked in his sleep. But on the third day his ‘cellmate’, Warren Tyler Gates, all six foot five, three hundred pounds of him, got mad because the trustee who delivered the meals had forgotten their milk. To make matters worse, the medic who delivered the medications was also late, and Warren had lost it. Unable to get at the trustee, Warren had vented his wrath on the sink, ripping it out of the wall with an almost effortless yank. After that, Adrian decided it didn't make any difference whether he slept or not. If Warren Tyler Gates wanted to kill him, Warren Tyler Gates probably would.
But something interesting developed the next day. Adrian began exercising -- doing push-ups, sit-ups, leg-lifts -- with Warren watching him intently. Adrian picked up on it.
"You want to take a turn at it, Warren?" he asked. "I'll take a rest."
Despite his size Warren was shy, and Adrian was grateful.
"Nah, I’ve never been any good at that stuff."
"Come on, it'll do you good to bang out a few push-ups and sit-ups. Go ahead."
Warren scowled. "I said no." He hesitated. Then, "And besides ... I don't know how. No one ever showed me."
Adrian sensed he had struck a raw nerve. No wonder Warren was getting pissed. He was embarrassed because he didn't know how to do simple calisthenics.
Adrian took his best shot at winning the big man over.
"Hey," he said with a wave of his hand, "no one starts off as an expert. You have to build up slowly. It takes time and practice, that's all. And what better chance to learn than right now? Shit, I operated a karate school for years. And I didn't learn it over here; I went over to Asia to study it. I know how it feels to be new at something, so don't sweat it. Now, what do you say?"
Rules of the Game Page 9
