When Men Betray

by Webb Hubbell

  I smiled and nodded. No wonder Maggie looked pale and tired.

  “When we got to the judge’s chambers Friday morning, Sam told Marshall that his deputies were opposed to any deal, but that, after what had happened to you, he was ready to try to move forward. If I could convince his deputies, he’d be on board. With that, he coolly picked up the New York Times and sat down in a corner.

  “I wasn’t happy with his proposal—his deputies had no intention of being convinced, but once again Maggie proved her mettle. She refused to let them shut down the process. Maggie kept at us until every single issue had been ironed out. We were all amazed.

  “Peggy came in just as Sam and I had finished going over the major points with Marshall. She appeared to be shocked that we’d actually come to an agreement. The attorney general had told her to move slowly. They wanted to take Bea into protective custody, but weren’t ready to deal with Woody—not with this much national attention focused on the case.

  “That took the air out of the room, let me tell you. I admit I said something I shouldn’t have. I expected Marshall to call me on the carpet, but instead, he muttered, ‘My sentiments exactly, Ms. Lawrence.’ Sam was obviously angry. Cool as a cucumber, Marshall asked us to take our seats. His smile was actually scary. I remember the next part almost verbatim.

  “‘I assume you informed the attorney general that Mr. Patterson was almost killed yesterday?’ Peggy said that the attorney general considered it purely a local matter. Can you believe that? You should have seen Marshall’s face. Peggy actually squirmed in her chair.

  “He tapped his ballpoint on his desk for what seemed forever. Then he said, ‘Ms. Fortson, I’m not asking for the Justice Department’s position; I’m just curious. Do you believe what we learned yesterday is purely a local matter?’

  “She squared her shoulders and said, ‘No, Your Honor, I do not.’ It was great.

  “Marshall reached for his legal pad and started writing. No one had the nerve to say a word. When he looked up he said something like this: ‘I’m inclined to approve the agreement counsel reached this morning, subject to how it may be affected by the Justice Department’s position. However, since these events are purely local in nature, I believe what Mr. Patterson proposed can be worked out locally.’ Every time Marshall said the word locally or local he emphasized it. ‘I’m confident that what we learned yesterday violates some local laws as well, and since the attorney general feels this is a local matter he won’t mind if Mr. Pagano’s office begins its own investigation. Mr. Pagano, do you plan to undertake such an investigation?’

  “Sam’s smile was answer enough.

  “‘Good,’ Marshall said. ‘You can count on the assistance of this court in your undertaking. As soon as counsels reach an agreement, I’ll preserve the testimony of Ms. Taylor in open court. The court’s gag order will remain in place and applies to all parties, including the US government. An order reflecting what I just said will become public record as soon as you reach agreement. I will also release yesterday’s transcript and the video at the same time.’”

  I smiled ear to ear as Micki recounted this. Man, I was so wishing I’d been there, but then again, Marshall did what he did because I wasn’t.

  “What did Peggy say to that?”

  “Peggy said, ‘No disrespect, Judge, but may I first remind the court that the United States is not a party to these proceedings.’

  “Marshall was the picture of kindness. ‘I’m sorry. I forgot to mention that US Attorney Blanchard made a half-hearted oral motion to intervene on Monday, and I told him to put it in writing. I’ve had second thoughts. I’ve decided that such formality wasn’t necessary, and I’ve granted his motion.’ With that, he held up his legal pad where he had handwritten an order and grinned. ‘Ms. Fortson, please advise the attorney general that he is subject to my gag order, and if he or anyone connected to the Justice Department says anything to the media about this case, they will be subject to sanctions. You can also tell him I expect him to appear in my courtroom the day Ms. Taylor’s testimony is preserved.’

  “Peggy was flustered. She said, ‘You can’t compel the appearance of the attorney general or gag him.’

  “Marshall didn’t blink. You should have heard him. He said, ‘Try me. And let me suggest that you tell the attorney general this is not a local matter. Just like you, just like Jack, I have an obligation when I hear that the laws of my country are being violated—an obligation to act. I don’t have the luxury of saying that it’s purely a local matter or somebody else’s problem. What I heard yesterday goes way beyond the death of a US senator. Jack Patterson put his life on the line to let us know what he discovered, and I have no intention of letting it remain a local matter.’ It was hard not to cheer.

  “Poor Peggy immediately agreed to call the attorney general, and she wasn’t gone long. I wish you’d seen how relieved she looked when she told Marshall that the attorney general had approved your proposal and that she was ready to talk about Woody’s protection and cooperation. She assured Sam he’d have the total cooperation of the Justice Department. We were all smiling until she said, ‘Your Honor, the attorney general has put only one condition on his approval.’ Everyone waited for Marshall’s reaction, but he looked like he was cut from stone. Peggy broke out in a big grin and said, ‘When he flies to Little Rock, the attorney general wants to meet with you personally over coffee.’ And I bet you can guess what he said.”

  We both said at the same time, “I don’t know why we shouldn’t.”

  I felt better than I had in a long while. Micki told me she’d spent most of the day working out the details with Peggy and Rodney. Everything had been signed, and both Bea and Woody were now safely ensconced in a confidential location. Woody was on board—still anxious, but feeling better.

  The nurses chose that moment to wheel in their equipment and do their thing. An exhausted Micki almost fell asleep in the chair. After the nurses left, I told her she needed to go home and get some rest. She smiled, crawled onto my bed fully clothed, gave me a moist kiss, and said, “No action tonight, partner, just a little spooning.”

  She snuggled next to me, and we were both asleep in a matter of seconds.

  SUNDAY

  52

  THE NEXT MORNING, when I woke, Micki was gone. The nurses were smirking, but I didn’t really care. I had a feeling that our law partnership had begun without a word. Whatever Walter and I worked out, it would have to include a law practice on the side. I enjoyed the rush of being in court and wasn’t ready to give it up just yet. But this time, I’d do it my way.

  Now that I had permission to leave the hospital, I figured Clovis would help me change into some jeans and a shirt, and I’d walk right out, but that’s not the way it works. You have to sign forms, wait on doctors to sign orders, wait on nurses to remove the last IV, wait on a wheelchair. The list of waits goes on and on, until you’re practically begging them to let you leave. Eventually, I was out the door and into Clovis’s new Tahoe. I didn’t ask what had happened to the Suburban.

  When we got to Micki’s, Walter and Jeff were practicing wedge shots in her pasture, Maggie and Beth were kibitzing from the porch, and Micki was in the barn, feeding her horses. The spring weather was fickle. A front was moving through, and a fire in the fireplace would be in order for the evening. Clovis said he couldn’t match Bea’s cooking, but he did a mean steak. After hospital food, I was definitely ready for steak and twice-baked potatoes. Marshall was picking up Helen, and they’d be here for dinner. Sam was reluctant at first, but when Maggie told him what I wanted to talk about, he said he’d be here.

  We watched the press conference on TV. In a practiced, articulate manner, the attorney general spoke of Senator Robinson’s legacy, the plea agreement with Woody, and the importance of federal and local cooperation to our national security. He must have said “national security” at least a dozen times. When asked if my shooting would be a part of the task force’s investigation, he said he
couldn’t go into the details but that the individual who’d initially been arrested had been turned over to the FBI.

  Everyone involved was concerned about how the public would react to the sealed agreement. The media wouldn’t hesitate to fan the smoldering coals of Little Rock by suggesting we were engaged in some huge cover-up. Lucy surprised all of us by appearing on the podium with the attorney general. Looking gracious and elegant, she gave a moving speech suggesting patience and calm. I couldn’t help but wonder what she had up her well-cut sleeve.

  Beth and Jeff planned to leave in the morning. They’d missed enough school. Walter would drop them off in Charlotte on his way to DC with Maggie. I had to stay in Little Rock a few more days before the doctors would let me leave. The ever-resourceful Clovis knew a nurse who would come in to deal with my bandages and a physical therapist who’d get me started. This nurse might not have dreamy eyes, but I’d just have to make do.

  Maggie wanted to stay with me, proposing that Walter come get us both in a week, but I declined, saying, “You have an office in DC to organize.”

  Beth ordered me to take a nap. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was exhausted. The prospect of cracking the window, listening to the breeze, and sleeping for a while sounded really good. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

  I woke to the sounds of laughter and conversation. Helen and Marshall had arrived and were trading stories with Clovis. I walked carefully into the kitchen where Maggie and Walter were unpacking a case of wine he had purchased at the local wine store. He told me he had been pleasantly surprised at the prices, and the owner had bragged that he’d recently sold two bottles of Chateau Margaux. The three of us shared a smile over that.

  Sam arrived, and we congregated around the fire. Sam told me that Brenda’s Houston-based lawyer was adamant that Brenda had nothing to do with the shooting and in fact claimed that if she hadn’t accidentally dropped her napkin she would’ve been the victim. The shooter was wanted internationally, in several countries, as well as by Interpol for murder and other crimes. He had also had managed to get a lawyer from Houston and refused to talk. The FBI was negotiating with several governments about which one would get to try him first. There was no doubt that someone had spent a pretty penny trying to eliminate me. I was the man’s first known failed assassination—a distinction I was happy to have.

  Sam thought it was only a matter of time before Justice heard from the law firm representing McAlvin. I didn’t want to pour cold water on the party, but as Peggy had told the judge, the Justice Department grinds slowly. My bet was that it would be years before anyone was actually indicted. I wondered if McAlvin and his buddies would try to escape to Brazil or stay in the States and spend their millions on lawyers.

  We all engaged in meaningless reminiscing until Clovis and Jeff left to grill the steaks and Beth questioned Helen about the four of us being good boys in school.

  Helen looked to heaven and said, “Hardly.” She told Beth how we’d get in late and crash at her house, even when Woody was out of town. She got a little misty as she recounted the times she’d made peace when we’d argued, how she’d had to cover for us with our parents, and the days she’d have to pick us up off the floor after some girl had dumped one of us.

  “Didn’t you ever get in trouble?” Beth asked me.

  “Beth, I could spend a month telling you stories about the trouble we got into. The petty fights we had among ourselves … near misses we had with the law. There’s the time we tried to sneak into the drive-in because we only had enough money to buy a case of beer and one movie ticket. Sam and Woody got in the trunk, and I slammed it shut only to discover the keys were still in Woody’s pants. Or the time Marshall tried to cross a stream in his girlfriend’s car, only to get stuck and have to watch it flood up to the seats. Oh, and the time Sam agonized for weeks about asking this one girl out on a date. While Sam dithered, Woody asked her out and ended up dating her for months. I thought Sam would never get over it. We’d go weeks without talking to one or the other over some petty nonsense, but we always reconnected, and usually, nobody apologized.”

  Beth made a dismissive gesture. “That’s not exactly hard crime you’re talking about. To me, you all sound too good to be true.”

  I laughed. “I’m sure over time your memory eliminates the negatives about the people you care about. You say they sound too good to be true—the truth is, my memory has become selective, and to paraphrase my favorite Grisham movie, The Pelican Brief, ‘they almost are.’”

  Laughing, Marshall and Sam filled in the details of the stories I’d told Beth and told a few of their own. As I listened, I realized what I had denied my daughter by leaving Little Rock for good: the chance to get a picture of her father from the perspective of others. I knew it was long past time to stop protecting her.

  Dinner was unbelievably good. No matter how expensive a restaurant steak may be, a steak grilled at home on a Weber, marinated just right, is the best. Clovis was a master of the art. He refused to give us his secret, but Jeff claimed to have watched every step.

  Clovis replied predictably, “Watchin’ ain’t the same as grillin’.”

  I was trying to figure out how to bring up the story I needed to tell when, as we were getting up from the table, Beth said, “Okay Dad, after we clean up, can you tell me about what happened here in Little Rock? Why you and Mom left and never came back?”

  Before I could respond, she said, “It’s my last night here, and you promised. And please, no preliminary caveats about attorney-client privileges or work-product.”

  That got a big laugh from everyone.

  Beth gave me a careful hug and whispered, “Let’s get whatever this is behind us.”

  We all got comfortable around the fireplace. I was glad to see that Jeff had a firm arm around Beth. I was gathering my courage when Helen looked me in the eye and said it was okay to talk about Woody’s role in what had happened. She’d known some of it at the time, but I had a feeling that Woody had told her more before he went into federal custody. She told me not to hold back on her account. I marveled again at her strength. Marshall and Sam said they’d fill in if I needed help.

  “Most of you know the story by now—you know what happened. The one person who’s missing is Angie. She made me promise to tell you what happened, Beth, but it never seemed to be the right time. I’ve learned this week that waiting for the right time is just a delay tactic. My only caveat—no, this one’s okay—is that these events happened over twenty-five years ago when we were in college, about the same age as you and Jeff are now. Angie used to remind me that it’s wrong to judge people of the past by today’s standards. We are all people of our times.”

  I then told her essentially the same story I’d told Micki and Maggie the other night. Despite having told it then, I had to stop more than once to let Sam or Marshall take over. They were also able to fill in some details I hadn’t remembered. It was tough. When Beth cried, I did too, but I got through it to the point where, once again Micki said, “I can’t believe those bastards weren’t charged.”

  “Well, Micki, for better or worse, they never were. And what good would it have done in the long run? Anyway, here’s what did happen. While I was undergoing multiple surgeries, the power of Stafford State’s supporters and coaches had switched into high gear. Today it would have been all over the news, ESPN, and Sports Illustrated, not to mention that the NCAA would have taken its own punitive action. But despite the police cars and multiple ambulances that had been dispatched that night, there wasn’t even a report in the police blotter. A wall of silence was erected. Several football players, including the guy with the broken jaw and the massive guy I almost killed, were treated after a ‘hit-and-run accident’ at Baylor Medical in Dallas. And every single football player had a phony alibi.

  “My baseball coach, the only person other than my friends to visit me for the entire two weeks in the hospital, told me to keep quiet, that someone from the college would
come see me soon. Of course, all my teammates knew what had happened, but the official word was that I’d been in a ‘climbing accident,’ and wasn’t allowed visitors.

  “Sam and Marshall were called before the dean of students. The Dean had heard they’d been drinking a lot that night. The school would hate to suspend them over a bar fight. Surely they didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize their graduation. Sam and Marshall wanted to get the truth out, but weren’t sure what to do; none of us were.

  “We all wanted to hear from Angie. We had to know how she felt about going public before we said anything. Sam, Marshall, and I would work ourselves up into a lather. Helen let us vent, but then she’d say what we already knew: Wait until we heard from Angie.

  “Her parents eventually called me at Helen’s. They told me Angie was still recovering and asked us to say nothing. I wasn’t sure that was what Angie wanted, but what else could we do?

  “Woody had come to see me in the hospital, but mostly held the door up, clearly uncomfortable. He kept apologizing, and I kept telling him to forget it. At the time I didn’t know about Russell’s involvement, so I had no idea why he felt so guilty. I hadn’t expected him to step in and stop the fight—he couldn’t have if he tried. Sam and Marshall told Woody the same thing, but he wouldn’t let his guilt go. I think he found solace in Cheryl and marijuana. Sorry Helen.”

  Her wry comment was, “He should have stuck to marijuana.”

  “The hardest thing for me was being separated from Angie. I knew she was seeing therapists and getting better, but her father absolutely forbade her to talk to me. What neither of us knew at the time, was that an attorney representing the university had contacted her father. He had intimated that although what had happened was a tragedy, a full investigation would have to include digging into the possibility that Angie brought this on herself.”