by Webb Hubbell
Doug’s stooping posture bore witness to his life in academia: too many hours spent leaning over microscopes or staring at computer screens. I vaguely recalled a clean-cut guy in polos, but today he wore a blue prison jumpsuit and canvas slippers that dwarfed his feet. The deputy removed his handcuffs, ankle shackles, and the chain belt connecting them both. We greeted each other with a handshake and awkward hug. His voice was deeper than I remembered.
“Thanks for coming, Jack. I’m sorry to drag you here, and I know it looks bad, but you’re the only one I can trust.” Doug said as he sat down across the table.
I wasn’t sure what to say so I took the easy route.
“We can talk about why you’re here in a minute. I haven’t seen Liz yet, but I’m sure she’ll want to know you’re physically okay. So, tell me. How are they’re treating you? How’d you get that shiner?” I asked fearing Doug had already met unfriendly cellmates.
“I’m fine. One of the DEA agents gave me the black eye when he stomped on my face. I’m a lot safer in a cell with fifteen other prisoners than I was with them. We take turns sleeping on four bunks and share a toilet in the corner. Other than the lack of privacy, I really am okay. Actually the shiner helps. My new friends are giving me advice on how to claim police brutality,” he deadpanned.
The Feds didn’t have any lockdown facilities of their own other than a few holding cells in the courthouse, so anyone they arrested landed in the county jail. So far, Micki’s concern for Doug’s safety seemed baseless.
“Unless you’re a sex offender or a snitch, you’re probably safer in county jail than in Little Rock’s high schools. Of course, it helps that my cellmates all know why I’m in. I’ve had some interesting business propositions,” he snickered.
Doug appeared to be in surprisingly good spirits, not intimidated by his circumstances. I told him what to expect at the arraignment, and that Micki and Liz had been working to make sure he’d make bail and be out by Monday afternoon. A quizzical eyebrow went up at Micki’s name.
“Doug, I’m no expert on drug cases. I’m an antitrust lawyer. Liz has hired Micki Lawrence, a criminal defense attorney. She worked with me when I defended Woody Cole. She’s top-notch, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have on my side.”
“You don’t need to justify her to me; I assumed you’d need local counsel. Work with Liz on the money issues, but I’m prepared to pay whatever. You know what’s at stake.”
This conversation was headed down the wrong path. I wasn’t about to defend Doug. I had to set Doug straight immediately.
“Of course, I realize what’s at stake. You’re likely to spend a long time in jail and lose your home. The Feds claim you’re a drug dealer and a terrorist who preys on kids. Every newspaper and newscast leads with the story. Your entire future and reputation are on the line. That’s why I’m glad Liz hired Micki. She’s as good as it gets. You don’t need me; you need an experienced criminal defense lawyer.”
Doug stared down at his hands clasped between his knees.
“I’m sorry, Doug. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to Little Rock at all. I didn’t mean. . . .” He reached out his arm to stop my babbling—a trick I myself used more often than I’d like to admit.
“No, I’m the one who should apologize. I thought Angie had told you everything. She obviously didn’t. Remember when she made you promise to defend me, and you agreed? I thought you knew why.”
“What does Angie have to do with this?” I jerked my arm away. I heard my voice change, raspy with a little hard edge. I couldn’t help it. “You’re likely to be charged with possessing, growing, and selling boatloads of marijuana. What does any of that have to do with Angie? Don’t try to drag my Angie into your problems.”
He remained calm, oddly the one in control. Had I fallen down a rabbit hole?
“Jack, if you don’t want to get involved, I understand. Angie warned me I would probably be arrested. She said you’d be my only hope at that point. We both knew I was taking a terrible risk, and I went forward with my eyes wide open. Don’t feel guilty. I have no right to hold you to a promise made a long time ago that you don’t remember.”
That stung–I struggled to remember. He continued.
“I told them about my research before I planted the first seedling. But I understand why you don’t want to defend a ‘drug dealer.’ You have a reputation to keep.”
That stung deeper.
He smiled. “Thanks for coming, Jack. I appreciate it. Liz will be glad to know how much you respect Micki. I’m disappointed, but I understand.” He looked down at his hands again, lost in thought, finished with me.
Suddenly that night became crystal clear. Angie had been adamant. Over cocktails, she’d gotten me to agree to represent Doug if he got into any trouble. Wondering what kind of trouble this mild-mannered chemist could get into, I’d gone along, more to lighten the mood than anything else. I brought it up with Angie when we got home, but she’d turned prickly, said she needed a hot bath. I figured she’d cool off, but she never brought up the subject up again. That evening’s promise retreated in the face of cancer, the increasingly hopeless treatments, and the awful pain.
I felt like a jerk. I didn’t want to get caught up in a lost cause, but the least I could do was be polite. I took a deep breath.
“Doug, I’m sorry. I’m overly sensitive when it comes to Angie. I do remember that night, but unfortunately Angie never gave me any details. To be honest, she got sick and I forgot about it. I still don’t think I’m the right lawyer for you, but I want to know what this is all about. Why don’t I just listen for a change?”
Doug smiled wryly.
“Angie talked about you all the time. She’d say, ‘every now and then, Jack gets ahead of himself, talking before he thinks. When that happens, I’ve learned to keep quiet. It only takes a minute. Pretty soon he’ll stop and think. You’ll see.’ Watching you shift gears, I can almost hear her.”
I had to clear my throat before I could reply, “I’m all ears, Professor. Why don’t you tell me what’s really at stake, and then we’ll figure out if I can help.”
At that very moment, the deputy stepped in.
“I’m sorry, counsel, but it’s past four o’clock, and I have to get the prisoner back to the County Jail before dinner. The marshal says you can see him again tomorrow at one o’clock.”
The deputy’s offer was more than reasonable. I couldn’t complain, especially after he agreed to let Micki come as well. As he brought out the handcuffs and shackles, I turned to Doug.
“I promise to do the listening tomorrow, but is there anything you want me to tell Liz?”
“Liz doesn’t know much about this. Just tell her I love her, I’m okay, and things will get better now that you’re here. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, but here’s your takeaway for today: it’s not about the marijuana.”
7
AS CLOVIS AND I walked the empty halls of the courthouse, I wondered what Doug meant by—“it’s not about the marijuana.” What in the hell else could it be about? I also thought about Doug. Just now he had seemed very solid, undaunted by the circumstances, certainly not the image of a drug dealer, yet his backyard was full of marijuana.
Maybe Doug had been tending his garden a little too often. Dub had already convinced the press he was a major drug dealer and terrorist. Micki would really be up against it if Doug was delusional.
The deputy was now blocking the back door so we couldn’t sneak out that way. When we reached the front entrance, I saw a bank of microphones already in place on the steps. I hesitated at the door.
“Well, we can either try to hustle our way through or I can walk up and answer their questions. Where’s the car?”
Clovis shrugged. “Still out back. Your call, but they need a story. If you don’t give them one, Dub will.”
“Aw, hell—they already know I’m here, I might as well get it over with. But if I start to make a fool of myself, rescue me, okay?”
; I made a beeline to the mics, catching the press a little off-guard.
“My name is Jack Patterson. I assume you think I’m here to represent Dr. Stewart. I’m not. He’s a friend and a former colleague of my late wife. I don’t normally talk to the press regarding a pending legal matter, but I hope that by answering a few questions I can dispel any further misconceptions. Fire away.”
“Do you represent Dr. Stewart?”
“No, Dr. Stewart’s wife has engaged Micki Lawrence to represent him.” Micki was going to shoot me for letting this information out before arraignment.
“Is the professor connected to Woody Cole in any way?”
“No. To my knowledge Dr. Stewart and Mr. Cole have never met.”
“Dr. Stewart told U.S. Attorney Blanchard that you represent him. If you aren’t going to be his lawyer, why are you here?”
Micki had asked the same question, and I wasn’t sure of the answer. So I did the Texas two-step.
“As I said earlier, he and I are friends, and he worked with my wife. I don’t know why he told Mr. Blanchard I was his lawyer. I have the utmost confidence in Ms. Lawrence, and I’m here to offer the Stewarts my support. I can’t believe his arrest is anything but a misunderstanding.”
I heard a few muffled snickers. They were justified. Someone in the rear shouted,
“When will charges be filed?”
“I have no idea. I’m not privy to the U.S. attorney’s plans. One more question.” It was time to leave.
“Dub Blanchard says Dr. Stewart was a major supplier of drugs to Little Rock’s school children and a terrorist. How can you suggest his arrest is a misunderstanding? He had over a hundred marijuana plants growing in his back yard.” Fair question.
“The Dr. Stewart I know is a world famous chemist who has devoted his life to serving humanity and science. I’m sure your questions will be answered in due course, but I hope you will all give him the presumption of innocence our Constitution guarantees.”
Hiding behind the Constitution never works, but it was all I had. I’d given the press some copy and not done too much damage to Micki’s defense. I gave Clovis the high sign and we walked around back to his Tahoe, ignoring their shouted questions. The reporters were unhappy, but at that point, so what? A lawyer’s job is to win his case in the courtroom, not become a media darling.
“Clovis, Doug Stewart threw me for a few loops today. The deputy marshal shut it down before I could get many answers, but Micki and I get to see him again tomorrow. I sure hope he can explain why he grew all that grass.”
“You getting involved after all?”
“I hope not. I don’t know him well, but he seems like a stand-up kind of guy, and I know Angie thought a lot of him. But I run a foundation that doesn’t need me to get mixed up in a drug case. He seems to be okay with Micki, but maybe I can help a little from the sidelines. You up to doing a little investigative work? Just for the fun of it?”
Clovis chuckled. “Shit, I knew trouble was landing when your plane touched the ground. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Well, I’m curious. Dub insists Stewart is a major league drug dealer. I know Dub’s a blowhard and inclined to put his foot in his mouth, but he wouldn’t get this far out on a limb unless he had some sort of solid proof. Besides, Main Justice wouldn’t let Dub get involved with a local grower unless he was part of a cartel or selling other big-time drugs. Liz told Micki that Doug only used the pot for research, claims he never sold a single leaf. So, nothing adds up. I’d like some answers before I get back to my never-ending board meetings. That’s all.”
The corner of his mouth turned down skeptically as he brought me back to reality.
“No offense, Jack, but I’d cool it for at least a day. Maybe he’ll tell you what he was doing with all that grass. Maybe it’ll all make sense, but the facts seem pretty straight to me. If Micki can deal with Dub, he’ll be out on bail by Monday. You need to put the brakes on that engine of yours.”
He had a point.
“The professor got caught with some weed, it’s that simple. Micki handles these cases in her sleep. People grow marijuana for two reasons: to make money or to use it themselves, usually both. Don’t let your imagination get the better of you.”
Clovis and I had been through a lot the year before, so his blunt words of advice came as no surprise. Besides, he was right. I was sticking my nose in Micki’s business because I was bored with my own. I gave it up and was well into a mental checklist of friends I hoped to see when Clovis muttered, “I’ll be damned.”
“What?” I looked up.
“I’ve been lecturing you about not getting worked up, and damned if we ain’t being followed. Shit, Jack. Can’t anything you do be simple?”
I instinctively turned around.
Clovis said, “It’s the black Infiniti a few cars back.”
“Really? You sure it’s not some old girlfriend following you?”
8
THE MAN DRIVING the Infiniti instinctively knew he’d been made. He made a quick right turn. Damn that Clovis Jones, he thought. He shouldn’t have taken the risk. Keeping an eye on Liz and Micki was a piece of cake, but he’d gotten sloppy, and now he’d have to throw Jones off his scent.
He parked the car on a side street and called a cab. A new car would be waiting for him tonight in a lot downtown, the Infiniti long gone. As he waited, his phone beeped the arrival of an incoming message—the report on Patterson’s meeting with the professor from Smith’s source inside the courthouse. He knew Patterson could quickly become an irritant, but right now he was more worried about Jones.
“HE’S GONE,” I said. “Maybe it was a false alarm.”
“No, he was tailing us,” Clovis said, as his eyes moved rapidly back and forth from the rear-view mirror to the road ahead.
“It’s pretty simple. Someone’s worried about what the professor might have told you. In the drug world, the first guy caught rats everybody else out up and down the chain. Someone’s worried you’ve come to town to make a deal. Every doper in town knows Micki won’t let her clients plead out by fingering their cohorts. She drops them like a hot potato. If we’d gone to Sam’s office after talking to the Professor, you could bet the rats would be deserting town tonight.”
“Well, maybe I should go see Sam,” I kidded.
Sam Pagano was the first friend I’d made when I moved to Little Rock as a kid. He was Pulaski County’s public defender for years before he was elected prosecuting attorney. Maybe he could shed some light on Doug Stewart.
We pulled up to the Hotel Armitage, and after changing and cleaning up, I went to meet Micki and Clovis in the hotel’s bar. I felt my heart miss a beat or two when I entered the familiar room. I loved its dark oak paneling and its comfortable musty smell. The only sounds were quiet strains of jazz and the low rumble of voices, no blaring racket from big screen TV’s. I found Micki and Clovis seated at a quiet corner, far removed from the bustle of the late afternoon crowd. She had changed into slim white pants and a shimmery blue silk blouse. I noticed a hint of mascara and the sheen of lip-gloss, unusual for her. I took a breath and asked for a Bombay Martini, extra dry with olives.
“I hope you got dressed up for me.” I knew I shouldn’t flirt, but couldn’t resist. She didn’t seem to mind.
Smiling smugly, she retorted, “Well, no—I’m meeting a client. The rule for the female professional is not to overdress, but not to diminish your client by dressing down. You know what? I bet when Liz appears, I’ll feel underdressed.”
The waiter brought our drinks, and I filled Micki in on my meeting with Doug. She agreed that Doug was delusional if he thought it wasn’t about the drugs. Dub’s office had been fairly cooperative in allowing Liz to get her clothes and some basics. The calico cat was enjoying life at a neighbor’s, and Liz had found a place to rent near her spa.
“Clovis told me you want him to do some investigative work. Sounds like I have my partner back. What’s up? ”
“I don’t want to get ahead of you, but I have a few ideas. What you do with them is up to you.”
“I remember your ‘shower thoughts,’” she said with an easy laugh. “Fire away.”
“Dub has a slam dunk against Doug on the growing charges, but instead of playing it straight, he’s going to great lengths to trash him, accusing him of selling to kids and being a terrorist. He’s on a media blitz, appearing on every TV show he can. I don’t see the point, but we shouldn’t underestimate him. Dub learned how to sling mud with the best when he worked for the Senate Judiciary Committee. He knew just how to play the press when his senator wanted to kill a judicial nomination. He may be a media hound with zero legal skills, but he has a doctorate in character assassination.”
“So what do you think he’s up to?” Micki asked.
“He’s brought in all these suits from Main Justice, not to mention the DEA—why? He’s kept his own staff and the local authorities totally out of the loop, even Sam—why? Why all this secrecy and firepower for a local drug bust? I smell a skunk. Clovis, this is where you come in.”
“Happy to do what I can—what do you have in mind?”
“Well, if Doug were really a major supplier in Little Rock, somebody had to have known it. And why is Dub so hell-bent on discrediting Doug? If he’s no more than your garden-variety dealer and pusher, why all the hoopla? It doesn’t make sense. Nose around a little, see what you can find out.”
I asked a few teasers about gambling and underworld connections in both Little Rock and Arkansas in general. It wasn’t long before Micki and Clovis took over, tossing information and ideas back and forth while I listened, enjoying my martini and trying to absorb what I heard. It seemed my old hometown had quite the dark side. The name “Novak” came up more than once. From what I’d heard about the man, it seemed he had a lot bigger fish to fry, but then again, Doug had grown a whole lot of grass.
