He was a good distance from where he started and figured he would be safe to sleep for a few hours. He would get back on the road before the sun rose. As he walked, he saw an Orchard Inn. It looked perfect. He checked in and paid fifty-three dollars in cash. The woman behind the counter told him he could park near Room 22 and gave him the key.
Inside the small room, Jerry dialed for an automated wake-up call at 5:00 a.m. He was exhausted. He laid down on the bed without undressing and was asleep in minutes.
* * *
The hotel conference room became a middle of the night command center. Calls were made to surrounding businesses, hotels, restaurants, and bars. Physical description was given and inquiries were made about whether Frank Adams had been near each contact. FBI agents, city police, and Highway Patrol went in every direction, searching Interstate 40 and its off-ramps and Route 66 and cross streets for miles. They monitored taxis and truck drivers in the area to see if any hitchhiker had been picked up. They set up immediate alerts in the event of any car theft anywhere along the Interstate 40 corridor. The choppers watched it all from overhead.
Police officers were assigned to drive about sixty miles farther on to Needles, California, and with the help of local police, they began searching that city. Officers also searched nearby residential areas by going door to door with a picture of Frank Adams. They searched nearby wilderness areas on foot.
Lee was among those searching all along Route 66. He drove around each business, searching on foot behind businesses when it appeared there might be somewhere to hide. He checked in to the command post for updates every half hour. It was now 1:20 a.m., and the search involved over two hundred officers. None of them found any trace of Anders. At 1:30 a.m. and again at 2:00 a.m. Lee checked in, but there was nothing. The man had disappeared once again.
Lee continued searching but found no trace. At two thirty, Lee called in again, feeling discouraged. From the headquarters at the Day's Inn, he was told, “We have a hit; get back here quickly.”
Chapter 37
September 3, 2016
There had been no wake-up call yet, but Jerry suddenly jumped up in bed, wide awake. He checked his watch. It was only 3:10 a.m., but he felt like the walls were closing in. He had to leave now.
He washed his face and made his way to the door. Maybe he could hitch a ride with an eastbound trucker. When he opened the door, his world came crashing down. Cops were lined up across the hotel. Floodlights hit him, and someone with a megaphone told him to step out slowly.
Jerry hesitated for a single moment and then jumped back inside and slammed the door. He sat on the bed and listened.
“Jerry Anders, this is the FBI. Come out with your hands raised. There is nowhere for you to go. The hotel is surrounded.”
He looked around the room, realizing that there was no way out. This was the end of his run, and he was going to be taken into custody. He sat on the bed and stared at the wall shaking his head. He just couldn't go back to prison. This time it would be twenty-five years or more. He could not survive it. He didn't want to survive it.
He saw a metal flashlight on the end table next to the bed and made a decision in an instant. He picked it up and stuffed it into his right pant pocket, so that only the handle was visible. He thought about Vickie and how he would miss her. He thought about the Winslow kid, and one more time hoped that he was going to make it. Then he walked to the door and yelled, “I'm coming out.”
Jerry opened the door and walked outside.
“Raise your hands,” a voice yelled. He did not move his arms. “Raise your hands now!” the voice yelled louder.
Jerry reached for the flashlight and pulled it from his pocket and ran at the officers twenty feet away. He lifted the flashlight and pointed it at the line of cops as he raced forward. There were screams, and then three sudden bursts of gunfire filled the night air. In an instant, Jerry fell to the ground.
* * *
At noon, I am sitting beside Joey reading. Lisa walks into the room holding a cup of coffee in each hand and glances over at Joey. Her eyes open wide, and her expression is of stunned disbelief. I look at Joey, and his eyes are open.
“Joey. Hi, son,” I say. No response.
Lisa puts the coffee down and takes his hand. “Hi, Joey. Mom is here.” No response.
We watch as Joey seems to look to the right, then to the left, and then straight up at the ceiling. He does not seem to see us or know that we are there. Then he closes his eyes, and he is gone from us again.
Lisa is crying. “Joey, can you hear me. Please come back.” No sign of contact.
“Joe, can you hear me buddy?” I say softly. “Mom and Dad are right here.” No response. He has gone somewhere far away again—somewhere that we can't reach.
We hold each other for a time, both of us fearing the worst. He was here and couldn't make contact with us. Is that all there will ever be? Have we lost him?
Dr. Mitchell is summoned and arrives in ten minutes. We tell him what happened, and then he examines Joey.
After a time, he looks at us and says, “I can't see any change. There is really no way to account for those kinds of occurrences, except we know that sometimes patients unconsciously open their eyes and engage in a variety of movements involuntarily.”
“So does this tell us anything?” I ask in desperation.
“Not really. It could be the beginning of something more. It might just be disassociated bodily movement.”
Dr. Mitchell says, “I'm sorry I can't give you more. I'll check back later.”
He walks from the room to leave Lisa and me nursing new wounds. We had come so close to what we have been waiting for all these months, and it may be nothing. We stand watching our son for the longest time, but there is no more movement. I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. There are no words to say how harrowing it is to come that close to a miracle and have it turn out to be a false alarm.
I pick up Katy from school at 2:00 p.m. As we walk into the hospital room at 2:20, I look at Lisa to gauge her expression. She just shakes her head. Katy runs over to the bed to show Joey the drawing of an elephant seal she made at school today. She is accustomed to the way it is. She tells him all about elephant seals: their long excursions to mate and their extended beach stays for birth of their young. She never expects a response. Then she finds a spot on the floor, sits down, and pulls out her homework. It is all a normal part of her day.
At just after 4:00 p.m., Katy is looking at my iPad to see pictures of the Great Wall of China, her latest fascination. Lisa and I sit by Joey's bed. Lisa reviews a real estate contract, and I make notes about what preparation is needed on the Walters case, which goes to trial in a few weeks.
“Daddy,” Katy says with furrowed brow, “why did they need to build a wall this big in the first place?”
“Good question, sweetie. As I recall, they wanted to keep enemies away, so that no one could attack their empire.”
“They had empires?” she asks. “Like Star Wars?”
“Oh my God,” Lisa yells, and we look at her. She stands and walks to the bed. We turn to see Joey with open eyes again. He appears to be looking around.
“Joey,” Lisa says. He silently looks around. “Joey,” she says one more time.
He appears to be looking at us, but we can't tell if he sees us. There is a quiet moment, and then Joey squints and says, “Where are we anyway?”
We throw our arms around him. “Joey, can you hear me?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says with a raspy voice.
“You can hear me?” I ask again, not yet believing.
“Yeah,” he says.
“How are you?” I ask, thinking that is a rather inept question as I ask.
“What's this stuff sticking into me?”
“You had a fall, Joey. The doctors have been fixing you up.”
“Hi, Joey; I missed you,” Katy says. “Want to see some cool pictures of the Great Wall of China?”
�
��Yeah. Let me see.”
Lisa summons the nurse, who comes in quickly and stares like she isn't prepared for the occasion. “Hi, young man.”
“Hi,” Joey says. “How come I'm here?”
Lisa is crying, and I am pushing back tears. The nurse looks at Joey, and she too begins to cry. She looks at us with a wide grin. “If this isn't a miracle, I don't know what is,” she says softly. “You hungry, Joey?”
“Yeah.”
“All right, let me see what I'm allowed to give you.” She walks out of the room.
In two minutes she appears with ice cream that Joey consumes in record time. In ten minutes, Dr. Mitchell is in the room. He nods to us, a big smile on his face, and then goes over to Joey. “How are you, young man?”
“I'm okay. I have kind of a headache, and I'm still hungry.”
“Do you know who these folks are?” Dr. Mitchell asks.
Joey gives him an “Is this a joke?” look and then says, “Of course. They are my mom and dad.”
“Who is this person here?” Dr. Mitchell asks, pointing to Katy.
Joey gives him another strange look and says, “Don't you know my sister?”
Dr. Mitchell smiles and says, “Oh yeah. I guess I do remember her.” He nods approval and then says, “Joey, do you remember where you were right before you came here?”
Joey reflects a moment and then says, “Me and Katy were trapped in some big building, and we couldn't get out.”
Dr. Mitchell's face is alight. “This is amazing. More tests in twenty minutes, okay?”
We nod. As he walks out, we go over to Joey and hug him again, and again, and until we are beginning to annoy him. And we all know that this is a miracle.
* * *
After they take Joey for more testing, I check my phone and see that I have a voice mail message from Lee Henry. I hit the button and Lee's voice says, “We got him, Scott. I'm with the FBI, and we nailed him in Kingman, Arizona. Call me back when you can.”
I play the message on speaker so Lisa can hear it. “Oh my God,” she says, staring back at me. “They got Jerry Anders. After all this time, they got him.”
I hit a button, and I get Lee's voice mail message. “You have my number, so you must have something to say to me.” Then the beep.
“Lee, this is Scott. We got your message, great news. We have some of our own as well. Joey is awake. Call me.”
I look at Lisa, and she is smiling widely. She comes over to me and gives me a kiss. “I almost don't want to let myself believe we have him back,” she says. “Just in case something goes wrong.”
I nod. “It is incredible, but I feel like we are walking on eggshells. Like it could all somehow disappear, and our son is gone again.”
We both pull Katy into our hug. She says, “I'm glad Joey is back from wherever he went.” She pauses and adds, “Do you think he saw heaven?”
“I don't know, sweetheart. You'll have to ask him.”
I turn on the TV and see news coverage of the capture in Kingman. The anchor says, “Fugitive Jerry Anders was shot last night in Kingman, Arizona. The FBI surrounded the motel where Anders was staying. At about 3:00 a.m., when Anders saw that he was surrounded, it appears that he attempted suicide by police. He was shot in the right shoulder but will survive to face trial. Apparently, Anders has spent the last several months working at a Las Vegas casino under the name Frank Adams. Law enforcement found him and chased him to Kingman, where last night's showdown took place. This is Michael Ortiz, for Channel 4 News.”
My phone rings. “Hello.”
Lee says, “Your message is great, Scott. Damn, that is the best news of all.”
“We still can't believe it. He's awake, and he seems to be unimpaired. Still holding our breath.” I take a moment and then say, “Thank you for everything, Lee.”
“It's my job.” He took a moment and added. “And you're my friends.”
“When are you back in town?”
“I'll be back tomorrow.”
“I'll buy the coffee,” I say. “Call me when you're back.”
“You're on. See you tomorrow.”
It was five minutes later that Joey returned to the room with Dr. Mitchell right behind him, still grinning. “Brain swelling is less than 10 percent of what it was. We will do a little more testing, but it looks like he made it through all of this with no significant residual.” He looked at Lisa and me and added, “I can't tell you the exact odds on this recovery, but it's fair to say that you guys won the lottery.”
* * *
I hug Lee in the middle of the coffee shop where we meet. It was like brothers who hadn't seen each other for years. And that's how I feel about him. “You were amazing, Lee. I am in your debt forever, my friend.”
He shrugs. “Anytime, my friend. You have been there for me as well. When I was starting my fledging business, you were the guy who kept tossing me assignments. It's what friends do for each other.” He adds, “I am just so glad that Joey is okay.”
His compassionate expression slowly turns to a grin. “What?” I ask.
“Well, I guess I benefited from the trip to Vegas, too.”
“Yeah, how?”
“I got a date with a gorgeous FBI agent.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Believe it or not, I'm going back to Vegas Saturday to take her out.”
“Wow. You must really like her.”
“I think I do. She mentioned that we had a 'geographically undesirable' issue that might be a problem. I told her that we should take it date by date. I know this is crazy, but this woman is really something. I'm already thinking about weekends together, and I don't even know if she likes me that much.”
“I get it,” I say. “I still feel that way about Lisa. After all these years, I still react when she walks into the room.”
We finish our coffee, and Lee says, “Will you walk out to the car with me?”
“Sure,” I say.
We walk to his car, and he opens the trunk and hands me a cloth shopping bag. I look inside and see bundled cash. “What is this?” I ask.
“You're a lawyer. I know you've seen money from time to time.” He grins. “This is the balance after my out-of-pocket expenses of chasing Anders were deducted.”
“Balance from what?”
“Call it contributions to Joey's medical bills from a compassionate, creative artist who desperately wanted to lend a hand.”
* * *
September 17, 2016
Joey is released from the hospital, and we get to take him home today. All of his tests are good. No brain injury, no memory deficits—just pure miracle.
When we get home, the kids go upstairs to play, and Lisa and I are left alone in the living room. I put my arms around her and kiss her.
“Wow,” she says. “What did I do to earn that?”
“It's a long list, but in a nutshell, you gave me those two characters upstairs, and you and they are the essence of my life. I am grateful.”
“Me too,” she says. “We made it through some dark times, and I believe that we were given a miracle.”
From upstairs we hear, “Give that back. That's mine.”
“Get out of my room,” is the response.
“You are a butthead.”
And with that conversation, we know our family is back. We laugh, and then I kiss my lovely wife again.
October 13, 2016
When Jerry Anders was patched up and returned to Los Angeles, the media filled the courtroom where his arraignment was to occur. There were other reporters in a courtroom down the hall, where the proceeding was being televised to accommodate all of the demand.
“Next case is the People v. Gerald Anders,” Judge Robert Hughes announced.
“Good morning, Your Honor. Brad Segar for the people.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Kathy Carter of the Public Defender's Office for Mr. Anders.”
“Read the charges, please.”
The courtroom clerk stood and read
, “Kidnapping, two counts; false imprisonment, two counts; and extortion; two counts assault and battery.”
Jerry stood next to Kathy Carter without movement or expression. The judge regarded him briefly and then said, “How does your client plead, Ms. Carter?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor.”
“As to the defendant's request for bail, it is denied. There is no doubt that Mr. Anders is a flight risk.”
Judge Hughes looked at the clerk and then at his computer monitor. “Okay, the preliminary hearing for December 8, 2016. See you all then.”
Jerry was escorted away while flashes went off all around him. Reporters scribbled notes, and photographers positioned for clear pictures. Jerry never turned around to see that Vickie sat in the back of the courtroom, watching her brother without expression. She fought for him so many times, but there had to be limits, and he had reached those limits when he endangered Katy and Joey Winslow. If he was to spend the rest of his days in prison, she would come to terms with that. If their parents were watching her, they would see how hard she tried to help her brother.
Chapter 38
November 15, 2016
It took a full day to select the twelve citizens who would serve as the jury in the case of Kevin Walters v. Consolidated Energy. Our jury consists of a social worker, a newspaper editor, a small-business owner, a city engineer, a homemaker, a retail store employee, a receiving dock supervisor, a painter, an investment adviser, a tech industry programmer, and two retired workers, one from the hospitality industry and the other from the financial industry. We have five women and seven men.
Juries are, in every sense, our neighbors. They are the people walking around CVS and Costco and filling their cars at the gas station. They are the people who sell you insurance and the people who buy the car you are selling. They are a cross-section of every type of background, culture, and employment history, with one exception. No one employed in the industry involved in the case will be allowed to remain on the jury. They must decide the matter based upon the evidence and law they get in court, not their preconceived notions of the way an industry works. Otherwise, different jurors would be deciding a case based upon different facts—facts that would not be admissible in court for good reason.
[2017] The Whistleblower Onslaught Page 35
