Forgotten Witness

by Rebecca Forster

  “Pick up,” she whispered. “Please, pick up.”

  When he didn’t, Josie leaned against the wall and took a minute. She felt like she was going in to court prepped but not prepared, passionate but already the underdog. She laughed at the fleeting thought that it would be nice to have Stephen Kyle with her. He would get Senator Patriota’s attention. Then again, Josie imagined she already had that – or at least she had Eugene Weller’s. There was no going back, no calling for reinforcements, so Josie hitched her case and opened the door.

  “Ms. Bates.” A handsome middle-aged woman hailed her before the door closed. “I’m Norma, the senator’s secretary.”

  “I don’t remember you from the last time I was here,” Josie said.

  “I’m his personal secretary. We had staff to take care of you during the hearings. I understand the Senator has carved out a half on hour for you. You must have made quite an impression when he last saw you.”

  “I don’t think so,” Josie answered, “but I hope I will this time.”

  “Then follow me. I know he’s waiting.”

  They didn’t have far to go and yet it felt like Josie was walking the green mile. Josie caught the eye of an aide who was speaking on the phone. He seemed to look through her. At another desk, two young women were engaged in serious debate about the order of a presentation book. This could have been any office in any city in any state but it wasn’t. This was the office of the man who could help Josie get justice for her parents, Ian Francis, and all the people who were harmed by what the government had done.

  “Here you are.” Norma held open the door to Ambrose Patriota’s office.

  “Thank you,” Josie murmured and stepped inside.

  The senator sat behind the desk dressed in a dark grey suit, an eggshell colored shirt, and a salmon colored tie. His arm was on his desk and Josie noted the glint of light off his gold cuff links. He was listening intently to Eugene Weller who looked exactly the same as he had weeks ago. He was the forgettable man in a well-cut suit. But when they looked at her, Eugene Weller took on the appearance of a man alight with purpose.

  “Ms. Bates.” Senator Patriota rose but made her come to him.

  “Senator. I appreciate you taking time to see me.” Josie shook his hand when she got close enough.

  “Not at all.”

  He gestured toward a chair that was just far enough away from the desk to make a visitor feel slightly unwelcome. Josie pulled the it closer.

  “Mr. Weller.” Josie gave him a nod as she put down her briefcase.

  “Ms. Bates.”

  “Well,” Ambrose began. “I won’t insult you with small talk. I understand that you have something grave you wish to share with me.”

  “I do,” Josie said. “The last time we talked, you told me that people like Ian Francis needed someone to speak for them. You joked that, perhaps, he should have hired a lawyer if he wanted to be heard.

  “Senator, I am a lawyer. I am speaking for Ian Francis and for my mother and my father. I want to tell you about a conspiracy and crimes committed on those three citizens and other–”

  “I already know, Ms. Bates.” Ambrose interrupted her as if they had met on the street and he had no time to gossip.

  “You know about Ha Kuna House?”

  “I do,” the senator said. “Eugene?”

  The younger man produced a thick file. He placed it on Patriota’s desk and stepped back. The senator opened it and looked at the first piece of paper.

  “I have a most disturbing overview of an operation that, unfortunately, is the last vestige of a terrible time in our history. CHATTER, Artichoke, MKUltra.” He shook his head as he lamented the history. “So many more horrendously executed programs. Our government should be ashamed.”

  “The government should be held accountable,” Josie corrected.

  “I understand your mother was one of the unfortunate victims,” Ambrose went on. “I am distressed to hear that. Eugene’s research, unfortunately, came too late to help her. I have been briefed about the fire. My sincere condolences.”

  “Yes, there was a fire,” Josie said even as she realized he was only going through the motions. He was looking right at her and not seeing the healing burns on her lips, her shorn hair, and the hand that was still red and swollen. “Senator. Look at me.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I need you to pay attention to me,” Josie insisted. “First, the history of this project it is not unfortunate, it is appalling. Second, my mother is safe and well.”

  Eugene’s eyes flickered to Patriota who registered no surprise. For Josie, though, Eugene Weller’s reaction told her all she needed to know. They had been following the events more closely than she imagined.

  “We have a report that six bodies were recovered,” Ambrose said. “Isn’t that true Eugene?”

  “Yes, sir, but the bodies haven’t been identified. It was assumed they were the residents.”

  “Where are the bodies?” Josie asked.

  “I don’t have that information,” Eugene answered.

  “I’m sure you’ll follow up on that Eugene,” Ambrose said. “But it won’t be of interest to you, Ms. Bates, since your mother is well.”

  “You’re talking about this like it was a fender bender and we’re exchanging insurance information. At least twenty-five U.S. citizens were unwittingly used for experimentation. I don’t know how they ended up in Ha Kuna House or why, but I think this is something that deserves to be investigated.”

  “Certainly it deserves looking into, but not by me. I will, however, pass along this information to Senator Calister. His committee interfaces with the DOD and I think that is the appropriate place to start. Don’t you Eug–”

  Ambrose never finished his thought. Josie was on her feet, her hand slamming down on his very expensive desk.

  “Don’t you dare pass this off. Don’t you dare,” she snapped.

  Eugene Weller fell back a step before recovering from his shock and lunging for the phone. He picked it up.

  “Securi–” he began but Ambrose stopped him.

  “No, Eugene. That’s not necessary.”

  For a minute Josie thought Eugene wasn’t going to do as he was told. Finally, he put down the receiver.

  “Sit down, Josie. I may call you Josie, may I not?” Ambrose asked.

  “I don’t think so, Senator.” The only thing that landed in the chair was her briefcase. She opened the latches as she spoke. “When I was here before you told me that there was no need to advocate for Ian Francis. You dismissed him as an insane person. Well, Senator, Ian Francis was only crazy because people in this town, in this government, made him that way. They took his life and my mother’s as sure as if you executed them. Collateral damage was me and my father and Ian Francis’ daughter.”

  Josie took a deep breath and grasped the first section of files. She pulled them out and put them in front of Patriota.

  “I don’t want to be referred. I don’t want Eugene here being tasked to look into things. I want someone with the power to make this right and that is you. You want to be president? Then act presidential. Find out what Marigold is and how far it reaches, make reparations, and make whoever is responsible pay.”

  “Senator, please, let me get security,” Eugene pleaded.

  “No. No need. I will give Ms. Bates the answers she wants.” He gestured toward the chair again. “Now, sit down.”

  Josie was like a live wire in a puddle of water, dancing, sparking, dangerous because she couldn’t control her ire. She should have waited for Archer. She should have brought Stephen. She should have held back until she could speak as a lawyer and not a daughter. But she was here now so all the choices were hers. Patriota nodded again. She moved her briefcase and sat.

  “Eugene, I wonder if you might leave us.”

  “I don’t think that’s wise, Senator,” Eugene objected.

  Josie looked at him. Her blue eyes were like ice and her jaw was made of s
tone and he was afraid to leave her with Ambrose Patriota. Still, he had no choice.

  “Where is your mother, now?” Ambrose asked when the door closed and Eugene was gone.

  “That isn’t your concern yet. Not until there are hearings,” Josie answered.

  “There won’t be hearings, Ms. Bates.” When Josie didn’t respond, his curiosity got the best of him. “Do you want to know why?”

  “It seems you want to tell me.”

  “There is only one reason and that is because they would be futile. Everyone who was responsible for what happened to your mother is dead or of no consequence. Who would we punish? Who would we apologize to?”

  “You know about Marigold, don’t you? What is it?” Josie asked.

  “Marigold was the name assigned to the project to care for those people who were affected by some of our more ambitious attempts to understand the human mind. MKUltra and CHATTER subjects were among them. The people who participated were well cared for and given the best of everything. If you saw the house in Hawaii, you know that. Sadly, we were never able to reverse the effects of their treatments but we did not abandon them.”

  “Participated?” Josie breathed. “These people didn’t participate. They were kidnapped and assaulted. The government is not excused when their actions are egregious just because they offer a bed to the tortured.”

  “The government has paid a high price for MKUltra,” Ambrose argued, unhappy that she wasn’t pacified. “We lost the confidence of our citizens even though we had their best interests at heart. Certainly we can be misguided, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t good to come from all these things. We learned so much about the mind and our soldiers benefited. Because of these programs, we learned to create weapons that attack the brain and not the body.”

  “You destroyed lives,” Josie countered.

  “Do not make us out to be barbarians. We cared for those we hurt.”

  “That’s what Ha Kuna House was? The government’s way of making up? You should have just finished the job you started and killed them. It would have been kinder. It sure as heck would have been cheaper.”

  A tremor of shock and surprise ran through Ambrose Patriota. It was the first real emotion Josie had seen from the man.

  “You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that.”

  “You kept twenty-five people hidden away and waited for them to die. Why not put them out of their misery?”

  “Because this is America. We don’t kill indiscriminately. We care for our own.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Josie breathed. “Are you listening to yourself? You really believe the government is the priority.”

  “No, not the government. The country and all it embodies. The goodness, the ethic, and the morality that is synonymous with America. It is what I, and all those who came before me, protect. There are always those who must sacrifice for that. Our warriors, ambassadors, our citizens–”

  “You’re crazier than Ian Francis was. Do you hear yourself? These people didn’t sacrifice, they were ripped away from their families,” Josie argued.

  “They had no families.” This time it was Patriota’s hand that came down hard on the desk, his eyes that flashed. “Their lives had purpose because of what was done to them. What we found out helped our soldiers survive prison camps and interminable deployments and…”

  “My mother had family.” Josie was half out of her chair and fighting back. “Someone has to pay. I want the records opened. I want to know how many facilities like Ha Kuna House are viable. I want autopsies on the people who died in that fire. I want to understand what was done to these people.”

  She pushed the files toward him.

  “These are meticulous records. Nazi Germany kept records of their ‘experiments’ as if it was something to be proud of and so did this government. Read these, Senator, and then tell me how humane these programs were.”

  “Do you want me to be ashamed? If that’s all you want, sit down and I will read them now.”

  “I want more than that. I want you to go public. If you won’t, I will go to every media outlet and release these documents.”

  “And I have the power to stop you. You realize that, don’t you? I have the pulpit, Josie, not you. I have the power, not you.”

  “And I have the passion. And I have my mother. People will look at her–”

  “They will look at her the same way they looked at Ian Francis. She is just a sad, crazy person.”

  Josie drew up and stood tall. She lowered her voice.

  “There is a man named Michael Horn. His grandfather was a victim. The Supreme Court is poised to hear his case.”

  “That case will never be heard.” Ambrose said.

  “You’re not that powerful,” Josie scoffed.

  “No, but God is. Mr. Horn died two days ago. A hit and run while he was jogging.” Ambrose chuckled at her expression. He knew what she was thinking. “No. No spy games. The road was dark. A woman hit him. Fate intervened. No one will pick up Michael Horn’s cause, and he will not be one of your soldiers.”

  Ambrose stood up and went around his chair. He rested his arms on the high back, relaxing now he had the upper hand.

  “Josie, there is no one who remembers or cares about these things. Ha Kuna House is gone. I doubt your basketful of files will add up to an indictment. You don’t want to be Michael Horn and spend fifteen years of your life working through the court system looking for some sort of justice. Go back to your business. There is no pound of flesh to be had; at least none that will satisfy you.”

  Josie listened to Ambrose Patriota’s smooth voice, his concern for her life, his logical arguments, but her gaze was fixed on the wall behind him where pictures of a prestigious life were displayed. There was only one picture that interested her; the one of Ambrose Patriota, young and in uniform, his eyes hidden by the black bill of his hat.

  She had known him before.

  She had seen him before.

  She had been younger then and looking up at a man taller than she was.

  Josie got out of her chair and walked behind him. Patriota swiveled around to watch as Josie took the picture off the wall. She looked from the picture to him and smiled grimly.

  “I know whose pound of flesh I want. It’s yours.”

  Josie tossed the picture onto his desk as she walked back to where her briefcase was. She talked while she swept her files back in to her case.

  “The night my mother disappeared she was talking to a man in uniform. I saw them but they didn’t see me.” Josie snapped her case shut and looked at him. “You were in our living room. You were the one who convinced her to leave. What did you tell her? Why did you take her?”

  “Eugene was correct to be worried about you. I must give him credit. I had to be reminded about your mother and father and I have no idea what I told her. It was so long ago. I was so ambitious back then. My superiors were very pleased with how I solved the problem of your father. It seemed a little thing at the time. It was a little thing. “

  Josie stood up straight. She felt lightheaded. She had not really expected an answer; she had not been prepared for an admission. Her jaw twitched. Her gut clenched. The great man thought her mother was a footnote, a little thing, her father was of no consequence and both of them were stepping-stone in his career. Now, facing off with Josie, he was once again convinced of his superiority. She, too, was a little thing.

  He shouldn’t have been so cocky.

  “This little thing has come back to bite you, Senator.” Josie said. “I intend to destroy you. I don’t care it if takes days or months or years. I will not let my mother and father be forgotten, I will not let the country be served by a man who does not see its citizens as worthy of his attention or protection. I swear that I will not end up dead on the roadside like Michael Horn or mindless like my mother. I promise, I will finish what my father started. “

  Josie turned to leave but Ambrose called to her before she reached the door.
/>   “Those files are the property of the United States Government, Ms. Bates.”

  Josie paused. Her lips tipped up and she considered Ambrose Patriota with a lazy gaze. She hefted the case, unhinged the latches and dumped the contents on the floor.

  “They’re all yours.”

  “Think about what you are doing. What was done is done. It is history,” Ambrose warned.

  “We learn from history.” Josie ambled toward him until she was close enough to put him on his guard. “I will make a deal, Senator. Step aside. Do not stand for nomination. You will retire when your term is over and disappear. No speaking engagements, no books. Do that, and I will back off. “

  “You can’t stop everything you find distasteful. That is the way of the world, Josie.”

  “I can try, Ambrose,” she said as she turned to leave. Before she opened the door, she had one more thing to say. “I’ve changed my mind. You’ve got two weeks.”

  “I can barely hear you. Jo? You there?” – Archer

  “Archer? You’re breaking up?” – Josie

  “I’ll be home… Okay?” – Archer

  “Archer?” – Josie

  CHAPTER 31

  Burt washed glasses. Josie sat at the counter and Max was lying at her feet. The television flickered and the joint wasn’t quite jumping. It was that odd afternoon time when people tried to sneak out of work early on a Friday and only half of them made it. In another few hours Burt’s by the Beach would be too busy for Josie’s taste. These days she wanted to be home. Still, it was the perfect place to meet for the big event.

  “What do you hear from Amelia?” Burt asked.

  “Stephen has them all settled,” Josie answered.

  “That Stephen was a piece of work. I’d like to have some gorgeous girls to go home to.” Burt held up a glass, gave it one last wipe, and put it on the shelf behind him. “What about Emily?”

  Josie crossed her arms on the counter and smiled. “She’s happy to be home.”