“Yes, I’d like that,” he answered.
“You’d like what?” she asked.
“I’d like to walk around the room.”
“If I say you can, you’ll move to the far wall and stay in front of me?”
“I’ll stay in front of you near the wall. You have my word.”
“One last thing. You do realize I have a call button and can have help in here in less than three seconds?”
“Yes. I know you have a call button and can have help here in seconds if I don’t follow your orders. Now can I get up?”
Shelly nodded. “You can stand up and walk around a bit. Your legs must be awfully cramped.”
Outside the room, Deidre and Ben watched as Jesper tried to loosen up his legs. He looked like a pet dog who wore a shock collar and would do anything to avoid being zapped. They were amazed at the change in his demeanor.
*****
Down the hall, Agent Morst was approaching his subject differently. “Captain Blake. My superiors have decided that we’ll get nowhere if we continue to allow Agent DeLand to badger you. I’ll be dealing with you alone.” Blake looked a little puzzled but said nothing. He was still defiant. “Tell me, Captain, is there anything you need?”
For the first time, Blake broke his silence. “I want a lawyer,” he demanded.
Jonathan Morst smirked. “Sir, you don’t have that option.”
“I know my rights,” Blake shot back. “And I demand to have a lawyer present.”
“Look, Captain,” Morst said matter-of-factly. “You are being held in a county jail for expediency’s sake. It was the nearest place with interrogation rooms.” Blake looked at him, not grasping what was being said. “You’re in a military uniform, not a United States military uniform, I might add. You set up a military outpost on U.S. soil, and seem to have put together your own army—small, that’s true, but an army nevertheless. Then, too, you sent this message to Agent VanGotten. Here is a transcript of what it said.” He slid a piece of paper across the table to Blake.
“Time is running out,” the message read. “Come get your wife. Realize we are in a state of war, and I can’t guarantee your wife’s safety forever.” Blake read the message and shrugged, still not picking up on its implication. “What’s that got to do with my having a lawyer present?”
“By your own words, you have declared war on the United States of America. That means you will be tried by a military tribunal, and the laws governing the Miranda Act and the right to an attorney do not pertain. You are being held by the U.S Army and the FBI as a combatant prisoner of war, a war you declared.”
Major Jensen and Director Benton had discussed in detail what tact should be taken and had decided on a strategy. They concluded that the need for immediate information precluded legal correctness. There were too many witnesses to what had happened to allow Blake and the others to plead “not guilty” in a civil court of law and get by with their crimes. Even if anything they said during this interrogation period was thrown out, there still remained enough bullets in a prosecutor’s gun to get a conviction. They had decided to use the wartime ploy to get the information they needed in the most efficient manner, and that was to create doubt in the prisoners’ minds.
“So, you see, Captain Blake,” Jonathan emphasized the word Captain for effect, “You will not be seeing a lawyer. Right now, Agent DeLand—you do remember her, don’t you, the nice-looking redheaded woman agent?—she’s having coffee with Corporal Landman, and they are having a most interesting conversation. Want to know what they were talking about?” Morst didn’t wait for an answer. “They’re talking about a young man beaten to death last spring. They’re talking about a railroad being sabotaged, about an old man’s home being defaced, about a church being desecrated. They’re talking about a whole lot of things and who was responsible. The last I heard, Jesper was naming names. Funny how often yours came up.”
Blake flew into a rage and tried to stand up but his wrist shackles prevented him from rising. He pounded his fists on the table, becoming more infuriated as Jonathan calmly sat inches out of his reach, smiling. It might have been the smile that broke the dam.
“You smug SOB!” Blake shouted, a vein in the center of his forehead standing out like a purple cord. “In a year, or two years, or however long it takes, you’re going to regret being a puppet for this thing we call a government. Do you have any idea how many militias are in existence in our country? In 2007 there were forty-three; 2010, three hundred, and today, more than twelve hundred. We’re in every state of the union. One group has active chapters in thirty-nine states. We are over three-hundred-thousand strong, three-hundred-thousand voices ready to give our lives to preserve our Constitution. It’s time we take a stand against those goddamned liberal tree huggers who want to take away our guns, the very right given to us in the Constitution. But you government puppets don’t get it, do you? Once the government has all our guns, we will become nothing but slaves to the regime. We won’t be able to fight back. Conservative, liberal, it’s all just a conspiratorial conglomerate. One side pretends to fight the other, but inside, they’re both the same, power-hungry animals of prey.”
Flecks of saliva gathered at the corners of Blake’s mouth, and sweat beaded on his forehead, but still, he continued his rant. Agent Morst was enjoying every moment, knowing the best was yet to come, and he sat with a sardonic smile on his face, egging the captain on.
“You can sit there and smile, you smug governmental puppet, but listen to me. The only thing preventing our side from taking back the Constitution is that we are not yet united. Last week you got a small taste of what can come if we do. I and five other militia leaders networked and decided to start disturbances in six different states. All we need to do is show the others that unity is possible. We decided to invite disaster so the government’s actions would be recorded by the TV networks. Do you think we don’t know the power of the media? Several of our people had iPhones recording, and by this time, images of our troops being attacked and mowed down by soldiers in Humvees has gone nationwide. Thanks to you, our increased recruitment power will double our forces.”
Blake’s throat was getting so dry he could barely speak, but he continued his rampage with no prodding. “The plan was for each of the leaders of the six groups to escape and set up new militias, and then use the leverage from the raids as a starting point in unification. Last year the Michigan militia planned to kill law enforcement officers and then bomb their funeral processions, hoping the violence would incite a larger conflict with authorities. Unfortunately, their plan was disrupted by the FBI. But more of the same will come. Look at the Internet, and read the signs. Last July, online celebrations broke out after news of two L.A. police officers being ambushed and killed was released. The site, Police Log, has 800,000 fans by now. It will be a war, Agent Morst. It’ll be a war. And the militias of the nation will band together in such numbers we will not be crushed.”
Blake slumped in his chair, his vitriol completely spent. Agent Morst stood up. “Okay, Blake. Thank you. Why don’t you call your lawyer? I’m done with you.” Blake looked at him with disdain as the reality of what had happened sunk in.
*****
Jesper looked totally defeated, even before Shelly made her next appearance. “Jesper, I want to inform you that you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” Shelly looked at Jesper sympathetically and continued as though she were repeating the words only for him. “Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”
For a second she thought Jesper was about to talk, but then he said in a voice barely above a whisper, “I think I need a lawyer.”
“Jesper,” Sh
elly said in a way that appeared to show real concern. “I fully understand your wish and anticipated your decision. There is a public defender waiting outside to represent you if you will accept him as your counsel. Shall I ask him to come in?” Jesper nodded, and this time Shelly didn’t demand that he speak his request. She went to the door, motioned to someone, and a man in a dark suit and carrying a leather briefcase entered.
He walked straight to Jesper and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Bill Svor, a public defender. You must be Jesper Landman. Let’s sit down and see what we have here.” He brought Shelly’s chair around to Jesper’s side of the table and joined the young man. They were short a chair, and Shelly disappeared out the door. When she returned she carried two chairs and was accompanied by another woman. The two of them sat at the other side of the table. Jesper was totally cowed by this time.
“Jesper, this is one of the prosecuting attorneys for Lake County, Ivy Mack,” Shelly said. “She’s here to talk to you and your attorney, that is, if you both agree.” Jesper looked at Svor, who nodded his approval. Jesper said it would be okay.
Svor started the conversation. “So, Ms. Mack, what do we have on the agenda?”
Ivy pulled a stack of papers from her briefcase. “Mr. Landman, we are prepared to file a number of charges against you: conspiracy to commit murder, conspiracy to commit kidnap, weapons charges, six counts of murder,” she paused. “The list goes on, but those will do for starters. Alone, what I’ve read to you is enough to put you in prison for the rest of your life.” Jesper’s eyes widened, and he began to sweat profusely. His attorney shifted nervously in his chair before speaking.
“That’s quite a list, Ivy. What else do you have?”
“Bill, this is the most complicated case I’ve ever run up against, and I think your client could make my job a whole lot easier if he will cooperate with me.”
Bill cleared his throat before speaking. “And will you please define ‘cooperate’ for us?”
Ivy picked up a note of hope in Attorney Svor’s question. “We need the names of those who committed the criminal acts. Who beat Jason Peters to death? Who was involved in the train derailment? Who was involved in the desecration of the church? Who was involved in the hate crime at Joseph Feldmann’s’s home? Lastly, who was the sniper who ambushed Sheriff Jeff DeAngelo?” She spread her hands on the table palms down and waited for an answer.
“And what does Jesper get in return for this kind of cooperation?” Bill asked.
“The state is prepared to reduce the charges to aiding and abetting, which, as you know, carries with it a maximum penalty of two years in jail and/or a $10,000 fine. That’s quite a deal, Counselor, and I think you should advise your client to accept it. Otherwise, we’re going for the max on this one. Believe me when I tell you that Captain Blake has shown he is more than willing to throw you under the bus, Jesper. Think about it.”
Bill Svor drummed his fingers on the table while he thought, and Jesper looked at his attorney’s face, trying to pick up on his reaction. Bill’s expression was noncommittal, and when he responded, it wasn’t to Jesper but to Ivy.
“I’d like to confer with my client in private. That means all cameras and recording devices are turned off, and I’m invoking client-counselor privilege.” Ivy nodded. She and Shelly left the room, reasonably certain they would get their way.
After several minutes of waiting in the hall, they heard a rap on the door, and Ivy let herself into the interrogation room.
“Jesper and I have conferred, and he agrees his position is tenuous at best. However, he has one overriding concern, and that is for his own safety. What guarantees can you give him that he will be provided with protection?”
Ivy had anticipated this scenario and had discussed the issue with the FBI to great length. They agreed that Jesper would be placing himself in danger, but on the other hand, they didn’t believe that the case warranted a full witness protection plan.
“We’re prepared to provide protection for you as long as the trial continues. We’re not prepared to provide a new identity or secret location.” Ivy saw Jesper begin to squirm, and Bill reached over and patted his shoulder as a sign to hear her out. Ivy continued, “We’re willing to provide you with transportation to anywhere of your choosing in the U.S., after you’ve served your sentence, of course. We’re also willing to provide you with funds to complete a two-year program at a technical college. After that, you’ll be on your own, free to move anywhere you’d like, whenever you’d like. As I said, it sure beats sitting in prison for the next fifty years or more.”
The attorney and his client put their heads together and whispered several words back and forth. Bill looked up. “My client accepts your proposal. If you draw up the papers, he’ll sign them today.”
Without smiling, Ivy reached into her briefcase and withdrew a sheaf of papers. “I have them ready. I’ll step out of the room for a cup of coffee while you go over them with Jesper. By the way, would either of you like coffee?” They declined. “Okay, I’ll be back in a half-hour to witness the signing.” Her shoulders felt incredibly light as she left the room.
When she returned, the papers were on her side of the table, signed. “I have one question I’d like to ask,” Ivy said. “I think your attorney will allow you to speak to it now that the agreement has been made. How did your people know Deidre would be at that spot on the river so they could grab her?”
Jesper looked at his attorney, and his legal counsel give him a nod. “I liked to follow the river when I had time. It’s peaceful there. One day, I saw Deidre sitting by those cedar trees. She looked like she was meditating or something. I mentioned it to Captain Blake, and he decided to set up surveillance of the spot. He had men posted there on a rotating basis for more than two weeks. When she came there again, they nabbed her. Captain Blake is a patient man.”
Deidre was chilled by the realization. What if they had gotten Maren and Megan? She shivered a little, and Ben held her close. She and Ben had watched the entire proceedings, and now they felt a letdown as the anticipation of what would happen wore off. It was almost as though Deidre didn’t want the process to slow down. She wanted to move to the next step immediately.
Chapter Fifty-Two
On the way home, Deidre and Ben stopped at Inga’s, picked up their daughters, and swung into their favorite takeout restaurant, where they picked up a preordered special. None of them spoke the whole way home, only sat and inhaled the aroma of their evening meal.
At the supper table, the girls asked what had happened and what the future held. Deidre was as honest with them as she could be. Her eye was beginning to open as the swelling diminished, and Maren wanted to know if she could see anything out of it. She had to say that her vision was still very impaired but that her face seemed less sore. She attempted a smile to prove it. After supper, as they retreated to the living room, Maren hugged her mother. Deidre winced, causing the girl to step back with a pained look on her face.
“Mom, did I hurt you?” she asked with concern.
“Honey, don’t ever stop hugging me.” She put her arms around her daughter and gently squeezed. “Just be a little gentle for a while.” The two held each other for several seconds and Megan joined them. Ben called to them and patted the couch. All four of them squeezed together, and they sat touching each other without saying a thing. After several minutes the girls got up and kissed Deidre on the cheek.
“We’ll be in our room if you need us. We love you, Mom,” Megan said. Maren echoed her sentiments.
Deidre rested her head on Ben’s shoulder, and they didn’t move for a long time. “Fix me a bath, will you, dear?” she asked.
He smiled. “Want bubbles, too?”
*****
It took two weeks, but by then Deidre’s face had pretty much returned to its normal configuration. A large blood clot
obscured the white of her injured eye, but she could see clearly through it. She had a lingering scab on her lip, and her ribs still made her wince if she turned too quickly in the wrong direction. Yet, she knew her body was healing. About her mind, she wasn’t too sure. Almost every night she had nightmares and woke with sweat soaking the sheets. Ben was patient, never complaining about his loss of sleep and holding her until her trembling ceased. She had taken personal leave from her job as acting sheriff, and the under-sheriff was helping clean up the mess of paperwork. It wasn’t as bad as would have been expected, because the FBI had taken over much of the case.
*****
Two months passed. Deidre had been back on the job for three weeks, and as she drove to work, she mulled over what her future might hold. She slowly climbed the stairs to the sheriff’s office and took note of the banners hanging across the conference tables. A sheet cake, still in its box, sat on the end of the table, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air. The place was empty, and she hoped no one would be late. She was early, although morning report would be later than usual today. Deidre retired to the sheriff’s personal office and sat behind the desk. She shuffled a few papers, straightening their corners, and put the two loose pens in the mug near the edge of the large desk calendar. It was October 17, and she placed an X over the square representing yesterday. It was gone, and she thought it appropriate that today’s square was fresh and clean, no impending disasters.
Deidre didn’t feel well, hadn’t for a week, and she had scheduled an appointment with her doctor in the afternoon. First, she had a few duties to attend to. Shirley, the sheriff’s assistant, came in shortly after she had closed the door to her office, and now Deidre sat behind the desk, holding her head and trying to quell her nausea. Morning report was delayed until eight o’clock, and she dearly hoped she wouldn’t be sick before then. At five to eight she left the shelter of her office. Nearly every deputy was either sitting or standing in the room. She had just joined them when they heard the security lock on the outer door buzz, followed by the buzz of the inner lock.
Preying in Two Harbors Page 29
