To Save the Nation

by Robert E Kass

  Celtic Cross scanned the bar-coded papers the first guard gave them, saying he wouldn’t want to lose anyone in there. He then buzzed them through the inner door of the airlock and escorted them to a rather large but private visiting room, maybe ten by twenty, with a long table in the center of the room, one chair on one side, two on the other, another chair alongside the wall. Three sides of the room were windowless. The third wall had a large window, which Winkler suspected was one-way glass, with a viewing area on the other side. He arranged the chairs so the two chairs had their backs to the window, then they waited for what seemed to be an eternity until the prisoner known as Juan Martinez was brought down to the visiting room.

  CHAPTER 43

  CELTIC CROSS AND ANOTHER GUARD finally brought the prisoner into the visiting room and indicated they’d be waiting outside.

  “Press the button on the table if you need us, or when you’re ready to leave. Visits are thirty minutes unless you need more time. But if Martinez wants to cut it short, that’s his call.”

  Alice had seen the man she now knew was Guttmann many times over the years, but not in recent months. She was visibly shocked at what she saw. He was a small man, especially in contrast to Celtic Cross. Extremely gaunt and pale, with thin arms, he was wearing a new ‘execution’ uniform, which was clearly too large for him. It was badly wrinkled, as if he’d slept in it, but he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were red, his head shaven.

  The uniform had no belt, and he was wearing prison-issue slippers. His belt and shoes with laces had been taken away for his own safety, so he couldn’t hang himself. He was on suicide watch. Only the State could determine how and when he would die.

  Guttmann sat down without uttering a word, first staring into space, then turning his eyes, first to Alice, then to Winkler.

  “What is this all about? I specifically asked for no visitors. Dr. Hanover, did you bring a clergyman? I’m not a man of faith and don’t want any clergy—”

  “Juan, this is David Winkler, a lawyer, not a clergyman.”

  Standing up, Guttmann became extremely agitated. “No more lawyers! Lawyers cannot be trusted! They’ll tell you anything, promise you the moon, just to keep you alive so they can file more appeals and continue their fight against the death penalty. That’s all well and good. I know the system is flawed and should be fixed, but not at my expense.

  “Enough is enough! Even if they get a stay, what will probably happen is my sentence will be commuted to life in prison. What’s the point? Do I really want to spend the rest of my life in prison? This is no life. They’ve taken most of my freedom, but I still have the freedom to choose to die rather than continue the appeals. We’ve been at this all too long. I’ve had decades to read about the American justice system. It’s all words. There is no justice. I’ve given up waiting for miracles—”

  Finally he sat down, seemingly exhausted, physically and emotionally.

  Winkler decided he had to make his case quickly before Guttmann ended the meeting and felt it best to address the new evidence of mistaken identity first.

  “Mr. Martinez, I can’t even pretend to know what you’ve gone through, and what you’re feeling right now. But what I’m here to tell you is that we have new evidence that’ll persuade the powers that be that your execution should not go forward as scheduled, that a stay should be granted. We’re prepared to immediately file Petitions for Habeas Corpus to get you out of here, and for a stay of execution pending a full hearing. We can prove there’s been a gross miscarriage of justice, that you are not Juan Martinez.”

  “I’ve been saying that for years, Mr. Winkler. They look at me like a mad man. No one cares. Juan Martinez kidnapped his daughter, and she died. Juan Martinez was convicted and sentenced to death. Juan Martinez is going to die. Justice will be done, and the victim’s family will at last find peace.”

  “But justice is not being done if they execute the wrong man. You are not Juan Martinez, and we can prove who you are.”

  “Who am I then, Mr. Winkler?”

  “Ricardo Guttmann. An Argentine banker. You are not Mexican, but Argentine.”

  “What? How can you prove this?”

  “Believe me, sir. We have credible, compelling evidence, fingerprints of Ricardo Guttmann, an Argentine banker, which are a perfect match to yours. There can be no mistake. Every person’s fingerprints are unique.”

  Guttmann was stunned and sat in silence for several seconds. Finally, he said, “Where did you get these fingerprints of Ricardo Guttmann, and why are you bringing me this information? Where is Joshua Bean, the lawyer I’ve been working with?”

  “I can review all of this with you, but I assure you, we’ve done extensive research, which led us to your fingerprints. Dr. Hanover can vouch for my integrity.”

  Alice nodded in agreement. “What he’s telling you is correct. You’ve told me since the first day I met you that they have the wrong person, and now you finally have someone who can prove it.”

  “Why isn’t my lawyer, Joshua Bean, here to tell me this?”

  Alice replied, “We saw him yesterday. He’s in the hospital. His car was bombed. He can’t help you anymore.

  He asked Mr. Winkler to come here to meet you and file the papers necessary to stay your execution and get you released.”

  “So you, Mr. Winkler, will be my attorney, with Joshua Bean?”

  “Yes, if that’s OK with you,” said Winkler. “Please just sign this short engagement letter, making me your co-counsel.”

  Guttmann looked over to Alice, who nodded her approval, then scrawled a signature at the bottom of the engagement letter and pushed it back over to Winkler.

  “You don’t have much time, Mr. Winkler, even if you have the proof. We can’t control the system. I know they have the wrong man. You may know it as well. But that doesn’t mean your appeal will be successful. The system has rules, technicalities, prejudices.

  “I’m not going to celebrate, or even get my hopes up, until you tell me I’ve been vindicated. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I’ve made many friends in this terrible place over the years. I believe many of those people weren’t guilty, or at least shouldn’t have received the death sentence.

  “The real pain doesn’t come from your own death, Mr. Winkler. It comes when you see another human being, a friend, someone you’ve known for years, being escorted off death row to be executed. It tears you apart because there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. This is legalized murder. We’re no different here than in Russia, or some countries in the Middle East.

  “Those who complain about it, even if there are grounds for appeal, are brushed aside. Each of the wrongly convicted is just a pawn in the system. We’re executed just to assure the masses that the rule of law will protect them from evil.”

  “With your permission, sir, we’ll go ahead and file the papers as co-counsel,” Winkler said. “But I have something else to tell you. We’ve brought someone else I want you to meet—”

  “No, no one else. I’ve had enough for today. I may not be free to walk out of here, but I am free to go back to my cell and be alone. Come back another day when you have some news of the appeal.”

  And with that, Guttmann pushed the button on the table, and the guard immediately took him out of the room.

  CHAPTER 44

  “HE WON’T EVEN MEET ME? How is this possible? I came all this way, and he won’t even have a brief meeting?!” Maria Theresa was beside herself.

  “I didn’t even have a chance to tell him about you,” Winkler replied. “We started talking about filing for a stay of execution. Initially, he was resigned to dying and didn’t want any more appeals. Then I told him we had proof of mistaken identity—proof that he wasn’t Martinez—and he agreed we could go forward. It was all we could do to get him to that point. Then he abruptly called for the guard, and the meeting was over.”

  “But David, maybe if I just ask to go back and talk to him alone—”

  “
I wouldn’t even try,” said Winkler. “He won’t talk again until we know whether our efforts to get a stay have been successful. He made that very clear.

  “Maria Theresa, things are moving very quickly. I need to call my office and check on the filing of the petitions. I suggest I take you to the motel in Amityville and you wait until you hear from us. If we get the stay, I’m confident he’ll be willing to hear about you, and even meet you.”

  Winkler knew the clock was ticking. He thanked Alice Hanover and asked if she could stay around town for another couple of days, just in case they needed her for another meeting with Guttmann. She agreed.

  He then sped over with Maria Theresa to the B-52 Inn in Amityville, which was every bit the dump Alice Hanover had described. A one-story metal roof building, with a dozen motel units side by side. A rusty metal armchair sat outside each unit. A couple of units had window air conditioners. The air was hot and humid and there wasn’t a hint of a breeze. The poor souls who rented the units without air conditioning would be better off sleeping in their cars with the windows open.

  The manager was surprised to see a guest arrive early in the day, as most came late at night after a long drive, the day before a prison visit. However, he assured them Maria Theresa would have a clean, quiet room in the back, off the highway. When asked if it had air conditioning, he said it did, but it would be best to just take the armchair over to the big oak tree and get a soft drink from the machine in front of his office. After nightfall, he said, things would cool down a bit, and the air conditioner wouldn’t have to work as hard.

  As for food, he suggested Maria Theresa try the gas station across the street, as they had snacks and frozen pizza that could be heated up in their microwave oven.

  Reluctantly, Winkler left Maria Theresa for what he hoped would be a short stay.

  On his way back to the airport, he called his office to authorize filing of the petitions; however, Dillingham had decided to file all the petitions, showing Winkler as co-counsel for Martinez, on the assumption that Martinez—or Guttmann—would agree.

  All but one of the petitions had been filed. The attempt to file with the Dougherty County Superior Court had been rejected because it was presented a few minutes after four, and the clerk said it was too late. He suggested trying again Monday morning. When asked if it was possible to file electronically, which was common in most courts, the clerk said it would normally be allowed but the facility was down for maintenance.

  CHAPTER 45

  WINKLER RETURNED TO THE OFFICE on Monday morning to find a stack of messages from Trevor Banks. Under duress, Emma had set up a meeting with him for Monday at ten in the large conference room. Banks arrived right on time.

  “Mr. Winkler, I’m sorry to come on such short notice, but I’m really confused, and I don’t mind telling you I’m very upset. I’ve had no reports at all on your search for Guttmann. I’ve been extremely patient, figuring you were busy with the investigation. Now it’s all over the news that not only have you located him, alive, but he’s on death row and about to be executed!

  “My people are very upset to get this news on cable TV, not from you. Don’t you think a $500,000 client deserves this kind of information first, before the media?”

  “I apologize, Mr. Banks, but this situation is evolving very quickly, and I admit, we’ve done a poor job of keeping you informed. But the press coverage is part of our effort to get a stay of execution, and you were next on our list to be contacted.”

  “How do you rate your chance of success?”

  “It’s hard to tell at this point. We’ve filed petitions at every level we could think of, all the way to the President. We have proof of mistaken identity, if anyone wants to listen.”

  “So you’ve met with Guttmann?”

  “Yes, but it was a very brief meeting, only long enough to get his OK to file the petitions on his behalf.”

  “Did he give you any leads on the missing money?”

  “We didn’t get that far. He cut us off, won’t talk further until we get the stay. And if we don’t get it, my guess is, he’ll take his secrets with him to his grave.”

  “You can’t let that happen, Mr. Winkler. It’s too important. You have to find out how to get to that money.”

  “We’ll certainly try, Mr. Banks, but Guttmann is bitter, very bitter, and I can’t predict what’ll happen if the stay is denied. Mr. Banks, since you’re with the government, maybe you can use your connections to help us get a stay, perhaps through the Office of the President.”

  “Mr. Winkler, I can’t work magic—”

  “But if it’s so important to the United States government that you find Guttmann, one would think a couple of phone calls to your superiors would pave the way for a positive response to our petitions—or maybe you’re not really who you say you are.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Banks said, in an accusatory tone.

  “You know full well what I mean! You’re not just a government bureaucrat on a mission to find a missing fortune and bail out Argentina. You have your own agenda, Señor Ramos.”

  “Ramos—why do you call me Ramos?”

  “Because that’s who you are—or were—before you changed your name. We know all about your past. You and your cronies took over the government of Argentina in the 1970s. You were a senior advisor to the right-wing military junta and played a key role in the disappearance, torture, and murders of 30,000 people in Argentina.”

  “You’re crazy, Mr. Winkler! I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “We have evidence, archival photos we found on the Internet.” Winkler laid one of the photos on the table, which showed Ramos as a young man, along with a computer-aged photo laid side-by-side with a current photo. “There’s no denying it. This is one and the same person, Señor Ramos.”

  He was furious. “What do you know about the political reality of Argentina? There was no choice. We had to take over the government to save the country from the rebels. Do you believe the figures about how many disappeared? Those numbers were invented by leftist sympathizers and were pure propaganda. People left Argentina and went to other countries, like Switzerland, came back when things settled down, but never took their names off the lists.”

  “So how many did you kill, Señor Ramos?”

  “Maybe 8,000, or 8,500. This wasn’t random. They were all leftist guerillas or sympathizers. We had to eliminate them. They were a threat to the nation. Look, Mr. Winkler, all of this is ancient history, totally irrelevant to our business with each other. My prior life has nothing to do with our engagement of your law firm to find Guttmann.”

  “I beg to differ. If your motive is other than as represented to me, then I may not have to deliver Guttmann to you.”

  “Mr. Winkler, don’t get on your high horse. You don’t know what you’re dealing with here!”

  “I don’t? You think I’m unaware of your relationship with Congressman Eduardo Cruz, formerly known as Colonel Raoul Vincenti, whom the President has nominated for Secretary of Homeland Security? He’s pictured in the photos as well. A few minutes with Google shows you were tied at the hip in Argentina, and you’re his senior advisor today as well.”

  “I can see you’ve done your homework, Mr. Winkler, but where are you going with all this?”

  “May I ask you what kinds of policies you and Representative Cruz intend to bring to Homeland Security? Would I be incorrect in assuming you still feel anything is justified to save a country under siege?”

  “Don’t be naïve, Mr. Winkler. The ends do justify the means. The United States is in a war with Islam, brought on by Islam. Muslims number 1.6 billion worldwide out of a total population of maybe 7.4 billion, or around 23%, and they’re growing fast. Europe has already lost the fight as far as I and many others are concerned. Very soon—in a matter of just a few years—either Western Europe will be Muslim, or there will be civil war. If the U.S. continues with its current policies and doesn’t take drastic action to eliminat
e this threat, it will surely meet the same fate. But with some policy changes—which you may think are radical—we may be able to stem the tide.”

  “What types of changes?”

  “For starters, no more Muslims will be allowed entry into the U.S. We must stop the inbound flow. We won’t discriminate between Sunnis, Shiites, or whatever. We can’t tell our friends from our enemies anyhow, so we just keep them all out. We’ll do this as a temporary measure but continue it indefinitely.”

  “So you stabilize the Muslim population in the United States, ignoring the normal growth of that population. How does that solve the problem?”

  “That’s just the beginning. Then we deport any Muslims who either don’t have U.S. citizenship or have dual nationality. If they have dual nationality, we take away their U.S. citizenship, then deport them. We have no good reason to allow foreigners with allegiance to a religion that’s targeted the non-Muslim world to remain on U.S. soil.”

  “But what about Muslims who have only U.S. citizenship?”

  “That’s the next step. We identify the rest of them by whatever means necessary. Those who frequent mosques. We get lists or use video surveillance, even drone surveillance. Academics in universities. Muslim community leaders. Subscribers to Al Jazeera. Those who make phone calls or e-mail to Muslim countries. Those who live in Muslim enclaves, such as Dearborn, Michigan. We’ll monitor Internet traffic, including e-mail, Facebook, FaceTime, and Skype. We’ll then cross-match all these and zero in on Muslims.”

  “And then what? Do you put them in internment camps, like the Japanese in World War II?” Winkler couldn’t believe his ears.

  “That would be too costly, and it would only stir up protests from left-wing groups. Our plan will be much more elegant. They’ll just disappear, like in Argentina. No administrative or court proceedings. No army of lawyers. No need to pay for their support, as you would if they were in internment camps. After a short time, the others will get the message and leave the country. Self-deportation. They’ll take the initiative because they will know what will happen to them and their families if they stay.”