The Journey Ch. 09

Hello, friend. Welcome to Chapter Nine of The Journey. It goes without saying that it's been far too long since Chapter Eight came out. I'll have more to say about that at the end.

As in much of the other chapters of the Journey, let me give a content warning for addiction, depression and racism.

~~ Rural Virginia, July ~~

My phone lit up in my lap with a text for the fourth time in the last ten minutes.

Answer your damn phone!

Then my phone started buzzing, the fourth call in the last ten minutes. I finally, reluctantly, answered it.

"Hey, Jack."

"Why have you been ignoring my calls?"

"I'm a little busy."

"Busy doing what? Are you at a bar?"

"No, I'm not at a bar."

"You text me 'Everything's fucked', then you ignore all my texts and phone calls for two hours?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I just had a bit of a panic moment."

"What's going on, Viv? Are you in a crisis?"

"Sorta, but not that kind."

"Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

"I can't right now. It's okay, Jack. I'm sorry I texted you, I was panicking about something and I just... needed to tell someone."

"I need more than that, Viv. Where are you, what's going on?"

I lowered my voice. "Look, just... I just need you to trust me. Something bad is going down, but I didn't drink, okay? It was a close thing, but I'm past the moment and I'm working the problem."

"What's the problem?"

"Jane's been arrested."

"What?! What for?"

"Look, I really can't talk about it right now. I'll reach out when I can, probably tomorrow, okay? Trust me? Please? I promise I'm okay. I didn't drink and I'm handling things."

I hope, I thought.

I heard Jack's frustrated sigh through the phone.

"Jack, I swear to God, I didn't drink and I'm not gonna drink. At least not tonight."

"Okay, Viv. But, you call me first thing tomorrow and tell me what this is all about."

"I will, I promise... Hey, Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For being there for me."

"You're welcome. You scared the hell out of me, though."

"Breakfast is on me next time."

"You can't buy your way out of telling me what's going on," he said with a chuckle.

"Not buying my way out of anything. Just a token of appreciation."

"Fair enough. Call me tomorrow. Or I'll come looking for you."

"I will. Thanks." I hung up the phone and looked out the window.

The expansion joints in the two-lane road thumped roughly under the wheels of the car while I sat in the back seat, lost in thought. The silence was uncomfortable, broken only by the whine of the wheels and the clacking of a keyboard. She finally broke it.

"Was that your sponsor?"

"Yeah. He's a good guy." I cleared my throat, then said, "Again, I can't thank you enough for your help. Especially after... well..."

"It's okay. Some things are more important than the past. Anyway, this is what we do. No matter who needs our help"

Another mile passed, then I said, "Listen now might not be the time, but I've wanted to make amends. For everything that happened."

"We don't have to talk about it now."

"I know. But for what it's worth, I'm sorry, Addie. About everything."

"Me too, Viv," Addison said.

A soft sigh escaped me, as I played the memory of forcing myself to make that phone call through my mind. After I'd called my own Lampedo lawyer, only to find he was out of the country, I'd spent a few agonizing minutes trying to think of what to do. I knew I needed to find a lawyer, and fucking fast. Someone who I knew would go to the mat for Jane, and could do it right fucking now. I'd called the LWLS general hotline number and got their weekend answering service, who had not so helpfully said someone could get back to me on Monday.

There was no way I could let Jane sit alone in a jail cell under the thumb of those assholes all weekend.

I'd finally forced myself to open my contacts. The few times I had happened to scroll through the W's in the last few years, I'd always asked myself why the fuck haven't you deleted Addison's number? Tonight, I'd fervently thanked a God I hadn't talked to in a long time that I'd kept it.

"Hello?" The confusion in her voice hadn't surprised me.

"Addison, it's Viv."

"I know, I have caller ID."

"Please don't hang up. I need help."

There was a long pause and I held my breath, waiting for the click.

"Please, Addison."

"What happened?"

My eyes had squeezed tightly shut in relief, as I'd spilled the whole situation out. How Jane had been pulled over for Driving-While-Black. How I heard the cops say they were going to let her sit in jail overnight, just because they could. How when I called her phone back it went straight to voicemail. And how all I could think about was being in Jane's class and listening to her discuss Sandra Bland, a famous case of a black woman who'd been pulled over for seemingly no reason and had somehow ended up dead in her cell a day later. How I was terrified for Jane. How I needed someone who would know what to do.

Addison had asked me a bunch of questions, making me repeat my story a couple of times.

"Can you help?" I asked when she seemed to have all the information she needed.

"I'm not licensed in Virginia, just D.C. Virginia has reciprocity with lawyers from the D.C. bar, but that's mostly in court, the cops could get shitty about it if they want to, and it sounds like these guys might want to."

"What do I do?" I'd heard the rising panic in my voice.

"First off, stay calm. You're not going to do her any favors by losing it."

"Right." I made myself get a grip.

She asked for our address, and told me to wait for her at home. An hour later she picked me up, telling me we had to make a stop on the way out to central Virginia. I spent the drive to Ballston giving Addison the short version of the last year. Starting college, in no small part to make myself feel more... worthy, I guess, although I didn't tell her that. Meeting Jane. Losing Jane, realizing I was an alcoholic and going to rehab. Coming to terms with what that meant for my life. Getting Jane back.

Getting Jane back.

I'd cried then, unashamed, telling Addison how Jane was my everything now. That if anything happened to her...

Addison had awkwardly comforted me, said I should try not to worry. As if there was any universe in which it was possible for me not to worry.

"We're about twenty minutes out," Addison said quietly, bringing me back to the present.

The other woman in the front seat made an irritated sound. "Slow down a little then. This portable printer sucks, and I've got two more things I want to have in hand."

The printer on the floor between her feet started whining again. When it had spat out a few pages she passed them back to me. "Collate and staple, please," she said to me for what must have been the eighth time that night.

I dutifully made sure the pages were in order, straightened the stack, stapled them together, then added them to the pile of documents on the seat next to me.

"Do you really think we're going to need all this, Mrs. Winerock?" I was less interested in her having a big stack of papers than I was in us getting there.

"I told you, call me Megan, please," she said, pushing a stray lock of her shaggy black hair behind her ear then resuming furiously typing.

When no further answer seemed forthcoming, Addison filled the silence.

"It's going to be okay, Viv," she said. "Megan subscribes to a carpet-bombing theory of the law. It can be intimidating, especially to a small-town cop. We hope."

"Y'all the professionals." I didn't really understand, but I was trusting Addison to know what to do, so I didn't say anything else.

My chest started to tighten as we passed a poorly lit sign proclaiming we were entering Wakeville, Virginia. I tried one of the breathing exercises I'd learned in rehab to calm myself down. It worked. Until we pulled into the dingy little police station, then I wanted to start hyperventilating.

"Alright, hand me the stack," Megan said, reaching back for the papers on the seat next to me. I handed them to her and she quickly sorted through the documents, changing the order a bit then slipping the pile into her briefcase. She and Addison opened their doors. I did too, and got out.

"Viv, I think you should--" Addison started.

"There's no fucking way I'm staying in the car."

Addison and Megan exchanged a look. Megan nodded.

"Okay," Addison said.

"Let me do the talking," Megan said. She threw her shoulders back and suddenly seemed to grow a few inches, as she strode towards the door of the station with purpose, suddenly intimidating as hell. Addison and I followed.

A twenty-something white cop was sitting behind the counter, asleep. He startled awake when Megan threw open the door and walked in like she owned the place. He dropped his feet off the desk and stood up, blearily rubbing his eyes. The name tag on his uniform identified him as Hodges.

"Can I..." he croaked, then cleared his throat. "Sorry, can I help you?"

"Are you holding Dr. Jane May? We're her attorneys." Megan said.

"Uh, yeah, she's, uh... I can't discuss the charges against her."

"I'm sure. I want to see her, right now." Megan's voice was like steel.

The cop looked unimpressed as he glanced at the clock on the wall, which read eleven thirty P.M.

"Visiting hours are ten A.M. to two P.M.," he said.

"I'm not a visitor. I'm her lawyer. I'm sure you don't want to deprive my client of her constitutional right to an attorney."

"She hasn't called for a lawyer. How do you even know she's here?" the kid said, confused.

"Maybe she hasn't called a lawyer because you haven't given her a phone call."

The kid frowned. "We have twenty-four hours to hold her before we have to let her use the phone. That's what my sergeant said."

I heard a soft sound of movement and looked past his shoulder. There was an open door behind him, and I could see the barred doors of two cells along the side of a short hallway.

"Officer Hodges, trust me when I tell you that you don't want to stake your career on that piece of advice, regardless of what you think of your sergeant. I want to see my client right now."

"I can't do that."

I saw slim fingers grip the bars of the far cell and recognized the ring Jane wore on her thumb.

"Jane! I'm here!" I yelled.

"Viv?" I heard her call back to me.

Addison gripped my arm. "Viv, not now," she whispered in my ear.

"I brought help! It's gonna be okay!" I called, heedless of Addison trying to shush me.

The cop looked annoyed. He stepped back and shut the door.

"I got you, babe!" I yelled as he closed it.

Megan looked over at me and I saw the understanding in her eyes, but also the unspoken command to shut up.

"Listen, I can't let you see her until my sergeant or the chief gets in."

"And when is that going to be?"

"Well, it's Saturday night, and they're not in tomorrow. I guess they'll be here on Monday. She'll be arraigned on Monday morning and can arrange for bail then."

I opened my mouth, but Addison tugged firmly on my elbow. Megan was unphased.

"Your department's budget is about three million a year, right?" she asked.

"I-- What?" Officer Hodges said, thoroughly confused by the abrupt change of subject.

"It's three-point-two, in fact. I checked your town's website on the way here." She opened her briefcase and rifled through the papers until she found the one she was looking for and slapped it on the counter.

"What's that?"

"It's a draft subpoena for depositions in the lawsuit I'm going to be bringing against your town, your department and several of your officers." She flipped it open, pulling a pen out of her jacket. "What's your name? Full name and badge number please, I want to make sure it's correct for the court record."

"Hang on a minute!" he said, taken aback.

"Officer, I'm aware you have no reason to believe us at the moment, but we have a case for civil rights violations, with possible damages against your department well in excess of your entire department's annual budget," Addison said, "If we don't get to see our client in the next ten minutes, we're going to name you personally, in addition to the department and the arresting officers."

"Uh..." the cop looked like he couldn't believe the full-frontal assault he'd woken up to. "Let me, uh, let me make a call."

"Do that," Megan said, and turned her back on him. "It's going to be okay, Viv," she said quietly to me.

I tried to unclench and Addison let go of my arm. The cop went into an office off the main area and shut the door.

"Were you serious about that? A multi-million-dollar lawsuit?"

"Mostly. Well, not against him personally, that was a bluff. The Supreme Court, through their completely invented doctrine of qualified immunity, has made it all but impossible to hold individual police officers personally accountable for wrongdoing. But with everything we know so far? Hell yes there's a lawsuit here. Probably not multi-million, but mid-six figures maybe."

"What happens now?" I said nervously, shifting my weight back and forth.

"He's probably calling his sergeant, who will either come down here or tell him to tell us to buzz off. If he comes down it'll probably take him an hour or so, and he'll tell me I can see Jane tomorrow, and that they aren't going to release her until Monday."

"But that's bullshit!" I hissed.

"It's a possible outcome, Viv. But it'll just be the opening bid. And we've got a pair of aces. I need you to stay calm, let me do the talking." She turned back to the counter as the Officer Hodges returned.

"My boss'll be here shortly," he said. Megan turned and gave me a wink where he couldn't see it.

Turned out it was the police chief, not the sergeant, and he showed up in twenty-five minutes, instead of an hour later, wearing jeans and a rumpled Wakeville P.D. polo shirt that looked like he'd pulled it out of the laundry.

"I'm Chief Roper, can I help you ladies?" he drawled condescendingly as he stepped up to the counter. Officer Hodges handed him a clipboard, and he scanned the document on it.

"Yes, you can. You're currently holding Dr. Jane May on spurious charges," Addison said, "We're her attorneys and your desk officer will not let us see our client."

"Suspects can call their attorneys after arraignment. That will be Monday morning, you can come back and see Miss May then."

"Yeah, that's not gonna work for us," Megan said sharply.

Chief Roper's face darkened a shade, suggesting that he wasn't used to being spoken to in that tone by a young woman. "Excuse me?"

"I'm concerned for the safety and well-being of my client, and I want to see her tonight. Furthermore, I suggest you consider releasing my client with a summons, rather than binding her over for arraignment with this transparently illegal arrest," Megan said.

He looked down at the clipboard again, his expression turning smug. "Miss May resisted arrest after being pulled over for speeding and suspicion of drunk driving. Why would I consider letting her go?"

"Because your officers have filed a false police report, which is a felony in Virginia," Addison said.

"Excuse me?"

"Look, chief, I'm sorry to be the one to break the news to you this late on a Saturday night," Megan said, with the air of a mother being patient with a particularly naughty child, "but your guys stepped in it. We're going to be suing your department for false arrest, lying on a police report, and civil rights violations. You are perfectly within your rights to hold her until Monday. You are even within your rights to not let me see her tonight. But, if you do that, you're just going to piss me off and then I'm going to list you personally, in addition to the department and the arresting officers. I'll note that it's likely your department is indemnified from damages by your town's insurance, but it's possible that you might not be, if I can get a jury to say that you or your men acted outside the color of law."

"What the hell are you talking about? The officers that arrested her are veteran officers. One of them retired from Richmond P.D. after twenty years before coming here. Their word is unimpeachable in my opinion."

"You want to play it that way, fine with me. More zeros on the inevitable settlement for my client."

She reached into her jacket, set her phone on the counter and touched the screen. The recording I'd sent her earlier started playing.

"'It's Doctor May!' What a load of shit. Nappy-ass ho sassing me like that."

"What's the play?" the second voice said.

"Not sure. Let's see if we can come up with anything. If we find any drugs or paraphernalia, we can take the car by civil forfeiture. Hell, even if we don't we can seize it on suspicion. This is a nice ride. It'd make a good squad car."

Laughter

"For sure I'm going to let her cool her heels in a cell overnight just for mouthing off like that. Call it resisting arrest. You'll say you saw her punch me, right?"

More laughter. "Oh, for sure. She totally resisted arrest. You'll be covered in bruises tomorrow. Man, this car is clean. Think she stole it right off a lot?"

"Who knows where she... wait. Shit."

"What?"

"The fucking phone is on!'

"That bitch."

Megan picked up her phone and slipped it back inside her jacket. A long moment of silence filled the police station lobby.

"That... That's open to interpretation," the chief said.

"Sure is. I can't wait to argue this in front of a jury with a supporting witness who heard all of the exchange, not just the little piece I just played for you, and who can back up Dr. May's account on the stand." She hooked her thumb at me. "It'll be fun. None of these are signed yet, by the way, but I'll have a judge's signature on every one of 'em by the end of the week."

She opened her briefcase and started slapping documents on the counter.

"A subpoena for your officer's vehicle camera footage. A subpoena for their body-cam footage. If they turned their cams off during their illegal search in violation of your department's policy, that's going to be another nice thing I get to use at trial to impeach their credibility. By the way, thanks for having your body-cam policy published on your website, that was useful, I've already got a screenshot. This is a subpoena for my client's GPS phone data, which will show she was in a traffic jam moving no faster than walking speed when your guys pulled her over for speeding. This is a subpoena for all civil asset forfeiture seizures your department has made in the last five years. It'll be interesting to see what percentage of those are from persons of color. Here's a subpoena for--"

"Look--"

"Chief, you can bloviate all you want, but your guys fucked up," Megan steamrolled him, "if only by being unlucky enough to have pulled over someone smart enough to have kept her girlfriend on the phone while your officers violated her civil rights, and the girlfriend being smart enough to record your officers. So, I want to do a safety check on my client tonight. Not tomorrow, not Monday after she's arraigned. Now. I want to make sure she's okay. As I said, you are fully within your rights not to let me see her until Monday. However, I'll also give you a head's up that my colleague here has Jackson Quinn on speed dial."

"Who?"

"The local police beat reporter for the Washington Post," Addison chimed in, "He also likes to write about police misconduct in small towns outside of D.C. as well, especially misconduct toward persons of color, civil rights violations, that sort of thing." She held up her cell phone and waggled it. "I texted him earlier this evening. Said I might have a story for him about officers illegally profiling and detaining a Howard University professor and author of a book on the subject of race relations and policing in America, while she was on her way back from being a keynote speaker at a conference at Virginia Tech about race relations and policing in America. Got to be right up there with Harvard's Professor Gates being arrested trying to open his own front door." She turned to Megan, "Sounds delicious, don't you think?