Roswell Fanatics

"You need to get some rest, Liz," said Officer Debbie McCandles.

"Maybe if I knew what was really happening to Max, I could rest a little bit easier...," said Liz with an imploring look on her face. Debbie fought back a smile, remembering that this young lady - at least if what she said when she was drunk was any indication - had long term plans of bearing the young man's children. The last thing she needed right now was to know Max was in some sort of legal trouble - allegedly due to beating up her suspected assailant. Still, she could go downstairs to the jail ward and talk to the LPN down there and at least give the young lady an update of his medical condition....

"I'll go check up on him and get back to you. You going to be OK alone here for ten or fifteen minutes?"

"I'll be fine. Just tell me how Max is when you get back..."

As Debbie left the ward she went out through the door and it locked behind her. Employees of the medical center had a magnetic stripe ID to get back in. Debbie didn't - she would have to use the keypad below the magnetic stripe reader. It was a combination pad that could be set for any four numbers giving - in theory - ten thousand possible combinations of numbers.

Trying one combination every second, that would have required almost two and a half hours to exhaust those combinations, but both Lexie and Doug knew that people really didn't program locks that way. There were certain combinations - like 0-0-0-0 and 1-1-1-1, that were almost never used. Other combinations were rarely used - like having three of the four digits be the same such as 1-X-1-1 or similar. Some combinations, however, were quite common.

Doug and Lexie had started trying the combinations almost an hour ago and had expected to crack the code in less than ninety minutes. In fact it took them less than twelve minutes. The combination turned out to be 1-2-3-4 - the sort of combination an idiot would put on his luggage.

So Doug and Lexie had hidden in the empty room adjacent to Liz for the last forty minutes - hoping that the female officer would leave her alone for awhile. As soon as Debbie McCandles was out the door Doug went out after her - his cellphone already set up to send Lexie a text message of warning should Debbie McCandles head back to Liz's ward. That left Lexie free to go in and talk to Liz in relative security.

Liz looked up at the soft knock on the door.

"Hi Liz," said Lexie, "... how are you doing?"

"I'm a little beat up and I guess hung over - but a lot better than I could be. I'm worried about Max though. Do you have any idea what's happened to him?"

"Well," said Lexie, "... fortunately you are already sitting down..."

“What's happened to him?” Liz asked, suddenly all the more alarmed.

“How much do you remember, Liz?”

“Not much I'm afraid. The police woman said that I was drugged … and that memory loss was a part of that. She says it's unlikely I'm ever going to be able to remember much of last night.”

“What's the last thing you do remember?”

“Coming back to the dorm and talking with you after getting my fingernails done and my new t-shirt.”

“Well then, let me tell you what I know for sure. First of all you and I got dressed up for the dance. I started dancing with Max, you started dancing with Doug. When we got to a slow dance Doug danced you over to Max and me and switched partners. You and Max were doing pretty well when Doug and I left. We went upstairs and – well a considerable amount of time went by – maybe an hour or so – and then suddenly Max was pounding on the door of our room – asking if you were there. He said he couldn't find you. I told him you weren't in the room and he went off to look. Not too many minutes later there was a fire alarm and we had to evacuate. After everybody got out a few minutes went by and they brought you out on a stretcher carried by a couple of firemen with an EMT forcing you to breathe with a mask and a breathing bag. I tried to get in the ambulance with you – but they wouldn't let me. Then they brought out Max. I'm not sure if he was conscious or not – somebody said he'd been hit by a Taser or something. Anyway, both of you were brought here.
Afterwards a couple of detectives were asking questions about Max. They seemed surprised when we told them he'd been up on the fourth floor at our room shortly before the fire alarm. Another girl told them he'd asked her to check all the women's restrooms for you just before the fire drill, and that seemed to surprise them too. Then one guy said he was pretty sure that Max was the one that set off the fire alarm – the guy said Max seemed to be having a panic attack or something.”

“Is Max OK?”

“Well, my understanding is that he recovered pretty quickly once he got to the hospital – and that the police – they were apparently the ones who used a stun gun on him...”

“They used a stun gun on Max?” Liz repeated angrily.

“I guess they found him with you – you were unconscious – they thought he was attacking you and he really was too excited or scared or something to tell them any different – so they stunned him to get him away from you.”

“Oh no. Poor Max... he really doesn't communicate well under pressure... but how COULD they believe that he'd ever try to hurt me?”

“They didn't know him, Liz, and I guess he was kind of panicky as well. Anyway he fought back against the policeman who found the two of you together and the guy thought Max had assaulted you and – well one thing led to another, I guess. But after they took our testimony – Doug and me and the others – they seemed real convinced he wasn't the person who attacked you. And I guess – well he recovered pretty quickly – sooner I guess than they expected.”

Liz looked into Lexie's eyes. Maybe Max wouldn't have noticed, but there was nothing wrong with Liz Parker's ability to communicate or understand nuances – there was something the girl wasn't telling her.

“Lexie -what's wrong?”

“Wrong? What do you mean – wrong?”

“Don't give me that – you are holding something back – something about Max. Tell me the truth – all of it.”

“Liz, Max escaped from custody – I don't know how. I do know that he went back to his room because Doug lives there too and they had to move him to a different room for tonight because Max and Doug's old room is now a crime scene.”

“A crime scene?”

“Max got in a fight with Jimmy Drevins.”

“A fight?”

“They say Max tried to kill him. They say the police had to shock him again – multiple times – just to get him off Drevins. Even so, Drevins was all smashed up – there was blood all over the place when Doug was allowed to pick up his shaving kit and clothes for tomorrow, and the CSI is probably still there. Max is downstairs in the jail ward – recovering from the second run in with the police. I don't know how he's doing exactly. Anyway – I guess your parents and his have been notified and they'll be up here as soon as they can make travel arrangements. In the meantime, Max is going to be kept in custody.”

“You still aren't telling me everything, Lexie.”

“I'm telling you everything I saw personally, Liz. Honest.”

“But you are still holding something back. I can tell...”

“Only because it's just hearsay...”

“I don't care, I still want to hear it. Tell me – please Lexie, I've got to know....”

“Well.....some of the people who were down at the dance said that you and Max only danced that one dance together – that later on you danced with some other guys and then somebody who sounds an awful lot like Jimmy Drevins came over to you and Max came back – that the two of you – you and Max – had a fight and you told him that – well, the girl I spoke to said you told him you 'damn sure weren't his girlfriend,' and you sent him away. Then it seems like you wandered off with the other guy – like I said, probably Drevins.”

Liz was visibly shaking. “So I did the thing you told me not to do … I tried to use Jimmy Drevins to make Max feel jealous – and I almost got myself raped and killed – and I'm responsible for getting Max arrested too – even after he helped me - again.”

“Liz, you can't know that...” said Lexie.

But Liz did know that. It was the only way that any of this made sense. Max had gone off after the first dance and she'd been hurt and angry – just like when she'd pushed him too hard last Spring and her temper had made her throw her friendship pendant away to spite him.

He'd always been shy - she knew that. But she'd been impatient with him - angry that he wouldn't do what she wanted -that he wouldn't be the boyfriend that she'd pictured him being. She'd yelled at him in front of a crowd and embarrassed and insulted him – hurt his feelings even though he was just trying to warn her. And Max had been right. Just like when he'd warned her about the catalysts and the pressure cooker - Max had been right.

'What's wrong with me?' she asked herself. 'Why do I do this to him?' The tears started then - and the first sob.

"Liz," said Lexie, squeezing her hand, "... don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known this would happen."

"You warned me - and Max warned me too, and I didn't listen. It's my fault that I almost got raped and almost died - and the funny thing is I could live with that. I deserved that. But now I've gotten Max in trouble too."

"Nobody deserves for this to happen to them, Liz. You didn't deserve to have someone assault you, and you couldn't have known Max would do something like this."

"Don't you understand, Lexie? It's all been about me. We weren't even in middle school last Spring and - because he wouldn't agree to start dating - I did the most hateful thing I could think of to him. I tossed away a pendant he'd given me - just because he wouldn't do what I wanted...."

The tears were streaming from Liz's eyes and Lexie was hugging her - trying to comfort her - trying to calm her down, but she seemed inconsolable.

"I saw the look in his eyes when I picked Pamela Troy for my lab partner. I could tell he'd wanted to be friends again - to put the whole lonely summer behind us - but no - I had to punish him for not doing what I wanted. I saw the pain in his eyes and I was glad - because I'd showed him who was boss. If anyone should have known Max wasn't ready it should have been me - but I pushed him and resented him when he didn't do what I wanted - and he was right - we aren't ready to be a couple - I'm not ready. When you think of you and Doug you think of Doug - of what Doug wants and what Doug needs. When I think of Max I think of what I want and what I need. I've been lying to myself about loving Max. I've been loving myself - and trying to use Max to make MY dreams come true. He deserves better than that. He deserves better than me. He deserves better than to be in jail because Liz Parker was stupid."

"Max is the one who made the decision to attack Drevins, Liz. You couldn't have known he'd do that."

"No Lexie, I'm done with lying to myself - trying to convince myself that I was manipulating Max for his own good. If I'd cared about Max as much as he cared about me, I'd have been there with him this summer. I'd have taken as much time as it took for him to understand how much I cared for him and if he wouldn't - or couldn't - reciprocate.... I would have understood, and still wanted him for a friend. I purposely did this to goad Max knowing that he cared - if I hadn't known he cared I wouldn't have known it would hurt him - and I can't pretend that I'm not responsible for the consequences.

He did it once before - the kids name was Billy Souto. Billy was just a bully - I'm not even sure why he hated me. Billy was chasing me on a bicycle and I crashed my bike in front of a car. Max pulled me free and saved my life. I got away with just a broken arm and no one could really prove that Billy had been involved.
Max was even more shy then - didn't even go out for recess - but he did the next time he saw Billy out in the playground. Max goaded him into tossing the first punch - then broke his arm just like mine had been broken. But no one could prove it then - everybody knew - but we all winked and pretended it was just an accident - but we all knew better. Max had done it to punish Billy Souto - and Billy never hurt me again.
This time though, he had to break out of jail to go back and find Drevins. That's not going to be something we can cover up - and I created the situation that led him to do it because I was petty and hurtful.

No, what Max did was predictable because he cares for me. If I was too stupid to take care of myself, Max would do whatever it took to protect me. It's always been that way.

Maybe I didn't know what would happen but I knew what I was trying to do. I was trying to hurt Max ... and in the end I guess I succeeded. Max is in the hospital and in jail and I'm responsible."

"Liz, you can't beat yourself up like this...I know it's hard...hard being a couple instead of just thinking about yourself. It's not like Doug and I didn't have our moments before we got where we are. We are all individuals and... I guess ... sort of selfish. It takes awhile before we understand that being in love with someone really means being able to put the other one first sometimes. That's only human."

"Then I guess Max just isn't human, Lexie, .... because it was never that way with him. Ever since the first day we met - he's never put himself first. He's killed for me - almost died for me - and now he's hospitalized and he'll go to jail - for me..."

Sometimes, Lexie thought, all you can do is hug someone and just let them cry it out. Liz was still crying ten minutes later when her cellphone rang and she had to leave the girl to hide in the room next door. Three minutes later she was outside the ward meeting Doug.

"How's Liz doing?"

"Not good. I sort of wish that I hadn't talked to her at all - I think I just made things worse."

"Hey, She's been through a lot and she's going to be upset for awhile - but I'm sure it helped Liz to have a friend to talk to and to know that you care about her."

"Maybe. But the friend she really needs to talk to is Max."

Dulles Marriott, Chantilly Virginia
0730 Eastern time (0530 Mountain time)
It was 0730 and Captain Roger “Rabbit” Reynolds had finished most of what the Dulles Marriott described as a 'continental breakfast' - which he assumed was so-named because it would have fed the people on a small continent and had checked out. He grabbed his overnight bag and hopped on the courtesy bus that would take him back to the airport.

It would be a busy morning. Although the maintenance people would supervise the actual loading of the aircraft that would go to the Smithsonian, it fell to the junior man to complete the paperwork - but with any luck at all, the last of THAT problem would be finished by noon. Then he could just hang out until the airshow finished at 4 PM. Fortunately he would be one of the first in the queue of departing display aircraft - assuming he could get the last remaining stealthfighter preflighted in time. Airshow crowds were notorious for using display aircraft for garbage receptacles.

Even so, he was an old hand at this. With any luck at all, he'd be off on time and back at Holloman not too much after dark.


Eighty minutes later
Superior Court, Boulder Colorado
0650 Mountain Time

The Court Clerk was just turning the lights on as the Superior Court Judge came in the back door to his chambers.

"Do you have any Idea why we are here, your honor? Somebody on death row trying to get a reprieve or something?"

"I got a call from Justice Willows in Denver saying we had an emergency habeus corpus case to hear. Sounds kind of bogus to me, but he's the Chief Justice, and if he says we hear it I guess we hear it. Makes you wonder who has that kind of political clout though."

The clerk nodded his head. Superior Court judges were non-partisan which supposedly made them immune to politicking. That generally wasn't the way it worked out up in Denver though. As he looked out the door he saw a familiar Cadillac into the parking lot and he knew exactly who had that much clout. It belonged to the richest and most successful defense lawyer in Denver - still just an unethical shyster as far as the clerk was concerned, but an enormously successful one.

Pulling in beside the Cadillac was the ancient Datsun station wagon of their most junior county prosecutor - a nice enough young lady, but she'd only passed the bar two years ago. She looked like she'd gotten out of bed only about twenty minutes ago - much like the clerk himself.

'Well,' the clerk thought to himself, '...I'm already sure we aren't going to see much justice done this morning,' but at least the proceedings ought to be mercifully short...'

Judge Randolph Perkins tried his best to be objective – but the fact was that he kind of liked Assistant Deputy Prosecutor Patty Holmes, and in contrast his private opinion of Lance Bertram III, attorney at law, was likely a little harsher than that of his court clerk. Although she was young and inexperienced, she worked hard and was scrupulously ethical. The less said about Bertram's ethics the better – although that certainly didn't seem to have hurt him economically.

“Mr. Bertram, I understand you wish to present a petition for a writ of habeus corpus to present to tjis court?”

“Yes, your honor. My client is a sixteen year-old honor student from California who is presently in Boulder as a regional finalist of the national science fair. He is currently in the jail ward at Boulder Medical Center with severe and disfiguring injuries that require immediate medical treatment by a plastic surgeon. I have a faxed statement from Dr. Johan Brotman, a plastic surgeon at the Malibu Plastics institute that my client – Mr. Jimmy Blevins – requires an immediate transfer to his care. He states unequivocally that he is the only one competent to handle these particular injuries.”

Bertram handed the fax to the judge who looked at it and handed it to his clerk. In fact that was indeed Dr. Brotman's opinion – although he actually hadn't done facial fractures since his residency. In fact he seldom even did face lifts anymore – he was sort of the plastic surgery clinic's 'tits and ass' man – which didn't mean he'd lied in the written statement. Dr. Brotman had both an obsessive personality disorder – not necessarily a handicap for a plastic surgeon – and a narcissistic personality disorder – meaning he fit right in with the majority of his Hollywood patients – and meant every word of his statement.

“...and I take it that the Boulder police department are in some way interfering with the young man flying back to California, Mr. Bertram?”

“They are indeed, your honor. On only the flimsiest of pretexts, they have my client incarcerated in the jail ward and will not permit him to be transferred to obtain the treatment he vitally needs.”

“Miss Holmes...?”

Patty Holmes had been awakened from a sound sleep less than forty minutes ago when she had been suddenly put in charge of fighting this writ. She had gotten up out of a warm and particularly cozy bed that she had been very happily sharing to come defend against this petition. It had been obvious from the start that this had been done by design – by someone in Denver who clearly wished for the Boulder PD to lose this case, and the whole thing made her mad – particularly the part about getting up leaving the cozy situation in the bed. Given the circumstances – that she'd been selected as the designated fall guy,,,, er fall girl... she had become determined not to let that happen and in violation of the laws of the State of Colorado had been on her cell phone with the Boulder PD during the entire time she'd been driving in to the court.

“Your honor, the esteemed legal counsel somehow neglected to mention to you that his client is under arrest on a charge of felony sexual assault and attempted murder. Furthermore, I've consulted with a local physician – a second year surgical resident at Boulder Medical Center who informs me that the petitioner's injuries...,” she peered down at her notes to read them, “... a nasal fracturre, a fractured zygomatic arch, and a LeFort type one fracture do not require urgent treatment by anyone – in fact initially they should be treated by icing the injury and analgesics for twelve hours and then after the swelling has subsided any of a half dozen plastic surgeons in the city of Boulder would be entirely competent to provide definitive treatment.”

“My understanding is that you were only informed of this case forty minutes ago. Do you have documentation of this alleged opinion, Miss Holmes?”

“No - that was verbally conveyed to me, but I certainly can get one of the local plastic surgeons to provide his opinion in the next few hours, if you don't trust my word Mr. Bertram.”

“I am inclined to believe Miss Holmes, Mr. Bertram. She is – like yourself – an officer of the court. If she says that she found a second year surgical resident to consult with at 6AM on a Sunday morning and that is what he said – I will certainly give her the morning to get written opinions from local expert witnesses,” said the judge, frowning down at Bertram. It irritated him to have Bertram – arguably the least ethical attorney in the local area – implying that the young prosecutor was lying about this. Besides, Judge Perkins knew that Patty Holmes had been dating a surgical resident for almost two years. If he was at the hospital on duty she could almost certainly have reached him with a phone call -either on the ward or if he'd been asleep at an on-call room. If it hadn't been the guy's night on call, an elbow to the ribs could have probably awakened him even faster. Although the young lady was the junior prosecutor, she was the wrong one to try to bullshit about a medical issue.

“Well your honor, even if that were so – and I'm not really conceding that point – the police simply do not have probable cause to hold my client. I have a sworn and signed disposition here from my client as to what happened. My client simply asked a young lady for a dance at a public dance being given for the science fair students. There was apparently an altercation between this girl and – well I guess it would be a former boyfriend of hers. She became visibly upset – not at my client of course – but at the former boyfriend. She asked my client to accompany her to protect her from this boy who the girl claimed had a history of violence. He accompanied her to what he thought was merely an area where they could get some refreshments and allow the young lady to calm down, but to my clients surprise the young lady pulled out a bottle of tequila and insisted that my client join her in drinking margueritas. My client refused of course, but was unable to dissuade the female involved from consuming some of the tequila herself. Apparently at this time she also consumed some drugs as well and subsequently became sexually aggressive – pleading with my client to engage in acts that were totally inappropriate – in fact immoral.

When he refused her overtures she attempted to pull him to her and kiss him and – when he pulled away – raked her fingernails viciously down his back demanding that he perform acts that I certainly wouldn't wish to read in open court before Miss Holmes here. My client of course would have nothing to do with her and – after this assault by her – left the room feeling that his own safety was in question. He went to a movie hoping to get away from both this girl and her violent and threatening friend – but to no avail.

When he returned to his own room he was savagely attacked and beaten by the girl's male companion – someone the police had already arrested earlier for himself attacking the girl – but who had escaped from their custody. My client was savagely beaten and even when the police arrived they had to stun the girl's companion three or four times to keep him from killing my client.

But then – incredibly – despite the fact that my client had done absolutely nothing but try to counsel the young girl as to the error of her ways – the police arrested – I can still scarcely believe it – arrested MY CLIENT as he lay broken and disfigured on the floor. I have here my client's sworn affidavit that this is the case your honor, and I submit that these circumstances totally justify this court acting upon this petition and granting a writ of habeus corpus releasing my client to allow him to go to California for treatment near his own home.”

Patty Holmes was reading the documents as quickly as she could. “Your honor, this is the first I've seen of these documents. I would like time to review them.”

“Your honor, this is nothing but stalling. I've reviewed the police documentation. They have arrested my client for sexual assault and attempted murder and the girl who they are claiming he attempted to assault and murder has stated that she has no recollection of even seeing my client this evening.”

“Your honor,” said Patty Holmes, “...perhaps the only thing I agree with Mr. Bertram about is that I DID get this case only forty minutes ago... but I think I have established that Mr. Drevins does not require emergency transfer to California. I ask the court's indulgence to give me a couple of hours to review the police arrest records and consult with the police detectives involved.”

“Your honor, I object. The prosecutor's lack of preparation is scarcely the petitioners fault.”

“I will give the prosecutor thirty minutes to provide me with an expert opinion that emergency transfer of the patient is not required. If – as I suspect – she manages that, I will agree to give her an additional ninety minutes to read the deposition of your client, Mr. Bertram, and to consult with the police department personnel investigating this case. This is not a trial and she does not have to prove the guilt of your client, Mr. Bertram. She merely has to be able to show that the police have probable cause for detaining him for further investigation. The court stands recessed for a half hour – less if Miss Holmes can provide the documentation more speedily than that. If she can provide that documentation I intend to recess these proceedings until 9AM at which time we will meet again to hear Miss Holmes' arguments against this petition. This court stands adjourned.”

0850 Sunday Morning, Dunken, New Mexico

The rays of the morning sun struck the high desert east of the Sacramento mountains and for the moist tropical low those rays came none too soon. The terrain at Dinken was over as mile high and the clear nights of the high desert get surprisingly cold despite the southern latitude. Through most of the winter and early spring the night time temperatures may fall below freezing – even if it warms to the low sixties during the day. The tropical low had brought ample warm moist air to the higher levels and once that had time to mix with the colder upper level air the convective results would be – too put it mildly – intense. But the warm rays of the desert sun were now slowing that process. They would not – could not – slow it for long, of course. By evening the desert would again cool and with the amount of moisture held in the upper level warm air, the system would rapidly become unstable as the air mass found its temperature suddenly far below its dew point. Of course, it wouldn't be dew that would form – at least not for very long. Ten degrees of cooling would cause huge amounts of water to condense and fall as rain. Even before that happened the convective activity would create towering cumulus and anvil clouds and huge upsurges of air as the energy stored in the system was released. Had there been a few high clouds to block the sun from warming the desert and rapidly rising air mass, that might be happening even now. But there were no clouds – all that was present was a huge warm air mass that was becoming progressively unstable – an air mass that had beaten enormous odds both to come this far and to escape discovery as it did so. A storm of the century is uncommon enough. For it to have altogether escaped detection so far was in its own way even more remarkable.

Superior Court, Boulder Colorado
0900 Sunday Morning

“All rise...,” said the court clerk, and Judge Perkins returned to the bench.

“Mr. Bertram, are you ready to resume arguments?”

“Yes, your honor. The sooner we get this case going the sooner my client can arrange transportation to somewhere he can get appropriate treatment and, I might add, the emotional support of his loving parents.”

“Miss Holmes?”

“Almost, your honor. I have reviewed the affidavits and been in contact with both the detectives and officer Jim Blair who seems to be sort of honchoing this case. He should be here very shortly to fill us all in onn the latest findings – both from the detectives and the CSI forensics team.”

“Are you ready to start without him, Miss Holmes?

“I believe so your honor. It is the opinion of the state prosecutor that probable cause does indeed exist for the continued incarceration of Jimmy Drevins and it is our belief that the actual scenario was quite different from the one described by Mr. Bertram.

The history as we reconstruct it is that the victim, a thirteen year old girl, was attending a dance sponsored by the university in connection with the Science Fair and while there danced with a number of males – including a dance with a longtime childhood friend followed by a number of dances with other students as well – documented on the camera of the childhood friend. Apparently the young man involved had no particular problems with this young lady dancing with any of the students at the dance – until Mr. Drevins attempted to dance with her.

Mr. Drevins was apparently assigned as a room mate to both Miss Parker's friend – Maxwell Evans – as well as a Mr. Douglas Hanover. According to Mr. Hanover it is the habit of Mr. Bertrams client to make lewd and vulgar comments about females in general and on several occasions against Miss Parker in particular with a number of these comments being in the presence of Mr. Evans.

Apparently this concerned Mr. Evans enough that he attempted to dissuade Miss Parker from dancing with Mr. Drevins leading to an argument with Miss Parker and Mr. Evans leaving. Some minutes later Miss Parker was seen to leave in the company of Mr/. Blevins. Shortly after that Mr. Evans came back and apparently became markedly concerned that Miss Parker was missing.

The boy was a foundling child and is socially somewhat impaired – apparently from early sensory and/or maternal; deprivation. Miss Parker has been working with him – trying to increase his socialization – since the third grade. Mr. Evans apparently became increasingly agitated at the absence of Miss Parker – began going floor to floor looking for her and even pounding on at least one door asking about her. He also asked several females to check restrooms to see if she was in them. Not finding her it seems the young man panicked and set off a fire alarm – again, apparently in an attempt to find her. All of these statements can be independently verified by multiple witnesses.

At some time or other during the fire alarm evacuation process Max Evans did find Liz Parker. She was unconscious and in fact so intoxicated with a combination of GHBA and tequila that she had ceased breathing. Also, her pants had been removed – leaving her dressed only in her underpants from her waist down and she had a bruising pattern on her torso suggesting that she had been physically assaulted - most likely punched several times in the lower abdomen - according to the CDI analysis of the subsequent bruising pattern.

At this point Miss Parker and Mr. Evans were discovered by Officer Jim Blair of the campus security office who was checking to assure the rooms were evacuated because of the fire alarm. Officer Blair perceived what was going on to be a sexual assault and unfortunately Mr. Evans' communication skills at that time were inadequate to convince him otherwise before the officer attempted to pull the young man - who was doing mouth-to-mouth breathing to keep Miss Parker alive - off of what he considered at the time to be a sexual assault victim. A surprisingly lively altercation ensued - considering the disparity in experience, age, physical size and weaponry, leading to Officer Blair stunning Mr. Parker repeatedly. Only then did the officer notice that the young lady was not breathing and call the firemen and EMTs.

To his credit Officer Blair put in his report at the time that in retrospect he did not consider what Mr. Evans did to be resisting arrest - merely attempting to save the life of Miss Parker - and he did this even before the detectives had learned that the young man had been frantic to find Miss Evans and that the time frame of absorption of the GHBA essentially establishes that Mr. Evans was not with the girl at the time that she became intoxicated.

It is therefore established beyond any reasonable doubt that Mr. Evans was not with Miss Parker during the time that she consumed the drugged drink which CSI recovered traces of from a glass having her fingerprints. The other glass had - apparently - been wiped clean.

Strangely enough, while Miss Parker's glass contained an exceptionally high concentration of GHBA, it contained no alcohol whatsoever. There was one handprint on the tequila bottle - that of Miss Parker. It was a perfect handprint - that is, as if the bottle had been wiped clean of all other handprints and her hand forcefully clenched around that bottle. "

"Your honor, I object. Miss Holmes is merely speculating..."

"On the contrary, your honor, I am communicating the essence of what the CSI investigators reconstructed. They indicate that bottles such as this one are almost never recovered with only one perfect print. Even on the shelf of a liquor store, you will usually have the fingerprints of the clerk who stocked the shelves, and it is virtually impossible to get the sale rung up without both the customer and the cashier getting their fingerprints on the bottle. Furthermore even if one person does consume an entire fifth of liquor, it is practically unheard of that they will use only one hand gripping the container only once.

The wiping of the bottle constitutes premeditation - premeditation by someone knowing that the quantity of alcohol involved - at least with the quantity of GHBA that had already been given to Miss Parker - was likely to be lethal. The person doing it would not have done that if they weren't intentionally trying to conceal their involvement. Clearly it wasn't Mr. Evans who did that - he found Miss Parker late in that process and stayed with her to keep her alive rather than trying to sanitize the scene before leaving.

By his own admission Mr. Drevins was at the scene of the assault - and by his own admission he fled the scene. Mr. Evans' recollections of the entire period are somewhat cloudy - he was apparently stunned in the base of the neck and it is possible - according to a neurologist and psychiatrist who have been consulted - that this may have impaired his memory - indeed, rendered him incapable of really understanding his actions - from that period until he awoke in the hospital after his second admission. At that time he could remember only seeing Mr. Drevins leave the room - but he remembers clearly that this occurred during the fire alarm evacuation. It was that - in fact - which allowed Mr. Evans to discover the room that Miss Parker was in. He states that he remembers seeing here there - not breathing - and started mouth-to-mouth breathing immediately. Mr. Evans' story is consistent with the time frame of the opportunity he would have had from when he was seen to initiate the fire alarm and when Officer Blair discovered him. Clearly the condition that Miss Parker was in when Mr. Drevins left the room - partially disrobed and in the process of stopping breathing from drug and alcohol intoxication - is inconsistent with Mr. Drevins allegations that she was sexually aggressive and he left the room believing that his safety was in question. I would submit that his only worry was that Miss Parker would either survive and remember his assault upon her person, or that he'd get caught leaving the room."

"Your honor, I object. This entire supposition against my client - yes supposition, no more than that - depends totally on the testimony of one witness - a person that has reason to be jealous of my client - a person that the assistant prosecutor admits has a history of mental health issues of his own - and a person who was himself witnessed by an officer of the law attempting to kill my client - in fact a person who only was restrained FROM killing my client by the intervention of a 220 pound police officer who practically exhausted his stun gun before physically controlling that person. I would think even the ASSISTANT prosecutor might realize that this rebuffed boyfriend who engaged in a savage attack that disfigured and horribly injured my poor client might lack the objectivity to be a credible witness against my client. This so-called case, your honor, is built on no more than that - the statements of someone who appears to have been emotionally unstable to begin with - goaded to jealousy and publicly berated by this sexually aggressive young lady - and I use the word 'lady' advisedly here - who took out his own social - and I dare say sexual - frustrations by attempting to murder my client. Were it not for my clients urgent need to get treatment in California I would almost enjoy ripping this case apart in a court of law and humiliating the ASSISTANT prosecutor in the process - but given the urgency of my clients medical condition I think that this farce has gone on long enough.

If this so-called case were to go to trial, your honor, the verdict will boil down to convincing twelve jurors beyond a reasonable doubt that the speculations of Miss Holmes are in fact reality - that all the 'apparent' this and 'apparent' that that she talks about are really as apparent to each of those jurors as they seem to our esteemed ASSISTANT prosecutor. Each of those twelve jurors will need to be convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that the testimony of one thirteen year old boy with known emotional problems from a regrettably unfortunate childhood where - who knows what demons lurk in that back ground - after being publicly scorned and humiliated by a young lady he cared for - after apparently running through the building in panic - illegally triggering a fire alarm in his panic because he was looking for my client and Miss Parker - actually saw in the midst of a fire alarm evacuation my client - who as the ASSISTANT prosecutor fully knows has documentation that he was in a movie theater at that very time."

Judge Perkins was wishing he could tell Bertram that if he rubbed Miss Holmes's nose in the fact that she was the ASSISTANT prosecutor just one more time, he'd personally take him out back and kick his butt. He couldn't of course - he would have had to recuse himself from this case. He didn't want to do that. He'd done this long enough - and seen Patty Holmes at work often enough - to see that the young lady had a slight smile that told him the best was yet to come.

At least that had better be the case because Bertram was right about one thing - although the young lady could make a pretty good case for at least felonious sexual assault and reckless endangerment - Judge Perkins saw no way to prove that the lethal dose of alcohol had actually been intentionally administered - like most GHBA cases there were generally only two people present when the assault happened and one of them wasn't able to remember anything. It was hellishly frustrating - and one of the main reasons the drug itself was illegal. Even if they could prove the Drevins kid was in the room - and that was currently the most tenuous part of the prosecutor's case - there was virtually no chance of getting all twelve jurors to believe a single witness. Especially one who himself had emotional problems as well as an axe to grind. Right now the unsupported testimony of this Max Evans simply wasn't credible enough to convict this Drevins kid who apparently was also an honor student with no prior charges against him.

Of course, this hearing wasn't about convicting the kid - just seeing if there was enough probable suspicion for the police to hold on to the kid while continuing to investigate and certainly the prosecutor had met that threshold. Before the judge could say that though, Patty Holmes replied.

"The movie ticket defense does NOT establish 'documentation' that he was there -simply that he found an old movie ticket, but there's more," said Miss Holmes, nodding at the door where Jim Blair had just entered. "Officer Blair, would you care to share with us the latest findings from the CSI and detectives?"

It took a few minutes for Jim Blair's credentials to be established but before long he was on the stand.

"It became clear to me after reading the statement of numerous witnesses that in the period before the fire drill Max Evans didn't have a clue where Miss Parker might be. The detectives had discovered that the occupants of that room were gone the whole weekend but I was able to track them down at a ski area and had the local police there bring them in to the station for questioning. Both stated that they had met someone - someone calling himself Max Evans - during a previous fire drill - and that person had paid them to use their room over the weekend. Since this was inconsistent with the fact that the real Max Evans hadn't been able to locate Miss Parker without pulling the fire alarm, I talked to additional witnesses - Miss Parker's room mate - Miss Alexis Rudman, and a room mate of Mr. Evans, - Mr Douglas Hanover. Both confirmed that Mr. Evans and Miss Parker were with them during the fire drill - they were adamant that there was no chance that Max Evans could have actually talked to the two individuals who were assigned to that ground floor room.

I sent a photo lineup to the police at the ski area - taking the pictures of a dozen males who had been participants in the science fair - the pictures were required for public relations purposes. This dozen included both Mr. Evans picture as well as Mr. Drevins picture. Both room occupants independently verified that the individual who had introduced himself to them as 'Max Evans' was in fact Mr. Jimmy Drevins.

Using the Drevins boy's picture I went to all the mixer shops in the area."

"Excuse me? Mixer shops?" asked the judge.

"Yes, your honor. Sorry if being a cop has made me cynical, but I just don't think there's too much point going to liquor stores and asking clerks if they've sold tequila to a sixteen year old. If they have they damn sure won't admit it. So I asked if they had sold any of the non-alcoholic Marguerita mix to anyone who looked like this - showing them the pre-injury picture of Mr. Drevins. The clerk on duty said that he thought he had. We checked back on the video security camera they use in case of robberies and we found an excellent video of Mr. Drevins buying marguerita mix and that special salt you use to dip the rim of the glasses in - the same brands as recovered from the crime scene. What's more, we tracked back and got a copy of the receipt."

"Your honor, I think we can make the case that - far from being some spontaneous event - or anything set up by Liz Parker," said Patty Holmes, "... this was a premeditated action upon the part of Mr. Drevins to first secure a room - then secure ingredients - ingredients specifically designed to hide the taste of GHBA - to facilitate giving Miss Parker an illegal drug which by itself constitutes felonious assault. This also indicates that Mr. Drevins perjured himself in these sworn depositions that Mr. Bertram was so kind in providing us with. I think the state has met its burden of showing that we have probable cause upon which to hold Mr. Drevins, and before Mr. Bertram asks, I am already objecting to any notion that Mr. Drevins be given bail - since he is clearly a flight risk."

"Your honor," said Bertram who appeared somewhat shaken by the testimony of Jim Blair, "... the prosecutor has demonstrated nothing but that two students - themselves likely drunken snowboarders - believe that they may have loaned my client their room, and that my client has purchased perfectly legal drinks - which he certainly is entitled to do. They have not established that he had anything whatsoever to do with either the tequila or the drugs which Miss Parker consumed. That hardly constitutes justification to deny bail."

"Excuse me, judge," said Officer Blair, "... but we did."

"Did what, Officer Blair?"

"Well we didn't find the source of the tequila yet - that's true - but the CSI people went through the room where the fight occurred - Drevins and Evans' room - and found in Mr. Drevins locked storage area his notebook computer. It was a Dell - both bays had batteries in it but alongside it was the CD reader that fit in one of the bays if you wanted to read CDs. Strangely enough, when you put it in it wasn't functional. One of our IT guys looked at it and his opinion was that it hadn't been used in a long time - in fact, there appeared to be a white dust clogging the motor. We have tentative identification of that white powder as Gamma hydroxy butyric acid and the CSI people are sending it for full analysis including something called neutron activation analysis. That test won't be able to say with absolute certainty if this is from the same batch as the residue found in the glass of marguerita mix that Miss Parker consumed, but it should be able to tell with certainty if it came from the same illicit laboratory. Interestingly enough, one of our CSI guys noted that the glassine paper packets that were recovered at the scene of Miss Parkers assault were folded to a size that fit precisely in the CD drive of Mr. Drevins computer.”

“I object, your honor. The officer is speculating...”

“He's not speculating when he indicates a size, your honor, just making an observation,” jumped in Patty Holmes. The judge rapped his gavel for silence.

“I would remind counsel that this is not a trial,” Judge Perkins said to Bertram, “...it is a hearing to see if the police have probable cause to detain someone for investigation – they can hardly do that without speculating that SOMEONE actually committed a crime, now can they? And as for you Miss Holmes, I can assure you that I will hear your point on any objection AFTER I ask for it.”

'Yes, your honor,” said a blushing Patty Holmes.

“Now having said that,” said Judge Perkins, “... I doubt that anyone can credibly claim that the police don't have probable cause to hold Mr. Drevins – for lying on a sworn deposition if nothing else. The bench also concurs with the judgement that the petitioner is a flight risk and denies bail. Mr. Bertram, it appears that you need to consult with your client concerning the discrepancies in his testimony and the findings of the police. It will, I would imagine, be quite an interesting discussion. Then you probably need to decide if the young man is being honest enough with you that you can continue to represent him – he certainly appears to have hung you out to dry this morning. Officer Blair, please see to it that Mr. Bertram – if he contines to represent this client – has access to your findings.”

“Yes, your honor.”

“This issue now being settled, this court is adjourned and I – for one – intend to take my clerk out for a Sunday morning breakfast. Any other takers?”

“No thank you, your honor,” said Bertram. “I believe you are right – my client and I have a number of things to discuss.”

“Sorry, Judge,” said Jim Blair,”... I've still got some leads to track down.”

“I'll have to take a raincheck too, your honor,.” said Patty Holmes. “My fiance only gets every other weekend off and I think I'll have breakfast with him.” 'Breakfast in bed if possible,' she thought.

Perkins was getting old – but he had been young once. He was pretty sure what the young lady was thinking.

“Well, you two enjoy yourself – it looks like its going to be a pretty nice day after all,” he said looking out the window. “I had my doubts there for awhile.”

Boulder Medical Center
Jail ward
10:15AM Sunday

"Excuse me officer, but I'm afraid I need to consult with my client again - a matter of lawyer-client confidentiality."

"I understand, Mr. Bertram. I'll buzz you on the intercom before I allow the medical personnel or anyone else to enter the room."

"Thank you, officer," Bertram replied pleasantly. He entered the room and closed the door - to find Jimmy Drevins sitting up in bed with a mirror touching his bruised and deformed nose and wincing in pain. Jimmy looked up as he entered and his eyes fixed on him.

"You there - go tell these doctors I'm going to sue their asses off if I don't get more pain medication. It hurts like hell every time I touch my nose."

"Why did THEY tell you they wouldn't give you any more medication?"

"They said there was nothing they could do until the swelling went down and that I should just keep an ice pack on it - that they'd set the nose when they fixed the other stuff - but they don't have to look at it. It's positively grotesque - and every time I try to push it back straight it's agonizing. So I want you to sue them - for $2000 an hour you ought to be able to do that..."

"For $2000 an hour I can do something much better than that, Mr. Drevins, I can educate you," said Bertram, as he reached out and tweaked the boys fractured nose. The noise of the bone grinding was audible briefly - before the scream drowned it out.

Pain exploded in Jimmy's face and he laid back on the pillows catching his breath. "What was that about?"

"That, my boy, was premeditated assault and battery - but despite that, I'm never going to get charged with it because it's just you and me and your nose was already broken. If you tell the cops that I assaulted you, I simply tell the cops that I didn't. Even if they believe you the prosecutor will know there's no way in the world he's going to convince twelve jurors of that, so he doesn't even waste the state's money by bringing me up on charges. NOW JUST WHAT IN HELL WAS SO DIFFICULT ABOUT UNDERSTANDING THAT THE FIRST TIME?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I made it perfectly clear that you were to let me know anything - anything at all that you did that the cops might be able to discover - but you held back on me - and now you are well and truly screwed. Have you ever heard the phrase, 'You never get a second chance to make a first impression'? Well let me tell you - that goes a thousand times over for sworn depositions. Your possibility of getting out of this without doing any time just went to zero about a half hour ago."

"What did you do?"

"What did I do? What did I do ?- you little shit- I didn't do anything - you held back on me, and you screwed yourself by doing it."

"What happened."

“I asked you where you took the girl and what did you say? You said I 'found an empty room.' You did not say that you paid the owners of the room to give you access. You did not say you used a false name – worse yet – the name of the guy who winds up seeing you there – when you paid for the room. If you had told me that we would have just revised the story. I explained that – it's called immunization. You confess immediately to everything they are going to find out anyway and put the best spin possible on it. All we would have had to do was to say – yeah, I got these guys to lend me their room. The girl was making eyes at me and I was hoping to get to second base with her – you are a sixteen year old kid, for cripes sakes - someone on the jury would have been there when they were young– done that – assuming it ever got to a jury at all. . You told me that you only had the tequila and no one could possibly track where that came from so we very specifically said it was the girl who had brought it to the room. If you'd told me about the mixer and salt, we would have admitted it – said you were just going to do virgin margueritas – or hell, even admitted that the two of you were doing margueritas before the drugs were brought out – what would that have cost? A friggin underage drinking rap? Two week-ends in n alcohol awareness class and a dozen AA meetings later would have settled an underage drinking rap. It would have been a hell of a lot better than what's going to happen now.
You might have told me that you brought in the drugs from California instead of telling me you got them locally. You've got a clean record – we could have said you got them to go to a rave but you told the girl about them and she wanted to see the stuff – and she took them before you could stop her and then went berserk – close enough to the truth that they couldn't prove any different – and it ain't like the girl remembers – but no.... you hold out on your lawyer like the stupid prick you are – then send me in with a sworn deposition that even the most junior friggin assistant prosecuting attorney in the county can now use to totally discredit you because they found the residue in the CD reader in your computer. THAT'S what happened. You lied where they could catch you, and now that undermines your credibility everywhere else. All we needed was one juror to have reasonable doubt – doubt between you and the Evans kid or doubt as to the prosecutions theory. You've screwed that over big-time.”

Jimmy hadn't wanted to tell Bertram about bringing in the drugs because he hadn't wanted him to know about either the lab or the distribution system – or especially the amount of money he'd already made. Moreover, he hadn't really thought it would be a problem. “I honestly didn't expect them to find anything in the computer – I've certainly been through enough airports where they missed it.”

Bertram rolled his eyes skyward. “They missed it because they were looking for something that would blow up a friggin airplane – not for drugs, you stupid ass.”

“I am not stupid. If you had any idea of the amount of money I've made – or the size organization I've built...”

“Look, kid, ...maybe you think your some sort of young Lex Luther – hell maybe you are brilliant when it comes to the science stuff – it don't matter now – you are totally screwed, because you've got no street smarts. Let me tell you what we need to do – do another deposition admitting everything they can prove – we'll put the best spin on it we can. They can't prove attempted murder well enough to convince a jury. You get maybe five years for the assault – maybe two or three more for reckless endangerment by running off when the girl stopped breathing – we can claim you were panicked and didn't know any better. Probably get three or four years for the drugs and carrying them across state lines but with luck we can get that to run concurrently. I'll keep on working your case with appeals and requests for clemency and pardon – hell with time off for good behavior you won't serve any more than
five years actual time – probably closer to four. The other thing you need to do is to convince them you've seen the 'error of your ways,' - meaning you ask them not to charge the Evans kid for beating you up – just tell them that you had it coming.”

“You're insane. I want that son of a bitch locked up...”

“No you don't kid. I said you don't have any street smarts and you don't. Even if both you and Evans are charged as adults – you'll be kept in a juvenile detention facility until you turn eighteen – that's the law. State of Colorado doesn't have but one juvenile detention facility. Are you really looking forward to meeting the Evans kid in the exercise yard?”

“He doesn't scare me. He got in one cheap shot when I wasn't expecting it and then took advantage of me when I was helpless,” said Drevins, but he knew that wasn't true. Evans scarfed the shit out of him – it was like he could feel the savagery coming at him when he looked in the kids eyes. Max Evans had wanted him dead – and he wanted to enjoy killing him slowly. Only the officer and his stun gun being there had somehow kept that from happening. Drevins fought back a shudder just thinking about it.

“Well, he ought to scare you,” said Bertram. “I have a copy of a telephone call between the officer that saved your life and a Deputy Sheriff down in Roswell. Max Evans killed the last guy who tried to rape Elizabeth Parker – pulled him over a cliff. I guess he was about ten or eleven years old then....”

Drevins looked at his face in the mirror. It was the girls fault – and Evans too. But the only way to get to her now was to hurt Max Evans. He damn sure wasn't going to ask the police not to press charges against the kid – but he had no intention of meeting him in some exercise yard some day either.

“I always leave myself an out, Mr. Bertram – always. It'll cost me some money and a distribution system put together with three years of hard work, but with your help I can salvage most of the proceeds of my labor and – if you can drive the right kind of bargain – I won't spend any time in prison. What I need you to do for me is to transfer most of the money from one offshore account to another.”

“And what do I get out of that?”

“Ten percent. Then you set up a meeting with a couple of people – the Colorado Attorney General and the local federal prosecutor – the one that's working with the joint drug task force. Then just let me do the talking. Both of those two are looking to move up – the AG is going to run for governor next year, and the federal prosecutor wants to become a federal judge. They both need a big win in the fight against drugs to establish their credentials – and for the right price I can give it to them.”

“.....and the right price would be...??”

“I get probation back in California …,” said Drevins, looking once more in the mirror and wincing as he touched his deformed nose, “... and they lock up the bastard who did this to me.” Drevins looked up at Bertram's eyes. “The bastard can have the exercise yard all to himself – I don't intend to be there.”

As Bertram left to make the calls, he looked again in the mirror. He wondered if just getting Max Evans locked up was really punishment enough for Liz Parker. Bertram would move most of the money out before the feds were given the account number – and money was power. Even from California he could hire someone to get his revenge on the little bitch. It was, after all, as much her fault as it was that of Max Evans.

11:50 AM Sunday
Boulder, Colorado

The warm water felt good as it trickled down Patty Holmes' neck as she luxuriated in the shower. It had been a wonderful fifteen hours. She had met Bryce Jones almost two years ago - when she'd taken her niece in to the emergency room with what had turned out to be appendicitis. He was a second year surgical resident - two years older than her - who worked about 120 of the 168 hours in a week.

That had somewhat limited their opportunities to date, but the young man had shared what little of his precious free time he had with her unstintingly. It's just that there was so little free time - once you included the fact he needed to sleep about 45 hours a week - that even though he gave her most of his free time it wasn't all that much. This 24 hour period he actually had off - a peculiarity of scheduling as he had moved from one surgical elective to another - and it wouldn't be repeated - perhaps for months.

Last night was actually the third time he'd slept over - the first time had scarcely counted. He'd come off a 36 hour shift of caring for trauma patients from a multiple car accident. He'd fallen asleep on the couch with his arms around her - and that had been how they had spent the night. Three weeks ago it had been more interesting - tentative explorations finally giving way to a passion that had surprised them both although neither had really been all that experienced. Last night though...

She guessed one of the advantages of dating a surgical resident was that the guy certainly knew his anatomy - as well as what stimulated what. The night had been ..... well awesome, both physically and emotionally - and even the telephone call this morning - interrupting some serious cuddling that looked like it was working towards an instant replay - had been professionally rewarding. Keeping that slimeball in jail had felt good - even if she had missed a morning of cuddling time with Bryce.

She had gotten back from court to find he had already pulled the sheets from the bed and had them in the laundry. They'd gone out for Starbucks coffee and shared a pumpkin scone for breakfast and - well one thing had just sort of happened after another. It had been a thoroughly wonderful fifteen hours, and she was unable to think of anything that could have made it better. That's when the phone rang.

"Dammit," she said, as she slid back the shower door and started to step out to reach for the cellphone on the bathroom counter. One foot raised - in midstep - the arm snaked it's way around her waist to pull her back into the shower against a warm and soapy body.

"Ignore it," said Bryce. "I'm sure it's a wrong number."

"Like you'd ignore it if it were your phone going off when you were on call", she said as she twisted around to face him - giving him a quick kiss before gently - but firmly - pushing out of his embrace to answer the phone. She was surprised to hear the voice of the clerk from the Superior Court.

"Miss Holmes, the judge requested your presence at a 12:30 hearing. He has been asked to rehear the writ of habeus corpus for the Drevins case."

"But that's insane. Why is he even going along with it?"

"I believe Chief Justice Willows requested he do so, Miss Holmes. The fact that the state attorney general and the federal prosecutor for Denver are requesting he do so may also have played into his thinking. He has asked that you be present to 'provide continuity.' I think by that he means the voice of someone who is more working prosecutor than politician."

"I'll be there - 1230 was it?"

"Yes, Miss - 12:30 sharp."

Patty put the phone back on the bathroom counter. "Dammit - this better not be what I think it is. I'm sorry Bryce - really I am. I know I promised you we'd have today - but this is really really important."

"Well, it's hardly like I don't inconvenience you with my schedule - I'll make you a deal. As long as you promise me that nothing will get in the way of our dinner at Carelli's tonight, I'll let you go now."

Carelli's was one of the best - and one of the priciest - restaurants in Boulder Colorado, and Patty knew it would put a dent in the salary of a resident physician who still had student loans to pay from his medical school days.

"Carelli's? That's not really necessary, you know. I could fix something for us here."

"Nope, Carelli's it is. We are going to celebrate."

"Celebrate what?"

"Our zeroth anniversary of our engagement, I hope," Bryce said, fumbling around in the pockets of the trousers laying on the bathroom counter and pulling out a small box. He opened it with a grin and got down on one knee. Patty looked down in stunned amazement at the most beautiful diamond ring she'd ever seen. He put it on her finger and she just stared at it for a moment - then looked in the mirror. What looked back at her was a naked and soapy Bryce on his knees before a reflection of Patty that was wearing nothing but a diamond ring and a huge smile.

"You can never - NEVER - tell our children about how you proposed to their mother," said Patty.

"I take it that's a yes?" asked Bryce.

Her lips met his and neither really said much. Eventually Patty nodded her head but by then Bryce had pretty much forgotten the question. She would make it to the hearing on time - very clean, dry, and appropriately attired - but it would be a close thing.

11 AM Arizona Time ( noon mountain time)
Phoenix Sky Harbor
Phoenix Arizona

Ned Harris walked in to dispatch and was immediately seen by the Chief Pilot of the Regional Airline - who motioned him in to his office.

"You are going to be flying with Joe Hendershott today. He's our newest hire at first officer and I'd like him to get the benefit of your experience. He does fine on the flying simulator and he checked out well on his orientation flight as far as actual aircraft control was concerned, but he seems to be a little weak on systems procedures. Judging from his logbook he should do fine - but this aircraft is by a considerable margin the biggest thing he's ever flown. Most of his multi-engine time is in Seminoles and other light stuff, but he does have a regional jet type-rating, so he should know all this stuff. I think it's just that so much is new to him in the Beech 1900 that he just plain gets confused with some of the ancillary stuff. If you can work with him it'd sure be a help."

"Sure.... sure, no problem." said Ned Harris.

The Chief Pilot watched as Ned went and introduced himself to the Hendershott kid. The regional airline was lucky to have Ned Hendershott, he thought. The guy had more actual flying time than any of them and had he not been furloughed by a large national airline almost five years ago there would have been no way he'd have been working for them. The real surprise, was that the man had never gone back to that airline. He'd asked Ned about it one time and Ned had told him that he actually liked the small regional carrier better and the ability to - usually - sleep in his own bed every night. He'd taken Ned's assertions at face value - had he known the truth he would have been considerably less happy to have Ned Harris working there. It was true that Ned Harris had been furloughed from a major airline but the other truth was that he'd not been asked to come back when the other furloughed pilots were rehired.

Three months before he was furloughed, Ned had gotten careless. Since 1991 all air transport pilots flying in interstate commerce in the US were required to be randomly drug-tested. Normally he just did his cocaine when he knew he would be off for long enough for the drug to clear of his body, but with the decline in flying that had finally led to the furloughs everyone had been pushed into more and more junior seniority slots. Ned had been on reserve the whole months - at risk to being pulled in at any time to fly a trip whenever another captain might be ill. He'd taken a risk by using - had the bad luck to be called in - and had the incredibly bad luck to then be randomly selected for testing. A week later he had gotten the call and then demanded - as was his right - for the other half of the sample to be sent to another lab. Then Ned had gotten lucky. Somewhere along the way the sample had gotten lost. Thanks to the US Post Office, it had never arrived. Chances were that - sitting in some dead-letter office somewhere - a rancid sample of Ned Harris' urine was stinking up the place - but that really didn't matter. It didn't matter because now it wouldn't be forensically adequate - but it didn't matter in yet another way as well.

All of the pilots furloughed with Ned had long-since been rehired. He had never gotten the call. The word had been passed by the HR directors of all the major airlines - heck, they got together every now and again socially for just such purposes. No, Ned was never going to fly for a big airline again - never get the big salary again. Still, there were ways to augment your salary - even flying a little regional airline like this. It was only fair, Ned thought. Drugs had taken away his larger salary - drugs could now supplement his lesser one. This would be such a trip. The small turboprop would fly to a half dozen cities today but it would end up in El Paso. That's where he would pick up the next shipment of cocaine from the cartel. As the captain of the aircraft, security would be the usual non-problem.

Superior Court, Boulder Colorado
12:28 Sunday Afternoon

Bertram shook his head as he saw the smile on Jimmy Drevins face - but he didn't say anything. He'd done his best to dissuade his client from this course of action - and his best just simply hadn't been good enough. Maybe the kid had an IQ like Einstein, but he had no street smarts whatsoever.

Bertram was realistic about his own career and the path it had taken. He had vices - and the worst among them had been impatience. Coming out of law school the world had been his oyster - and he'd let his need for instant economic success determine his future. That had its good points - he had made over $90,000 this morning for making three phone calls - but you sometimes had to associate with some scummy people. Most of Bertrams clients were scummy, and he was realistic enough to admit that he was even a little scummy himself. But that didn't make him the bottom-feeder in the legal universe - oh no. That particular position was reserved for the real shysters of the legal world - like the two men by Jimmy Drevins side. Lawyers who aspired to politics.

He'd tried to warn the kid - the kid hadn't listened. Even scummy lawyers like him had a certain morality - once bought they'd at least stay bought. Political types weren't like that. Sometimes they could be leased - but even that was iffy. These guys didn't care about Drevins - probably didn't even care about the deal Drevins was offering - except that they could use it to build their own careers. Drevins thought he had a deal with these two but he didn't. He had a deal - contingent on everything going right and no one raising a ruckus - and in Bertram's opinion the likelihood of that happening was small indeed - even if the kid hadn't made the second stupid decision.

You simply couldn't hold grudges in the business of making plea bargains when you obviously were in the wrong. If you did, it made it all the more likely you would have to do the very thing a plea bargain was designed to avoid - actually having to fight the fight in one court or another. But the kid was being petty which was stupid.

OK, so the Evans kid had broken his face - what did the asshole expect? Drevins had criminally assaulted the kids friend - the kids girlfriend if Bertram was any judge of things - even if the two teens still hadn't figured it out. The last guy to make such an attempt had died violently - Devins had just had his face rearranged a little. He should be grateful that he'd gotten by with as little damage as he had and content to let the Evans kid go back to New Mexico where - in all likelihood - he'd never see Drevins again for the rest of his life. But no, the stupid little twerp had made his deal to stay out of jail - which was sketchy enough in Bertram's opinion - contingent upon the Evans boy getting hammered by the state prosecutor - assuming that the man actually had the power to deliver that. Bertram knew better.

The US Justice Code - Bertram knew - leans over backward in favor of the defense. If the Evans kid had had a record it might have been different - but he hadn't. Worse yet, he was a lawyer's kid - in fact the kid of two lawyers, one of whom had been editor of the Law Review during her senior year at law school. Worse yet for Drevins' deal, the Evans kid's reputation was actually an ideal one from the standpoint of the defense. A shy kid with emotional problems - came from some sort of sordid childhood he could not even remember - and a local hero according to the phone call with that local deputy Sheriff - who had beaten up someone 20 pounds heavier and three years older after the guy had brutalized his girlfriend.... Hell, Bertram would have LOVED to have defended that case. He figured that even he could have probably gotten Max Evans off with no more than community service - at the worst probation - and he'd never had the sort of talent at law that the kids mother had - or even his father. Whatever promises the AG had made to Drevins, what actually would happen in a courtroom was likely to be altogether different.

The state AG's statement - that he'd 'do his best' to see that the kid got no real jail time - just public service and probation - was a politicians promise, no more and more less. If nobody made a fuss - the guy would probably actually do it. She wasn't a local girl and if they could actually get her out of the hospital and on the airplane home today they might actually pull it off. If this hearing worked - and they got the Drevins kid off to his Malibu plastic surgeon for his face repair - that was even likely. It wasn't like too many people would get involved if both the perp and the victim were already back home. But if anybody local made a serious objection locally, that bastard politician's promise wasn't worth spit. Less than that probably - you could at least lick a stamp with spit.

The deal with the Federal Prosecutor was similarly suspect. The guy obviously wanted to be a federal judge or maybe the US Attorney General someday and he'd promised the Drevins kid that if he cooperated fully he'd ask the judge for no more than a year in a minimum security facility in California - suspended. Whether he'd actually go through with that or not would - of course - depend on the same thing as with the AG - whether they could keep this sweetheart deal for Drevins under the radar of anyone who would actually give a shit.

No, Bertram wasn't the most honorable guy - he'd be the first to admit it - but he was honorable enough to tell the kid that this whole deal was hanging by a thread and he'd actually done that. Drevins had laughed at him. He had been a defense lawyer dealing with plea bargains for a quarter of a century - nine years longer than the little fart had been alive - and the kid had laughed at him and told him to just shut up and watch him handle this. So as Bertram watched Patty Holmes enter the courtroom with Jim Blair at her side - the young lady's face a little flushed - and her right hand nervously fingering a new engagement ring - as he realized the young lady wasn't going to let this day of all her days be spoiled for her by seeing scum like the Drevins kid walk - he sat in his chair and smiled. 'This,' he thought, '.... might turn out to be a fun day after all....


12 Noon Arizona Time ( noon mountain time)
Phoenix Sky Harbor
Phoenix Arizona

First Officer Joe Hendershott struggled to figure out the weight and balance on the Beech 1900 – knowing it was taking him too long, but not knowing enough to do anything about it. If he’d been familiar with the manual of the aircraft there was a chart in the back that would have given him an approximate answer fairly quickly, but then there was a computer program on the dispatch computer that he could have plugged the figures into that would have given him even more accurate results in just a few seconds. Of course, even that wasn’t really necessary, because the dispatcher had already used that computer program and the result was printed out on the paperwork he was holding in his hand – about three pages down below the takeoff and landing data card. Joe Hendershott didn’t know that though – in fact Joe Hendershott didn’t know a lot of things. One of the reasons for that had to do with how airlines got their pilots.

The first aircraft flight was in 1903 at Kitty Hawk North Carolina. During the next decade aircraft were – except for their military use as scouts – a simple curiosity. They were exceedingly rare. That changed in the first World War. During the relatively short period that the US fought in that war, almost a thousand Americans learned how to fly in the US Air Service, the Lafayette Escadrille, and other allied units. These men served as the nucleus for all the early flying activity including the US Air Mail Service. By WWII these men were in their forties and in that epic struggle led and trained thousands of others – 75,000 US pilots a year toward the end of WWII. And in the post-war era when commercial airline service began, it was largely these pilots who had been trained in the military that flew the airliners.

By the mid 1960s the military had another surge of training – this one linked to an unpopular war in what had once been called French-Indochina. An attempt by the young US President to use the US CIA to depose the existing government of Vietnam went horribly wrong and Ngo Dinh Diem was assassinated. At that point South Vietnam was likely damaged beyond recovery politically. Three weeks later Kennedy himself died and his replacement swore that he ‘was not going to be the first American President to lose a war’. Pilots were churned out by the thousands in an ultimately futile attempt to make good on that assertion.

By the end of the Vietnam War commercial cockpits were almost exclusively crewed by ex-military pilots who had received their training through the military, and commercial aviation had them in abundance. Each had received over 250 hours (and a million dollars worth) of jet training before they even received their wings, and had received thousand of hours of experience at government expense before they became available for hire. The airlines knew a good deal when they saw it. The problem was that this pipeline had largely been shut off in the mid 1970s.

Eventually even the military realized that it was cheaper to retain a pilot than to spend a million dollars to teach a new one and even millions more giving them the flight time to get them experienced. The flow of young military pilots to the airlines slowed to a trickle – not a problem at first really – the backlog of Vietnam era pilots was still large – but as those people who were in their twenties in the 1960 and 1970s got older they ran into the mandatory retirement age of 65 and that’s when all hell started to break lose.

Due to the historic availability of military pilots there was never a real good mechanism to train civilian pilots up to airline standards. Some would make it of course - getting their private and commercial and multi-engine licenses o their own at considerable expense, but most of these went to the smaller regional airlines and spent their entire careers there. But with the retirement of the Vietnam era pilots in the big airlines the experienced pilots in the small regional airlines were hired to replace them. The experienced first officers – copilots – themselves became Captains – and the right seats were filled with a new crop of inexperienced pilots – little more than trainees – that were Joe Hendershott’s peers – except of course, he wasn’t really their peer.

The small regional airlines were getting pretty desperate – many would accept anyone with a bare commercial pilot certificate and a whole 350 hours of flying time. This airline required a little more – 500 hours.

But Joe Hendershott didn’t have that – not really. He had logbooks that demonstrated he did – almost a thousand hours in fact – but that wasn't the reality. Joe Hendershott had a bare commercial certificate but even that was a work of fiction – because he’d faked the 350 hour requirement even for that. You see, after you get your private license at about 45 hours, only the additional instruction for your commercial rating is verified by an instructor. Most of it they take your word for – or at least accept your logbook as true.

It was little wonder Joe Hendershott was having troubles. He actually only had a little less than two hundred hours total time – and that usually in aircraft of less than 200 horsepower holding no more than four people. The other hours in his logbook were all a work of fiction. He’d actually flown those flights only on a Microsoft Flight Simulator on his home computer.

Judge Randolph Perkins tried his best to be objective – but the fact was that he kind of liked Assistant Deputy Prosecutor Patty Holmes, and in contrast his private opinion of Lance Bertram III, attorney at law, was likely a little harsher than that of his court clerk



“All rise!” said the court clerk.

“Please be seated,” said Judge Randolph Perkins. “I actually thought that we had settled this issue this morning but apparently not. Mr. Bertram, do you have additional information or evidence to present?”

Lance Bertram rose to his feet, but before he could open his mouth the Colorado State Attorney General spoke up. “Judge Perkins, I am Mr. Ralph Sorensen, Attorney General for the State of Colorado...”

“I am familiar with who you are, Mr. Sorensen, what I am uncertain about is just what you are doing interjecting yourself into this case and in particular speaking when I am addressing a question to Mr. Bertram.?”

“Excuse me judge, but this is a matter of overriding concern to the public. Mr. Reynolds, the Federal Prosecutor from Denver and I are part of a joint state-federal task force on the illicit drug industry...”

In the corner Detective Hofstra and Agent Anderson looked at each other and rolled their eyes skyward. Neither of these Bozos had given the task force any noticeable support since its inception while it was doing the hard job of investigating. But once they had been tipped off by the kids lawyer that he wanted to cut a deal, they'd jumped in and started ordering people around and acting like they'd been involved from the start - almost as if either of them actually gave a damn about anything but the publicity they would get for being part of a successful operation. First thing they'd done was to closet themselves with the kid and his lawyer in the kids hospital room – the next thing they had done was give orders to spring the kid from the jail ward and personally escort him down to the courthouse.
Contrary to good police practice, they'd even been ordered not to cuff the kid. Worse yet, on the trip down the kid had been bragging to them about how he was going to walk from this rap and there was nothing either of them could do about it. Anderson had damn near had to restrain Hofstra from punching the kid in the face. Hofstra had griped to him that the kid's face was already smashed up – no one would have ever been able to prove anything – and it wasn't that Anderson hadn't been tempted either, it was just that the older Narcotics detective had enough years to retire and as of yet Anderson was nowhere close to that.

“Yes, your honor,” interrupted the other prima dona in the room, Richard Reynolds, the Federal Prosecutor for the Colorado Region, “... this actually is a matter of considerable importance and – well, urgency I guess you'd say, for the People.”

Judge Perkins tried not to wince visibly. He hated it when arrogant lawyer-politicians spoke about 'the People,' - you could practically hear them capitalizing the 'P'.

“And what precisely are 'the People' asking for in this case, Mr. Prosecutor, and I remind you that this is a state – not a federal – court.”

“Actually, this is a joint request, your honor,” interrupted Attorney General Sorensen, “... the defendant here – Mr Drevins has vital information that he has agreed to give us as part of a plea bargain. As a demonstration of good faith, we are here to intercede on his behalf. We would like you to act favorably on the writ if habeus corpus previously filed so that Mr. Drevins can return home to get the treatment he so urgently requires – where he has agreed to provide us with information that will identify no less than 141drug pushers in a four state area. Many of these pushers buy drugs from a number of different distributors. It is our belief that by apprehending them we can get a fair number to identify their sources for cocaine – meth – heroin, and other drugs. In return for his cooperation in this regard, we will also intercede at his trial to request leniency. After all, he is ready to provide the People with very valuable information that will allow us to markedly disrupt the sale of illicit drugs over a four state area.”

“And what about what he did to Liz Parker, Mr Sorensen?” said Patty Holmes. Judge Perkins looked down at her and shook his head gently.

“Miss Holmes – I am entirely capable of asking questions in my own court.”

Patty blushed. “Yes your honor.”

Perkins turned back to the Attorney General and continued, “And what about what he did to Liz Parker, Mr Sorensen?”

“Why your honor, my understanding is that the young lady suffered no real injury – although she was drugged, nothing really happened.”

“She damn near died...,” said Patty, causing Judge Perkins to look over his granny glasses at her. “Sorry, your honor...,” she said quickly.

“It would be difficult to hold you in contempt of court, Miss Holmes, when you seem to be reading my mind. I have to agree – Liz Parker almost died.”

“If I may interrupt, your honor...”said Prosecutor Reynolds.

“It would appear you already have,” said Perkins, “...but say whatever it is you have to say quickly please.”

“It is undeniable that this young man made some serious mistakes – both in possessing and in traveling in interstate commerce with an illicit drug. Exactly what happened in that room – well only Mr. Drevins really knows how much of what happened was an assault and how much was consensual...”

“Consensual...” screamed Patty, “...he paid for a room, paid to get mixer and salt that would disguise the taste of the drug - drugged her – and had her half undressed when the fire alarm rang – then ran off when she was impaired to such a degree she couldn't even breathe unassisted – much less have the capacity to consent. I will have no problem convicting him on at least three counts...”

“Yes you will, Miss Reynolds,” said Attorney General Sorensen. “.... because this case is being taken out of your hands...”

“Taken out of my hands...?” said Patty, in disbelief.

“Yes, taken out of your hands. I'll handle this case personally. What I want you to do is to devote full time to prosecuting the person who did this to Mr. Drevins. Whatever the Evans boy believes went on in that room, the People simply cannot permit vigilante justice in this state. Your job is to see that this Maxwell Evans is prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law – for initiating a false fire alarm - resisting arrest – escape from custody and most certainly felonious assault. The People must be protected from monsters like that young man. I want him locked up for a long long time.”

“Well that,” said Officer Jim Blair,”...just ain't gonna happen.”

Judge Perkins just shook his head. “Well, since it appears I have totally lost control of this court, why don't you just have your say too, Officer Blair.”