Ginger snaps, p.10
Ginger Snaps, page 10
tion and took whatever was offered. Since we couldn’t talk to either
Dub or our client, we didn’t have this option.
Micki warned liz that that the eyes of the judge, the prosecutors,
and the press would be focused on her as well as on Doug and that
she should dress carefully for the part. Moira would sit beside her,
sans weaponry. Dub had been drumming up press all weekend, so the
courtroom would be packed. It would also be full of Doug’s students
and colleagues. I expected nothing less than a circus.
The last thing on tonight’s agenda was for Micki to go over what to
expect at a bond hearing. Micki figured Dub would try to punish the
Stewarts by arguing for a large bond. If a defendant doesn’t have the
money to post bond on his own, he has to purchase a bond that can
cost up to ten percent of the bond’s face amount. A million dollar bond
could cost the Stewarts one hundred thousand dollars, money they’d
never get back. Fortunately, liz had liquid assets in her own right, and
her sizable trust meant she probably wouldn’t have to go through a
bondsman. The downside was that Dub was likely to use liz’s wealth as
a reason to ask for an even higher bond, arguing that liz had plenty
of money to help Doug flee the country. Prosecutors love to put defen-
dants and their families between a rock and a hard place.
After Micki finished, Moira asked, “Is there any possibility they won’t
produce Dr. Stewart tomorrow? If he’s in oklahoma City tonight, can
they get him back in time?”
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liz looked at me, chewing on her bottom lip. “Can that happen?”
Micki answered, “Well, liz, they can’t have an arraignment without
him. He still has some constitutional rights. I’ve already prepared a
habeas if they try another trick like they did today. Frankly, I don’t
think he’s in oklahoma at all. Dub’s just jacking us around.”
What could Dub have up his sleeve?
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MoNdAy
April 21, 2014
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16
D
I spent a restless night constantly checking the bedside clock, willing
its digits to change. Just before seven, I finally put on jeans and went
downstairs for breakfast, gathering the Democrat from the pile on the
front desk. egg yolk or pancake syrup invariably makes their mark on
my shirtfront, so I try not to wear courtroom clothes to breakfast. Sure
enough, the arraignment had made page one, all but repeating Dub’s
press release.
I had just ordered when Clovis sat down, bearing both a large
plate of biscuits and gravy from the buffet and the printed e-mails
Maggie had sent. Between bites he briefed me on the logistics for
the morning. liz and Moira would ride with us; we’d meet Micki in
the courtroom. The deputy marshal in Dub’s office had told him we
couldn’t see Doug until he was brought into the courtroom. What was
the point? Why deny me access to my client? I knew Micki planned to file
a protest with the judge, but I expected a less-than-sympathetic ear.
Plates clean, we finished our coffee and walked into the lobby just
as liz and Moira stepped out of the elevator. I was relieved to see liz
dressed very conservatively in a grey suit and fairly low heels. She had
her hair pulled back with a scarf at the nape of her neck. Gone were
her Rolex watch, her large aquamarine ring, and her showy diamond
engagement ring. She wore only her gold wedding band and small
pearl earrings. She gave a little twirl and said, “All ready for court,
counsel.”
“Perfect, absolutely perfect,” I responded. She looked genuinely
pleased, and again I wondered what made her tick.
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on the way to the courthouse, I learned that Moira had set up a
chair outside liz’s room for the night, but liz would have none of it.
She insisted that Moira sleep in the other bed, and they had stayed up
late talking. liz needed a friend right now, someone to talk to besides
her lawyers. Families of the accused have a rough time. They’re in a
sort of limbo, no one’s responsibility. Frequently, even when the law-
yers win, the process itself causes permanent psychological damage to
the family.
We arrived at the courthouse as Micki was stepping out of her car,
Paul in watchful tow. Together we ran the gauntlet of the ravenous
press and courtroom security. The sterile courtroom looked like most
every other federal courtroom across the country: a large room with a
judge’s bench, seats for a jury, and two large tables, one for the defen-
dant and one for the prosecution. Seating behind the rail allowed for
about fifty spectators, if that.
liz sat with Moira in the first row, which Maroney had reserved
for family. They looked pretty lonely. Micki went back to the judge’s
chambers to tell his clerk we were there, and Clovis left to ask the mar-
shals if we could meet with Doug for a few minutes. The press traipsed
in, followed by a clearly frustrated Clovis.
“The deputy marshal was a real jerk, gave me the usual line: the
prisoner is unavailable, and if we have a problem we should take it up
with Dub. of course, Dub is meeting with his ‘people’ and can’t be
disturbed.”
“Why am I not surprised? Did he at least say Doug is here? Could
you see Doug in the holding cell?” I asked.
“They wouldn’t let me anywhere near the holding cell. I asked him
specifically if Doug was here. He didn’t even blink, and said ‘All ques-
tions should be addressed to Mr. Blanchard.’”
Micki had returned in time for his last comments. I looked at her,
silently willing her not to erupt. For the time being, she kept her cool.
The judge’s clerks, court reporter, and bailiff filed into the court-
room, but still no Dub. As the clock hit nine o’clock the courtroom
door opened with a flourish. In walked U.S. Attorney Dub Blanchard,
a man of middling height, thinning hair that fell short of a high
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forehead, and a toothy grin. He wasn’t actually fat—my daughter Beth
had once called him the “Pillsbury Doughboy.” He was followed by an
army of assistants who took up the entire prosecution table and most
of the row just behind the rail. They lugged in what looked to me like
a lot of files for an arraignment. Dub strolled around the courtroom
smiling and shaking hands. He finally glanced our way, turned his
back, and joined his assistants.
As soon as the courtroom calmed down we heard, “All rise.”
A fully-robed Judge Wade Houston entered the courtroom. He
stood a little less than six feet tall, had a jutting jaw, and brown hair
that looked like it had been razor cut, styled, and sprayed in place
only moments earlier. Without a smile or a word to anyone, he sat down
and frowned heavily.
“We are here in the matter of the United States versus Douglas
Stewart. Who represents the United States?” His tone made clear that
he thought this proceeding was a huge pain in the ass.
Dub jumped up. “I do, your Honor. Wilbur Blanchard, your Honor.”
He began to introduce his staff, but the judge waved him back down.
“Who appears for the defendant?” Judge Houston asked.
Micki rose and said, “Micki lawrence and Jack Patterson, your
Honor.” I stood up.
Before Houston could say a word, Dub stood, paused gravely, and
said, “Your Honor, before the court allows Mr. Patterson to enter his
appearance, the United States would like to be heard. We object to
his appearance and request that the court reserve any ruling on our
objection until it can be thoroughly researched and briefed.”
Oh, good grief. Dub really didn’t like me, nor I him, but this was
ridiculous.
The judge looked puzzled. I remained standing.
“Your Honor, I am aware that Mr. Patterson is a licensed lawyer in
the District of Columbia, but the United States sees no reason why this
court should allow a lawyer, not licensed in this state and not admitted
to this court, to appear before his qualifications, integrity, and motives
have been scrutinized. Ms. lawrence can handle the matter before the
court. She doesn’t need some DC lawyer who’s looking for publicity. To
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our knowledge, no motion has been filed requesting he be admitted by
reciprocity and, when it is, it should be briefed. Might I suggest that if
Mr. Patterson persists we delay this matter until the court sets a briefing
schedule on this issue? The United States would need at least thirty days
to respond to any motion for admission once it is filed.”
Dub had played his first card. He wanted to delay my representing
Doug for as long as possible, probably until the case was over. He was
playing hardball. Fortunately, I knew how to play this game quite well.
“Your Honor, may I speak?” I said in my most respectful tone. The
judge nodded. I didn’t give Dub a chance to object.
“Mr. Blanchard remembers a time last year when I appeared in
Circuit Judge Fitzgerald’s court and had not yet been admitted to
this state’s bar. In that case, I had to enter my appearance by way
of a motion supported by both my co-counsel and the prosecutor.
Since that time, however, I have been admitted to this state’s bar.
My bar number is 2013-73. I have also been admitted as a lawyer in
good standing in this federal district and in this circuit. I believe
the respective clerks will verify that my dues are current. If the
court will allow me to approach the bench, I have copies of those
licenses. I apologize for not providing these to Mr. Blanchard prior
to this hearing, but I had no reason to believe he would be so poorly
advised.”
After last year, I’d applied to be admitted on the off-chance Micki
and I might handle another case together. Dub turned bright red and
threw the papers I handed him at one of his assistants.
The judge took over. His face reflected his displeasure with both
of us.
“okay, that’s settled. let’s get on to the business at hand. Bailiff,
bring the defendant into the courtroom.”
I sat down. Still no sign of Doug.
Dub, still standing, took a deep breath, almost busting his shirt but-
tons. “Your Honor, the defendant is not available.”
I knew it. I knew it.
Micki was on her feet. The judge’s gavel failed to quiet the gallery.
It took a moment to restore order. Finally, he said, “Sit down, Ms.
lawrence. You’ll get your turn. Counsel, I hope you can explain.”
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Still miffed by my presence, Dub smirked at Micki, then turned
to the judge. “Your Honor, as there are members of the press in the
courtroom, I want to be careful what I say.” Dub knew exactly how
to get the media’s full attention. “The defendant was in custody at
the local jail, but was involved in an altercation Saturday evening that
necessitated moving him to a more secure environment.”
Micki shoved her chair back, but Judge Houston stopped her with
a glare.
“That’s all well and good, Mr. Blanchard, but why, pray tell, isn’t he
in my courtroom today? Where is he?” His scowl took in all of us, as
though we were somehow in cahoots.
All eyes focused on him, Dub looked around and paused. I had to
admit he had some natural acting ability.
“Because of certain facts which might jeopardize this case and even
our national security, I cannot disclose his location in open court.” I
so wanted to wipe that smirk off his puffy face.
The courtroom exploded. Judge Houston let the crowd work off its
surprise for a moment before gaveling them into silence. I kept my
hand firmly on Micki’s bouncing knee to keep her in her seat. Dub
waited until the gallery had calmed down.
“Your Honor, the United States has filed its pleadings under seal to
begin a process that is consistent with the national security interests
of the United States. Your Honor has the requisite security clearances
to review the pleadings. After you review them you’ll understand why
we’re compelled to be so circumspect. I apologize for inconveniencing
the court, but you will soon understand the need for secrecy.”
Holy shit. We had gone from ginger snaps and marijuana to a full-
scale national security alert. Judge Houston didn’t blink an eye. He
had probably been briefed in chambers and was ready for Dub’s
histrionics.
“Well, in that case, Mr. Blanchard, it appears there is nothing left
for me to do today.” The judge raised his gavel.
I removed my hand from her knee, and Micki shot up. “Your Honor.
May I be heard, please?”
“of course, Ms. lawrence, but I’m not sure what, if anything can be
done. The United States has taken Dr. Stewart into custody. They are
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holding him at an unidentified location as a national security risk and
have filed motions under seal. What do you expect me to do before I
read what they’ve filed?”
“Your Honor, we wish to file a habeas motion immediately. Dr.
Stewart is a U.S. citizen and has certain rights. He is hardly a threat to
national security,” she said flatly.
“I’ll consider your motion and the government’s response and rule
on it expeditiously. I’m not known for sitting on my hands.” His face
and voice were stone cold.
Micki replied, “of course, Your Honor. But this case began as a simple
drug case, and now Mr. Blanchard tells us it’s a matter of national secu-
rity. We’ve had no access to our client or to whatever has been filed
under seal. Can we at least see what is so secret? I’ll agree to any type of
protective order the government wants, but I can’t defend my client if I
don’t even know the charges. Surely I should be allowed to meet him.”
The judge looked at Dub, “Well, Counsel?”
“I realize that Ms. lawrence is frustrated, but this matter calls for
specific procedures. other federal courts have approved these proce-
dures to protect the nation’s interest. Among other things, the defen-
dant’s counsel will need to undergo a background check to receive
a security clearance before she can have access to her client or what
we have filed. She will have every opportunity to seek a security clear-
ance, but until she does she can’t see either her client or what we have
filed.”
“You’re denying a U.S. citizen the right to counsel and the knowl-
edge of the charges brought against him? Has the Constitution been
torn to shreds?” Micki blew a gasket.
“enough, Ms. lawrence. This court is familiar with the proce-
dures that have been approved in other jurisdictions. I’ve attended
a training session at the administrative office of the U.S. Courts on
this very issue. I’ll read what’s been filed and rule expeditiously. Mr.
Blanchard is not out of line so far. I assure you that this matter will not
sit on the corner of my desk. Is there anything else?”
I waited while Micki sat down, shuffling papers to cover her frus-
tration.
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“Your Honor, may I offer a suggestion?” I stood up.
“Mr. Patterson.”
“I’m not privy to what Mr. Blanchard has filed, but he has just made
it clear that defense counsel will be subjected to a thorough back-
ground check in order to receive a security clearance before we can
proceed.”
The judge said. “That’s my understanding as well, Counsel.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. In that case, I ask you to grant us imme-
diate access to both our client and what has been filed. Ms. lawrence
