Blake’s seizure of Lynx is illegal.
Once the bell chimes I am forcibly pushed forward, facing the back of the elevator. One officer faces me, the other faces forward to stop anyone from coming in as we make our way down to the waiting squad car.
Approaching the car, I think about how many times as a reporter I’ve seen people loaded into the back of these boxy caged vehicles, and how different it feels when it’s your head he pushes down as he puts you in the back of the car.
Turning to the one holding my arms, I try to see his watch but can’t make the numbers out.
“Can you tell me what time it is, please?” I ask. I have to sign those forms at one o’clock. I hope that’s enough time for me to call Paul’s office and get out of holding.
“Why? Got a date?” He snickers as his hand goes instinctively to my shoulder to lower me into the back. “Watch your head, ma’am.”
“I didn’t violate any orders,” I say as soon as they get in and close their doors. “He invited me. He said he wanted to meet with me. So we could…well…so we could talk. You don’t understand, he asked me to come to Sandstone. I’m innocent.”
“That’s not our job to determine, Ma’am.” The driver says as he pulls away from the curb. “It’s just our job to take you in.”
“Look, this is a mistake. I mean, I’m sure Blake reported I was there last night, because I was there. But I was only there to get evidence that he stole my company. He asked me to meet him because he thought he could, well, um, he wanted to take advantage of me...er…of my situation. Anyway, I swear to you I did not go there on my own and I don’t have contempt for any court.”
“Ma’am,” The policeman in the passenger seat says with his jaw locked and a stiff tone. “I am not a judge and he is not a jury. Save it for court, ‘cause we don’t care.”
I settle as much as I can against the back seat, feeling the bitter tears of anger and frustration fall down my cheeks. How does Blake do it? Every time it seems like I’m going to get my life back, or that we are going to finally outsmart him, he just pulls another ace out of his pocket. The officer must have realized he was a ruder than necessary because he turns to me and speaks almost gently.
“In case you were still wondering, Ma’am. The time is eleven A.M.”
“Thank you,” I reply, wiping my tears on my shoulder. I start doing the math in my head. If Mark and Paul Fries can get the paperwork together, and I can get someone from Paul’s office to come bail me out quickly, I can still make the courthouse by one to sign everything. I just need to get that phone call as soon as I can, and hope when Mark calls Paul he will have them set up and ready to answer my phone. My body starts swaying with excitement and false hope.
“Well, that perked you up,” the officer says with a smile and turns back around.
“I have a very important appointment this afternoon,” I try to explain. “If I can get my phone call from holding pretty quickly, I can make bail in time to get there.”
It dawns on me I’m starting to sound like some ex-con from the movie speaking in jail vernacular and displaying my inherent knowledge of the system. If I don’t stop getting arrested soon I’m going to be known as “Jailhouse Julia.” The thought makes me giggle a bit, until the informative officer brings all my joy to a stop.
“You won’t be getting bail, Ma’am. You’ll go from holding straight to your arraignment in court.”
“What? How long will that take?”
“Depends on the judge’s schedule. If it’s a light day – maybe six or seven hours. If it’s heavy you’ll probably be held over for night court. But don’t worry. Those dockets go fast. If you get bail, you could be out by about three or four tomorrow morning.”
“Unless Katie’s on leave. She’s the only bursar who stays
Once the bell chimes I am forcibly pushed forward, facing the back of the elevator. One officer faces me, the other faces forward to stop anyone from coming in as we make our way down to the waiting squad car.
Approaching the car, I think about how many times as a reporter I’ve seen people loaded into the back of these boxy caged vehicles, and how different it feels when it’s your head he pushes down as he puts you in the back of the car.
Turning to the one holding my arms, I try to see his watch but can’t make the numbers out.
“Can you tell me what time it is, please?” I ask. I have to sign those forms at one o’clock. I hope that’s enough time for me to call Paul’s office and get out of holding.
“Why? Got a date?” He snickers as his hand goes instinctively to my shoulder to lower me into the back. “Watch your head, ma’am.”
“I didn’t violate any orders,” I say as soon as they get in and close their doors. “He invited me. He said he wanted to meet with me. So we could…well…so we could talk. You don’t understand, he asked me to come to Sandstone. I’m innocent.”
“That’s not our job to determine, Ma’am.” The driver says as he pulls away from the curb. “It’s just our job to take you in.”
“Look, this is a mistake. I mean, I’m sure Blake reported I was there last night, because I was there. But I was only there to get evidence that he stole my company. He asked me to meet him because he thought he could, well, um, he wanted to take advantage of me...er…of my situation. Anyway, I swear to you I did not go there on my own and I don’t have contempt for any court.”
“Ma’am,” The policeman in the passenger seat says with his jaw locked and a stiff tone. “I am not a judge and he is not a jury. Save it for court, ‘cause we don’t care.”
I settle as much as I can against the back seat, feeling the bitter tears of anger and frustration fall down my cheeks. How does Blake do it? Every time it seems like I’m going to get my life back, or that we are going to finally outsmart him, he just pulls another ace out of his pocket. The officer must have realized he was a ruder than necessary because he turns to me and speaks almost gently.
“In case you were still wondering, Ma’am. The time is eleven A.M.”
“Thank you,” I reply, wiping my tears on my shoulder. I start doing the math in my head. If Mark and Paul Fries can get the paperwork together, and I can get someone from Paul’s office to come bail me out quickly, I can still make the courthouse by one to sign everything. I just need to get that phone call as soon as I can, and hope when Mark calls Paul he will have them set up and ready to answer my phone. My body starts swaying with excitement and false hope.
“Well, that perked you up,” the officer says with a smile and turns back around.
“I have a very important appointment this afternoon,” I try to explain. “If I can get my phone call from holding pretty quickly, I can make bail in time to get there.”
It dawns on me I’m starting to sound like some ex-con from the movie speaking in jail vernacular and displaying my inherent knowledge of the system. If I don’t stop getting arrested soon I’m going to be known as “Jailhouse Julia.” The thought makes me giggle a bit, until the informative officer brings all my joy to a stop.
“You won’t be getting bail, Ma’am. You’ll go from holding straight to your arraignment in court.”
“What? How long will that take?”
“Depends on the judge’s schedule. If it’s a light day – maybe six or seven hours. If it’s heavy you’ll probably be held over for night court. But don’t worry. Those dockets go fast. If you get bail, you could be out by about three or four tomorrow morning.”
“Unless Katie’s on leave. She’s the only bursar who stays
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