then laughed dryly. “‘Spect they’d just soon
not have me around much. But I’d kinda like to be there . . . you don’t mind.”
“Don’t worry,” she worked her knuckles and answered firmly.
“I’m not saying anything to them without you being there . . . you’re the only
one who really cares about us, it seems to me. I made that clear to that
younger one, that Walker, on one of his calls.”
*** *** *** ***
Mary and Brian were walking toward the bus stop the next
morning when the desk clerk stepped out from the lobby door waving an envelope.
Mary returned the wave but waited to pick it up until after he was off to
school. Back in the room she recognized the computer-generated label and the
absence of a zip code or return address. Mrs. Beatrice Plummer, Knight’s
Inn, Room # 78. She tore it open and read it alone in the room. It was
printed on plain stationery without a letterhead.
Dear Federal Witness:
Per your request the agency will coordinate a meeting
between the responsible assigned agents and you within the next seven business
days. Although the Bureau considers it inadvisable and unnecessary, it will
honor your request that Detective Sherry of the New Orleans Police Department,
Homicide Division, be permitted to be present.
Enclosed you will find a brochure offering an overview of
the program. Please review it and return it to us at the meeting noted above. Do
not copy any portion or discuss it with any person other than official
designees of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The undersigned and Agent
Clay Mark Walker #17243 are the agents assigned. Agent Walker will
communicate the time and place of the meeting you requested.
In closing, I remind you, again, you are not to discuss
any aspect of this with any other person , in the interest of the
integrity of the program and the safety of you and your family.
Sincerely,
/s/ Armand H. Ruggle, #8742
Special Assignment
Southern Tier Strike Force
cc: US Attorney Assigned, #2579
STDot.com 743.6
She sat at the little round table, its surface illuminated
by a yellow-white circle from the lamp hanging from the textured ceiling. Program? The four-page brochure was titled: You and the Witness Security Program, Authorization
under Title V, Organized Crime Control Act of 1970. She read through it
twice, eyes wide at first, then blinking and damp. Shallow breath came in
gasps, her skin tingled and her heart pounded in her ears and throat, her eyes
narrowed miserably as she read through it a third time, seizing on every word.
“I need to speak to Detective Larry Sherry . . . in
homicide. Yes, Sherry. Please . . . as soon as you can get him the message.”
She spoke tonelessly into the phone, the papers spread out over Brian’s
bedspread. “Yes, yes. It’s an emergency. Tell him to call Mary as soon as
possible.” She waited staring into space, knees drawn tight together, one hand
stroked through her hair, its fingers spread listlessly apart. “Yes. Just tell
him Mary. He’llknow.”
*** *** *** ***
He was sitting at a booth in the back, hat resting next to
him, a brown coffee pot and two mugs the only things on the table. At
ten-thirty, they were the only customers in Shoney’s nonsmoking section.
He looked like a father greeting his grown daughter for breakfast when he saw
her, the initial beam dropped to a frown when he saw her face. “What’s the
trouble, Hon?”
“Look at this, Sherry!” She threw the envelope on the table
and collapsed into the other side of the booth.
His face was blank as he read, first reviewing the letter,
then thumbing disinterestedly through the pamphlet. He picked the letter back
up and scrutinized it for another moment, then laid it back down and twisted
his face to look into hers. “So . . . what’s the problem?”
“I never agreed to enter any . . . any . . . program! Shit! Excuse me but who do they think they are?” Her
not have me around much. But I’d kinda like to be there . . . you don’t mind.”
“Don’t worry,” she worked her knuckles and answered firmly.
“I’m not saying anything to them without you being there . . . you’re the only
one who really cares about us, it seems to me. I made that clear to that
younger one, that Walker, on one of his calls.”
*** *** *** ***
Mary and Brian were walking toward the bus stop the next
morning when the desk clerk stepped out from the lobby door waving an envelope.
Mary returned the wave but waited to pick it up until after he was off to
school. Back in the room she recognized the computer-generated label and the
absence of a zip code or return address. Mrs. Beatrice Plummer, Knight’s
Inn, Room # 78. She tore it open and read it alone in the room. It was
printed on plain stationery without a letterhead.
Dear Federal Witness:
Per your request the agency will coordinate a meeting
between the responsible assigned agents and you within the next seven business
days. Although the Bureau considers it inadvisable and unnecessary, it will
honor your request that Detective Sherry of the New Orleans Police Department,
Homicide Division, be permitted to be present.
Enclosed you will find a brochure offering an overview of
the program. Please review it and return it to us at the meeting noted above. Do
not copy any portion or discuss it with any person other than official
designees of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The undersigned and Agent
Clay Mark Walker #17243 are the agents assigned. Agent Walker will
communicate the time and place of the meeting you requested.
In closing, I remind you, again, you are not to discuss
any aspect of this with any other person , in the interest of the
integrity of the program and the safety of you and your family.
Sincerely,
/s/ Armand H. Ruggle, #8742
Special Assignment
Southern Tier Strike Force
cc: US Attorney Assigned, #2579
STDot.com 743.6
She sat at the little round table, its surface illuminated
by a yellow-white circle from the lamp hanging from the textured ceiling. Program? The four-page brochure was titled: You and the Witness Security Program, Authorization
under Title V, Organized Crime Control Act of 1970. She read through it
twice, eyes wide at first, then blinking and damp. Shallow breath came in
gasps, her skin tingled and her heart pounded in her ears and throat, her eyes
narrowed miserably as she read through it a third time, seizing on every word.
“I need to speak to Detective Larry Sherry . . . in
homicide. Yes, Sherry. Please . . . as soon as you can get him the message.”
She spoke tonelessly into the phone, the papers spread out over Brian’s
bedspread. “Yes, yes. It’s an emergency. Tell him to call Mary as soon as
possible.” She waited staring into space, knees drawn tight together, one hand
stroked through her hair, its fingers spread listlessly apart. “Yes. Just tell
him Mary. He’llknow.”
*** *** *** ***
He was sitting at a booth in the back, hat resting next to
him, a brown coffee pot and two mugs the only things on the table. At
ten-thirty, they were the only customers in Shoney’s nonsmoking section.
He looked like a father greeting his grown daughter for breakfast when he saw
her, the initial beam dropped to a frown when he saw her face. “What’s the
trouble, Hon?”
“Look at this, Sherry!” She threw the envelope on the table
and collapsed into the other side of the booth.
His face was blank as he read, first reviewing the letter,
then thumbing disinterestedly through the pamphlet. He picked the letter back
up and scrutinized it for another moment, then laid it back down and twisted
his face to look into hers. “So . . . what’s the problem?”
“I never agreed to enter any . . . any . . . program! Shit! Excuse me but who do they think they are?” Her
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