“Bella,” said Deke. “I like it.” “According to Bella, Guillermo wants to build her an arco iris farm after they get married. That translates to ‘rainbow.’”
“What does he mean by that?” asked Deke.
“Guillo doesn’t want to work another corn farm once he’s done with the cartel,” said Carol. “His dream is to grow flowers.”
“Flowers the color of a rainbow.”
“That’s the visual,” said Carol.
“Our boy is a romantic,” said Deke.
“It takes one to know one.”
Deke couldn’t help but smile.
“By all accounts,” said Bennie, “this Guillo is a good kid.”
“That’s all I’ve been hearing as well,” Carol agreed.
While Carol had been working the international front, Bennie had concentrated on the local scene.
“The problem is, no one in West Virginia seems to know much about Guillo. He kept to himself. He was professionally polite to his customers, but there was little in the way of personal interaction. Most describe him as being shy. He apparently came to the States speaking very little English, but he managed to pick up the language even though he’s reticent about speaking it.”
“So you’re saying he understands English just fine,” mused Deke.
“That’s right,” said Bennie.
“That’s useful to know,” said Deke. “I’m pretty much the same way when it comes to Spanish. I can comprende pretty good, but because my accent is pure Panhandle cracker, I’m reluctant to speak it.”
“Whenever you visited the rez,” said Bennie, “my brother and I were always convinced that you spoke Mikasuki better than we did. You always seemed to know what we were saying when we were trying to pull one over on you.”
Bennie had grown to know Deke during one of the lawyer’s many visits to the Big Cypress Reservation when Deke was representing the tribal nation against polluters who had used the reservation as a toxic chemical dumping site. It was Bennie’s mother, a true force of nature, who’d hired Deke to represent the Seminole tribe even while she herself was dying from cancer likely caused by the illegal chemical dumping. After her death, Deke had taken a personal interest in Bennie and the Stokes family.
“How are you so sure I don’t speak Mikasuki?” Deke asked, smiling.
Bennie shook his head and rattled off a few words in his tribe’s language. At first Deke nodded and pretended to understand, but then he started laughing. “I guess I can’t bluff you anymore.”
“The Florida Seminole nation was always wise to the white man’s bluff,” said Bennie, “Let me remind you that we’re the only Native People who never signed a treaty with the white man.”
“Speaking of bluffing, Deke,” Carol said, “what’s your plan for getting in to see Guillo? It seems to me that some mighty big strings have been pulled to make sure he doesn’t have a chance to talk with anyone before being extradited to Mexico.”
“I’ve always been a big believer in righteous indignation,” said Deke. “Add to that some thinly veiled threats, and my ability to nimbly navigate through whatever kind of chaos comes my way.”
“In other words,” Carol said, “you’re going to wing it.”
“That’s pretty much the plan.”
vvv
Deke walked into the Melton sheriff’s deputy station and strode up to the reception desk.
“May I help you?” asked the middle-aged receptionist.
“Has the interpreter arrived yet?” asked Deke. He’d adopted the body language of being harried, and his speech was overloud.
“Interpreter?” asked the woman.
Deke looked at the nameplate on her desk, which identified her as Joanne Potts. “Yes, Ms. Potts,” he said, speaking as if she were hearing impaired, “there was supposed to be a Spanish interpreter waiting here for me.”
A smiling Carol and a frowning Bennie had positioned themselves behind Deke. Good cop, bad cop. The receptionist was looking more uncertain by the moment.
“My name is Nick Deketomis,” he said. “I’m a lawyer here to see my client.”
Deke raised a piece of paper he was holding and appeared to examine what was written on it. “His name is Guillermo Flores.”
By that time, Deke’s volume had drawn the attention of two sheriff’s deputies seated at their desks. One of the men got to his feet and walked over to Joanne’s side. She looked more than happy to leave him to deal with Deke and company.
“May I help you?” the deputy asked.
Deke pretended to squint while trying to read the man’s badge. “Deputy Dunn,” he said, as if trying to place the name.
“That’s right.”
Once again Deke consulted the paper he was holding, stabbed at the page with his finger, and said, “You’re the arresting officer.”
“And who are you?” asked Dunn.
“Nick Deketomis, attorney,” he said. “Has the interpreter arrived yet?”
“What interpreter is that?”
“The interpreter for Guillermo Flores. He doesn’t speak English, right? And since I don’t speak Spanish, we obviously need an interpreter.”
“Whoa,” Dunn said, raising a hand. “Flores has not asked to speak to a lawyer.”
Deke shook his head. “That’s where you’re mistaken, my friend. I have in my possession a phone message showing that Mr. Flores, or someone representing him, called my office and requested that I represent him.”
“Our prisoner hasn’t made a phone call,” Dunn said.
“Really?” said Deke, looking baffled. “How do you know that?”
“We took away his phone.”
Deke let the words float there for a moment, wondering if Dunn would realize what he’d just admitted. “Let me see if I understand what you’re saying: you took Mr. Flores’s phone away and never allowed him to call a lawyer or anyone else for help. Is that what you’re saying, Deputy Dunn?”
Dunn’s expression grew stony. “Like I told you, he didn’t make any call.”
“Then he made the call to us before you confiscated his phone. Either that, or he had a friend request our representation on his behalf.”
“None of that sounds likely.”
“What doesn’t sound likely is you reading him his rights.”
“I Mirandized him,” Dunn said stubbornly.
Deke rolled his eyes. Carol looked at the cop skeptically; Bennie just stood there looking damned intimidating.
“I assume you read him those rights in Spanish?” asked Deke.
The deputy looked uncertain as to how to answer. Finally, he said, “He understood what I was telling him.”
“And how do you know that?” Deke said.
“I asked him.”
“In English?”
“The arrest was by the book,” Dunn said.
“And while you were speaking Spanish to him,” Deke said, “I’m thinking you might have left out that part about his right to immediately speak to a lawyer. Which, by the way, would be me. I’m that lawyer, Deputy Dunn. I’m that guy you didn’t want him speaking to. But as much as you didn’t want that, it would be an even bigger mistake to turn me away right now. You know why? Because if I can’t talk to my client, I’m going to direct all my attention to you. And the first question I’d like to ask you is, ‘How did you come to arrest my client?’”
“He’s not your client.”
Deke raised his brows. “At a future date, I’ll be happy to debate that in a federal courtroom, where I will sue you personally, and sue this entire sheriff’s department, for at least a dozen civil rights violations. But that’s for later. What I am asking you right now is, why did you arrest my client?”
Dunn crossed his arms. “Read the report. He had a broken taillight. When I pulled him over, it was clear he was nervous about something. That’s when I saw the baggie on the floor of the passenger seat.”
“And according to you, this baggie contained heroin?”
“It did.”
“And was this your first interaction with my client?”
“Yeah,” said Dunn, who was looking increasingly sullen.
Deke decided it was time to up the ante.
“Let me get this right, Deputy. For more than a year Mr. Flores, a Mexican national, has been dealing drugs within your jurisdiction. He’s been doing this seven days a week, twelve hours a day. And yet you never met him. I’m sure had you asked any of the many addicts in Seneca County who their dealer was, they would have offered up my client’s name. Why didn’t you do that?”
“Look,” said Dunn, “I’m tired of this bullshit, and I don’t have to answer your questions.”
“In lieu of my not being able to talk to my client,” said Deke, “I intend to depose you. There are a number of questions that I look forward to asking.”
Deke paused long enough to take a breath and to take a read of Dunn. The deputy, he was sure, was on the ropes.
“What I find so very coincidental in this matter is the timing of my client’s arrest,” said Deke. “And that arrest only becomes more suspicious when this office starts making public statements speculating on the disappearance of Jake Rutledge.”
“Mr. Flores was trying to plea bargain,” said Dunn. “That happens all the time. There’s nothing suspicious or preposterous about that.”
Deke raised his index finger to his lips and then started tapping as if in deep thought. “Deputy Dunn,” he said, offering up the name as if it was a question of sorts, “I’ve seen or heard that name before. Oh, yes, now I remember. Didn’t you have some kind of run-in with Jake Rutledge?”
The question made the deputy look distinctly uncomfortable. “There was no run-in,” he said.
“Must be my mistake,” said Deke.
The deputy did his best to offer up a conciliatory smile, but the effort just made him look as if he were ill. “I’m sorry your interpreter was a no-show,” he said, “but I have work that I need to attend to.”
“Does anyone in this office speak Spanish?” asked Deke.
Dunn spoke for Joanne and the other deputy. “Afraid not,” he said.
Deke sighed. “In that case, I think the best we can accomplish here is to agree that we can’t agree about my right to have a lengthy sit-down interview with my client. At a minimum, though, shouldn’t I be allowed to say hello? Even without an interpreter, I’d like my client to know that I’m his lawyer.”
Turning to Carol and Bennie, Deke said, “Either of you know the word for ‘attorney’ in Spanish?”
“Is it tiburon?” Only those who knew Bennie well would have been able to discern his smile.
“That doesn’t sound right,” said Deke.
“I think that means ‘fish,’” Carol offered.
“No,” said Bennie, “now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure it means ‘shark.’”
“Well, I can’t have my client be told that his shark is here,” said Deke.
The deputy saw his chance to get out of Deke’s crosshairs, while at the same time marginally fulfilling the attorney’s request to see his client. “As a courtesy,” he said, “if you want to talk to Mr. Flores, I’ll allow you five minutes, but no more.”
“Five minutes?” said Deke. “That’s not enough time to say howdy do.”
“You want to see him or don’t you?”
Carol and Bennie weren’t allowed to accompany Deke, but they were seated close enough to the holding cell to hear Deke say, “No hablo español.”
Deputy Dunn was seated much closer to the cell. In fact, he seemed positioned to hear every word of what was supposed to be a private conversation. After Deke said that he no hablo español,” he added something else in what seemed to be pidgin Spanish; Carol heard Deke say something about Bella this and Bella that.
As Deke had no doubt intended, the conversation between the two men sounded stilted and incomprehensible—Deke only able to communicate with his pidgin Spanish, and Flores in his supposedly almost-nonexistent English. Over the course of the five minutes, Carol watched Deputy Dunn’s face gradually relax; by the end, he was practically smiling.
Dunn walked over to the holding cell and announced that their time was up.
Carol could hear the indignation lacing Deke’s voice. “I really need to come back and speak to my client with an interpreter. As it is, we weren’t able to talk.”
“Sounded like the two of you talked the whole time,” Dunn said.
As the two men came out of the cell, Deke said, “I did learn that my client’s last name means ‘flowers’ in Spanish.”
Now Dunn couldn’t even hide his smile. He even grinned when Deke added sternly, “Be advised that the sheriff will be hearing from me.” Given that Flores was supposed to be extradited to Mexico tomorrow, he no doubt assumed he was off the hook.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Deke said, pausing by Carol’s and Bennie’s seats. “This has been a huge waste of time.”
“Have a good day,” Dunn called after them.
Carol waited to speak until they got into their rental car. “Well?” she asked.
“Guillermo told me he never heard of Jake Rutledge,” Deke said. “In fact, he said he feels sorry for him. But since the cops and the cartel are forcing him to play ball, he’s going along with their script.”
“I guess he really doesn’t have a choice in the matter,” she said.
Deke nodded. “At least I was able to get the straight story out of him. And one day soon, he’ll be able to recant. I promised Guillo that I’d have a good lawyer waiting for him the moment his plane sets down in Mexico.”
He started the car and then seemed to remember something. “Guess what? I’m pretty sure I just agreed to invest in a flower farm in Mexico.”
“I know for a fact how much Teri loves flowers,” Carol said. For much of the year, Deke’s work kept him away from home and his wife, Teri. Everyone in the office knew that he invariably presented Teri with a bouquet of flowers each time he returned.
“She and Guillermo’s Bella have that in common,” Deke said. “Both of us hope to be able to give the women we love a rainbow.”
“Ah,” said Carol, “I can see Teri has trained you well.”
She was sitting in the passenger seat and reached over to give Deke an attaboy tap on his shoulder.
From the back seat, where he had spread out his massive frame, Bennie said, “You’re setting the bar awfully high for the rest of us guys.”
“I think I’ll sell shares to my flower farm,” said Deke. “Bergman/ Deketomis can run on flower power.”
Bennie lifted his forefinger to his lips and said, “Shh.” Then he spoke into his cell phone. Deke and Carol listened while he ordered a dozen roses for his wife.
When he finished his call, Bennie shrugged. “I never imagined we’d be in West Virginia for as long as we’ve been.”
“When your team finds Jake,” said Deke, “the time away will be worth it.”
“Do you think he’s still alive?” asked Carol.
“I do,” said Deke. “I asked that same question of Flores. He thinks Jake is alive as well.”
“Did he tell you why?” asked Bennie.
“He pressed the limits of my Spanish,” Deke admitted, “but I’m pretty sure he told me that the authorities wouldn’t have bothered extorting a confession out of him if Jake wasn’t alive. Of course, I couldn’t ask him to elaborate since I knew Dunn was listening, and Guillo could only stick out his neck out so far.”
“I came to that same conclusion,” said Carol, “although I’ve been hoping it’s not just wishful thinking.”
“Jake’s alive,” Deke said. “We all need to operate under that assumption.”
29
“I LOVE LIARS!”
The sun had set three hours earlier in Huntington, West Virginia, but Deke and Paul continued to work at their desks. For them, it was another fourteen-hour workday.
Deke got up from his chair and stretch
ed. His back ached, and he gently moved from side to side, and then up and down, in an effort to loosen it.
“Want some ibuprofen?” asked Paul.
“I took two an hour ago,” Deke said.
What Team Jake was calling “the ARCOS hearing” was scheduled
to be heard in Columbus in four weeks. The team had pushed hard for the expedited hearing, but that was before Jake’s disappearance. Because of Jake’s absence, the two lawyers were placing even additional pressure on themselves. They couldn’t do anything to directly help find their missing comrade, but they could honor the cases he’d set into motion by doing everything in their power to win. Deke’s reminder of Jake’s will could be seen in a piece of paper he’d taped to a wall. Using a black Sharpie, he’d written What Would Jake Do? That was the WWJD reminder everyone on Team Jake was living by.
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“‘One game away from the Super Bowl,’” said Paul. Deke had to smile. Paul was quoting Jake. “The one conversation I never had with our young warrior was what would happen if we failed to win this ARCOS hearing.”
Obtaining the DEA’s ARCOS data was a necessary stepping-stone to national litigation. The same kind of opioid tragedy that had plagued the tiny counties in West Virginia and Ohio that Jake represented also existed throughout the U.S. With the ARCOS data, Deke intended to show that there was a well-defined pattern to the way the drug corporations had perpetuated their own terrible epidemic.
“He’s one hell of a recruiter,” said Deke. “And since we can’t win one for the Gipper, how about we win for Jake?”
“That sounds like a good locker-room speech to me,” said Paul.
“At least we’ll have an even playing field in that we’ll be arguing the ARCOS hearing in front of one of the most respected federal judges in the country.”
“What’s your take on Judge Sargent?” asked Paul.
“His background checks every professional box. He came out of private practice, and then became one of the most respected prosecutors in the U.S. Attorney’s office, before moving on to being chief judge of his district. Back when he worked in private practice, Sargent represented the city council for three years, and because of that, he understands city and county government, which might be critically important. Few jurists have his realworld experience.”
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