by John Bloom
It’s hard to say who was most shocked by the article—Don Crowder, Rob Udashen, Don McElroy, Ron Adams, or Candy Montgomery. All of them were on the phone for most of the morning, cursing and trying to find the source of the article. At one point Don even called the Morning News and demanded to speak to Selcraig’s editor.
It’s easy to say who was least shocked by it—Pat Montgomery. He read it three times before leaving for work, and then he read it again. He didn’t know exactly what to make of it yet, didn’t know whether it was good news or bad news as far as Candy’s case was concerned, but somehow it made him feel better. That afternoon he called Rob Udashen’s office and requested an appointment. The secretary promised she’d have him call, but by the end of the day Pat still hadn’t heard from him. The next day Pat tried again, but Rob was still unavailable.
Actually Rob was busy drawing up legal papers for the motion he had wanted to make for a long time. After the shouting had died down, Rob had gone into Don’s office.
“We need to take the press out of this thing,” he told him. “We need a gag order.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Don.
21 Sandbagged
Within hours after the News’ bombshell article, Rob Udashen was on the phone to Jack Pepper, the assistant DA, asking for a gag-order hearing as soon as possible. Rob had an ulterior motive. He wanted to put a stop to the news leaks that were constantly getting Candy’s name into the newspaper, but at least as important was the effect it would have on Don’s mouth. Pepper seemed more than willing to cooperate. It was scheduled for the next day. Both men agreed it would be best if no one told the press about the special hearing.
The next morning Rob stopped at the house to pick Candy up, and they arrived at the courthouse together. They went straight to Ryan’s courtroom, right on time, but found it empty. So Rob had Candy wait while he went back to Ryan’s chambers. He found the judge sitting at his desk.
“We’re here, Judge,” said Rob, poking his head in the door.
Ryan simply nodded.
Rob returned to the courtroom and waited about five minutes before O’Connell and Pepper arrived. But still Judge Ryan didn’t emerge from his chambers. After fifteen more minutes, Rob said, “I wonder if he knows we’re all out here,” but no one else seemed upset by the delay.
Rob let fifteen more minutes pass, then went back to the chambers again.
“We’re all here, Judge. We’re ready.”
“All right.”
It took another ten minutes, but finally Ryan emerged in his robes and announced he was ready. The gag order had already been prepared by the DA’s office, and it took only two or three minutes to read it and get it approved by both sides. Rob assumed the hearing was over, but suddenly Ryan shifted gears.
“Now I have one other matter before the court, of grave concern to the court,” began Ryan, “and that is the sufficiency of the sureties on this bond. For the record, the surety on the bond, the principal being Candace L. Montgomery—this is you, is it not?”
“Yes, sir,” said Candy.
“The surety is Bob Hendricks, who the court will take judicial notice is a local attorney. The affidavit recites that Mr. Hendricks—and I’m just paraphrasing—concerning his financial condition, swears that he’s worth at least the sum of two hundred thousand dollars.…”
Candy turned and looked at Rob. “What’s he saying?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” said Rob.
“It’s come to this court’s attention,” continued Ryan, “there’s not an affidavit of worth on file with the sheriff’s department of Collin County, Texas. And the sheriff is here and I want to find out if that’s true. I want to find out the present value of the property, the location and description of the property, and the encumbrances if any, and the net value and also the outstanding indebtedness on the part of the surety for other bonds, if there is any.”
Ryan looked up from whatever he was reading. “Are you prepared to offer that type of testimony?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” said O’Connell quickly.
Rob swiveled his head and stared at O’Connell in shock. How could the district attorney be prepared to offer testimony on a matter Rob knew nothing about? They had come to approve a routine gag-order, and now suddenly they were talking about bonds and property and indebtedness.
“All right, call your first witness,” said Ryan.
“I call Jerry Burton,” said O’Connell just as quickly.
Rob flinched again. Jerry Burton was the sheriff. The judge, the DA, and the sheriff all knew what was going on, and he didn’t. He was too confused even to object. He didn’t even know how to object. So he sat and waited to see what they were doing.
Sheriff Burton was sworn, and as he took the stand he handed Candy’s bonding papers to the court reporter.
Under questioning from Tom O’Connell, Burton testified that Bob Hendricks, Candy’s local bail bondsman, did not have an affidavit of net value on file with the county, and that, even if he did, he was overextended. Rob saw what was coming and leapt to his feet.
“When did you first discover that you did not have the affidavit on file, Sheriff?” asked Rob. His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Today,” said Burton.
“When was that?”
“Today.”
“That’s all the questions I have for the sheriff.”
“All right,” said Ryan.
Rob remained standing. “Judge, can I make a statement for the record?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I would like to point out that this is the first time I’ve had notice of the problem. I have not obviously had an opportunity to discuss this with Mr. Hendricks or anyone else prior to today. And I’d like the record to reflect that.”
“All right,” said Ryan. “You may step down, Sheriff.”
Ryan reached for a lawbook resting on the bench and opened it to a page marked with a bookmark.
“Article 17.09 of the Code of Criminal Procedure,” he began, “provides among other things that if during the course of an action, the judge in whose court such an action is pending finds that the bond is defective, excessive or insufficient in amount.…”
Candy didn’t understand all the technical legal language as Ryan read on and on, but she sat up when she heard the phrase “order the accused to be rearrested” and turned to Rob for an explanation.
“Are they trying to rearrest me?” she asked, disbelieving.
“Yeah,” said Rob drily.
“Can they do that?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Apparently. But don’t worry, I’ll straighten it out with Hendricks.”
Within two minutes of Ryan reading the passage from the lawbook, Sheriff Burton had slapped handcuffs on Candy’s wrists. Rob watched her being led away and felt entirely helpless.
“Exactly when today did you look up that affidavit?” demanded Rob. He was talking to the sheriff, and his face was flushed.
“I guess just before we came in here.”
“While we were waiting for the hearing to start?”
Burton had nothing more to say.
“The bastards,” Don said.
“They took me by surprise, Don. I blew it.”
“We’re filing a federal lawsuit. There is such a thing as civil rights, even if those rednecks don’t know it.”
“Don, you can’t go to the press with this,” said Rob.
“What?”
“The gag order. They got it approved and signed before they rearrested her. The courtroom was empty. No one knows about it.”
“The bastards.”
For once in his life, mild-mannered Pat Montgomery was hopping mad. Barbara Green had called him at work to break the news. He didn’t even go home first. He drove straight from Texas Instruments to the jail.
Surprised to find the reception area empty, since it was usually full of cameramen and reporters, he marched up to the receptionist.
“I need
to see the sheriff,” said Pat.
“He’s not here,” she said.
“Well, you’ve rearrested my wife and I want to know why.”
“I don’t know anything about that, Mr. Montgomery.”
“Well, I’m not leaving here until I get answers.”
Pat went over to the pay phone and called Barbara Green.
“Barbara,” he said, “you’ll have to keep the kids this afternoon, because I’m not leaving here until I get answers.”
Pat took a seat, wondering what to do next. After a few minutes Rob walked in with Bob Hendricks, the bondsman.
“What’s going on?” said Pat angrily.
Rob could see Pat was agitated, and attempted to calm him down. He outlined briefly what had happened at the hearing.
“I’ve got to see Candy.”
“I’ll try to get you in.”
But all Rob’s efforts were to no avail. Pat waited at the jail two and a half hours, only to be informed that visiting hours were on Sunday and he would have to wait until then. That evening jail officials agreed to let Rob in to see her for just ten minutes, strictly because he claimed to have legal business.
Since the arrest was made on a Friday afternoon, everyone knew there was very little chance of anything being done before Monday. That meant Candy would spend at least three nights in jail, and the thought made Pat almost physically sick. He drove home and went by the Greens’ to pick up the kids. Barbara had saved some Sloppy Joes for him, so he lingered at their house for a while, grateful for the sympathetic ears. Pat dreaded having to tell the children. Jenny already knew something was up.
“Is Mommy ever coming home?” she asked at last.
“Of course, she is,” said Pat.
Candy might have broken down again had it not been for Mary. She saw her as soon as the deputy took her to the book-in area, and was glad she was there during the fingerprinting and photographs.
“Aren’t you going to strip-search me now?” asked Candy.
“No,” said Mary, “we never do that.”
This time Candy was placed in the first cell, next to the jailer’s office, tinier than the others and generally used as an isolation cell. Since it was still daytime, she managed better this time when the heavy metal door clanged shut. For a few hours she held out some hope of being released, then, aware that it must be well past working hours, realized that she might have to stay the entire weekend.
Rob came to her cell early that first evening, then Elaine the next day. Pat was allowed to see Candy for thirty minutes on Sunday afternoon, but even that time was tense and tearful. He understood what was going on least of anyone.
Neighbors were handling the meals again. On Saturday Sherry Cleckler had come by the house to cook spaghetti and meat sauce for dinner. Barbara Green provided leftovers for lunch. That night, a friend from the church named Larry Sullivan stopped by with a six-pack of Coors and stayed for two hours. Pat had always liked Larry and his wife Terry, but had never known them that well. He already felt himself growing closer to people he had known for years.
Pat and the kids overslept on Sunday morning, but Pat insisted that they go to church anyway. Ron Adams mentioned Candy in his opening prayer, which made the kids feel better, and after services Terry Sullivan brought over an ice chest full of food—barbecued chicken breasts, broccoli, rice, corn, and chocolate cookies. Pat had to save it, though, because Barbara Green had already prepared a Sunday dinner of roast beef, corn, and potatoes, with peach crunch and ice cream for dessert.
Monday came and went, and Candy remained in jail. Elaine went by to see her that afternoon to tell her there were still difficulties. The legal reasoning was complicated, but it all amounted to two things: Candy’s bail bondsman wasn’t acceptable, and the only way to get around it was to pay another $15,000.
“Elaine, all I know is I’ve read The Rebels twice and something called Rocky Candy Mountain twice, and they refuse to give me any more books, and they refuse to let me take a shower, and I don’t even have a pencil and paper to write letters with.”
Pat stayed home from work on Monday, expecting Candy to get out of jail, and then fell into a depression again when the lawyers called late in the day to say it would be another day. After the kids were in bed, Pat sat down in his study and slowly started writing a letter.
“These last few days,” he wrote, “have been the most trying times of our lives. I want you to know that I believe in you and I love you and I’ll always be with you no matter what happens. Don’t worry about me—I’ll always be with you. And don’t worry about the kids. I can take care of them. They, of course, miss you. Jenny has really bugged me about when she can have a pony. Ian wants his own pony. I told her we couldn’t afford a pony now or for a while. I want you to know that whenever you think of me, I hope you feel warm all over; because, I’m thinking of you and wanting to be close to you. I can feel your presence, too. I’m praying a lot and I know my prayers will be answered. When you lay down to sleep at night, I want you to know that I’m with you and I’m thinking of you. I love you so much.…”
Pat signed his name and addressed the letter, care of Sheriff’s Department, McKinney, Texas. It took two days for the postal service to deliver it, and when it arrived Candy was still there to receive it.
As soon as Don got the news of the rearrest, he had personally taken charge of the case. He called Rob and Elaine together over the weekend and mapped out a three-pronged strategy. Rob would work with Swidler, Hendricks, and Burton to see if there was any way to make the original bond acceptable. At the same time, Rob would file a writ of habeas corpus alleging that Candy was being held illegally; as a condition of her release, the defense team was willing to settle for a reduction of the bond to $25,000. Don actually held out very little hope of either measure working. But the habeas corpus petition would force Judge Ryan to schedule a hearing, and before that hearing was held, Don intended to file a federal lawsuit in the district court at nearby Sherman. It took Don until Wednesday to get the suit properly worded and filed, but once he did, he knew Ryan would be able to feel the pressure.
When the papers were filed, and Ryan was served by the federal marshal, a courthouse friend of Don called to say that the judge was livid.
“Good,” said Don. “Exactly what we want.”
The lawsuit had named as defendants almost every law enforcement official in Collin County, beginning with Ryan and including District Attorney O’Connell, Sheriff Burton, Wylie Police Chief Abbott, Department of Public Safety officers Burks and Murphy, the city of Wylie, and the county itself. It was also a ten-page laundry list of all Don’s grievances, which he knew would be picked up by the press. He accused the Collin County officials of conducting an illegal hearing to put Candy back in jail, of illegally strip-searching her at her original book-in, of leaking unfavorable facts to the news media, and of forcing Pat and Don McElroy to testify before a grand jury in violation of constitutional safeguards. He asked for a total of $1.5 million in punitive and compensatory damages.
Pat was allowed to see Candy on Wednesday afternoon but found it difficult to speak when he saw how much worse she looked. Her hair had gone unwashed three days, and she complained that the guards refused to help her any longer; they wouldn’t even bring her a pencil. Pat passed Candy some cards that had been mailed to the house and told her about yet more old friends who had materialized out of thin air after reading about the case or seeing Candy’s picture on television.
Elaine Carpenter knew that Pat would be upset by Candy’s appearance, so she stopped by to see him that evening. Larry and Terry Sullivan came by a little later, carrying another Coors six-pack, two coloring books, and a Tom and Jerry game. Afterwards Pat put the kids to bed and, hoping he would never have to mail it, started his daily letter.
“I don’t think that words can express my love for you,” he wrote. “It just seems a shame that when our marriage is the best it has ever been that something like this happens. But we w
ill have to stand up to the test.…
“You know, all of a sudden, I feel so old. It is hard to remember those early years of our marriage and even before when we were dating. We were both so young. Maybe it’s just that experiences such as this age us so fast.
“I hope that everything straightens out soon and all this harassment stops.
“Candy, remember that I love you and that I will always be with you. I believe in you now more than I have all our lives and you know that I love you now more than I ever have. It seems so unfair that all this has happened at this point in our lives. But then again, maybe we are more prepared to withstand the assault against you by the authorities and survive in tack now than ever before. I know that this ordeal is hardest on you, but have faith that right and truth will win out.
“I love you so much and will always.…”
Candy was not nearly as wasted as Pat assumed. As first-time prisoners go, she was remarkably strong. She tolerated the bad food and the incessant noise from slamming doors, guards yelling at prisoners, inmates’ radios, and occasional fights or arguments. Since she was in a maximum-security cell, she couldn’t actually see anything, and only once did she speak to another inmate. His name was Phil, and he was having a hard time coping with the solitary cell next to her own.
“I don’t think I can do thirty days here,” he said. “I’ll go crazy.”
She didn’t say anything. Then, after a moment, he said, “Are you in a padded cell, too?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been there?”
“Almost a week.”
“Why do they have you in isolation?”
“They either don’t trust me, or they don’t trust the rest of the people in here.”
The highlight of the week was the day they let Candy clean her cell: she scrubbed the floor and made the sink and toilet look like new. It was just what she needed—activity. If she was going to fall apart, she didn’t want it to happen here, where people could see her. She would get through this first; she could think about breaking down later. It wasn’t even that she feared so much. It was the thought that, once it was all over, nothing would be the same. Would she ever be able to fix pimiento cheese sandwiches for the kids and shop with Sherry and play with Sayde, their dog, and forget this had ever happened? Nothing else mattered if she could just have that again.