Murmuring once again filled the courtroom as the judge looked over to where Mac Walker was seated.
“Mr. Walker, I have reviewed your file. I see you served your nation with distinction for many years, and in some very dangerous locations. I did two tours in Vietnam myself a long-long time ago. I know how wartime can leave a mark on a man that never really goes away. It might fade a bit, but it’s always there, just under the surface. Am I right, Mr. Walker?”
Mac stood up and nodded back at Judge Harding.
“Yes sir.”
Gresh stood up as well and whispered into Mac’s left ear.
“No need to speak, Mr .Walker. I suggest you keep quiet.”
Judge Harding pointed to Hubert Gresh.
“Now see there ladies and gentlemen, see how the attorney for Mr. Walker wants his client to just shut up? That’s our legal system these days right there. Just shut up and take what’s given. It’s all lies anymore, right? And this here trial, I don’t know what exactly you did or didn’t do Mr. Walker, but what has brought us here today…it sure as hell don’t pass the smell test. See, I don’t much care for the White House trying to influence a federal judge. No, don’t care for that one damn bit. Those people outside this courthouse are screaming all kinds of things right now, but mostly, they’re saying Mr. Walker here is a cold blooded, racist killer. Maybe he is, maybe he ain’t, but Mr. Walker’s file shows him having served with plenty of men and women of color over the years, people who depended on him as much as he did them. As for the illegal weapons charge, I’ll just say that this here federal judge, who is sworn to uphold the laws of our American Constitution, does not support our current and intended sovereign legal system being unduly influenced by international agreements. No sir, I do not.
“All that said doesn’t add up to more than the ramblings of an old man though, now does it? We have before us a man accused of murder. Of a hate crime, of using a weapon banned by some global mandate most of us had no idea even existed. So, all that said, I must now ask the defendant how they plead regarding the charges this government has brought against them.”
Hubert Gresh attempted to speak first, his voice nearly choked off by his own nervousness.
“My client, Mr. Walker pleads---“
Mac cut Gresh off.
“I can speak for myself, Mr. Gresh. Your honor, would it be possible for me to make a statement before entering my plea?”
Jinnet Templeton rose quickly to her feet.
“Objection, your honor, these proceedings have already been highly unusual.”
Without looking back at her, Judge Harding overruled the prosecution’s objection.
“I think, given the nature of these very serious charges, and the years of service you gave to this country, that allowing you time to make a public statement is both appropriate and appreciated, Mr. Walker. I would caution you though, that your words can influence the outcome of this trial.”
Mac Walker cleared his throat and gave a half smile to the judge, and then looked over his right shoulder at the media throng that sat looking back at him, their cameras transmitting the trial live via satellite feeds. He also saw Ella Lerner as well, her face a mixture of concerned confusion and perhaps, Mac thought to himself, a hint of admiration.
“Thank you very much, your honor. As everyone in here knows, my name is Mackenzie Walker. I was born and raised in the small town of Carville Louisiana on the shores of the Mississippi. It was there I learned about simple, small town American values, and a love of this great country. Now I know that when people today hear that kind of talk, love of country, small town values, well, those things get ridiculed by a whole lot of folks who seem to hate this country more and more. Some of them people are sitting in this courtroom today.
“I don’t know this judge sitting up there from Adam, but I do know all about the frustration he was speaking to. How he don’t like some parts of our government abusing its power at the expense of other parts. How he thinks it dangerous that the United States is tying itself up to treaties made by people who aren’t even citizens of this country. Seems to me, and I’ll be the first to admit I’m never gonna be mistaken for some Ivy League scholar, but seems to me that kind of thing is damn dangerous. Hell, some might even call it an outright violation of the Constitution.
“I was a soldier. I’m a fighter. I try to follow my orders and do what’s right. Call it a code, call it honor, whatever word or phrase others have for it – it’s what I am. It’s all I know. Recently our current government asked me to do something and I refused. That refusal cost me…it cost lives. That kind of loss, the judge is right…it never leaves a man. Those two people sitting over there say I shot a man out of racism. That’s bullshit. I know looking the way I do right now, maybe a lot of you will doubt my words, but I shot that man in self defense. He was beating a woman to death, and I intervened. My honor made that choice for me you see. I have the ability to help a person in need, that’s what I do. It’s all I really know how to do, and I’ll be damned if anyone is gonna make me feel shame for having done it.
“Now this country of ours, what’s left of it, is hurting. We are being eaten up from the inside, and picked apart from the outside. The government is telling us what to do, how to think, how we live, and how we die. We kill more of our own babies every year than the terrorists ever could. Does that sound like a society that’s right to you?
“You know, they sent soldiers like me off to fight in places because we believed we were protecting our liberties and freedoms here at home. Thing is, while we were away fighting, those same liberties and freedoms were being stripped away and when we came back, our own government put us on watch lists and called us radicals. Said we couldn’t own weapons. It’s going down like this all around us now. People want to see this country destroyed, and I’m here to tell you right now, they’re winning. It’s happening, and I think if any of you still have the ability to be honest with yourself, you can feel it happening. You know in your gut, something is very wrong inside of America right now.
“I’m here to tell you so that maybe, just maybe, some of you are listening. We’re losing this country. We’re losing our identity, our way of life, and all of the freedoms that once came with being a citizen of this country. Don’t just sit back and let it happen, because what we had is worth fighting for. Maybe I’m just some dumb, used up old soldier, but I’ll go to my grave knowing that to be true.”
Silence filled the courtroom with the exception of media photographers snapping pictures.
Judge Martin Harding’s eyes stared down at his own hands folded in front of him, his mind digesting Mac Walker’s words. After a long pause he looked back at Mac, the tone of his voice clearly conveying a tired sadness.
“Mr. Walker, it is time for you to enter your plea of the charges now filed against you. How sir, do you plead?”
Without hesitation, Mac Walker gave his answer.
“Guilty.”
XVII.
The eruption within the courtroom over Mac’s plea of guilty exceeded his expectations, leaving him smiling to himself as he stood unmoving under the quiet stare of Judge Harding.
Behind him, Mac heard Dasha curse, as Hubert Gresh’s face went completely white and his right hand reached out to the table in front of him, leaning against it for support.
“Uh, your honor, uh, I would like a moment to confer with my client.”
The judge’s gavel slammed downward several times, its impact echoing throughout the room, bringing the collective outburst to a more subdued murmuring.
“I imagine you would like that, Mr. Gresh. It would appear your client’s plea was not what some might have intended for him, am I right?”
Mac Walker was impressed by how quickly the judge figured out his motivation for pleading guilty to charges they both knew he was innocent of.
“Tell me, Mr. Walker are you certain you wish to proceed with a plea of guilty?”
Mac nodded back at the judge three tim
es.
“Yes, your honor – very certain.”
“Objection! Objection!”
Jinnet Templeton’s objection was bordering on an uncontrolled screech. Her eyes were wide and panicked, her hands visibly trembling.
“Your honor, this is not…I would ask the court to explain to Mr. Walker he should not, or does not, have to enter a plea of guilty.”
Judge Harding looked from Mac to Jinnet Templeton and then back to Mac.
“I want to see both defense and prosecution in my chambers - NOW.”
Gresh muttered quietly to himself as he and Mac were escorted to the hallway to the right of Judge Harding’s bench.
“Oh shit.”
A moment later Mac found himself standing next to Hubert Gresh on his left, and Jinnet Templeton on his right as Judge Harding glared back at all of them from behind his large and much worn desk.
The judge’s chambers were filled with photographs of his time in Vietnam, a prominent wedding photo, and a more recent photograph of the judge holding a small child, likely a grandchild.
“Ms. Templeton, I don’t much care for attorneys coming into my court and attempting to tell me how to conduct a trial.”
Jinnet Templeton had regained her cold composure as her eyes looked back at Judge Harding with subtle, assured disdain.
“Your honor, all due respect, but Mr. Walker’s plea was most unexpected, and frankly, does not seem to be in the best interest of him or this court.”
Judge Harding’s eyes narrowed as he glared back at the prosecutor.
“You walk a very fine line here, young lady. I could take what you just said as an implied threat against a federal judge. Don’t think for a second I would believe you have the best interests of either Mr. Walker or this court in mind. No, it seems clear to me you were counting on a full trial. You wanted a trial. Why that is, I don’t know, and frankly, don’t much give a shit.”
Jinnet Templeton put her shoulders back slightly and returned the judge’s glare with one of her own.
“It was my understanding your honor was informed of the particulars of this case. It appears that understanding was…incorrect.”
Judge Harding gave a knowing smile as he leaned back in his leather bound chair, his head nodding slowly.
“Ok then, there it is. Yes sir, there it is. Ms. Templeton, I now see that your office was working with people in the administration and thought they could intimidate me into, shall we say, going along to get along. That’s about right is it?”
The prosecutor said nothing, her eyes gazing back at the judge without emotion.
Judge Harding looked over at Mac Walker and tapped the top of his desk with his right hand.
“Mr. Walker, you do understand that a plea of guilty allows me to hand down your sentence immediately? There is no trial, no jury, no testimony. You will be sentenced, and given the charges, and the federal laws now in place regarding hate crimes, I have very little room to maneuver regarding that sentence.”
Mac nodded back to the judge.
“I understand, sir. No trial – I’m not giving these sons-of-bitches the show they wanted. They won’t use me to further their agenda. You do what you are required to do your honor.”
Jinnet Templeton again attempted to interject, but her words were cut off by the judge as he held his left hand up to her.
“No more from you, Ms. Templeton or I will hold you in contempt, and believe me, I would really enjoy doing that. Now get out of my chambers and let me do my damn job.”
Mac was escorted back to his place at the front of the courtroom, where he and everyone else awaited Judge Harding’s return behind the bench. The entire courtroom sat silently for nearly twenty minutes before the judge returned slowly to his seat and stared out at the mass of faces looking back at him. He pointed a finger at the section of the courtroom where the media was gathered.
“Those cameras rolling? This thing is going out live right now, that correct?”
A voice from the back of the room answered.
“Yes – we’re live.”
Judge Harding paused briefly while looking down at his desk, and then nodded his head.
“Good…good. I want everyone here, and everyone watching this trial to know of something that just happened. Right after the defense and prosecution left my chambers, I got a direct call in my office. First thing they told me was that I was not to tell anyone about the call.”
Soft laughter rippled inside the courtroom for a moment before everyone grew silent again and waited for the judge to continue.
“So these people who called me, well, they are what most of us would consider connected. You get my meaning? Powerful political type folks, the kind the rest of us can’t stomach having to listen to, or watch on the television. The same kind that are only too happy to send young men and woman off to die in wars while they give one speech after another about how we need to be a country of peace. A country of peace? BULLSHIT. They’ve made us a country of pieces. Mr. Walker over here knows what I’m talking about, and maybe some of you out there know something of it too. These people would attempt intimidation of a federal court judge. The laws of this country are not for them, but only for the rest of you.
“That plea of guilty you entered has started a hornets nest of protest, Mr. Walker. Guess that wasn’t what someone had written up in the script. Whatever damnable play from hell this all is, you don’t seem to be all that willing to play your part, and frankly, sir, I applaud you for that.
“I must follow the laws and sentencing guidelines of this government, such as it is. I have explained this already to Mr. Walker. I accept his plea of guilty and will now hand down the sentence accordingly. I also wish to add that this will be the last case I ever preside over. Effective today, I resign my position as a federal court judge of these United States. And the people who just made that call into my office, well you all can kiss…my…ass.
“Mr. Mackenzie Walker, I do hereby sentence you to forty years in the Allenwood federal prison facility. Good luck to you, sir, and may God forgive us all for what has become of this country.
“This matter is now concluded.”
Mac found himself led by two armed guards back downstairs to the holding cell below the courthouse. He could hear the throng of people outside cheering as they were told the judge’s sentence. A moment later, and Mac Walker sat alone on the now all too familiar cell bed, his hands folded in front of him as he waited calmly and patiently for the arrival of the person who most wanted him dead at this moment. Within minutes, he heard her high heeled footsteps making their way down the hallway toward him.
“You are an insufferable pain in my ass, Mr. Walker.”
Mac looked back at Dasha Al Marri and shrugged.
“Keep our love life out of this, Dasha.”
The remark managed to bring a red hue to Dasha’s normally always composed face.
“You think this is funny? You think you have won anything by your stunt today? You’re already a dead man, Mr. Walker. You and your friend, Mr. Williams. You will never see the outside of that prison. And everywhere you go inside of there, know that you face extermination. And it will come for you, much sooner than later.”
Mac stood up quickly and walked toward the cell bars, noting how Dasha took a frightened step backward as he did so.
“What about you, Dasha? I’m pretty sure my not playing along with your big show trial has pissed off some serious trouble. You go on and make your threats, but if I were you, I’d be more worried about watching my own back. Everyone’s expendable, Dasha – even you.”
Both Mac and Dasha turned as the sound of more footsteps entered the hallway. Dasha’s face momentarily contorted into a sneer as she looked upon the two individuals striding toward her. Mac was surprised to see Ella and the man in the grey pinstripe suit who had been standing next to her in the courtroom, now both facing Dasha Al Marri.
“Who the hell are you?”
Dasha’s question hung betw
een herself and the two others outside Mac’s cell before Ella responded.
“You already know that, Dasha, just as I know of you and your errand girl status for the shadow government within the American White House, and as the niece to the House of Saud.”
“Watch your tongue, Jew bitch, or find it removed.”
Ella Lerner stepped toward Dasha and gave her a dangerous smile that would have given even Mac Walker pause. The Israeli Intelligence operative appeared quite ready to snap Dasha’s neck.
“You’re done here, Dasha. Run back to your masters and beg for their mercy. And if begging doesn’t work, spread your legs. I hear that is your way.”
Dasha’s right hand rose up swiftly to slap Ella’s face, but was caught in midair by Ella’s left hand as the Israeli’s fingers clamped around Dasha’s more delicate wrist.
Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection... Page 54