Never-ending-snake

by Thurlo, David

  She’d been played, but the game wasn’t over. “Thanks, Joe.”

  Ella walked down to the interview rooms and met Justine by the closed door. They could see Emerson inside, sitting alone in front of the bolted-down table. He was killing time cleaning his fingernails.

  Stepping away from the interview room door, Ella updated Justine, adding, “Did you check Emerson’s whereabouts when the incident at Abigail’s went down?”

  “Yeah, and his alibi is rock solid. Emerson went with his son-in-law and daughter to a prayer meeting at The Good Shepherd.”

  “Ford’s church?” She stared at her partner for a second. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Chester’s a member, and he takes his wife and father-in-law with him to church from time to time.”

  Before Ella could process it, someone entering the hall called out her name.

  “Special Investigator Clah!”

  She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. “Shoot me now,” Ella muttered, closing her eyes for a moment, then opening them again.

  Norm Hattery caught up to them a second later. “I hear that you’ve arrested Emerson Lee. What are the charges?”

  “Assaulting an officer,” Ella said. “And you’re not allowed in this part of the station without an escort, Mr. Hattery.”

  “I’m with you right now. Getting back to my question, I’ve heard that he was trying to run off a coyote and you just happened to be in the area,” he countered.

  “You’ve been lied to, and you should be careful about reporting a false statement as factual,” Ella snapped, walking away from the interview rooms, knowing he’d follow.

  “Where do you stand on the Prickly Weed Project issue?” he asked, undeterred. “And do you think what happened today is connected to the shooting that cost Adam Lonewolf his life?”

  “At this point, I can’t say one way or the other,” Ella answered through her teeth. “And you need to leave this area now. Otherwise, I’m going to have you escorted out of the station.”

  “About Adam Lonewolf—”

  Ella held up one hand. “I have work to do. Excuse me.” Without giving him the chance to say another word, she held a side door open for Hattery, then urged him out. Once he was gone, Justine and she went back down the restricted corridor to the interview rooms.

  As they stepped into the mirrored room, Emerson grinned widely. “Good seeing you again, ladies.”

  Ella sat across the table from him, and seeing the look on his face, realized she’d been played all the way back to the episode at the parking lot involving Begaye’s sedan. “You made a big mistake taking that shot at us,” she said, her unwavering gaze on him.

  “It was a mistake. I’d never shoot at people. I was trying to chase away a coyote.”

  Ella glared at him. “That’s not what you said before.”

  “You obviously misunderstood me,” he said with a ghost of a smile. “When do I get my attorney?” he added. “That’s in all the police shows on TV, and when you told me about my rights, you said I could have one if I wanted. So I’m asking. I’d like a lawyer.”

  “I can take you to a telephone, or have a clerk make the call for you. Who’s your attorney?” Ella asked him in an ice cold voice.

  “I don’t have one yet. I haven’t got any money, just my Social Security check, so the tribe will have to pay for the lawyer. But he better be a good one. I have a lot of relatives and they’ll be watching over me.”

  “The tribe will provide you with an attorney,” Ella said, and as she stood to leave, Emerson continued.

  “I’m not your enemy, you know. I’m trying to protect all of us. Every time Anglo industries come here, the land—and us—pay the price in contaminated soil, water, or air. Think about it. How many years did the bilagáanas spend among us before we discovered that their uranium tailings were killing The People?”

  “The Prickly Weed Project isn’t like that,” Justine said.

  “You’re not thinking far enough ahead. Just wait until they decide that the weed doesn’t grow fast enough, or doesn’t have enough of whatever they want it to have. Then they’ll start adding things to the water, or the soil, or maybe use sprays on it. That’ll continue until they get tired of what they’re doing here. Once that happens, they’ll take off, and we’ll be the ones who have to cope with the mess they leave behind. If we don’t learn from the past, we’ll keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again.”

  There was no trace of the crazy old man they’d met before. Ella regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment. “You took a shot at me and my partner,” she repeated. “Why?”

  “No, it’s like I told you, I was trying to run off some coyotes,” he replied with a grin. “And you weren’t hurt.”

  Ella swallowed her anger and in a calm voice continued. “How do you feel about the war hero, particularly since he was fighting for the Prickly Weed Project?”

  Emerson took a deep breath. “He risked his life for our tribe and our country, and that’s worthy of respect. But somewhere along the way he forgot he’s not a bilagáana.”

  “So you considered him your enemy?” Justine pressed.

  Emerson didn’t answer right away. “An enemy is someone who purposely tries to hurt you knowing the consequences of his actions. That wasn’t the case with the hero. He just didn’t realize the real cost of what he was trying to sell.”

  “The cost to himself, you mean?” Ella asked leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table.

  “I didn’t know that someone was going to shoot him, if that’s what you’re really asking me. But he was involved in something that affects, or will affect, a lot of people. Actions like his always have consequences.”

  “Who do you think may have wanted him dead?” Ella asked.

  “No one in my clan,” he answered firmly. “Ours isn’t that kind of fight. What happened to him . . . it had to do with something else. That’s what I think.”

  Ella stood up and signaled Justine to follow. They were passing through the lobby moments later when Norm Hattery rose from one of the chairs and joined them.

  Ella felt her muscles tense. “What can we do for you now?”

  He shook his head. “It’s what I can do for you,” he countered smoothly. “Just so you know I’m not working against the police, I’m going to pass along a tip. The Salt People Clan pulled a lot of strings and managed to get Judge Goodluck for the arraignment this afternoon. Court will convene in an hour. And you better hang on to your hat, because Lee’s clan, the Salt People, are coming out in full force. There’s a rumor that they’ve even managed to get Reverend Tome to speak on behalf of the defendant.”

  “When did all this happen?” Ella asked him.

  “Almost as soon as you arrested him. And here’s another heads-up. You questioned Lee before an attorney was present, and that’s going to cost you.”

  “I read him his rights, and he waived representation at that time. Where are you getting your information?” Ella demanded.

  “My sources are confidential, but I’ll be happy to pass on information you might find useful if you agree to reciprocate. You could start by telling me what you think happened to Adam Lonewolf. Who wanted him dead?”

  “I won’t comment on an ongoing investigation,” Ella growled, nodding to the duty officer and motioning toward the door.

  While Hattery was being escorted from the building, Ella and Justine walked down to Ella’s office. “I underestimated Emerson badly. He’s one crafty old man,” Ella said, shutting the door behind them. “I need to start carrying a recorder again for times like this.”

  “I still do, so we can prove you read him his rights, and he waived counsel, if it comes to that,” Justine said, pointing to the small device in her shirt pocket.

  “Good. Now, what do you think we’ll be facing at this arraignment?”

  “Grandpa G’s a New Traditionalist who believes our land is a living entity with rights, and that The People are i
ts caretakers. When he hears that the Salt People Clan are trying to protect our Earth Mother, there’s no telling how he’ll rule.”

  “This arraignment isn’t about the land, or a cause. It’s about someone taking a shot at two law enforcement officers.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, but there are other factors—”

  Hearing a knock at her door, Ella went to open it. Her boss, Big Ed, was standing there.

  “We have a crowd of about sixty outside,” he said. “They’re holding up signs that read things like ‘Save the Land’ and ‘Begaye=Betray.’ There are even a few with the ever-popular ‘Police Brutality,’ ” he added sarcastically. “Hattery’s out there, too, getting quotes from anyone with a pulse. Camera crews are rumored to be on the way.”

  “Wonderful,” Ella muttered.

  “Reverend Tome arrived about five minutes ago. He’s trying to keep people calm,” Big Ed added.

  “Is it working?” Justine asked.

  “Not from what I can see. The demonstrators are trying to provoke a confrontation with the police so they can use it to publicize their cause.”

  Hearing another knock at her door, Ella looked up and was surprised to see Ford standing there.

  “Things are getting really tense out in the parking lot, and the situation is going to get out of hand real soon unless someone in authority goes to speak to the crowd,” he said as he entered the room. “Trina Morgan made an impassioned speech saying that this is a classic example of big government taking away the rights—and property—of the working class. She’s got her people fired up.”

  “What could we possibly say to them that would diffuse this now?” Ella asked, running an exasperated hand through her hair.

  “Insist that Emerson’s arrest has nothing to do with the land issue. Emerson fired on two police officers, that’s against the law, and he needs to answer for that in court,” Ford said.

  “Do you think that’ll calm them?” Big Ed asked, his doubts reflected clearly in his voice.

  “It’ll help settle people down some,” Ford said. “But I’ve got a feeling that crowd’s going to stay right where it is until Emerson’s released on bail.”

  “He’s facing a serious charge,” Justine said. “He may not get bail.”

  “He will,” Ford said. “They have a string of people—including me—who’ll vouch for his character. Emerson’s many things, but he’s not a murderer.”

  “You think it’s okay for an old man with questionable eyesight to fire a high-powered rifle at two police officers?” Ella demanded, her eyes shooting daggers at Ford. “Just what makes that okay? The fact that he was hoping to miss? That bullet came real close to us.”

  “What he did was dangerous and stupid, but he wasn’t out to hurt anyone,” Ford said, his voice purposely soft and low. “A little forgiveness could restore some calm, and that’s badly needed now.”

  “You’re being manipulated. He’s not the crazy old man he pretends to be. Are you aware of that?” Ella countered.

  “I know. He mostly plays the part because it buys him some leeway. People don’t expect much from an elderly man they believe has the beginnings of dementia,” Ford answered. “But here’s the thing—it’s not completely an act. He has his crazy moments. You’ve seen that yourself.”

  “Then what makes you so sure he’s not capable of murder?” Big Ed countered.

  “I trust my instincts. In my current line of work—and my previous one—I developed the ability to read people accurately, and I’m good at it.” As he spoke, he looked directly at Ella.

  He held her gaze and something in his eyes made Ella wonder if he knew about Kevin, but this wasn’t the time to probe.

  “Emerson’s a sad, simple man,” Ford continued. “Before the tribe made it clear they wanted to take away most of his daughter’s land, he’d led a quiet life. He was content with his tiny garden and the couple of fruit trees there. He had all he wanted and was coasting through the final years of his life. Then the tribe stepped in and everything changed. His wife’s land was the only important thing either of them ever had to leave to Trina. That’s why he decided to fight back. He figured that if his clan could make enough noise, the politicians would feel the weight of public pressure and rethink their positions.”

  “So that’s why he took a shot at us?” Justine asked. “For the publicity?”

  “Yes, I’m convinced of it,” Ford answered. “Look at the gathering outside. Do you know it’s going to hit the national news?”

  Ella sighed. “Just what we need, right in the middle of our most public case in years.”

  “At the last chapter house meeting the Morgans and Garnenez were told to work out an agreement between themselves,” Ford said. “But the Morgans refused to meet with Billy. They wanted to push this issue out into the open and create as much controversy as possible.”

  “I’ll go talk to the crowd, but nobody takes a shot at my officers and gets a free pass,” Big Ed said.

  Once Big Ed left, Ella glanced at Ford. “Do the Morgans want you at the chapter house meeting?”

  “No, just the opposite. They’re hoping it gets out of hand, which could bring in even more support from across the Navajo Nation. Either way, it’s going to provide a lot of fodder for the regional press and media.”

  Ford went back outside but, knowing that dealing with the media wasn’t what she did best, Ella remained in her office.

  For the next thirty minutes, she worked on gathering background information on all the people associated with the Prickly Weed Project. Frustrated by her slow progress, she finally leaned back in her chair and rubbed her aching neck.

  The problem with this case was that it crossed lines between personal and business. Ella thought of Kevin back at her home, then about Ford, here in the center of the conflict. Both men were a part of her life and each wanted her—but only on their own terms.

  As Justine walked in, Ella brought her focus back onto the case. “The arraignment’s been moved up again and it will start in another twenty,” Justine said. “The crowd out front is heading to the courthouse. You ready to go over there, too?”

  Ella let her breath out in a hiss. “No, but we better get going anyway.”

  “Do you want to enter the courthouse through the back?”

  Ella shook her head. “The prisoner, in this case Emerson, will be brought in that way because it’s the most direct route. I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts that the crowd and the reporters will all be there. You and I should go in through the front.”

  Less than five minutes later they arrived at the courthouse, and as Ella had predicted, the crowd had gathered out back. Ella and Justine left the SUV and strode quickly to the front entrance.

  Suddenly Norm Hattery came out the door, mike in hand and cameraman beside him. “Special Investigator Clah, do you think Mr. Lee should be shown leniency by the court because of extenuating circumstances?”

  “Mr. Lee fired at two tribal police officers with a hunting rifle. The court will decide what to do about the charges.”

  “But how do you feel about it?”

  “My job is to arrest anyone who breaks the law, and that’s what I’ve done. The legal system will decide what to do next.”

  “Meaning that if the court lets the accused back out onto the streets, it’s not your fault?”

  She stopped in mid-stride and faced him squarely. “Mr. Hattery, do not put words in my mouth. I told you exactly what I meant.”

  Not giving him a chance to come back at her, Ella pushed her way past him and into the building.

  “Phew,” Justine muttered. “For a minute or two I thought you were going to shove the microphone up his—you know what.”

  “I considered it,” Ella grumbled.

  “We better hurry,” Justine said, gesturing ahead. “Court’s about to go into session.”

  Ella and Justine sat in the last row and stood as Judge Goodluck entered the courtroom. Seconds later as they sat back down, E
lla glanced over to the defendant’s table and saw Emerson Lee’s attorney for the first time.

  Martin Tallman, called “the hammerhead” for his wide, flat forehead and his shark-like demeanor, sat beside the defendant. Tallman, a young, ambitious attorney, always made it a point to get involved with cases that brought him publicity. This case was practically made to order for him, so she had no doubt that he’d volunteered his services.

  As the proceedings got underway, the charges were read and Judge Goodluck looked at the defendant. “How do you plead?”

  Tallman stood. “Not guilty, Your Honor.”

  Judge Goodluck’s gaze took in the crowded courtroom, then focused back on the defendant. “Mr. Lee, do you understand the charges against you?”

  Emerson stood up then and, oblivious to his attorney, spoke. “Your Honor, I’m sorry. I had no idea it was illegal now to shoot at coyotes.”

  “Do you have a hearing problem, Mr. Lee? You’re charged with shooting at two tribal police officers, not coyotes.”

  “That’s not what happened, Judge. The officers stepped in the way after I’d taken aim at that danged coyote. He’s been hunting my daughter’s sheep.”

  Tallman stood. “Your Honor, this is clearly a misunderstanding. We’re asking that you dismiss the charges.”

  “I have no patience for games, Counselor,” Judge Goodluck said. “You’ll have the opportunity to present your defense during trial. The clerk will set the date for the hearing.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “Since Mr. Lee has long ties to the community and no criminal record, I’m going to set bail in the amount of two thousand dollars—cash only.”

  Outside the Rez this would have seemed ridiculously low, but on the Rez it was a princely sum. Ella glanced at Justine, who shrugged and shook her head.

  “But I’m going to set down some additional conditions, Mr. Lee. If you wish to avoid having your bail revoked, you must attend tonight’s East Fruitland Chapter House meeting. You’ll discuss the issues peacefully and in good faith, and reach an agreement with the tribe concerning the land issues currently under consideration. This has gone on for too long.” Judge GoodIuck glanced around the courtroom and his gaze fastened on Ford. “Reverend Tome, I’d like you to serve as chairman throughout the land issue segment of that meeting. Your job would be to maintain an orderly discussion. Will you agree to this?”