glance in his direction. While watching the officers, Mark almost missed the two men in suits who walked down the aisle and sat at the other small table. Mark tried to get a closer look at them, but the one nearest to him had his back turned, blocking the other man from view.
A rustle at his elbow distracted him. An older man with gray hair slicked over a bald spot slid into the chair next to him. The man leaned over and whispered, “I’m David Cox, your attorney.” and offered his hand.
Seeing the manacles when Mark made no move to return the handshake, Cox fumbled with the catches on his briefcase “My attorney?” Mark wasn’t aware he’d had one. The guy was sweating bullets and looked as if he had run a marathon before arriving.
“I’ve been working on your behalf for months. I even took your case before the U.S. District court.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow. “The government is getting pressured about all this enemy combatant status. Technically, we won our case, but-” Cox broke off and glanced at the guards behind Mark, his expression wary. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but I feel we should continue this conversation after the hearing.”
Mark nodded but couldn’t help doubting that he would actually get the chance to discuss it.
Cox withdrew a stack of papers from his briefcase and began sorting through them. “I wasn’t notified of this hearing until about an hour ago and I’m not even sure what it’s about. I’ll try for a continuance if I don’t feel prepared to answer on your behalf.”
He swallowed hard. So, he hadn’t been forgotten. “Thanks.” A voice cut through the room. A voice he recognized and one that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. It came from one of the men at the other table. Jim and Bill…shit. Mark must have made a sound because Jim broke off his conversation, his eyes meeting Mark’s. He nodded, his face impassive.
Mark faced forward with his hands in a white-knuckled clasp on the table. The men in the room busied themselves with settling in. Papers rustled, briefcases clicked, and muted conversations drifted in the heavy silence. A woman entered with a pitcher of water, Mark froze, until she began pouring it into glasses in front of each officer. Everyone had their glass filled. Mark received one too, but he could only look at it. At least he hadn’t been left out. That was something.
His knee began to jerk, the rattling clink of the leg chains loud in the small room. Cox gave him a warning look as the court was called to order.
At the long table-a man who looked vaguely familiar to Mark-addressed Jim. “Officer Sheridan, I received your report and we have discussed it at length. Thank you for clarifying some issues we had. We have come to a decision.” He shifted his focus to Mark. “Mr. Taylor, would you please rise?”
He stole a look at Jim, but the man faced the front. Was he being sentenced now? How could he be sentenced when he hadn’t been tried? Hell, he wasn’t even sure of the charges. His legs felt like jelly. Cox prodded him with an elbow, followed by a grim, “Stand.” Mark wanted to shout at him that he was trying, but instead, he shoved out of the chair and stood. He took a deep breath and raised his chin.
“Mark Taylor, this council has found insufficient evidence that you had any involvement in the events of September 11, 2001. You are to be released from custody immediately.” The man gathered his papers and he and the rest of the tribunal rose, and without so much as a nod in Mark’s direction, left the room.
His legs wobbled, and he sat hard. That was it? He was free? Mark rested his elbows on the table, propping his head in his hands as the realization sunk in. The nightmare was over. He was going home. Emotion welled up and he lowered his head onto his arms, his body shaking as he tried to suppress a sob. His head felt stuffed with cotton, and it took a moment before he heard his lawyer speaking to him. Mark swiped his eyes on his shoulder before he turned his head. “Huh?”
“I said, ‘congratulations. You’re a free man.” He clapped Mark on the back.
Mark shook his head. “It’s…it’s kind of surreal. Is it true? I’m free? They won’t take me back there?” Please, God, let it be real.
David Cox smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Yes, it’s true.”
Blinking, he tried to return the smile, but he noticed Jim stuff a large white envelope in his briefcase. What if it was a trick? After over a year in custody, now he was just free to walk out? Just like that? It didn’t make sense, and he didn’t trust them.
One of the guards stepped forward. “Stand please.”
Mark did as ordered, and when the guard removed the shackles, his whole body felt light, as though he might float to the ceiling. He rubbed his wrists and waited, hardly daring to breathe. It could be a trick, give him a taste of freedom in hopes that he’d spill his guts to stay free.
Jim approached the table and handed a stack of papers to Cox. “These need to be signed by your client.”
He made no attempt to acknowledge his former prisoner. The entire proceeding, with two exceptions, had been handled as if Mark hadn’t even been in the room.
“Okay. Give me a couple of minutes to go over these, please.” Cox accepted the packet and turned his attention to Mark. “Well, this was an unexpected turn of events. I have to tell you, I had my doubts that you would be released. The government has been hellbent on keeping enemy combatants locked up without even a trial.”
He flipped through the papers. “These look like standard documents. There’s one about your personal and business bank accounts. It looks like it might take awhile to unfreeze them.” Cox frowned. “Wait a minute…” He glared up at Jim. “What’s this? You want him to sign a statement waiving his right to pursue a lawsuit against the government?”
A muscle near Jim’s jaw tightened for a second, his mouth set in a hard line as he glanced over to Bill, who nodded in response to some unspoken question. “Apparently so.” His voice was calm.
Cox shook his head in disgust. “Could you give me a moment to confer with my client?” It was not a request.
“Certainly.” Jim moved over near Bill, but continued to observe.
“Think it over, Mark. They’ve taken away more than a year of your life, and I don’t even know what else might have happened in there.”
Jim’s face remained impassive as he waited, but his hand tighten on the handle of his briefcase. If Mark signed, it meant never getting a chance to get justice for what they did to him. Would they send him back to prison if he refused? Could they do that? He glanced over his shoulder. The guards were gone, but they could be lurking out in the hall. It wasn’t much of a choice. In fact, it was no choice at all. His heart hammered and he looked from Jim back to Cox. He couldn’t take a chance when freedom was so close.
“Give me a pen.”
When he finished, he set the pen down and ran a hand through his hair. It was official. Mark let out a shaky breath.
Jim set his briefcase on the table and pulled out a lumpy envelope and extended it towards Mark. “Here.”
Mark flinched, but didn’t take the package. He wanted to ask what was in it, but his throat spasmed as the possibility that he might truly be free began to sink in.
“Go ahead. It’s just your wallet and personal effects you had when you were taken into custody.”
Mark’s hands shook as he tore the envelope open and flipped it over. His wallet, keys and even some loose change tumbled onto the table, along with a white letter-sized envelope. Thumbing through his wallet, he was surprised to see that there was about eighty dollars in it. He pocketed the billfold, keys and change. He stared at the envelope for a moment before pushing it back towards Jim. “I don’t think this is mine…sir.” What if they had planted some evidence in there? As soon as he touched it, they would say that he claimed it, and must be guilty.
Shoving it back, Jim snapped, “Take it. You’re going to need it.”
“Yes, sir.” Swallowing hard, Mark picked it up.
“I’ll see what it is.” Cox reached over and took it from him and opened it. “There’s a plane ticket to Chicago.” He squinted at the ticket. “The flight leaves in just a few hours.” He pulled out a stack of bills. “And some cash. Eight hundred dollars.”
Mark shot a look at Cox. “That’s not mine.” He rose, backing away with his hands raised, palms outward.
“Listen, it’s just money for food and lodging for a few days until you get settled.” Jim clicked his briefcase
