Chapter 21
Shantarius
We arrive at the courthouse at 2:30 p.m. on Monday afternoon and are greeted by a small clump of people in the parking lot across the street where we had arranged to meet. I smile when I see Philip—one of my co-workers. He comes over and helps me and Greg retrieve the protest signs from the back of our car.
“Thanks for coming, Philip,” Greg says. “We really do appreciate this.”
“No problem. Glad I can help.”
The three of us distribute the various signs to the seven or eight people huddled around the back of our car. Over the next thirty minutes, our ranks swell to around twenty people, most of whom I don’t even know. I recognize six of them, far short of the twenty I called personally, and the over three hundred ‘friends’ I have on my social media accounts, at least half of whom I’m sure have read my post about the protest by now. You find out who your real friends are in a crisis like this. Some of the people who show up are the last ones I thought would stick their necks out for me or my family. Some of the ones who don’t show I was sure would do anything for me. Go figure.
A new arrival walks over to us and extends their hand.
“Hi, I’m Sven.”
He has a large-ish black box under his arm, secured with a thick nylon strap that’s looped over his shoulder. He holds a matching wireless megaphone in one hand.
“Hi, Sven, you’re the human rights activist with that popular channel, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Thank you so much for helping organize this,” I respond, embarrassed that I didn’t recognize him from his nametag. “You don’t know how much this means to us.” I almost start to cry but choke it back. I have to remain strong for Tam’s sake.
“No worries. Glad I can help. Listen. We were planning to address the volunteers in our group at 3:30 p.m. from the courthouse steps. I’ll have one of my team filming everything so we can post it online. If you could come up there with me and just say a few words before you go into the courthouse, that would be great.”
“Absolutely,” I say.
Soon, our lawyer, Janye, arrives, and we have a short conference about what will happen once we’re inside. Around 3:20, Sven begins directing the troops, telling them where to stand, how to act, and what to do or not do. He gives a short pep talk, then we all walk across the street to the courthouse. I’m encouraged to see that there must be about twenty-five people here now. Some of the latecomers I recognize, and a bit of my faith is restored in our friends. Then the protest begins in earnest. As promised, Sven steps to the front, towards the top of the steps, and begins to speak into the megaphone. His words blare out into the crowd and across the street into the parking lot.
“Today, we’re here to support a fellow human being, Tamika Usarian—a minor who was arrested without their parents being notified and held in a secret location. Now the government wants to use enhanced interrogation techniques on them, all because they attended a reveal party. Are we gonna sit by and let them do that?”
A round of loud boos and no’s come from the crowd.
“Are we gonna stand by while this government takes more and more of what little freedoms we have left and tells us who we can talk to, what we can say, and tortures us at will?”
A louder round of similar responses rises from the crowd.
“I have Tam’s parents here. Shantarius, how does it make you feel to know that Tam has been treated like this?”
“I feel scared . . . scared and angry. I know Tam is probably feeling abandoned and alone. But if you can hear me, Tam, know that you aren’t alone! Your dad and I and all these people are here to fight for justice! We’re here to stop these monsters and get you set free!”
The crowd roars. I’m surprised at the anger and strength of my own voice. I see Greg smiling and nodding his head as I turn toward him after I speak. He mouths the words, good job to me, then we turn and follow our lawyer into the courthouse to the cheers of the protesters behind us.
Once we make our way through the gauntlet of scanners and security guards, we finally arrive at a small office that’s already crowded with other people. Janye tells us to wait outside while she goes in and finds out which courtroom the hearing will be in. She returns after just a few minutes, and I can tell from her avatar that she doesn’t have good news.
“They moved the hearing up. It’s already over. They didn’t notify my office.”
“What?” Greg asks. “How can they do that? That can’t be legal.”
“It isn’t—not unless they have evidence of terrorist activity, which I can’t imagine they do.”
“We can’t let them do this,” I say.
“We’re gonna stop them. Come with me.”
We go through a maze of hallways and end up in a posh office with lots of expensive woodwork and leather furniture. Janye marches up to the receptionist’s desk and addresses the person sitting behind it.
“I want to see Judge Kertujan right now.”
Her voice is firm, no-nonsense. She means business. I’m glad we have her on our side.
“I’m sorry, the judge is not available right no—“
“—He just handed down a decision to allow a minor child with no legal representation to be interrogated with phase two techniques. I’m sure the protesters gathered outside right now would love to hear this. I’m also pretty sure that the judge and the mayor wouldn’t like the pushback they’re gonna get if I don’t get to speak to the judge right . . . now.”
Her words have the desired effect, and the receptionist has a pointed conversation with someone, whom I expect is the judge, outlining the salient points of Janye’s address.
“Yes, sir. No, sir, I don’t think so. Just the three of them. Yes, sir. Right away.”
She looks up at the three of us and manages an apologetic smile.
“Judge Kertujan will see you now.”
“Thank you,” Janye announces triumphantly as we’re buzzed into the judge’s chambers. She marches up to the judge, whose seated behind an imposing desk. He’s a large person, and the black robe makes him look intimidating. His avatar displays a somber expression as he rises to greet us. He doesn’t wait for Janye to repeat the speech she gave the receptionist as he shakes her hand.
“I understand we have a troubling situation here. I’m very sorry for any confusion that might exist, and I’ll do what I can to help sort this out. Now, just to let you know, this hearing was only moved up because it was reported that Tamika Usarian likely had evidence of a planned terrorist act.”
“What?!” Greg asks.
“Under existing law, the prosecutor has the right to request enhanced interrogation in a closed hearing so that evidence of any planned terrorist attack is kept secret. But I will say, the paperwork I have indicates that Tamika is eighteen. Is that not correct?”
Janye flips open her briefcase, produces a copy of Tam’s birth certificate, and hands it to the judge. He studies it closely.
“I see,” he says grimly.
“Based on this evidence, I’m going to issue an immediate injunction to stop the interrogation until my office can thoroughly review all evidence presented in this case.”
I exhale and feel the tension drain away from my shoulders.
“Thank you,” Janye responds, turning to smile at us and give a small nod.
I see the phone icon appear in the bottom corner of the judge’s viewscreen.
“This is Judge Kertujan. Get me Warden Jenkins, A.S.A.P. . . . I don’t care that he’s in a meeting. You get him on the phone right now, or he’ll be cleaning out cafeteria trays for his next job, and I doubt you’ll fare any better.”
Two minutes pass as we wait, and then. . . .
“Warden Jenkins? Judge Kertujan here at the federal courthouse. You have prisoner—” The judge scrolls rapidly through the data on his tablet computer, “—00XJ5, that has been scheduled for phase two interrogation under false pretenses. I’m calling to personally let you know that I’m issuing an injunction to stop that interrogation until the evidence can be thoroughly reviewed. I have new evidence that the prisoner is a minor, and if so, then I don’t have to tell you what kind of a crap-storm will come down on all of us if that prisoner is interrogated at phase two. . . . That’s right. Thank you. I’ll have the injunction posted to his case in ten minutes.”
The call disconnects, and the judge faces us again.
“I’m extremely disturbed by these allegations, which appear to be completely valid. I assure you that I will get to the bottom of it, but right now, I’ll need to make a few phone calls to get this going, as I’m sure you understand.”
Turning to face Janye, he continues.
“If you’ll leave all your contact information with the receptionist, I’ll keep you in the loop regarding all future proceedings.”
He extends his large hand out across the desk to Greg and then to me.
“I’m very sorry this happened, folks. And as I said, I will get to the bottom of it.”
“When will we get to see Tam?” I ask.
“The sooner I get working on this, the sooner you’ll get to see Tam.”
Janye is already ushering us out of the office.
“The best thing we can do now is let the judge take things from here,” she says. “I’m sure as soon as things are straightened out, you’ll be able to see Tam—probably within the next twenty-four hours. In cases like this, as his lawyer, I’ll most likely be seeing him within the next few hours.”
She gives her contact details to the receptionist and leads us out into the hall, where she explains how things are likely to proceed. I’m in a daze. How could this happen? How could things get so mixed up? How could Tam be involved in any kind of terrorist activity? In my heart, I don’t believe it’s true, but right now, I just want to see him and make sure he’s okay.
