Long Beach Naval Hospital became a semi-famous hospital back in the late seventies when President Carter had a drunk brother who needed drying out. Not good public relations to be the Prez and have a brother who would get drunk and piss along side the road. But he was just a good old boy having fun. Good old Billy C.
Jake Morrow wasn’t quite as famous, but he was getting his share of the press these day. There were several government agencies who were doing their best to try to explain to the media why the man who had just been recently portrayed in the Navy Times as unjustly accused and railroaded for a murder he did not commit, was found with a compound fractured leg, hanging on for dear life to a bridge piling in Long Beach (California) harbor. Wasn’t he suppose to be in a cell in Leavenworth (Kansas)?
Jake was in the security unit at the hospital with an armed guard at his door. Security precautions were tight for his both his protection and for reasons brought forth by the government. Some one had to figure out just what the hell was going on!
His leg was encased in a large cast and was elevated up off the bed. Jake had no recollection of hitting the water or swimming over to the pilings and hanging on for almost a half an hour. Nor of the Coast Guard rescue crew pulling him into their boat. He remembered cursing Jerry Banks and stepping off the bridge and that was it.
For the first four days, he had passed in and out of consciousness, there was no recollection of even going into surgery to have his badly damaged leg screwed and grafted together. Now he laid in his soft bed, mellowly stoned on legal drugs. Nurses came in to fluff his pillows and giggle at his stupid jokes, all the while treating him like some sort of celebrity. The guard had come into his room on Friday night to watch the fights with him. Later that same evening he had talked the cute little corpsman who came into check his blood pressure and temp to give him a excellent hand job with cocoa butter.
Jake was waiting for the world to fall out from underneath him. For some reason he was not allowed access to newspapers, a radio, and was allowed to watch television only if some one was in the room with him. No one talked about what had brought him there.
So he figured the worst was about to happen, but there was no need to not enjoy himself until that happened.
First thing Monday morning, in walked a trio of trouble.
The guard and Jake had been drinking coffee while goofing on that Kathy Lee bimbo on TV, when the door slammed behind them. The guard’s face had gone lily white, he had shut off the TV, and rushed out the door and back to his station.
Jake's visitors included a stern looking navy captain from the JAG office who was wearing the worst toupee that Jake had ever seen. He also had one of those little mustaches that was trimmed down to just the top of the captains lip. Jake wondered why you would even make the effort to have it.
He was followed by one of his flunkies. A perverted looking, first class navy yeoman, with bottle thick glasses and beady little eyes, who resembled the actor Wally Cox. Obviously, he was the stenographer, as he went over into a corner and set up his little steno machine. To Jake, he seemed like a guy you might walk in and catch screwing a blow up doll.
It was the woman though who was definitely in charge. She was dressed in a pants suit, with her hair done up in a bun, and she had the start of a better mustache than the captain. Although she had a giant pair of jugs that were straining to bust out her jacket, her appearance screamed out bull dyke.
She flipped out her badge and flashed it to Jake as the captain, without saying a word, took a seat next to the stenographer.
“Mr. Morrow, I’m Nancy Foley, Federal Bureau of Investigations. This is Captain Putnam, Judge Advocate General’s office. And our stenographer, Petty Officer Cox.”
Jake burst out laughing.
She ignored him. “There is no need to waste time by discussing why we are here. I’m sure you are well aware that these incredible circumstances that you have been involved in recently have perked the interests of many parties. We are here to ask some questions of you and to try to get to the bottom of this. Before we start, do you need the presence of an attorney?”
Jake grabbed the monkey bar that was hanging over his bed, pulled himself up, and adjusted a pillow behind his back.
“Not if he’s a military lawyer.”
She smirked. “Mr. Morrow, you received a dishonorable discharge from the military. You can receive no veterans benefits, that includes legal representation.”
“I don’t have any money to pay for one.”
“The state of California could appoint you one.”
Jake was silent for a moment. “What am I being charged with?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Yet! I’m not being charged, yet! You better read me my rights first before you start to ask your questions.”
Another smirk. “Mr. Morrow, are you something of a jailhouse lawyer?”
“Not in the least. But I know when I’m about to get fucked again. Ya see, its happened to me more than once.”
Foley turned to the stenographer with a weary sigh. “Read him his rights.”
The second that Cox finished his reading of Jake’s rights, Agent Foley jumped in again. “Is your name Jacob Thaddeus Morrow?”
“Yes.”
“Were you at one time a member of the United States Navy?”
“Yes.”
“Were you stationed at one time in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii? “Yes.” This was getting fucking ridiculous.
“Did you stop the rape of the attempted rape of one Mary Givens in Pearl Harbor Naval housing?”
Jake sat up. “Who?” His voice squeaked. Foley glanced over at the JAG captain. “Mary Givens,” she repeated.
“You know who she is?” whispered Jake.
“Did you murder Ensign Raymond Dunn.”
“No.”
“But you admit that he died because of the beating that he received from you?”
“He was trying to rape the girl. It was an accident. I was just trying to help her.”
Agent Foley reached into her briefcase and pulled out a Navy Times and handed it to Jake. “Please read this highlighted article.”
After Jake was done with the article he threw it onto his night stand. He turned his head away from the agent. “That fucker knew. He knew the whole goddamn time.”
Foley quietly walked around the bed and stood in front of Jake. “Who knew the whole time, Jake?”
“Banks. That son of a bitch. I should have broken his neck when I had the chance.”
Foley looked over a the captain again. “Mr. Morrow, Special Agent Banks is dead. He was killed shortly after you jumped off the Vincent Thomas bridge in a shootout with members of the San Pedro police department.” She paused, “Was it Jerry Banks who got you out of Leavenworth?”
Jake stared at the wall.
“Did Commander Max Morgan aid in your release from Leavenworth? Was he working with Special Agent Banks?”
Silence.
“What was their reasoning on gaining your release?” Jake looked up at Agent Foley and smiled.
“I think I need to call an attorney.”