Just as she finally began to gain control of herself, Marissa’s eyes welled.
“Try to pull yourself together,” Robert told her.
Marissa glanced at Wendy, who had her head down, her face pressed into a tissue. Every so often her shoulders would shake.
Gustave, who was sitting next to her, put a hand on his wife’s shoulder.
At the conference table in the center of the room sat a no nonsense woman of about forty-five years of age. She wasn’t happy to be there, as she’d let everyone know. She’d been pulled from her bed in the middle of the night. On the table in front of her was one of the many forms that had been filled out that night.
She was completing it with exaggerated strokes of her pen.
Glancing at her watch, the woman raised her head.
“So where’s the bail bondsman?” she asked.
“He has been called, Madam Magistrate,” Mr. Freeborn assured her.
“I’m certain he will be here momentarily.”
“If not, these ladies are going back into the lockup,” the magistrate threatened.
“Just because they can afford a high-priced lawyer doesn’t mean they should be treated any differently by the law.”
“Absolutely,” Mr. Freeborn agreed.
“I spoke with the baifll bondsman myself. He will be here immediately, I assure you.”
Marissa shuddered. She’d never been in jail before, and she didn’t want to go. The experience that evening had been overwhelming.
She’d even been handcuffed and strip-searched.
When the fire department had arrived at the Women’s Clinic, she and Wendy had been ecstatic. The flailing hose had kept the security guard at bay. But along with the firefighters had come the police, and the police had listened to the guard. In the end, Marissa and Wendy had been arrested and led away in handcuffs.
First they’d been taken to the Cambridge police station where they had been read their rights a second time, booked, fingerprinted, and photographed. After they’d been allowed to call their husbands, they were put into the police station lockup.
They’d even had to endure the indignities of using exposed toilets.
Later on, Marissa and Wendy had been taken from the police station cells, re-handcuffed, and driven to the Middlesex County Courthouse, where they had been reincarcerated in a more serious appearing jail. There they’d been given dry prison garb to replace the wet clothes they’d had on.
The magistrate was kept waiting another ten minutes before the bail bondsman arrived. He was an overweight, balding man.
He entered carrying a vinyl briefcase.
The bondsman strode directly to the conference table, placing his briefcase on it with a resounding thud.
“Hello, Gertrude,” he said, addressing the magistrate. He released the latch on his case.
“Did you walk here, Harold?” asked the magistrate.
“What are you talking about?” said the bondsman.
“I live out near Somerville Hospital. How could I walk here?”
“I was being sarcastic,” the magistrate said with a disgusted expression.
“Forget it. Here are the bail and bond orders for these two ladies. They are for ten thousand each.”
The bondsman took the papers. He was impressed and pleased.
“Wow, ten thousand!” he said.
“What did they do, hit the Bay Bank in Harvard Square?”
“Just about,” said the magistrate.
“They’re to be arraigned by Judge Burano on Monday morning for breaking and entering, trespass, malicious destruction of property, larceny through unauthorized computer entry and theft of private files, and…” The magistrate consulted the form in front of her.
“Oh, yes! Assault and battery. Apparently they beat up on a security guard.”
“That’s not true,” Marissa yelled, unable to contain herself.
Her sudden outburst brought fresh tears. She blurted out that it had been the other way around: the guards had attacked them.
“And Paul Abrums, a retired policeman, will testify to it,” she added.
“Marissa, shut up!” Robert said. He still couldn’t believe his wife’s escapade.
The magistrate glared at Marissa.
“You are perhaps forgetting that Mr. Abrums is also a defendant in this action and will be facing the same charges when he gets out of the hospital.”
“Mrs. Buchanan is very upset,” Mr. Freeborn said.
“That’s obvious,” the magistrate said.
“Which one’s Buchanan and which is Anderson?” the bondsman asked, coming over to the men.