Sri Lanka, Queens

The brother-in-law knows the kid is nuts. Harry senses an ally as the man says nothing, listening, while Harry talks to the father and the uncle of the young man who was arrested for harassing a local Congressman and his staff. He smiles to himself every time they protest when Harry tells them something that is inherently true. They question everything Harry says, frequently asking the same question four or five times in subtle variation. Harry finds himself wondering if all Sri Lankans are like this. This is his first experience with them. They remind him of Indians, especially their accent.

Harry got called on this one late Thursday afternoon. He was supposed to have dinner with his ex-girlfriend's husband and their son-in-law at 6:45 at Peter Luger's in Brooklyn. He had driven to the office, instead of taking the train as he usually did, just so he could drive them to the restaurant and bring them home. The Sri Lankan kid had been arrested in Queens. Harry told the uncle that he would call them when he was through with dinner and would then make arrangements to meet them at the courthouse on his way home. They would have his money and Harry would file a Notice of Appearance and visit the detainee in Central Booking, which was in the basement of the courthouse. Things were working out swimmingly.

That night, Harry enjoyed the world's best steak with the husband of a woman who had been his long-time lover. Harry took no pleasure in dwelling on this little oddity. The husband had known about Harry and his wife, because it had turned up in an FBI investigation when he'd applied for top-secret clearance a number of years ago. The agent had come to him privately and revealed that he had tailed his wife and Harry all over Manhattan for a number of days. This was probably not much of a revelation, since she had stopped sleeping with him years before and she and Harry'd had a fairly indiscreet relationship for ten years. During that time, Harry had been a frequent visitor to their house in Florida. As far as the husband was concerned, Harry's only drawbacks were that he didn't play golf and he wouldn't join him in smoking one of the macanudos that Harry always brought as a house gift. They never discussed his wife.

After dinner, Harry dropped him and his new son-in-law in Manhattan and looked for a pay phone. He was running late. When he called the father's house, the man's wife informed him that her husband, brother-in-law and son-in-law had gotten nervous and gone to the courthouse to look for him. Harry could just picture the hand wringing and pacing of the three men, even though he had never seen them in person. He was annoyed by this blatant disregard of his instructions. It made no sense, because they didn't have a clue as to where to look for him when they got there. Harry jumped back in the car and headed over the Triborough Bridge.

He parked near the side entrance of the Queens County Criminal Court. It seemed remarkably deserted, even though night court should have been in session. He could see three small figures, back-lit by the lights from inside the glass doors. He knew it had to be them. They were wringing their hands and pacing, just as he had pictured. They spotted Harry and hurried over to him.

"Are you Mr. Kresge?"

Harry laughed. He had made up his mind not to let them drive him crazy.

It turned out that they were in the wrong place. They had moved night court to a newly constructed wing which was on the opposite side of the building. Harry quick-stepped around the front of the building, down Queens Boulevard with them strung out behind him like ducklings. When they got to the courtroom in the new wing, the Judge was on dinner break.

They wouldn't let all of the family through the airport style security system, because they had brought a meal with them in a brown paper bag. There is no food allowed in the courtrooms. The brother-in-law was elected to wait outside with the food. Harry was willing to bet that they had planned to ask him to pass dinner to their precious little terrorist, but it never came up. At some point, they must have lost their nerve, probably when they were confronted by the stiff security. Harry filed his Notice of Appearance with the lone court officer they had left to hold down the fort and got instructions on how to get to Central Booking, which had also been moved. It was around the back of the building.

In the hallway outside the courtroom, Harry asked the father for his retainer.

"What does this mean, retainer?"

Harry had to explain that this meant he wanted his money. He was handed five new hundreds. He counted them and stuffed them into his billfold. They formed up and marched duck-style to the rear entrance.

"Can we go to see him?"

"No you have to wait here. They only let attorney's inside"

"Oh, so we cannot see him?"

"That's right. You cannot see him, until they bring him to court."

"Oh, so they won't even let one of us see him, then?"

"That is correct."

"Oh, so not even his father can see him, eh?"

Harry remembered his promise not to let them drive him nuts. His resolve was chastened by the crisp bills in his wallet.

He went through the usual police rigmarole in order to gain entrance to the inner sanctum. When he finally found a cop he felt he could talk to, Harry asked him if he thought the kid was nuts.

"It's a strong possibility," the cop laughed. "He's refused to be finger-printed."

This was bad news. The young man had been arrested at twelve noon. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have expected him to come before the arraigning judge sometime the next morning. It was now 10:00 p.m. and he hadn't been printed yet. This would add an incalculable delay. Harry was going to have to talk some sense into this boy.

The friendly officer retrieved Harry's client from his cell and took the two of them to the interview pen, two small cells, separated by bullet proof glass with a couple dozen holes drilled through it so they could hear each other. He was a tiny, frail young man. He was shaking, but it didn't seem to be from the air conditioning or from fright. Harry had seen this before. From the expression on the young man's face, he could tell that it was silent paranoid rage that caused him to tremble so.

Harry introduced himself, then held a note against the glass for him to read. His uncle had written it in his native language, not because the boy didn't understand English, but as an extra measure of assurance that this had truly come from his family. The note introduced Harry as the attorney whom the family had hired to represent him. The uncle knew...

When the man had finished reading it, Harry stuffed it back into his shirt pocket. He lowered his guard a bit and told Harry his story in as much detail as Harry would allow. He complained about his treatment by various official authorities. Finally, he complained that his handcuffs were too tight. He was cuffed behind the back. His wrists were bruised and chaffed and there was a small blood stain on his white shirt.

From his point of view, he was the aggrieved party. He had been thrown out of one of the colleges of the City University for allegedly stalking a female professor who had given him a bad grade. The hearing at which his suspension had been handed down, had been a pure denial of due process. They would readmit him, only if he received psychiatric treatment. This, of course, was unacceptable. He took his grievance to the office of his local Congressman. He went there several times. Finally, they told him that they could not help him and would not give him an appointment with the Congressman himself. "He's not here, now!"

The young man's final words to the Congressman's staff were, "I know where he parks his car. I know what it looks like. You're lying, he's here."

They took that to be a veiled threat. They asked him to leave and eventually he did. The next day the police showed up at his sister's apartment, looking for him. They searched the place without a warrant. He wasn't there. When he found out, he was infuriated. He called the precinct to protest. They invited him down to talk to them. He told them to come to his house, where he had secretly set up audio and video recorders. When they got there and asked to be admitted, he demanded to see a warrant. They had none. They forced their way in and arrested him. They charged him with resisting arrest. He got it all on tape.

Harry explained to him that it would be best for him to consent to be finger printed. If he didn't he would remain in jail. He assured Harry that he would and asked Harry to ask the police to loosen his cuffs a bit. On the way out, Harry mentioned this request to the officers. They laughed at him.

Outside, the three Sri Lankan men were wringing their hands and pacing. "Did you talk to him?"

"Yes, I did."

"Oh, so you talked to him then?"

"Yes, I talked to him."

"Did you tell him that we are here?"

"Yes, I did."

"Did you show him the note?"

"Yes, I did."

"Did he read it?"

They were distressed when Harry told them about the fingerprinting. They agreed to meet back there in the morning, but Harry knew that it was wishful thinking to believe that he would be arraigned before lunch. He got in his car and drove home. It was ten-thirty.

Harry returned the next morning and they drove him nuts all over again with the questions. They wanted to go over the story, again and again, almost acknowledging the paranoia that was so implicit in the young man's behavior.

Finally, Harry told them, "Look, whether he's crazy or not, it does not appear that he has committed a crime. Being a pain in the ass is not a crime!"

A light went on in the father's attic. "Yes, he is a pain in the ass! Can you tell that to the judge just that way?"

"You bet I can. And I will." Finally, they had reached a consensus. Suddenly, there was a calm. The hand ringing almost stopped; the pacing ended when Harry suggested that they all go into the courtroom and sit down and wait for the case to be called. Harry glanced at the brother-in-law. He was smiling down at the marble floor, so that the others could not see it.

Just before the lunch break, a court officer came up to Harry and told him they were about to call his case, but the results of the fingerprinting were not back from Albany yet. Harry would have to try to convince the judge to arraign his client without the prints. The case was called. When he made that application, the Judge asked the DA if he would consent to it, but he refused. The case would have to be called again after lunch when the prints came back.

Harry had to get back to his office to meet with some detectives from Buffalo, who had driven all the way to Manhattan to ask another client of his what he knew about a dead body that had been found in his apartment. Harry finished with them around a quarter-to-four and jumped on the subway back to Queens. He arrived in the courtroom just before closing time. They called his case and after a bench conference where Harry convinced the Judge that being a pain in the ass is not a crime, the young man was released without bail.

On their way out of the well of the courtroom, one of the court officers handed Harry an envelope. While they waited for the clerk of the court to prepare an order of protection for the Congressman and his staff, Harry's client removed his belt and shoe laces from the envelope and put them back on.

In front of the courthouse, the brother-in-law pulled up in his car and the father got in with him. "Where they going?" Harry asked the young man. When he learned that they were going to the town next to his, Harry bummed a ride.

"Is this guy a good driver?" Harry asked, joking with the kid who had just got out of jail.

"Oh, he is an expert driver," the father chimed in. "He's got a license!"