about thirty-five with a gold wedding band. They shook hands but Jake didn’t say anything as Tibbs closed the door, indicating they all should sit.
Tibbs began. “Mr. Ramsey, Callie Murray has been caught in Savannah, GA.”
Jake looked at him with a neutral expression. “Did she still have my gold?”
At that point Wallace spoke. “Mr. Ramsey. We don’t have all the details yet. They’re still collecting evidence. She had some things at a nearby hotel and a car.”
Jake responded. “Was she alone?”
Wallace answered. “We don’t know that either, sir. The local P.D. called this office (indicating the Lafayette P.D.) based on statements from Ms. Murray.”
“So why’s the FBI involved?”
“There’s a suspicion that felony crimes have been committed across state lines. In your case, Officer Tibbs informs that upwards of a million dollars was stolen from you.”
Jake said, “Something like that. Does that make it a federal crime?” As he asked the questions, he realized that he shouldn’t really care, let the whole U.S. Justice system come down on her. What difference does it make? More troops meant more chance of getting his gold back.
Wallace responded. “It’s large enough to meet our Major Crimes standards, but there is a possibility that she was also involved in murder.”
“Murder? Callie?”
“Yes, sir. I can’t say anything more specific, but she could be in a world of hurt.”
“Was she alone?”
“It appears so, sir. But as I said, they are still investigating in Savannah. We have our FBI office involved, so we’ll know more, probably later today.”
Jake wasn’t sure what to say next. A hundred thoughts were spinning around in his mind. “Ah, how can I keep up on this?”
Wallace reached in his pocket for his ID case, pulling out a business card. “You can call me at any time. Use my mobile number ‘cuz I’m out of the office quite a bit. Also, I’ll be keeping Detective Tibbs informed. This is going to get really complex with different state jurisdictions, and a Federal case developing. It could take quite a while to sort this all out, but if you’re patient, you might just see your coin collection again, or at least some of it.”
Wallace stood, indicating the meeting was over. They shook hands, and Jake left the station. Driving toward CHI, he was relieved to think that his coins “might” be returned, but he needed to fight the urge to get his hopes up. There had been enough colossal upsets over the past several months. If she had the background that the police had described to him, she had to be a lot tougher than he sensed. She didn’t seem tough at all while living with him, and what about murder? Was she really capable of murder? He just couldn’t imagine it.
Jailed
She awoke that day in a holding cell in the same building where she had surrendered. The cell had two bunk beds and could presumably hold four women, but only one other bed was occupied. The young woman was still sleeping, but had a familiar appearance Callie had seen on the streets her whole adult life. The woman’s tight skirt and undersized blouse were torn and dirty. She’d seen the results of street fights before and been in the same circumstance herself. It wasn’t that long ago, but she felt oddly dissociated with her past.
A female officer appeared at the wire mesh door to their cage announcing, “Murray?”
“I’m Callie Murray.”
The officer opened the door. “Come with me, we got to get you processed and dressed properly.”
Callie knew the drill. She’d done this a dozen times before in Oklahoma and figured the process was pretty much the same. Sometimes, a night in jail meant the best night’s sleep and food she could get. The first stop was at a processing desk officer who filled out a standard form questionnaire, asking her questions about where she lived, worked, date of birth, married status and others. Many answers were “no” or “none,” which got a particularly stern look, given the way she was dressed. Then they took her picture and fingerprints, being careful not to mess her cloths. After processing, she was taken to a women’s dressing area and told to strip with one of the female officers inventorying her clothing. Callie asked, “Please take special care of those. It’s the only good clothing I will ever have.”
Either out of pity or for her respectful behavior, the officer took extra care, folding the garments and sealing them in a bag with Callie’s name and the date written in large letters on the outside. Then she was told to sign the bag, witnessing the contents placed inside. She said “thanks” and was taken back to another holding cell, awaiting arraignment. Overall, everyone had been as pleasant as possible under the circumstances.
An hour later, a Deputy Prosecutor (police officer with a law degree) came to her cell with a clipboard and more forms. His uniform name tag said “Arion” and he wore Lieutenant’s bars on his epaulettes. He was let into her cell by a female officer who stayed with them. He looked to be about her age and had probably struggled for years to finish his education while raising a family. He was tall and thin, with thick glasses and thinning black hair cut short.
He read something then asked, “Miss Murray, do you have a driver’s license or any form of legal identification with a picture?”
She answered calmly. “No, sir. I’ve never had a legal ID. I imagine you can contact the Tulsa Police Department with my information, and they will send you confirming pictures.”
“You’ve been arrested before?”
“I worked the streets for a long time in Tulsa and was arrested a few times.”
He looked at her, surprised by her composure. Most streetwalkers or women with police records were belligerent or outright caustic. Callie was responsive and polite. He looked at the female officer who was equally surprised.
He went on while filling out some information on the forms. “Okay. Now you say that you committed a crime in Louisiana. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And you used a stolen credit card here in Savannah to buy some clothing articles and hotel room?
“Yes, and I was driving a stolen car from Texas.”
He scratched his head. “Okay, Miss Murray. We’ll notify the police in the other states about your claims. We just need to deal with your offenses in Georgia. We may need to defer the charges here if the other states have more serious claims. In the meantime, we’ll arraign you here today and set a date for trial.”
“Do I need a trial? I already admitted doing those things.”
“Well, you are entitled to your day in court like any other accused person. If found guilty, the judge will need to impose a penalty or a fine.”
“I am guilty, and I can’t pay a fine. Just send me to jail until the other states want me.”
He wasn’t sure how to answer her. “Look, Miss Murray. Even with a confession, the judge needs to find a ruling of guilt and assess a penalty based on the merits of the case.”
She looked at him sympathetically. He’d probably never had someone professing total guilt and eager to accept punishment. “Look. You’re a nice man. I wish people would call me Callie. I’m not a formal person, and it makes me feel uncomfortable.” He nodded, and so did the lockup officer. “I don’t want to be a burden on anyone. If I go back onto the streets, I’ll probably do something bad. I’ve always done bad things to stay alive. I don’t fear punishment. I just don’t want a lot of people going to a lot of trouble on my account. What’s the fastest way to get this all over with?”
“Well, we can type up a confession and present it to the judge with a request by you to waive pre-trail arraignment and ask for a summary judgment from the bench. Is that what you’re asking?”
“It sounds right to me. Bring me the confession, and I’ll sign it.”
He was looking at his notes, pretending to read, not quite sure what to say. “Look, Callie. If that’s what you want, I’ll have an officer take your statement and get
this all down on paper. Then we can discuss your next move. Don’t you even want a chance to go free? We’ve got some decent Public Defenders in Savannah.”
“Officer Arion, I know this is not what you’re used to, but I don’t want to bother anyone. I came here by my own choice, and I’m one hundred percent guilty. It wouldn’t be right for me to get off. Please have the paperwork ready so I can sign it. That’s all I want.”
He stood, shaking his head. He looked like he wanted to say something more, but just whispered “okay” in exasperation as he left. When he was gone and the door was locked closed, the lockup officer said, “Callie, you can change your mind any time before the judge rules. Prosecutor Arion was trying to give you a signal that you would probably get off with a hand slap.”
Callie smiled at her. “Thank you. I deserve a lot more and just want to do something right for once in my life.”
The jailer smiled in bewilderment and walked away.
Jake’s Decision
Later that afternoon, Jake was returning from a drop-off at one of the close-in oil platforms when BJ called on the radio. “Jake, when you get in, someone from the Savannah Police Department wants you to call him. I got the number.”
“Okay, BJ. Thanks.” He dreaded talking to anyone in Savannah. Why did he need to be involved? It had to be about Callie, and he didn’t want to have any more to do with her right now.
After landing and completing paperwork, he took