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By
Mario V. Farina
Copyright 2016 Mario V. Farina
All Rights Reserved
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Mario V. Farina
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[email protected] Stung
The date was November 23. It was intermission at the Broadway Theater Playhouse. The play in progress was "A Holiday For Crime." Erick Spanglar was quietly sitting in his seat in the middle of a row near the back of the theater. Most of the audience was enjoying refreshments in the recreation room. Four police officers quietly walked to where Erick was seated, and placed themselves two in back of him in an empty row, and two in front. One of the officers introduced himself saying, "I'm Chief Austen of the Springdale Police Department. I have a warrant for your arrest. We are armed. Will you come with us quietly?"
Obviously surprised, Erick simply nodded his head, yes. He rose, joined the four officers in the aisle, and the group silently walked out of the theater. There was a police car waiting at the curb. One of the officers opened the back door. Two officers entered the back seat squeezing Erick between them. The other two lawmen sat in the front seat. The officer in the front passenger's seat positioned himself to face Erick. Chief Austen was at the wheel.
Once the car was underway, Eric found his voice. "What's going on? Where are we going. I ain't done nothin'!"
"Brad, it's OK to tell him." It was the chief who had spoken. Brad was sitting in the back with Erick.
"Mr. Spanglar," said Brad, "we've been tailing you for a few days since you were recognized by a citizen who spotted you at this very same theater. You love stage plays, don't you? We are taking you to a police facility a few miles from here, where you will be processed, and charged with the crimes that have made you famous, and the most wanted criminal in this country."
"I'm not Spanglar," objected Erick. "You've got me mixed up with somebody else. My name is Joe, uh, Joe Smith. I demand you stop the car and let me out."
"You're Spanglar all right. That wig, beard, and mustache ain't fooling nobody. You're the biggest catch this city has ever made, in fact, probably in the entire country. The police have been looking for you for over a year. Somehow, you eluded them, but not to a sharp-eyed individual who accurately fingered you! You're in heap big trouble! Probably the biggest since John Wilkes Booth. And here you are! Don't you dare make any kind of funny move! We have orders to bring you in alive, but, if we have to, will bring you in dead. And not a lot of people will wonder how you got dead at our hands!"
"That's enough, Brad," called out Captain Austen. "We need to give him due process before he does get dead! He'll get dead soon enough anyway!"
"All right, you know who I am. I ain't gonna deny it. But I won't get dead, as you clowns put it. My mouthpiece will do the talkin' for me! Then, I'll laugh at you jackasses."
"Your mouthpiece, Jake Lenall, has already announced that he won't represent you, Erick," responded Brad. "You'll be lucky if you find any attorney who will take your case. You're a very much hated man. If anybody knew you were in this car with us, they would stop it, and tear you to pieces. You're lucky you're with a group of civilized officers, each of which would like to do that, but are trained not to!"
That statement seemed to have rattled Erick. He remained silent until the car stopped at the side door of a large brick building. The four officers made sure Erick was in their control as he was led through the door, along a hallway, and into a small room, barren of all furniture, except a desk and several chairs. Erick was ordered to sit in one of the chairs, which he did.
Captain Austen, was now sitting behind the desk. There were three officers in a semicircle standing behind Erick.
"We're arresting you, Erick, for the many crimes that you have or could have committed, which will be documented in due time, under the Heinous Crimes Act of 1838. You will be allowed to talk to an attorney appointed by Judge Wilson. This attorney, Michael Stewart, is the only one that would agree to defend you. After he has spent half an hour with you, we will take you to the courtroom in this building where the judge and a jury, consisting of ten men and two women are assembled to pass judgment on you."
"You can't do this to me!" yelled Erick. "What is this, a kangaroo court? I got rights. I'm being railroaded! You haven't given me my Miranda! You haven't given me time to present a defense. I claim I was nuts when I committed those crimes! You can't condemn a crazy man for nothin' he did! I need to go to a nuthouse, not to jail!"
"You probably won't have to spend another day with us," declared Captain Austen. "The jury has been instructed to find you guilty and condemn you to death right away. Under the Heinous Crimes Act, you don't have no rights! No rights at all. Everybody knows you're guilty. You ain't nuts. You knew what you were doing!"
"Brad," he said, "would you ask Attorney Stuart to come in."
Brad walked to a door near a corner of the room, opened it, and signaled for someone to enter the room. A distinguished-looking, gray-haired, middle-aged gentleman in a dark blue suit, was ushered to a chair near the group. He sat facing Erick.
"Mr. Spanglar," he said, "I'm your attorney, Michael Stewart. I don't know whether I can help you. The jury in the other room has already heard your case in absentia and is ready to make a decision. You will be found guilty, and condemned to death. The good news is that you will be given a choice for your execution; that is by hanging, electrocution, injection, gas, or firing squad. The bad news is that you must make a decision. If you don't, it will be made for you, and it will probably be the one you dislike most. There's also some talk about botching the execution so that you'll die at a more leisurely pace. It's possible the sentence will carried out tonight!"
"What! I never heard of no heinous criminal thing that you're talking about. It sounds like a Rush to Justice Act. I ain't guilty! I probably did everything while I was drunk, or under the influence of drugs, or out of my mind! You've got to save me. What can I tell you? What can I admit to? What can I do? I don't want to die in no electric chair and I don't want no gas. I don't want no firing squad! I don't want no botchin'. I don't want nothin'! Tell me, what do I gotta do!"
"I was talking to the judge," said the attorney. "He said, maybe the Heinous Act is unconstitutional. It's never been used before. We don't want to execute anyone who doesn't get due process. He said, maybe if you confess in writing to everything you did, and express even a tiny bit of remorse, he could give you five lifetimes sentences of prison, at hard labor, with no possibility of parole! He didn't promise! He only said maybe."
"I'll take it! I'll confess! Gimme paper. Gimme a pen. I'll confess to everything! I'll say I'm sorry a thousand times!"
"You need to give every detail," insisted the attorney. "Even stuff the police don't know. You must not leave any loopholes that will allow you to squeeze through with some sort of a technical plea. If you mess up this you'll probably get the rack!"
"Let me write it all down. I'll give you details you wouldn't believe!"
"Begin writing," said Mr. Stewart. "In the meantime, I'll go talk to the judge. If you're lucky, he'll instruct the jury to give you that maximum sentence I just described."
Erick was given paper and pen, and he began writing at a furious pace. Officers standing at his shoulders, would, from time to time, have him correct a misspelled word, or be more clear in what he was writing. His confession, hastily written, on eight sheets of paper, required thirty minutes to scribble. Attorney Stuart returned and said, the deal h
ad been accepted, and Erick would receive the sentence that the judge had proposed.
"Brad, you and the other guys, take this weasel to Central Precinct and tell them what has been going on here," said Captain Austen. "Hand them the confession he made, and let them take over. In the meantime, we'll see whether there's any part of the audience still in the theater so that we can resume the play."
Brad, accompanied by the two others who had appeared to be policeman, but who actually were actors, left the room as Mr. Austin, who appeared to be a captain, but who actually was another actor, had instructed them. The "attorney" has been an actor also.
It had all been a sham, a sting, and Erick Spanglar had been stung bad! One of the actors in the play had recognized Erick as being the number one criminal, who had been sought for so long. Brad, who was actually an officer in the police department, as well as an actor for the theater, had used his sprightly mind to dream up and lead the sting. Several of the cast had quickly donned police uniforms, captured Erick, taken him for a ride around the city, then brought him back to the theater, entered through a side door, and performed the charade that was described above. Brad's purpose in leading this effort had been to avoid much of the delay occurring nowadays in promptly dispensing justice to criminals. It was felt that the detailed confession would accomplish a great deal to overcome those impediments to justice.
It was also believed that, though the cast would be criticized for their outrageous performances in attaining a bogus confession, and for the lies they had told, they would be forgiven since an actual police officer had led the farce. The specious confession was thrown out. However, because of the additional details it have provided, Erick was speedily, and legally, tried and found guilty of the many crimes he had committed. For many years afterward, Brad would be kidded as still using the 1838 Heinous Crimes Act on other criminals though it did not, and had not, ever existed.