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Authors: David Rosenfelt
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roadblocks to overcome.
I’m therefore surprised and annoyed at having to wait an hour before anyone comes out to escort me inside. When they finally
arrive, it’s not a uniformed guard, but rather a civilian employee.
This is unusual, but is partially explained when the man says, “The warden wants to see you.”
“Why?” I ask.
“He should be the one to tell you that.”
I’m ushered directly to the warden’s office. His name is Daniel Maddow, and I’ve met him a few times over the years, mostly
when I’ve been dissatisfied with the hospitality his people have shown to my clients. He’s been in the job for a while, at
least ten years, though he’s no older than forty. He seems to present himself as something of a contradiction; while he has
the demeanor of a grizzled veteranwho’s seen it all, he talks carefully, in a refined, almost delicate manner.
Maddow gets up from his desk when I come in, and we shake hands. “I’m afraid I have some distressing news,” he says.
“Oh?”
“Mr. Zimmerman was attacked in the lavatory early this morning. He was badly injured.”
“How badly?”
“Three broken ribs, broken clavicle, minor concussion, knife wound on his arm, possibly some internal injuries. My understanding
is that none of it is considered life threatening.”
“Who did it?” I ask.
“We believe there were three assailants. We’ve identified one of them, which was fairly easy, because he’s dead.”
“As a result of the same fight?”
“Yes. The man suffered a broken neck. Let’s just say Mr. Zimmerman put up more than a token resistance.”
“How did they get to him? I thought he was in a separate area for protection?”
Maddow nods, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “He was. There seems to have been some cooperation between the assailants
and one or more guards, though we haven’t been able to identify those culpable yet.”
“That is terrible,” I say. “Inexcusable.”
He nods. “Yes, but I’m afraid it reflects the realities of modern prison conditions. We of course have zero tolerance for
this type of thing, but unfortunately our level of tolerance is not always a deterrent.”
“Can I see him?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged, but he’s not here at the moment,” he says. “He was transferred to Saint Joseph’s Hospital,
where I am told he is in intensive care.”
“What’s going to happen when he comes back here?”
“Believe me, that is a matter that will be intensely analyzed, and adequate security will be provided.”
“You’ll understand if I’m not completely confident with that?” I ask.
He nods. “Certainly.”
Once I leave, I call the hospital and learn that if all goes well, Billy should be out of intensive care by early evening,
and I can see him then. I ask for the head nurse on the floor, who in my experience is the person in the hospital who basically
runs the place and knows everything that’s going on. I ask her if Billy is being protected, and she assures me that a police
officer is there to guard him.
It’s taken a while, but Billy’s finally attained the same status as Milo.
When I get back to the office, I’m surprised to find that Hike is there. “Hey, we won,” I say. “It couldn’t have gone better.”
“For now. If they appeal, who knows?”
“You trying to cheer me up?” I ask.
“Nah, I just came to drop off my bill.”
He hands me a bill for the time he put into writing the brief. It’s lower than I expected; he certainly didn’t pad the hours.
“Great. If you can wait a minute, I’ll give you a check.”
“Where am I going?” he asks. This is obviously a guy who likes to be paid on time.
I write out the check, realizing as I’m doing so that Milo and I never negotiated a fee structure. If he gives me a problem,
I’ll just withhold his kibble until he pays, or maybe I’ll send Hike around to collect.
Before Hike leaves, he asks the obvious question.
I’m therefore surprised and annoyed at having to wait an hour before anyone comes out to escort me inside. When they finally
arrive, it’s not a uniformed guard, but rather a civilian employee.
This is unusual, but is partially explained when the man says, “The warden wants to see you.”
“Why?” I ask.
“He should be the one to tell you that.”
I’m ushered directly to the warden’s office. His name is Daniel Maddow, and I’ve met him a few times over the years, mostly
when I’ve been dissatisfied with the hospitality his people have shown to my clients. He’s been in the job for a while, at
least ten years, though he’s no older than forty. He seems to present himself as something of a contradiction; while he has
the demeanor of a grizzled veteranwho’s seen it all, he talks carefully, in a refined, almost delicate manner.
Maddow gets up from his desk when I come in, and we shake hands. “I’m afraid I have some distressing news,” he says.
“Oh?”
“Mr. Zimmerman was attacked in the lavatory early this morning. He was badly injured.”
“How badly?”
“Three broken ribs, broken clavicle, minor concussion, knife wound on his arm, possibly some internal injuries. My understanding
is that none of it is considered life threatening.”
“Who did it?” I ask.
“We believe there were three assailants. We’ve identified one of them, which was fairly easy, because he’s dead.”
“As a result of the same fight?”
“Yes. The man suffered a broken neck. Let’s just say Mr. Zimmerman put up more than a token resistance.”
“How did they get to him? I thought he was in a separate area for protection?”
Maddow nods, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “He was. There seems to have been some cooperation between the assailants
and one or more guards, though we haven’t been able to identify those culpable yet.”
“That is terrible,” I say. “Inexcusable.”
He nods. “Yes, but I’m afraid it reflects the realities of modern prison conditions. We of course have zero tolerance for
this type of thing, but unfortunately our level of tolerance is not always a deterrent.”
“Can I see him?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged, but he’s not here at the moment,” he says. “He was transferred to Saint Joseph’s Hospital,
where I am told he is in intensive care.”
“What’s going to happen when he comes back here?”
“Believe me, that is a matter that will be intensely analyzed, and adequate security will be provided.”
“You’ll understand if I’m not completely confident with that?” I ask.
He nods. “Certainly.”
Once I leave, I call the hospital and learn that if all goes well, Billy should be out of intensive care by early evening,
and I can see him then. I ask for the head nurse on the floor, who in my experience is the person in the hospital who basically
runs the place and knows everything that’s going on. I ask her if Billy is being protected, and she assures me that a police
officer is there to guard him.
It’s taken a while, but Billy’s finally attained the same status as Milo.
When I get back to the office, I’m surprised to find that Hike is there. “Hey, we won,” I say. “It couldn’t have gone better.”
“For now. If they appeal, who knows?”
“You trying to cheer me up?” I ask.
“Nah, I just came to drop off my bill.”
He hands me a bill for the time he put into writing the brief. It’s lower than I expected; he certainly didn’t pad the hours.
“Great. If you can wait a minute, I’ll give you a check.”
“Where am I going?” he asks. This is obviously a guy who likes to be paid on time.
I write out the check, realizing as I’m doing so that Milo and I never negotiated a fee structure. If he gives me a problem,
I’ll just withhold his kibble until he pays, or maybe I’ll send Hike around to collect.
Before Hike leaves, he asks the obvious question.
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