If your situation is as I understand it, and you have not yet secured other representation, then I am confident I can win your freedom.” He understood that she was not allowed visitors, but if she told the hospital that he was her lawyer they would have to make an exception.
Still in her bare feet and clutching the letter in her fist, she ran up to the hospital, gave the head secretary the name Francis O’Neill, and wrote back to him within a half hour asking him to come, please come.
FOUR
Mary sent her response to Mr. O’Neill on a Tuesday, and on Friday she watched an unfamiliar young man step off the ferry and steady himself for a moment before continuing up the path to the hospital. He clutched his briefcase with both hands. “Mr. O’Neill?” she asked. She was waiting in the shadow of the hospital’s western wall.
“You must be Mary,” he said, shaking her hand. She had so much to say and so many questions that she didn’t know where to begin.
“Why don’t I check in?” he said after a moment, nodding at the hospital doors. “They’ll want me to sign something.”
“I’ll wait down there,” she said, pointing to her hut.
Twenty minutes later, after a brief conversation about what was what on the island—Mr. O’Neill seemed interested in the X-ray building—she showed him inside and watched as his gaze skittered across the counter to the pile of rubbage she’d collected for John Cane. She offered him tea, but he declined. He pressed his handkerchief to his nose, and then opened his briefcase and removed a pile of papers. He had with him a copy of every newspaper article about her, plus her records from Willard Parker. She noticed he had notes attached to each item. He opened a notebook to a blank page.
“Let’s start with your arrest,” he said as he uncapped his pen.
“You mean my abduction,” she corrected him, and bit her lip. She didn’t want him to think she was unreasonable.
“Well, yes,” he agreed. “That’s probably more accurate.”
They spoke for two hours, and when he left, they had a plan. As Mr. O’Neill explained, the Department of Health may have been within their rights if they’d tested her first, and then put her in quarantine in Willard Parker following a positive result, but not the other way around. They were completely out of line to arrest her without a warrant and to test her once she was in their custody. First, he told her, she would apply for a writ of habeas corpus. There would be a hearing. He warned her that this meant her real name would be released, and asked if she needed to think about that. “No,” Mary said. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“The papers have been sympathetic to your side,” Mr. O’Neill said as he gathered his things. “That will help, too. Don’t be surprised if reporters come out here looking for you.”
“Will they be allowed to see me?”
“I’ll arrange it. I don’t see how the hospital can get around it.”
“And what about other visitors, could you get them to allow that, too?”
Mr. O’Neill touched her shoulder. “Try to be patient. I know it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your friends. But we have to proceed carefully, and remember, you’ll be home soon.”
“Wait,” she said as he began to leave. She had to address it now or else it would hang over her until they saw each other again. “I haven’t worked in over two years. I had a little money saved, but—”
Mr. O’Neill held up his hand. “There’s no fee.” She narrowed her eyes. He seemed decent, but no one was that decent. She decided to worry about that later, once she was free. As soon as he left, she got out a sheet of paper.
Dear Alfred,
Finally! I have news. I’ve just met with a lawyer named O’Neill and he seems certain he can get these people to let me go. There will be a hearing, I’m not sure when. Soon. I’ll send the details when it’s scheduled. I know it’s been a very long time and we have
Still in her bare feet and clutching the letter in her fist, she ran up to the hospital, gave the head secretary the name Francis O’Neill, and wrote back to him within a half hour asking him to come, please come.
FOUR
Mary sent her response to Mr. O’Neill on a Tuesday, and on Friday she watched an unfamiliar young man step off the ferry and steady himself for a moment before continuing up the path to the hospital. He clutched his briefcase with both hands. “Mr. O’Neill?” she asked. She was waiting in the shadow of the hospital’s western wall.
“You must be Mary,” he said, shaking her hand. She had so much to say and so many questions that she didn’t know where to begin.
“Why don’t I check in?” he said after a moment, nodding at the hospital doors. “They’ll want me to sign something.”
“I’ll wait down there,” she said, pointing to her hut.
Twenty minutes later, after a brief conversation about what was what on the island—Mr. O’Neill seemed interested in the X-ray building—she showed him inside and watched as his gaze skittered across the counter to the pile of rubbage she’d collected for John Cane. She offered him tea, but he declined. He pressed his handkerchief to his nose, and then opened his briefcase and removed a pile of papers. He had with him a copy of every newspaper article about her, plus her records from Willard Parker. She noticed he had notes attached to each item. He opened a notebook to a blank page.
“Let’s start with your arrest,” he said as he uncapped his pen.
“You mean my abduction,” she corrected him, and bit her lip. She didn’t want him to think she was unreasonable.
“Well, yes,” he agreed. “That’s probably more accurate.”
They spoke for two hours, and when he left, they had a plan. As Mr. O’Neill explained, the Department of Health may have been within their rights if they’d tested her first, and then put her in quarantine in Willard Parker following a positive result, but not the other way around. They were completely out of line to arrest her without a warrant and to test her once she was in their custody. First, he told her, she would apply for a writ of habeas corpus. There would be a hearing. He warned her that this meant her real name would be released, and asked if she needed to think about that. “No,” Mary said. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“The papers have been sympathetic to your side,” Mr. O’Neill said as he gathered his things. “That will help, too. Don’t be surprised if reporters come out here looking for you.”
“Will they be allowed to see me?”
“I’ll arrange it. I don’t see how the hospital can get around it.”
“And what about other visitors, could you get them to allow that, too?”
Mr. O’Neill touched her shoulder. “Try to be patient. I know it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your friends. But we have to proceed carefully, and remember, you’ll be home soon.”
“Wait,” she said as he began to leave. She had to address it now or else it would hang over her until they saw each other again. “I haven’t worked in over two years. I had a little money saved, but—”
Mr. O’Neill held up his hand. “There’s no fee.” She narrowed her eyes. He seemed decent, but no one was that decent. She decided to worry about that later, once she was free. As soon as he left, she got out a sheet of paper.
Dear Alfred,
Finally! I have news. I’ve just met with a lawyer named O’Neill and he seems certain he can get these people to let me go. There will be a hearing, I’m not sure when. Soon. I’ll send the details when it’s scheduled. I know it’s been a very long time and we have
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