NEW HAVEN
In the darkness of the predawn hours Maggie changed her jacket and formal dress in front of Audie handcuffed to the rear seat of the Crown Victoria. She threw the dirty clothes over his face laughing as his hot breath oscillated the muslin rags up and down. Maggie climbed into the car and kissed him lovingly; they groaned and fought for space among the suede seats of the FBI plated sedan.
Maggie rose from the backseat and left the car to wash up and fix her matted hair for the trial and the impromptu press conference afterwards. The other agents, sick of their relationship, were impatient to remove Sergeant Bezzeg to Marion Atlanta Leavenworth
By the time that she returned the clouds had opened up into a light drizzle that cooled the roads and suppressed the summer dusts from rising into the atmosphere. The convoy departed with her car leading in the vanguard position.
The five cars drove down Route 88 and took the Derby Pike over to Westville and continued on down Whalley Avenue
As stern as Maggie had tried to appear, it was obvious subterfuge that failed to adequately hide her melancholy. Her man, her ally, and her lover was on the verge of vanishing from her grasp into the penal system never to come out of captivity again. This prospect neared fruition with each step they took closer to the courtroom. She knew that it would not be a difficult estimation that Audie would be convicted on all counts varying from Rico statutes to the manslaughter of unarmed suspects. He was a thug.
The parade of marshals led the shackled Detective up the front steps of the New Haven Federal courthouse past the broadcasting vans of the local and regional news stations. Inside the courthouse the gaslights of the lobby and halls reflected dull images on the polished surface of white and black marble. The reporters, including a very tired and angry Rachel Cox, chased the Bezzegs and the assortment of prosecuting and defense lawyers into the restricted space of the courtroom. Flashes of the cameras and the lights blinded the throng of government agents that moved along rapidly into the room that awaited their presence. The oak doors swung open as they crashed through past the security guards and newspaper reporters taking cryptic notes on the physical appearance of the parties involved.
Audie had his hands bandaged with gauze pads for the second-degree burns he suffered. Dried purple blood suffused the skin on his neck and stained the zebra design on his soccer jersey. He walked with a limp and a determined gait that contradicted the mood of the room drenched in dust and the intense morning light of late summer.
Maggie brought her prisoner through the audience aisles past the benches to sit by his lonesome on the defence desk opposite the loaded prosecution. Maggie uncuffed him from the seat behind him. She crossed her legs, righted her skirt and adjusted her block letter identification badge hanging on the front pocket of her blazer. Audie with his head turned, smiled eyeing his wife’s thighs, thinking about the last time they had been together.
“You know I haven’t seen you naked in two hours, no soft hands running up and down your thighs pulling at your pale skin. Waiting for the purr you make that groan stirring through your marrow.”
She tried to ignore the pheromones rising, and returned him a sinister smile that betrayed the tension. “Shut up will you, this is the rest of your life, Audie.”
“A hundred years gone. I’d say this could be the worst day of your life.”
“I’m starting to think my worst day was when I met you and got into this mess of yours.”
Maggie was interrupted as the masses on both sides for and against the former Lieutenant stood up promptly when the magistrate entered the crowded courtroom.
“All rise for her honour, Judge Elina Weisz.”
The Judge, was in her early sixties, with graying hair and had a wounded glare on her face. Audie thought to himself she had just had a root canal or a bowel obstruction that lended her countenance extreme suffering and weakened stamina. She cleared her throat and addressed the US Attorney, the prosecutor of Audie’s case.
“What are the charges against Lieutenant Bezzeg?”
The nameless US Attorney smirked an upward glance to Judge Weisz and dove into the long laundry list of charges. It took almost five minutes to read out the indictments. He remained standing and gave the time over to Audie, who had chosen to represent himself.
“How do you plead?”
“Guilty on all twenty-three counts, your grace.” Audie said lacking the gravitas expected of such a decisive admission.
The US Attorney spat out the water he was drinking all over his testimonials and the pressed Brooks Brothers suits of his counsel from the New Haven New York
“Sidebar, your honor,” the US Attorney asked sitting uncomfortably in his wooden swivel chair. He approached the bench and waited for Audie to arrive from his table.
The US Attorney burst out suddenly, before Audie could reach the bench, “Sergeant Bezzeg does not know what he is doing, he made a deal with us to divulge information on the Cranbury Police and Mayor Ramsay. This is a breach of our agreement.”
Audie responded in kind without the indignant condescension. “This supposed agreement was never put into writing nor was it ever recorded. An implied plea deal is not a real plea as recognized in the courts. Any imagined plea by the US Attorney is inadmissible because it’s a conversation and cannot remotely be considered as an agreement.”
“I’m afraid that I will agree with the Lieutenant’s interpretation. Is that all?”
She was visibly upset but felt compelled to agree with Detective Bezzeg and concur that this trial was unnecessary. Bezzeg had saved the jobs of hundreds of county employees and city police officers from the threat of trial and imprisonment; he would have a lifetime incarcerated to savor his sacrificial goodwill. And, yes, the entire city is corrupt and proud of it.
Audie sat back down and listened to Maggie whisper into his ears—revealing her feelings about his ridiculous sacrifice for his home and people. “You did the right thing, Audie. I’m going to really miss you.”
“You’re a worse liar than me, you know that Magpie.”
She fought off the emotions, “I know. I love a loser.”
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