windar
Teller of Tales
The shaft tooView attachment 663387I always said Goldman had a swelled head
...Oh, wait, you meant the other head?
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Barb Behind Bars
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
...Oh, wait, you meant the other head?
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
A very good chapter. I, for one, appreciate the exception to the rule with a tender, serious love scene. Very nicely done!
Sharkman
Governor
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
My heart misgives me, but let's be optimistic ... and hope the worst for Barb.
I have been told, the prosecutor's name is William Henry Harrison.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
A stranger and disturbing imageI always said Goldman had a swelled head
(some of it)Which head does she prefer?The shaft too
Bicker, Bicker. You guys certainly know how to steal the magic from a sweet romantic moment!Geeze
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
And John Tyler is the jail warden.I have been told, the prosecutor's name is William Henry Harrison.
You did ask for that, Barb!The shaft too
windar
Teller of Tales
It's a very good bet.My heart misgives me, but let's be optimistic ... and hope the worst for Barb.
She usually does.
He was President for only one month. He was inaugurated on March 4, 1841. It was a very cold and wet day, yet he insisted on not wearing a hat or overcoat and rode on a horse rather than in a carriage. Despite the terrible weather, he delivered the longest inaugural address in US history (despite his friend Daniel Webster cutting it down). The story is often told that he caught a cold at the inaugural. In truth, he didn't get the cold until 3 weeks later. Nevertheless, he died 9 days later, on April 4, despite, or perhaps because of being treated with opium, castor oil, leeches and snakeweed. A recent analysis has concluded that he probably died of septic shock, likely because the White House drew its water downstream of the public sewer. These days, the reverse appears to be the case....
windar
Teller of Tales
Thank you for the kind words. I will try not to abuse the patience of the readers and do it again...
A bit arbitrary - it's not like it's a new episode, but if you need reasons I suppose it will do.
This is one of those rhetorical questions?
After all that, I'd be surprised if he wasn't thinking about a short crime and giving himself up...
Oh wait - no coed prisons. He'd better get her off. 
windar
Teller of Tales
3.
Martin van Buren’s law office occupied a large Victorian house about a block from the county courthouse. “It looks a bit like the one those white slavers used, though it’s been painted sometime since the Bush Administration, the first one,” Barb said as they pulled around behind to park.
“You think van Buren has a dungeon in the basement where he keeps kidnapped girls before shipping them overseas?” Stan asked.
“Probably not, but you never know for sure, do you?” Barb replied. “Nevertheless, we better go in and see what he’s been able to find out.” They went up the steps to the back entrance, which led into a waiting area. An older woman sat at a desk with a computer, printer and phone. “Hi, I’m Barbara Moore and this is Stan Goldman,” Barb announced. “We’re here to see Mr. van Buren.
After a brief wait, they were escorted into a large room, which had probably been the parlor when this had been a family home. Van Buren stood to greet them. Stan noted that he was nicely dressed, wearing a well-fitted light blue shirt with a red tie and pin-striped pants. The matching jacket was draped over his chair.
“Please have a seat,” the attorney said, indicating a conference table at the far end of the room. “I’ll ask Kathy to bring some coffee.” After the receptionist brought them each a mug of very good coffee, he began. “I’ve had a chance to review your case, Ms. Moore.”
“Barb,” Barb told him.
“Barb,” he corrected himself. “And I’ve had a preliminary conversation with the DA’s office. It’s an unfortunate set of circumstances.”
Barb looked concerned. “Unfortunate, how?” she asked.
“The DA has taken a personal interest. Apparently he was very rankled by having that hanging club case grabbed away from him to be prosecuted down in the city, even though your sting happened up here. DA’s tend not to like that. So he isn’t disposed to be generous in this case.”
“That’s political bullshit!” Barb protested.
“Of course it is,” van Buren said, nodding. “But that’s how DA’s operate. They get points for prosecuting cases themselves, not handing them over to other jurisdictions. And I’m sure you are aware of how some people around here feel about the City where you formerly resided.”
“So what?” Stan said. “That’s no reason to take it out on an innocent young woman.” Barb smiled, glad that Stan was rushing to her defense.
Van Buren raised his eyebrows. “Under the law, you aren’t completely innocent, Barb. And I’m sure you appreciate that computer hacking is very much in the public eye these days.”
“I didn’t hack anything!” Barb protested. “I just asked an old colleague for a favor!”
van Buren raised his hands in a calming gesture. “You accessed a data base that is only for active duty police officers, which you are not. The access was unauthorized, which makes it a crime. And your inducing Detective Davis to give you information to which you weren’t entitled is a criminal conspiracy under the law.” Barb looked shocked to hear those words. “I don’t make the law, but the statute certainly would allow the DA to get an indictment on that basis.”
Stan looked at Barb, who seemed too shocked to speak. “An indictment is one thing. You can indict a ham sandwich. But what would a jury do with a hero cop when that ‘crime’-Stan raised his hands to make an air quote around that word-resulted in the bust of some very bad hombres, or cheloveks, in this case?”
“That’s very true, but you never know what a jury will do. I’ve seen them acquit some people I would have bet a lot of money would have been convicted and vice versa. It’s a crap shoot.”
“So what’s the alternative?” Barb asked.
Van Buren leaned back in his chair. “I believe I could get the DA to accept a reduced sentence if you testify against Detective Davis. They need some evidence that he passed the info on to you to convict him, so your testimony is important.”
“And if I don’t?” Barb asked.
“If you go to trial and lose, you’re looking at quite a bit prison time. Judges tend to be hard on cops who screw up. And Judge Pennyworth is a bit of an odd bird.”
“Meaning?” Stan asked quizzically.
“Just that you never quite know where you stand with him. But, if you plead guilty I can hopefully get it down to a year or so,” the attorney told them.
“A year?” she asked, shocked. “No chance at probation?”
“As I said, these are unfortunate and somewhat unusual circumstances,” van Buren replied, trying to soothe Barb’s evident anger and unhappiness. “I’ll talk to them again, but my sense based on dealing with them over many cases is they don’t want to budge on this one. “
Barb looked crestfallen. “Look, take a bit of time to think about it,” van Buren advised. “I don’t see any problem extending things until the end of the week, though they might force our hand after that.”
“Alright,” Barb said, standing, “You’ve given us lots to think about.”
van Buren stood to show them out. “I wish I had better news. Let me know what you decide.”
Barb and Stan rode home in silence, each digesting the information they had heard.
Stan prepared a simple dinner-roast chicken with herbs, potatoes roasted with olive oil and garlic and stir fried spinach. Afterwards they sat on the sofa with just a single light on at the far end of the living room.
Barb spoke first. “I think I should accept the plea.”
Stan reached out and touched her arm. “Barb,” he said, “You can beat those charges. They’re a load of crap.”
“Maybe, Stan, maybe not. Van Buren didn’t seem too confident. Look, Stan, I’ve spent a good part of my adult life going after people who broke the law. It may have been in a good cause, but I broke the law. Shouldn’t I be punished?”
“If it’s punishment you want, Moore, I’m more than happy to oblige. We can go downstairs and take care of this right now.”
Barb stuck her tongue out. “Thanks for your concern, Stan, but I’m looking for something more official and public.”
“We can invite the neighbors over to watch if you’d like, Barb.”
“I’m serious, Stan!” Barb protested.
“But a year in prison, Barb? You’d really do that?”
“Only eight months, with good behavior.”
“Barb, when you ever shown good behavior and the ability to follow rules?” Stan quipped. “Ow! That hurt, Moore,” he yelled as Barb punched him in the arm.
“I just don’t want to go through a trial and pay van Buren a fortune. I’d rather do my time and come home.”
“You’ll never be able to work as a cop again with a record,” Stan said.
“And? I’m retired. You said so and you were right, Goldman.” Stan just shook his head.
“So will you miss me if I do this?”
“Of course, I will,” Stan replied. “Life will be dull without you here.”
“And you won’t take up with someone else, Stan?”
“Who else would have this beaten up old cop, Barb?”
“For once we agree,” Barb replied.
“You might be interested in a little research that I did.”
“Research?” Barb asked.
“In anticipation of your possible sentence.” Stan got up and went to the table where their computer and printer sat. He returned with a sheet of printer paper. “This might be of interest,” he said handing it to Barb.
She looked at it for a few moments, then looked up, glaring at him. “The prison strap, Goldman? Used in prisons in the US and Canada in the ‘good old days’ to punish recalcitrant prisoners. Two feet of half-inch thick leather attached to a solid oak handle. Will reduce the most hardened miscreant to tears.”
“It’s only $ 59.99, Barb. My going away present to you. We can warm you up for your time inside.”
Martin van Buren’s law office occupied a large Victorian house about a block from the county courthouse. “It looks a bit like the one those white slavers used, though it’s been painted sometime since the Bush Administration, the first one,” Barb said as they pulled around behind to park.
“You think van Buren has a dungeon in the basement where he keeps kidnapped girls before shipping them overseas?” Stan asked.
“Probably not, but you never know for sure, do you?” Barb replied. “Nevertheless, we better go in and see what he’s been able to find out.” They went up the steps to the back entrance, which led into a waiting area. An older woman sat at a desk with a computer, printer and phone. “Hi, I’m Barbara Moore and this is Stan Goldman,” Barb announced. “We’re here to see Mr. van Buren.
After a brief wait, they were escorted into a large room, which had probably been the parlor when this had been a family home. Van Buren stood to greet them. Stan noted that he was nicely dressed, wearing a well-fitted light blue shirt with a red tie and pin-striped pants. The matching jacket was draped over his chair.
“Please have a seat,” the attorney said, indicating a conference table at the far end of the room. “I’ll ask Kathy to bring some coffee.” After the receptionist brought them each a mug of very good coffee, he began. “I’ve had a chance to review your case, Ms. Moore.”
“Barb,” Barb told him.
“Barb,” he corrected himself. “And I’ve had a preliminary conversation with the DA’s office. It’s an unfortunate set of circumstances.”
Barb looked concerned. “Unfortunate, how?” she asked.
“The DA has taken a personal interest. Apparently he was very rankled by having that hanging club case grabbed away from him to be prosecuted down in the city, even though your sting happened up here. DA’s tend not to like that. So he isn’t disposed to be generous in this case.”
“That’s political bullshit!” Barb protested.
“Of course it is,” van Buren said, nodding. “But that’s how DA’s operate. They get points for prosecuting cases themselves, not handing them over to other jurisdictions. And I’m sure you are aware of how some people around here feel about the City where you formerly resided.”
“So what?” Stan said. “That’s no reason to take it out on an innocent young woman.” Barb smiled, glad that Stan was rushing to her defense.
Van Buren raised his eyebrows. “Under the law, you aren’t completely innocent, Barb. And I’m sure you appreciate that computer hacking is very much in the public eye these days.”
“I didn’t hack anything!” Barb protested. “I just asked an old colleague for a favor!”
van Buren raised his hands in a calming gesture. “You accessed a data base that is only for active duty police officers, which you are not. The access was unauthorized, which makes it a crime. And your inducing Detective Davis to give you information to which you weren’t entitled is a criminal conspiracy under the law.” Barb looked shocked to hear those words. “I don’t make the law, but the statute certainly would allow the DA to get an indictment on that basis.”
Stan looked at Barb, who seemed too shocked to speak. “An indictment is one thing. You can indict a ham sandwich. But what would a jury do with a hero cop when that ‘crime’-Stan raised his hands to make an air quote around that word-resulted in the bust of some very bad hombres, or cheloveks, in this case?”
“That’s very true, but you never know what a jury will do. I’ve seen them acquit some people I would have bet a lot of money would have been convicted and vice versa. It’s a crap shoot.”
“So what’s the alternative?” Barb asked.
Van Buren leaned back in his chair. “I believe I could get the DA to accept a reduced sentence if you testify against Detective Davis. They need some evidence that he passed the info on to you to convict him, so your testimony is important.”
“And if I don’t?” Barb asked.
“If you go to trial and lose, you’re looking at quite a bit prison time. Judges tend to be hard on cops who screw up. And Judge Pennyworth is a bit of an odd bird.”
“Meaning?” Stan asked quizzically.
“Just that you never quite know where you stand with him. But, if you plead guilty I can hopefully get it down to a year or so,” the attorney told them.
“A year?” she asked, shocked. “No chance at probation?”
“As I said, these are unfortunate and somewhat unusual circumstances,” van Buren replied, trying to soothe Barb’s evident anger and unhappiness. “I’ll talk to them again, but my sense based on dealing with them over many cases is they don’t want to budge on this one. “
Barb looked crestfallen. “Look, take a bit of time to think about it,” van Buren advised. “I don’t see any problem extending things until the end of the week, though they might force our hand after that.”
“Alright,” Barb said, standing, “You’ve given us lots to think about.”
van Buren stood to show them out. “I wish I had better news. Let me know what you decide.”
Barb and Stan rode home in silence, each digesting the information they had heard.
Stan prepared a simple dinner-roast chicken with herbs, potatoes roasted with olive oil and garlic and stir fried spinach. Afterwards they sat on the sofa with just a single light on at the far end of the living room.
Barb spoke first. “I think I should accept the plea.”
Stan reached out and touched her arm. “Barb,” he said, “You can beat those charges. They’re a load of crap.”
“Maybe, Stan, maybe not. Van Buren didn’t seem too confident. Look, Stan, I’ve spent a good part of my adult life going after people who broke the law. It may have been in a good cause, but I broke the law. Shouldn’t I be punished?”
“If it’s punishment you want, Moore, I’m more than happy to oblige. We can go downstairs and take care of this right now.”
Barb stuck her tongue out. “Thanks for your concern, Stan, but I’m looking for something more official and public.”
“We can invite the neighbors over to watch if you’d like, Barb.”
“I’m serious, Stan!” Barb protested.
“But a year in prison, Barb? You’d really do that?”
“Only eight months, with good behavior.”
“Barb, when you ever shown good behavior and the ability to follow rules?” Stan quipped. “Ow! That hurt, Moore,” he yelled as Barb punched him in the arm.
“I just don’t want to go through a trial and pay van Buren a fortune. I’d rather do my time and come home.”
“You’ll never be able to work as a cop again with a record,” Stan said.
“And? I’m retired. You said so and you were right, Goldman.” Stan just shook his head.
“So will you miss me if I do this?”
“Of course, I will,” Stan replied. “Life will be dull without you here.”
“And you won’t take up with someone else, Stan?”
“Who else would have this beaten up old cop, Barb?”
“For once we agree,” Barb replied.
“You might be interested in a little research that I did.”
“Research?” Barb asked.
“In anticipation of your possible sentence.” Stan got up and went to the table where their computer and printer sat. He returned with a sheet of printer paper. “This might be of interest,” he said handing it to Barb.
She looked at it for a few moments, then looked up, glaring at him. “The prison strap, Goldman? Used in prisons in the US and Canada in the ‘good old days’ to punish recalcitrant prisoners. Two feet of half-inch thick leather attached to a solid oak handle. Will reduce the most hardened miscreant to tears.”
“It’s only $ 59.99, Barb. My going away present to you. We can warm you up for your time inside.”
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As if there isn’t enough of that in this country already
Protesting is one of the things I do best
Holy Shit!
My “noble” gene on display
Giggle snort ...
Loaded question ..,
His biggest purchase of the year and he spent it on me
messaline
Crucified Amazon
What ? ! Wine into a refrigerator ?!!! It's for this CRIME that you'll have to be locked up !!!
windar
Teller of Tales
It must be recessive
Sort of like, "Does this dress make me look fat?"
I'm a very caring and generous guy...
It's for this CRIME that you'll have to be locked up !!!
Big crime in France? I hear it’s a crcifiable offense there!
