to worry about work. Mr. Michaels was here and knows you are under investigation.” There was a long moment of silence as Elizabeth realized the full content of Mr. Taylor’s statement. “Either arrest me or I am leaving.” Elizabeth’s statement was curt and she rose and moved directly in front of him as she spoke. The District Attorney looked up at her obviously struggling to make a decision. “I’m gone then,” Elizabeth stated as she walked past him and toward the door.
Investigator Anderson stepped sideways and blocked Elizabeth’s exit. His breath was strong and smelled of coffee and cigarettes. “Time to decide, Mr. Taylor.” Elizabeth said all the while never taking her eyes off Anderson. It wasn’t as though Elizabeth was that strong, only that she realized life as she knew it was over. There was no way she could go back to work. Even declaring her innocence would not make a difference if Harrison thought she had anything to do with Mary’s death. Their relationship was probably over. Also if anyone found out about their relationship, Harrison would be harassed, his career ruined and he would possibly be arrested. Elizabeth couldn’t have that. Harrison was suffering enough as it was. It was then Elizabeth decided no matter what she was going to protect Harrison. “Lock her up,” the District Attorney said as he got up from his chair and walked passed Elizabeth toward the door. As investigator Anderson was putting the handcuffs on her, the District Attorney looked back at Elizabeth. “You want an attorney? You had better get a good one because you will need it.” That said, he opened the door and walked out. Investigator Anderson led Elizabeth out the door behind the district attorney and down the hall to booking.
Booking was the first process of the arrest. It was here a suspect was photographed, fingerprinted and stripped-searched. At booking, Elizabeth was turned over to a female officer. Elizabeth never spoke throughout the entire booking process. To an observer she would have appeared as a lamb at slaughter. She obediently carried out the instructions of the booking officers as she was led through the process. First, Elizabeth was fingerprinted. The fingerprint procedure was not extensive; it consisted of rolling ink stained fingers inside pre-numbered blocks. The only problem is the ink does not wash off. To the trained attorney, a person who had been fingerprinted the day before is easy to spot. Following the fingerprinting Elizabeth was photographed. This can honestly be said to be the only picture you could ever take which will make your driver’s license photo look good. Of course after being interrogated for several hours and enduring several bouts of tears no one would expect to be magazine cover material. Some people believe this is done purposely as the arrest photograph is always the one given to the media. Even Mother Teresa would look guilty if an arrest photograph of her was shown on the evening news.
The final stage in the booking process is the strip-search. Elizabeth bowed her head as she slowly undressed until she stood before the female officer with one arm covering her breast and the other her crotch. “Hold your arms out to the side.” The instruction was cold and direct. Elizabeth grudgingly raised her arms out to each side as the officer ran her hands up and down her body. The plastic gloves worn by the officer were the same as the ones used by Elizabeth’s doctor, but the feeling was not. Walking behind her, the officer placed her hand on Elizabeth’s back and while giving a push directed her to bend over. Elizabeth felt nauseous and thought she was going to be physically sick when she felt the officer’s hand slide down her back and between her cheeks. She could not help but flinch when the first finger went inside her anus followed by the second entering her vagina. No one can understand the complete humiliation felt by someone having their insides searched for contraband. Elizabeth could not hold back the tears as she dressed in the normal orange jump suit and flip-flops of the county facility. She felt as violated as if she had been raped and left in a ditch to die.
As she was being led to the holding cell Elizabeth was told the words all arrestees long to hear: “You can make a phone call now if you want.” Looking back at the female officer in whose custody she was placed, Elizabeth slightly smiled when she was motioned to the pay telephones against the wall. Dialing a number she waited for the prompt from the automated operator and gave her name. When the phone was answered and the call accepted at the other end, Elizabeth stated she didn’t know whom else to call and turned closer to the telephone so as not to be heard by anyone. “What? I don’t know.” Turning back to the officer Elizabeth asked how much her bail was. “Bail will be set in the morning by the judge,” was the reply. Relaying this information to her caller, Elizabeth said she would be all right and would see them in the morning. She then hung up the telephone and turned back to the officer. “Thank you, I’m ready to go now.” As she resumed her walk toward the holding cells Elizabeth fought back her tears. No matter what happened from now on she was determined to be strong, at least on the outside.
The courtroom of Judge Jessica Smith was packed with reporters. The constant murmur was centered on who was Elizabeth Blaine. The District Attorney walked into the courtroom from the front door and was immediately mobbed. Stopping just inside the door to allow for more room around him, Jeffrey Taylor took center stage. “Ladies, Gentlemen, please I need to get through to counsel table.” Jeffrey’s voice sounded sincere but everyone knew he had no intention of going anywhere. “Who is Elizabeth Blaine?” The question echoed in the auditorium styled courtroom. Jeffrey did not know where the question came and addressed his response to the crowd. “Elizabeth Blaine is the secretary or more than likely the former secretary of Harrison Michaels, husband of the deceased.” “What’s the charge?” This question came from Mark Baker, writer for the National Gazette, a newspaper in the metropolitan area, which was known for its accuracy and integrity. “The charge ...,” Jeffrey paused for effect and to insure everyone was focused directly upon him. “The charge is capital murder.” “Will you be seeking the death penalty?” The question hung in the air and brought a silence to the room. Jeffrey smiled slightly as he prepared to answer relishing every moment of attention this case was bringing him.
“All rise,” the bailiff’s voice boomed and all eyes immediately were directed to the side of the courtroom. “The District Court of Washington County is now is session. The Honorable Jessica Smith presiding.” Jeffrey’s chest deflated as if he had been poked with a pin. From the look on his face it was evident that Judge Smith had upstaged him and he wasn’t happy. “Be seated.” Judge Smith was moving with speed and purpose as she ascended the steps and reached her bench. “It is the district attorney’s office …” Jeffrey Taylor had attempted to regain the spotlight he felt only he deserved. The reporters again turned back to Jeffrey and prepared their notepads and pens. “Mr. Taylor, certainly you are not holding a press conference in my courtroom, are you?” The District Attorney looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Your Honor, I was attempting to inform the press of the current situation.” Jeffrey was approaching the prosecutor’s table as he spoke. “I know exactly what you were intending to do Mr. Taylor and it won’t be done in my courtroom. Do you understand?” Judge Smith’s eyes remained on Jeffrey until he had reached the table. It was at this time she addressed the rest of the room. “I expect the individuals of the press to conduct themselves in a proper manner in my courtroom. I refuse to have the sanctity of my court diminished because of one case. If this becomes a problem I will not hesitate in closing the courtroom and expelling everyone. Understand?”
The silence in the courtroom accompanied by reporters, lawyers, and all others scurrying for seats answered the Judge’s question. No one dared challenge Judge Smith in her court. She had been on the bench for years and had a reputation for being a no nonsense judge who feared nothing; a result, perhaps, of being a woman in what certainly was, when she entered it, considered a man’s world. In order to succeed on the bench, a female judge had to be twice as hard as a man and twice as sure of herself or at least appear that way to the public. Jessica Smith was such a woman. When she attended law school Jessica Smith was one of only three women. Ostracized from the beginning, Jessica quickly learned she had to be the best to get any respect from her professors. The problem was, the more she excelled scholastically the more she was resented by her fellow male students. What resulted was a woman who finished in the top ten of her class and had a healthy disdain for all male attorneys. She practiced only a short time before she was elected to the bench. Jessica Smith was first elected due to an inept sitting
