BLACK BOOT DIARIES – Squidgate Trial Part 3

“I look to you and I see nothing. I look to you to see the truth.”
–Mazzy Star

—–

Continued…

Let me back up just a little bit. On December 22, 2009, in the morning, I faxed a letter to the judge in the preliminary hearing requesting that there be no trial. In preliminary examinations (similar to a grand jury hearing but where the judge makes the decision as to whether or not to proceed), the judge is permitted to hear opinions and other things that he would not normally allow at trial. (The next morning was the Conway fire around 3 or 4am and the strange smoke incident nearly in front of Jeremy Scahill’s place around 9am).

The letter explained how I had heard of Peter Watts, a little about my background (many soldier relatives, a few cops, and at the time I did not consider myself a pacifist nor particularly progressive–more moderate–where security was concerned), and several reasons why I thought the case should not proceed. I mentioned tourism and the economy (it’s self-defeating). I mentioned the behavior of ICE with regards to immigrants and cited a Nation article about them (is this the country we want to live in?). I also pointed out that the notion that the 9/11 hijackers came across the Canadian border was incorrect. (This lie likely originated on FOX, and yet Republicans in the legislature criticized and asked DHS Sec. Napolitano to step down when she repeated this falsehood).

I didn’t have the chance to sign it because I sent it over the Internet. It occurred to me as I got on the subway that it might be rejected as a result. I would learn from Caitlyn later that the letter did not get read during the preliminary examination. I also learned that many, many friends and/or relatives of Andrew Beaudry attended that event, applying pressure to the judge. Also, the p.e. was supposed to be earlier that this, but the judge, Monaghan, had “heart issues” just two people in line before he got to Watts. Note the repeated references to electronic means to accomplish this cited on this blog, not to mention plain ol’ drug slipped into food or drink, absorbed through the skin.

There are so many obvious and possible Cold War era ploys throughout all of these events that I marvel that anyone could think it anything other than what it is.

I also would like to note something else here that should have been mentioned in Part 2. Beaudry’s voice. Deep, rough. The kind of thing action film commercial voice-overs are made of. The kind of thing that winds you up in Westerns and any other macho-required genre.

Once Adair turned the case over to the jury on Thursday morning, we waited patiently. And then there was no word.

We took a break for lunch. After I returned, I overheard Beaudry talking to the ADA. These were the first words I heard him say apart from on the stand testifying.

“I thought this would take ten minutes! I don’t get it.”

By now, he and some other people were starting to wonder who I was, why I was there.

We spent some time waiting. Soon, the frustration of not knowing was annoying the border guards as much as it was Peter, Caitlyn and myself. What was taking so long?

We even wound up having a few conversations in the hallway. Peter discussed running with the ADA and Dupuis. He said he did seven miles every day. I noted that I was more of sprinter than a long distance runner.

Dupuis mentioned that the guards have to pay for their own gym memberships. I said I’d write my reps about that (especially in light of a recent article stating they were going to be issued shotguns on Uncle Sam’s dime). Think I probably sent one of those to the White House as well as Schumer, Gillibrand and Velazquez.

I suggested rather cannily that there was always the fire department. (That which I did not say aloud, “Perhaps Beaudry missed his calling…charging like that through a burning building could earn someone a medal.”)

Doug threw in, “Yeah, if you don’t wind up getting burnt and in the hospital.”

“Yeah, there’s that.”

This reference to the Conway fire, which I had mentioned on Peter’s blog was completely lost on Dupuis. No visible reaction at all. Further evidence to my mind at the time that it wasn’t likely them in any way, keeping in mind that I had not yet seen Beaudry’s dad and brothers and had no ideas about who might have been in the truck doing the smoke trick on the morning of December 23.

The jury requested to see the video again and asked for clarification on some legal point. First, because of the technical requirements for the former, Adair took care of the second. He very, very carefully read the statute again and provided no guidance whatsoever apart from it being up to them. The jury was in essence in an argument and was looking to the judge to settle it. He refused and wisely so.

I think the video was scheduled for first thing Friday morning. We adjourned.

I started to walk out. Now, Dupuis and Beaudry were curious about who I was. We wound up walking out together. The front doors being locked, we had to seek a way out the back of the building. They followed me. Oddly excited about who I was.

When we finally emerged, my eye was caught by a cherry red Mustang convertible. It was without a doubt the only car I’d seen in Port Huron that I might have wished to have been driving instead of the Eclipse.

“That’s the judge’s car,” Beaudry said to Dupuis and the other guard (not Behrendt, who had decided to work instead of attending the rest of the trial).

“This is Adair’s?!?” I asked.

“Yep,” he replied.

“Holy s***!”

They laughed. We had a human moment. Another one beyond being frustrated with the jury and political policy.

I waited for Peter, Doug, Caitlyn and Caitlyn’s parents. They did not emerge. Instead, Adair did and caught me redhanded salivating over his set of wheels.

“You the young man I’ve seen sitting in my courtroom?”

“Yes, sir.”

I followed up with questions about the car. We discussed a vacation he and Mrs. Adair had taken in his previous Mustang, an older model. Then he took his leave to go pick up or meet with the missus some place.

Then the defense, defendant and family emerged. I walked over, but they had seen me talking to Adair. Frightened over the prospect of what this nut might have said to him, they avoided eye contact. I found that humorous for some reason.

Back to the hotel, dinner, and actually I don’t remember where I wound up. Think that might have been the night I found a seafood place.

To be continued…

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