The unseasonably cold wind from the north offered little protection for people like me, who lived on the streets despite it being well into spring. Two blocks away from me, there was a hostel that at least offered a warm shower and some hot food but it didn't open until 6 pm. That was hours away and I’d already been warned off from two places where I’d tried to shelter from the wind.

Staying out of that wind was my main concern. Eventually, I found an alley between two boarded-up buildings that blocked the worst of the gale and settled down to wait for the hostel to come to life. These hostels might be pretty basic and often smelt of a mixture of Lysol, old sweat and stale urine, but they are a lifeline to people like me. We can get some hot food and a shower. Some of the larger places even have facilities that allow us to wash clothes or have a doctor who would visit once or twice a week. This particular one was new to me having arrived in town in the early hours after a trucker took pity on me in the pouring rain of the early morning, more than 100miles down the road. The warmth of his cab and the conversation had been a welcome respite from the rain that had now been blown south by the wind. At least where I parked myself was relatively dry and there was only the faint odor of rat droppings and urine.

Just about the only thing that I could see from my shelter was a couple of car dealerships. Watching the comings and goings of their customers was about it for my amusement until the lure of the homeless shelter proved too much to refuse in a few hours. I debated moving to another location but decided that there was little chance of being moved on unless the local Police decided that I was a threat to their very existence and threw me out of town. It had happened before and I know that it will happen again. That is a fact of life for the homeless. It is just a matter of when and something that people like me get used to along with the beatings for having the temerity to want to stay alive.

The nearby Bus Interchange was a favorite place for people like me but another homeless guy like me said that the recent employment of a security guard who was keen to make an impression had limited the places where we could sit out the cold days before the warmth of the Hostel beckoned. I thanked him for his warning and treated him to a warm drink from the back door of a nearby café.

After I’d been sheltering for about an hour, the wind shifted around to the North West. My shelter was now not so good. I was thinking of moving to a café for something warm to drink when a black VW Sedan sped along the road in front of the VW dealership. There was nothing wrong or out of the ordinary with that apart from its speed.

The car hardly slowed down before the driver swung left and went right into the glass of the display unit that ironically showed an image of the same model of car. The glass smashed and the car disappeared into a void that I hadn’t known existed until then.

I resisted the temptation to laugh even though it was comical. Instead, I leapt to my feet and went to help.

As far as I could tell, there was no smoke from the wreck. The lack of other people coming to investigate told me that no one else had seen or heard what had just happened.

“Hello?” I called out.

I didn’t get a response other than a groan. The driver was still alive which was good.

I looked around once more and could see that no one else was rushing to help. That left me in a bit of a quandary. Should I go for help or should I help right away?

I chose the former and ran into the dealership where I was met with several angry faces probably for opening the door and letting in the cold air.

“Get the hell out of here. We don’t want your sort in here!” shouted a salesman who started to come towards me looking very angry as soon as I set foot in the door.

“Hold on there. I want to report an accident. A black VW had just crashed into your advertising display.”

“Yeah, and my name is Henry Ford,” shouted the salesman.

“Just come and look. Then call 911.”

“Yeah, I’ll get them to arrest you.”

“That would be good. A nice warm cell!”

He stopped in his tracks. Then he stepped towards me looking even angrier. His bulging waistline looked like it wanted to pop out of his shirt any second. The short tie and moustache made him look like Oliver Hardy. All he needed was a bowler hat.

“Just get the hell out of here before we have to fumigate the place.”

I could see that I was going to get nowhere fast. I left him to gloat with his mates about how he’d run a homeless wretch out of his precious showroom.

I ran back to the scene of the accident and climbed down into the void. As I did, I could hear another groan coming from the wreck which was laying on its side.

The passenger side door was on the top so I tried to open it. To my relief, it opened up and I could see the driver still strapped into her seat.

The smell of gasoline was ever-present so I knew that I had to act fast. If any of that got onto the hot exhaust then it was curtains for both of us. I leaned into the passenger compartment and unclipped the driver’s seatbelt. The driver slid a bit farther into the wreck but the inflated airbags seemed to have stopped them from going too far. I heard air escaping from them, which made me act even faster.

“Hold on, let me get you out. I’m going to pull you up and out the passenger door.”

She let out another groan so I took this as tacit approval for what I was about to do. I put my hands under her armpits and heaved. Thankfully, she was a small woman and she began to move toward me. I adjusted my position and heaved again. This time, she came free.

Now came the problem of getting her out of the pit. It was then that I spied a set of steps leading upwards at the end of the pit.

“Let’s get you out of here before that fuel ignites,” I muttered.

I put one of her arms over my shoulder and together we not only made it to the steps but to the top and out onto the street.

I looked around but there was still no one coming to help.

I leaned her against the wall and went back into the pit to check that she was alone in the car. The back seat was clear. The last thing I wanted to find was a child strapped into a car seat but the only items there was a load of groceries that had escaped the paper bags that they had been packaged in.

I returned to the road and after putting her arm around my shoulder again, I walked her into the showroom.

If I had been expecting a change in attitude then I was sorely mistaken.

Before I knew it, I was flat on my face and had a very overweight man sitting on me. He screamed,
“We told you to keep out but you didn’t.”

I tried to explain that the woman had been in a car crash but that got nowhere. All I could hear was ‘he’s beaten her up, call the cops!’.

Struggling was getting me nowhere so I resigned myself to the inevitable… the arrival of the cops, being arrested before I could give my side of the story and being thrown into jail.

This is the norm for people like me and I have come to expect it even in places where people like me are in the minority… I’m black or at least a half-caste. Mom was black and dad was a rich white guy who had an affair with my mother. I don’t need to tell you the rest. I’d taken to the streets after Mom died or rather was murdered by my father and his top ‘fixer’.

I left my hometown soon after the coroner had taken Mom’s body away because I knew that I was next on the list. I only stayed in the state long enough to see her death be ruled a suicide. How a woman can strangle herself is beyond me but… who is to argue with officialdom, especially a thirteen-year-old kid?

My Dad, the white guy was running for Governor and I was a loose end that needed sweeping away with the trash. Mom had warned me that this might happen at some point so we had prepared an escape plan for me. At first, I wanted us to just leave but she knew that it was impossible. I'd never forget her words that sealed it, 'I can run but I can't hide from him and his ilk. I'm best off staying right here but you don't have to. We need to work together and prepare you for another life. We can get you some insurance that will take him down at the right time in the future’.

That was the day that the eight-year-old me had grown up and become a man. I might have been a scrawny kid without an ounce of fat on my frame, but I was the man of our house.

It had worked and now almost five years after her murder, I was still alive. My father was Governor and not a nice guy. He was on the extreme right of politics and neck-deep in corruption but that was on the other side of the country from here, the state of Oregon. But even here and thanks to the Internet, I'd read an article in the local newspaper, 'The Examiner' about him announcing that he was standing for re-election in 18 months.

His plans to gerrymander the districts were just mad to me but the paper was clear that this was just to ensure his victory along with purging voter rolls.

Voting was not something I’d ever thought about but once I was eighteen, I was legally able to but not having an address or any valid ID, that was out of the question.

---

Despite my pleadings to the cops, I was as I expected, processed and thrown into jail. The charge was vagrancy, assault and battery and resisting arrest.

I knew that the vagrancy charge would not stick especially since they’d confiscated almost one thousand dollars from me. I’d worked almost all the previous winter on a farm for minimum wage plus food and board. I’d saved most of the money but that was no good. The cops said that the money was from peddling drugs and that was it, it was gone under ‘civil asset forfeiture rules’ and I was declared a vagrant.

Such was the disdain they had for people like me, they never bothered to check the scene of the accident for over two hours. Eventually, they got fed up with my complaints and sent an officer to check the dealership and the hospital. After he’d reported back, all mention of attempted murder, assault and resisting arrest charges disappeared into thin air. The vagrancy one was not negotiable. The local cops wanted to hang something on me out of spite.

All my pleas for a lawyer went unanswered as did my request for something to eat and drink. I’d not even been read my rights.

I resigned myself to a night in the cells. At least it was reasonably warm and dry. Small mercies I know but beggars can’t be choosers. Begging was something that I’d never resorted to. There was work and a place to sleep available if you looked hard enough and kept your head down and didn’t interfere in other people’s business. That included asking too many questions. I’d soon learned to keep my mouth shut.

---

The following morning, I was taken to arraignment court although I had not been read my rights or allowed access to a lawyer as the constitution says. However, as someone who is considered a non-person by many PDs, it hardly matters to them if they follow the law or not.

“Jonas Madeley, you are charged with assault and vagrancy,” said the judge.
“How do you plead?”

“Judge, I have been denied my rights under the 4th Amendment of the Constitution. Specifically, I have not been read my rights and have been denied legal representation despite repeated requests. I have also been denied any food or drink since my arrest yesterday. I was told in no uncertain terms by Sergeant Lewis that if I complained any more, I’d regret it. Until I have a chance to exercise my constitutional rights I refuse to plead. I will assert my fifth amendment rights to any further questions until I have legal representation and have had the opportunity to discuss my case in private with my legal representative.”

The Chief of Police looked pretty angry. I guessed that it was due to me being a bit of a wise guy when it came to my rights. I made a mental note to tread carefully should his department get their hands on me at the end of the hearing.

The Judge looked at me and then at the ADA.

“ADA Jankovic, is this right about the denial of legal representation?” he asked the ADA.

“As far as I know, the accused has not requested any.”

“Well, he has now. Get him a Public Defender and we will visit this again tomorrow.”

As he was about to say 'case adjourned', he said,
“And get this man a shower and something to eat. Chief, you might not like people like Mr Madeley in your town but they are a fact of life. I am sure that I don’t need to remind you that like any citizen, those who are homeless do have the same rights under the constitution as you and I do. It is beholden for me to remind you that both your department and the PD officers have a duty of care to people in their custody. Do I make myself clear?”

The chief of police looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“Alan Jankovic as the ADA, I hold you personally responsible for the safety of Mr Madeley. Do you understand? If he appears here tomorrow unfed, unwashed or even with one scratch on his body, I will hold you in contempt and that means time in the county lockup. Do I make myself clear?”

The ADA also looked rather uncomfortable.
“Yes, your honor. I understand.”

“Good. Case adjourned for 24 hours.”

---

Any hopes I had of being treated well went out the window right away. Instead of just being handcuffed, I was fully shackled before being led back to my cell. They didn't bother to remove them when the door closed behind them.

Some food was supplied but being shackled I could not eat it or drink any of the water that they gave me. Being shackled also prevented me from using the toilet.

It wasn’t until early evening that someone came to see me.

“Hello Mr Madeley, I’m your Public Defender. My name is Teresa North.”

"Nice to see you, Ms North. Can you get these things off of me?"

She shook her head.
“The Desk Sergeant said that you were under suicide watch.”

I laughed.

“What is so funny?”

“I’ve been in these since my case was held over. I have been unable to eat or drink or as you can see, use the toilet.”

“They say that you refused the food and drink.”

“I can hardly eat or drink with my hands shackled to my waist now, can I? A bit of a ‘Catch-22’ situation perhaps?”

“I agree,” said Ms North as she took my photo with her phone.

“But they make the rules.”

“They do I’m afraid.”

“Ok, what about these charges?”

“The woman you are supposed to have assaulted has given a statement. You rescued her from a car crash so any charges relating to assault have been officially dropped.”

“That’s old news. They were only mentioned in passing in court today. What about the vagrancy charge? They took almost a thousand dollars from me. I worked for weeks shovelling cow shit to make that money on a farm near Lakeview.”

“They say that it is the proceeds of drug trafficking and are making it subject to civil asset forfeiture.”

“And as I don’t have any money, I’m classed as a vagrant. Another Catch-22 I think?”

She chuckled.
“Indeed. I can make representations to the Judge tomorrow.”

“He seemed a decent sort… for a Judge.”

She smiled.
“Judge James had been a thorn in the backside of the DA and PD for the last twenty years. Sadly, he is not standing for re-election next November so he has no electors to cosy up to.”

“That explains a lot. Politics is a dirty game.”

“You sound like you have experience of that?”

“I do but that is not relevant to the here and now.”

I didn’t say anything for well over ten seconds.

“Ms Lewis, there is something about me that you need to know. I’m trans.”

Her shoulders sank.
“How far along are you?”

“I have breast implants but I still have my equipment below if you get my meaning. If I am going to jail then the authorities need to know so that I’m not put in with the male general population. I would not survive a day in there.”

“I understand. It is highly unlikely that you’d go to jail for vagrancy but you can never know with the DA. He’s up for re-election so…”

“He wants the absolute max sentence for every crime no matter how small just to tell his donors that he is up to the job for another term?”

“He does and that makes me mad. The editor of the local paper is on a crusade against him after one of their reporters was locked up for exercising his 1st amendment rights. It took an appeal to the State Supreme Court to get him out. The damages case is still pending and has been for three years.”

Ms Lewis stood up.
“Let me try again to get you out of those shackles. I see no evidence that you need to be on suicide watch.”

"That would be nice but I don't think that you will win on this one. It is clear that the local PD doesn't like me."

She smiled.
“They should be giving you a medal for rescuing that driver instead you have to suffer all this.”

“People like me don’t get medals. We are like the ugly duckling and get told ‘get out of town’.”

She didn’t answer but smiled back at me.

---

I was still wearing the shackles when I was hauled up in front of the Judge the next morning.

After calling the court to order, the Judge said,
“Chief, what is the meaning of the shackles?”

“Suicide watch Judge.”

“And the reasons are?”

"We deemed that the offender might be likely to top himself so… we acted in accordance with the approved department policy."

“Mr Madeley. What do you say on the matter?”

“Judge, I am not suicidal but because of these…” I rattled the chains.
“I have not been able to eat or drink or use the toilet. I am afraid that I have soiled myself.”

The judge shook his head.
“That is not good. Chief, please remove those shackles.”

Reluctantly, one of the deputies removed the chains.

“Chief, did I or did I not instruct you to allow Mr Madeley to have a shower?”

“Yes, your honor you did make such a ruling.”

“Did you?”

“We deemed that preventing a possible suicide was preferable,” said the chief.

“Then the answer is no then?”

“That is correct Judge.”

The Judge turned to me and said,
“Mr. Madeley, all charges are dismissed with prejudice. You are free to go.”

I didn’t move. The judge saw this.

“Is there something else Mr. Madeley?”

"Yes, your honor. The almost one thousand dollars in cash were seized at the time of my arrest. So far, the police seem to have been unable or unwilling to provide any evidence that I have as they say been peddling or trafficking drugs. I worked long and hard for that money and a simple phone call to the farmer who paid me the money for my labors would have confirmed but as far as I know that call has not been made.”

“Chief, did you try to verify the claims that Mr. Madeley made about the origin of the money that you confiscated?”

“We didn’t make the call your honor. Our department policy is that large sums of money found on criminals is regarded as the fruits of crime and confiscated as per the State Civil Asset Forfeiture regulations.”

"Why? Isn't that pretty basic police work? Investigating a crime or if indeed a crime took place? Mr. Madeley had not been convicted of any crime at the time he asked you to verify his claim so unless the law has changed, he was not a criminal. Innocent until proven guilty still stands I take it? Finally chief, you know only too well that calling someone a ‘criminal’ in a public place and especially a court and that person has not been convicted opens you up to a slam dunk lawsuit. Your comment is on the record. It is up to Mr. Madeley to decide if he wants to file suit against you and your department.”

If anyone had been expecting the Chief to react, they would have been mistaken. It was like water running off a duck’s back.

“We failed you honor,” said the Chief without even a hint of sorrow. It was more like he was proud of getting one over on someone who is very much homeless.

"Then you are to return the money to Mr. Madeley right now."

The chief looked rather uneasy.
“Your honor, we sent it to the DEA this morning as per our policy on civil asset forfeiture.”

“So, you can’t return the money?”

“That is correct your honor.”

“Chief, I am going to make a ruling. You are not going to like it but if you fail to carry it out, then you will be in contempt of court. Do you understand that and the implications of being in contempt of court?”

“I do your honor.”

“Chief, I am ordering you to provide Mr. Madeley with $1000 and those funds are to be given to Mr. Madeley within the hour. I am also going to award Mr. Madeley $100 compensation for depriving him of his legal rights, another $100 as compensation for being denied food and drink while in custody. I will be with Mr. Madeley in my chambers. We will be waiting. How you find the money or where you find it is no concern of mine. You took his money and it is only fair that you give it back. Are you clear on that? I am doing this because you have failed to produce any evidence of your claims that Mr Madeley is in any way involved with drugs. Do you understand this ruling? If not then I can easily rule on your contempt right now and send you to the county lockup?”

The very unhappy chief shuffled and looked around for help. The court remained silent.

“I am clear your honor.”

The Clerk handed the judge a note. He read it and smiled.
“I have just been told that you will receive 80% of that money you seized from Mr Madeley back in due course from the DEA. Is this correct?”

“Err… Yes, it is Judge.”

“I guess that little fact is not common knowledge then?”

“No, your honor,” said the Chief.

“Well, given that there are three journalists in court today, I don’t think it will remain a secret for very long. I do sincerely hope that all the money you receive back from civil asset forfeiture is properly accounted for. Is this the case Chief?”

“I am sure that it is,” he replied.
A bead of black sweat ran down the side of his face. A few people in court tittered. It seemed to me that the Chief of Police used some cheap hair dye. If I was one of the journalists, I’d make a big thing of it in my report.

“Will you be able to comply with my order regarding Mr. Madeley’s funds?”

“I will your honor.”

“Good. One hour from now.”

“Mr. ADA, did I or did I not give you some specific responsibilities right here in this very court one less than 24 hours ago?”

“You did your honor.”
He looked very unhappy.

“Did you carry out those responsibilities?”

“I am afraid that I did not, your honor.”

“Why didn’t you carry them out? It wasn’t as if they were unduly onerous for a man in your position?”

“Your honor, I agreed with the Chief that his department would carry them out as they are the ones on the ground.”

"You have heard the Chief admit that he failed to even try to look after Mr. Madeley. It appears that he invented some trumped-up idea that Mr. Madeley would be a suicide risk and kept him in shackles and denied him his basic rights afforded to us all under the constitution. Did you actually attend law school?"

“I did. Harvard Law. Class of ’98.”

"Then you should know better than to corrupt the legal system as you have done here. I am going to come down hard on this and maybe in the future, you will follow the law of the land for the betterment of society. For your failure to follow the direct instructions of this court, you are guilty of contempt of this court. You will spend the next week in the county lockup and furthermore, you will be shackled just like Mr. Madeley was last night for twenty-three hours a day. Denying a citizen their constitutional rights is not allowed.”

There was total silence in the court. People looked at each other with surprised expressions on their faces.
“You may wish to appeal this ruling. I am sure that the Appeals Court will take a similar view of your total disregard of this court in their ruling. To appeal is your right but tonight, you will be in jail. I might even report you to the Oregon Bar Association. There might even be a case for your disbarment.”

I looked at the ADA and he was squirming. That pleased me no end.

“Bailiffs, please take the ADA into custody. Make sure that he is processed according to the law of the land and detained as per my ruling.”

There was silence in the room as the ADA was led away.
“Court Adjourned.”
He banged his gavel and stood up.

I was a bit bewildered at what had gone on. All that I knew was that I was free to go and that I should have my money in a short time.

Ms Lewis, my Public Defender smiled at me. Then she said,
"I had a quiet word with the Judge before the court this morning. There is no love lost between him and the Chief of Police or the ADA.”

"Thanks for that. I would like to have a shower and get a change of clothes. My pack seems to have gotten lost. The last time I saw it was at the dealership.”

“It is probably long gone in the trash by now. I’ll go and get you something to wear.”

"Thanks, Ms. Lewis. I'll pay you for them when I get my money from the cops.”

She smiled and disappeared out of the court.

A bailiff led me to the judges’ chambers. He was waiting for me with a big smile on his face.
“Mr. Madeley, I have to apologize for the frankly abysmal behavior of the local PD and the ADA. They should know better.”

His words made me feel at least half-human again.

"Judge, I have grown used to being trodden on all the time by the Police. It is a fact of life for people like me."

“It should not be the case.”

I couldn’t answer that.

“There is a shower and other facilities through that door. Please use it at my convenience,” he said pointing at a door to the right of the one that we’d used to enter his chambers.

I made a move towards the door but stopped myself.
“Judge, there is something that you should know. I am transgendered. It might not look it but I have a pair of breasts. At the moment, they are strapped. It is hard enough for people like me being on the road but it is ten or even a hundred times worse for a woman."
He nodded his head.

“I know, Ms Lewis told me. That was one of my reasons for dismissing the case with prejudice. They can’t refile that charge for sixty days.”

“I’ll be long gone from the city and even the county by then.”

“Good. Please go and get clean, then we can have a proper talk.”

---

Half an hour later, I was feeling a lot better. Hungry but at least I was clean and had some clean clothes on my back. Ms Lewis had done a great job shopping for me. She’d even bought me a couple of sports bras. They were great in winter when coats would hide the fact that I had some implants in my chest. She’d even bought me a hairbrush and a couple of scrunchies. For the first time in weeks, I began to feel half human again.

Just before the hour was up, a clerk from the court appeared with an envelope. Inside it was one thousand two hundred dollars in small bills. The clerk also gave the judge a note. He read it and shook his head.

Just having that money in my pocket made me feel ready to face the world. I paid Ms Lewis for the clothes before standing up and heading toward the door.

“Mr Madeley, I would not go out there if I were you,” said the Judge.

“Why?”

“The note that the clerk handed me, said that local PD will be gunning for you. Not in the literal sense but they will use any pretext to arrest you with force. In case you hadn’t noticed, there were several reporters in the court today. They will make a big splash in their next edition on this. The local newspaper’s editor is on a crusade to make the PD and the local DA’s office more accountable. Your case will be front-page news and they won't like that one little bit.”

What he had said, made sense.
“The ADA is the chief’s brother-in-law.”

I understood what he was hinting at.

“What do you suggest then Judge?”

“What I suggest is that you come with me and that Ms Lewis follows us out of the city and the county. When we reach the county line, Ms Lewis can return. The cops would not want to try anything with a sitting Judge and a PD present. We are both officers of the court and they know how hard the state law people would come down on them should anything happen to us.”

“Where would you take me?”

“I have a cabin up in the hills over in Washington State. I suggest that I take you there. You can stay there for as long as you like. I don't use it since I stopped going deer hunting in the fall. It has become more of a place of sanctuary and soul calming for me.”

“I can’t impose on you like that. I don’t … well, I just don’t.”

“Bullshit. I’m not going to use it and as far as I know, no one around here knows about it other than the people in this room. Ms Lewis isn’t going to let on, are you? Attorney-client privilege and all that?”

“That is correct Judge.”

“Then we are good to go then?”

“What about provisions?”

“We can stop for them once we get over into Washington State.”

What he said made sense… again.

“Shall we go?”

Just before we left, a clerk from the court appeared with another message for the judge. She gave him a slip of paper. The smile that was on the judge’s face disappeared in a flash. He walked over to a shredder and put the message through it.

“Sorry about that. We need to get out of here, don’t we…? We have a good way to go before nightfall.”

[to be continued]
[authors note]
This is my first attempt at a political thriller (of sorts) and takes place at least 3000 miles from where I live so please forgive my foo-pahs and obvious mistakes.
Samantha