The attorney shook his head and flipped open his hard-sided leather briefcase, pulling out several photos and laying them on the table.
He looked at me as I stared at the bloody photos of numerous slain children, murdered assassination style, still in their bedclothes. "Well, Lieutenant, there were when you left."
I stared at the table.
"My team engaged a heavily armed force within the facility. There were close to forty fully grown, armed men. We were pinned down on the roof of the mosque. I called in an airstrike. That can all be accessed via the satellite radio feed which the combat air controllers recorded. The helmet cameras should prove the rest."
The lawyer nodded. "The satellite radio feed is garbled and incomprehensible, and the helmet camera digital video recording is unavailable."
I slammed my fist on the table. "What the hell do you mean? That is TOP SECRET material. It should have been properly tagged and tracked by the medical personnel on the rescue helicopters."
The lawyer stood up. "I agree. But I'm just telling you where we stand. At this point it is looking like the trial will consist of your testimony plus the testimony of Chief Petty Officer Jones against the evidence on scene of what the media have dubbed the 'mosque massacre'."
I shook my head again, the cobwebs failing to clear.
The lawyer pulled a small black tape recorder from his briefcase and set it on the table. "I need to know everything. As your attorney, I'm cleared at the highest levels. Do not hold anything back. I need to know as much detail as you can muster about that night. The consequences of neglecting minor details cannot be overstated."
I stared at the photos of the bloody children on the desk. "What consequences might those be?" I asked.
The lawyer looked back at me, unblinking. "Lieutenant Pike, if you are convicted of these crimes, the government is likely to push for capital punishment."
Chapter 9:
When the cell door slammed closed behind me, I braced my back against the concrete wall and slid slowly to the floor, my eyes fixated on the stolid concrete wall directly in front of me.
I must have sat like that for a while. Before I knew it, the loud buzzing noise sounded once more and the heavy steel door to my cell was opening again.
A new guard was calling me into the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway. I sighed and stood slowly before walking into the harsh light.
"Lunch time," The chubby young Petty Officer said as he escorted me down the hallway in the opposite direction from the interrogation room where I'd spent the better part of the morning with my lawyer.
Myers seemed like a decent enough man and a diligent attorney.
I suppose I should be grateful for that.
We stepped into the large dining facility of the Naval Brig and I looked around. For the first time, I was exposed to the other prisoners.
These were not men in pretrial confinement like me, but men convicted of crimes by a military criminal court. These were men who were serving out their sentences.
If I was convicted, I wouldn't be fortunate enough to be sentenced here.
Norfolk Naval Brig is a Level One Facility, housing members convicted of lesser felonies and not deemed a hazard to themselves or others.
No, if I was convicted I would likely be sent to the only Level Three Military Correctional Facility in the country: Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.
It was strange. The Naval Brig in Norfolk's dining hall reminded me of a normal military dining hall.
Even the members within the facility were in uniform.
The men in the facility stepped in an orderly fashion through the line to the sneeze guard and received a simple metal tray with some type of slop spilling from the sides.
Some were given bread and water, obviously a form of punishment.
My study of the facility was cut short by a not-so-gentle nudge in the small of my back.
"Go on. Get in line. We'll be back to bring you to your cell after chow." The pudgy Petty Officer smiled a crooked, joyless grin and I complied.
I was the only man here wearing battle dress.
My attire and the SEAL trident emblazoned on my fading green uniform was enough to draw the attention of most everyone in the room as I stepped slowly towards the end of the line.
I could see men whispering to one another, could see them leaning in towards one another in my peripheral vision.
They had seen the news.
These men knew who I was, and moreover they knew what I was accused of.
I moved through the line and received my brown slop and white bread. I could tell now that the slop was some type of brown stew, more brown than stew.
I thanked the young man and moved on, searching for an open seat.
The room was large, interspersed with big round tables. The windows were set high and laced with chicken wire. They allowed in a decent amount of natural light, but prevented inmates from seeing the surrounding Naval facility. The walls were painted the same beige as the interrogation room where I had spent the morning with my attorney.
I wove slowly through the metal tables. None were completely full. I walked up to the closest and took a seat on the small affixed metal stool, nodding to the men around me.
As I did, all but one of the men stood and simultaneously carried their trays to other tables.
The man who remained stared quietly at his plate and took a sip of water.
"Aren't you going to leave too?" I asked as I dipped my white bread into the brown sauce on my plastic tray and slurped it hungrily into my mouth.
The man shook his head and turned back to his meal.
"Thanks for staying with me," I said.
The man nodded, before turning to look me dead in the eyes. "They think you killed all of those kids. Is that true?"
I shook my head. "No. No it is not."
He nodded. He was probably close to forty, one of the oldest inmates at the facility. Still, he was fit. Mandatory PT was likely a big part of the routine here.
He set his water cup down on the tray and stood up. Before leaving he lowered his voice slightly and leaned in. "Watch yourself in here. A lot of these men hate you for what you are accused of doing."
I nodded. I could sense the hostility since I walked into the room. "I will."
He turned and walked away, setting his tray on the scullery window sill before stepping down the long hallway that led to what I could only assume was the cell block.
Chapter 10:
The chubby young guard didn't stay away for long.
In fact, I was barely done wiping up the last of the brown residue from my plastic tray with the heel of a stale piece of bread when I sensed his presence behind me.
"You have a visitor." He said, and I stood.
I nodded and carried my tray to the same counter I'd seen the thin man leave his and stepped out the door to the long hallway.
We walked past my cell and back toward the beige interrogation room at the end of the hall.
As the door swung open slowly, Leigh stood up from behind the metal visitor's table.
I smiled, my face feeling like it was about to break. A sense of joy and relief washed over me. A tear dotted my vision..
She squeaked when she saw me and rushed over. She threw her thin arms around my neck hugged me close.
Behind us, the guard cleared his throat and she let go. "Sorry. They told me that I wasn't supposed to touch you."
I smiled slowly, tears coming fully to my eyes now as I moved towards the metal chair tucked on the opposite side of the table.
"How is Clementine?" I asked, as Leigh sat down next to me, adjusting the hem on her white skirt as she tried to sit daintily in the cold metal prison chair.
"She's confused, Jackson. Just like her mom."