Page 99 of Ink's Devil

Seeing they won’t be getting an admission out of me, I’m returned to the cell.

The drunks have mostly sobered up and gone. There’s a man snoring off alcohol in the corner, but Monday night isn’t a busy one. The place still stinks though, and I already know what to expect when the drunk awakes and his hangover hits. Obviously depends on how much he imbibed, but I expect to be woken by vomiting or retching sounds again, or at least, a loud long piss hopefully in the correct receptacle.

I never thought I’d long to be sent to a proper jail where I’d have a cell, hopefully with a bunk to myself even if I had to share the room. Anything would be better than this. It’s a punishment all in itself.

My chin lowers to my chest and I allow myself to doze, keeping my senses on alert in case the drunk isn’t as incapacitated as he seems.

It’s another long night. When dawn breaks, I’m almost pleased that I’ve got something different today, my time in court. I tamp down any optimism of thinking I might make bail, it would only cause disappointment if I don’t. I resign myself to not being away long before I’m returned to a cell.

I expect the advisement hearing to be a formality. In Colorado, there’s a brief appearance before a judge, and then the arraignment will follow sometime later. Most people are allowed to walk free between the two court dates, but I already know from what I’ve seen with my brothers, wearing a one-percenter patch means those niceties aren’t often afforded. The prejudgement you’re a criminal is already made.

Obediently, I hold out my hands for the handcuffs to be attached before being led out of my cell. Sykes is waiting for me in the courthouse.

I’ve been to these hearings before, but only to give support to my brothers, never as a suspect myself. I’m shocked at how nervous I am, and how there’s an underlying feeling of guilt even though I’ve done nothing wrong. It seems all set up to intimidate.

We wait our turn, then I’m called in front of the judge. I notice Demon in the courtroom, but nobody else from the club, and no Beth which both pleases and disappoints. He gives me a chin lift of support, then my attention returns to the most important man in the room. The man who controls my future.

The judge takes off his glasses, stares at me for a second, then turns back to the paperwork in front of him.

After I’ve confirmed who I am, the judge asks, “Are you aware of the purpose of the advisement hearing, Mr McNeish?”

“I am, Your Honour.” I’ve seen it before, and Sykes has already taken me through the process.

“Hmm.” I seem to have taken the wind out of his sails, but then he continues his normal spiel apparently just in case. “I will advise you of the crime you have been arrested for, and the charges the district attorney intends to prosecute. We will then discuss bond and whether it’s applicable in your case.”

A legal man coughs, making the judge glance at him. When they exchange nods, I presume it’s to acknowledge the judge has already been advised against setting bail. I didn’t expect they would, so their unspoken conversation comes as no surprise.

The judge looks down at the documents again. “Mr McNeish, you are accused of being in possession of two kilos of heroin that you were supplying with intent to sell. These are the charges which will be brought up at your arraignment. Do you understand?”

At this preliminary hearing there’s no need for me to admit or deny my guilt, but I can’t help getting my dig in. “I understand how the police are twisting it.”

“A simple yes or no will suffice, Mr McNeish.”

As Sykes shoots a warning glance at me, I shrug. “Yes.”

“Have you got an attorney, Mr McNeish?”

I want to ask if he’s blind as Sykes is sitting right there in front of him but bite my tongue. “I have.”

“The DA has advised bail is not appropriate in this case—”

“Objection, Your Honour.” Sykes gets to his feet, tossing a glare at the other lawyer. “Mr McNeish is a Marine veteran with an unblemished record. This is his first arrest. There is nothing in his background to suggest he’d commit the crime of which he is accused, and in fact, everything points to it being unlikely.”

“Your Honour, Mr McNeish is a member of the outlaw motorcycle gang, the Satan’s Devils.” the other lawyer gets in fast.

The judge raises his eyebrow toward Sykes.

“He is indeed a member of a local motorcycle riding club,” Sykes refutes sternly. “The club runs several businesses in Pueblo and pays their taxes like everyone else. They contribute to the local economy and create employment for the community. That they ride motorcycles should not count against them.” He holds up his hand when the other lawyer tries to speak. “There’s been no trouble between the police and the Satan’s Devils MC for many years now, and in fact, the reason that Mr McNeish was arrested was because he was trying to help the police in their drug raid on Saturday.”

“We’re not here to try the case, Mr Sykes.”

“I am aware of that, Your Honour.” Sykes humbly accepts the rebuke. “I will confine myself to expressing Mr McNeish’s family is the Satan’s Devils Motorcycle Club. He lives and works in Pueblo where he’s been since leaving the Marines. Mr David Carter, the president of the MC will personally vouch for him and is prepared to put up bail.”

“We object, Your Honour. Mr McNeish is a flight risk.”

Again, the judge takes off his glasses and studies them. He then looks over toward me. I try to make myself look as small and unthreatening as possible, which isn’t easy for a man of my size. I have no expectations other than being returned to jail.

The judge doesn’t disappoint me. “Application for bail denied. Mr McNeish will be remanded in custody until his arraignment.”

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