Page 59 of Desert Loyalties
LaGuerta’s at the defence table, papers in order, pen in hand, cool as a freezer door. Doesn’t even glance my way as the marshal sits me down and loosens the chain so that I can sit and stand.
Before the hearing, she’d told me straight:
"What I told the club was this: if you wanna come, you come as normal people. No cuts, no ink, no piercings. I only want white-collar-looking guys in the gallery. Buttoned up. Clean. Like they do taxes, not murder. Optics, Drake. Everything in federal court is optics."
So, I scan the gallery.
There they are.
Skye’s here, just like I asked. Sitting in the second row, stiff in a blazer that makes her look adorable. She’s got a few of the brothers with her, clean shaven, no tatts visible. What surprises me is that Lehi is here, with his old lady, man’s a brother sure but he doesn’t exactly do support. Knuckles is here too with a pregnant chick by his side, last I checked he didn’t have a woman. Maybe he rented one just for this occasion. I hope she doesn’t stand up mid- hearing and announce it’s mine. Everyone is wearing a costume, a lie to show the judge I’m not an animal. That I matter to someone.
LaGuerta slides a notepad toward me, real slow.
On it, in block letters: “STONE FACE. DON’T REACT. TRUST ME.”
Then the judge comes in.
Gray hair, black robe, lady judge, who’s already looking at me like I’m scum. Great.
She begins “We’re here for the detention hearing inUnited States v. Drake Lloyd. Mr. Lloyd is charged under Title 18 with four serious federal crimes, including murder, witnesstampering, conspiracy to commit a federal offense, and obstruction of justice. Government’s motion for detention is under consideration.”
Prosecutor stands. Same guy. Probably proud of himself for putting ‘federal prosecutor’ in his Tinder bio.
Douchebag even talks like a douche “Your Honor, the government moves for continued detention. The defendant is accused of premeditated murder of a cooperating federal witness, a crime punishable by life imprisonment. The witness tampering charge reflects a clear intent to interfere with the integrity of the justice system. These are not crimes of passion or opportunity. They show planning. Organization.”
He looks toward the gallery, then back at the judge.
“Mr. Lloyd is associated with a structured criminal network. He has access to funds, to personnel, to means. The risk of flight is significant. And the risk to public safety is extreme.”
He settles into his chair, full of himself and certain the judge’s on his side.
LaGuerta doesn’t get up right away. She flips a page in her folder, taps her pen against the table once, then rises slowly. Calm. Grounded. She adjusts her glasses, then starts.
“Your Honor, Mr. Lloyd has been charged, not convicted. He’s entitled to the presumption of innocence. He was arrested at his place of work, without incident. He did not run. He did not resist. He has deep community ties in Nevada, is a business owner with no prior convictions, and no history of violence outside what the government now alleges.”
She turns slightly, gesturing subtly toward the gallery.
“Several of Mr. Lloyd’s business associates and employees are present in the gallery today. These are not criminals. They are professionals who work for Mr. Lloyd, some as partners, others as staff. Yes, many of them belong to the same motorcycle club, but that is not a crime. What matters is that they rely on the legitimate businesses Mr. Lloyd manages; logistics, warehousing, transport. Their presence today speaks to the role he plays in their lives as an employer and colleague.”
She lets that breathe for a second.
“He owns and operates three legal entities, warehousing, transport, and service contracts. The employees behind me depend on him. If he disappears, they don’t just lose a job. Some of them lose housing, food security. That is community connection.”
She walks the line carefully, never defensive, just rational.
“The defence proposes strict release conditions. Home confinement. GPS monitoring. No internet access. No unapproved visitors. Weekly check-ins. We are even willing to offer a third-party custodian who will ensure Mr. Lloyd remains compliant.”
The Judge doesn’t say anything right away. Just flips through some paperwork, then speaks without looking up, voice even but pointed as she addresses the room. “Does the defence contest the strength of the indictment?”
LaGuerta answers, never breaking her stride. “Yes, Your Honor. We believe the indictment is largely circumstantial. There is no forensic evidence tying Mr. Lloyd to the crime. The murder charge is based on a theory, not hard proof. The police haven’teven proved that the informant is dead, nor have they disclosed the identity of this person.”
Another pause, the judge tapping his pen once against the binder. “Is there direct evidence? Surveillance, recordings, anything implicating the defendant personally?”
The prosecutor speaks before LaGuerta can. “There are recordings, Your Honor, but many remain sealed due to their connection with ongoing operations and cooperating witnesses.”
LaGuerta doesn’t blink. “So, we’re being asked to keep a man in custody based on evidence the defence isn’t even allowed to examine.”
A silence stretches.
