The Simple Truth

Rufus shook his head impatiently. Then you got a pen?

Michael nodded dumbly.

Then pull it out and start tapping on the table. Theyve probably heard all they need to hear by now anyway, but well leave em a few surprises.

When Michael started to say something, Rufus interrupted. No words, just tap. And listen.

Michael began to tap the table with his pen. The guard glanced over but said nothing. Rufus spoke so softly that Michael had to strain to hear him. You shouldnt have come here at all. You dont know the chance I took to get that piece of paper out of this place. If you read it, you know why. Killing some old black con who strangled a little white girl, people wouldnt give a damn. Dont think they would.

Michael stopped tapping. That was all a long time ago. Things have changed.

Rufus let out a grunt. Is that right? Why dont you go knock on Medgar Everss or Martin Luther Kings coffin and tell em that? Things have changed, yes sir, everything be all right now. Praise the Lord.

Thats not what I meant.

If the people I talked about in that letter were black, and I was white and I didnt call this place home would you be here right now checking up on my story?

Michael looked down. When he looked back up, his expression was pained. Maybe not.

Sure as hell not! Start tapping, and dont stop.

Michael did so. Believe it or not, I want to help you. If the things you described in your letter did happen, then I want to see justice served.

Why the hell you care about somebody like me?

Because I care about the truth, Michael said simply. If youre telling the truth, then I will do everything in my power to get you out of this place.

Thats sure easy enough to say, aint it?

Mr. Harms, I like to use my brains, my skills, to help people less fortunate than I am. I feel its my duty.

Well, thats real nice of you, son, but dont go patting me on the head. I might bite your hand off.

Michael blinked in confusion, and then it registered. Im sorry, I didnt mean to be condescending. Look, if youve been wrongly imprisoned, then I want to help you get your freedom. Thats all.

Rufus didnt say anything for a minute, as though attempting to gauge the sincerity of the young mans words. When he finally leaned forward again, his features were softer, but his ma

It aint safe to talk about this stuff here.

Where else can we talk?

No place that I know of. They dont let people like me out for vacation. But everything I said is true.

You made reference to a let

Shut up! Rufus said. He looked around again, his eyes locking for a moment on the large mirror. Wasnt it with what was filed?

No.

All right, you know my attorney. You said his name before.

Michael nodded. Samuel Rider. I tried to call him, but he didnt call me back.

Tap louder. Michael picked up the beat. Rufus glanced around and then began speaking. Ill tell him to talk to you. Whatever you need to know, hell tell you.

Mr. Harms, why did you file your appeal with the Supreme Court?

Aint no higher one, is there?

No.

Didnt think so. We get newspapers in here. Some TV, radio. Ive been watching them people over the years. In here you think a lot about courts and such. Faces change, but them judges can do anything. Anything they want to. I seen it. Whole countrys seen it.

But from a purely legal technical point of view there are other avenues you really have to pursue in the lower courts before your appeal can be heard there. You dont even have a lower court ruling from which youre appealing, for instance. In sum, your appeal has numerous flaws.

Rufus shook his head wearily. I been in this place half my life. I aint got all that much time left. I aint never been married, I aint never go

Michael looked at him curiously. Are you sure theres not another reason you filed it with the Supreme Court?

Rufus looked blankly at him. Like what?

Michael let out a breath he hadnt realized he was holding. It was certainly possible that Rufus wouldnt know the positions now held by some of the men named in his appeal. Never mind.

Rufus sat back and stared at Michael. So what do them judges think about all this? They sent you down here, didnt they?

Michael stopped tapping and said nervously, Actually, they dont know Im here.

What?

I havent actually shown anyone your appeal, Mr. Harms. I . . . I wanted to be sure, you know, that it was all aboveboard.

Youre the only one thats seen it?

For now, but like I said

Rufus looked at Michaels briefcase. You didnt bring my letter with you, did you?

Michael followed his gaze to the briefcase. Well, I wanted to ask you some questions about it. You see

Lord help us, Rufus said so violently that the guard braced himself to pounce.

Did they take your briefcase when you come in? Because two of the men I wrote about are at this prison. One of them is in charge of the whole damn place.

Theyre here? Michael went pale. He had confirmed that the men named in the appeal were in the Army back in the seventies. He knew the current whereabouts of two of them, but he hadnt bothered to locate the others. He froze, suddenly realizing that he had just made a potentially fatal mistake.

Did they take your damn briefcase?

Michael stammered, Just just for a couple of minutes. But I put the documents in a sealed envelope, and its still sealed.

You done killed us both, Rufus screamed. Like a hot geyser, he exploded upward, flipping the heavy table over as though it were made of balsa wood. Michael leaped out of the way and slid across the floor. The guard blew his whistle and grabbed Rufus from behind in a choke hold. Michael watched as the giant prisoner, shackled as he was, flipped the two-hundred-pound guard off like a bothersome gnat. A half dozen other guards poured into the room and went at the man, swinging their batons. Rufus kept tossing them off like a moose against a pack of wolves, for a good five minutes, until he finally went down. They dragged him from the room, first screaming and then gagging as a baton was wedged against his throat. Right before Rufus disappeared, he stared at Michael, horror and betrayal in his eyes. *����*����* After an exhausting struggle that had continued all the way down the hallway, the guards managed to strap Rufus to a gurney.

Get him to the infirmary, somebody screamed. I think hes going into convulsions.

Even with the shackles and thick leather restraints on, Rufus wildly gyrated, the gurney rocking back and forth. He kept screaming until someone stuffed a cloth into his mouth.

Hurry up, dammit, the same man said. The group burst through the double doors and into the infirmary.

Good God! The physician on duty pointed to a clear space. Over here, men.

They swung the gurney around and slid it into the empty spot. As the doctor approached, one of Rufuss thrashing feet almost clipped him in the gut.

Take that out of his mouth, the doctor said, pointing at the handkerchief balled up in Rufuss mouth. The prisoners face was turning a deep purple. One of the guards looked at him warily. You better take care, Doc, hes gone nuts. If he can reach you, hell hurt you. He already took out three of my men. Crazy SOB. The guard looked menacingly at Rufus. As soon as the cloth was pulled from his mouth, Rufuss screams filled the room.

Get a monitor on him, the doctor said to one of the attending nurses. Seconds after they managed to attach the sensors to Rufus, the doctor was closely watching the erratic rise and fall of Rufuss blood pressure and pulse. He looked at one of the nurses. Get an IV over here. To another nurse he said, An amp of lidocaine, stat, before he goes into cardiac arrest or has a stroke.