Executive

…53

"What do you have?" A man in his thirties, wearing civilian clothes, asked the uniformed cop who was dragging Alex by her left arm through the main doors at the police station.

"Possession. Doesn't seem to be enough of it for intent to sell, but I'll get it weighed and let you know. Looks like meth, not sure yet."

"OK, I'll take it from here." Alex's arm changed hands from the uniformed cop to the plain-clothes cop.

"I am Detective Jordan Holt, narcotics division. What's your name?"

"Alex Hoffmann," she replied, still sobbing.

"Were you read your rights?"

"Yes."

"Wait in here," Holt said, pushing her into what seemed to be an interrogation room. She sat down on one of the two beat-up chairs, facing each other at a worn-out table. Holt uncuffed her and left.

She rubbed her wrists to re-establish blood flow. The initial shock was starting to clear, while she began to comprehend what was going on with her. She had been arrested. She had been found in possession of a controlled substance. This was her new reality. It was time to deal with it.

Holt stepped back through the door, followed by an older man, dressed in a relatively worn-out suit.

"This is my partner, Lieutenant Adrian Reyes," he said, and offered the spare chair to the older man.

"All right," Reyes said in a kinder voice, "what happened?"

All of Alex's knowledge of how police procedure worked was telling her to shut up and ask for a lawyer. Not a word was to be said. Everything she could say, would, indeed, be used against her in a court of law, just as Miranda warned. Nevertheless, all that theory wasn't worth much under pressure, when all she wanted was for someone to believe her.

"I don't know," she started saying. "I honestly don't," she insisted, when she saw the two detectives exchange disappointed, rolling-eye glances. She was going to be the "I don't know" cliché… how boring. "I was leaving work, and I got pulled over. I actually was stopped before I started," she threw out in a frenzy, not making much sense.

"Slow down," Reyes said. "Who gave you the meth?"

"That's the thing, I don't know. Really, I don't. I don't know where it came from, I hadn't seen it until the police officer took it out of my car, and I have never touched drugs in my life."

"Have you touched this particular packet?"

"No, not at all," she continued to plead.

"So, you're absolutely sure you haven't touched this bag of drugs?" She nodded energetically. "All right," he continued, "are you using any drugs?"

"No, never," she said.

"Not even smoke a joint now and then? To take the edge off?"

"No, never."

"How about prescription drugs, such as Valium, or Xanax, or Oxycodone?"

"No, I'm not taking anything. You can test me, and you'll see I'm not lying."

"We will," Reyes said, leaving the room.

Minutes later, a technician was fingerprinting her, using dated technology involving an inked roller, to stain the tips of her fingers, and a fingerprint 10-print card. He manipulated her fingers gently, yet impersonally. One of the most traumatic events in her life meant absolutely nothing to this man.

When he was done, she was escorted to a small lab at the back of the station for the drug test. This area was up-to-date in technology, as the young lab technician immediately explained.

"The urine drug test is almost instantaneous and gives us information about trace amounts of many recreational substances in your system. Sign here, please," he said, offering her a release form where she signed in confirmation that she was aware of how the drug test process was being handled. "As the urine is collected in this small plastic jar, these side strips, covered with chemical reactives, will turn color if your urine contains the residue of the specific drugs they indicate. For example, if this particular stripe colors green, you're positive for heroin. These five strips at the end are measuring the physical characteristics of the urine, indicating if you attempt to tamper with the test, by taking a diuretic, to dilute the drug concentration in your urine. Ready?"

She nodded. This was going to be easy. She would pee in the cup, the test would come back negative, and then they would apologize and release her. By tomorrow morning, all this would be just a bad memory.

"You have to take your jacket off and leave the restroom door open. We have to make sure you're not tampering with the test. Please don't flush before handing me the urine."

Silently, she went in, wiped the soiled toilet seat with some toilet paper, and sat on it. Urinating came easily, after so much stress. She handed the cup to the lab technician, and washed her hands.

"We have to wait for a minute or so," the tech said, rolling the filled cup on its side, so that urine would come in contact with all the reactive strips. He peeled off a piece of adhesive from the side of the cup and picked up the phone.

"We're done here. She's positive for meth."

Alex felt a kick to her stomach.

"No, no, that can't be true! I swear to you I have never touched any drugs, please test me again," she pleaded, sobbing hard.

Detective Holt came through the door.

"You almost had us fooled, you know."

"You have to believe me, please, I am not taking any drugs! Test me again, do a lie detector test, do whatever, but please believe me!"

"Chemistry never lies, missy, this is it. You have methamphetamine in your system. Regardless of how it got there, right now it doesn't make you look good at all. Let's go."

"Where are you taking me?"

"We're going to book you, do some paperwork, and prepare your arraignment."

Holt led her to the same interview room she had occupied before. Another young technician came to take her clothing in a paper bag, offering her a jumpsuit instead. The jumpsuit stank of chemical cleaners, and was stiff and rough to the touch. Initially repelled by the smell, Alex realized that the smell of disinfecting chemicals was, in fact, a guarantee that these suits were cleaned before being handed over from one prisoner to the next.

Prisoner! The word resonated in her brain. She decided to finally apply the wisdom she had deliberately ignored until now. She knocked on the mirrored window. Holt opened the door.

"I'd like to have a lawyer present, please, and I'd like to make my phone call now."

Holt disappeared, and soon reappeared with a cordless phone. She looked at the time — almost 10:00PM. She dialed Tom's home number.

"Hello?" His warm voice brought back tears to her eyes.

"Tom? Hi, it's me, Alex."

"Hi, what's up?" He sounded a bit worried.

"I don't know how to say this… I was arrested for drug possession tonight, I'm at San Diego Police, West," she said, between uncontrollable sobs.

"Arrested?" Tom repeated in disbelief.

"I never took any drugs… but they tested me and found me positive for meth."

"Oh," Tom said, in a visibly colder voice.

"Please help me get out of here," Alex pleaded, her eyes flooded in tears.

"Oh, Alex, drugs were never part of the deal, you know. I'm afraid you're on your own. When it comes to drugs, well, for me they're a game changer. Once you've taken that path, well, there's no real turning back."

"No, you've got to believe me, I never took any drugs!"

"Alex, please, calm down. If you're indeed innocent, this situation will resolve on its own. If that's the case, get back in touch with me later, so we can resume our work together. I'm sorry, but that's all I can do," Tom said, then hung up.

She crouched on the floor, hugging her knees, and sobbing hard. She was all alone again, and the nightmare was there to stay.