Tortured Justice, South Carolina

By Richard Kammen

In a sequel to the critically acclaimed Tortured Justice Guantanamo Bay, Alicia Tobolada a beautiful young Mexican woman returns to South Carolina, where she accidentally kills a police officer while defending herself. With her one call, she calls Conner Mendelson a lawyer who helped her when she was deported the first t

• Language: English
• Publisher: MainSpring Books
• Release date: May 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891140356

Richard Kammen

Richard Kammen has retired from the practice of law specializing in death penalty cases. He now lives and writes in the Lowcountry of South Carolina and the mountains of Mexico.

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Copyright © 2024 by Richard Kammen.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 979-8-89114-033-2 (sc)

ISBN 979-8-89114-034-9 (hc)

ISBN 979-8-89114-035-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023922680

2024.05.09

MainSpring Books

5901 W. Century Blvd

Suite 750

Los Angeles, CA, US, 90045

www.mainspringbooks.com

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to the men and women, who as public defenders, fight for the rights of indigent people accused of crimes and the rights of migrants seeking asylum and/or a new life in the United States. They do what lawyers should always try to do. They fight for the oppressed and the powerless.

They are my heroes, and I believe they should be heroes to all of us.

I also dedicate this book to ABBA House in Celaya Mexico. The assistance provided to the men, women, and children who find themselves in Celaya on their flight from the horrors of Central America or on their journey to a difficult life, after deportation from the US, is remarkable and inspiring. A portion of the proceeds from this book will go to ABBA House.

Robert Jackson looked out his picture window.

The police are out there again. I am so sick of this. I’m gonna tell that guy to quit using our clearing for whatever they do back there.

His wife looked alarmed. The last thing we need is trouble with the police. Just let it go.

Nope. This is the fourth time this month that some cop has been parked back there. And this one has been there for over an hour.

Jackson walked down the lane and cut across the solid ground that bordered the tidal marsh between Dataw Island and the mainland east of Beaufort, South Carolina. It was dusk, and the wildlife was active. He could hear the swoosh of the egrets as they cruised the darkening sky, looking for fish. The marsh was making a soft sucking sound as the tide went slowly out. Jackson noticed a few crows hopping near the parked police car. As Jackson approached, the crows looked at him questioningly and hopped a few steps away. Then, when he didn’t stop, they flew into the twisted branches of the live oaks that bordered the marsh. Suddenly, Jackson realized what he was seeing and stopped. He took a step back and grabbed his cell phone.

The 911 operator tried to calm Jackson down as he shouted, There is a police officer down off Eddings Point Road about a half-mile off Sea Island Parkway near the marsh.

Sir, can you tell how badly he is injured?

Jackson slowly approached, talking into his cell. He knelt and rapidly said, I think he’s dead, ma’am, I’m pretty sure he’s dead. Send help, Then louder, Send help right away."

1

The call was from an 843 Area Code.

Connor Mendelson was sitting on his deck drinking coffee. The Sunday New York Times piled at his feet. The front page and the sports section were all he usually read. It was still early in the day, but the Midwest humidity was beginning to climb.

Connor glanced at the phone, wondering if the IRS would suspend his social security number or a warrant for his arrest would be issued if he didn’t answer, or maybe, he laughed to himself, he had won a vacation. Probably just another politician wanting money. But Connor was bored and willing to play the robocall lottery.

His hello prompted an electronic voice saying, "THIS CALL IS FROM A CORRECTIONAL FACILITY. IT IS BEING MONITORED. IT IS FROM: here, an actual person said, ‘Alicia Tobolada.’ IF YOU WANT TO ACCEPT THIS CALL, PRESS ONE. IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO ACCEPT, PLEASE HANG UP.

Mendelson thought, why would this Alicia, whoever she is, call me from an 843 jail? Where is 843? He pressed one and said, This is Connor Mendelson.

Mr. Connor?

The voice had a vaguely familiar Hispanic lilt. This is Alicia Tobolada. You tried to prevent my deportation about three years ago. Tried to stop the abuse of me and other women at the detention center in Texas.

He’d left Texas eighteen months ago, and there had been so many he’d tried to help.

Oh, yes. He said without conviction or commitment. How did you get my phone number?

I always kept your card. You and Ms. Darcy were so kind.

Who is this? I haven’t thought about Darcy in months. He said, So help me recall, how did Darcy and I help you?

There was a note of disappointment in Alicia’s voice as she said, You both helped me get to Celaya. You drove me there.

It all came back. What had happened to Alicia. Their efforts to help her. But mostly the trip to Celaya. The conversations they’d had. The hotel rooms. The bed. All of it. A light sweat formed on Connor’s forehead.

Alicia continued, I need help. I didn’t know who to call. Where are you? Connor asked.

In jail. In South Carolina. Beaufort, South Carolina. Mr. Connor, I need your help. She began crying.

When did you come back? Illegally? I assume, illegally. I don’t think there is much to prevent you from being deported again. However, they may charge you with illegal reentry and send you to a US prison. I could try to help you with your public defender. But South Carolina is a long way from here. So, there is not much I can do.

Alicia continued, Mr. Connor, I am arrested. There was a brief pause. For murder. I killed a policeman. I am so afraid. Then, through her tears, she continued to ask for help.

‘Connor, you should hang up now.’ But he didn’t, and even now when he thinks about Alicia Tobolada, he has feelings of pride, joy, deep sadness, and shame. And he frequently wonders how different his life would have been if he had just hung up the phone.

2

After finishing the call with Alicia, Connor went to his kitchen, looked at the clock, and decided it was too early, way too early, for a beer. So, he poured another cup of coffee and went back to the deck. I just can’t escape this shit.

It began in Guantanamo Bay. Everything started with Guantanamo Bay and Victoria Hancock. Connor’s wife, Molly, described Hancock as your white whale.

Guantanamo, GTMO. There, Connor had defended an accused terrorist, Hussain al-Yemeni, who was tried, convicted, and sentenced to death. But before the appeal could begin, Hussain died, supposedly by suicide. Connor was convinced the CIA had murdered al-Yemeni. And he was certain the CIA agent who supervised and participated in Hussain’s torture, Victoria Hancock, was responsible for his murder.

After al-Yemeni’s death, Connor had what he described as ‘the first installment of my mid-life crisis.’ He left his law firm, withdrew from life, played golf, and stewed.

Several months later, he was asked by the ACLU to look at the treatment of migrants detained at the border. After seeing the conditions and treatment of detainees at the West Texas Detention Center near the border near El Paso, Texas, Connor volunteered to assist an NGO that was representing detainees at the border. Several months later, he met Alicia.

The organization Connor volunteered to help assigned Connor and Darcy Zerfoss, a psychologist, to work as a team. They drew Alicia’s case. She was one of the thousands of people who’d tried to come to the United States. Most cases resulted in deportations that happened so quickly that the lawyers barely knew the clients’ names.

Darcy and Connor met with Alicia in a small, windowless, institutional-green room a few steps from the courtroom. The gray room had a spare, dark-green metal table, gray folding chairs, dull gray cement floors. When the guard let them into the room, Alicia briefly raised her head and then dropped it as the door slammed shut with a metallic thunk and the guard slowly turned the key with a scratchy grind.

Alicia’s handcuffed hands rested lightly on the worn table. She wore jeans washed to a very worn blue and a polyester shirt with a pattern of red, yellow, and purple flowers. Her long dark hair was a straggly mess, and she smelled like it had been days since she’d bathed. Alicia was marathon-runner thin. Yet she had some softness, some curves.

Connor thought she looked older than the nineteen years her paperwork claimed. But he did not take the paperwork too seriously because he’d learned that much of the information in it was, at best, wrong and, at worst, completely made up. Connor took the lead using his minimally functional Spanish.

Hello, I am Connor Mendelson. I am a lawyer. This is Dr. Zerfoss, and she is a psychologist. We work together. The US is trying to deport you, and we will speak for you in court. Can you tell us about how you came to the US? Alicia began in passable English but quickly lapsed into Spanish. I walked, rode the trains, and there was a man who helped me.

Darcy shook her head. Did you have troubles on the train? Troubles at the border? That is very dangerous for a woman traveling alone.

My brother was with me for a time. Then softly, He died.

Darcy and Connor looked at her and said nothing. Some men threw him off the train.

Connor began to ask a question, but Darcy touched his arm.

Alicia continued, "It was not as bad for me as some. I got to the US. I am okay. Alicia shrugged again and shook her head slowly, silently, as if to say, It was what it was, and I survived. She looked at both of them and continued,

I went north to Midland, Texas. I was working in lawn care and landscaping. I’d been in Midland for about six months when ICE found me. Brought me here. She paused. It is very bad here. She looked at the two of them. Worse than on the trains.

Darcy softly said, We know it is crowded, but there is nothing we can do. We need to try to delay your deportation if we can.

It is not the crowding; it is the guards. And here she looked at Connor, and then back to Darcy.

Would you prefer Mr. Connor leave us alone?

Alicia barely nodded. But Connor understood, got up, and waved at the guard to let him out.

An hour later, Darcy sat across from Connor at the desk they shared in their gray cubicle.

What did that girl tell you that I could not hear?

Darcy looked down, then at the ceiling, then at Connor. This is the fourth one who has said the guards are systematically raping the women. She spat. Those fuckers. Christ, I hate this place. We have to try to stop this.

The next day, Darcy and Connor were in court when Alicia was led to their table by two guards dressed in dark green ICE uniforms. When one of them, a short, stocky blond, put his hand on her shoulder to guide her to the table where Connor and Darcy were sitting, she shrugged his hand off her.

A smug, white prosecutor with short hair and a dark suit quietly argued, Deport her now. Judge, there is no reason to delay this deportation proceeding, none whatsoever. The alien, Tobolada, cannot plausibly seek asylum. She entered the country illegally. No reason to wait.

Connor reflected that this was, unfortunately, a reasonable position.

Darcy stood, "Your Honor, we’re asking to delay the deportation for two weeks. We are investigating whether Ms. Tobolada has a claim against the United States. Our investigation will require her presence here.

The judge looked down. What kind of claim?

Darcy asked to come to the bench, and the lawyers huddled before the judge. Judge, this is the fourth woman I’ve met with this month who has claimed to have been sexually assaulted by guards at the detention center. I want to follow up. See what is going on there. It would be helpful if you would postpone her deportation for two or three weeks. We need to investigate. Once she is deported, we’ll never find her.

The judge looked at the prosecutor, who responded, Nonsense, your honor. There is no reason for delay.

The judge glanced at Connor and Darcy, paused, and looked down at Alicia. He seemed to see her for the first time, shook his head, then grimaced and whispered. Two weeks. Then, unless she has filed a well-documented claim, she is gone. Understood? He continued aloud, I’m going to grant the alien’s request for a two-week delay in this proceeding.

Darcy turned back toward the bench, Your honor, would you consider ordering her detained in the juvenile facility rather than the West Texas Detention Center. Then, lamely. So that we might have easier access to her?

I’m not sure I can do that even if I were inclined to; I don’t think there are beds there.

Alicia said loudly, "I’ll sleep on the floor, sir, on the stairs. In el bano. Please don’t send me back there."

Mendelson stood, I’m sorry for her outburst, your honor. But recall what Ms. Zerfoss told you at the bench.

The judge sighed deeply. He looked at the clerk, who shook her head back and forth. Taking her cue, the judge said, No, there are no beds at the juvenile facility. There is no space. I have no choice. She is remanded back to West Texas Detention Center. Case is reset in two weeks. Clerk, call the next case.

Back in the meeting room, Darcy sat at the table with Alicia. Connor stood in the corner. Darcy took her hand, Alicia, in two weeks, you will almost certainly be deported. But before that happens, I need to get more details from you about what is happening at the Center. Do you mind if Mr. Connor sits with us?

Alicia looked at Connor and shrugged. No importa. She paused for a moment. Took a breath. And in rapid Spanish, The guards are making us do things to them, sexual things. Then, they laugh and call it prayer time because we have to be on our knees. She paused, looked down. Or our backs.

Can you identify the guards who are doing this?

Some wear face coverings, but the blond one in court is one of them. First, he took me off into a room. Used me, then I saw him take a younger girl, Lucerio. I think. She is gone now.

Alicia looked down, then at Connor and Darcy. Tears welled. When I get back there, it will be bad for me. Very bad. You maybe should ask the judge to deport me now.

Connor sighed. What a fucking world. Alicia, when you are deported, they just take you to the border and put you out. No money, no papers, nothing. It is very dangerous. He handed her his card. Take this. Memorize my number. Call me if there is a problem. We will try to protect you. No fucking way we can protect her.

Conner looked at Darcy and back at Alicia. I don’t know what else we can do. We need more information to file a case. Alicia, if possible, don’t give in to their demands.

Alicia looked at Connor, then Darcy, then back to Connor, and shook her head. You do not understand. It is worse there than outside. To resist their demands means they will use me anyway, or worse, they might turn to someone much younger. Or much older. And make me watch. She looked directly at Connor and said softly, What do I do then?

Mendelson shook his head, I don’t know what to say. Fuck, there is nothing to say. I, we will try to protect you and the others. This is bullshit. We can’t protect them. We will see you in one or two days.

As they walked down the hallway, Darcy turned to Connor and touched his arm. We have to reach out to Hancock and tell her what is happening.

Connor stopped. Darcy, I’ve told you about my history with Hancock. She would not piss on me if I were on fire. I’m not the right guy to try to speak with her.

Are you saying you won’t?

No, I’m just saying she won’t listen to anything I have to say. She led the torture of my client. I embarrassed her in court. I think she had my client murdered. He could feel the anger and hatred rising. Forcefully. Fuck her.

Darcy shook her head, paused, turned, and looked at Connor, Are you sure you should be here given your history with Hancock?

My wife asks me the same question about once a week when we talk.

Darcy sat. Well, we should try to deal with this. The worst that can happen is she refuses to meet with us.

Darcy, Connor paused, sucked the air. I hope she does refuse. He paused again. Being in the same room as Victoria Hancock makes me feel dirty.

3

Hancock’s secretary set the meeting for ten, and precisely at that time, Darcy and Mendelson knocked on the door.

Hancock’s office was a windowless square, with a desk facing a wall and about eight feet between the desk and a bookcase on the other side of the room. Hancock was in semi-military garb. Black nylon cargo pants, black boots, and a green short-sleeved polo shirt with the CoreCivic logo on the right side. Her black hair was pulled back in a bun. Her face was pallid, her eyes inky black, and cold. No earrings, no rings.

Come in, Then to herself, I don’t know why she set this meeting. Then more loudly, I can only give you a couple of minutes; I’m busy. What do you want? She spoke and looked only at Darcy. No gesture or nod suggested they should sit in the two chairs in front of her desk.

Darcy earnestly said, We’ve received complaints that guards are sexually harassing, really raping some of the women detained here. We hope you will help stop this.

Hancock sat still for a moment. She began to say something, stopped, and paused another beat. Ms. Zerfoss, I don’t believe this. She looked at them. I believe nothing the prisoners say. Some of these people will do anything, say anything to avoid deportation. I suspect that it is the women who try to take advantage of the guards. This is a very stressful job for the guards, and I’m sure some of them give in. I see nothing to investigate. Nothing to stop. Anything else we need to discuss?

Darcy rocked back. Are you suggesting that teenagers are taking advantage of the guards? You cannot possibly believe that.

Ms. Zerfoss, the people here are desperate. The women will resort to sex, resort to anything to try to avoid deportation.

Connor angrily said, Our client wanted to be deported rather than come back here.

She looked at Connor with icy eyes. Then, in a cold voice said, Mr. Mendelson. Who is your client?

I’d rather not say. No telling what you would do with the information.

She looked up. Gave Connor a slight knowing smile and shrugged as if to say, Good decision. Hancock looked down and tapped her finger on the desk. And as if she were talking to herself, If my men need a little relief, then what is the harm? These women chose to try to come here. They knew the risks of the trip. I have no sympathy for them. She stood and gestured to the door. We’re done here."

Darcy shook her head rapidly back and forth, You can’t be serious. You are condoning rape.

I condone no such thing because I’ve seen no evidence that anyone is being raped. It’s not rape if the prisoner initiates the sex. But, if you bring me evidence of rape, I’ll reconsider. She nodded toward the door and pointedly turned to her computer.

From Hancock’s office, Connor and Darcy went to see Alicia. They huddled in a small meeting room overlooking the central area filled with detainees. Alicia’s face was red on one side, and she had a small bruise on her neck. Her hair was a bird’s nest, going in every direction, with a patch where some had been pulled out.

Darcy looked at her with troubled eyes. Since I met with you, it has been very bad. Very bad and when I tried to say no the guard said, Okay, no problem. He turned to one of the others; Bring me a really young one or an old lady.

Ms. Darcy, what was I to do? Yesterday he made me use my mouth. He held my neck. I thought he was going to choke me. He pulled my hair. He slapped me. And when he was done, he told me he was looking forward to another prayer session. He said, I’m very religious, and there will be lots of prayers. A single tear rolled down Alicia’s left cheek.

Darcy bowed her head. We are so sorry. I know it is not helpful when I say you should try to stay away. You go back to court in a week. Perhaps we can find a solution before then. Do you still have our cards?

Yes, I keep them hidden. And I have memorized the numbers.

Okay, we will see you in a day or two. We’ll prepare an affidavit for you to sign so the judge will know what is happening.

It did not work out that way.

4

Connor was walking into the office building when his cell buzzed. The number displayed was from Mexico.

Mr. Connor, it is Alicia Tobolada. I am in Juarez. They brought me here early this morning. They took your card. They took everything.

Her voice broke, and there were a few moments of silence. A nice woman is letting me use her phone. What should I do? Where are you? Connor heard her ask in Spanish where she was, then,

I am at the Plaza de la Mexicanidad. I walked here from where they left me.

Connor told her to stay where she was and to talk to no one, especially men. He then hurried to their cubicle and told Darcy that Alicia had been deported.

What? Her face contracted into an angry scowl. Those motherfuckers. The judge told them she was to remain at the detention center until the next hearing so we could investigate. Connor, will you go get her? I’ll see the judge. We’ll need an order to get her back across the border. She slammed her fist on her desk. I do not need this bullshit from these fucks today.

Even with his special ID, it took an hour to cross the border. Connor found Alicia sitting on a bench, talking to a young Mexican woman. Alicia stood and waved, and the woman stood as well. The three converged in the center of the broad, sunny plaza.

Mr. Connor, this is Estelle. She says I can live with her.

Estelle was dressed in jeans so tight Connor