Or Wayne might give her his bored but patient look and ask was this her instinct as a mother coming out or the other one, what was known as women’s intuition? And she’d get mad and say, “Well, you don’t understand,” and he wouldn’t. So she didn’t say anything at all.
Not until the next day, riding downtown in the security of the gray interior of a gray sedan, two men in front wearing gray suits, Carmen and Wayne in back dressed for business, an official occasion, she made sure of her tone and finally said to Wayne in a low voice but an offhand manner, “You don’t suppose it’s about Matthew.”
He looked at her right next to him and said, “So that’s it. I’ve been wondering.” He put his hand on hers, holding her purse in her lap. “No, they come to your house. They send an officer, a serious young guy in his dress uniform, to tell you. U.S. marshals don’t do that. I’ve been thinking about it, a marshal’s like what Matt Dillon was in Gun-smoke. They wear a big cowboy hat. Remember Matt and Miss Kitty?”
The marshal on the passenger side of the front seat turned his head toward the one that was driving.
Carmen nudged Wayne with her elbow. He gave her hand a squeeze.
This U.S. marshal, John McAllen, seemed as big as the one in Gunsmoke and was about the same age, around fifty, Carmen judged, and looked familiar in that he fit the role of law officer, appeared to have rough edges and kept his personality to himself, or tried to. She had seen enough law officers recently to recognize the type. McAllen, in his dark suit, was not as neat and polished as Scallen, the FBI special agent, who looked more like a lawyer or business executive and sat off to one side. Carmen and Wayne had chairs facing the marshal at his desk, a big one. On the wall behind him were pictures of three past presidents of the United States and a fourth who was about to leave office.
Greeting them, McAllen had said it was a pleasure and that he appreciated the courage it took for them to come forward, willing to testify at the appropriate time. He said now, with a little smile, “I imagine what you’d appreciate is somebody taking better care of you. Well, that’s why you’re here.”
Carmen thought he even sounded like the one in Gunsmoke only more authentically western. She said they would appreciate it a lot, and glanced at Wayne. He was sitting forward, his elbows on the chair arms, not yet moved by the marshal’s concern.
“This situation, from our standpoint, is an unusual one,” McAllen said. “However since your lives are apparently in danger we feel you qualify for federal protection under the Witness Security Program of the United States Marshals Service.”
Wayne said, “You mean our lives appear to be in danger but maybe they aren’t?”
As McAllen looked up from a notebook he was opening Carmen said, “I thought it was only for criminals. Wasn’t Richie Nix in the program?”
“He was for a time,” McAllen said, maybe surprised by the way both of them had come at him, glancing over at Scallen now.
“Everything I’ve read about it,” Wayne said, “it’s for people who testify in court to stay out of prison.”
McAllen, trying to smile, said, “Whoa now, you people have a misconception about the program we better clear up.”
Carmen turned to Scallen as he got into it saying, yes, the program was originally created by the attorney general for the protection of witnesses under Title V—or he might’ve said Title B, Carmen was still having trouble with McAllen referring to them as “you people.” Scallen’s tone helped, giving her the feeling he was actually concerned for their safety. He said the program must work, there were about fifteen thousand people in it counting witnesses and their families. He said, “Let’s let John McAllen go through some of the boilerplate, basic things about the program. How’s that sound? Then we’ll see how a modified version might work for you.”
It sounded okay to Carmen. She said, fine. Wayne didn’t say anything.
So then McAllen recited from his notebook, beginning with the conditions required for eligibility. There had to be evidence in possession that the life of the witness and/or a member of his or her family was in immediate jeopardy. There also had to be evidence in possession that it would be advantageous to the federal interest for the Department of Justice to protect the witness and/or family or household members.
Carmen began to wonder when Wayne would jump in.
With this evidence in possession the attorney general could, by regulation, provide suitable documents to enable the person to establish a new identity . . .
Right there.
“What you’re saying,” Wayne said, “you want us to change our names ’cause you can’t find these assholes? Is that it?”
McAllen said, “Whoa now,” and Scallen got into it again saying, “Wayne, you have to let John finish. The regulation states it’s to establish a new identity or ‘otherwise protect the person,’ so we’re flexible in that area.”
McAllen said he would appreciate their waiting till he was finished before expressing their views. Staring at Wayne.
Good luck, Carmen thought.
The program would provide housing, McAllen said. It would provide for the transportation of household furniture and other personal property to a new residence of the person. It would provide a payment to meet basic living expenses and assist the person in obtaining employment . . .
Wayne said, “Can I ask a question?”
“I imagine,” McAllen said, looking up from the notebook, “you want to know what comes under ‘basic living expenses.’ ”
“I want to know, first, if you’re saying we have to sell our house.”
Carmen was wondering that too, among other things. But most of all she was wondering, if they did move, what she’d tell her mother. While Scallen was saying, yes, it would involve relocation, for their safety, but he didn’t think it would be necessary to sell the house. Carmen thinking that if she told her mother they were going on a vacation her mom would get sick, as she usually did, sometimes putting herself in the hospital. Scallen saying he believed he could make a deal with Nelson Davies, have his company appear to be offering the house for sale and take care of the maintenance.
Wayne said, “Relocate where?”
Scallen looked at John McAllen who said, “Where we have marshals that supervise the program, experienced Witness Security inspectors. Right now we can offer you Lima, Findlay, Ohio . . .”
Wayne said, “Jesus Christ, those’re both on I–Seventy-five.”
McAllen paused, frowning. “What’s wrong with that?”
Carmen said, “Wayne?” with a look that meant, Don’t give your speech about driving through Ohio. She said to McAllen, “What else do you have?”
He was still frowning, maybe confused. “Well, a couple places in Missouri, one especially we recommend. But what I’d like is to finish with the regulations first, if that’s agreeable with you.”
He didn’t say “you people” and his tone seemed okay. Otherwise, Carmen was fairly sure Wayne would have jumped on him. At the moment he was holding on to the chair arms.
Before providing the aforementioned assistance, McAllen said, the attorney general would enter into what was called a Memorandum of Understanding with the person, which sets forth the responsibilities of that person and would include:
The agreement of the person to testify and provide information to all appropriate law-enforcement officials concerning all appropriate proceedings.
The agreement of the person to avoid detection by others of the facts concerning the protection provided.
Carmen was going to say, What? But didn’t.