The Last Hour (34 page)

“A preliminary investigation. I’ve completed that investigation and turned in my report last week.”

“I see.”

“The Commanding General has referred charges against you and five other soldiers in this case.”

My heart started pounding, and my throat was dry. “Against me?”

“That’s right. Your commanding officer has been notified, and at this time we are taking you before the officer appointed as the Article 32 Investigating Officer.”

“I don’t know what all that means.”

Coombs broke in. “It means you’re under arrest.”

Well, that was clear enough. “Can I call my girlfriend?”

“Not right now. Please come with us, and we’ll get this over with.”

I nodded.
 

I didn’t have far to go at all. We walked out of the main hospital building and down the block. Three buildings down we entered an unmarked, plain looking brick building. Inside, a busy office, except all the desks were staffed by service-members, not all of them Army. Walter Reed was a joint command, so the paper pushers tended to come in all stripes. I followed Smalls past the desks. She stopped and knocked on a door.
 

“Come,” a commanding voice called from within.
 

She opened the door and waved me in. Now wasn’t the time to be a smartass, so I walked in, came to a stop in front of the desk as I’d been trained at Fort Benning, and saluted, my eyes a foot above the head of the man sitting there. I barked out, “Sergeant Ray Sherman reporting as ordered, sir.”

“At ease,” the man said.

I relaxed a little, and let my eyes fall to the youngish looking Lieutenant Colonel behind the desk. He wore the combat patch of the Third Infantry division on his right shoulder. His name-tag read Schwartz.

“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Aaron Schwartz. I’ve been appointed by the General Court-Martial Convening Authority as investigating officer for an Article 32 investigation. You’re one of the accused.”

I cleared my throat, but didn’t say anything. I didn’t really have a response.

“I’m going to dispense with reading any official charges at this time, other than to advise you of your rights. In accordance with the Uniform Code of Military Justice, you cannot be compelled to make any self-incriminating statements. You’re entitled to a military attorney at no cost to you, or if you prefer, a civilian attorney at no expense to the government. This investigation will be conducted over the next several weeks, and you’ll have the right to be present, or to have your counsel present, at all proceedings. Is all this clear?”

I couldn’t breathe.
Clear?
It was clear I was completely fucked.
 

I nodded and coughed out, “Yes, sir.”

“Any questions?”

“Where do I find a military lawyer, sir?”

“You’ll be contacted by a member of the Staff Judge Advocate’s office.”

“I see. Am I going to jail?”

He sighed and stared at me. “The Commanding General left that to my discretion. Major Smalls has indicated that you aren’t a flight risk, and that you should be left at your current duties and living arrangements as long as possible. Is that correct, Major?”

She nodded. “Yes. I don’t believe you have to worry about Sergeant Sherman running off.”

I couldn’t stop myself from looking over at her. I was stunned that she’d made that recommendation.

“Well, Sergeant? Can we depend on you to show up when and where you are told? Or do we need to place you under confinement?”

“I’ll be wherever you order, sir.”

“I want to be clear about one thing. This is ... not exactly the same, but similar to a civilian grand jury. If we recommend going forward with a court-martial your status will likely change. Do you understand? This is a capital case. In the meantime, you’re restricted to staying within 50 miles of Washington, DC at all times.”

I shuddered. “You’re saying I could get the death penalty.”

“That’s correct. Which means, if we move forward with charges, you’ll probably be confined. But I’m depending on Major Small’s recommendation. Don’t make her look bad.”

I swallowed. “What happens next, sir?”

“I’m going to ask you to sign that you understand the rights I’ve explained to you.”
 

My phone rang.
 

“Sorry,” I said. I reached in my pocket and silenced it. Colonel Schwartz slid a sheet of paper across the desk. I read it in detail. It was what he’d said and nothing more. I signed it.

“All right then. I’ve spoken with the Hospital Commander. You’re relieved of duty for the rest of the day. Go home and collect yourself, and you should hear from your attorney by 1700 hours.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. I felt like ... like a little kid. Like I was in front of my dad at ten years old, terrified because I’d gotten in trouble. But this was so much worse.

“You’re dismissed.”

My mouth was dry as I said, “Thank you, sir,” and started to step away.

I stopped when he said, “Oh, Sergeant. One other thing.”

I looked back. “Yes, sir?”

He sighed. “Some bright soul over at the Pentagon decided to announce the investigation. You’re probably going to get some media inquiries. May I suggest not speaking with the media for now?”

“Yeah,” I said, then automatically corrected myself. “Yes, sir. I won’t be talking to any reporters.”

He nodded, and I turned and walked out. Smalls followed me. I turned to her and said, “You ... why?”

She shrugged. “Because I believe you, Sergeant. I know it took a while, but you did the right thing.”

I swallowed. “Thanks,” I replied.

“You’re free to go for now.”

I nodded. My hands were shaking as I took out my phone and dialed Carrie.

I
didn’t know what to do.
Ray didn’t answer his phone or respond to my text message. I was shaking with anger, and fear, and my emotions were so muddled and confusing I hardly knew what I felt. I finally headed back to my office, and just as I stepped inside, my cell phone rang.

I scrambled for it.

“Ray?”

“Hey, Doctor Babe,” he said. It sounded like he was just trying to sound casual, but it wasn’t convincing.

“Are you okay?”
 

“Yeah. Um ... can you get the afternoon off? I’ve got trouble.”

“I saw the Post,” I replied.

He was silent for just a second, then spoke, his voice on the edge of desperation, “It’s already in the fucking paper?”

“Yes,” I responded, my voice low. “Are you ... the paper said you’d been charged with murder? Are you ... under arrest somewhere?”

“No. Meet me at the metro?”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes, let me talk to Doctor Moore.”

I had my things together in about thirty seconds and walked down the hall quickly to Doctor Moore’s office and knocked on the door, then opened it.

I don’t know what he was up to in there. Maybe looking at porn or something. But he jerked in his seat, and his face went red.

“Sorry,” I said, instinctively. “Just needed to give you a heads up, I’ve got a personal emergency. I need to go now.”

He frowned. “You’ll need to fill out a leave form, and I’ll approve it.”

He had to be kidding. I responded, “Will do, I’ll get that to you first thing in the morning.” I started to back out of the office, and as I did so, he said, “Well, I really need it before…”

I didn’t hear the rest of what he said, because I was already half-running down the hall. I’d deal with whatever the paperwork was tomorrow. Right now, Ray needed me.

We both walked into the Medical Center metro station at the same time. Ray pulled me into an embrace, the kind of embrace you might give someone when you’re drowning and trying to hang on for dear life. I squeezed him as hard as I could, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, face buried in the crook of his neck.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He gave a shaky laugh. “It’s been a rough morning.”
 

“Let’s go home.”

He nodded, and we walked down to the platform to wait for the train. We were midway up the platform, and the sign said it would be 4 minutes before the next southbound train. I had my hand wrapped around Ray’s right arm, and my eyes fell on a woman who sat looking at an iPad. She was staring at Ray with undisguised alarm.

I glanced up at him. Take him out of the camouflage and put him in a dress uniform, and he didn’t look at all different from his photo on the Washington Post’s website. I think he was oblivious, but it was clear the woman wasn’t. She got up and walked to the other end of the platform.

Fuck her. I tugged on Ray’s arm and took the woman’s abandoned seat.

Ray told me, in halting, barely articulate sentences, about the morning he’d had.
 

I fixated on one thing. “So this isn’t a court-martial? It’s more like a grand jury?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m supposed to get a call from an attorney today.”

“I’m iffy about an Army lawyer. Won’t he just ... throw the case or something if the Army tells him to?”

Ray shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you mind if I call my Dad about it? He must know somebody.”

“Of course.”

With a loud roar, the train rushed into the station and we boarded.

We didn’t talk on the ride back to the condo. Instead we just sort of huddled together in our seat, his arm around my shoulder. It was only one stop, but it felt like the ride took a million years. I’d never seen Ray this far off balance. Of course, I’d never seen him after he’d been charged with murder either. The more I thought about it, the angrier it made me. If this was what the Army did when someone reported a crime, it was no wonder there was such a culture of silence. Dad would know someone, though. He’d spent his career working with military attaches, and knew more than a little bit about how the military functioned. A lot more than I did, anyway.
 

In silence, we left the train and walked to the condo, hand in hand. In the lobby, the concierge gave my car keys back. For the second time in a month, the car had been at the Mercedes dealership getting worked on. Something was wonky with the electrical system, and occasionally the car just randomly wouldn’t start. I glanced at the papers that came with the keys: they were incomprehensible. I didn’t care, as long as it was fixed. We rode up to the apartment clinging to each other.

“I’m going to call my father,” I said once the door was open. Distracted, he nodded as he turned on his laptop.

As I dialed the phone, Ray was pulling up the home page of
The Washington Post.
He muttered a curse when he saw the lead article. Then he grabbed his laptop and headed out the sliding glass door. Idly, I hoped he’d quit smoking soon. But now wasn’t really the time to worry about that.

Dad answered on the second ring.

“Carrie!” he said. “How are you?”

“Hi Dad ... I’m … well.” It wasn’t true, but that’s how you did things with my dad.

We chatted for a couple of minutes about inconsequential stuff. I love my father. Over the years he’d developed a certain warmth which didn’t come naturally to him, but I always knew he cared. Unlike my mother, he was far less likely to try to exert direct control of his daughters. Instead, his weapon was bribes, kindness, or a thoughtful manipulative word here and there. Dad was a diplomat, literally, as well as figuratively. And as an adult, he’d become almost a friend. But I was itching to get down to business.

He could tell. After a couple of minutes, he said, “Something on your mind, Carrie?”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah. I need to talk to you about something. And it’s important ... very important.”

“You can always talk with me, Carrie.”

That made it very clear that he hadn’t read the online editions of the papers. Time enough for that later, or when the print edition of the New York Times arrived on their doorstep in the morning.

“Yeah, well. This is a bit unusual. Dad ... when Ray was in Afghanistan, he witnessed something. He ... he saw a murder. An Afghan child was murdered by one of our soldiers.”

I heard my dad suck in a breath. Then he said, “That’s serious indeed. Did Ray report this?”

“He did.”

“And what came of that?”

As I answered, I saw Ray set his laptop on the table on the porch. He stood up and lit a cigarette and leaned against the edge, staring out into the distance. His back was like a straightedge, and I could see his hand shaking a little.

“Dad, Ray was called back up to active duty. We thought ... we assumed ... that it was because he was going to have to testify. But ... this morning he was informed that he’s been charged with murder.”

Silence at the other end of the line.
 

“Dad? I need to know ... you worked in the government a long time. Do you know any military attorneys? Or anyone who could help? Ray’s going to need the help.”

Still silent. Finally I said, “Dad, are you there?”

“Did he do it?” my father finally asked.

“Did he do what?”

“Did he kill this Afghan child?” The question felt like he’d thrown something at me.

“
No!
”