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forty-seven f

Surprise of a Lifetime

O ur hearing was set for Monday, November 21. Ben sent $50,000 to pay our fines, additional bribes, and five round-trip tickets back to the States.

In less than three weeks, I’d be celebrating Thanksgiving at home. Not that I have any family to celebrate with , I thought, but that was the least of my worries.

I expected we’d meet Rajiv to discuss our hearing. But when he came by the next week to collect our mortgage payment, he shrugged off our questions.

“No need to worry. It is a misdemeanor. A small fine will be paid to the government, and a payment will be made to the judge. I will take care of you,” he promised.

The crops were destroyed. The police had found no guns or ivory and no proof of international trafficking. We decided to enjoy our last days in Kenya.

Waititu kept Mike supplied with quaaludes and the rest of us with pot. The weekend before our hearing, we stayed straight so we’d be fresh and alert when we went to court.

“When we get back home, we’ll have a party to end all parties,” Mike said. “We’ll have Mary and Fatima prepare a feast.” Despite my outward confidence, I was apprehensive. Kenya truly was the Old West where anything could happen.

Federal agents arrived at our home in two separate vehicles the morning of our hearing. The drive to the courthouse took an hour. To me it felt like days.

Mike and Carl had purchased suits for the hearing. Tina, Edie, and I dressed in simple dresses that landed slightly below our knees. We left most of our jewelry and money at home.

The courthouse reminded me of official Florida buildings with a white stucco exterior, gently arched porticos, and clock tower entrance. Graceful palms shaded the exterior. My legs trembled as we were escorted into a utilitarian courtroom.

Rajiv waited for us and motioned to join him. “Have a seat on the bench behind me. The judge and I will be hearing several cases this morning. You are third on the agenda.”

Rajiv seemed relaxed and confident. I wished we were first so we could pay our fine and get on with our lives.

The first two cases were minor offenses. Each defendant stood while Rajiv and the judge discussed the case. A small fine was issued to each.

“See, all they want is money,” Mike whispered to me.

“Michael Ambrose, Ava Novak, Carl O’Reilly, Edith O’Reilly, and Christina DaSilva, stand,” the judge ordered. “Mr. Devi, how do your clients plead?”

“Not guilty, your honor,” Rajiv said.

“Approach the bench.”

Rajiv followed the judge’s orders.

While they spoke, I turned to observe the courtroom. A handful of people peppered the benches. Most were black, a few were Indian and white. I spotted a blond female in the rear corner. Liz! Mike’s side piece. A feeling of dread crept from my heart to my head. I turned my attention forward when I heard the judge say my name.

“Ava Novak, Carl O’Reilly, Edith O’Reilly, and Christina DaSilva. You are charged with possession of an illegal substance with intent to distribute abroad. I find you guilty and sentence you to nine months in prison. At the end of your sentence, you will be deported.”

I reached for Mike’s hand to keep from collapsing. He kept his hands folded at his waist. Tina took my other hand. The look on her face mirrored my inner terror.

“Michael Ambrose, you are free to go. Next case.”

The judge banged his gavel. An officer of the court motioned us to follow him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you out.” The casual tone of Mike’s words belied the horror of the moment.

The four of us paraded across the front of the room like the condemned criminals we had become. I turned for a last look at Mike, the sociopath, in whom I’d put my trust. His attention was turned to the back of the courtroom, where Liz smiled and waved at him.

How much did you pay Rajiv to let you go and leave us to die?

I’d never truly hated anyone until now—not even my mother or my ex-husband, Tom. I only hoped Mike would keep his word and find a way to get us out.

Two vans waited for us outside the courthouse. Before we boarded, Rajiv approached us.

“Your judge has little mercy for drug trafficking,” Rajiv said. “Mike has promised to speak to your boss when he returns to the States. He says your boss has great influence in Kenya. Don’t worry.”

A guard planted himself between Rajiv and us.

“Do not give up hope. We will do what we can to get you out before nine months,” Rajiv said.

“Over here!”

Another guard dressed in olive drab holding a machine gun motioned to Carl. At gunpoint, he was pushed into one van. He took a last look at his wife and mouthed, I love you , before he disappeared.

Edie screamed, “ No! ”

“Shut up!” Another guard hit Edie with his machine gun.

“We’re gonna die,” Tina whispered.

“You three, get in the van. Now! ”

We climbed into the back of a white windowless van. Splintered wooden benches lined both sides of the rear. Metal bars separated us from the front of the vehicle. Two guards climbed in front. The motor turned over. We were on our way.