A Time for Patriots

“I’m Special Agent Philip Chastain, FBI,” the lead agent said, still working on his laptop while the inspection continued. He was tall and young-looking with thick dark hair and a square jaw — Patrick thought he looked like a Hollywood actor portraying a federal agent. Chastain gestured over his shoulder with a pen at the others. “That’s Special Agent Brady and Agent Renaldo of the Department of Homeland Security. Empty your pockets on the counter here.” Patrick and Leo did as they were told. Chastain examined Patrick’s documents first and typed more instructions into his laptop; Patrick could see a small flare of surprise when some information came in. “General Patrick McLanahan.” The jaws of the others in the room dropped and their eyes widened in surprise.

Chastain quickly shook away his initial reaction and assumed a very serious expression. “Both of you are being video- and audio-recorded. What were you doing flying in that helicopter toward the base?”

“Aren’t you going to read me my rights first, Agent Chastain?” Patrick asked.

“Considering what happened yesterday in Reno and the seriousness of your violation, I assumed you’d waive your right to an attorney, cooperate fully with this investigation, and agree to answer my questions.”

“You assumed incorrectly, Agent Chastain.”

“Everyone else has been answering questions, including your son and the other ground-team members.”

“I’ll warn my son against talking to law enforcement officials without his father present,” Patrick said, his voice low and his eyes boring directly into Chastain’s, “and I’m warning you against speaking with him again unless I’m present. He’s still a minor.”

“You’re in serious trouble, General,” Chastain said, matching Patrick’s warning gaze. “If I were you, I’d do less warning and more cooperating.”

“Bring my attorney here and let me talk with her, and then I will cooperate,” Patrick said. “I want my attorney.”

“We have the chief counsel of the Civil Air Patrol on the line,” Chastain said, motioning to a phone with a flashing hold button. “He’s authorized everyone in your squadron to talk to us.”

“That’s fine, but I still want my attorney first.”

“I’m very surprised at this attitude of yours, General,” Chastain said, looking at Patrick suspiciously, then shaking his head in confusion. “I thought you’d want to do everything in your power to advance our investigation. Instead, you seem to be doing everything you can to hinder it.”

“I want my attorney,” was all Patrick said.

Chastain glanced at the woman beside him, then shook his head again as he went through Leo’s identification. “Fine,” he said resignedly after several minutes. “You and Trooper Slotnick will be placed under arrest until she arrives.” The agent named Brady who had frisked Patrick and Leo made them turn around and place their hands behind their backs, and for the second time that day they were in handcuffs. “You’re charged with violating Homeland Security executive directives and entering controlled airspace without permission.” Chastain’s fingers poised over his laptop. “What’s your attorney’s name?”

“Darrow Horton.”

Chastain looked up from the keyboard, and all of the agents began another round of surprised stares. “Darrow Horton?”

“You’ve heard of her?”

“You mean, former attorney general Darrow Horton?”

“That’s the one. Need her number? Her Washington office is just a couple blocks from the Justice Department.”

Chastain nodded at his agents to silently tell them to take the handcuffs off. “Of course,” he said. “She represented you when the Gardner administration indicted you for ordering attacks against noncombatants, disobeying lawful orders, and dereliction of duty, correct?”

“I want my lawyer,” Patrick repeated.

Chastain smiled. “Tough guy,” he said. “Too bad the tough-guy act is blinding you to how much shit you’re in.” He turned back to his laptop. “No phone calls are allowed for now, but we’ll contact Miss Horton for you. You can go.” He turned next to Leo. “Trooper Slotnick, I hope you’ll be much more cooperative than the general.”

“I want my lawyer,” Leo said, giving Patrick a wink as he walked past.

In the hangar, Patrick met up again with Rob Spara, who was with David Bellville and Michael Fitzgerald. “That was quick,” Rob said. “We were in there for a lot longer.”

“I refused to answer any questions and lawyered up,” Patrick said. “They couldn’t do much with me after that except arrest me.”

“Good on you, General,” Fitzgerald said. “I told them to kiss my ass too until I get a lawyer — they weren’t too interested in talkin’ to me after that. Which was good, because I have no friggin’ idea how to get a lawyer.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Patrick,” Spara said worriedly. “I spoke with the CAP attorney from headquarters, and he told everyone to cooperate fully.”

“That’s maybe good for CAP, but not necessarily for you,” Patrick said. “I’ll let my attorney straighten things out.”