Title: Paraguay didn't solve anything - Part 4
***************************************
JAG Headquarters
Fall Church, Virginia
1245 Zulu
Mac was standing behind the half open door of her office looking into a small mirror hung on the backside. 'I look pretty good for someone who got next to no sleep last night,' she thought as she picked her hair with her fingers. She peered at her reflection and pondered the image. 'Tonight,' she promised, "I will get a good nights sleep. All I have to do is accept the inevitable and move on. Don't dwell on mistakes, right?' She wondered if Clay would call today. He promised to be in town for the weekend.
"Good morning, Ma'am," said Harriet entering the office. "Morning activity reports. Staff call at 0900. Anything you need this morning?"
"Hi Harriet. The files on my desk are for Sturgis. The list is some case law that needs to be researched. Harriet," said Mac, still looking in the mirror. "Do you like my hair?"
"Your hair?" repeated Harriet. "What about it?"
"Well, Clay has hinted once or twice that he's not fond of the style. He goes for the longer more classic look. What do you think?"
"Me? I love your cut. It's funky and fun. Half the women in the military look like country librarians and the other half look like men. You always manage to skirt regs and come up with a style that's current and feminine."
"Hmph, So you like it. And the color?" persisted Mac.
"You don't like the color?"
"Clay likes blondes," said Mac.
"Actually, I think you're as light as you can go without looking ... well fake," said Harriet. "I love the color."
Mac continued to run her fingers through her hair. "Well, maybe it is time to go for a more classic style. I am a little old for funky and fun."
Harriet was silent. Finally, Mac heard her say, "Okay. Time to get back to work. Let me know what else you need, Colonel."
It was a couple of hours later when Harriet stuck her head through the door and into Mac's office.
"Ma'am?" said Harriet. "Commander Coleman is in the conference room working on Petty Officer Laporte's sentencing hearing. She needs to ask you some questions."
Mac sighed. Alison Laporte was one name she had hoped she wouldn't hear again. Her inadvertent mistake that had revealed the classified information about the Petty Officer's Bedouin tribe was something else she needed to put behind her. It was going to be hard to look at Alison without feeling guilty.
As a defense attorney she had screwed up. But as fellow serviceman, she wondered how many soldiers had died at the hands of Alison's information. It was a truly poignant story in a war filled with irony. Chegwidden was right when he said that mistakes sometimes reveal the true nature of our feelings. Mac, newly returned from the tumultuous events in Paraguay, may have been guilty of just that.
Still smarting from the criticism of his peer Admiral Laporte, Chegwidden replaced Mac and appointed Lieutenant Command Faith Coleman as defense counsel for Alison's court martial. The evidence was overwhelming and the Petty Officer had been quickly convicted of the crime of treason. It was now the sentencing phase. Bud had wisely dropped the death penalty as the ultimate punishment. They were now arguing life in prison for Alison Laporte.
Mac walked down the hallway towards the conference room. She glanced into Harm's office. He was at his desk head bowed studying a file. In very un-Harm like fashion, the little office was crowded with half-opened boxes and files. She knew from the daily reports that Harm was making good headway on the Imes case files. Since returning to JAG, he had been a model officer. Gone was any trace of the defeated man she had seen playing the guitar last month.
As she entered the conference room, she could see Faith poring over a file.
"Colonel," said Faith, getting up from her chair.
"At ease, Commander," said Mac. "You wanted to see me?"
Faith studied her face. "I'm calling you as a witness."
Mac was startled. "My relationship with Alison is still protected under client confidentiality."
"I know," she said. "I'm not asking you to betray anything said. I am looking for you to comment generally on Alison's attitude toward her husband and the Bedouin tribe."
"She identifies completely with them. They are her family now. This is what I'll say under oath," said Mac, turning over the issues in her mind.
"If that's how you see it, then that's what I want you to say. Oh and I will also ask you questions about her attitude toward the Navy and her father," said Faith, turning over some papers in front of her. Mac noticed that there were four HB pencils lined up in a row in front of the file folder.
"Her attitude was hostile," said Mac. "How is any of this going to help her? Doesn't this just go to prove she had motive for treason?"
"Maybe. But I'm going to argue that she is suffering from Stockholm syndrome," Faith studied Mac for a reaction. She handed her a biography of an expert in the disorder. "My expert witness. He has studied her case and says it is consistent."
"I can see part of this. It explains why she considers herself a Bedouin now. A good defense for the desertion charge. But how does this mitigate the treason charge? Why did she betray the US Army and her father?"
"It is all consistent with the symptoms. People suffering from Stockholm syndrome actually see would-be rescuers as the enemy. They will work to thwart any attempt to save them from their abuser. It explains her anger to her father and the Navy. Bizarre, isn't it? Some experts theorize that many people in the State of Israel suffer from Stockholm syndrome. Why else would they stay in such an openly hostile environment?" she said.
Mac was silent for a moment. "So, even though she admittedly engaged in treasonous activities against her country, you are hoping she might get a break on the sentence. Is that it?"
"Basically," said Faith. "Battered women also react this way. They often support the abuser."
"My mother was a battered wife. I know what it is like," said Mac. "Is that all?"
"Yes," said Faith, still studying Mac. "Nothing more."
*******
"Going for the decaf, I see?" Harm smiled at her. She glanced up quickly then continued to pour coffee into her mug.
"I'm getting a good night sleep, one way or the other, "she said. "If I keep my nose to the grindstone, I should be out of here by 1900 tonight."
"Lucky you. That same grindstone has me here until at least 2100." Harm reached for the coffee. "It's the high test stuff for me."
"Look, I've been at this grindstone for a while now. You had a six-month vacation, as I recall." She teased and waited for witty reply. This was banter, right?
"Right," he agreed mildly. Mac looked at him through the steam off the coffee as she took a sip. Typical reaction from him lately. He neatly avoided her leading statement and instead chose instead to just concur.
Harm went on. "Look, Bud is going for a Chinese food run. You want anything before he leaves?"
Chinese takeout with Harm and Bud. Just like the old days. She revised her estimated departure time. 1930 would be okay too. The office was almost deserted now. The three of them could loosen their metaphorical ties and chat for a while. It had been a long time.
"Me? Want food? What do you think?" she smiled at Harm.
They were sitting in Harm's crowded office with half filled cardboard containers littered around. Harm had moved file boxes out to the hallway so the three could fit in. Bud was recounting the details of Harriet's reaction when she learned that Bud had named their son after the original Star Trek captain. If Mikey hadn't spilled the beans, he believed she would have never connected the dots. After all, it had 35 years since the series ran. Both Mac and Harm were in stitches over the antics of the Roberts family.
In some ways, it was like old times. Bud was basically back to normal, sans one foot. The injury that had caused so much upheaval in his life was no longer defining that life. He had found a measure of peace with it and was moving on.
Harm too, seemed okay. Maybe some day in the future, Paraguay would no longer define her relationship with Harm. Maybe he could move on too.
But not yet. Bud had given Harm several openings to talk about what had happened during his absence from JAG but he had not been forth coming. In some fashion, he was still hiding everything away into some sort of personal cubbyhole. Maybe the best they could hope for is just to ignore the whole thing.
"What's wrong with Sturgis?" asked Harm, interrupting Mac's thoughts.
Mac and Bud looked at him. "What do you mean?" she said.
"I've been buried since I came back and he's been away but even with that I have noticed a difference. He seems to have isolated himself. From everyone. Why?" said Harm.
Bud replied sheepishly. "It's all my fault. It's about my defense, or lack there of, at his competency hearing."
Bud had it all wrong. Mac knew it was more than that. "Wrong, counselor. Sturgis is mad at the whole office. Seems we all have disappointed him."
Harm nodded. "I noticed that. Lost his faith in mankind, has he? Sturgis always was a little too introspective for his own good." Mac watched him as he stared at the slowly whirling remnants of a bottle of Evian water in his hand.
Mac and Bud exchanged a look.
Harm went on. "Reality is that you can't change much. People are who they are. About the only person you can change is yourself."
Harm looked up and continued. "He'll get over it. Look, I better get back to work or I'll be here all night." The moment was gone.
Bud and Mac stood up, picking up empty cartons. Bud spoke, "Commander, you haven't said yet if you were coming over for Thanksgiving. It would be great to have you come. The admiral and Meredith are coming. Dad, Mikey and Harriet's parents. Coates and some date. Mac and Webb. Sturgis hasn't told me no yet, although I won't be surprised if he doesn't come."
Mac watched Harm look up quickly, startled. Just as quick, he looked away. "Thanks Bud, but I don't think I'll be able to make it. I've, uhhh, got this obligation down in Blacksburg. I better head there."
"Mattie Grace? That's her name, right? She's welcome too," Bud persisted.
Mac watched as Harm strengthened his resolve. "No. Look Bud, I'll stop by sometime on the weekend. Thanks anyway."
Bud fumbled at bit and left the office. Mac lingered for a moment and watched as he opened a file and started making notes on a page. Somehow, she wanted to reach out to him. But it wasn't her place anymore.
***************************************
JAG Headquarters
Fall Church, Virginia
1245 Zulu
Mac was standing behind the half open door of her office looking into a small mirror hung on the backside. 'I look pretty good for someone who got next to no sleep last night,' she thought as she picked her hair with her fingers. She peered at her reflection and pondered the image. 'Tonight,' she promised, "I will get a good nights sleep. All I have to do is accept the inevitable and move on. Don't dwell on mistakes, right?' She wondered if Clay would call today. He promised to be in town for the weekend.
"Good morning, Ma'am," said Harriet entering the office. "Morning activity reports. Staff call at 0900. Anything you need this morning?"
"Hi Harriet. The files on my desk are for Sturgis. The list is some case law that needs to be researched. Harriet," said Mac, still looking in the mirror. "Do you like my hair?"
"Your hair?" repeated Harriet. "What about it?"
"Well, Clay has hinted once or twice that he's not fond of the style. He goes for the longer more classic look. What do you think?"
"Me? I love your cut. It's funky and fun. Half the women in the military look like country librarians and the other half look like men. You always manage to skirt regs and come up with a style that's current and feminine."
"Hmph, So you like it. And the color?" persisted Mac.
"You don't like the color?"
"Clay likes blondes," said Mac.
"Actually, I think you're as light as you can go without looking ... well fake," said Harriet. "I love the color."
Mac continued to run her fingers through her hair. "Well, maybe it is time to go for a more classic style. I am a little old for funky and fun."
Harriet was silent. Finally, Mac heard her say, "Okay. Time to get back to work. Let me know what else you need, Colonel."
It was a couple of hours later when Harriet stuck her head through the door and into Mac's office.
"Ma'am?" said Harriet. "Commander Coleman is in the conference room working on Petty Officer Laporte's sentencing hearing. She needs to ask you some questions."
Mac sighed. Alison Laporte was one name she had hoped she wouldn't hear again. Her inadvertent mistake that had revealed the classified information about the Petty Officer's Bedouin tribe was something else she needed to put behind her. It was going to be hard to look at Alison without feeling guilty.
As a defense attorney she had screwed up. But as fellow serviceman, she wondered how many soldiers had died at the hands of Alison's information. It was a truly poignant story in a war filled with irony. Chegwidden was right when he said that mistakes sometimes reveal the true nature of our feelings. Mac, newly returned from the tumultuous events in Paraguay, may have been guilty of just that.
Still smarting from the criticism of his peer Admiral Laporte, Chegwidden replaced Mac and appointed Lieutenant Command Faith Coleman as defense counsel for Alison's court martial. The evidence was overwhelming and the Petty Officer had been quickly convicted of the crime of treason. It was now the sentencing phase. Bud had wisely dropped the death penalty as the ultimate punishment. They were now arguing life in prison for Alison Laporte.
Mac walked down the hallway towards the conference room. She glanced into Harm's office. He was at his desk head bowed studying a file. In very un-Harm like fashion, the little office was crowded with half-opened boxes and files. She knew from the daily reports that Harm was making good headway on the Imes case files. Since returning to JAG, he had been a model officer. Gone was any trace of the defeated man she had seen playing the guitar last month.
As she entered the conference room, she could see Faith poring over a file.
"Colonel," said Faith, getting up from her chair.
"At ease, Commander," said Mac. "You wanted to see me?"
Faith studied her face. "I'm calling you as a witness."
Mac was startled. "My relationship with Alison is still protected under client confidentiality."
"I know," she said. "I'm not asking you to betray anything said. I am looking for you to comment generally on Alison's attitude toward her husband and the Bedouin tribe."
"She identifies completely with them. They are her family now. This is what I'll say under oath," said Mac, turning over the issues in her mind.
"If that's how you see it, then that's what I want you to say. Oh and I will also ask you questions about her attitude toward the Navy and her father," said Faith, turning over some papers in front of her. Mac noticed that there were four HB pencils lined up in a row in front of the file folder.
"Her attitude was hostile," said Mac. "How is any of this going to help her? Doesn't this just go to prove she had motive for treason?"
"Maybe. But I'm going to argue that she is suffering from Stockholm syndrome," Faith studied Mac for a reaction. She handed her a biography of an expert in the disorder. "My expert witness. He has studied her case and says it is consistent."
"I can see part of this. It explains why she considers herself a Bedouin now. A good defense for the desertion charge. But how does this mitigate the treason charge? Why did she betray the US Army and her father?"
"It is all consistent with the symptoms. People suffering from Stockholm syndrome actually see would-be rescuers as the enemy. They will work to thwart any attempt to save them from their abuser. It explains her anger to her father and the Navy. Bizarre, isn't it? Some experts theorize that many people in the State of Israel suffer from Stockholm syndrome. Why else would they stay in such an openly hostile environment?" she said.
Mac was silent for a moment. "So, even though she admittedly engaged in treasonous activities against her country, you are hoping she might get a break on the sentence. Is that it?"
"Basically," said Faith. "Battered women also react this way. They often support the abuser."
"My mother was a battered wife. I know what it is like," said Mac. "Is that all?"
"Yes," said Faith, still studying Mac. "Nothing more."
*******
"Going for the decaf, I see?" Harm smiled at her. She glanced up quickly then continued to pour coffee into her mug.
"I'm getting a good night sleep, one way or the other, "she said. "If I keep my nose to the grindstone, I should be out of here by 1900 tonight."
"Lucky you. That same grindstone has me here until at least 2100." Harm reached for the coffee. "It's the high test stuff for me."
"Look, I've been at this grindstone for a while now. You had a six-month vacation, as I recall." She teased and waited for witty reply. This was banter, right?
"Right," he agreed mildly. Mac looked at him through the steam off the coffee as she took a sip. Typical reaction from him lately. He neatly avoided her leading statement and instead chose instead to just concur.
Harm went on. "Look, Bud is going for a Chinese food run. You want anything before he leaves?"
Chinese takeout with Harm and Bud. Just like the old days. She revised her estimated departure time. 1930 would be okay too. The office was almost deserted now. The three of them could loosen their metaphorical ties and chat for a while. It had been a long time.
"Me? Want food? What do you think?" she smiled at Harm.
They were sitting in Harm's crowded office with half filled cardboard containers littered around. Harm had moved file boxes out to the hallway so the three could fit in. Bud was recounting the details of Harriet's reaction when she learned that Bud had named their son after the original Star Trek captain. If Mikey hadn't spilled the beans, he believed she would have never connected the dots. After all, it had 35 years since the series ran. Both Mac and Harm were in stitches over the antics of the Roberts family.
In some ways, it was like old times. Bud was basically back to normal, sans one foot. The injury that had caused so much upheaval in his life was no longer defining that life. He had found a measure of peace with it and was moving on.
Harm too, seemed okay. Maybe some day in the future, Paraguay would no longer define her relationship with Harm. Maybe he could move on too.
But not yet. Bud had given Harm several openings to talk about what had happened during his absence from JAG but he had not been forth coming. In some fashion, he was still hiding everything away into some sort of personal cubbyhole. Maybe the best they could hope for is just to ignore the whole thing.
"What's wrong with Sturgis?" asked Harm, interrupting Mac's thoughts.
Mac and Bud looked at him. "What do you mean?" she said.
"I've been buried since I came back and he's been away but even with that I have noticed a difference. He seems to have isolated himself. From everyone. Why?" said Harm.
Bud replied sheepishly. "It's all my fault. It's about my defense, or lack there of, at his competency hearing."
Bud had it all wrong. Mac knew it was more than that. "Wrong, counselor. Sturgis is mad at the whole office. Seems we all have disappointed him."
Harm nodded. "I noticed that. Lost his faith in mankind, has he? Sturgis always was a little too introspective for his own good." Mac watched him as he stared at the slowly whirling remnants of a bottle of Evian water in his hand.
Mac and Bud exchanged a look.
Harm went on. "Reality is that you can't change much. People are who they are. About the only person you can change is yourself."
Harm looked up and continued. "He'll get over it. Look, I better get back to work or I'll be here all night." The moment was gone.
Bud and Mac stood up, picking up empty cartons. Bud spoke, "Commander, you haven't said yet if you were coming over for Thanksgiving. It would be great to have you come. The admiral and Meredith are coming. Dad, Mikey and Harriet's parents. Coates and some date. Mac and Webb. Sturgis hasn't told me no yet, although I won't be surprised if he doesn't come."
Mac watched Harm look up quickly, startled. Just as quick, he looked away. "Thanks Bud, but I don't think I'll be able to make it. I've, uhhh, got this obligation down in Blacksburg. I better head there."
"Mattie Grace? That's her name, right? She's welcome too," Bud persisted.
Mac watched as Harm strengthened his resolve. "No. Look Bud, I'll stop by sometime on the weekend. Thanks anyway."
Bud fumbled at bit and left the office. Mac lingered for a moment and watched as he opened a file and started making notes on a page. Somehow, she wanted to reach out to him. But it wasn't her place anymore.