November 6,
1967
5:30PM PST
Marty looks out the window at the night sky. He sighs, then paces impatiently around his cell. Finally, the jail cop comes back with keys.
"You're in luck, Hippie," said the jail cop. "You've made bail."
"Alright, Doc," said Marty. "I knew you'd pull it off!" The cop opens the cell and Marty follows him out.
Marty signs a form, and the jail cop hands him back his wallet. Marty opens it and sees it's empty.
"Where's my three hundred dollars?" questioned Marty.
"Impounded as evidence," answered the jail cop. "You'll get it back after your trial. If it's really yours." Marty looks around the Police Station and there's no sign of Doc.
"Where is he?" asked Marty. "The guy who paid my bail?"
"Guy?" questioned the jail cop. "I think you're a little confused."
"I paid your bail," said a woman's voice. Marty was shocked to see that the woman who paid his bail was none other than Lorraine McFly, his own mother. Lorraine is now 29 and looks like a flower child with long straight hair with a flower in it and a granny dress. She was wearing an "Another Mother for Peace" button.
"Marty Tuttle, right?" said Lorraine. "I read about you in the paper. I'm Lorraine McFly." She extended her hand to him.
"Uh, hi," said Marty, shaking her hand. "Thanks for bailing me out."
"I hope you know what you're doing, ma'am," said the jail cop. "If he skips town or doesn't show up for his trial next month, you'll forfeit the whole 500 dollars."
"Oh, I can tell by just looking at him that he'll never do that," said Lorraine. "Mother's instinct." Marty just smiles weakly. He's also worried that he might have to stay in 1967 for a whole month. Marty and Lorraine exit the police station together.
"You seem very surprised about all this, Marty," said Lorraine.
"Yeah," Marty said nervously. "That's one way to describe it."
"Well, there are a lot of us in town who really believe in what you're doing, resisting the draft and all," said Lorraine. "It takes a lot of guts to be willing to go to jail for your beliefs. I admire that."
"Uh yeah," said Marty. "Me too."
"You see," said Lorraine. "I have a little boy, David. He's only four years old and I'd hate to see him go off to war."
"Don't worry about that," Marty blurted out.
"And my brother Toby's going to be 18 next year," said Lorraine. "He might have to go to Vietnam. It would be good for him to talk to you. Someone his own age."
"Yeah," said Marty, quietly. "His own age." He chuckles at the irony.
"Then you'll talk to him?" said Lorraine. "Great! In fact, we're having dinner at my folks' tonight. Mom won't mind an extra mouth to feed."
"Well," said Marty. "I should really get going."
"Going where?" wondered Lorraine.
"Uh, well," said Marty. "I got to meet somebody."
"I'll give you a ride," said Lorraine. "My car's right here." Lorraine pointed to a '63 Rambler Wagon.
"Well," said Marty. "It's kinda far. Out of town, actually."
"You can't leave town," exclaimed Lorraine. "I'll lose my bail money. And think of what it will do to the movement."
"The movement?" questioned Marty.
"The anti-war movement," said Lorraine. "Most people, like my father, think draft resisters are cowards. They don't understand that there are principles involved. But if you run off, they'll say 'See, I told you he was a coward.' You'd be setting a terrible example."
"Look, Lorrai-Mom-Mrs. McFly," said Marty. "I think you think I'm something I'm not."
"Don't be so modest," said Lorraine. "Goldie Wilson said he'd never met such a determined uncompromising young man. Now you're joining us for dinner and I won't take no for an answer."
