Chickenkraut
by Jenean McBrearty
Jerry Wayne Casey had just finished a rough Friday at Rockville Michigan City Hall clearing his calendar before he and his wife flew to California for a twenty year delayed honeymoon. Two robberies, one assault and battery, and one embezzlement—how hard should it be to persuade Rockville’s two defense attorneys to divvy up the cases? Two pro bonos apiece. Gideon v Wainwright entitled the poor to legal counsel, and the robbery and embezzlement defendants were certainly poor. And the assault and battery? It was the Borden brothers, at it again after swilling their homemade beer. They’d plead innocent, and get the usual thirty days in jail. Yet, it took a full day of arm twisting and a guarantee of two Sunday paper’s advertising in lieu of payment to get the Morgan Bros. LLC to agree to do their civic duty.
So, when the phone rang, and Jerry Wayne heard, “Governor Romney’s office on the line, Sir, will you hold?” he groaned a yes and said a silent prayer he wasn’t being tapped for some god-awful blue-ribbon panel.
“This is Gov. Romney’s secretary, Mr. Casey. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything.”
“Just my plans. What is it?”
“A letter from a guy named Cutter in Morganfield, Wisconsin. He’s got a guy in custody that’s been charged with war crimes in Germany and is fighting extradition—Kurtz Heineman. He wants to subpoena you as a character witness. Are you the Jerry Wayne Casey known as the chickenkraut?” He could hear the smile on her face. “Gov. Reynold’s office told Morganfield’s mayor to contact us because Heineman said he thought this chickenkraut guy had moved to Michigan.”
“When’s the hearing?”
“Next Thursday.”
“Who’s handling his case?”
“A Marion Shwartz—pro bono.”
Shwartz. Pro bono. It meant Kurtz Heineman would be in Berlin by Sunday. “Give me Cutter’s number.”