Authors: Ruth Hartzler
1 Peter 5:8-9.
Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.
Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world.
Chapter 9
.
Martha returned from work the next afternoon tired and frustrated. Laura had been talking about Moses again and had hinted more than once that Martha should invite them both over for dinner again.
No sooner had she walked into the apartment, than there was a loud knock on the door. Martha turned around and opened the door to see two police officers on the doorstep. One handed her papers which he called a
warrant
, and the other informed her that she had to accompany them to the police station. Martha saw that her name was on the warrant, and so was Sheryl's.
"Why, what, why?" she stammered. She was so shocked that she didn’t quite understand what the officers were telling her. One photographed her and then walked around taking photographs of the apartment.
Martha realized that one of the officers was speaking to her. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"That handbag you are carrying is a stolen Gucci."
"It can’t be," Martha said. "Sheryl let me borrow it." The officer simply made a speech to Martha, the only words of which she understood in her confusion were
arrest
,
felony, right to remain silent
. The officer then put handcuffs on her and led her away.
* * *
Martha sat in the interview room at the police station. She was in shock and unable to take in what the officers were saying to her. They made her repeat the same thing over and over again, and then some.
"So your story is that you are an Amish girl on
rumspringa
. You answered a newspaper advertisement and are renting a room from Sheryl Garner in her apartment. You have been working as a short order cook. You have no non Amish clothes so Sheryl Garner has been letting you borrow hers. You allege that you borrowed them at her suggestion."
"Yes," Martha said yet again, trying hard to bite back tears.
"And you allege that you had no knowledge of Sheryl's activities."
Martha did burst into tears this time. "No," she said between sobs.
"This is your first offense," one of the officers said. "If you tell us all you know, it will be better for you. You'll get a lighter sentence; it will be a misdemeanor of the first degree. Otherwise, you could be facing charges of felony of the third degree. The penalty for that is seven years in jail or a fine of between $2,500 and $15,000, or maybe both jail
and
a fine."
"But I don’t know anything," Martha said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue and shifting uncomfortably on the hard, green, plastic chair. Her legs had gone to sleep as she had been sitting there for so long. She could see that the officers didn’t believe her. What a nightmare this was; what had Sheryl done? Perhaps she should not have refused her right to a criminal defense lawyer. She had no idea where she'd get one anyway. Martha was confused and frightened. The fingerprinting and the photographs had been humiliating. She had been treated like a criminal; in fact, the officers clearly thought she
was
a criminal. What would happen now?
"If you can't afford an attorney," one of the officers continued, "you are entitled to an attorney paid for and appointed by the state. This means you don't have to pay for the attorney," he said slowly to Martha in case she hadn't understood.
"But I've done nothing wrong," Martha said. "I don't need an attorney."
Just then there was a loud commotion and both officers hurried outside. One returned soon after and said, "There's been an incident; we have to clear the area. Do you have any objection if we place you in a holding cell for a short time until we can recommence questioning?"
"I suppose that's okay," Martha said, still unsure of her rights and the ramifications of whatever she happened to agree to. This was all completely foreign to her.
The officer hurriedly led her down several corridors, until they reached an area into which they were buzzed by a uniformed police officer. Martha gasped when they walked through. In front of her stretched rows and rows of cold, steel bars and cold concrete floors. Much to her dismay, Martha was put into one of the holding cells with another woman. Martha eyed the woman apprehensively. She looked young, and not like Martha imagined a criminal to look, but then again, Martha had never imagined Sheryl as a criminal either. Martha took in the girl's long, blonde hair, her vivid blue eyes, and her pale skin.
Martha tentatively took a seat on the bench, as far away from the girl as possible. For a moment neither spoke, and then the girl asked shyly, "What are you in for?"
Martha looked at the girl. She didn't look dangerous, but Martha was wary. "My house mate has been stealing clothes and the police think I'm involved in it, too."
"And are you?"
Martha shook her head. "No. What about you?"
"I fell in with a bad crowd. They stole a car, and I was riding in it. We were all arrested, but I didn't know it was stolen. I'm Amish; I'm on my
rumspringa
." The girl shivered.
"But I'm on my
rumspringa,
too!" Martha exclaimed.
The girl's whole demeanor changed. "You are? That's
wunderbaar
!" she gushed. "I'm Sarah Beachy. I'm from Kentucky; not from around here. I don’t know any Amish here. I've left the Amish forever."
"Me too," said Martha, surprised at Sarah's words, but then amended it to, "At least, I'm considering it. My name's Martha Miller." It was clear to her that
Gott
had caused the two of them to meet; this surely could not be a coincidence.
"I'm all by myself," Sarah said and then burst into hysterical sobs.
Martha was at a loss; she simply patted the girl on the back and made soothing noises.
"Sorry about that," Sarah managed to say. "My
mudder
passed away and my
daed
remarried, and his new
fraa
doesn't like me, so I left."
"What about your
bruders
and
schweschders
?"
Sarah shook her head. "
Nee
, I don't have any.
Mamm
had trouble having me; I was the only
boppli
."
Martha was full of concern. "Where are you staying now?'
Sarah held a tissue to her eyes and Martha was afraid that her question might have promoted a fresh flood of tears. "I have nowhere to stay;
Gott
has abandoned me."
"
Nee
,
nee
," Martha hurried to say. "
Gott
hasn't abandoned you. You can stay with my
familye
until you figure things out." Martha thought of her own
mudder's
possible reaction to Sarah, and so added, "Or perhaps another
familye
in my community. But you do have somewhere to stay now.
Gott
has brought me to you."
Sarah's face brightened. "
Jah
, I suppose He has."
"When I leave here, I’ll leave my
familye's
name with the police officers for you. And just in case they don't give it to you, you'll remember the name
Miller
, won't you?"
"
Jah
." Sarah had stopped crying and had some color back in her cheeks. "
Denki
, Martha,
denki
so much. I feel so much better now."
Martha looked around the room. She realized that she was sitting in a holding cell at a police station, all bars and concrete, cold and frightening, and she was under arrest. Yet her spirits lifted, as she was sure that
Gott
had led her there to help Sarah.
Proverbs 3:11-12.
My son, do not despise the Lord's discipline
or be weary of his reproof,
for the Lord reproves him whom he loves,
as a father the son in whom he delights.
Chapter 10
.
The rest of the afternoon seemed to pass in a flash, and Martha felt detached from the whole proceedings. It was as if she was having a dream from which she was unable to awake.
At her request, the officers allowed Martha to make a phone call. Martha sat under the harsh light of low-hanging fluorescent lights in a cold, gray office chair beside a stark, metal desk in the middle of a room filled with police officers at similar metal desks, while the officer called the Hostetler barn. Martha looked around the room. The plaster was peeling off the walls which were painted in two shades of a most unpleasant green. The floor was tiled in an additional and horrible two shades of green. The smell of coffee filled the air, but it was not a welcoming scent; rather, it was intimidating. Everything about the room was intimidating.
The officer handed the phone to Martha, but there was no answer. "Could you please try one more time?" she asked the officer.
"Once more," he said. He tried again, but there was still no answer.
Martha was then taken to another man who spoke for some time, but by then, she was in a daze.
Finally, one of the officers shoved something in front of her to sign. She read it; it said she agreed to be present for hearings. After she signed it, the officer said, "You can go now."
"But what about bail?" Martha knew nothing of arrest procedures except for the fact that people usually had to pay bail.
"You're out on ROR."
When Martha looked up at him, puzzled, he explained. "You are released on your own recognizance. You've agreed in writing to appear at all proceedings. ROR means you don't have to post any money and you're not required to check in." He handed Martha a paper bag with her belongings. "The stolen handbag in your possession has been kept as evidence." As Martha stood looking at him, he added, "Do you have enough money for a taxi home?"
Martha nodded, and the policeman walked off, saying, "Make sure you get a lawyer," over his shoulder before he left.
Martha had no idea how she got home to her apartment. Once she was inside, she locked the door behind her and made a cup of hot meadow tea. She sat and sipped it, shivering despite the fact that the afternoon was warm. Sheryl was supposed to be back by now, but there was no sign of her. Martha had no idea if Sheryl was still being detained at the police station. She had asked the police officers about Sheryl, but they had refused to tell her anything.
After the meadow tea, Martha's head cleared somewhat. She did not want her
familye
to know that she had been arrested for stealing. Despite the fact that she was innocent, she felt ashamed. She had so wanted to make her way in the
Englisch
world, and her
mudder
, if she heard what happened, would insist she return home at once.
There was only one thing for it: she would have to call Moses.
Martha took her phone out of the paper bag and called the Hostetler barn.
Please pick up, please pick up
, she repeated over and over again. It rang out twice. "Please
Gott
, please
Gott
, let someone answer," she said aloud. Finally, on the third try, she heard Moses' voice.
"Moses!" Martha all but yelled down the phone.
"What's happened? Is something wrong?"
"Yes." Martha only managed to get the one word out before collapsing into a flood of tears. Try as she might, she was unable to stop crying, but sobbed and sobbed, only pausing to blow her nose loudly, and all the while, Moses was still on the phone.
"I'll be right there." At least that's what she thought Moses said, and the line went dead. Martha wondered what to do, and after a while called back, but there was no answer, so she assumed he was on the way.
Martha paced up and down the apartment until Moses arrived, and it was all she could do not to fling herself at him and sob on his shoulder.
Moses' face was white and drawn. "What’s happened?"
"I was arrested," Martha blurted.
Moses jaw dropped open. "Now come and sit down. I’ll make you a hot tea and you can tell me all about it. I know you don’t like sugar in your tea, but it will help with the shock."
Martha allowed herself to be led to the sofa, and as Moses headed for the kitchen, she called out, "The sugar's in the salt container."
Moses returned with the tea and wouldn’t let Martha speak until she'd sipped some. "Now, tell me all about it."
Martha told Moses how she had been arrested for stealing, how the police had searched the place, and that they had accused her of being in a retail theft organization with Sheryl.
Moses looked thoughtful. "And who is in this supposed retail organization?"
Martha shrugged. "Just me, I think - oh, and Sheryl obviously. The police officers said they found thousands of dollars worth of stolen designer clothes and handbags, and expensive jewelry too, right here in this apartment."
"You told them you had nothing to do with it, obviously."
"Yes." Martha nodded vehemently, but that made her head hurt. "They didn’t believe me. I told them I’d only borrowed clothes from Sheryl. Anyway, they said if I told them all I knew, I’d get a lesser sentence, but I’d already told them everything I knew, and they didn’t believe me." Martha felt she would cry again, but there were no more tears left. Instead, her head throbbed horribly.
"You need a lawyer."
Martha nodded. "Ouch, Moses, I've suddenly got a crashing headache. Could you please get me some Advil? There's some in the bathroom."
Moses hurried off to find the Advil, while Martha was left to sit there and consider how blessed she was to have such a friend as Moses. She felt safe and protected when Moses was around. Even the arrest didn’t seem so frightening now that Moses was going to help.
Moses returned with Advil and a glass of water. "Don’t worry, Martha; I’ll take care of everything. I'll find you a
gut
lawyer. I assume you don’t want your
familye
to know?"
Martha winced. "It’s just
Mamm
. She'd make me come home at once, and I'd lose my new chocolate contract. I'd like to tell my
schweschders
and my
daed
, but they wouldn’t be able to keep it from
Mamm
. Can it just be our secret for the moment?"
"Of course." Moses smiled at her tenderly, and took her hand in his, patting it gently.
Martha looked up into his thoughtful, blue eyes and felt that all was well with the world, with Moses there to care for her.