Baxter McGill was loaded into the paddy wagon at Rikers Island, and the van set off to the Queens county criminal court. Baxter was feeling better - he still looked like hell, with his shaved head and tired, bloodshot eyes. The paddy wagon arrived at the court at around 8:30 AM, and the prisoners were taken to holding cells below the courts. As a prisoner accused of a violent crime, Baxter had his ankles shackled and his hands were locked to a belt around his waist. There was no room to sit in the holding cells, so Baxter stood and waited. At 11:36 AM a guard from the court came down to the cell and called five names - Baxter’s was one of them. The prisoner’s who were called were taken from the holding cell, and escorted to a waiting room directly outside the court. This court hearing was the prisoner’s arraignment, and it was the chance for the prosecution, the Queen’s county district attorney office, to present the charges to a judge, and for the accused lawyer - if they had one - to respond to the charges. The judge would then make a decision on what would happen to the accused - which could be a number of things. The judge could throw the charges out, the judge could order the defendant remanded to custody, or the judge could set the accused free on bail until the next hearing.

Baxter sat on the wooden bench in the holding room off from the court. A court guard came into the room and called a name, and a man wearing Rikers Island prison overalls stood and was escorted to the door by another guard, and then taken into the room beyond. Baxter felt strange and feverish - he hoped that Jack would be on the other side of that door, and that Jack would save the day. Baxter had no idea what had happened, and how he had ended up in this building…he didn’t even know where this building was. He didn’t know what he had done to be here - dressed in orange prison overalls. And his hair - where had his hair gone? Why couldn’t he remember anything - he could remember things, but he just couldn’t remember anything that seemed recent. He remembered last Christmas, with Cheryl on Bimini. He remembered work - he remembered Ambrose and his colleagues and Pierce and Pierce. He remembered going to the club and smoking a cigar, and laughing at an off-color joke someone had made about Puerto Ricans. He remembered his apartment - and his collection of Mr. Amazing memorabilia. But he couldn’t remember anything that happened before waking up in that prison cell on Rikers Island.

‘McGill?’ - said a voice.

A guard was standing at the door, with a clipboard and was looking at the faces of the prisoners sitting on the benches.

‘McGill - Baxter McGill?’ - said the guard again, checking his clipboard.

‘I…’ - said Baxter, his voice weak and unsure of itself - ‘I am Baxter McGill’

‘Well let’s go McGill!’ - said the guard.

Baxter was helped to his feet by another guard, and he shuffled across the room to the door, where the other guard took him by the elbow and led him into the courtroom. The courtroom seemed chaotic, and disorganized. People were walking around and there were several conversations going on in groups. Sitting on the raised bench was the judge, who was conferring with someone.

‘Baxter!’ - came a voice.

Baxter turned his head quickly in the direction his name had come from, and he saw Jack’s face. Jack looked concerned at first, and then tried to give Baxter a reassuring smile. Jack was sitting behind a waist high fence in the public gallery, dressed in a smart three piece suit with his hair immaculately styled. Baxter looked at Jack, and was unsure what to do - he thought Jack must be looking at him with his shaved head, tired face, bloodshot eyes, and orange prison overalls and be thinking ‘what the hell is going on?’

Baxter heard some numbers being read out, and then heard his name - McGill, Baxter. And then the judge was saying - ‘Who is the council for Mr. Baxter McGill?’

And now Baxter was standing behind a wooden table - and a man he hand never seen before was coming through a gate in the wooden fence, and the man was saying ‘Lester O’Brien, of Pavlinski, Cohen & Daniels’

The man walked over to the table where Baxter was standing, and placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. This new man was also wearing a smart three piece suit and had immaculately styled hair. He had a handsome chiseled face, and wore large black framed glasses.

The judge smiled at this new man - ‘Lester O’Brien, of Pavlinski, Cohen & Daniels. Well i’ll be damned - If I don’t have legal royalty in my court this morning’

Lester O’Brien smiled at the judge.

The assistant district attorney who was representing the people in the case against Baxter McGill was looking at Lester O’Brien and his $3,000 suit, and almost imperceptibly shaking his head. Lester O’Brien made more money than every other lawyer working at the Queens county criminal court combined, and maybe even all of the judges as well.

The judge turned to the assistant DA - ‘Sure you don’t want to drop these charges right now - and save the people a whole lotta time and money?’

The assistant DA stood, and straightened his $150 suit jacket, and cleared his throat - ‘Judge - the people do charge that the accused, Baxter McGill of Manhattan, New York, is guilty of public vagrancy, public intoxication, resisting arrest, criminal damage to Police property, and assault on a Police officer’

The judge smiled at the assistant DA. He had given him his chance. The judge turned to Lester O’Brien - ‘And how does your client plead?’

‘My client pleads not guilty’ - said Lester, his hand still on Baxter’s shoulder, applying enough pressure to reassure Baxter that he was there for him and that everything would be okay.

‘Very well…’ - the judge turned back to the assistant DA - ‘And what are the people requesting with regards to the accused’s detention?’

The assistant district attorney, still standing - ‘The people are requesting that the accused be remanded in custody pending trial, given the serious and violent charges leveled against the accused, the people believe that this is the only appropriate course of action for this court to take’

The judge smiled and nodded - and turned back to Lester O’Brien - ‘And how does the defense respond to the people’s request?’

Lester O’Brien removed his hand from Baxter’s shoulder, and addressed the court - ‘Judge, these charges against my client are outrageous. Mr. McGill is a well respected member of the New York community, with no history of any criminal involvement. My client appears to be the victim in this case - Mr. Baxter was reported missing by his fiance, and appears to have suffered a medical emergency or is the victim of some traumatic and possibly violent event. The people, your honor…’ - Lester O’Brien, turned and looked at the assistant DA - ‘...should be focussing their efforts, time, and energy on investigating the apparent crimes that have been inflicted upon my client, rather than bringing these spurious and misdirected charges against an innocent and law abiding citizen’

The judge nodded, and sat in quiet reflection for a moment, and then spoke - ‘Council approach the bench…’

The assistant DA and Lester O’Brien both approached the judge. Baxter glazed over to Jack, who looked at him and nodded in a knowing way.

‘What are you trying to do here, councilor?’ - said the judge to the assistant DA.

‘Just because some guy lives in some swanky apartment on Park Avenue, and works on Wall Street doesn’t mean he can escape justice here in Queens’

The Judge shook his head - ‘You know he has you out gunned, don’t you? You ain’t gonna win this in front of a jury - If the accused can bring Mr. Lester O’Brien of Pavlinski, Cohen & Daniels to his arraignment, who do you think is going to turn up for a trial? A whole fuckin’ army of lawyers from PC&D - this case will never see the inside of a courtroom councilor, and there ain’t gonna be no justice for the people’

Lester O’Brien said nothing.

‘Do the people a favor, councilor - drop these charges’

The assistant DA stared at the judge, and then glanced at Lester O’Brien and then spoke - ‘The DA insists on a trial, judge’

The judge shook his head - ‘Fine, councilor. I am sure the DA is a very wise and astute legal mind. You can head back to your tables…’

Lester O’Brien walked back to where Baxter was standing, and the assistant DA went back to the prosecution table.

‘In the case of the people versus Baxter McGill, the court is releasing the defendant on a bond in the amount of $10,000. Pre-trial hearings to be scheduled in accordance with the court’s availability’

The judge’s gavel came down - ‘Next case’

Jack was immediately at the wooden fence behind Baxter - ‘Jesus Christ Baxter - what the hell has happened to you?’

Baxter broke down in tears, and hugged Jack.

***

‘Yes Cheryl, we are just paying the bond and then we will be heading home…he is fine…he looks like hell, but he is fine’ - said Jack into his phone - ‘We should be back with you in about an hour…okay…okay…Just sit tight Cheryl’

Jack paid the clerk the $10,000 bail bond, and then Baxter McGill was released from custody. He didn’t have any clothes, as the clothes he was arrested in had been incinerated at Rikers Island. Lester shook Baxter’s hand, and said that he would be in contact and then left - saying he had a lunch appointment at the Yacht Club.

Jack led Baxter to his car which was parked nearby. Jack didn’t say anything until they were in the car - ‘What the hell has happened to you Baxter?’

Baxter looked at the road ahead of him, and he began to cry again - ‘I don’t know Jack - I just don’t know!’

‘What happened to your hair?’ - said Jack, concentrating on driving, but glancing over to Baxter every once in a while.

Baxter ran his fingers over his bald head, as more tears rolled down his face - ‘Jack, I just don’t know. I cannot remember anything. I can remember stuff, like I remember the labor day party out at the beach house - the barbecue and the oysters - I remember all of that. But if you asked me what happened last week, I just don’t know. Its like there is a gap - a giant hole that is missing’

Jack lit a cigarette, and lowered the window a little - blowing the smoke out of the crack.

‘Do you remember borrowing the money - for your business?’

Baxter looked ahead of him - and slowly shook his head.

‘The $5,000,000 - from the trust fund?’ - said Jack, puffing his cigarette and flicking the ash out of the crack in the window.

‘Jack - I’m sorry, but I just don’t know what you are talking about. What business?’

Jack took a final drag from the cigarette, and then flicked it out of the window. He shook his head - ‘Don’t worry about it Baxter, we can discuss it at another time. Let’s just get you home and with Cheryl’

They drove in silence for the rest of the journey - until they pulled up outside of Baxter’s apartment building.

‘Stay here for a moment, okay’ - said Jack, climbing out of the car.

Baxter watched Jack walk up to the building’s entrance, and speak to Bernie, the doorman. Bernie was nodding his head, and then he took off his long coat and handed it to Jack. Jack returned to the car, and opened the passenger side door.

‘Slip this on’ - said Jack, and he handed Baxter Bernie’s long coat.

Baxter put the coat over his shoulders, and then stepped from the car - looking disheveled, the bottoms of his legs showing the orange prison overalls and his feet in Rikers Island flip flops. Jack took Baxter by the elbow and pulled him towards the door, which Bernie was holding open. Bernie was smiling, but when he saw Baxter’s shaved head and tired and exhausted face his smile dropped.

‘I will bring the coat back in a bit’ - said Jack, and Bernie nodded.

They rode the elevator in silence up, and Jack continued to lead Baxter by the elbow to his apartment door. Jack wrapped his knuckles on the door, and almost instantly the door was flung open by Cheryl. Cheryl looked at Baxter, and immediately began crying. Jack pulled Baxter into the apartment, and closed the door. Baxter stood and stared at the crying Cheryl whose hands were over her mouth.

‘Okay, let's get you inside and comfortable’ - said Jack, pulling Baxter by the elbow to the lounge.

Baxter was in a daze - he was crying too. He followed Jack into the lounge, and then felt the coat being pulled off his shoulders. Then he felt Jack pushing him down, and he lowered himself into a soft chair.

Cheryl was standing in front of him - her hand still over her mouth and her eyes leaking tears - ‘Oh my god…’ - said Cheryl, finally.

Jack was now leaving the room, and was heading to the kitchen. He closed the lounge door behind him. Cheryl lowered herself tentatively beside Baxter, and he gave her a weak smile - that seemed to temple. And then Cheryl hugged Baxter - and the pair of them hugged each other and cried. Jack returned a while later with a cup of sweet tea that he insisted that Baxter drink. Jack then placed a call, and spoke to a doctor he knew.

Jack sat and lit a cigarette - ‘Okay, so that was Dr. Doyne, and he is going to be coming over here and he is going to be giving Baxter a full medical, do you understand?’

Cheryl and Baxter nodded.

‘Now it seems that Baxter - that you - have experienced some kind of trauma. Now I am not a medical expert, and that’s why I want Doyne to have a look at you - to make sure that you are okay’

Baxter sipped the tea, and gripped Cheryl’s hand as Jack spoke.

‘Now Baxter, you have no idea how you ended up on Rikers and in police custody?’

Baxter shook his head.

‘The police report says you were found on a park bench in Far Rockaway, in Queens. Do you know why you were in Far Rockaway?’

Baxter shook his head - ‘Jack, I really don’t remember anything’

‘Cheryl says that the last time she saw you, you were heading out to New Jersey, to sell some collectables - do you remember heading to New Jersey?’

Baxter began to sob again, and Cheryl put her arm around him and looked at Jack, and shook her head.

Jack puffed his cigarette, and then stood and walked to the fireplace - and flicked the ash in the grate.

‘Okay - let’s just see what Dr. Doyne says’ - said Jack, taking another puff of his cigarette and then throwing it into the fireplace.

***

Dr. Doyne had given Baxter a sedative, and he was sleeping. Jack, Cheryl, and Dr. Doyne were sitting in the lounge, and were drinking coffee.

‘Well…’ - said Dr. Doyne - ‘Baxter seems in perfect health, the blood work comes back all okay. The white cell count is a little high, so he might be fighting a low level infection - but other than that, he is in perfect health’

Jack lit a cigarette, and sipped his coffee - ‘And the memory thing?’

Dr. Doyne shrugged a little - ‘Well, I cannot really say anything about that. There doesn’t appear to be any head injuries. So I would say that Baxter hasn’t suffered any recent trauma - the type of trauma that might leave one with memory loss’

‘Will his memory return?’ - said Cheryl

‘The mind is a strange thing, Cheryl’ - said Dr. Doyne - ‘I can give you a referral to a colleague of mine, a neurologist. They would be best situated to provide a diagnosis, or at least perhaps some insight as to what is going on with Baxter’

‘And the hair?’ - said Cheryl

‘Baxter appears to have been shaved - why I cannot say. But it will grow back, of that I am certain’ - said Dr. Doyne, who now looked at his watch and stood.

Jack stubbed out his cigarette, and stood too.

‘Thank you Bruce’ - said Jack - ‘I will see you out’

Cheryl thanked Dr. Doyne, and Jack walked him to the apartment door.

‘Baxter just needs to get some rest - in a couple of days he might get his memories back’ - said Dr. Doyne, and Jack thanked him again and then he left. Jack stayed with Cheryl for a while longer, and then left as well. Cheryl was exhausted, and she climbed into bed beside Baxter and fell asleep.

The following morning Cheryl awoke, and Baxter was not there. Cheryl scrambled out of bed and raced down the stairs - she could hear Manuela talking to someone and Cheryl hurried to the kitchen. Baxter was sitting at the kitchen table, and was eating a huge plate of scrambled eggs and sausages. A half empty jug of milk was sitting on the table, and Manuela was busy cooking more eggs and sausage.

Baxter was wearing his robe, and smiled at Cheryl between mouthfuls of food. He paused eating, and drank from the plastic jug of milk and Manuela put more eggs and sausage on his plate.

‘How are you feeling, baby?’ - said Cheryl, placing a hand on the back of Baxter’s shaved head.

Baxter stuffed more food into his mouth, and smiled at Cheryl.

‘I don’t know…’ - said Baxter.

Cheryl looked at Manuela - and Manuela shrugged.

‘You are hungry?’ - said Cheryl.

‘Yeah - I am hungry’ - said Baxter - ‘Starving!’

‘Mr. Baxter has had 12 eggs and 10 sausages already’ - said Manuela.

‘But you are feeling okay?’ - said Cheryl, now sitting beside Baxter.

‘Hey Manuela - can you make some pancakes?’ - said Baxter, drinking more milk.

‘Sure Mr. Baxter’ - said Manuela, glancing at Cheryl and raising her eyebrows.

‘Baxter - how are you feeling?’ - said Cheryl, placing a hand on Baxter’s hand.

Baxter paused eating for a moment, and pondered this question - ‘You know Cheryl, I feel great. I don’t think I have ever felt better!’

And then Baxter returned to shoveling food into his mouth.