Extraordinary Rendition by Paul Batista Page A

having been sanctioned for what was called frivolous conduct. Byron flushed at the use of the word, which he had sometimes in the past invoked against an opposing lawyer but which had never been turned on him. Ursula Betancourt was threatening him, and even in the artificially cold courtroom he experienced a sweaty sense of frustration and now, with the use of the word frivolous, a sharp pang of resentment. For the first time in his career, he was no longer, he realized, a select member of the choir.
    Byron Johnson simply stared at her, declining her challenge. When Ursula Betancourt realized that he wasn’t going to rise to what she knew was a taunt, she posed a question that was meant to test him, and it did. “One issue you’ve not addressed at all in your papers, Mr. Johnson, is the impact of the SAMs designation of your client. Do you want to address that now before I rule?”
    Byron Johnson was speechless. Even a mind as fast as his failed to frame an answer to a question about which he knew nothing. “I’m not familiar with that term.”
    Ursula Betancourt glanced at Hamerindapal Rana, who had not said a word at the conference after announcing at the outset who he was. It was as if they shared a secret, for they both knew the term.
    “Special Administrative Measures,” Judge Betancourt said. “SAMs, Mr. Johnson. Are you not familiar with them?”The tone of her voice bore the mocking disbelief of a seventh-grade teacher asking a student why he was not familiar with the answer to three times eight. After waiting precisely five seconds without an answer from Byron, she became brusque, business-like. “The motion for the release of the defendant, for dismissal, for change of conditions of confinement, for an expansion of the hours of attorney-client meetings, and for permission for family visits to the detainee are all denied. Among other things, Mr. Johnson has failed to note that his client is subject to a SAMs designation and, as a result, his client is committed to the custody of the Justice Department, is expressly not allowed bail, and is explicitly prohibited from contact with all outsiders other than a lawyer.”
    She turned off the reading light in front of her face. And finally she said, “I think it’s only fair to Mr. Johnson to give him warning that, if he again asks for relief that new federal law makes clear he can’t get for his client, the court will consider imposing substantial financial sanctions on Mr. Johnson personally. I can’t tolerate a waste of Mr. Rana’s time, not to mention the court’s time.”
    Hal Rana remained silent at the prosecution table. He didn’t even glance at Byron Carlos Johnson.
    Christina Rosario had waited for Byron on a bench outside the locked courtroom. Only lawyers, the judge, and three armed United States Marshals had been allowed inside. When Byron emerged, she stood up. He saw her expectant, questioning look. He said, “Bad day in Black Rock.”
    She frowned.
    As they stepped out onto the bleak sun-drenched stone plaza in front of the courthouse, three news cameras focused on them. Reporters pressed forward, vying for his attention. Byron looked stunned. It had never occurred to him that reporters knew about the court appearance or that they had simply followed him to Miami and the courthouse. The motion he had filed had been sealed, hidden from the public computerized court files. No notice had appeared anywhere of the scheduling of the hearing. Plainclothes guards had locked the entrance to the courtroom.
    Byron didn’t speak. The taxi he had hired to bring him and Christina to the courthouse was waiting. He let Christina step inside before he did. Voices outside the locked door continued their insistent clamor. Cameras were pointed at the tinted windows. The car moved steadily forward through people who stepped to the side only as the front bumper came within inches of them.

8

    S ANDY SPENCER—GREGARIOUS, GENTLEMANLY, always at ease—often