Dark Rivers of the Heart

said,
        "This is total bullshit, total, it stinks, it really reeks.
        You're the most honest man I've ever known, a straight arrow since you were a kid. You made it hell for a brother to measure up. You're an annoying goddamned saint, is what you are! Anyone who says you're a cocaine dealer is a moron or a liar. Listen, don't worry about this, don't worry for a minute, a second, a nanosecond. You have an exemplary past, not a stain, the record of an annoying goddamned saint.
        We'll get low bail, and eventually we'll convince them it's a mistake or a conspiracy. Listen, I swear to you, it's never going to go to trial, on our mother's grave, I swear to you."
        Darius was five years younger than Harris but resembled him to such an extent that they seemed to be twins. He was also as brilliant as he was hyperkinetic, a fine criminal trial attorney. If Darius said there was no reason to worry, Harris would try not to worry.
        "Listen, if it's a conspiracy," Darius said, "who's behind it?
        What walking slime would do this? Why? What enemies have you made?"
        "I can't think of any. Not any whore capable of this."
        "It's total bullshit. We'll have them crawling on their bellies to apologize, the bastards, the morons, the ignorant geeks. This burns me.
        Even saints make enemies, Harris."
        "I can't point a finger," Harris insisted.
        "Maybe saints especially make enemies."
        Less than eight hours later, shortly after ten o'clock Saturday morning with his brother at his side Harris was brought before a judge.
        He was ordered held for trial. The federal prosecutor wanted a ten-milliondollar bail, but Darius argued for Barris's release on his own recognizance. Bail was set at five hundred thousand, which Darius considered acceptable because Harris would be free upon posting ten percent to a bondsman's ninety.
        Harris and Jessica had seventy-three thousand in stocks and savings accounts. Since Harris didn't intend to flee prosecution, they would get their money back when he went to court.
        The situation wasn't ideal. But before they could proceed to structure a legal counteroffensive and get the charges dismissed, Harris had to regain his freedom and escape the extraordinary danger faced by a police officer in jail. At least events were finally moving in the right direction.
        Seven hours later, at five o'clock Saturday afternoon, Harris was taken from the holding cell to the lawyer-client conference room, where Darius was waiting for him again-with bad news. The FBI had persuaded a judge that probable cause existed to conclude that the Descoteaux house had been used for illegal purposes, thus permitting immediate application of federal property-forfeiture statutes. The FBI and D.E.A then acquired liens against the house and its contents.
        To protect the government's interests, federal marshals had evicted Jessica, Willa, and Ondine, permitting them to pack only a few articles of clothing. The locks had been changed. At least for the time being, guards were posted at the property.
        Darius said, "This is crap. Okay, maybe it doesn't technically violate the recent Supreme Court decision on forfeiture, but it sure as hell violates the spirit. For one thing, the court said they now have to give the property owner a notice of intent to seize."
        "Intent to seize?" Harris said, bewildered.
        "Of course, they'll say they served that notice at the same time as the eviction order, which they did. But the court clearly meant there should be a decent interval between notice and eviction."
        Harris didn't understand. "Evicted Jessica and the girls?"
        "Don't worry about them," Darius said. "They're staying with Bonnie and me. They're all right."
        "How can they evict them?"
        "Until the Supreme Court rules on other aspects of forfeiture laws, if it ever does, eviction can still take place prior to the hearing, which is unfair. Unfair? Jesus, it's worse than unfair, it's totalitarian.
        At least these days You get a hearing, which wasn't required till recently. You'll go before a judge in ten days, and he'll listen to your argument against forfeiture."
        "It's my house."
        "But it's my house."
        "I have to tell you, the hearing doesn't mean much. The feds will pull every trick in the book to be sure it's assigned to a judge with a strong