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“Oh, thank god, please, I need help, please!” she tried to draw them in, but the woman looked at her in shock and immediately closed the door.
A few minutes later, a man and woman came into the room, and again, she pleaded with them to free her. She went on for several minutes while they turned their backs on her and spoke privately. Either they didn’t understand her English or they were determined to deal with her in their own way. They soon left, too, turning her cries into a rain of sad tears.
Perhaps an hour passed, it was h
ard to tell, when suddenly the door burst open and several policemen entered the room. At first they just stared down at her shaking their heads, then they removed the cuffs that had her bound—although they did not remove the iron collar. She was led away, wearing nothing but an old brown sweater someone handed them. This covered her breasts and nearly covered her bottom. But it was scant protection from the dozens of eyes that peered out of their rooms as she was led through the hotel, and no cover at all from the curious glances of a crowd that gathered in the street to watch.
Her cell was cold and dingy, but at least she was given something to wear. The grey muslin prison dress was as welcome to her as the chance to pee and the drink of water to wash away the bad taste of the previous night. A little food followed, a dry biscuit, a piece of meat and an apple that went down as easily as a gourmet meal.
When she had the chance, she pleaded her case with the arresting officers, but none of them understood enough English to explain the charges. Hours later, a woman who spoke passable English was led into her cell.
“I’m a lawyer. I represent you.”
“Yes, I’m a lawyer, too,” Laney wryly replied.
The woman didn’t quite understand and that was just as well.
Indecency, prostitution, failure to pay the hotel bill, by virtue of the fact that she had no purse, no clothes, and no means of identification. The litany of her crimes sounded pretty grim.
Laney tried to explain her position, but for this court, the case was cut and dried, and the woman offered no defense when two days later, they stood together before the judge. He mumbled something in Czech that Laney didn’t understand.
“What did he say?” she asked her counselor.
“You’ll be fined and released, but first you must see him in his chambers.”
“What for?”
The woman avoided Laney’s question, saying under her breath: “You go there and do what you have to. There’s no getting out of here until you do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, don’t fight it,” she said in a terse whisper. “Kind of woman you are, should be easy for you.”
“What should be easy?”
“You go. You see yourself.”
Laney waited several hours in the hallway outside the judge’s chambers for the man to let her in the door. She was cold, barefoot and looking like a sad little ragdoll by the time the door opened and she was invited inside with a wave of the magistrate’s hand.
Unlike a judge’s plush chambers in a US courthouse, this room was sparse, painted a flat grey color, and had no carpeting, just a dingy linoleum, and blinds that rattled against the window, responding to the heat pumped from the radiator beneath it. The air was oppressively hot, so much so that Laney could barely breathe.
Where he couldn’t speak a word of English in the courtroom, he was perfectly fluent now that he had her behind doors.
“You’ve made a find mess of yourself,” he boldly spit out as he pretended to review her case file.
“Sir, if you will please let me explain. I can prove to you who I am. I have a hotel room in town, and clothes. I’m an American citizen, a lawyer. I have money, sir.”
His eyes narrowed reproachfully. “No no no bribe me.”
“No! I was not intending to bribe you. I have money for any fine I have to pay.”
He studied her for a minute more, finally pronouncing judgment.
“You will be jailed three months for your crimes.”
“No! You can’t! That’s not what you said in court! Please. You must let me explain.”
“Not three months? No?”
