I had been looking forward to going to the Hawaiian Islands ever since I was a kid, reading James Michener. Sitra had purchased us some new duds, and we wore them to the airport, arriving there about two hours before our departure. I was dressed in khaki shorts, an orange silk shirt with hibiscus flowers and sunglasses. She was in a floral sundress with yellow hisbiscus flowers. This was going to be a great time, or so I thought.
We were standing in line at the airport security area, after having checked in for our flight. After I had been wanded over and thoroughly inspected, an airport official came up to me and asked Are you Charles Winfield?. I said, yes. He said, lets make this easy and please follow me. They asked Sitra to step aside, and she said I don’t think so, we just got married. The agent said dryly, congratulations, and told her to please not interfere. I calmed her down and said that it would just be a minute. As soon as I stepped around a corner with the agent though, I was surrounded by several more. They said that I was being charged with murder in Las Vegas, and was facing extradition shortly. Well, there went my day.
They “escorted” me in handcuffs through the bowels of the airport to a car waiting to escort me to Lonestar’s Downtown headquarters. The car ride was silent, and there were several similar looking vehicles in our entourage, who zoomed off in different directions. When we got to headquarters I was placed in a separate cell, with these unusual handcuffs still on me.
After a couple hour wait, several heavily armed guards came to again escort me to their interrogation room. There was a little bit of good cop, bad cop action, but I knew not to say anything. They offered me immunity if I would name names of the individuals responsible, as the one cop squeezed my arm and said I couldn’t hurt a fly. I refused to speak and asked for for an attorney. They then said that they can’t do anything for me, but I will be able to make a call when I get to the Ute Territory and they sarcastically wished me a nice flight. At one time during the interview process, there was a knock on the door. Who should enter, but Arianna who whispered something to one of my interviewers and left. The short time she was in there, she wouldn’t even look at me.
Soon, I was on my way back to Las Vegas, a lot sooner than when I had anticipated. I heard one of the guards say “This boy will have a fun time in gen pop.” The other one chuckled.