Dream of: 14 June 1996 "Heinous Crimes"

Evidence had been found which linked a man to some heinous crimes – the torture and killing of many children. The evidence was two pieces of chewing gum which had been found at the scene of one of the crimes. The pieces of gum had had the imprint of one of the man's back teeth – an imprint which showed the shape of a filling in one of the man's teeth. I was told that if only one piece of gum had been found, the evidence couldn't have been used. But since there had been two pieces of gum, a test had been able to be performed.

I was shown a printout of the test results, which showed two sets of irregular lines. The two sets matched exactly: conclusive proof that the man suspected of the crimes was indeed guilty.

The man was already in custody and I could see him before me. He was being held in the back of a pickup truck and was surrounded by plainclothes policemen. The man was probably in his mid thirties and slender. He had brown disheveled hair and his front teeth were slightly protruding. It appeared that he might even be slightly retarded.

A crowd of people had surrounded the pickup truck, and just as I was made aware that a positive identification of the man had been made, the crowd was also made aware. Some of the people in the crowd were the parents of the children who had been killed, and as soon as they knew the man was the guilty one, they angrily surged forward toward the man.

Without hesitation I knew I must help the police officers protect the man. I felt no sympathy toward the man, and I didn't care what happened to him. However, I suddenly realized that there was something here that I did care about: that even for a man guilty of the worst imaginable crime, he was entitled to a trial, and he should not be given up to the mob. The principle seemed so ingrained in me, I didn't even have to think about it – I simply pushed my way toward the man to help the police protect him. Together, the police and I bodily picked the man up – I grabbed his legs – and we began carrying him towards a tent which was set up not far from where we were. We seemed to be in some kind of park-like area, and I was uncertain how long we could fend off the mob here. We would need to get the man to a building as soon as we could.


I was on the first floor of a building where I had come to see my brother Chris. Chris had been accused of some heinous crime and was being held in the building by the FBI. I was now talking to an FBI agent, who was refusing to let me see Chris. Enraged by the man's refusal, I raved, "I demand to see my brother and my client."

At first I had only been going to say that I wanted to see Chris because he was my brother. But then I added "my client," thinking that since I was an attorney, I could claim that I had a right to see Chris because I was representing him. The man immediately responded that the other FBI agents in the building weren't inclined to let me see Chris, and that they had "already stiffened" against me because they knew I was now coming as an attorney and not simply as Chris's brother.

Nevertheless, I was determined I would make it in to see Chris, and I was resolved not to leave until I visited him. I was already thinking of how we would talk when I was with him. I knew that since Chris had muscular dystrophy and could hardly move, he would be lying on his back in a bed in a room similar to a hospital room. I didn't trust the FBI and I thought they would probably have the room bugged to listen to everything we said. But I thought of a way to get around that. I would put my hand under the cover and hold Chris's hand in mine. As I imagined it, I could already feel his helpless little hand in my own. I would ask him questions and he could respond by pressing my hand in a way that I would understand.

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