Chapter 14: Warrants

The tribal leaders had indeed consulted their attorney, who had been following the increasingly hostile developments toward anyone associated with the Masi'shen. He was especially troubled by reports of people being picked up to disappear into the federal system. Rumors that some were seen being delivered into the Guantanamo Bay detention camp had him totally apprehensive. When asked if they should stand firm at their headquarters to legally confront any federal agents, he replied in the negative.

"No. I don't think that is a viable option. They don't seem to be respecting any legal restraints or protections, from the instances I've heard reported. Word has been spreading around the legal community. The marshals and agents are not using arrest warrants based on plausible suspicion of a violation of law. They're reported to be using material witness warrants, which means they can hold a so-called witness for an indeterminate time. This law was severely abused during the previous administration, by the Attorney General. He got away with it. Lawsuits against him were quashed.

"The precedent has been established. You can be taken, held indefinitely, and you have no means of appeal. In practical terms, they will take you to an undisclosed location, refuse to answer any questions concerning your status, and if needed they will take you out of the country where U.S. law does not apply. Your citizenship is immaterial; your Native American sovereignty is no protection. Government security claims override all concerns. They do it because they can.

"Therefore, as your attorney, I am forced to say not only 'No', but 'Hell, No!' If you've got some place to go, and you can get lost, do it. Lock things up and go make yourselves scarce. Stay away at least until we have a better idea of what's happening, and where all of this is likely to go.

"I'll stay here and tend to my practice. You're not my only clients, and there is no plausible reason for them to bother or harass me. If they refuse to honor the rule of client-attorney privilege, then we've fallen too far to matter anyway. Don't tell me where you're going, or who's going, or anything else. I can't tell them what I don't know. All your legal records are under lock and key and I'll not willingly release anything to them. Just get yourself out of town, the sooner the better!

"I've noticed a definite absence of people around the area over the last few days. I'm assuming everyone is going where the climate is a bit more hospitable. I'll keep an eye on things, and I'll mention to the Sheriff that he might want to have a deputy or two make extra patrols, just to discourage anyone from taking advantage of empty houses. Other than that, gentlemen, have yourselves a pleasant trip. I hear the fishing is good this year!"

The entrance door to the Tribal headquarters building was locked. A hand-printed notice taped inside the door's window said: 'Closed to Attend Pow-Wow.' Agent Jones turned to Agent Smith and said,

"Check around back. Try all the doors and windows. Look inside; try to spot any movement or signs of activity."

Smith nodded and worked his way around to the back, checking each window. Shades were tightly pulled, the louvered blinds closed—and he saw nothing. The back door was locked. Two vehicles parked in the rear had Tribal ID stickers in their windows and official decals on their doors. He jotted down the license plate numbers. Working his way up the other side, he found the same situation: all windows locked, shades drawn tight. It wasn't possible to see into the building from any location along the outside.

"Nothing. I got plates on two vehicles out back."

"No answer to their telephones. I could hear one ringing inside. Nothing on their answering machine—it doesn't pick up," Jones answered. "Okay, time to start chasing them down. Let's go find that Indian agent at the BIA." (Bureau of Indian Affairs, Department of Interior, a Federal agency).

A short while later, Jones and Smith presented their Department of Homeland Security ID folders to the agent. He invited them to sit in chairs facing his small desk.

"How can I help you distinguished gentlemen, today?" Agent Daryl Thompson inquired, leaning back in his swivel chair.

"We've been to the Tribal headquarters. Nobody's there. The place is locked up tight, with a notice taped in the window saying 'gone to a pow-wow.'

We've got a warrant to pull the tribal leaders in for questioning. Where the hell are they, and what the hell is a pow-wow?" Jones demanded.

"Well, a pow-wow is their term for an important meeting or gathering. I suspect you already knew that if you've read anything about cowboys and Indians," Thompson answered softly in a slight western drawl. "As for where that pow-wow might be, all I can say is we heard a rumor in the community that most everybody was going to a gathering in Idaho, somewhere near the big lakes in the panhandle. If the tribal leaders aren't here, and the building is locked up, then I'd assume that it's pretty much like the notice in the window said: 'gone to a pow-wow.' Anything else I can help you fine gentlemen with, today?"

Jones glared at Thompson. He wasn't sure how to handle the Indian agent's obviously unhelpful attitude.

"I'll remind you that a Department of Homeland Security warrant is a serious matter. Failure to cooperate won't look good on a report to your supervisor. Are you sure you don't have more specific information concerning the whereabouts of the individuals we're looking for? Perhaps you should reconsider for a moment the implications for national security, and your role as an agent of the government?"

Thompson slowly leaned forward in his chair to sit attentively upright. He glanced to Smith, who hadn't said anything, and looked back to Jones, noting the flush of impatience and anger in the man's face.

"Nope. I surely don't have more to reconsider. You see, I've been here for more than a few years, and I've worked with these people. It took me a long time, but I like to think I've earned a bit of respect from them, and I surely have come to respect them. So if they've said they're going to a pow-wow, and the word around the community has it that it's in the Idaho panhandle, I'd be inclined to accept that.