Martin hailed a cab, which turned out to be a police car. The rest of the evening--or rather morning since the police report cited 2:15 am as the time Martin had been taken into custody--was spent entertaining law enforcement while waiting for his attorney to appear. When the man finally showed up, it wasn't the one Martin had been expecting. Instead, it was an attorney he'd met only once in order to finalize Martin's purchase of a racehorse that died a week later.
“Don't say anything to anyone,” the attorney told Martin.
“What do you mean?” Martin wanted to know.
“What do you mean what do I mean?”
“What about my car?” Martin asked him.
“That's exactly what I'm talking about. You're going to need a good criminal firm. There's one in particular that I can recommend.”
“Why would I be in need of a criminal just to report my car stolen?” Both men chose to ignore the mistake.
“Please allow me to advise you against trying to formulate a defense at this stage without the help an attorney.”
Martin wanted to extract a fuller explanation but the man was gone. So, too, was Martin as the police escorted him from the building. Bail had been arranged.
The sergeant waved him off. “Have a nice day, Senator.”
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