Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Smoke

My office is where I’m staging this battle from. It’s all hands on deck, though our numbers are thin, there’s Serena who insisted upon coming to help, my mom, Talon, Gordon, and Evan. Evan is here more for moral support than anything else. He’s doing a good job of keeping us supplied with coffee.

It’s been twenty-four hours and I’ve come at this from every angle I can think of and still can’t figure a way out of it.

After hours of calling in favors. I somehow manage to get the prosecuting attorney to understand the futility of trying to hold eighteen men on one weapons charge. Since none of the brothers are talking, the prosecutor is reluctant to pursue charges until law enforcement comes up with any more evidence. I thank my lucky stars that we cleaned up Stan’s cabin, and the bodies are long gone. Unless something else turns up, they don’t have anything on us other than the rifle.

Evan walks in and sits a coffee from the local coffee shop on my desk. “Two expresso shots, right?” He asks.

“Yeah, that’s what it’s going to take to keep me alert after staying up all night. “Thanks, Evan. You’re a good kid.”

He just gives me a tired smile.

Serena comes running into my office. “I think I’ve found a way to get everyone out of this mess.”

I pull her down into my lap. “That would be amazing. Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Should I leave?” Evan asks.

Serena grins at him. “Heck no, you’re part of the team. Grab a seat and listen up.” Glancing over her shoulder at me, she says excitedly, “You’re going to love this.” She places a sheet of paper down on the desk. “Do you know it’s not illegal to own a firearm with the serial number filed off.”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong about that, sweetness. Every weapon bought or sold in the United States must have a serial number. That’s both state and federal law. People have tried to overturn it as unconstitutional, but so far, no go.”

“Except for the firearms you make yourself,” she states triumphantly.

“That doesn’t help, because the rifle in question was not custom built.”

“We don’t know that,” she responds mildly. “All we know is there is a rifle that appears to be standard stock but could have been pieced together from several standard stock rifles. I have reason to believe this rifle was created from scrap rifles, and the onus is on the prosecutor to prove otherwise. Normally, the sale of weapons requires proof of the transaction but that’s specifically for handguns and assault weapons. The rules are much laxer for regular hunting rifles. As all the other weapons on the premises were fully licensed with proof of purchase, why would a law-abiding MC intentionally hold an illegal weapon?”

Trying to figure out where she’s going with this, I say, “So one of our club brothers decided to build himself a rifle from junk. Why would he file the serial number off?”

“Because it would be disingenuous to leave the serial number on a rifle when only the barrel bearing the serial number was part of the new gun. Or perhaps when he obtained the parts, the serial number had already been filed off. In this scenario, according to federal law the creator would not have been legally required to apply for a new serial number unless he sold the finished product.”

I’m slowly coming round to her thinking on this issue. It’s like she’s developed legal justification that maneuvers through all the legal loopholes. “That’s really smart.”

She pauses, “There’s a slight issue with California state law, here you have ten days to affix an obtained registration number once the gun is manufactured. In theory you’re supposed to make an application prior to manufacturing the gun, but we can argue the Supremacy Clause.”

I ponder this for a moment. Where there is conflict between state law and federal law, federal law takes precedence. “Refresh my memory, what’s the jail time for this under California state law?”

“For a hunting rifle it’s a maximum sentence of six months, or a thousand dollar fine. But given the loophole, and the fact that federal law usually trumps state law, even if the charge isn’t dropped, I think we could push for a non-custodial sentence.”

This looks possible.

“Do you think it might work?” she asks breathlessly.

“I think it’s our best and only move. That, combined with the fact our other weapons are legal might be enough. The problem is, we would need someone to claim the weapon, and explain the way it came into being. I hate to put that onto any brother, especially as it could lead to jail time if we aren’t successful.”

A deep raspy voice comes from the doorway. “I’ll do it.”

“No, Talon. It’s too risky. You might wind up with a six-month stretch.”

He shrugs carelessly, “I’ll consider it vacation from my old lady.”

“Be serious, Talon,” I admonish him.

“Fucking hell, I am being serious. Have you met my freakin’ wife. It’s just been one crazy thing after another with her lately. I’d relish a break from her chaos.”

I frown, not entirely certain he understands what he’s getting himself into.

That’s when Evan speaks up. “It should be my dad who claims the weapon.”

Serena gasps.

I ask, “You trying to get rid of your old man already?”

Evan shakes his head hard enough to sling his hair out of his eyes. “No, just the opposite. My dad was the first brother. He’d do anything for this club, including go to jail, I know if he found out that someone else was taking the fall he’d be angry, he sees the welfare of the club and all the brothers as his responsibility.”

Talon speaks up, “He’s got a loving family who needs him and a new baby on the way, there’s no way I’m letting him do jail time. I’ve got a bitching wife who treats me like a goddamn ATM. It should be me.”

“It should be my dad. He’s a minister and a veteran. He’s well respected in the community, I’m sure he could even come up with a good reason why he hadn’t gotten around to sorting out registration and they’d believe him. He could say anything, and they would believe his word over every single one of the brothers. He loves to fix things, if anyone was to try and build a weapon, it would be him. Trust me on this. He’s the best choice.”

“But what about Mattie and the baby? He’s not gonna leave her in her time of need,” I protest.

Evan continues, “She has me, mom would understand. You know how she is, she’d do anything to help kids, she even put her life in danger to find me. She knows dad is the same about the club. But I know they’ll drop the charges, you know how persuasive he can be.”

The kid wasn’t wrong about this. Evan was smart and knew his old man better in the few months he’d been with him, than the rest of us did in the years we’ve known him. “Alright. I’ll schedule a private meeting with him and ask. If he gives me any pushback at all, Talon can jump in.”

“Sure thing,” Talon says.

I add, “I’d do it myself, but I’m probably better as the club’s attorney, than languishing behind bars having to rely on someone else to get me out of jail.”

“I’d get you out, babe,” Serena says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “I’m not having my baby alone, but yeah I agree, you are more use to the club out here.”

Talon’s eyes get big, and he opens his mouth as he realizes what she said. I quickly interject, “Let’s deal with our club brothers being in lock up before any other celebrations come into play.”

Evan seems oblivious to the news I’ve just shared with Talon.

I get to my feet and Serena slides off my lap. “There’s no time like the present.”

She shoves all the laws that support her case into my hands and jumps up onto her tiptoes to give me another kiss on the cheek. “Good luck, babe. I know you can do this. You’re the smartest man I know.”

I bend down and lay a proper lip lock on her and then press my forehead to hers. “This is one of many times I’m proud to have the woman I love outsmart me. Thank you for finding a solution that might work for us.”

***

I fast walk over to the county jail, which for our town is in the building adjacent to the courthouse. I ask to meet with one of my clients and am surprised at how receptive Rigs is to our plan, I guess Evan really does know his new dad well. We’re lucky enough to get the charges dropped for all the other brothers, but they stubbornly charge Rigs with one count of illegal firearms possession.

I try my luck with the prosecuting attorney one more time. After hearing our admittedly weak justification for being in possession of a hunting rifle with the serial number filed off, he seems unmoved, and I have a feeling he wants to make an example of the MC and take it all the way to the Supreme Court.

Las Salinas PD is still reeling from the fallout over Chief Popelstone. Finding out that the Chief of Police was involved in human trafficking and all the other shit the syndicate was mixed up in—especially after the scandal with the Hendersons and the former DA—means that public support for Salinas County’s judicial system has been severely damaged. Maybe, he thinks going hard on us will gain the townsfolk’s trust? But if they want to gain trust, they need to clean house first, not make an example of the Savage Legion MC. I remind him that this is a rather innocent mistake for an ordained minister and former Marine chaplain who has no prior convictions and is an upstanding member of the community. I lay it on as thick as possible, adding that he and his wife recently adopted a troubled teenager, and they also have a baby on the way, he finally decides against wasting time pursuing such a low stakes case, especially when the optics would put his department in such a bad light. Serena and Evan’s ideas pay off in the end.

I’m standing in the parking lot alongside Serena, Evan, and Mattie when Rigs walks out of the county jail. He’s practically glowing with happiness as Mattie and Evan run and throw themselves into his arms. I’m so happy for my longtime club brother and mentor, if the prosecution had refused to drop the case, then I would have spent every waking moment fighting it. That brother was one in a million.

When he manages to extricate himself from his tearful wife and happy son, he comes to me and gives me a brief hug that includes a hearty slap on the back. “Thank you for getting our club free of this mess. You’re a good brother.”

“To be honest, it was all Serena’s idea—and Evan’s idea to get you and your sterling reputation involved. I was just the front man on this case.”

He gives Serena a brilliant smile. “If Claw could see you now, he’d be so fucking proud of you, girl.” Then he turns to Evan. “Wanting rid of your old man already?” Then he winks, “You know me well. Damn straight I wouldn’t let the club suffer.”

Evan grins. “Yeah. I figured there ain’t no brother in this club they would believe, more than a minister.”

Rigs gives him another hug and then exclaims, “You deserve a reward. I’m buying you a new motorcycle once you get your license.”

Mattie lets out an indignant noise, but then just gives a resigned sigh. I guess she’s learning what comes with the territory of loving a biker. Evan’s expression turns serious. “You already gave me the best reward a person can get when you gave me a family. I don’t know if I ever thanked you properly for that, but I’m proud to have you for a dad.” His eyes drift over to Mattie, and he adds, “You’re an amazing mom, I love you both and that ain’t never gonna change.”

Mattie steps forward and stands beside Rigs, her eyes welling up as all three of them hug.

Rigs finally steps back looking almost tearful. “We should go home and have a movie night.”

Mattie looks up at him adoringly. “No can do, handsome. Everyone’s planned a hero’s welcome home celebration for you at our house.”

Evan chimes in, “You’re going to love it.”

Rigs perks up. “And there’s food too, right?”

Mattie responds happily, “Of course. We made all your favorites.”

“Good. Jailhouse food sucks. It’s bad enough that if I were a criminal, it would make me rethink my ways.”

We all chuckle as we put on our helmets and get on our bikes. Serena will ride with me. Talon has come to meet us with his truck, so he was gonna drive Rigs, Mattie, and Evan home and then do last minute party shopping with one of the prospects. The ride back to the clubhouse smelled like victory, love, and brotherhood.