Señor Bovio nodded at Mrs. Newell, and she leaned in.
“You’ll only hurt him if you resist,” she warned. “Let him go now.”
As if he could sense what was happening, Adan Jr. began to cry. I thought my lungs would explode. Sobbing hard myself, I kissed him on the forehead before she took him from my arms and backed out of the car. Simultaneously, the policeman at Edward’s door opened it and reached in to pull him out of the car. Señor Bovio came around the automobile.
“You can’t even begin to imagine the trouble you have made for yourself and for her,” Señor Bovio told him.
Another policeman ordered me out of the car as well. We were both handcuffed and put into the rear of a police car. I sat watching Señor Bovio and Mrs. Newell carrying Adan Jr. as they headed down the street to another automobile. Adan Jr. was still crying, but she didn’t do anything to comfort him. I could do nothing. I could do nothing for myself, and it might even go harder for Edward, I thought, recalling that he had been prohibited from reentering Mexico.
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me,” Edward told me before I could utter a word.
We were driven away, but to my surprise, we were not taken to a jail in Puerto Vallarta. Instead, we were driven to the airport, where we were turned over to a U.S. marshal. He had different sets of handcuffs to place on us.
“You two are lucky,” he said. “You’re not going to be held here and tried here.”
But before either of us could breathe easier, he added, “You’re being returned to the U.S., where you will be held and tried for kidnapping.”
“It’s her baby,” Edward told him. “How can she be tried for kidnapping her own baby?”
He shrugged. “Hey,” he said, “I’m just the delivery-man. Tell it to the judge and jury.”
We were led to a plane and boarded, and soon after, we were on our way to the States. It had all happened so quickly I thought I was stuck in a dream, but that hope died as quickly as it had come.
Hours later, we were handed over to two FBI agents at the Los Angeles airport and then taken to federal court, where we were to be arraigned. Neither of us expected that Tía Isabela would do anything to help us, but we were surprised again when we arrived at the court and found Mr. Simon waiting. Tía Isabela had called him and asked him to be there.
“I might make enough off you two and not need any more clients,” he joked.
Neither of us was in the mood for any humor. Maybe it wasn’t so much a joke as a comment by someone quite astounded by all of these events himself, no matter how experienced he was and what he had already seen in his legal life. He explained how Tía Isabela had called him as soon as she was informed that we had been located and arrested. She immediately offered to put up the bail for us.
“First, I have to get the judge to agree to grant you bail before you are formally arraigned and charged. Your mother is on her way here to be present at this hearing,” Mr. Simon said. “She gave me some helpful information, which I have given to the district attorney so he wouldn’t oppose the granting of bail.”
“My mother? What information?” Edward asked.
“Information relating to the custody agreement Delia signed. As you know, I’m familiar with that document. I gave you my best opinion on it before all of this occurred, but she’s added some information that might have significant weight.”
“What information, Mr. Simon?” Edward asked again.
“Information that might lead to the conclusion that Delia was coerced into signing,” he said. “I don’t want to say too much and get anyone’s hopes too high. Let’s take it a step at a time.”
We didn’t see Tía Isabela until we entered the courtroom. Of course, she looked as if she could set the place on fire with her blazing eyes. Before she could say a word to him as we were led to the front of the courtroom, Edward muttered, “Don’t start, Mother.”
She pulled her shoulders up and, with a face cut in stone, focused on the judge. Mr. Simon walked over to the district attorney and spoke quietly. We were taken to a table and told to sit and wait. The judge, a man who looked well into his seventies, was talking softly with the court clerk. Everyone around us seemed to be involved with private conversations. Edward shrugged and looked at me. I had never been in a courtroom, so I didn’t know what was happening. I was too numb to feel anything or say anything.
After a while, we saw the district attorney and Mr. Simon approach the judge. Their conversation took quite a long time. Finally, everyone returned to his seat. The judge rapped his gavel.
“Since the events of this proceeding are dependent upon a motion being made in family court,” he said, “I will postpone the arraignment of Edward Dallas and Delia Yebarra until a determination is made by the family court. However, since evidence supporting the possibility of a flight risk is strong, I am assigning bail of one hundred fifty thousand dollars each. I understand that you will provide this bail, Mrs. Dallas?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Tía Isabela said.
I looked at Edward, but he didn’t flinch. In fact, he looked annoyed at his mother for coming to our aid.
Less than an hour later, Mr. Simon led us out of the courtroom to Tía Isabela’s limousine. Edward hesitated, but his mother came down the steps behind us and sharply ordered us into the car.
“Where are we going?” he asked, still defiant and unappreciative.
“To the Bovio estate,” she said.