It is a little after 8 am when we walk into the federal courthouse. Jordon appears to know one of the security guards at the front desk. He fists bumps one of them. I start to empty my pockets and soon Jordon follows suit. We go through the metal detector and gather our belongs. Deputy Wayne is waiting for us, just beyond the security desk.
“Glad to see you.” He states. He reaches out to shake my hand then Jordon’s.
“I am glad you volunteered you space.” Jordon tells him.
“It is just this way.” Deputy Wayne leads us to a door with a small plaque that only reads US Marshals.
The room looks like a tiny doctor’s waiting room. There is a couple of chairs and the beige walls are adorned with the Top Ten Most Wanted posters and other Marshal art. The area even has a reception desk, except
