Free Criminal That I Am by Jennifer Ridha Page A

impossible. And so when Cameron pleads guilty before the magistrate judge—the presiding trial judge is tied up in a terrorism trial—we also submit papers asking that he be granted bail.
    The circumstances of Cameron’s plea make it an ideal time to ask for bail. Because he has pleaded guilty before the magistrate judge but not yet appeared before his trial judge, his plea is not considered “official.” This could make all the difference, as there are different legal standards for bail depending on whether or not the defendant has givenan official plea. As one might expect, it is easier for a defendant to receive bail before he officially admits to committing a crime—that is, pre-plea—than it is post-plea.
    The magistrate judge orders a bail hearing. Sensitive to Cameron’s status as a cooperator, he agrees to hold it in a closed courtroom, away from the bustle of the magistrate’s court.
    But on this day the case takes a turn.
    After hearing arguments from both sides, the magistrate judge agrees that Cameron should be awarded bail in order to undergo drug treatment. He also goes so far as to set the conditions of Cameron’s release, including a $1 million bail bond to be signed by both of his ­parents. But there’s a significant catch: because a bail decision might be different under the post-plea standard, and because Cameron is really only pre-plea as a technical matter, the magistrate judge freezes the bail order until the trial judge has a chance to weigh in on the matter. In the meantime, because of Cameron’s status as a cooperator, the judge orders that all of the proceedings and paperwork in the matter be sealed from public view.
    It is a pyrrhic victory. Cameron is no closer to going home, and yet we have to concern ourselves with the minutiae of his bail paperwork. He flashes me a defeated look as a U.S. Marshal escorts him from the courtroom to the inmate holding area.
    I begrudgingly assist Co-Counsel, an attorney from Cameron’s original legal team, with pulling together information for Cameron’s bail bond and ensuring it is placed under seal. Cameron Douglas’s mother, who is present at the hearing, signs the bond and goes home. But this is not enough: Cameron Douglas’s father must sign it, too.
    In the four months that I have been on the case, I haven’t had much occasion to communicate with Cameron Douglas’s father. He receives regular telephone updates on the case from the legal team, and I participate in these if I am asked to. But this will be the first time I will meet him in person.
    Any other day, I would be curious to meet the man whose sink sex scene haunted my preadolescent mind. But I’m drained by the day’s events and disappointed in the outcome. I would much rather go home, throw myself under the covers, and put off meeting him to another day.
    Co-Counsel and I wait for his arrival at one end of the courthouse. When he enters, he is dressed in black skinny jeans and a black leather jacket, appropriate attire for a man who once starred in sexy films, but odd to me in terms of “dad” clothing. In sizing up the ensemble, I can’t help but think of my own father, who tends to favor muted wool sweaters and thick corduroy pants. I try to picture my dad in a similar get-up and bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
    Cameron Douglas’s father is not one for remaining under the radar. He walks with purposeful strides and greets every person he encounters, each of whom are outwardly excited by the recognition. As I look on, I wonder what it’s like to affect someone by simply saying hello. It appears exhausting. But after I watch for a while, I notice that the relationship might be symbiotic: just as the strangers are touched, Cameron Douglas’s father seems touched that they are touched. Perhaps in the end, like everyone else, Cameron Douglas’s father just wants to be