A text snippet from the ending of one chapter in the section called “31 Days Hath September”…
Toward the end of September the puppies eyes were about to open and they were all nursing well and growing normally. It had been a very difficult month for the Ford family as they each dealt with the two assassination attempts in their own way. Germaine and I felt it was probably time for us to head back to our home in Virginia so the First Family could have their evenings together without the burden of company in the Residence every night. If needed, we could drive back to the White House from our home in Dale City in about 45 minutes, except during peak traffic times.
We settled on Wednesday the 24th as the day we would head home. That would be our 28th day of living in the White House Residence…an experience neither of us will ever forget. As I went over the final instructions with Mrs. Ford and Susan in the early evening, a line of very strong thunderstorms was moving into the northern Virginia and DC area. By the time we drove out through the southwest gate and turned onto Constitution Avenue it was pouring down rain.
We timed leaving the White House as to avoid the worst of the evening traffic and arrived home around 8:30 that night. High on my list of priorities for the next few days was getting the repair work done on my 240Z…front end damage from the “Liberty-caused” accident we were involved in just a few weeks before moving in with the Ford’s.
After parking in our driveway (the attached one-car garage had been converted into an office / laundry room before we purchased our house) we grabbed our suitcases and ran through the downpour and in through the front door. Once inside we both agreed…it was really nice to be home. That was about to abruptly change…
We had been home for less than five minutes when there was a very firm knocking at the front door. I opened the door to find a deputy sheriff, in a long yellow slicker, standing in the rain. I asked him if he wouldn’t like to step inside but he declined…remaining out there in the deluge.
“Are you William Brockett”, he asked.
“I am”, I replied.
Now my heart and mind were racing in anticipation and fear of some really terrible news. Why else would this deputy be standing at our front door at this time of night and in this kind of weather?
“William Ralph Brockett”, he inquired.
“Yes, sir”, I responded.
“I have a warrant for your arrest”…