Michael Erickson woke up before the officers came to collect him.
For a few seconds, he remained on the narrow bed, looking at the ceiling of the holding area. He had slept badly, waking several times during the night, and his body felt stiff from spending so many hours in the same position. The room was quiet apart from the sounds coming from the corridor, where officers were beginning their morning duties.
Today was the day of his hearing.
He had known it was coming, and his lawyer had explained what to expect, but the thought of appearing in court had stayed with him throughout the night. He had spent years making decisions that affected other people's lives, usually from the comfort of his office, with lawyers and executives available whenever he needed them. Now he was waiting for officers to tell him when he could stand, where he could go, and what would happen next.
