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to my room while I
had stepped out for a minute to use the latrine.   When I came back, I saw the routing
envelope leaning against my door.   I
opened it and found the note that you have in the honor investigation
file.”   Jackson motioned to the
thick manila folder in front of Conrad.
    The Honor Board chairman opened the thick file of papers, pulled out a
clump attached with a paperclip, and distributed one to each cadet.   Major Hastings, Jan’s JAG counsel, also
opened a binder and handed Jan a copy of the same paper: Exhibit A.
    “Is this what you found in the routing envelope at that time?”   Conrad asked Jackson while holding up
the piece of paper.
    “Yes, it is, ”   Jackson said.
    Jan looked at the copy in front of her, the same one in front of the
jury of her peers.   The plain sheet
of paper, eight and a half by eleven inches, contained a concise message in
big, bold letters:

 
    Quit fucking with Wishart , Assholes!   If either of you messes with her again, neither of you will walk, on
your own accord, across the stage on graduation day.
    Signed,
    Someone you don’t want to mess
with!

 
    Conrad cleared his throat.   A few of the other jurists fidgeted in their chairs.   Jan saw smirks and grins.   Apparently they found Exhibit A amusing.
    “Continue, Cadet Jackson.   What happened next?”   
    “Well, I was furious.   I
figured Wishart opened the routing envelope and took
the messages between Cadet Dogety and me.   I thought she had also written this note
to intimidate us,” Jackson said.
    “Wouldn’t that be a bit bold for a plebe, Cadet Jackson?”   Tourney asked.
    “Well, normally yes,” Jackson replied.    “But we have known Miss Wishart since R-Day.   We have seen her insubordination on many occasions.   It didn’t seem unreasonable to me that
she could have written this kind of thing.”
    Jan rolled her eyes again.   Right,
as if I needed any more attention from you!
    “So you asked her about it?”   Leavitt asked this time.
    “I took the envelope and its contents back to Cadet Dogety first.   He and I then went to her
room and ordered her to meet us in the CQ room.”  
    The Charge of Quarters (CQ) room, usually located near the entrance to
each Company area, contained only a small desk and black rotary dial
phone.   One yearling, or sophomore,
assigned to CQ duty every night, monitored the halls, checked cadet rooms every
couple of hours, inspected and secured all common areas, and made a bed count
at Taps—ensuring all cadets were in their rooms.   When not going about their duties,
yearling CQs sat at the desk in the small CQ room reading, studying or writing
letters home.   The black rotary
phone was only used to communicate with the Brigade Charge of Quarters, usually
a cow or junior year cadet, who ensured all the Company CQs were doing their
jobs.
    “Why there?”   Conrad asked.
    “Because the CQ room is not off limits to anyone.   We figured we could question her there
without violating any regulations,” Jackson said.
    And you could also close the door
in a room without windows.

 
    Conrad checked his watch.   “We only have half an hour left before
we need to break for dinner.   I’m
going to ask Cadet Jackson to tell us what happened in the CQ room before we
break.   There’s not enough time for
questions, so please write down any that come to mind, and we will deal with
them when we resume later tonight.”
    Cadet Seymour, the Fourth Regimental
Honor Captain spoke up.   “Casey, I
would prefer to ask questions as we hear the witness testify.   Should we wait until after dinner before
Markus continues?”  
    “Well, we need to get as much done as
we can.   If a question cannot wait
until later, then of course, ask it.   Otherwise, let’s allow Cadet Jackson to speak uninterrupted.”   Conrad nodded to Jackson.   “Markus, please continue.”
    Jackson took another deep breath and
resumed his testimony.   “Sam and