PORTLAND, Ore. — As Chauncey Billups was being escorted out of the federal magistrate courtroom in Portland on Thursday, he locked eyes with his wife, Piper. The image haunts me.
She was sitting on a long wooden bench, wedged into the last seat at the end, positioning her before the door that would eventually lead her husband out of the courtroom. I was seated behind her, one seat to her right. One of their daughters, Cydney, was three seats to my right.
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After a judge granted Billups his temporary release following two indictments of money laundering and wire fraud, he stood and walked 10 feet to the door, passing in front of Piper in the process.
In his eyes, there was nothing. He was hollow, emotionless, void. She was stoic, lips pursed, head high, just as emotionless.
The scene chilled me, and I’ve been trying to process why.
I supposed an element of my reaction was the realization that this was suddenly a family that is broken and rocked.
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