a compact flipbook along with those of the rest of my family. One each. I had to keep it light. None of my family members had any idea I lived in the air. Only Flo knew that secret, and never pressed me on why it needed to be kept.
PART VI
THE BOMB THREATS
Preliminary Accident Report, cont.
WorldAir flight 1021, April 1, 2013
Present at transcript:
April May Manning, unaccompanied minor
Detective Jolette Henry, Albuquerque Police Department
Investigator Peter DeAngelo, NTSB
Investigator Anthony Kowalski, FBI
Investigator Peter DeAngelo, NTSB:
April, Agent Kowalski of the FBI has arrived and he has some questions for you as well.
April Manning:
I spoke to him on the phone!
DeAngelo:
Exactly. Here he is now. I’m leaving for a bit to get a cup of coffee and let him take over for a while. Can I get you anything?
April Manning:
Yes, please. A Gatorade and a blanket, please.
DeAngelo:
Fine. Agent Kowalski, maybe you can help her get around to describing how she committed the federal crime of breaching the cockpit of an operational aircraft.
Investigator Anthony Kowalski, FBI:
April Manning, I take it?
April Manning:
Nice to meet you—
Kowalski:
Yeah, right. Listen, the first thing I want to know from you, young lady, is this: How the hell did you manage to throw a dead man off an aircraft
during flight
?
April Manning:
I should start with the bomb threats.
Kowalski:
That would be good.
April Manning:
When Ash first won custody of me, it was Malcolm’s suggestion that I write a letter to Judge Cheevers threatening to bomb a plane.
“Since your stepdad is now your primary physical custodian,” he said, “he is responsible for everything you do now. Before, when your mother had custody, you never threatened to bomb things, right?”
“Right.”
“So this would be a new development in your behavior. It would constitute a ‘change in circumstance,’ so when you go back to court and get a real guardian ad litem this time, as opposed to some sucking bottom fish, you can reverse everything.”
“Genius,” I told him.
“Thank you,” he said.
Another genius thing about Malcolm is that he finagled Captain Beefheart, real-live “emotional support” dog, out of his parents during the divorce. It was his guardian ad litem’s suggestion, and the only thing she did for him that seemed to put his welfare at a precedent. Now Malcolm has official papers and can bring Beefheart on board every flight, and he doesn’t even have to keep him in his carrier. Not once has Beefheart ever pooped on the plane, that I know of. There was that unfortunate time when he peed in the aisle, though.
Malcolm acted like this was just pulling the wool over his parents’ eyes, but I could see how the dog really helped him with the perpetual transition from coast to coast. Beefheart was the most constant thing in Malcolm’s life. He was pretty constant in my life, too, come to think of it.
And Captain Beefheart is not some pedigree puffball, like you’d expect from someone as rich as Malcolm. Instead, the dog is a Dumpster mutt with a half-chewed-off ear that looks like a baby crocodile covered in fur. In reality, Beefheart is a corgi/pit bull muttigree mix. He was found by a trash man who heard a puppy yelping inside the truck compactor. He dug it out and dropped it off at a rescue organization in Georgia called Angels Among Us.
Beefheart was then trained in an experimental program instigated by the Fulton County Penitentiary that used prison inmates to train the animals, which included all kinds of creatures like spider monkeys and even miniature horses. Malcolm qualified for a support animal about six months ago, owing to the amount of time he’d flown as an unaccompanied minor.
“All I had to do was tell the court-ordered co-parenting counselor I cried a lot on the airplane (Malcolm never cried that I saw), and
boom!
, instant prescription for Captain Beefheart.”
The prisoners get to name the pets they
PART VI
THE BOMB THREATS
Preliminary Accident Report, cont.
WorldAir flight 1021, April 1, 2013
Present at transcript:
April May Manning, unaccompanied minor
Detective Jolette Henry, Albuquerque Police Department
Investigator Peter DeAngelo, NTSB
Investigator Anthony Kowalski, FBI
Investigator Peter DeAngelo, NTSB:
April, Agent Kowalski of the FBI has arrived and he has some questions for you as well.
April Manning:
I spoke to him on the phone!
DeAngelo:
Exactly. Here he is now. I’m leaving for a bit to get a cup of coffee and let him take over for a while. Can I get you anything?
April Manning:
Yes, please. A Gatorade and a blanket, please.
DeAngelo:
Fine. Agent Kowalski, maybe you can help her get around to describing how she committed the federal crime of breaching the cockpit of an operational aircraft.
Investigator Anthony Kowalski, FBI:
April Manning, I take it?
April Manning:
Nice to meet you—
Kowalski:
Yeah, right. Listen, the first thing I want to know from you, young lady, is this: How the hell did you manage to throw a dead man off an aircraft
during flight
?
April Manning:
I should start with the bomb threats.
Kowalski:
That would be good.
April Manning:
When Ash first won custody of me, it was Malcolm’s suggestion that I write a letter to Judge Cheevers threatening to bomb a plane.
“Since your stepdad is now your primary physical custodian,” he said, “he is responsible for everything you do now. Before, when your mother had custody, you never threatened to bomb things, right?”
“Right.”
“So this would be a new development in your behavior. It would constitute a ‘change in circumstance,’ so when you go back to court and get a real guardian ad litem this time, as opposed to some sucking bottom fish, you can reverse everything.”
“Genius,” I told him.
“Thank you,” he said.
Another genius thing about Malcolm is that he finagled Captain Beefheart, real-live “emotional support” dog, out of his parents during the divorce. It was his guardian ad litem’s suggestion, and the only thing she did for him that seemed to put his welfare at a precedent. Now Malcolm has official papers and can bring Beefheart on board every flight, and he doesn’t even have to keep him in his carrier. Not once has Beefheart ever pooped on the plane, that I know of. There was that unfortunate time when he peed in the aisle, though.
Malcolm acted like this was just pulling the wool over his parents’ eyes, but I could see how the dog really helped him with the perpetual transition from coast to coast. Beefheart was the most constant thing in Malcolm’s life. He was pretty constant in my life, too, come to think of it.
And Captain Beefheart is not some pedigree puffball, like you’d expect from someone as rich as Malcolm. Instead, the dog is a Dumpster mutt with a half-chewed-off ear that looks like a baby crocodile covered in fur. In reality, Beefheart is a corgi/pit bull muttigree mix. He was found by a trash man who heard a puppy yelping inside the truck compactor. He dug it out and dropped it off at a rescue organization in Georgia called Angels Among Us.
Beefheart was then trained in an experimental program instigated by the Fulton County Penitentiary that used prison inmates to train the animals, which included all kinds of creatures like spider monkeys and even miniature horses. Malcolm qualified for a support animal about six months ago, owing to the amount of time he’d flown as an unaccompanied minor.
“All I had to do was tell the court-ordered co-parenting counselor I cried a lot on the airplane (Malcolm never cried that I saw), and
boom!
, instant prescription for Captain Beefheart.”
The prisoners get to name the pets they
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