Caught: Jenny

“You’re fucking delusional, bitch,” I said. I had never spoken to her like this before, so she was naturally surprised and taken back. “In fact, you’ll get your trash and get the fuck out, now.”

“What, are you going to file for divorce?” she asked. “Because if you do, it’ll be the biggest mistake of your life.”

“Really?” I asked. “Why? Are you and your fuck buddies going to make shit up about me the way you’ve done to others?”

“You have no idea what we’re capable of,” she said. “By the time we’re finished with you, you may be in jail as a wife beater and a child molester. And your career in the Reserves will be destroyed. We might even plant child porn on your computer and make it look like you had a hand in making it. You’d be amazed at what we can do with video editing software.” There it was. “Go for it, asshole.”

“So that’s your plan?” I asked. “Force me to be your cuckold by making up false crap you know is a lie?”

“Why not?” she asked. “We do it all the fucking time. I’ll leave for now, but you think about it real good. I’ll give you 48 hours to reconsider. Either go along with the program or get publicly ruined.”

“Wait,” I said, reaching for her hand.

“What?” she asked. I ripped her rings off and grabbed her keys out of her purse. “What are you doing?” she asked as I pulled off the house key. I tossed her purse back to her.

“Get the fuck out,” I said. “I’ve already packed some of your shit. Now go.” She looked at the luggage by the door then back at me.

“Come on, Mike, don’t do this,” she said.

“OUT!” I ordered. She picked up the luggage and left. I stopped the video on my phone and reviewed it to make sure I got the entire confrontation. I did. Good. I would make sure Sally saw this tomorrow.

I sent the video to my email so I would have it on my PC. From there it went to her parents, her sister and my parents. I wanted them all to see what Jenny had turned into and I didn’t want her to make me out to be the bad guy in all this.

I spent the rest of the night drinking beer and watching TV. After a somewhat sleepless night, I called into work and took a couple of vacation days. I explained what was going on to my boss and he understood completely.

“Just take care of things and get back as soon as you can,” he said.

“Thanks, boss,” I said, ending the call. After taking a shower, I dressed and headed out to see Sally, making sure I had everything I needed.

Sally impressed me with her no-nonsense attitude. She looked at everything I had and simply shook her head.

“Mike, this is unbelievable,” she said. “I’ve heard rumors about Johnson and Associates for years, but I never had anything to back it up. We’re looking at serious criminal charges here if what she’s saying is true.”

“So, can we do anything with this?” I asked.

“Well, I’ll file the divorce on the grounds of adultery and go for a 70-30 split and no support. We’ll give her the usual 30 days to respond with a demand that she produces a full financial report. In the meantime, I’ll see about getting a subpoena for her banking records. If she does try to hide the account, we can maybe bring charges of perjury against her.

“Based on what she said in the video, I’ll also get a restraining order against her that covers you, your home and your place of business,” she added.

“As for the rest, I’ll reach out to the State Bar and the local DA,” she said. “This looks like extortion to me. We’ll see what comes out of that. In the meantime, you keep your nose clean. Don’t confront her, don’t speak to her or anyone who works with her. Stay away from her. Got it?” I nodded my head.

“Got it,” I said.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll get the paperwork started and have her served in the next day or two at her work. Call me on my personal cell if you need to, but don’t abuse the privilege.” She handed me a card.

“Thanks, Sally,” I said, shaking her hand.

That day, I got three phone calls. The first was from my mother.

“Mike, I’m so sorry about all this. Are you alright?” she asked when I answered.

“I will be, Mom, thanks,” I said. “I saw an attorney today and she’s taking care of it.”

“Well, you let us know if there’s anything you need, Mike,” she said. “We love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom,” I said.

The next call came from Jenny’s parents, who apparently had a hard time understanding basic English.

“Mike, what the hell is this,” he father asked. “What did you do?”

“What did I do?” I asked, incredulous. “You mean, beside love Jenny with all my heart? Nothing. Did you hear what she said?”

“Yeah, I heard it,” her father told me. “But I can’t believe she’d do something like that without provocation. Can’t you just work through this?”

“No, Dad, I can’t,” I said. “I’ve already seen an attorney and I’m filing for divorce.”

“I’m sorry, son,” he finally said. “This just doesn’t make sense to me.” I had to agree. Nothing Jenny did made any real sense. “Just please don’t hurt my little girl.”

“I won’t,” I said, ending the call.

Her sister also called, and she was pissed.

“What the fuck is going on, Mike?” she asked angrily. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do a goddamn thing,” I said. “It’s your sister who’s gone off the deep end, not me.”

“I don’t fucking believe it,” she said. “My sister would never do something like this.”

“Believe what you want, I don’t care,” I told her. “I’m just letting you know why I’m divorcing her. You can take it up with her.” I ended the call, pissed.

I fired up my computer and brought up my email. In my inbox was a message with a subject that read, “I know what you’ve done.” I looked at the sender and saw it came from Jenny’s firm. The email looked like one of those fake messages that end up in the spam folder.

“I know what you’ve been doing and have videos of you masturbating to pictures and video of little girls,” the email said. “You have 24 hours to stop any divorce action and the files we have will be deleted when you send us a cashier’s check for $100,000.00. If you fail to do this, we will send the files to the authorities, your family, your superiors in the Marine Corps Reserve and to your place of work. If you agree to this, reply with the word, ‘Agree,’ and we will postpone any further action.”

The email had no signature. I looked at the header, but didn’t see anything that provided any clues. Then again, that wasn’t my specialty. I called Bill Frederick, the IT security guy at my company and spoke with him.

“Bill, I’ve got a favor I need to ask of you,” I said.

“Sure, Mike,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Well, it’s pretty private,” I told him. “Can you keep this quiet?”

“For you, absolutely,” he said.

“Okay, I just got an email that looks like it came from my wife’s law firm, but I can’t confirm it,” I said. Can you take a look at this and let me know what you think?”

“Sure,” he said. “Send it to me and I’ll take a look. I’ll know in just a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” I said. The call ended, I sent the email to Bill and waited for what seemed like forever. He called back about 30 minutes later.

“What’d you find?” I asked.

“Well,” he said. “It definitely came from Johnson and Associates’ network. They didn’t even bother to mask it or run it through any proxies. Talk about arrogant.”

“You can verify that?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” he said. “I can even tell you who wrote the thing.”

“Would you testify to that in court?” I asked.

“Sure, if it comes down to that,” he said.

“Thanks, I owe you big time,” I said. “I’ll let my attorney know. She may want to talk to you.”

“No problem,” he said. “Give her my number.”

We ended the call and I immediately called Sally. She answered on the second ring.

“Sally Hawkins,” she said.

“Sally, this is Mike Gregory. I just got an email that looks like blackmail,” I said. “I had our IT security guy examine it and he says it came from Johnson and Associates’ network.”

“Really?” she asked. “Okay, I’m working on your petition now and getting the restraining order. Send that email to me and the contact info for your IT guy. We’ll take care of this. Don’t respond or do anything.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

I ended the call, sent Sally what she asked for then popped open a beer. What the hell was going to happen next, I wondered.

I found out later that evening. It was about 9:30 when I got a call from Traci.

“Mike, are you watching the news?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “Why?”

“Turn on channel seven, right now,” she said. Channel seven was a local news channel and I didn’t watch it that much. I changed the channel.

“To repeat, Eyewitness News is reporting that four people were killed and four others seriously wounded this evening when a gunman entered the Lamplighter Bar and Grill and opened fire on a group of people with what police say was an AR-15 style weapon equipped with a bump stock,” the news announcer said.

“According to reports from eyewitnesses on the scene, the gunman was shot dead by another patron in the bar armed with a pistol. It’s not known what, exactly, prompted the shooting,” the announcer added. The scene changed and a reporter was talking with a man identified as a witness.

“It was wild,” the man said. “This guy came into the bar and went to a table where these people were gathered, then started yelling something about them ruining his life with their lies. He screamed something like, ‘you effers are gonna die, you destroyed me with your effing lies.’ Then he pulled out this rifle and started shooting. He got a whole bunch of rounds off before another guy shot him in the back with a pistol. Everyone was running, trying to get out.” The television went back to the news announcer.

“Names of the victims are being withheld pending notification of next-of-kin, but police say they all appear to be employed by the law firm of Johnson and Associates. The gunman has been identified as Roger Spencer, a man said to have gone through a very nasty divorce in which he was reportedly accused of child molestation. It is not known where he obtained the weapon used in the attack, but activists are already calling for additional gun control measures. Next on Eyewitness News, a man is reunited with his dog...”

“Damn,” I told Traci. There was a knock on the door. “I have to go now, Traci, someone just knocked on the door.”

“Same here,” she said. “Call me if you find anything out.”

“I will,” I said, ending the call. I put my phone away and opened the door to find two police officers.

“Mr. Gregory?” one of the officers asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you know a Jenny Gregory?” he asked me.

“Yes I do, she’s my wife, at least for the time being,” I said.

“I’m sorry to inform you, sir, but your wife has been seriously injured in a mass shooting and has been taken to Mercy Hospital,” the officer said.

“How bad is she?” I asked.

“I really don’t know, sir,” he said. “I suggest you talk to the doctor when you get there. Again, I’m sorry, sir.” They tipped their hats and left. Damn! I wanted the slimy cunt out of my life, but I didn’t want her dead.

I called Traci back. She answered on the second ring and I could hear her crying.

“Traci, this is Mike,” I said. “What happened?”

“They just told me Jeff, my husband, was shot and killed at the Lamplighter,” she said.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Traci,” I said. Damn again, I thought. I had hoped the bastard would end up being Bubba’s bitch, and I felt even worse for Traci. “Jenny was shot also. I’m heading to the hospital to find out what I can. Is there anything I can do for you?” More sniffling.

“No, but thanks for asking anyway,” she said. “Please, stay in touch and let me know what’s going on.”

“I will,” I told her. We ended the call and I headed to the hospital. The place was crawling with police and reporters with medical staff running around trying to take care of patients. I finally found someone who could give me an answer. Jenny was still undergoing surgery, I was told, but I could stay in the waiting room and someone would come get me.

Naturally, I had to fill out several sheets of information about Jenny, since she was still on my insurance from work. She had her own insurance, so I figured her treatment should be mostly covered.

So here I am at the beginning of my story, wondering if I should just say, ‘screw it’ and leave or not. I called Sally to inform her of what had happened. She said she would wait to serve Jenny until she had recovered from surgery.

I called Jenny’s parents and sister to inform them of what happened. Naturally they tried to blame me, but I told them that if I had done it I’d probably be dead and not at the hospital. They came and sat across from me in the waiting room, looking at me like I was a pile of dog crap on the ground.

I had already been to the cafeteria and wolfed down a piece of chicken and mashed potatoes and drank several cups of bitter coffee and I had sat here for several hours watching the news. I dozed off more than once while watching the television.

It was 5:00 am when a very tired doctor came to me in the waiting room.

“Mr. Gregory?” he asked. I looked at him with tired, bloodshot eyes.

“Yes?” I asked, rubbing my eyes to stay awake. Jenny’s parents and sister came over to us.

“Your wife is in critical condition right now, but she seems to be stable. We’ll know more in the next 24 hours,” he said. “We removed three bullets from her chest and another bullet grazed her face and damaged her right eye. One lung was punctured and another bullet hit her spinal column, but we feel confident she’ll survive. The next day or two is critical.”

“Is she awake?” her father asked. The doctor shook his head.

“No,” he said. “She’s still under from the anesthesia. Just so you know, it’s possible she may never walk again and may never recover full sight in her right eye without additional surgery. I’m sorry,” he added before walking away. Her father looked at me.

“So, are you still going to divorce her?” he asked. I thought for a moment before answering. One part of me thought about forgiving her, but what she had done was still too raw.

“Yes,” I said. They all looked at me in shock. “But I’ll wait until she’s in stable condition.”

“How could you be so cruel?” her mother asked.

“How could she be so cruel?” I asked.

“Where will she stay? What will she do?” Jenny’s mother asked.

“If my guess is right, that won’t be much of an issue,” I said.

“What do you mean?” her father asked. I didn’t want to speak out of turn nor did I want to give too much away.

“We’ll see,” I said. “I’m going home, but I’ll be back.” I left them standing there and went home, where I showered and fell into bed.

By the next day, news of the shooting had spread across the country. Hundreds of men came forward to say that they, too, had been targeted for extortion by the law firm for things they had never done. The stories were eerily similar -- each man had received a threat to reveal some heinous act they had never engaged in unless they paid large sums of money. As a result, many had been ruined for life.

State authorities stepped in, arresting a number of lawyers at the firm and the company was forced to cease operations. A massive class-action lawsuit was filed against the firm and the partners, seeking millions in damages on top of what the criminal courts ordered.

Three days after the shooting, I got word from the hospital that Jenny was awake and asking for me. I called Sally to inform her, and she told me a couple of men would meet me there. One of them, she said, was the process server. I called Jenny’s parents and was told one of them had been sitting with her in shifts since her surgery.

I met the process server in the hallway outside Jenny’s room and another man, who introduced himself as Detective Fulcher. We went into Jenny’s room, where she sat in bed. Her mother was in a chair by the wall. Jenny looked at all of us, questions written on her face.

“Jenny Gregory?” the process server asked. She nodded her head. He verified her identity and handed her a manila folder. “You’ve been served,” he said before stepping out of the room. Detective Fulcher stood in front of her bed. He looked down at her and shook his head.

“You do know that extortion and conspiracy to commit extortion is a felony in this state, right?” he asked. Jenny looked down and nodded her head.

“Yes,” she said weakly, her voice cracking.

“And you also know that in this state, the penalty for each act of extortion is punishable by up to 15 years in prison and a $10,000.00 fine, right?” he asked. Again, Jenny nodded her head. He handed her a printed copy of the email I received.

“Does this look familiar?” he asked. She looked defeated. “It should. It was composed and sent from your computer under your logon name. Along with about 75 others. We found them all in your sent items folder. I’m no scientist, but my math tells me that 76 times 15 years is about 1140 years. And you’re looking at about a $760,000 fine. In short, you’re screwed. You know I’m going to have to arrest you. The DA is pushing for a life sentence with all the counts against you, but if you work with us, maybe I can get him to cut you a deal. What do you say?” Jenny nodded her head again.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll leave you alone with your husband and family for a few minutes, but I’ll be back.” Detective Fulcher looked at me for a moment, put his hand on my shoulder and walked out of the room. I looked down at my soon-to-be ex-wife. Tears started falling down her cheek.

“How could you do this to me?” I asked. “I’ve done nothing but love you and respect you. I thought you loved me as well. What the fuck happened?”

“I’m sorry,” she said through her tears. Her mother grabbed the email and read it, her eyes wide in shock.

“My God,” she said, looking at her daughter. “You actually wrote this? To your own husband?” Jenny was crying even harder. “How could you?” I looked at her mother.

“How do you think Johnson and Associates became so successful?” I asked her, rhetorically. “They did this to a whole bunch of guys looking for a quick buck. That’s why that guy went and shot them all. And I’ve got her on video admitting that they did this all the time.”

“No wonder you want to divorce her,” she said, looking at me. “I don’t blame you one bit.”

“That, on top of her adultery,” I said. “There’s no way I want her back. Ever.” I looked back at Jenny. “You never answered my question.” She looked at me, defeated.

“I got wrapped up in the excitement and the power, I guess,” she said. “As for the letters, well, I was just doing what the lawyers wanted. I hated doing it. And I wasn’t the only one. All the paralegals did it as well. Please believe me.” I shook my head.

“‘I was only following orders.’ Sorry, but that old excuse just doesn’t cut it. At all,” I said. “The snide comments, the disrespect, the cheating. No, you loved it. You got off on putting me down. I saw the glee on your face when you told me you do it all the time. I saw how much you loved putting me down when you were getting fucked by that asshole. Oh, he’s dead, by the way. Nah, you just plain fucked up and it almost cost your life. It sure as hell cost you your marriage. I hope it was worth it to you.”

“Can you forgive me?” she asked. I shook my head.

“No,” I said. “Never. I’m just glad we didn’t have any kids. By the way, when you fill out that financial statement, don’t forget to include your secret account. You know, the one you set up to hide money from me. I’d hate to see you add perjury to your list of crimes.” She looked at me, her eyes wide.

“You know about that?” she asked. I nodded my head.

“Of course,” I said. “Who do you think did the year-end books and audit for your firm? You think you’ve got problems? That’s nothing compared to what we found over the last year. Believe me, the feds are gonna have fun with your senior partners.” I looked at Jenny one last time. “Goodbye, Jenny,” I said. “I loved you, once.” I walked out as Detective Fulcher entered with two uniformed officers. Jenny was handcuffed to the bed as her mother watched in tears.