Joe B. Trade

"Okay, I was getting there. Joe is Annabelle's father in every way except being her sperm donor. That's why I was elated to be pregnant again, this time with Joe's baby. Ricardo convinced me, he told me...it would be the end of me... of my family. He said the inferior child would be so different from Annabelle, everyone would notice right off.

"I dismissed all of that for a while, but he kept saying things...awful things, and I... I guess I started to believe them. He convinced me that the best thing would be to abort Joe's baby, and then get me pregnant again himself. He said Joe would be happy.

"I let him take me to that clinic...but I couldn't go through with it. I just couldn't! The guilt and shame were already too much. Ricardo and Doctor Meacham kept trying to convince me. I knew what Ricardo wanted, but I think the Doctor wanted her money. She was all set up to do the procedure after hours. Ricardo paid extra for that, or was going to. She was relentless, and furious with me. Finally, I ran out the door, and when I got across the street, called an Uber. I ducked into the gas station restroom and locked the door until the driver texted he'd arrived."

"What happened after you arrived home, to your family?" Wilkins asked.

"I was under so much stress the next two days. I felt horrible, and sick from the pregnancy. I knew Ricardo was going to keep on me and on me. I guess the stress became too much on the third day, because that's when I miscarried."

"We're all sorry for your loss, I'm sure, Mrs. Trade," defense council stated. "One final question, please? Please remember, you are under oath. Do you know of any reason why Dr. Meacham's testimony would vary so greatly from you own?"

"No. I can't imagine." Becky stated without emotion.

Joe watched with bated breath as his soon-to-be-ex-wife gave the performance of her life. Indeed, her life truly depended on it. Joe turned slightly and looked over his left shoulder. There, in the middle seat, of the middle row, sat Ivan. Joe had to admire the gall. The brutish man had dressed down, though, into what looked like a Kohl's sports coat, and he'd trimmed his beard to look more 'American.' There were only four people in the room that knew who he was, regardless.

The fourth was Lester Wilkins. He'd become a mole for the Russians and Rigorsky only months after the Lafatas' had arrived in town. Having his own private investigators made things easier and more legitimate as he'd followed Sophia's dealings and reported them back to Ivan. Lester may have appeared to be a wholesome, trustworthy Idahoan man, but he liked money as much as anyone else. The arrest of Joe B Trade had helped seal the Lafata's fate.

Ivan Rigorsky and his associates had worked out a deal with the Sicilians in Las Vegas. Sophia and Becky would be flying there, as soon as the separation papers were filed. They'd be working off the family debt, mostly on their backs, but at least they'd be with their own people.

Anna B, of course, would be living with Joe. Sin City was no place for an innocent little girl, after all. The only formality that remained was Joe and his friends being found not guilty.

Doctor Helen was next up. She'd been a bold one. Fucking feminist, Joe thought. Her testimony had been squarely contradicted by Becky, and the police hadn't found a shred of physical evidence to corroborate it. Unless she could pull a rabbit out of her hat, Joe, Mikey and Burt would walk. A not guilty verdict for Joe even opened the door to a civil suit against her for defamation. She and the clinic would be in hot water for the attempted procedure off the books and after hours. At a bare minimum, she'd never work in her field again.

Although Joe's case would never make it all the way to the Supreme Court, he'd gotten his pound of flesh. It was actually about 3 ounces of flesh, but who's counting?