SWIB 01: We Need to Talk

"Absolutely not. I was with two attorneys, conducting business."

"Do you care to state the nature of that business?"

"I am afraid I am not at liberty to state that."

"We will follow-up with these attorneys."

"That is fine with me. Everything I have told you or will tell you is the absolute truth. I have nothing to hide."

"Well, you told me your phone was here, it isn't. You told me you were conducting business, but not at liberty to disclose what business. So far your honesty is a bit underwhelming."

His partner appeared at the front door. He looked to assure I had not freed myself from my cuffs and went inside. He was not gone long. "We are taking you downtown for booking."

"Might I ask the charge?"

"Domestic disturbance and assault."

He read me my rights, my frigging rights! They took me to some building, finger-printed and photographed me, and threw me in a cell. They did allow me to call "Ben and Nancy". I got no answer, left a message, and was told that was my limit.

I was in some sort of a holding cell for a day and a half. I was offered food three times, accepted it once. I slept little and was pleased to hear my name called. I walked to the door and was escorted to a smiling Sally.

"Have you been harmed in any way?"

No, no, I am fine."

"Come with me."

She was all business. We walked at just less than a sprint and made our way to an office. She barged in, the police officer looked at her and was clearly unhappy. "Don't you knock?"

"Don't you dare fuck with me because I am a woman. I am here to file both criminal complaints and to notify you my client will be suing the city for three million dollars. I want both arresting officers suspended, without pay. They are abusive, reckless, clueless, and generally a hazard to polite society."

"Ms. Joyette, if I may..."

"You may fucking not."

She turned to me and sweetly asked me to take a seat. She got some forms and filled them out. A couple of times she asked me to sign. I did. When we left, I started to ask what was going on. She held up a hand and I took that as my clue to be quiet and follow her. Many say hearing, 'we need to talk' led to their worst days. Those folks had nothing on me. Something had changed. She had gone from reluctant participant to zealous enemy.

Back with my attorney friends

I was back at the residence of my friends. In history I don't know if anyone fared worse than I, in my first encounter. She told me we needed to talk, then, other than foundless accusations, refused to talk. If this was what my life is to be, I wasn't sure I would endure it.

"Bob, you may not feel like it, but we got a huge break."

"Well," I could tell Sally was fired up, but frankly, "if that was a win, I don't look forward to a loss."

Ed continued, "You should not have been arrested. My guess is one or both arresting officers know Dickie or know of Junior and were trying to get in their good graces. Instead, they made a huge blunder. The whole thing smelled bad to the desk sergeant, and he called me about the missing phone. He got a warrant and found it. The phone was in the trash, it had been submerged in coffee. Marie claims you must have done it."

"We were lucky she did not get it out of the house." Sally continued. "It took them a bit to get a warrant and it was just this morning that the search occurred. We don't know for sure, but it would appear Junior is not involved. If he were they would not have gotten the warrant, in time. The phone would have been dust, lost in some big mound of dust."

Ed picked up, "This is just the beginning. I hate to say it, but Junior will be involved now. We had to do a couple of things to make it obvious a false arrest had been made. Worst of them was to play your first tape for Judge Marin."

"I thought you said it was stupid to play that tape for a judge."

"Well, I don't remember, exactly, but we told you something like, nothing is straightforward."

"Why is my suggesting sharing an audio file with a judge a mistake, and your doing it a good thing?"

"We need to understand Marie. I thought you and she were a great couple. She is not only evil, but also damn proficient at it. Dickie has a reputation for charming the ladies, but she has become your biggest enemy. Do you have any idea why?"

"Tax time is always hard for us. I have work and clients in need of help, year-round. But from the end of January to the middle of April I do nearly half of my billable hours. I work and I sleep, that's it. I know I must eat; I do that while I work."

"Bob, you are not looking at this right," Sally was almost in my face. "So, you have a bad quarter each year, that is a reason for boredom, maybe a fling -- this woman is behaving as though she hates you. Why?"

"We decided Marie would give up work while our kids were young. Our seven-year-old, Claire, came right away. We'd given up on having a second, then Bob, Jr. came along, he's about 18 months. What Marie hoped would be five or six years of staying at home is looking more like ten to twelve. That bothers her."

"Bob, there is something more and you know it."

"Marie has always been enamored by Dickie, and his ilk. Guys who have time to be carefree and frivolous. She once told me accountants lack spontaneity, let alone frivolity. My counter was in my business, spontaneity is likely a felony. I thought it was funny, she was not amused."

Now it was Ed's turn, "Bob, that sounds like a wife who was looking. Did you have warning?"

"Warning? No. But, I don't think I ever looked. Marie is six years younger. At first, we were an unlikely pair. She was looking for 'the right' husband. I was doing well. But odd as it sounds, we hit it off. She had our spirit; I was our rock. We worked. But looking at what is going on now, a curious man would have suspected."

"Suspected what, exactly?" asked Sally.

"She said she wanted the right house, the right schools, the right everything. She says she wants to work, but her degree in Language Arts doesn't qualify her for much; and nothing around here. She says many things, but I never see action. What she does is make sure we are at the right parties, with the right crowd, and so on."

"The right parties and crowd are not a bad thing. Being associated with the best people in the area must be good for business." Sally was digging in. Clearly, both knew I was not seeing a picture of what was going on.

"Well, to her, the right parties are with Dickie and that crowd."

"And she flirts with all the men?" Ed looked suspicious.

"Not really. But she is out-going, friendly, our social organizer. I just sit and marvel. We laugh about it, or we used to. Thinking back, it was an issue at the New Year's Ball. The in crowd, of which Dickie was a main member, were using some drugs, nothing illegal, she assured me. One of them was some woman's name, like Maggie?"

"My, my, you are the party animal", Sally laughed. "How about Molly? AKA, MDMA or Ecstasy?"

"OK, I hope you are not expecting me to be embarrassed. I know all I need to know about drugs." Okay, I'll admit I am a complete nerd on the subject. I lived a quiet, idyllic life -- or so I had thought.

"But maybe not all Marie would like you to know." Ed was somber. "Molly isn't heroin, and it isn't legal, either. Party people can get into prescription pain killers, benzos, all manner of things. They think -- legal, but only legal if taken as prescribed under a doctor's care."

"We need to start digging. If she is using drugs, your children are not safe." Sally was making notes, for herself. "Well, our picture is a little clearer. Your wife has moved from bored to at least thrill seeking, of that we can be fairly certain. Changes in behavior and impaired judgment are typical with drug use. Even with lower doses of the so-called party drugs."

That worried me, "I do know this; Marie is vindictive as hell. If Dickie has convinced her, I am the enemy, whether it is impaired judgment, or not, she will come at me with fury. I think that is what I saw when we met."

Sally looked at Ed, "Dickie has done that, I know he has. He gets friends to tell his prey that the spouse is cheating. I don't know how he does it, exactly, but he does. Then, he moves in. He has a great reputation, I guess the ladies love being loved by him, but to date, he gets bored, moves on and Junior mops up the mess."

Ed looked at me, "If you talk to her friends, see if you can find out if they think she has a reason to be upset with you. Unfortunately, now it doesn't matter much. We got Junior involved, so it is a war."

Sally laughed, shaking her head. "This has to be a first. A spouse says, honey, we have to talk -- they never do, and all hell breaks loose, anyway."

"Pardon me, but neither of you has ever told me why you played the recording for the judge."

"Marie is saying you are abusive. You are having an affair. You are dangerous to her children. For a time, there was no phone to be found in your home. This tended to corroborate her story. We decided it was best to reveal the recording, to taint her accusations, and to show you are the aggrieved party here. It was a close call, but we did it."

"Why was it a close call?"

"The judges are all friendly with Junior. He has now heard his 'idiot' son has been recorded with some new paramour, plotting your demise. Junior knows Dickie will fuck it up. Junior will do his best to get ahead of the game, destroy you, let Dickie have his fun, dump Marie, then Junior will destroy her and await Dickie's next fling.

"It was a close call because establishing you as the good-guy started the war much earlier than we were prepared for. Fortunately, we have a good case in against the city. They are going to pay you a bunch. You'll need that, and more, I'm afraid to defend against the wrath of Junior."

The Wrath of Junior

It was Monday, a new week, a chance for a better start. I was staying with my friends, and attorneys, Ed and Sally. Their home has a guest wing, I guess you'd call it. There is a doorway from their family room to a small office. The door leaving the office leads to an entry hall. From there you can leave the house, go to a bedroom, or a large bathroom. The bedroom is large and has a pantry with a coffee maker, microwave, and small refrigerator.

I can stay in that room and never enter the main house. From what they tell me, I am going to need them, frequently.

I arrived at work at five minutes to nine. At precisely 9:00 am I was buzzed, a process server from Dewey, Cheetham, and Howe (Junior's law firm of choice) was there. He had a stack of large envelopes. He told me I was required to sign for them.

"One moment, please." I hit #1 on the speed dial and Ed picked up the phone. "Ed, a process server is here with a stack of envelopes. He wants me to sign for each of them." Ed asked he be put on speaker. I did.

"My name is Ed Dover, counsel for Mr. Watson, might I have your name, please."

"Ralph, just call me Ralph." Said the server.

"Ralph, my client is not knowledgeable enough to sign for these documents. Therefore, our legal system has established a process for the serving of legal pleadings. You have your responsibilities, of which I trust you are aware. My client has no responsibilities because he is involved in no legal proceeding at this time. If you wish to serve him, do so. He has no part of this process."

"I am instructed to get signatures."

"Ralph, serve my client and leave, or just leave. My client is in front of you. Those are your choices."

The server got this arrogant look, "I am noting you refuse to have your client sign. I am leaving."

"Thank you, Ralph, enjoy your day."

Ralph turned and left. He was out of earshot, and I said, "Ed, he didn't leave any documents."

"Bob, I've been involved in more lawsuits than I care to mention, I never saw that. Did you happen to see his list, that he wanted you to sign?"

"I did. One of the items, maybe the third on the list was entitled 'Complaint'. The first two were 'Notice of this or that', I don't recall. There were also 'Interrogatories", more than one, if I saw correctly."

"What on earth are they doing? A lawsuit follows one distinct path. They file a complaint; the complaint states their cause of action and the reasons. We answer the complaint, admitting or denying their claims. Then, if either of us need information to properly defend our position, we ask for discovery. The judge grants that request. Then, there are motions and things like interrogatories. Someone is out of control. I smell Dickie."

I called Ed again, toward the end of the day. Another server had arrived with one document. He was waiting outside my office. Ed asked me to invite him in. The man asked if I was Bob Watson, I said I was, he handed me an envelope and said you have been served. He left.

"Bob, that is how it is supposed to work. Though I will say, I called Ron Howe and asked him to have me listed as your attorney of record. He asked I confirm that with a letter. I did and couriered it over to him. They still served you. I hate to say this, but you have a mess on your hands."

"My loving wife hates me, her boyfriend is out to get me, and his powerful father mops up after him, crushing all in his path. Where's the problem?"

"Bob, I can't tell you what a clown show that was this morning. You could not find a law clerk who would do that, let alone a lawyer. You couldn't get a process server to behave that way, either. No, that was Dickie throwing his arrogant incompetence around. I can think of only two reasons why.

"The first is Dickie is trying to impress his old man, that he is in the game. Now you might ask why someone would so thoroughly fuck something up as proof he is doing well. I would tell you that is Dickie. He is a disaster. Anything he touches, he screws up.

"The second is more likely, I think. Junior heard from the judge about the recording. Junior asked his son what was going on? Dickie explained, wanting Daddy's help. Daddy refused. Dickie fucked it up intentionally to get the old man to jump in."

It is bad enough my wife has become a stranger, so I go to my friends who are expert in these matters. They tell me it is a pattern and explain, then, things don't go according to the pattern. I was lost, so I asked, "Why would Dickie want Junior's help?"

"You've got me by the ass. I have no idea. Junior's role is mopping up, he threatens Dickie and harasses him, and ultimately bails him out. Neither one of them want him involved early. Unless this is different from the normal dance they dance."

"Different? Different how?"

"Bob, I have no idea. Maybe the drugs are the issue. Maybe it is something else, I would be guessing. But if Dickie created this public embarrassment to force his daddy to get involved, I don't like it."

Now, I was scared, "If Junior is not going to mop up, and instead, is going to run the campaign for Marie, that sounds serious, really serious."

"I can't tell you how serious, Bob. But Dickie is involved, and that is a plus. He may well be the biggest ally you have when all is said and done."

You read stories about the husband and ex-seal being wronged. Shortly thereafter, there is retribution on a Biblical scale. The husband comes out whole, all the bad actors are strewn behind him, barely existing. I am not an ex-anything. I am an accountant. I could go and refuse to do their taxes -- but I didn't do their taxes. Things looked bleaker.

We Need to Talk, revisitedI got a text from Marie, "we need to talk".

Something told me I should ignore it. Whatever it was trying to warn me was not loud enough, I texted back, "sure, where and when?".

The return text pissed me off, "This has gotten out of hand, my attorney says I can't talk to you unless she is present."

"Then we can't talk. Thanks for bringing it up."

She kept texting. I forwarded the whole lot to Sally. I must be a slow learner.I still trust my wife. I know she is not to be trusted, but I haven't let go. I haven't stopped. I'd say I still loved her were it not for the conversation I overheard. Yet, she was clearly at war with me. Why?

Well, many are in my situation, and they are not the senior tax specialist in a large accounting firm. They do not have resources. They don't have best-friend attorneys. Thinking of whom, I must get out of their home. Private entrance or not, they didn't take me to raise. I looked for a nice condominium my firm would be able to loan to good clients, once I had moved out. I'd end up being able to write my stay off as a business expense.

I quickly found one. I also found I had no assets with which to purchase a condom, let alone a condo. They were all frozen. More work for Ed and Sally, their little joke about bend over and enjoy it was becoming less amusing by the day.

I was amazed. I was approached by the CEO of our firm, with whom I am friendly, but we're not really friends. He said he heard I was going through I divorce and looking for a condo. He brought up this could be of benefit to the firm and if I found something let him know. He was certain he could get our board to buy it and rent it to me for a period.

I was shocked it was so generally known I was divorcing or looking for housing, but hey, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, right?

Before I knew it, we had a condo which cost me nearly nothing. Life was looking up. I got a call from Ed; we were meeting Marie and her attorney. The good life came in short spurts these days.

My Secrets are RevealedEd and Sally both decided to attend this first meeting. We were still outnumbered. Marie sat in the middle of a small army of people who didn't really identify themselves, to me, anyway. It was absolutely feudal, on the other side of the table. The royal, her lords and ladies, footmen, and other minions.

Marie looked at me, "I'm sorry for all this, this formality, I have so wanted to talk to you."

She was interrupted by a dour looking woman who could have easily worked in a funeral home, with her overall cheeriness. "Marie, let me do the talking."

She launched into their suit and reasons for same. Bad as she looked, she was worse than she appeared. I kept getting lower and lower in my chair. I did some estimation in my head as she droned on and mentioned she expected me to pay for all legal costs. The people in the room had to be at least $1,800 per hour, collectively. That's $30 a minute. I straightened up, hoping she'd get to the point more quickly.

If you've never sat in on some legal proceeding, I suggest you do all in your power to keep it that way. The lawyers speak in some tongue, certainly not conducive to any understanding by those in the unfortunate position of paying for the drama. I did tune in when she said something about in flagrante delicto, in reference to me. Like I say, the language was odd, but I knew this had something to do with not keeping my pants zipped.

"We have photos. I am prepared to show you a few today."

The first photo was an attractive young woman sitting by herself at a table for two. I recognized her, Rebecca Carter, a client, with whom I had had dinner, but not at this restaurant, and not just the two of us. It was my practice never to dine alone with a female client. The next photo was of the two of us, apparently at that same table, she was gazing at me. I wondered how it was done. The second photo was real, I was nearly certain of that. It didn't show the table, but our position was the same as the two place settings in the earlier picture. Together, they gave the image of our being alone at an intimate dinner.

There were more photographs. The two of us exiting the restaurant, holding hands. Then, one on the elevator, in an embrace and kissing passionately. You could not always see my face, but my sport coat was a tweed, not common, by any means and where you couldn't see the whole face, the clothing made it seem obvious.