SWIB 01: We Need to Talk

"Well, I am sorry, but..."

"No, no buts, while I am Mr. Watson's good friend, I am here as his attorney. Some monster has done a great injury to his son, and right now there are only two camps, those with us, and on the side of angels, and the monster's associates, which are you?"

"Well, ahummm, that is well put. Let me tell you what I believe. This is not yet ready for the police, and they are involved, but you represent the boy's father, so I can speculate a bit, with you.

"Mrs. Watson and her friend seem to use a tranquillizer-like drug on a somewhat regular basis. We are analyzing it, but in the main, it is prescription drugs. But the two of them also use some recreational drugs: it appears cocaine, X, and maybe others. Unless they are extremely careful, and how often do you find careful drug users, there is every chance that when they gave your son, something to make him quiet down, it probably included whatever trace amounts of other drugs the adults had on them."

"That bastard, I'll..."

Sally interrupted, forcefully, "Mr. Watson, we'll not speak of other people." As she spoke, she dug her nails into my wrist, to make sure I got her point. I did and went silent.

The doctor smiled a bit and turned toward me. "This may be of interest to you. As I understand it, when the police arrived, they could not get in the house, so the broke in. Word is they found a man passed out on the bed and a very groggy naked woman cuffed to the bed with what I believe is termed a ball-gag, in her mouth.

"The word the police had was from a female attorney, who had everyone upset at the heinous acts being performed." The doctor paused and looked at Sally, who looked back without any acknowledgment. "The police used bolt cutters to free the woman's arms, then used police cuffs to restrain her arms behind her back so they could remove her to their car. She was still naked and gagged. The word is she was quite hysterical."

Sally got a lawyerly smile and said, "Stupid slut. If she didn't like how, she was being treated, why didn't she say something?"

The doctor looked as though he needed to explain a ball gag, then, caught on, smiled, and said, "Exactly."

Ed called Sally, they talked for several minutes. Then, she handed me the phone and said, "Ed wants to talk to you."

"Hi!" I had nothing left and awaited his words.

"Bob, first and foremost, I am sorry. I knew that stupid son of a bitch would fuck it up, but I had no idea even he would sink to that. Not that it makes up for anything, but they are being treated terribly. True to form, he has lawyered up and suddenly doesn't remember her, anymore. She should have gotten married to him before he pulled something like this."

I used a line I'd heard in some movie, "Gee, I can't tell you what it would do to me if they gave her life in the electric chair."

He didn't chuckle or even pause, he just continued, "No one should be talking to me, but like I say, the police hate people who abuse children. A guy who was in with Dickie and his lawyer, before they clammed up completely, says it was your wife. Dickie really had no knowledge of what was going on. He only gave the child his medicine because his whore likes kinky sex games. He is in fact, a model citizen."

"What about all Sally's claims of my abuse and her saint-like behavior?"

"That's what Sally and I were plotting. You listen to her and do what she says. This may well have a good ending."

"I assume you mean better than top-bunk at the homeless shelter."

"I know, I can't imagine the trauma you've gone through. But hang in there. They must be in a panic and Dickie is about to be arraigned. Time is not their friend."

The turned worm

I did listen to Sally. As an aside, if Sally wants you to listen to her, she doesn't need Ed to pave the way. Ed is a fine attorney and forceful opponent. Sally scares me to death. Her plan sounded plausible; things were looking up.

It was 8:30 by the time I had everything about the plan ready, since I no longer had a job, my company car had gone away, Sally drove me to within a block of condo. I walked from there. At least I had two more days before homelessness.

I lay on the bed, fully clothed, and was asleep immediately. I awoke to the doorbell and a pounding on my front door. It was 10:05. Even sleeping past 10 didn't seem to have helped, I tried to laugh to myself. I opened the door.

An older gentleman, who resembled a mangy member of the ferret family stared me in the face. "Mr. Bob Watson?"

"Maybe."

"Mr. Watson, if I may have a moment of your time, I think I have some ideas which can end this bad streak you've been having and get you back on top of the heap."

I continued to stand in the doorway, blocking his path. "Your name?"

"My name is Jon Cheetham, I am an attorney."

"Jon, my friend, I was born at night, but not last night, that bad streak I have been having was designed, engineered, and built by you and your firm. I'd think you suddenly were overcome by guilt, but you said you were a lawyer."

"Despite our past, we are now in a position to help one another."

"Bull shit! You are a paid, a paid, I don't know, I want to say assassin, but they are kinder. They put a bullet in someone, and their pain is over. You are closer to the Marquis de Sade. Speaking of whom, one of his apprentices was visiting my wife last night."

"If I may..."

"You may fucking not." I was not in Sally's league, but I could use some of her material. "Here is the deal. Dickie is in deep shit. He is going to prison for harming a child. His life span after he is sentenced is shorter than that dick, he seems so proud of. His old man has a scheme. If he wants me to consider his scheme he and I meet, face-to-face, just the two of us. Otherwise, he can stick it up his ass."

"That may not be possible."

"No problem." I slammed the door in his face. Immediately, he was knocking, trying to restart the conversation.

I opened the door. I stared at him with all the hate I truly felt for his client and his law firm. I said, nothing. He was going to stare me down. I slammed the door again. The knocking resumed. I opened the door.

"I have had a little more than an hour's sleep thanks to your client. I want him in jail -- hell, I want you in jail, you have 10 seconds then I am going back to bed. If I go back to bed, this little drama plays out as it plays out.

"May I come in? I want to make a quick phone call and see if we can agree to terms. It is clear to me you will not meet the terms I came to lay out."

"I don't like you. I don't trust you. I will allow you to come in, primarily so I can sit down. If I suggest you leave, I want you to agree, in advance, you will get up and go immediately. If you do not, I will call 911 and explain why you are here. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir, I will leave. Let me make the call. I am sure we can find common ground."

We stepped into the front room, and both sat. He got out his cell phone and made a call. "I am with Mr. Watson. I have not started any negotiation with him. Before I brought up my reason for being here, he suggested it was because Dickie was in trouble and his father wanted to help get him out of trouble. His condition to listen to anything is to speak directly with the father."

He paused, listening. Every so often he would say, "uh huh", then go back to listening. Finally, "Yes sir, hold on, I will ask."

He looked at me holding the phone in his lap. "Mr. Watson, as you might imagine, this is a sensitive situation, it seems it might be possible for me to arrange a meeting, but it must be quickly, and it must be just the two of you. I would need to assure you did not contact anyone beforehand."

I took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. "Look, you are here, I am here. Pick a place, let's get in your car, I happen to have lost mine, and go meet. This is not complicated. I would prefer we meet in the open, you'll pardon me for so saying but your client is the type of man to make inconveniences disappear. I have nothing left, but my life, I'd like to cling to that if I may."

He held up a finger, wanting me to wait, put the phone back to his ear. "Did you hear that?" Then it was back to the occasional, "Uh huh". Finally, "Let me confirm that."

He looked at me, "Do you know Falconwood Park, near the confluence of the two rivers?"

"A great spot, not too far away, if that is the suggestion, I accept."

"In ten minutes?"

"You got me out of bed. Let me go to the bathroom and brush my teeth and so forth, you can watch if you want. Let's say 20 minutes and I'll hurry."

"Do you have a cell phone?"

"Yes, much to everyone's, save my young son's chagrin. It is there, on the end table. I expect it to be there, untouched on my return."

"Well, I would think so, what do you take me for?"

"Messing with, or stealing a cell phone, would not make the list of the dishonest activities I take you for. Don't play the harmed innocent with me. I'll be right back."

I didn't take too long, but I didn't rush, either. I went into the powder room immediately off the entry. Mr. Cheetham could be assured I took nothing in with me and came out in the same clothing. I joined him and walked over toward my phone.

"I wish you wouldn't."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot, force of habit. Of course, we can leave it behind."

We made our way to his car and were off to the park.

I was surprised, the last Saturday in September and the park was positively loaded with people. Cheetham got on his phone and asked Junior where he was. We got directions and walked over to a bench, on which sat Richard Newberg, Jr. Cheetham told me he would wait here, and I walked for my first meeting with the man who'd destroyed my life.

He was every bit the smug looking bastard I expected. He motioned for me to sit. He didn't offer to shake hands; so, I didn't need to turn him down. We sat in silence for a moment.

"Mr. Watson, may I call you Bob?"

"Call me what you like, maybe we'll become best of friends." My blank stare probably told him I didn't think that likely.

"Bob, we have a real problem, and I am certain we can help one another."

He paused for me to nod, or agree, or something. As still as I was, I was expecting a pigeon to lite on me at any moment.

"Your ex-wife is not a good person, I guess you know that. Unfortunately, her actions have led to devastating circumstances for both you and my son."

I continued to await the pigeons.

"Since it was your wife's actions, I was thinking there must be some way for you and me to work an arrangement so that neither you nor my son are too harshly punished."

"Junior, and I don't give a shit what you prefer to be called, here is what I'm thinking. Your criminal son is going to be arraigned and indicted Monday morning. If you don't get to the point, you and I are still going to be sitting here wondering what the fuck you're talking about." I got still, again.

His legs were already crossed, he also crossed his arms, "I don't think there is any need in spelling it out."

I shook my head, "I agree. You say nothing. I do nothing. In a couple of months, we'll hear your son has been killed in prison, which I presume we will hear with different emotions."

He straightened to his full height, "I could take that as a threat on my son's life."

"Junior, stop it. Just stop it. If you want something from me, tell me. Tell me what I am to do, tell me what I will get when I do it. I will weigh whether some filthy stack of silver is worth what your son did to mine."

He tried to look innocent, but like a wolf before sheep, he had no idea what innocent might look like. "That's just it. My son would not hurt a living thing. It is your wife who tricked him into giving your son and adult dose of a prescription drug."

I was happy I had watched Sally and Ed in various negotiations. No matter what was said, they sat as though someone was reading the phone book. I wanted to stand and casually strangle the life from this worthless piece of shit. Instead, I envisioned the phone book.

Apparently, that was the end of his pitch. After a short pause he said, "So, what do you think?"

"Is English your first language? I wonder because I would swear, I said you tell me what you want me to do and what I will get for it, and I will evaluate whether I'll do it."

Suddenly, his feet seemed interesting to him. He stared at them as he mumbled, "Understandably, I am reluctant..."

"Junior, I get it, you don't want to say anything. We are done here. Your son will get a shiv from some righteous inmate who thinks drugging children is evil. Is there anything else?"

Junior looked from side-to-side. He stared at me, as though he were peering into my soul. I stared back, wondering if he had one. "Bob, Dickie has told me your wife has asked him to drug your children, so they can enjoy themselves, uninterrupted. She even gave him a small bag of the drug, she told him was for children."

I shot back the obvious, "He's in jail, just when did he reveal this evil practice to you?"

"Well, unfortunately, it has been going on for some time."

I smiled, "That's not unfortunate, I now have you as an accessory. You can do time, too. Maybe I can mount both of your livers above my fireplace if I am lucky enough to ever have a fireplace. If you are going to make shit up, you'd better think harder."

He sighed, resigned to needing to say more, "OK, I can see why you have been successful. You're no dummy. My dipshit off-spring is a walking, talking disaster. But he truly means no harm. He isn't smart enough. You are right, if he goes to a high security prison, he'll get what other prisoners think is justice. I must avoid that. I am sure you can come up with a reasonable story which will point the finger at your wife. My son will get some lesser sentence. If you can do that for me, I can see your old life is restored and pay a million dollars toward your son's bright future. What do you think?"

"You are asking me to perjure myself. This is all your idea, your son hurt mine, and you want me to take all the risk."

He was nearly squirming, now, "I am in an impossible position. I can't do anything; it will look like I am trying to fix his case. But you are above suspicion. That is why we are talking just you and me. We will forever hold each other hostage, if either of us says anything about the other, our own crime will be revealed."

I shook my head, "I am going to hell, no doubt about that. Selling my own son." I paused, then continued, "I hate my wife, no doubt about that, but everything I have ever seen from her, she is a devoted mother. I fear if I make something up, it will be as bad as your effort."

"Where does that leave us?"

"You call my old employer. You tell him to take me back as a partner, he can retain some majority ownership, but I will now be a partner. We'll call that an act of good faith. On Monday morning, we will meet I will make up a story, along the lines you suggest. If you want to tweak the lie, it is fine with me. For the lie you requested you will give me two cashier's checks. One for $1 million, to the trust for my son and one for $200 thousand to me, for my creative services."

"I think we can do that."

"Ordinarily, I would fear that your follow will be to somehow turn this around. I approached you, extorting money, it is my wife and I who are evil you and your poor spawn are victims. I want something from you at the time we make the exchange which assures you will not double-cross me. I have no idea what that looks like, but I want assurance you and I know we are obstructing justice with your proposal, and we are bound by our dishonesty to secrecy."

"I'll have something."

"Monday let's meet at 11:00 am at the Starbucks on 3rd. We can stand outside the place with our coffees and casually do our business and be on our way."

"Agreed."

"I expect a call before the end of Sunday, reinstating my job, an act of good faith. The rest of it, my lie to your intent, your payment for the lie, and your statement binding us in silence, at 11 on Monday. Will Mr. Cheetham give me a ride home?"

"Of course."

Epilogue

I must admit, my story on Monday was a humdinger. It was the best croc of shit that Sally, Ed, the city Attorney, and I could come up with in a little over 10 hours. Junior was excited to hear it and gladly handed me the checks. He seemed less pleased when he was arrested for obstruction of justice.

One of the things Sally had seen to before my short night, Friday, was that I had a microphone on me. It was in my belt buckle. All Cheetham's conversation with me was recorded; it looks as though he may be disbarred. Not only was my conversation with Junior recorded, by my belt buckle, there were four people from various law enforcement agencies in place with parabolic mics. They were camped out a block from my condo and when they heard the meet location, could get to the park while I did my ablutions.

The young city attorney was obsessed with getting Junior. Buying bonds to keep the city from settling a lawsuit was not ethical. She did not like he could bully the city and harm people, by using his money "for the public good". She thought it racketeering. By the time it was over, she had four high ranking public officials terminated and had added a racketeering count to Junior's indictment.

I was reinstated as a partner, holding 33% of the company. The owner retained 67% to give to his two children, enabling them to maintain control when he retires. He was most apologetic. It seems Junior gave him two options: accept a goodly sum of money and accept a nonparticipant partner whose only-ever request was I be terminated; or they would go after his clients, one-by-one offering enough discount to win them over. In the latter case, both he and I would be out of jobs. While he hated to do it to me, he did enjoy eating. Oh, did I mention, that is racketeering, too -- and was added to Junior's list of sins.

Dickie was wonderful in his own defense. With his lawyer present, telling him not to answer questions, Dickie volunteered he had inadvertently chosen the wrong bag of drugs. The one he chose was only the prescription barbiturate he was routinely giving to Marie. That was a revelation in and of itself.

Current medical practice is to use benzodiazepines instead of barbiturates. Apparently, Dickie's method of getting drugs did not include doctors or pharmacies. He claimed, and Marie admitted, she was using these drugs for their mood-altering properties. Marie said she was told there was nothing illegal in any of them. It was not clear whether she knew it was illegal to take prescription medications, without having a prescription to take them.

Dickie, on the other hand, had graduated from prescription uppers and downers, and had moved to street drugs, like cocaine, and fentanyl. His lawyer had given up on advising Dickie and being told to shut up. Dickie knew what he was doing. Dickie said he intended, as their relationship grew, to introduce these drugs to Marie. But so far, he had not done it, so they had nothing on him.

He and his dad may get to share a cell.

Marie's fate changed drastically in one weekend. She went from custody of the children, in our beautiful home to an orange jump-suit and 6 by 8 cell. She knew her son was being drugged; but thought them harmless. Suddenly, life was good, again.

The city settled my false arrest. The check, for more than a million went to my attorneys and to my children's future. I was free of debt, in my home and rebuilding my life.

The date for our divorce hearing came up. Marie's attorneys' interest had waned, notably. One did show up and did enough that malpractice could not be added to the firm's woes. The divorce was granted. I was awarded full custody. Marie was looking at serious prison time.