SWIB 03: The Truth

"I guess we'll know what it shows, after we look at it. We'll look at it in camera."

The two attorneys, a technician, and the judge retired to the judge's chambers. Maybe twenty minutes passed, and they returned.

"The court will come back to order. Mr. Williams, do you still wish to object to the introduction of this video?"

"Thank you, your honor, I do. It is surprise, unsubstantiated, out-of-time, and irrelevant."

"Your objection is over-ruled." He motioned to the technician who was working to connect the cell phone to a large screen TV. "When you are ready, please show the video to the jury."

The video was taken on a phone. It was vertical rather than horizontal and showed a narrow view of the Pines motel. It showed me walking toward them wearing my hat and glasses.

While Harrison was talking, I took off the glasses and hat. You could see the hat drop in the parking lot, not aggressive like I was preparing to fight, more like I lost the will to hold it.

He stopped talking and looked at me. She continued to just stand as she was when facing him, but he'd moved toward me.

You had to assume I said something, though all you could hear was traffic noise from the highway, 20 feet from Reynolds, we were maybe 200 feet farther away. You could see Harrison say something, then I must have said something as I was walking toward him, my back to the camera. All this time Molly stood, frozen, expressionless.

Harrison half-turned, then turned back with his right-hand in a fist. He hit me above the jaw, in the side of the head and I went flying into the door of unit seven. I slid down the door and did not move.

He rushed over and grabbed my right arm and jerked upward, then kicked me hard, in the ribs. The kick was hard enough it separated my arm from his grasp, and I guess that's when I got the shoulder separation. I flew a few more feet, and landed in front of unit eight, where the surveillance video had been centered.

It showed the same violent stomp which had broken my leg. That stomp tied the two videos together as showing the same incident. Molly still stood motionless. It was eerie.

Harrison looked at her and stopped his short, but devastating attack on me. He walked over to his car and did what amounted to a one-handed pushup on the fender, near the headlight.

Then, he just let that hand fall off the fender as he fell face first onto the fender. He rolled a bit, in pain, got up holding his cheek.

He shook Molly, got in her purse, and found her phone, he dialed, and handed it to her. I guessed that was her 911 call. She disconnected; and he started talking to her.

The video ended.

Reynolds said he merely got in his car and left, at that point.

Williams maintained his cool, as though we'd just watched a few minutes of day-time TV and asked for a twenty-four-hour continuance, in view of the new evidence. The judge granted his request.

It was Thursday afternoon, court would reconvene Monday, morning. I stood and turned to leave. I saw Sue had been sitting near the back and was passing through the door on her way out of the courtroom.

Molly called and got my mom, Saturday morning. She asked to talk to me and was needy enough she convinced my mom to get me to the phone.

"What is it? Molly!"

"I need you to listen to me for just a minute. I am not going to ask you to forgive me or come back, but I need you to understand one thing."

"Ok, lay it on me."

"That's not very sincere, well I guess I deserve it.

"I shut down when you came and caught us. I don't know why or what it was but, I was paralyzed, it was like a dream. Suddenly, Ray shook me, and I snapped out of it. He even dialed 911 for me and told them to get police and an ambulance. I did.

"Then, he told me you'd hit him, and he went crazy, he'd go to jail unless I told them what I saw. I thought he told me the truth."

"Bull shit, Molly. The last lies didn't work, so now we are on to new lies."

"I hated so to testify that you hit him. I thought you had. I would never have done it, otherwise. I hope he goes to prison forever. I am so sorry, I . . ." she disconnected the call.

Well, shit! I thought about it and her story matched the video. Maybe, just maybe there was some truth in what she said. I decided I'd at least pass her call along to Garland to see what he wanted to do with the information. I called his home and left a message for him to meet me at 8 am, Monday, in his conference room.

We met. He started talking like there were things he wanted to tell me. I asked to give him some significant new news. I went through the detail of Molly's call. He shook his head.

"That's a day late and more than a dollar short."

"Why's that?"

"That video changed everything. Aggravated assault is a cinch, I might even get attempted murder. They are scared to death. They want a deal. They now say it was a long-term affair and your wife wanted you hurt, maybe dead. She provoked him, knowing his violent temper."

"You can't believe that?"

"You are a romantic dumb-ass, I'll give you that. She lied to you, she lied in open court, her lies were exposed in open court and she contacts you with a new story. You fall for it like an egg from a tall chicken."

"What if she's telling the truth?"

"I don't know, I'd guess the earth will stop rotating and the sun will fall from the sky. But it could happen."

"Her story matches the video."

"Dave, get your head out of your ass. Of course, it matches the video. She had someone tip her off as to the video and what was in it and a story-to-match followed.

She is your wife, I get it. But I see these things all the time, her story will change ten more times, count on it. I want to warn you, as we speak, she is being arrested for various conspiracies, including the attempted murder of Dave Smith."

I inhaled sharply. "I did warn her to tell the truth. I hope now, this is it."

"You watched the same video I did. You saw her, she was paralyzed with some fear, I'd guess. Do you think that was for being caught before entering into an illicit relationship for the first time? Give me a break."

"I wondered about that. But, when you asked her about a surveillance video, she seemed anxious for it to be revealed."

"Too anxious. Somebody tipped her off that there was nothing on the first video to dispute her lies. Then — a second video and new lies."

"You'll hear from her, again, and maybe again after that. She's working you for all she's worth. Consider this a Miranda-like warning. I am the prosecutor of this case. If you want what she says to incriminate her, pass it along to me."

He stared at me, "She looked me in the eye and lied to me. I want her in jail."

"Well, I want what happens to be from the facts. Let the chips fall where they may."

"Dave, you are naïve enough, you believe that. What you want is for her to be innocent like you hope she is, then you want a storybook ending where you get your wife and your life back. It isn't going to happen. Let me tell a story.

"Your wife and her new lover are getting along great. She decides it's time to move on from the boring engineer. She lets it out with good friend, Sue, she is thinking about hopping in the sheets with the paint salesman. She knows Sue will run to hubby and hubby will try to contain her. She feeds ol-Ray a line of shit about you are a dangerous lunatic. You show up and lover boy uses you for a kickball while she has feigned catalepsy; an illness so rare, I've never seen anyone else attempt to even fake it.

"She testifies it was a fair fight in which you came out a distant second, you go away, and she gets lover-boy."

"We are going to have a messy divorce. Wouldn't it have been easier to just hire a lawyer?"

"Dave, Dave, you were a kick in the head away from the promised land. She just stood there. She didn't say, 'oh, Ray, don't hurt poor hubby.'

"He cold-cocked you, held your arm while kicking you so hard you still travelled four feet, then stomped on your leg, breaking two bones. He just happened to look at her waiting for you to die and decided he'd better stop.

"He even had to dial 911 for her."

"You tell a dark story."

End of Part One

The Truth -- Part 2

Originally, I was going to submit this in two parts, due to its length. But the length is the same either way and continuity is more important, I think.

This part is in the voice of several of the characters introduced in the previous part. The accounts of different people, describing a common event are not exact, but there are no inconsistencies. People remember things differently, and different aspects of the event were notable, to that character.

Most of the story is told stream of consciousness by the characters. The segments are accurate, as described, however, they are chronological by segment, not between or among segments. In other words, parts of one segment may have occurred before the subsequent segment while other parts occurred after.

Though the theme is infidelity, the story winds around the fact the truth is not known to the characters, which complicates their lives. The story is not a mystery, but the whole truth comes out slowly in the telling.

I hope you enjoy.

Ray Harrison

Fuck!

My name is Ray Harrison. This is about the saddest story you've ever heard. It's so sad because I am in the shit and none of it is my fault.

I am sitting here waiting for my lawyer. I am paying him a fortune because I got involved with a slut who was just too easy. It's not my fault. But she got up on the stand and lied, maybe that was my edge. If my lawyer is any good, he'll make this work.

I grew up in Philadelphia. I was a tough kid. I was tough because I was always big for my age and naturally strong.

I was a good student. I had to get good grades if I wanted to get into a top college on a scholarship. I had solid talent, if a bit slow. I had to get great grades so a school could offer me an academic scholarship. I got the grades and the scholarship.

I played linebacker at a mid-sized university. I was tough, a sure tackler, and by my senior year, an All-American. I graduated and was a fifth-round draft choice at outside linebacker for the Eagles. Despite my successes, they told me I was a step slow.

In my first-year training camp I had to do something to show my skills. They ran a sweep my way and I absolutely creamed the running back. I drove my helmet into him and put him down, hard.

The offensive line took exception to my hit and the next play I got trapped between a guard and tackle. It pissed me off. I came up swinging. I hit a 335-pound tackle square in the jaw. He wasn't impressed. I lost the fight and got put off the team.

Well, truth be told, there is a bit more to it. After the fight the coach told me I had to shape up or I was done. I told him it wasn't my fault. He just shook his head and said the line on me was exactly right. I was slow, I didn't put out a consistent effort, andI refused to accept blame for anything.

He told me he liked my hard hit. If was to become a significant role-player on the team, I had to play like that, all the time. I also had to learn to channel my aggression within the game when the offense "rewarded me" for my efforts.

I had already been drug tested, so I added steroids to my training regimen to help with aggression, strength, and speed. Who knew they'd test me again? Clearly, it was not my fault.

That led me to sales. I was good at it but deep down I always had this anger burning. It wasn't my fault. The fight I lost got me under the microscope. Then, they held a grudge and checked my urine, again. I was a victim!

My anger was a blessing and a curse with the ladies. I never seemed to be able to form a lasting bond with a woman. But I found that many ladies, particularly married ones, found sex with a dominant man irresistible.

It was a simple and common formula. They put a false image of themselves in front of their husbands. They were bored with the result. A push or two from me reminding them how naughty they could be, and they were mine.

Mostly I'd last maybe a half-dozen meetings with them. They'd get scared, I'd get bored, or mostly my calendar would fill up with new choices. Life was very good.

It was great sex. They didn't need to be wined or dined. They weren't looking for romance. They would do damn near anything. I got so I could spot them at a distance. It was like poaching in the King's preserve.

But this Molly Smith sort of fell on me. I happened to meet Greg Atherton at a truck stop, of all places. I am his primary paint supplier. We just started shooting the shit. He wanted to brag to me, I guess.

He explained that the truck stop had a couple rooms that folks used for some rough sex play. He said the gal, my word not his, he had now was a real wild one. He wouldn't say who it was.

He told me that all you had to do to get a room was say you were Scott Abbott, leave a $500 deposit, use the room, and wait for them to check for damages to get $350 of your deposit back.

I told him he and I didn't look a whole lot alike, why would they think I was Scott Abbott. He laughed, "The clerk knows me by my real name, and I register as Abbott." You had to have proper ID to be Abbott and that ID is five bills. Give them the cash and you're Abbot.

We were talking and a woman came up to him with an envelope, handed it to him, said thank you, and left. He opened it and removed three hundred-dollar bills, two twenties and a ten.

I thanked him for the information and left. On my way out I saw a pretty engineer who worked for Atherton getting into her car. She was looking around like she was nervous. She might as well have had a sign. She was the gal he had been with.

I could tell from that glance she wanted to be told all manner of nasty things to do.

Trouble was I had no good way to meet her. All my contact at Atherton was through either Atherton -- he sure wasn't going offer her up. I also knew the head production lady, Sue something er-the-other.

I'd hit on Sue once. One of the nice things about these married ladies, they leave no doubt. Just like some are ready to go, others will never go. Of those who'd never say yes to me, she'd be at the very front of the line. The time I approached her, I hardly said how are you and she told me she'd heard about me, and I'd better stay away from her and every other woman in the place.

Not much scares me, but she had me backing up by the time she was done.

Like I said, this Molly dropped out of the sky. I'd made my rounds at Atherton one day and was on my way out. She walked right by me and batted her eyes and gave me a big smile. The next week, same thing. She was strutting her stuff, no doubt about it.

I didn't need a third go. I turned and asked where her office was. She pointed. I said, "Let's go."

Damned if she didn't head straight for it. No questions, no nothin' just obeyed. I remember thinking, this might be the big one. We walked in her office and I closed the door. I had this near scowl on my face, no sense starting by romancin' em. She was visibly shaking so I thought I'd see how far I could push.

One thing I learned in these years is once they say no to you, that one is pretty much a no go. You must teach them that the only answer to you is YES. Usually I am cautious, start slow, then push. Not her. She was beggin' for it. I said, "Hike up your skirt, let me see what you got."

Never did anything like that before. Imagine asking a stranger in her professional office to show her stuff. She started swayin' her hips and raising the skirt real sexy like. I thought to myself, the mother lode!!!

When the skirt got high enough, I could see the garter-belt straps holding her hose. A little more showed she was wearing the sexiest pair of black lace panties I had ever seen. She thought she was seducing me! That'd put her in charge. I didn't think so.

I said, "Draws!" not lingerie, not panties, not even drawers, "What kinda slut wears draws?" I turned and walked out of her office. As I opened the door, I noticed there was no one around, so I just left her door open with her skirt at her waist. Let her chew on that.

I was so revved up I had to get one of my other girls and take it out on her. I worked all my frustration out and didn't worry if she'd walk funny for a while after. She was just another married slut.

The next time Molly and I ran across one-another was in the lab. I walked in and barked something. She looked all timid and said she was interested in establishing ground rules.Slow learner! I guess left standing in her skivvies didn't stick. I asked her why in the good fuck would I care about ground rules.

It was time to leave, again. Horny. Damn.

I had to find another one of my regulars and take it out on her. These anger fucks were going to get me in trouble. It was her fault, though. Not my fault she doesn't catch on quick enough. But I had a chance to break this engineer in right. If I did, the rewards would be worth losing a couple 'a regulars.

The third time's the charm, they say. I had to get something going or she'd spook. So? I decided she could blow me. I went into her office, closed the door, pulled down my pants, sat in her guest chair and said, "It ain't gonna suck itself." Like I said, romance ain't the way to start.

She jumped up so fast it startled me. It was like I told her I had the winning lottery ticket. She was almost on me and I made her stop and crawl. Hell, can't let them think they're doin' enough, right?

She was pretty good. She finished, or I guess I did. I stood up, zipped up, and left. Well, almost. It was a Friday.

I looked down at her and said. "No fuckin', no cummin', no nothing until we meet on Tuesday. I'll tell you where. Got it?"

She looked up, smiled, and meekly said, "Sure."

Then, I left. She'd be climbing the walls by Tuesday.

I had her meet me at the Holiday Inn. She was just short of crazed. I withheld her orgasm for a while, then made her beg a while. When it hit, I gave her all I had. She passed out for a couple of minutes. I kept at her.

I made her tell me how great I was. I made her swear to obey. I made her swear to do whatever I told her. I made her tell me I was great, and her husband was shit. That took a while, but she broke. I didn't know what I was going to do with her exactly, but sure as shit I owned her.

We met at the truck stop a few times. I tied her up, and took her violently, she really got off on that. I paddled her naked ass. She didn't respond much, and I didn't think it was worth my time, either. Don't understand some of that stuff, fine if you like it, I prefer a good hard fuck.

I could tell she wanted me to take her ass. I don't much like that. But it put her further in her place, so I did. She would have even cleaned me after, but that's just too nasty for me. She was getting' broken in real good anyway.

I had to think of another step.

I decided I would have her pay. She knew she had to obey; yes, was the only acceptable way to respond. She said others used it and it would be bad for her company if she was seen to be going in there.

I would have made her do it anyway, but I couldn't afford to piss Atherton off over some fluff. I told her we'd use the Pines. She'd pay. She'd get the room. I'd tell her when. She really didn't like that but said yes, anyway. Oh, yeah, this was getting' good.

Well, that's when the wheels came off. I pulled up to the seedy motel and she is standing there all hot to trot. Up comes some ass hole says he's her husband. I told him that didn't matter, I owned her.

He starts back at me, you gotta' nip that shit in the bud or next thing you know he'd be telling me he's gonna kick my ass. I did what I do. I hit the guy a couple times. He was laid out lookin' all pitiful and I had to call 911.