SWIB 03: The Truth

My attorney asked me how I could watch what went on and testify as I did. I answered by referring to the video. It was an eerie thing to watch. I stood there not looking at anything, frozen.

I didn't really move until Ray handed me the phone. I told him I never experienced anything like it. I had gotten myself into this affair and was so frightened that I'd get caught, when I did, I just froze. It was like nothing I ever experienced. I had no clue of what to do and just seized.

When they asked me to testify Dave struck first, to be honest, I just didn't know. I paused and gave my best haunted look as though I were totally bewildered.

Garland was brutal on cross examination. He mocked me. He said it was the biggest lie he'd ever heard on the stand. He got an objection. He said I had lied on the stand to get myself here. He got another objection and was told to ask questions not give his summation. Then he looked at me and coldly said, I want to talk about your lies in this testimony. He got another objection from my attorney and a blank look from me.

You see, a big part of what Greg and I worked on was making me comfortable with my testimony. Since much of it was, indeed lies, I could hardly get confused or admit to them. That would see me end up as some prison-dyke's bitch, which as I thought about it, wasn't the worst of outcomes.

He said I testified I had been with Ray once, at the Holiday Inn.Greg and I decided I had to give them that one, we knew they kept their video surveillance and the way I had entered with Ray left no doubt what we were there for. I said yes, we did meet there. He said, I testified it was the only time. I agreed.

To be fair, I knew it was the only time they could prove, the times in my office were just him and me. The times at the truck stop were non-existent. Well, we had a contingency there. If by chance, someone had seen me, I knew they had not seen us together. I met him in the room and left before he did.

If someone testified, I was there, I'd admit I was there with Greg. He was willing to do that for me. It would have terrible ramifications for both of us but would help me show I was just some sleazy whore who made the rounds and unlikely to plot with one of my johns about harming my husband. It would be a fallback, we both bet would never come. Fortunately, it didn't.

Garland reminded me Harrison testified we were at the truck stop many times. I remember glancing at the jury, they didn't like the question, Harrison finally said a few. "Ray Harrison and I never met at that truck stop for any reason, ever."

He started twisting it around, was he lying or was I lying?

"I have no idea why Mr. Harrison testified as he did. All I can testify to is Ray Harrison and I never were at that place for any purpose, ever."

He went at me for conspiracy. The questions were easy, the answers, sincere. I didn't want Dave hurt. I hurt him by being there. I hurt him by being at the Holiday Inn. I hurt him by not trying to help stop his beating. I hurt him by relaying what I'd been told while I was frozen, that Dave struck first.

Maybe it was because Garland was so fixated on getting me for conspiracy, but he never really pursued the first lie; that Dave struck first. He wanted to know about conversations with Ray.

I blushed when I said Ray and I had never had a conversation. He made me admit I'd said I wanted Ray and didn't want Dave.

Greg and I worked hard at that. I straightened myself, faced the jury, and said, "I wish I could recall all the things I said while I debased myself. Honestly, I cannot. I know he made me say things—he was great, my husband was not. But never once did he ask, nor did I say we wanted harm to come to Dave. They had a confrontation. It is on video. To my shame I did nothing to stop it. I also did nothing to start it."

His final set of questions was about my claim that a member of the bar had approached me and told me not to fear a video. I stated he did. He said it was unheard of. It would be illegal, highly unethical, would get an attorney disbarred, and I said I didn't know about the law, but that is what he told me. I sat erect, did not cringe at his questions, did not avert my eyes during my answers. He was animated. I was calm.

The next defense witness was the manager of the truck stop. He was asked if he knew Scott Abbott, he chuckled. As his employees had testified, people having affairs at the truck stop routinely registered as Scott Abbott. They are required to pay for their room and leave a $500 cash deposit. On leaving the room they go to the attached diner and eat or have coffee while awaiting their room to be checked out. If there is no damage $350 is returned to them and they go home happy.

He was asked if he'd ever seen me near the truck stop. He answered no. He testified that we had offered a $1,000 reward to any of his employees who could identify me as having been there. None of them could pick a photo of me from a set of ten we'd given him.I wondered as he testified, why he would do that and what it cost Greg for the testimony.

My defense also produced a video from the Marriott lobby, Harrison's attorney and I passed one another. I said something very brief, then he talked for a bit longer, we passed one another, and I looked back, with a curious look on my face. It matched the testimony I'd given not to fear the motel video.

The video had no sound and was from above the people in the lobby. You could see conversation, but there was no way to tell what was really being said.

Harrison's attorney was called to rebut. He said we'd just passed, by coincidence. I started to ask him something, but he stopped me and told me he could not talk to a witness outside the court room. He was an ethical attorney and the suggestion of this could damage his reputation. He would not stand for it. My attorney did not cross examine.

My attorney was brilliant in his closing. He said all that everyone agreed on was I testified Dave hit Harrison, that proved not to be true. I spoke of my confusion and regretted it. It was also understandable, that because of a one-time mistake and a misguided attempt to hide that mistake, I might accept someone else's account. I had an illicit meeting with a man and wanted to lie about it to protect my marriage. I hoped I could hide my misdeed.

Then, he examined the others involved. Harrison in his criminal defense set me up to lie and when that went bad, he made up a story about harming my husband in a conspiracy. He admitted on the stand I'd said some things while I was being teased, in a sexual frenzy, and that he'd made me say them. Those statements had no weight. Harrison had been proven to be a liar. His lies were serious. My white lie meant nothing, really.

The prosecution fell for Harrison's lies. The prosecutor was seeking a charge of attempted murder. The jury had seen me during the attack. I was paralyzed with fear. People like that aren't the type who conspire to murder or do bodily harm. The prosecution had made a terrible error believing Harrison, the jury had to be smarter.

Finally, there was the matter of videos from the Pines Motel and another at the Marriott. The video at the Pines could have been very damning and when asked about it, I was anxious to see it. Why would I be anxious? A plausible explanation is someone told me the video showed nothing. I testified that Harrison's attorney told me that -- and there was a video which showed us speaking. What other explanation could there be?

He closed with the standard in a criminal case was beyond a reasonable doubt. I had admitted to adultery, for which I had shown sincere remorse. I admitted I tried to say Harrison was struck first, to save my marriage from my own misdeed. Harrison was properly found guilty, that white lie meant nothing. As to conspiracy to harm my husband, it was ludicrous. I had tried to save my marriage and in fact, my husband had attended every day of the trial and not filed for divorce. What did that say about his sense of my guilt?

The prosecution has fallen for lies from the convicted, you the jury must be smarter. And they were. I was acquitted. Totally. Not even perjury to which I'd confessed.

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I hung up the phone, I'd told Greg Atherton of my acquittal. I told him I was in the car, headed his way.

I burst into the room, dressed in a leather bustier, long leather boots, and an 8-inch strap on. "You miserable fucking worm, I am going to take it out of your ass." I had to keep my boss happy and figure how to rebuild my shattered life.

Sue Dobson

I am sure Dave is going to ask me to marry him. It is time for the truth. But what truth? Maybe that's the wrong question. What is the truth?

Well, he thinks we are both on the rebound. Our dating was a convenience caused by two cheating spouses. That's true. Well, not totally true. Where do I start?

It might seem logical to start with Dave, but I think it's better to start with my dad. I took after him. I love to build things, to do things. When I was young Dad and I worked in his shop, or we went hunting or fishing. Mother was always upset. I was their only child, a girl, and I was daddy's girl. She thought it terribly unfair.

Dad was the head of manufacturing for Atherton Products. He had originally worked for a fabricating plant owned by an automotive supplier. Atherton bought that plant about twenty-five years ago. Most of the plant supervision stayed with the parent company. My dad and a few others remained, wanting to stay in Riverton. As the remaining expert on manufacturing, he became a young head of the fabrication plant and eventually the head of manufacturing for both plants.

Though Dad was the senior man, he was youngest of all manufacturing supervision. The oldest supervisor was coincidentally retiring about a month after my high school graduation. Dad was anxious for me to get that position. The way he saw it I would be in the best position to get his job when he retired. All the other supervision would retire before he did, and he would hire their replacements.

I was excited by the idea and started work only a few weeks after high school. When fall came Dad moved me to the night shift and I was a student by day and a worker at night. I was young and could nap here and there. It was a piece of cake. I got a degree in management in a semester less than four years. I got an MBA two years after that. My future was bright.

The only thing that suffered was any semblance of a life. I worked, went to class, ate, slept, studied, went to class ate, slept, worked, slept, ate, and on and on in a non-repeating pattern I didn't even understand. How could I find a guy, get to know him, and form a relationship? I never found that answer.

Although I almost always had Saturday night and Sunday off, I had no one to share them with and too little energy to go looking. I put what energy I had into looking for my soulmate. Instead, I found John Dobson. Though he is technically still my husband, he plays only a small role in my truth.

I was completing my MBA about the time I heard Molly Smith had started working in engineering. I couldn't say why, but I didn't want to meet her. She worked days. I was a student by day. That first year, there was no chance we'd meet. When I graduated, Dad assigned me to the fab plant.

I fell in love with the fabrication side of the business. It required expensive equipment, as a consequence, initially much of our product was purchased. As Atherton grew, capital became available for new machinery and equipment, and we were steadily gaining total control of the manufacture of all our products. I was the first to supervise the use of these new technologies, strengthening my position with the company.

It seemed sudden, Dad was retiring and asked me what I wanted. I told him our products were getting too difficult to manufacture and I needed to work with Molly Smith to simplify designs. He just smiled and said, "and so you shall."

I told him it had to be after he left. I wanted a chance to get to know Molly, before I was shocked by the fact, she married my little brother. He laughingly said, "You have some of your mother in you, after all."

I asked if he could still guarantee I would get his job and would work with Molly. He laughed. Dad told me all about Greg Atherton. He loved the business. He had a real knack for finding the right people to do what he needed. Greg's gift was in sales. He got one after another big contracts from companies. But Greg had (and has) a huge problem.

He married a socialite, and they have two daughters. They live apart and Greg rarely sees his daughters. It seems he is naturally submissive and wanted his debutante wife to wear a fake penis and make him her bitch. Dad hemmed and hawed and could hardly get that out. When he called a dildo a fake penis, I almost lost it, but I knew it wouldn't help him, so I let him struggle on.

Dad and Greg were as close to friends, as any Greg had. He confided in Dad and Dad could be persuasive with him. Dad told me Greg would know I knew all my dad did, which would also help me. Dad told me a few, including Dave's family, knew about Greg and that Dad and Greg were "close".

In a way it kept my parents from being popular among the country club set. But Dad's devotion to work and Mom's work with the church, kept them from doing much else, so the lack of popularity never bothered either of them.

Dad retired. I was named as his replacement. A month after Dad left, Greg told me to meet him in his office. When I arrived, he had Molly with him and introduced us. He told her I was the head of manufacturing and he thought Molly might be able to help me, by making some of our products easier to produce. Greg thought it was the most important engineering project for the company, at this time. We began immediately.

+++++++++++++++++

Earlier, I said I didn't know why I didn't want to meet Molly Smith. That is not totally true. I discovered, when I heard Dave was returning to Riverton, married, that I had always loved him. As much time as we had spent together in our youth, except for a couple of minutes, I never had an inkling of any feelings for him.

The only exception was one weekend when Mom and Dad were going out of town. I was sixteen and more than a little boy crazy. But my parents trusted me. I promised them I wouldn't go on a date, go to a party, or allow any boy to visit. I meant my promise.

I was laying in the sun and Dave came over. He just wanted to hang out. We talked, he was going to settle in and sun with me. He took off his shirt. For the first time I looked at him and saw a boy rather than my little brother. I told him to leave. I could see it hurt him. I remember it felt weird, almost incestuous, I was lusting after my kid brother and embarrassed that I was aroused. I was too young to know how to explain, or understand, really, how I felt, so I just made him go.

After that we grew apart.

Hunting, fishing and the like no longer were a top priority. Boys were. I dated. I dated a lot. Looking back, I believed I'd outgrown a little brother. I was a year older. He couldn't even drive yet. Our friendship was an anachronism. I learned, too late, that the strong bond of friendship was the most important part of a long-term romantic relationship.

Dave Smith returned to town, married and in love. I, on the other hand, had been prepared to enjoy my work and endure my marriage.

My husband John is everything I am not. He is cool, sophisticated, at ease in social situations, lazy, and unfaithful. He swept me off my feet, well, out of my panties, and in a whirlwind, we were married. I was 24 he, 28. We met at the country club where he'd just won the golf tournament for the third year in a row.

Where I was the night superintendent for a manufacturing company, John dabbled. He was a tennis instructor a few months each year. He sold insurance, occasionally. He had an ease about him and was always working on some deal or the other. Oddly, he was successful. He worked just hard enough, as I soon learned, to keep himself in the manner he wanted to live.

John had a nice home on the country club grounds. I assumed he'd bought it. I found out he'd inherited. But it was beautiful, and we set up housekeeping. The first year or so, my checking account went up by at least 50% more than I put in it, due to John's efforts. Then, ever so slowly, my balances started going down. I asked him about it, and he apologized. He said he was in a dry spell. He was gone a lot, during business hours and in the evenings, so I hoped he was trying.

As time went on, my relationship with my husband was ok, for both of us. John was screwing around more than he was pursuing business. He was a lot better at screwing around than any meaningful business pursuit. He was very discreet, if you discount the occasional lip stick on his clothes, or strange perfume odors. I said nothing, he said nothing. We were our version of happy.

Here is what I wrestle with. I tell myself I was prepared to be Dave and Molly's friend, a great manufacturing superintendent, and a contented wife. I would not do anything to gain the heart of my childhood friend. But my actions don't say that. I can give you solid rationale for everything I did. But I look at the results and while it feels wonderful, I don't know that it was honorable.

This is what happened.

Molly had developed a clamp to use in our vans. She took it to Greg, and he acted all embarrassed and made excuses, she didn't know why. Molly told me it made her feel uneasy.

As soon as Molly and I finished talking, I went to see Greg and casually asked him why Molly was so excited. He told me of her clamp and added, he almost said it would be good for self-bondage. He told me to say nothing, he was embarrassed. I assured him I would not.

What I meant was I would not let him know when I cautioned her. I told her he was a natural submissive and she needed to be careful. Though she said she would be careful, I could tell by the flush in her neck and even her ears, my revelation aroused her.

One morning, Molly and I were locked on opposite sides of an argument. She had designed a shelf component with a ridiculous tolerance. Relaxing the tolerance would make no difference in performance and would reduce rework and scrap enormously. She would not budge. I told her we should take it to Greg. She got an odd grin and said, sure.

I had a leg up there, or so I thought. Dad had the goods on Greg and though he never used his knowledge as a weapon, Greg always deferred to him. Greg also knew, I knew where the "bodies were buried", or in his case where the "fake penises" were buried. He deferred to me, too. I set up a meeting among the three of us.

When I entered Greg's office, Molly was already sitting in one of the guest chairs in front of his desk. I took the other. I started to explain the situation.

Greg stopped me. "I'm aware, I have gone and looked at the situation. In this case I think engineering is right."

Hmmmmm, not Molly is right, engineering is right. Molly had a self-righteous grin on her face. He might defer to me, but she owned him. She'd turned him into her little bitch, I was sure of it.

Both were surprised that I put up no argument. Now I had a smile on my face, which they could try to figure out. I thanked them both and in less than five minutes, start to finish, our meeting ended.

I now had a course to take. I was content for Dave and me to be friends if he was happily married. But in my mind, he was not happily married if his wife was screwing around.

I hired a private investigator to chronicle my husband, John's dalliances. That wouldn't take long or cost much, but the investigation would establish my relationship with the firm. In no time we had what we needed on John. I asked the investigators to follow Molly. They turned up nothing.