The Bad Samaritan

I did not recognize the car therefore it held no significance for me other than a potential repair project. I was standing in line to get into the van when an older woman stepped out of the car. She was crying while she called out my name asked as a question. "FOSTER?" I just stood there. As she started walking towards me, increasing her speed with each step, I recognized her as an aged version of my mother. She flew into my arms. I twirled her around and around. I broke down in tears of my own.

"Foster, I can't believe you're finally out. You . . . you've changed so much. I barely recognized you. You look so . . . cold and hardened. Please forgive me son for not keeping in touch. Your father didn't allow me to."

On the drive to town, my mother confessed that it was my father that had decreed my disownment from the family although he had softened over the years. At first, the charges against me and subsequent conviction almost destroyed his auto repair business. The business barely survived as he tried to convince the public that an apple could fall far from the tree. It was only in the last few years that his business had fully recovered. My mother still handled the office and bookkeeping end of the business. My father was chief mechanic besides being the owner. He had planned to turn over the business to me before I became a criminal. He was desperate for someone to take over as he was suffering from COPD from years of smoking unfiltered cigarettes. Mother told me she had come up with a plan my father had approved, if I was interested. Since I had no plans other than surviving the current day, I listened.

*****

A FEW WEEKS LATER

A man called Mikey Thompson soon joined my father in the auto repair shop as a senior mechanic specializing in older model vehicles and motorcycles. His skills quickly established why he was picked over those that had worked there longer. None of the men currently working had known Foster Bachman other than by stories. Mikey was presented as a nephew of my mother therefore some family resemblance was reasonable. My physical appearance had changed radically in prison. The little time I had spent since I was back had convinced me that no one was likely to recognize me at all. I had slimmed down my waist, beefed up my arms and chest, and had scars in several prominent, visible places. My nose was quite crooked thanks to having been broken seven times. I now had a graying beard and long hair that I wore in a ponytail. Even my voice was gruffer as I had permanent damage from having taken a chop to my throat in one fight.

I did not live with my parents for fear I would have been discovered regardless of how I looked. My parents told everyone that found out I was no longer in prison that their son was living in another town to escape the assumed wrath of those who still wanted to punish him. Everyone thought that my disappearance was a plausible story. I spent as little time with my parents as possible for their own protection.

There was only one person that I felt I could confide in. It was my friend Larry who was one of the few who believed my story. Well, he actually was kind of in the 'That doesn't sound like Foster' camp. He was now a Deputy Sheriff of all jobs. I found out from him that the two Deputies that had worked with me were no longer there. One had retired and one had been killed responding to a domestic abuse call. We talked a lot about rapists that got off or got light sentences as well as those falsely accused who get punished. True justice for those people was believed to be right up there with world peace as far as unobtainable goals go.

My life as Mikey was going well until the advocate lawyers showed up. A TV movie production crew wanted to do a story of my life. They tried and tried to get my parents to tell me where I was. Unfortunately for me, they had seen me recently in prison and caught sight of me one day in the shop when they were talking to my dad at the shop. I was busted.

I was preparing to leave town when my dad approached me. "Son, I know the last thing in the world you want is to re-live the persecution you suffered but hear me out. If you can control the script, you can tell the real story. This is a unique chance to change your fate. People will probably be ashamed of how they treated you and may let you live close to a normal life again. In addition, you'll have money. Money to move and start over some place, or money to make this shop into whatever you want. It's a tough decision. You have our support no matter what you decided. Good luck."

It was a tough decision. I had my bags packed and re-packed several times. I thought I could always run, so I stayed to find out what the TV people had to offer. The word leaked out to the local news, but enough of the true story was printed that only a few haters gave me any grief. It only took a couple of instances of face-to-face conflict before everyone left me alone. None of the local guerillas came close to matching my experience fighting several prison inmates at a time.

My mother, bless her soul, was a softie. She had always liked my ex-wife and told Barbara where I was despite my pleas not to tell her. Barbara had heard of my return and the TV movie possibility. I wasn't surprised when she showed up on my doorstep.

"Foster? Or should I call you Mikey now?"

"Why should you call me anything? What do you want?"

"Foster, Mikey, please don't be that way. It was a horrible thing I did deserting you when you needed me most, but everyone said you were guilty. I forgive you for cheating on me if you will forgive me. We're even now. So, if you're willing, I would like to spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

"And I would like to live on Mars. NASA just turned me down, so I guess we're both out of luck. Nice seeing you." I moved to close the door.

"Foster, surely a couple of years of being your wife means something to you. Can't I come in and talk?"

"No, dear, a couple of years of being with me didn't mean anything to you when your ex-fiance called. Whatever happened with you and him anyway?"

"Let's just say it didn't work out. Before long, I knew I had made a mistake. He didn't stop seeing other women. I dumped him and eventually found a man to marry. We had a kid. Being a father hasn't stopped him from chasing other women either. We are getting a divorce."

"That still doesn't tell me why you're here."

"I would think that is obvious. I want you back. You were the best thing I ever had, but I was too stupid to realize it. Now that I know what I had and lost, I want it back again. I promise. I'll never ever cheat on you again." I blocked her from hugging me.

"Barbara, I loved you for a long time, even for a while after you deserted me. But my ability to love anyone has been stolen from me. Years and years of being forced to have sex with other men has done that. Unless you have the ability to wipe those memories from my mind, you are of no use to me."

"Oh, Foster. That must have been so terrible for you. Maybe I could love you back to the way you were. Please give me the chance. I'll do anything." She suddenly turned sexy. "I know you probably haven't had sex with a woman very often for years. Don't you remember how great sex between us was? I can give you a reminder right now." She started unbuttoning her blouse. I came over to her. She misunderstood my intent and puckered up for a kiss. Instead, I re-buttoned her blouse.

"Not interested."

"I wouldn't have to be your wife. I could be a fuckbuddy or a maid with benefits. Anything so I could be with you again. I would be proud to stand by you like I should have before."

"I don't think I could afford you."

"What do you mean? According to the news, you're about to be rich. We made it before when you had a lot less."

That's when I figured she was interested in money or fame from the movie or both. "Barbara, it's your morals I can't afford. You gave your old fiancé what was supposed to be mine. You lied to me about it. You betrayed me. I can't trust you. I don't respect you."

"I don't care what you say. I know you still love me down deep inside. I know I'll get you back. I know we'll be happy together again. You will have a step-son to help me raise. I won't let you get away again."

"You are truly delusional."

"Sometimes delusions come true." She left. On a whim, I got her home number from my mother and called. Her new husband answered. He said he didn't know anything about a divorce but now that he thought about it, it seemed like a good idea to him. Sorry, Barbara -- NOT!

*****

HEADLINE NEWS

SAMARITAN DIES IN HOUSE FIRE --

"Last night the local Sheriff's office reported that formerly convicted rapist Foster Bachman, also known as Mikey Thompson, was burned to death in a fire at his cabin in the northern part of the county. Also killed were the supposed arsonists, John and Junior Smithers, the father and brother to the girl who dead body Bachman was supposed to have raped many years ago. Although some people now doubt that Bachman actually raped the girl, he has apparently been executed for his alleged crimes by the girl's family. According to Deputy Larry Mason, the arsonists must have gotten gasoline on their clothes when putting it around the entire perimeter of the house. When they ignited the fire, they accidently caused their own demise in the same flames meant for Mr. Bachman. His parents report that they will bury their son's ashes in a private grave where no one will know its location."

EPILOGUE

"This is reporter, Tim Collins, with District Attorney Alphonso Gomez. Thank you for agreeing to this interview."

"Pleased to be of service."

"In the last year the incidence of reported rapes has dropped 48%. That's remarkable. To what do you attribute the decline?"

"I think that our education programs and volunteer escorts on campus have really made an impact. I also believe the girls have gotten smarter about their safety and the dangers in getting into certain situations."

"Excuse me sir, but those programs have been around a lot longer than six months. Many people are saying that there is a vigilante going around. Several boys that have been accused of rape said that they were taken to an undisclosed place, threatened with torture and given a truth serum. Some were then beaten with special attention paid to their genitals. Others reported they were let go and a high-powered attorney got them acquitted. In addition, some girls who were the alleged victims were kidnapped, given a truth serum, and a few had a tattoo on their belly that says, 'SLUT, enter at your own risk.'"

"I should have known this was an ambush interview. Look, this is all nonsense. One boy comes up with a fantastic story and other boys join in and now we have some sort of urban myth about a vigilante against rapist and girls that falsely accuse men of rape. If there were such a person, he would be guilty of kidnapping, aggravated assault, administering a substance without permission, and a few other crimes. If we caught such an individual, we would prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law.

"In reality, having a truth serum that works 100% of the time does not exist. Confessions under such medication are not permissible in court anyway. The so-called vigilante would be guessing like we do sometimes about who is telling the truth or not. There is nothing to suggest his methods would be any more accurate than those we use to determine the truth."

"So, you don't believe the vigilante, if there is one, has made a difference in reported rapes?"

"I didn't say that. The myth has probably put fear in some boys that has stopped them from thinking they could get away with rape as well as some girls who might be getting revenge for being dumped. If that is the case, it means we are getting the right results from someone else's wrong methods. I would prefer that we get the right results from the right methods. This interview is over."

*****

"Hey, Larry. How's it going?"

"Thanks to you, my workload is reduced, but the DA thinks you should cool it for a while on the rape cases. He asked if I could I convince you to start working on domestic violence cases."

"Sorry, I'm a rape specialist. It wasn't my choice. It just fell to me."

"I saw the TV movie. Man, you have had one fucked up bad-luck life. At least you got lucky once in your life when the Smithers tried to kill you."

"Larry, I never knew that God worked through plumbing to do his miracles." They both laughed.

"I have never heard of an outhouse saving a person's life before."

"Yes, I was just sitting there on my wooden throne because I was having septic problems with my bungled installation of an indoor commode when I heard them. They had already poured gasoline all around the cabin by the time I snuck up behind them. The fight didn't last long, and they 'accidently' spilled a lot of gas on themselves. It seemed a shame for them to go to all that trouble and not start the fire for them."

"You were lucky we got away with 'finding' your burned body and making everyone believe you had died. I'm glad the coroner owed me a favor and the DA played along."

"I guess enough people wanted to believe I was dead that no one really checked. The acting job from my parents helped too."

"So, have you wound up being the Good Samaritan or the Bad Samaritan?"

"Yes."