The Fixer

MB has always been a very good actress, convincing in every assignment she's been on. She showed her skills again at the afternoon sermon, raising her hands in rapture, swaying to the music, and smiling her adoration at Reverend Doe.

After another quick bang in the dressing room, MB got dressed and left, ostensibly to return to campus. They agreed to talk on the phone every night, and she promised to attend his Wednesday Power Meeting, about a two-hour drive from the University she supposedly attended.

Of course, the techs recorded all their phone calls. They were working in shifts, several people processing and documenting our evidence. We had enough on Doe already to bring his television empire to an abrupt end. The heavy breathing on the phone and the raunchy text messages were priceless.

On Wednesday, MB called Doe, about the time she should have been leaving "her" college to get to where he was speaking. "John?"

"Hi, sweetheart! How's my favorite college student?"

"Sick. This has been happening off and on for a couple days. I thought for a while there that I was gonna throw up again."

Doe asked, "Is there a virus going around your campus?"

"I don't know. But John, I'm really upset." She made herself sound like she was crying. "I feel too sick to drive so far, but I really want to see you."

"I don't want you driving all that distance if you're not feeling well, Cho-cho. You should rest so we can see each other this weekend."

"You're back at the same place you are now for your Sunday shows aren't you?" she asked.

"Yes. Come down here Sunday. I could use some more inspiration for my afternoon and evening performances."

"Okay. Look, I better go. I really don't feel well. I'll call you tomorrow." She broke the connection, and howled with laughter. "I can hardly wait to see his face."

Sweet, cute little Cho-cho Bennett was in her usual spot near the stage. She showed the same rapturous smile during the hymns, but she looked unhappy at times, too.

Doe noticed. He was waiting for her outside his dressing room. "You look troubled, my child," he said, ushering her inside.

"I am, John. Look." She opened her purse and pulled out a zipper sandwich bag. Inside was a home pregnancy test stick. The convincingly faked plus sign was easy for our cameras to record.

"What is that?" the Rev asked.

"One of those test strips you pee on," Cho-cho answered.

Doe reared back, looking repulsed by the thing. Then he looked angry. "What are you trying to pull?"

"What do you mean, John?"

"You're a college girl. I thought all college girls were on birth control."

"I thought maybe you had a vasectomy, since you didn't say anything about condoms," Cho-cho whispered.

"Why would I have had surgery? My wife is sixty years old, and we sleep in separate wings of the house! Contraception is the woman's responsibility!" he thundered. "You foul, sinning slut! You whore around with every guy on campus, I bet, and now you come to me?"

"John, no!" She began to cry. "No! It's not like that at all! You're the only man I've been with in like, a really, really long time!"

"You're blaming this devil's spawn on me? Oh no, oh no, wait! It was only a couple of days ago. You're not pinning this on me."

"It has to be you," she blubbered. "This is Sunday. The first time we made love was Friday night, nine days ago. I'm pretty regular with my period. I should have gotten it the next day or the day after that. I was so caught up in what we did that I didn't even think about the fact that we didn't use protection until I was driving home, but then I realized I was ready for my period, so I prayed for forgiveness and to not be pregnant. But I am."

"You can't be! Not to me!" Doe yelled.

"I didn't feel good on Monday. I woke up sick, actually threw up, but then I felt okay and went to class and everything. I didn't feel like eating lunch, but I forced myself, and I felt much better. I was okay after dinner, too, but as soon as I went to bed, the nausea started. I WAS sick when I called you Wednesday."

"You can't do a pregnancy test that soon," the Rev stated.

"Yes, you can. I looked it up. Read this." She pulled some folded papers out of her purse.

John glanced at them, and then tossed them on the table next to him. "What do you want? What do you expect me to do? I'm not going to leave my wife and marry you, you whore."

MB folded herself into a little ball on the bed and cried. I was considering breaking my own first rule as The Fixer: Never initiate a physical confrontation with the mark. In other words, don't hit first. I really wanted to break that rule, because I really wanted to break Doe's nose.

MB sat up, her hair and clothes disheveled, her eye make-up running. "I don't want to marry you, okay?" she shouted. "I just want you to help me. I don't know what to do." Then she dissolved into sobs again.

Doe watched her for a moment. Then he said, "All right, all right. Here are some tissues. Clean yourself up." He sat on a chair across from her. "What do you need? Do you want to raise this child? Are you prepared to raise it alone, dealing with the disadvantage it was at from the moment of conception? We talked about that."

"I'm not ready to raise a child. That was supposed to be years away for me," she said.

"Are you prepared to bear this child and then give it away?" the Rev asked.

"I don't know. John, what should I do?"

"You need to see a doctor. This doctor," Doe said.

She read the business card he had handed her. "Who is he?"

"A friend. We go back a long way. Call him tomorrow, tell his secretary that the Rev sent you. They'll see you and take care of everything. I'll send him the money."

"What do you mean when you say they'll take care of everything?" Cho-cho asked.

"Wait for it," Monica whispered on our open feed.

"They'll take care of you. They'll make you as comfortable as possible while they deal with your problem," Doe said.

"Deal with my problem," Cho-cho repeated.

"Yes, you stupid little slut! Your problem, with that accursed child in your filthy womb. They're very competent at abortions."

"Abortions?" Cho-cho gasped.

"Yes! Abortions! What did you think I was going to suggest you do, you idiot? Go there and let them get rid of it. I'll pay for everything, with one hundred thousand dollars on top of it if you will just go away," Doe said.

"That's a wrap, gang! I love it when a plan comes together." I said. A few seconds later, MB started to laugh when she heard the knock on the dressing room door.

* * * * * * * * * *

"For the latest on this breaking story, we go to our man on the scene," the news anchorwoman said. "Hymie?"

"Thanks, Madelyn. Good evening, this is Hymie Goldblatt, reporting live across the road from the entrance to 'God's Land', the compound which until last week was the home of televangelist John Doe and his wife. That was before scandalous information was leaked from an anonymous source casting some doubt on Doe's character.

"You see behind me a number of moving vans exiting the compound. This comes on the heels of the explosive events of yesterday when Missy Doe, Reverend Doe's wife of thirty years, appeared on stage during a live broadcast of Does' ministry to accuse him of infidelity and demand a divorce. We have heard unconfirmed reports that Mrs. Doe, who actually owns this property and the studios where Doe's weekly telecast is filmed, has been speaking with realtors about the possibility of listing them for sale."

"Thank you, Hymie," the anchorwoman said. "We'll have more news, after this message."