You Know You Want to Watch

I never touched a single one of them, I swear.

The freshly mowed athletic field glistened with dew in the early morning light. It was going to be a glorious day, Jane thought as she patiently waited for her girls to form up. As her championship girls' soccer team gathered in their matching blue and gold warm-up suits, they all stood facing her, waiting for the morning's instructions. But Jane could sense they weren't actually looking at her, rather beyond her to something or someone looming behind her.

Jane turned to see what was so fascinating. To her surprise was Jim Lassiter, the university's athletic director, approaching at a brisk pace with two other people she'd never seen before. Fully turning to face them head-on, she tucked her clipboard into her armpit and placed her hands on her hips in a 'hey, you're interrupting me here' stance.

As they approached, Lassiter spoke first, "Jane, we need to see you in my office immediately."

"Jim, we're just about to start practice here -- can't it wait?" Jane responded indignantly, but with a slight hint of fear sensing the seriousness in his voice.

Jane stood for a second pondering her options before turning to her assistant and saying as she handed her the clipboard, "Take over Kaitlyn, warm 'em up, I'll be right back." She only had a mild respect for Jim Lassiter in the first place. After all, he was male, and what did he know about woman's soccer? And besides, Jane was not the type of person to take direction from any authority figure, much less one in a suit. She was the authority around here, and everyone that had to deal with her knew it.

As they briskly walked off the practice field and through the athletic building to Lassiter's office, Jane couldn't help but notice that the two individuals accompanying them were staying several steps behind her, but very close. Maybe too close for Jane's comfort. Who were they, she thought -- cops maybe? They kind of looked like cops. One was a big burly male, and the other was female, perhaps only five-foot-four, but not petite and clearly in pretty good physical shape.

Both were wearing what Jane considered 'cheap suits,' with open collars and bulges along one side of their beltline. They could have both been carrying guns, which with every step further convinced her they were both very likely cops.

As the four of them entered the Athletic Director's suite, every pair of eyes silently watched as they headed straight towards Lassiter's office. Once inside his office, Jim motioned for Jane to sit down as the big burly guy closed the door and took a position behind the chair Jane was sitting in. The woman took the seat next to Jane. Jim sitting behind his massive oak desk, placed both hands on the desk pad and said, "Jane, this is detective Wilcox," glancing at the woman sitting next to her, "and detective Logan," looking toward the big guy standing behind her.

Jane gulped hard. She had absolutely no forewarning that this day was coming, but she did have a pretty good idea why they were there. "Well, what can I do for you?" she asked as a bead of sweat began to appear on her brow.

"Ms. Lehman," the female detective started.

"Oh please, no one has called me that in twenty years. It's Coach Lehman -- or just simply coach," Jane said as she began to squirm in her chair.

"Coach Lehman," detective Wilcox continued, pulling a folded legal document from her inside jacket pocket. "We have a warrant here to search your office, your car, and your home; additionally, to seize all computers, cameras, cell phones, and all other electronic devices in your possession."

"A warrant," Jane stuttered. Sweat was now visibly forming on her brow, her stomach started flopping around like a fish out of water, and suddenly she had to pee. "What did I do -- I mean, what do you think I did?"

Detective Wilcox continued, "Coach Lehman, I'll get straight to the point; we have convincing evidence that you placed or caused to be placed video cameras throughout the women's locker room and showers. And that you have secretly been recording your students, as well as others, without their knowledge or consent. Further, we believe you have stored these images over an extended period of time and that you have shared these images with select friends for the purpose of sexual gratification."

Jane knew it was true, but how in the hell did they find out? Who ratted her out? She sat motionless for several seconds before blurting out, "That's ridiculous -- that's a lie." She knew it wasn't, but her competitive nature had always conditioned her to take the offense.

Sweat was now visibly starting to roll down her temple, and she began turning a ghostly white. Her entire career flashed before her eyes. But she had to stay strong -- she had to salvage as much as possible.

Jim Lassiter and Detective Wilcox both stood up. Jim spoke first, "Coach, the evidence is pretty compelling. You are hereby suspended indefinitely -- at least until this matter is cleared up."

Jane slowly stood and almost immediately felt Detective Logan grab her arms and pull them to her back. Wilcox turned to face her and said, "Jane Lehman, you are under arrest for unauthorized photography and the promotion of pornography."

Jane could now feel the cold steel of the handcuffs tightening around her wrists as Wilcox continued, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

Jane had never felt so vulnerable in her life. She was always the one that dished it out. She was the one always in control. For God's sake, she was the tough bull dyke. She didn't cry; she made others cry -- this was so surreal she was left speechless with tears starting to leak from her eyes. The last time she can remember crying was thirty years ago in elementary school when she got hit in the face by a soccer ball so hard it almost broke her nose. She was seven years old, and her face was covered in blood; it was okay to cry then -- but not now. She had to be strong!

Being led to the police car in handcuffs was the most humiliating and indignant thing to ever happen to her. If she ever got out of this, how was she going to face these people again? But she was guilty, and she knew it. Who in the fuck ratted on her -- 'God damn, God damn, God damn -- how could I have been so fucking stupid,' she kept silently repeating over and over to herself?

Once at the police station, Jane was taken to an interrogation room. The handcuffs were taken off, and she was left by herself for a good twenty minutes. But it didn't seem like twenty minutes; it seemed like an eternity. Every scenario ran through Jane's mind; what would happen to her career, what about the team, what about the girls, what would their parents think when they found out? 'Who will pay my bills, will I lose the house?' ran in a continuous loop in her head. But her greatest fear was, 'what's going to happen to Laura?' Laura, her partner for sixteen years, the only person she has ever actually loved.

When the door finally opened, it was Detective Wilcox again. She sat down at the small steel table across from Jane and slapped a yellow legal pad on the table.

"Okay Ms. Lehman, here's what we've got," Wilcox said. "We have evidence that you have been secretly recording girls -- your team's girls -- in the university locker room and showers for several years. And that you collect these video images and replay them for your own sexual gratification as well as that of your partner Laura Emerson. We also have information that you have shown these videos to some of your students and former students. Would you like to comment on these charges?"

Tears welled up again in Jane's eyes. She wiped both sides of her face with the sleeves of her warm-up suit. These charges were true, but she couldn't admit to it. She had to stay strong, she kept telling herself. And did they already have Laura in custody -- and if they did, what has Laura told them?

"Don't I get a lawyer?" Jane finally blurted out. "You said I could have a lawyer -- and don't I get a phone call?"

Wilcox leaned back in her chair. She didn't really want to answer the lawyer question, for once Jane 'lawyered-up' that was it for questioning her. So, she answered the easier question, "Yes, of course, you get a phone call. There is a payphone in the hallway -- you get one free call."

Jane had heard that you can only call landline numbers from a jail phone, so she asked, "Can I call a cell phone from there?"

"No," Wilcox responded, "you can only call a landline."

"I don't know anybody with a landline; how do I call a cell phone?" Jane argued, trying to take more of an offensive stance.

Wilcox reached into her jacket pocket and handed Jane her cell phone. "Make it quick," Wilcox said, "the city doesn't pay my cell phone bill."

Picking up the cell phone and wiping tears again from her eyes, Jane tapped in Laura's phone number as fast as possible. She realized this could be a trick, but what else was she going to do?

Laura's phone went straight to voice mail without ringing, which meant it was turned off. Laura never turns off her cellphone, Jane thought; she probably didn't even know-how. That must mean that the police already have it. Jane's heart sank again. If they have Laura's phone, then they must have Laura. A dark cloud of despair again descended over her.

She had to think. "I have to pee," she suddenly exclaimed. "Can I at least go to the bathroom; I have to pee."

Wilcox knew a stall when she heard one, but she didn't want Jane peeing in the interrogation room. "Yeah, sure," Wilcox said as she stood up. "Let's go."

Jane was relieved that they didn't put the handcuffs back on, but Wilcox did hold her arm as they headed down the hall. Before they reached the ladies' room, Wilcox signaled another female officer to join them. The two cops stood outside the stall as Jane went in.

"Hey, I don't hear any tinkling," the second cop said only seconds after Jane closed the stall door.

"Give her a break," Jane heard Wilcox say.

Jeez, they're doing the 'good cop bad cop' thing in the bathroom, Jane thought to herself. I'm in deeper shit than I thought, she said to herself as she drained her bladder. The revelation did at least make her smile for a minute, but as she blotted herself dry and pulled up her pants, she realized how much trouble she was in and firmly resolved that she needed an attorney.

Back in the interrogation room, Wilcox sat down again with Jane across the table; only this time, she seemed warmer and more interested in helping. "Jane," she said, "I'd like to help you. I'm sure there is just some sort of misunderstanding going on here. But in order to help you, you'll have to tell me your side of the story. Now you know all that I know, so what's your side?"

Jane sat stoically for a moment and then said, "Its coach -- not Jane. Only my friends get to call me Jane."

"Jane, I'm trying to be your friend," Wilcox responded. "But you have to trust me."

"You said I could have an attorney -- I want to see an attorney," Jane said defiantly.

Wilcox indignantly picked up the still blank yellow pad and pushed back from the table, "Okay Ms. Lehman, that is your right. But remember, I tried to help you. And you're not the coach here; you're just a lone player in a very serious game that you're not going to win." And with that, she walked out.

Shortly thereafter, two officers in brown jailer's uniforms came in and took Jane to booking, where she was photographed and fingerprinted. After that humiliation, she was placed in a holding cell along with several other women -- skanky women, Jane thought to herself. They all looked as scared as Jane, and no one spoke to one another; they just huddled in separate corners like stray dogs in the pound, uncertain of their future.

As Jane no longer had her watch or cell phone, she lost all sense of time. But eventually, a jailer called out her name, "Lehman -- Lehman, your lawyer is here."

Jane was led to another room that looked very similar to the interrogation room, but without the obvious video cameras and slightly nicer furniture. After sitting alone for several minutes, in walked a short man with pale skin, horn-rimmed glasses, and slicked-back black hair. He dropped his briefcase on the wooden table and extended his hand in introduction. "Hi, I'm Brad Eschew; I understand you need a lawyer," he said without fully making eye contact.

Jane was somewhat taken back. She didn't know what to expect, but whatever it was, this wasn't it.

"Yes," she said hesitantly as she shook his hand.

He opened his briefcase and started reading from a very thin file. "Okay, I haven't had a chance to read the file yet, so tell me what's going on," he said without looking up.

Jane did not feel comfortable with this guy and wondered if he really was her attorney. "Uh, you're an attorney?" Jane asked, trying to form an opinion of this guy.

"Yes," he said, looking up from the file. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulling out a business card, dropped it on the table in front of her. "I'm from the public defender's office, and I have been assigned your case," he said with little, if any, human emotion.

Jane, still searching and stumbling for words, said, "Well, I was expecting a female lawyer -- this is a female matter -- I'd feel better with a female attorney. Is there one available?"

Brad, now finally making eye contact, glared at her for several seconds. Then picking up his business card and slipping it back into his shirt pocket, let out an audible sigh. "Well, there could be. I'll see what I can do," he said as he stood, walked apathetically for the door, and knocked twice. As a jailer opened the door, he left without another glance or word.

Jane sat there for an indeterminable amount of time, wondering if she had fucked up again or not. But she didn't like that guy, and how could he represent her if she didn't like or trust him, she kept telling herself.

Eventually, there was a soft knock at the door. It immediately opened, and in stepped a young woman with a briefcase similar to Brad's slung over her shoulder. Like Brad, she was slight in stature and wearing a cheap casual business suit. But unlike Brad, she had a smile on her face, and she immediately made eye contact.

She also had two bottles of water in her hand, which she placed on the table next to her briefcase. "Hi," she said cheerfully, "I'm Lisa Benson, and you must be Coach Lehman?"

Jane already liked her a lot better. Not only was she smiling, but she also called her 'coach,' which was already a step in the right direction. "Yes, I'm Jane Lehman, and thank you for addressing me as coach; I appreciate it -- really."

"Okay Coach," Lisa said with a smile. "But if you don't mind, I'll probably just call you Jane going forward if that's alright."

"Yes, of course," Jane responded. "I told the detectives that only my friends get to call me Jane, and I already consider you a friend."

Lisa didn't open her briefcase or take out any file or legal pad; she just opened a water bottle for herself and handing one to Jane, simply said, "Well, thank you."

Jane had not had anything to drink in hours, and the bottled water was much appreciated. After both women satisfied their thirst and Jane finally relaxed enough to recline back in her chair, Lisa said, "Jane, I have not read your file, and I don't know the circumstances of your arrest. However, here is what I've been informed of. The primary charge against you is unlawful photography, which is only a misdemeanor, so I wouldn't be too concerned about that."

"However," Lisa continues, "I heard them discussing sexual battery by an authority figure, and a half dozen other much more substantial charges. All of these are very serious crimes, and all of which could be tried as felonies."

"Do you think they are serious," Jane asks.

"Well, the problem is that state law bans all sexual relationships between educators and students even if the student is of legal age and the relationship is consensual," Lisa answered. "So maybe you should start at the beginning and tell me your side of the story."

Jane sat in total silence for almost a minute. "Okay," she finally said. "I trust you, and I know the only way you can help me is to hear everything. So here goes."

"About six years ago, the university started installing security cameras all over campus; every classroom, every hallway, the library, the commons, all lobbies, and even the parking lots. Over a period of three or four years, they installed cameras in every public space on campus. Every space, of course, except dorm rooms, bathrooms, and locker rooms."

"I understood the dorm rooms and the bathrooms, but over time it occurred to me that there could be security issues in the locker room. Well, maybe not security issues in the traditional sense, but you know things that the coach should be aware of. You know -- things the girls may not want to discuss with me directly, but things I should be aware of."

Jane knew this was primarily bull shit, but she was trying to spin it the best she could.

"Well, I told one of the installers from the security company that I wanted a similar system for my house and that I was pretty sure I could install it myself if he could just show me the basics -- which he did. I then found all of the components on the internet. I bought them on eBay and had them shipped directly to my house. Then over the next several months, I came up to my office at night and on weekends and installed them throughout the locker room. The cameras are all linked to a single Wi-Fi transmitter in the ceiling, and then I can receive an encrypted signal on my laptop through a secure link."

"So, no wires are connecting the cameras to your office," Lisa asked.

"That's right -- there are no wires," Jane quickly responded. "It only went through an encrypted Wi-Fi link; there is no hardline link to my office or to anyone else."

"So," Lisa said slowly, "you were aware that setting up cameras in the girls' locker room was -- let's say inappropriate?"

Jane paused for a moment before responding, "Yes, I knew there was a potential issue," Jane said, looking down at the table.

"So, the original intention wasn't sexual gratification," Lisa asked.

"Oh no," Jane said, picking up on Lisa's spin of the facts.

"Well okay, so tell me then about how and why you stored the tapes," Lisa asked.

"Well -- okay at first, I wasn't going to save them. And they aren't really tapes; they're digital video images," Jane explained.

Lisa nodded that she understood the difference and asked, "Does that mean the images are still encrypted?"

"Well no, if the police get past my computer's log-in, the videos are not protected," Jane said, realizing that she had pretty much left two years' worth of incriminating evidence in plain sight for the police to find.

"Okay, so go on," Lisa said.

"Well -- you know I'm a lesbian, right?"

Lisa nodded.

"Well, I might be gay, but I'm not a pedophile. I am perfectly happy with my partner Laura. We've been together sixteen years, and I've never looked at another woman -- well, I guess I should say I've never touched another woman. But those girls are so cute. Watching them dress and undress, not knowing that anyone was watching, was more of a turn-on than I expected. Besides, I actually know each and every one of them, and this just helps me to know them that much better."

"I could never learn so much about them in any other way. And this way, I get to know them more personally so I can coach them better, train them, and mold them into the championship team they are. I could never get that kind of personal knowledge just talking face-to-face with them. And besides, they are just so fucking cute when they don't know anyone is watching. I mean, they tease each other and play around with each other in the shower. Some of them actually walk around the locker room naked just to show off. So, it's not like they are actually all that insecure. I actually think some of them are amateur exhibitionists."