Date: Thu, 09 Sep 2021 11:22:05 +0000 From: Wes Leigh Subject: Under Siege, Chapters 29 & 30 (Gay Adult/Youth) UNDER SIEGE By Wes Leigh Editing by SkyBorn This is a work of fiction intended solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance to any real people or places is purely coincidental. This story is the property of the author and is protected by copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. If you enjoy this story, please support the Nifty archives today with a thoughtful donation. Chapter 29 Confrontation and Culmination "You're sure about this?" I nodded. Frank Turner, my newly-retained lawyer, looked back at the list I had given him. He slowly shook his head. "Mr. Turnbull, I know you're paying me to make a few phone calls, but I have an ethical responsibility to give you sound legal advice as well. If you do this, you can expect some serious pushback from these people." I nodded again. "I understand. But I'm not letting them off the hook." Frank pointed at the list. "These guys will fight you in court, but these--" he tapped the list--"they'll probably bring criminal charges against you in retaliation." "More ammunition for my lawsuits," I replied. "That's going to be very hard to prove. You and I will know they're retaliating. Anyone with any common sense will know it too. But proving it in court will be next to impossible." I shrugged. "I intend to try anyway, Frank. They've attacked me. Now I'm going after them." He took a deep breath and blew it out. "Then let's get started." He paged through the contacts on his phone until he found the number he wanted and dialed it. "Hello, Bob? ... yes, it's Frank Turner ... good, good, and yourself ... yes, she loves her job too much to quit, haha, and how are Barbara and the girls? ... really? ... that's terrific ... well, Bob, the reason I'm calling is to give you a head's up, professional courtesy, you know. I've been retained by a client who is filing suit against you guys ... Jake Turnbull ... well, Jake claims one of your police officers used his position as a school resource officer to harass him and to send Child Protective Services to his home as harassment as well ... no, we're going to show that the CPS referral was made under false pretenses ... right ... no, Bob, not yet, but I'll be working with my client to determine damages and then we'll know how much we're suing for ... right ... certainly ... I'll be in touch, Bob ... you too, goodbye." Frank looked at me. "Okay, Jake, the city knows you intend to sue them. Let's call the great State of Texas and inform them of their impending legal jeopardy." *** By noon, I had informed all my opposition of my intent to fight back. The city. Because one of their policeman--Officer Pete Danlee--allegedly abused his position as a school resource officer with Mesa Middle School to harass and intimidate me by filing false reports with Child Protective Services which resulted in multiple invasions of my home. The state. Because employees of their Child Protective Services office--Ms. Sandra Moore and Director Bartholomew Matthews--allegedly used their official positions with a state agency to harass and intimidate me by making multiple visits to my home without cause or foundation and with filing fraudulent information with the courts in obtaining search warrants to force entry into my home and with violating the state's trespassing laws during one such visit. The county. Because officers in their Sheriff's department--Deputy Jack Calhoon and Deputy Eli Anderson--allegedly violated state trespassing laws while accompanying Child Protective Services employees during a fraudulent child welfare check. I thought about adding the school and that old bitch Roberta Haskin to my allegations, but I couldn't see a point in it. After all, I'd made my intentions pretty clear. I was going to fight them in court. I was going to tear down the walls of bureaucracy with my bare hands. I was going to root out and destroy corruption wherever I found it along with whoever was spreading it. I was going to fight until my last dime was spent in my just and glorious cause. What they didn't know is I had used my last dime to hire Frank Turner to make those telephone calls for me. The ball was now in their court. *** Monday afternoon, Marie Canton visited Mesa Middle School and talked to Roberta Haskin. Marie informed Roberta that no one--absolutely no one--was to be allowed to pick up her son, Joshua Canton, except Marie. In particular, she wanted to ensure that a neighbor by the name of Jake Turnbull was not allowed to see, talk to, or pick up Joshua. Being the nosy busybody she was, Roberta asked why. Marie was somewhat vague in her answer, simply stating that she didn't want Josh having anything to do with Mr. Turnbull anymore. Tuesday morning, Dr. Terence Carter-Moore, made amazing progress in befriending young Joshua Canton during their weekly counseling sessions. It seemed that Joshua now trusted Dr. Terence and was beginning to realize that he was simply trying to help. Joshua was also less defensive about his personal life and confided in Dr. Terrence that some of the other kids were bugging him at school, calling him names. Dr. Terrence was very sympathetic and wanted to know what kind of names they used. Joshua told him. Dr. Terrence was properly concerned and wondered why the kids would say such horrible things. Joshua was somewhat vague in his answer, simply stating that he hated having people think he was doing something wrong with someone he loved. Wednesday morning, I was waiting on some customers when I heard the intercom blaring, "Jake Turnbull, report to the manager's office. Jake Turnbull, to the manager's office please." I ignored the page and finished the sale. As I was loading the purchase in a cart, I saw Janice, my boss, walking toward me followed by a guy in a suit. She waited until my customers were on their way to the check-out before asking, "Did you hear my page?" "Yes. I was in the middle of helping those folks and couldn't break away." "Uh huh," she said with a frown. "Jake, this is Detective Robert Salas with the city police department. He's asking to talk to you." I turned to the man in the suit. "Det. Salas, if this is in regard to the lawsuit I'm filing against the city, my attorney is Frank Turner. I would prefer you talk to him. I don't want my employer--" I nodded at Janice-- "to have any reason to think I'm not giving her 100 percent when I'm on the clock." Salas shook his head. "I'm not here about a lawsuit, Mr. Turnbull. I'm a detective, not a lawyer. I've been assigned to investigate allegations of criminal misconduct. I have a few questions I'd like to ask you." "Really?" I asked. I took a store business card out of my shirt pocket and wrote on the back. "Here's my cell phone number, Det. Salas. I'll be happy to talk to you when I get off at two, but at the moment, I'm at work, and I give the company my full and undivided attention when I'm on the clock." Janice didn't like my answer apparently. "I'll authorize a 15-minute break, Jake. Go ahead and talk to Det. Salas." I shrugged. "Yes, ma'am." "You can use my office," she added. I nodded and headed to the back of the store with Janice and Det. Salas following close behind. Once we reached Janice's office, she ushered us inside and left, closing the door behind her. We sat down, and I looked at the police detective. "What's this all about?" "I'd like to ask you a few questions." "Regarding?" He took out a small notepad and flipped it open. "You are Jake Turnbull and your address is 23 Dogleg Road?" I held up my hand. "Det. Salas, before you begin asking me a lot of questions, you haven't answered MY question. What is this regarding?" He blinked in surprise. I suppose he wasn't accustomed to his victims fighting back. "I thought I'd made that clear, Mr. Turnbull. I'm investigating allegations of criminal misconduct." "What are these allegations, Det. Salas?" He flipped back a page in his notepad. "Sexual contact with a minor. Contributing to the delinquency of a minor." "And who are these allegations against?" "Well ... you, Mr. Turnbull." "Then I have nothing to say." "It will give you a chance to clear your name, Mr. Turnbull. Tell your side of the story." "I have no need to clear my name, Det. Salas. I've done nothing wrong." "Then there's no reason not to talk to me. I can take your statement, and that will be that. Otherwise, we're going to have to do a lot more digging, bothering you at home and at work. Why not just take care of it right now and be done with it?" He was persistent. I had to give him that. "Look, Detective, I know you're just doing your job. But I also know that detectives never talk to people to `get the other side of the story.' Your job is to fish for any incriminating evidence you can find. You're not trying to help me out or prove I'm innocent. You're trying to find any scrap of information that will support future charges against me. We both know that. So even though I'm telling you I did nothing wrong, your job is to find something, anything, to use against me. And I'm just not interested in playing that game." He closed his notebook and put it away. "Okay, Mr. Turnbull. I have your phone number. I'm sure you'll be hearing from me again." "No, sir, I won't be hearing from you again. I mentioned a lawsuit against the city. I'll be adding this visit today to that lawsuit. If you or anyone else from your department attempts to call me or see me, whether at home or at work, I will consider that harassment and intimidation and an attempt to make me drop my lawsuit. It will not work, but it will give me evidence I can use against you." He stood up. "Good day, Mr. Turnbull." He held out his hand to shake. I stood up and walked to the door, ignoring his hand. I opened the door and said, "Good day, Det. Salas. This had better be the last time I talk to you." I walked out and left him standing there. *** Thursday afternoon, Janice paged me to her office again. I had no customers, so I couldn't justify ignoring her this time. I walked to the back of the store and knocked on her door. I heard a muffled "Come in." I walked inside. Janice asked to close the door and take a seat. She didn't look happy at all. "Jake, when I hired you two years ago, I was willing to take a chance on you despite your criminal record." I nodded. "I'm very grateful for that, Janice. That's why I work so hard for you." "I appreciate that, Jake. I really do. You were honest with me when you hired on. You told me about your past and the sex offender registration requirements. And up until now, it hasn't gotten in the way of your work." "Up until now?" I asked. Janice sighed. "Jake, although we have children in the store from time to time, you've never given us any reason to worry about your interactions with the customers. But now, we're concerned that you may have some legal trouble OUTSIDE of work that will affect you here on the job." "I don't know what you're talking about, Janice. What legal trouble?" "Jake, the district attorney has notified us that they believe there are sufficient grounds to charge you with several crimes. Once those crimes are made public, our reputation as a store will take a serious hit. We can't afford that, Jake." "What are you saying, Janice?" She frowned and leaned back, crossing her arms. "I have to let you go, Jake. I don't want to. You're an excellent employee. But my hands are tied. I'm authorizing a month's severance pay. It's the best I can do, Jake. I'm very sorry." I sat in my chair, staring at her. "You're serious? You're firing me because of ALLEGATIONS?" She leaned back. "I have no choice, Jake. I'm doing the best I can for you, but as of today, you are no longer employed here." I took off my employee badge and tossed it on her desk. There really wasn't anything more to say. *** I took the severance check to my bank and deposited it. Then I drove home. Three county sheriff SUV's were parked on the shoulder of the road in front of my house. They waited for me to park my truck, then asked me to step out of my vehicle and place my hands behind my head. Chapter 30 Love Means Never Having to Say Goodbye and Other Vapid Cliches "Hello." "Marie. It's Jake. I'm using my `one phone call' from the county jail." A resigned sigh. "Oh, Jake." "Do you have the dogs? How are they?" "They're good. Josh brought them over here as soon as the deputies left." "Thank you." "Anything else you need, Jake?" "No. Thanks for taking care of the dogs." "When will you get out?" "They're not letting me out, Marie." "Are you sure, Jake?" "My bond hearing will be Monday morning. They might surprise me, but I'm fairly sure I know what will happen. They'll set my bond so high that I can't get out. So I'm stuck in here until the trial." "I'm so sorry to hear that, Jake." "Well, it's not all bad news, Marie. My boss gave me $1500 severance pay. Use what you need." "I won't need it." "Please, Marie. Use my bankcard. That's why I gave it to you." Marie paused. "Alright, Jake. When do I call your landlord?" "After the bond hearing." "Jake ... we're ... we're praying for you." I took a moment to wipe the tears from my eyes. "Thank you. You know what I want you to tell him." "Yes. He knows. And he would want you to know the same thing." "Thanks, Marie. For everything." "You're welcome, Jake." "Goodbye." "Bye." *** The chief district attorney decided to show up for the bond hearing. Ms. Gabrielle Mendoza herself. She was a political climber with aspirations for the governor's seat and more. Yes, I knew Mendoza wouldn't be able to resist taking a case like this. For her, the political mileage she'd gain from putting away a sexual predator would be invaluable. She was dressed impeccably, in a dark gray business suit with just enough feminine touches to remind everyone that she was still a lady, even though she had bigger testicles than all the men in the room put together. She had my files in front of her on the table. Apparently my case warranted a stack eight inches high. But she didn't need those files. No. She spoke from memory, and I was impressed with how much of my personal data she was able to rattle off without looking at her notes. "Mr. Turnbull is a registered sexual offender, your Honor. He is accused of one count of sexual contact with a minor, age 13 to 17, and one count of contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Police are still investigating, your Honor, so we anticipate additional counts will be added in the near future." The judge was Braydon C. Birmingham the Third, a veritable pillar of the community and so rusty with age they probably had to oil him every morning just so he could walk from his chambers to the courtroom. His voice rasped, "Is there evidence for additional counts?" "There is, your Honor. The minor child in question is undergoing psychiatric evaluation, and we anticipate a breakthrough within two weeks on the details of the molestation. We also have photographic evidence of contact between the defendant and the victim--" "Alleged victim, your honor," my attorney interrupted, surprising everyone in the courtroom, including me. We had spoken when I arrived in the courtroom, but I wasn't impressed with him. Honestly, I thought he was there just for show. He was a court-appointed public defender, a harried young man with dozens of cases in his briefcase, trying to keep up with all his clients and thereby failing to do very much for any of them. "My client denies the charges, denies sexual contact with the victim. Prosecution would have us believe the case is tried and a conviction has been handed down before we've even begun." Mendoza stared at my lawyer. Score one for the good guys. She looked back at the judge. "We have photographic evidence showing the accused with the ALLEGED victim on dozens of occasions, your Honor. Some of those photographs show him in compromising positions with the ALLEGED victim. Furthermore, the accused has a long history of molesting children. He was convicted of these same charges, with an 11-year-old male victim, approximately 10 years ago." Score one for the bad guys. "I am confident we will be bringing additional counts, your Honor." "Very well," Judge Birmingham wheezed, "Is the accused a flight risk?" "Given the seriousness of the charges, we believe he is, your Honor." My lawyer spoke up again. "Your Honor, my client has been an upstanding member of this community for two years. He has a home here. Since he arrived, he has obeyed all the laws including the sex offender registration requirements. He obtained a job as a salesman for a do-it-yourself center and has worked hard to earn everyone's trust and respect." Mendoza wasn't budging. "Your Honor, the records show that the accused has been diligent in meeting the sexual offender registration requirements, but he has also been deceptive. He did not reveal his status as a sexual offender to his neighbors, particularly the family of his alleged victim. Regarding his employment with the do-it-yourself center, he was fired yesterday when these charges became public knowledge. We will be in touch with his employer to determine if any misbehavior while at work contributed to his firing. If other victims are identified, we will of course bring additional charges. The bottom line, your Honor, is we believe he has NOT been an upstanding member of the community. Rather he has been putting on a front, biding his time until he could find his next victim." Ouch. That one hurt. The judge scribbled on a notepad in front of him for a few seconds, then growled, "Given the seriousness of the charges, the possibility of future charges, and the fact that the accused is unemployed and a possible flight risk, I'm inclined to deny bond. Does the defense object?" "Yes, your Honor. These future charges are a red herring. If Prosecution had the evidence to present additional counts, they would have done so. This bond hearing should only address the two counts they've brought. Defense notes that bond for these two counts would typically be $10,000 and $500 respectively. We ask the court to set bond at $10,500 with a 10% security." Mendoza went into overdrive. "The severity of the charges warrant a higher bond, your Honor. We are also concerned that the accused lives within 1000 feet of the alleged victim. If he is allowed to bond out, it would create undue hardship on the alleged victim and his family. That is IF--and it's a big IF, your Honor--IF he doesn't flee the state. Given the nature of the charges against him and the fact that he would be a repeat offender for the same charges, we believe he will avoid prosecution at all costs." "I'm inclined to agree with the Prosecution," rasped his Honor. "But in all fairness to the accused, he should be given an opportunity to bond out in order to prepare for his trial. Bond is set at $30,000, 10% secured." He firmly tapped the gavel. Well, there it was. I could bond out if I came up with 10 percent of the amount, or a piffling $3,000. I had $1700 in the bank at the moment, thanks to Janice's generous severance pay. $3000 or $3,000,000, it would make no difference, and I'm sure the judge knew that when he set the bond. Yeah, I wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. *** "Turnbull, you have a visitor." I put down my cards. "Sorry, guys." My cell mates didn't seem bothered. There was nothing to do but watch TV and play cards. They'd wait for me to return before finishing the hand. I walked to the door of the cell block and waited for it to buzz and click open. I stepped through and shut it behind me. Another loud click as it locked. I walked down the short hallway to another locked door. More buzzing and clicking. I pushed through into a longer hallway. At the other end was still another door and a much longer wait. Finally it buzzed and I pushed it open. The officer running visitation was a kind, grandmotherly type. She nodded in a friendly way and said, "Number three, Mr. Turnbull." I walked over to door number three and opened it. Inside was a narrow cubicle with a chair, a phone on the wall, and a large, plexiglass window looking into a similar cubicle on the other side. I saw Marie sitting there, waiting for me. I sat in the chair and took the phone off the hook. Marie did the same on her side. We waited for a few seconds and heard, "All conversations may be monitored or recorded." Then there was dead silence for a moment, and the phones connected. "Hello, Marie." "Hi, Jake." "How is everyone?" "The dogs are fine. They get two walks a day. He's planning to make it three times on Saturdays and Sundays." I chuckled. "He's spoiling them." "Yes. They're loving it." "How is he?" "Miserable. Lonely. But we talk every night and that seems to help. How are you?" "Miserable. Lonely. But I ask God to take care of those I love and that seems to help." She nodded. "How was the bond hearing?" "It was what I expected. Bond is $30,000. If I come up with $3000, I can get out." "Do you have it?" "No." "I can ask my mom for a loan. She might be able to help." I shook my head. "There's no point, Marie. It's money we'd never see again. As soon as I bonded out, the D.A. would add additional charges and they'd arrest me again and set an even higher bond." She nodded. "Alright. Then ... your house?" "Grab my personal belongings. Clothes, towels, linens, dishes. The rest is the landlord's. He furnished the house for an extra $100 a month." "Okay, we'll pick up all your things. Then I tell your landlord?" "Yes. He'll probably keep the security deposit. That's okay." "Josh and I will store your stuff in our spare room. And we'll bring your truck over." "Thank you, Marie. You're the best!" "I know." She gave me a smirky grin. I smiled then said, "Tell him I refuse to say goodbye. He'll understand." She nodded and smiled sadly. "And you understand that he will never say goodbye." I squeezed my eyes shut. "I know, Marie. Thank you." "You're welcome, Jake." She hung up the phone and left. I sat there for a minute to collect myself. Marie was a terrific woman. I knew she'd take care of my dogs and all my personal belongings as well as handling my affairs for me. I had no one else to turn to, but I couldn't think of anyone I would trust more. I was really fond of her. If I wasn't so in love with her son ... End of UNDER SIEGE, Chapter 30