Date: Sun, 16 Oct 2016 08:50:54 -0700
From: h.schreiber@hushmail.com
Subject: Chapter 34 of Come Christmas Steve

Come Christmas Steve

Chapter 34

It Begins

I lay in bed until early morning thinking about my life. I remembered a
story I'd shared with Steve at Valentine's Day. I'd written a valentine to
Julie Mangelsohn and shared my crush on her. She'd showed it to her friends
and they shared it with some of "cool group" of guys. That's when the
teasing began.

One day, they shoved me into the girl's bathroom after Julie ran in there
and then held the door shut until a teacher came around the corner. The
teacher believed Julie, who claimed I'd chased her in there and had been
bothering her. All the boys denied shoving me in. None of it was true, but
I got three days detention after school for it. Plus, I got extra chores at
home. I was the innocent victim. No one cared.

I remembered the time Billy had been riding my bike and then left it at the
foot of the porch steps where our brother, Karl, tripped over it and
injured his back. I was still being blamed for that. I was innocent. No one
cared.

I recalled several other times I'd been punished for other people's sins
and for things I'd never done but got blamed for. When I had that thought,
I was suddenly overwhelmed with a spiritual revelation.  Tingles
reverberated through my whole frame. "This is a small taste of what Christ
felt" spoke an inaudible voice to my heart and mind. I thought about Pastor
Nichols' sermon on the subject the week before my arrest. I wished Pastor
Nichols was available to talk to. I needed input from someone like him.

I wanted to talk with my dad too. He was so insightful about things and I'd
gotten over my bad feelings I'd foolishly had for him all those teen
years. But there was no one to seek help from. This was all on me.  I was
alone, just like Christ had been. On the cross, he even cried out to his
Father asking why he'd forsaken him. That made me sad.

"Don't leave me alone. Send me some help. I need some help," I implored.

The next morning after breakfast was over, I was taken to the visitor
area. I was glad Adam was early and I could get it over with. When I walked
into the visitation room, I was speechless. It wasn't Adam.

"Hello Shane," Pastor Nichols said. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine, I guess. What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. I was hoping you could tell me. I was awakened shortly after
I fell asleep last night and could not get you out of my mind. I felt
strongly like I needed to come see you. I got in the car and drove all
night. So you tell me, why am I here?"

I started to tear up. "You are so kind. Thank you. I guess I prayed you
here."

He just smiled compassionately and put his hand on my arm.

I haltingly began. I recounted my choices and my conversations with
D.D. and told him how unfair it all was that I had to make such a choice. I
told him I'd decided to take the eight years and wanted a confirmation that
it was the right thing to do. I told him how I hadn't felt any peace with
the decision and how I couldn't stop thinking about his sermon on
Christ. "Christ could have recounted being the Son of God and saved
himself, or at least avoided crucifixion. But he didn't. He was
innocent. I'm innocent. I don't want to cave but if I don't, I could lose
at trial and spend most of my whole life in prison and maybe even get raped
and beaten or even murdered," I said. "What should I do, Pastor?"

"I cannot make that decision for you. If you have prayed and feel confirmed
in your decision, then follow that," he said. "I can tell you that no
earthly judge can impose any sentence on you that matters in the eternal
scope of things. God knows your heart. You and God know your guilt or
innocence. No one else really can. I believe in your innocence, Shane. But
innocent people suffer all the time. Unfairly. Christ is the prime example
of that. We all go through our trials but it's not what happens to us in
this life that matters. How we deal with those trials is what matters. The
experience refines us, makes us harder and stronger. This is a great trial
you have been called on to endure. I can't tell you why, though I'm sure
you've asked God that question many times. Whatever you do, don't let it
turn you away from your faith in God. Let it strengthen you in it. Christ
loves you. Rely on Him."

I thanked him for his words. We talked on for a long time and I shared all
my fears and asked for his blessing that I could be strong and face
whatever was coming my way. He promised to take messages to my parents
about how much I loved them and ensure them I was innocent, even if I took
the deal. He also promised to write to Steve for me and let him know what
was happening. He prayed for me and I felt the power of God's love
overwhelm me as he did. A rush of warmth coursed through my body. He held
me and I cried one last time like a small boy. He cried with me. I composed
myself as best I could and shuffled back to the cell.

D.D. asked if I was okay. I said I was but wanted to be alone with my
thoughts. He respected that. I climbed down and went over to the celly with
the good voice. "Can you sing that song again? The one you sang earlier?"

"Innocent man?" he asked.

"Yeah, that one. Who's it by?"

"Billy Joel," he said. Then he began. The last three verses overwhelmed me.

Some people run from a possible fight Some people figure they can never win
And although this is a fight I can lose The accused is an innocent man Oh
yes I am An innocent man

You know you only hurt yourself out of spite I guess you'd rather be a
martyr tonight That's your decision But I'm not below Anybody I know If
there's a chance of resurrecting a love I'm not above going back to the
start To find out where the heartache began

Some people hope for a miracle cure Some people just accept the world as it
is But I'm not willing to lay down and die Because I am an innocent man

I am an innocent man Oh yes I am An innocent man

"Thanks," I said when he finished. He smiled.

When the time came that afternoon to meet with Adam and share my decision,
I had a heavy heart. I was walking to my own Garden of Gethsemane and I had
my own cup to drink. Not like the Savior's by any means, but bitter enough
for a simple mortal like me.

Adam was seated at the desk with a legal document spread out on it. He
looked up at me as I was escorted in. "You don't look so good. You been
getting any sleep?"

"Not much," I admitted. "This decision has been keeping me up nights."

"Understandable. Sit down. This is the plea agreement. I can go over it in
detail or I can summarize it for you," Adam said.

"Just summarize it," I answered while sitting down.

"Good. The bargain is for eight years at FCI Englewood in Colorado. It is a
low security prison, not like where Steve and Todd are, but definitely
better than a standard medium or high security facility. They have a SOMP
program there," Adam began.

I broke in, "Sex Offender Management Program."

"Yes. How did you know that?" Adam asked.

"My celly educated me on some things. Including on how to stay alive as an
SO or chomo in the house," I answered.

"I see. Was it educational?" Adam asked.

"Very," I confirmed.

"How much do you know about it?" Adam asked.

"I know that if you are a sex offender and get sent to one of the ten
places that have one of these programs, there's a lot higher percentage of
sex offenders in the prison population so the guards are pretty used to
dealing with SO's, which makes it sort of safer," I answered.

"That's right. There are no guarantees that something bad won't happen, but
the odds are definitely better than another prison."

"My celly also said that if you participate in that program, you can get
some time off your sentence. Is that true?" I asked.

"Normally, yes. In your case, no. It is a stipulation in this plea that you
will not be eligible for parole, or any early release. You have to do all
eight. Sorry," Adam replied. My heart sank. I'd been hoping for that time
off thing to be true.

"What are my chances, if I fight this thing and lose, that I could still
get sent to one of these ten places that have a SOMP?" I asked.

"It could happen. More and more, they are trying to do that. The problem is
that the SO population is exploding with all the pornography convictions
these days, so they are horribly overcrowded.  Englewood is rated for 1151
prisoners and today it houses 1149. You will make 1150. See the issue?"

"Yeah. So it's possible, just not guaranteed?" I asked.

"Yes. But that's a sizable risk. Did your celly educate you on what happens
if you don't go to one of these types of facilities?" Adam asked.

"Definitely. He made it crystal clear. It's pretty sickening," I said. "He
even included an object lesson."

"What does that mean?" Adam asked.

"It means that after bed check, he forcibly stripped my clothing off me and
pulled me to the bed where he prepared to fuck me. He said it was tuition
payment for the education he'd given me. But he didn't really do it. He
just wanted to show me how it happens. He just wanted to scare me."

"Good," Adam said.

"Good?" I asked.

"Yes. Good that he educated you and good that he scared you. You need to be
scared. It's for real, Shane."

"Oh. I think I know that by now. You've told me enough fucking times! I
just can't get over how unfair it all is," I grumbled.

"I know. It is unfair. I want to fight it too, but I can't in good
conscience recommend it any more. I don't think we can win with what we've
got," Adam counseled. "Any more questions?"

"Can people visit me there?" I asked.

"Of course. And that's why I wanted Englewood. It's the closest option to
your parents," Adam explained.

"That's good. Pastor Nichols came to see me this morning," I said.

"I know. I had to give permission for him to get in," Adam told me. "Was it
good for you to see him?"

"Yes. It was. I needed it. We talked about how bad things can happen to
good and innocent people. He likened it to what Christ went
through. Falsely accused and lied about. I could tell that he agreed I
should probably take the plea deal and accept my fate. He said I may come
out a better person from it all somehow."

"I agree with him," Adam said.

"What about the sex offender list? Will I be put on that after I get out?"
I asked.

"Yes. Not negotiable. The hair brush rape and posting of it on the internet
aspect of Colt's case is insurmountable for keeping you off the list. I'm
sorry. But only for ten years if you behave yourself."

"Steve said that's like a life sentence. You can't live anywhere because of
children and schools and, and, and. You can't get a job. You have that
stigma wherever you go," I said. "A modern day leper."

"That's true. But it's better than being dead."

"Is it?" I pondered.

"To me it would be," Adam answered.

"Okay, where do I sign?" I asked picking up Adam's expensive pen.

"Right here," Adam pointed.

"By the way, it doesn't really matter now, but I did remember something
about Colt when he was naked in my room. He had a small scab just above his
penis. He was rubbing it when I was yelling at him."

"I know that. At least, I knew it was there. It was in the doctor's
report. Odd that he was touching it. But yes, it is a moot point since you
are taking the plea."

I reached down to sign and there was a small black dot where I was about to
begin my signature. I paused and it moved. A small black mite scurried left
then right, uncertain how to escape the looming risk of my pen stroke. I
pulled back.

Adam saw and reached out with his index finger to squish the tiny bug for
me. I dropped the pen and grasped his wrist, staying his hand. "Why are you
going to kill it? What great crime did it commit to be worthy of
execution?" I snapped.

Adam pulled his hand back and stammered. "Nothing, I suppose. I just
thought ..."

"You just thought it was a tiny bug, not useful and unimportant and it was
just in our way. Kind of like me. You know what? I may be just a useless
mite to everyone. But I'm a mighty mite. I'm not going to give up without a
fight. I'm not signing this! If I lose and go to some hellish prison then
so be it! At least I go with my honor and courage intact. Fuck them! Fuck
them all! I didn't do it. I'm not going to say I did. I am an innocent
man. Oh yes, I am. I am an innocent man!" I leaned down and lifted the
document slightly and blew the little mite off the paper and onto the
table. Then I took the papers in my hands and ripped them in half. "Tell
them no fucking deal. And, I want to testify."

Adam looked heartsick. "Shane, don't overreact. You're emotional. Don't
make an emotional and rash decision here. You had a rational decision made
when you came in the room. I'm sorry I triggered your raw emotions with the
bug, but that's not a reason to throw away this deal. The alternative is
very, very bad. Please calm down and reconsider. I can have a new document
drawn up. Please take the deal," Adam begged.

"No. No, I'm not going to," I answered. "No way. I'm innocent. Final
answer." A rush of warmth reverberated through my body when I said that and
the inaudible words came to my mind, "Trust in me, Shane. Trust in me."

It was Him. It was His voice. It was God or Christ or an angel from God or
whoever had been speaking to me in my head and it filled me with
peace. Real peace. The kind of peace that made you free even within the
walls of a prison.

I pushed my chair back, "No, Adam. I'm fighting this. Do your best, but if
we lose, it's not on you. It's on me. I know that you have been doing all
you can and will continue to do your best to free me. I know the cards are
stacked against me, but I have to fight this. I will take whatever comes
and deal with it. I don't want the plea deal. I want freedom. I want
justice. I want the truth. The truth will make me free, Adam.  Only the
truth will make me free. And if it doesn't, at least I will know the truth
and God will know the truth and that will keep me free even if they lock me
up, beat the shit out of me every single day, rape my ass, and even if they
kill me. I'll die in innocence, just like Christ."

"You're not Christ. This is not rational. Please, Shane. Don't throw away
this chance for a deal," Adam implored once more.

"No!"

Adam sighed. "All right. I'll push for a trial date. May as well get this
carnage over with. I just want to make absolutely sure that you realize
there is no going back. This decision is final when I walk out of here."

"I know that. Fight it," I said firmly, confidently. I felt peace. I felt
good. I felt liberated.

Adam sighed, gathered up the torn document and his pen and left without
another word. He was upset.  I think he was worried about losing and he
didn't want to lose. I think he didn't want to lose because he was a
competitor but also because he had grown fond of me. I was fond of him. I
had to let him know that I would not hold him accountable if we lost. It
was my folly for not taking his deal. And it would be me living with the
consequences.

When I got back in my cell, D.D. wanted an update. "I rejected the deal," I
said. "I'm fighting it."

"You gonna regret that, bumpkin. Least you can't say ol' D.D. didn't warn
you. Better try and score some kind of lubricant early on when you arrive
at the house, cuz your pink ass is gonna get jack-hammered."

"No shit!" One of the other celly's said. "You'll be drinking your dinner
from a straw and shitting your pants from your stretched-out boy pussy in
the first two weeks. You're in for a long dance with the devil kid. A long,
slow dance. Not that I give a shit, really. All you chomo's should have
your balls nailed to the floor and handed a dull knife as far as I'm
concerned."

I didn't respond. There was no need to. I knew I was probably in for
it. Just like Christ knew. I understood then, why Christ hadn't responded
to his accusers. Why should he? He was in the right. He was innocent. I was
in the right. I was innocent. I knew it and God knew it, but nothing I
could say would convince the haters otherwise, so why bother?

The next week was nerve wracking. Then one morning, a staffer showed up
with a grey dress suit for me to put on. My teacher, D.D., had already left
a few days earlier to start his fiver. He wished me luck and said I'd need
it as he'd left. He whistled a happy tune on his way out. I dressed in my
suit and was soon escorted off to the shuttle.

I waited most of the morning in the holding cell at the courthouse. I was
starving by the time they came for me around 11:30. I was ushered in to
meet the judge and start the process. I was nervous, but at peace at the
same time. "Whatever will be will be," I whispered to
myself. "Trust. Trust."

"So, we couldn't come to an agreement, I see," the judge said right off the
bat. "Disappointing. Well, let's see what you've got, Mr. Thompson."

The federal prosecutor stood and outlined the various charges against
me. He started with little Daniel's case from Yellowstone. He laid out the
evidence. There was hotel security video footage, photos of the hotel room,
hall and bathroom being presented as evidence. The desk clerk, Daniel's
mother, Wesley Jensen from the dorms, Whittaker, and Steve were all
identified as intended witnesses against me. I was confused by that. "Why
is he using Whittaker and Steve for his side?" I whispered to Adam. Adam
just pressed a finger to his lips to shush me.

Daniel's original video deposition was then given to the judge to
watch. Before Adam had a chance to share that Daniel had been coached, the
prosecutor just laid it all out there, knowing it would come out anyway. He
then suggested a revised deposition video be done with the attorneys asking
the questions instead of psychologists. I looked at Adam and he scribbled a
note. "I proposed that change," he wrote.  I nodded. It seemed like a
better idea to me also.

The judge asked Adam's opinion on that and Adam agreed to it, subject to a
stipulation that if the parents were allowed to attend, that they had to be
out of the line of sight of Daniel during questioning.  That was agreed to
and a tentative date was set for that to take place.

"Your honor, based on our review of the evidence and in light of the bad
behavior of the state prosecutor's expert, the government is dropping all
charges related to the alleged molestation of Daniel Taylor." I looked over
at Adam but he didn't even flinch. He must have expected it. I almost
cheered.  Then I remembered to keep my courtroom face on and did my best
not to smile.

"However," he continued, "we will continue to pursue the indecent exposure
charge with the special circumstance of a minor child victim." The urge to
smile quickly left me. Still that was something positive to hold onto. It
explained why they still wanted to do another deposition with Daniel.

"Moving on to the Colt Withers portion of the case," the prosecutor said,
"I have produced a long list of evidence and witnesses." He handed the
judge and Adam a copy. Adam flipped through it and I looked over at it
while he did. I was surprised to see how many people were listed. A bunch
of them were people I barely knew. I was actually glad to see Agent Caprino
from the FBI included. He'd always seemed to be on my side. Some of them
had stars by their names. I wondered why. The evidence list was also
interesting. The underwear, Jaime's phone and phone records, computers and
images of Colt, the brush and lotion bottle were among the list of physical
evidence. Shockingly, they were also trying to include the infamous flash
drive from the Uncle Arty case and some images off of that. I couldn't see
any relevance to that at all.

"Anything else?" the judge asked the federal prosecutor.

"No sir," he responded.

"Mr. Christopherson, are you planning on bringing witnesses or evidence to
the preliminary?"

"Not currently, your honor. I do reserve the right to modify that as the
proceedings unfold, however," Adam said.

"Noted and approved," answered the judge. Looking at his schedule, he
penciled in a date. "We'll get started with the witnesses and evidence for
the preliminary hearing on September 25th. That work for everyone?" Both
attorney's responded that it did. It was not even a week away. I was glad.

"Good. This will be a closed hearing because of the age of the
victims. Only the children's guardians will be allowed in the gallery. No
media. I mean it. I will not tolerate leaks and I will punish you severely
if one is linked to you. Understood?" he asked. Both attorneys confirmed
that they got the message.

"Your honor," Adam began. "Being respectful of your desire to keep the
proceedings closed, which we support, my client would like to request a
single exception to that. He would like to have his parents present at the
proceedings."

"I wouldn't be opposed to that," the judge responded, "Mr. Thompson, do you
have any objection to this request?"

The prosecutor paused, considering the question. I had the sense he wasn't
in favor of it, but didn't want to oppose the judge on a seemingly small
matter. Finally, he responded, "No, your honor. No objection."

"Good. Mr. Thompson, I trust you won't need too much time in the
preliminary phase to accomplish your objectives. Do you think you can hold
it to one full day?" the judge asked the prosecutor.

"Certainly sir. My preference as well,"

"Mr. Christopherson, anything you want to add?" the judge asked Adam.

"No sir," he responded.

The judge rapped his gavel and said "Dismissed." Turning to his clerk, he
asked, "What's next?"

Adam and I went to a consultation room and he filled me in on what the
preliminary hearing was all about. He explained that the primary purpose
was to establish that there was sufficient evidence to support the
charges. It was almost always found to be the case. Only rarely did
something get eliminated or reduced, but that did happen on
occasion. Usually it's the judge who modifies it, but in my case, the
prosecutor had already reduced the charges against me regarding Daniel.

"Don't be worried if I don't participate much in the preliminary hearing
next week. Nothing I say or do is going to have much bearing on whether or
not you're charged and bound over for trial. So there's no advantage in
giving away my arguments to the prosecution. I'll wait for trial. It's an
advantage for me to hear what their witnesses say. If I want some
clarification on something, I may ask a few questions, but mostly, I'll
just listen and take notes," Adam explained.

"Okay," I said. "I'm glad it's moving along finally."

"I'm not sure you should be in such a hurry. If the outcome isn't
favorable, you'll wish you were back in the holding facility, I fear," Adam
said bluntly. His words dropped my mood considerably.

The weekend passed and before I knew it, I was dressing in my new suit
again and heading back for my preliminary. It was the same players. The
proceedings started off with playing of the video deposition of little
Daniel. It was handled much better than before. The prosecutor tried to get
Daniel to say he was shocked or frightened by seeing me naked. He also
asked if I tried to touch him or asked him to touch me. Daniel never gave
him any ammunition except to say that I never covered myself or tried to
hide my pee-pee from him.

Adam had done a masterful job of getting Daniel to tell him that he didn't
really think about any of it and had mostly forgotten about it ever
happening. He was his normal, cheery self again. Adam got Daniel say that I
had never touched his pee-pee or his bottom. It seemed like a forgone
conclusion that the Daniel matter would go away completely. The prosecutor
dwelt a lot of the time on the sleigh ride and how I had sat next to him
and had started caroling and how Daniel liked that. Adam just ignored all
of that part. It made no sense.

I thought how ironic it was that I wouldn't even have been in the whole
mess except for that innocent act of kindness and now that would get tossed
out only to put me still at risk on the Colt issue.

They also showed the security camera footage of me in the hallway, and at
the front desk. It showed me jumping the counter and taking the Taylor's
key and then slipping into the Taylor's room again to retrieve my sex bag
and return Mr. Taylor's clothing. Then, I am seen going back into my room
and emerging shortly after to go back down to the party, fully dressed.

"Anything else on this charge?" the judge asked.

"No your honor. That is sufficient for now," the prosecutor responded.

"Anything from you, Mr. Christopherson?" the judge asked.

"No your honor," Adam responded.

Then came the Colt Withers assault portion of the hearing.

Colt took the stand and looked over at his mom and dad who were sitting in
the front row of the gallery.  My parents were sitting on the opposite side
behind our table and it did my heart immense good to see them. I wished I
could have hugged them and spoken with them. But, just seeing them and
seeing the love and support in their eyes was a great comfort. They were
the only spectators due to the closed nature of the hearing. Colt was spit
shined with his snap up, white, cowboy shirt and cowboy tie. He had on a
pair of Wrangler dress pants and his dress boots. He looked as cute and
vulnerable as they could possibly make him appear.

"Colt," the prosecutor began, "Tell us in your own words how you met Shane
Steele."

"Well, umm," he began softly, teeming with childlike innocence. "It was in
a gas station bathroom on our way back from a rodeo. He needed to use the
bathroom and he was waiting in there for me to finish up because there was
only one spot and my brother was in the stall part."

He went on and told about how he had recognized me from the TV news. He
said he gave me his number because I had asked for it, which was not
true. I had not asked for it. He'd begged me to take it and call him so he
could ask me more questions. I struggled to keep my courtroom face on.

He spoke in a demure, childlike manner how I had called him on Jaime's
phone and said that I wanted to see him. He claimed that I told him that I
was calling from my brother's girlfriend's phone but not to call back on
Jaime's phone because his dad got assigned to protect my family. That part
was sort of confusing, but the prosecutor swept past it. That's when he
claimed I started using notes posted to a telephone pole down the street
from his house when I wanted to meet up. He claimed we met at the big oak
tree out by the canal multiple times. He couldn't say exactly how many.

"What did you do there at the big oak tree?" the prosecutor asked.

"We went in the bushes nearby and talked at first. I wanted to know how a
guy could tell if he was gay or not," he said blushing since he had spoken
that in front of his mother and father.

"Are you gay, Colt?" the prosecutor asked.

"No sir. I just got confused because of the things Shane told me and what
he did to me."

"Like what?" the prosecutor queried.

"Like in the bathroom when we first met, Shane asked why I stared at him
when he was going pee.  There wasn't a wall or anything between the urinal
and the sink so I could see him and he turned towards me a little so I
could look at it better."

"At his penis, you mean?" the prosecutor clarified.

"Yes sir. I was just curious. I hadn't seen a grownup's before. So I was
looking at it. And I told him I was just curious. He said that meant I
might be gay since I was so interested. He said there were other ways to
tell - like if I ever wondered what my friends at school might look like
naked. And I had wondered that sometimes so I got worried. But, now I know
I'm really not gay."

"And how did you figure that out?"

"By talking to my counselor," Colt lied.

"What sort of things did you and Shane talk about by the big oak tree when
you met up?" the prosecutor continued.

"More about how to tell if I was gay or not," he answered. "Then Shane said
we should do some experiments to see if I really was."

"What kind of experiments?"

"He said that he needed to see my penis and at first I didn't want him to
see it, but he said I needed show him for the experiments and besides, he'd
already seen it in the bathroom when I was going pee.  So I let him pull my
pants down and look."

Colt put his head down and pretended to be ashamed. With some coaxing,
which seemed a little coached to me, Colt went on to describe how I
gradually got him to masturbate and described a gradual progression of sex
acts I encouraged him to perform, including things I supposedly got him to
perform on me.

Colt claimed I had given him money and made him promise not to tell anyone
what we were doing. He said I took pictures of him naked and doing sex
things. He said that I had promised to get him some condoms because he
wanted to show them off at the rodeo events like some of the older guys did
to look cool and tough.

I couldn't resist any longer and I shook my head slowly in protest of his
lies. Adam reached down and gave my thigh a warning squeeze against doing
that. I stopped. Inside I wanted to scream out, "LIAR!"  He was a fairly
skillful liar, which I knew from the time he came to my house and pretended
he was there to get back some things I'd supposedly borrowed from his
brother.

The last bit of his testimony was about the fateful Saturday that I had
allegedly lured him with a note on the telephone pole to my house with no
one home. He told how I'd made him pose for pictures that I posted on the
internet and then assaulted him with the brush among other horrible
things. Both mothers gasped slightly at his description. It was graphic and
gut wrenching. Colt actually summoned tears as he told it.

When the prosecutor was done, Adam stood and walked over to Colt after
getting permission from the judge. "I'm sure this must be hard for you. I'm
sorry that I have to ask you a few more questions and then you can be done
for today," Adam said kindly.

"Okay," Colt sniffed.

"You testified that all of your meetings with Shane were near the big oak
tree on the Steele's property, near the canal. Is that correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Why did you go there to meet with him? What was it that you wanted from
him?"

"I wanted to know if I was gay or not?"

"And you thought Shane could help you figure that out?" Adam asked in a
fatherly tone.

"Well, yeah. He's gay so I thought he would know about that stuff."

"Why didn't you just ask your dad? Wouldn't that have been better?"

"No. I couldn't ask him."

"Why not? Don't you get along?"

"No. I mean, we get along. I just, we don't talk much and he gets mad
easy. He doesn't like gay guys and he might not like me asking about that
kind of stuff, so that's why I wanted to talk to Shane instead."

"Was Shane willing to help you?"

"He said he was. But then he mostly wanted to do sex stuff with me."

"And you didn't want to do that?"

"No sir."

"So you started meeting at the big oak tree and you started doing sex
things together. How often did you meet up and how long did you spend there
when you did?"

"Once or twice a week, I guess. It was like an hour. I didn't want to be
gone too long so my mom wouldn't worry about where I was or get
suspicious."

"If the sex activities upset you so much, why did you keep going back for
more?" Adam asked.  Colt shrugged and paused. He looked over at the
prosecutor and then at his father who shrugged slightly. Then he answered,
"I don't know. I just did."

"You don't know, or you don't want to say?" Adam pressed.

"I don't know."

"Is that the only place these sex activities took place?" Adam asked.

"Yes sir."

"Did you ever meet up with Shane for any other reason, besides to do sex
things or talk about sex?"

"No sir."

"Did you ever do anything with him at your house?" Adam asked.

"No way!" Colt blurted.

"What about his house? Did you ever go into his house for sex or for any
other reason before that Saturday when Shane was arrested?"

"No sir. Never."

"So then, the first time you were ever in Shane's house was on that
Saturday when he was arrested?"  Colt looked at his father again, who
nodded slightly, "Yes sir," Colt answered.

"Thank you, Colt. That's all."

I couldn't believe that was it. Colt had just made me out to be a
dangerous, disgusting, horrible pedophile and Adam had treated him like a
legitimate victim instead of the complete liar he was. I struggled to keep
my courtroom composure.

"Anything else, Mr. Thompson?"

"No, your honor. I think that is sufficient."

"Mr. Christopherson?" the judge asked towards Adam.

"No your honor. Not at this phase," Adam said flatly.

"Very well then. Based on the evidence presented, I find adequate cause to
proceed to trial. Please meet with my clerk and block out time for a
trial. We'll block out two weeks, which should be more than sufficient."

Both attorneys agreed and the judge signed some documents, rapped the
gavel, stood and left.

"He's lying through his teeth. None of that is true. None of it," I said
loud enough for everyone to hear even though I meant it to be whispered.

"Shut-up!" Adam whispered sternly. I cowered but I was still seething. I
turned to see my mother, tears in her eyes and a hand over her mouth. I was
heartbroken and I wondered if I'd made a mistake in asking Adam to get the
judge to allow my parents to be there.

I turned and caught Colt's eye and he recoiled and jerked his eyes away,
clinging like a small, frightened child to his mother. I wanted to hate
him, but I couldn't do it. I pitied him.

"Consultation room three," Adam spoke to the bailiff who gripped my bicep
and led me off. I waited half an hour before Adam came in.

"Listen to me, Shane," he growled. "If you want me to represent you, then
you will behave in court. You will not speak above a whisper that only I
can hear. You will not react to any testimony by rolling your eyes or
shaking your head. You will simply pay attention and keep your courtroom
face on.  Understood?"

"Yes. I'm sorry," I answered contritely.

"Fine. This is the last time I expect to have this conversation," Adam said
sternly.

"You're going to do more questioning next time, right?" I asked timidly.
Adam cracked a slight grin. "Yes. It will be very different next time. I
just wanted to establish a rapport this time with Colt. Next time, it will
be much different. This was just the preliminary, remember.  Nothing was
going to change the case being set for trial, so I didn't want to tip my
hand."

"I thought so. What's next?" I asked.

"Jury selection. In this Federal Court, the judge will select the jury. I
can submit two questions that I want asked and the prosecutor can do the
same thing. We each also get two preemptory objections that we can use to
preclude a juror without giving cause. Other than that, it's up to the
judge to panel a jury.  It's difficult because the jury has to come from
Montana and yet the Yellowstone jurisdiction issue puts the trial in
Wyoming. I am going to float the concept of a bench trial because of
this. I know the judge will be okay with it and if I can get the prosecutor
to agree, we should be able to get it done," Adam said.

"What's a bench trial?" I asked.

"Sorry," Adam said. "If everyone agrees to it, you can waive your right to
a jury trial. The judge acts as judge and jury in that case and decides
guilty or not guilty based on the facts. My sense of this particular judge
is that he is quite impartial and has no particular leaning. I think we are
better off with a bench trial than we would be with the jurors we would
likely get. It would have to be an older, conservative, religious group of
older men and women who could serve on it. They would probably be more
likely to be swayed by emotion to protect the children and think the worst
of you as the accused abuser."

"Wow. No jury?" I mused. "I didn't know that could happen."

"Doesn't happen a lot. Usually, one side or the other feels there is too
much of an advantage to have a jury that can be persuaded and more affected
by emotion. In this case, without the difficulty that there will be with
seating a jury, the prosecutor would never consider agreeing to it and he
still may not."

"Why do you think it's possible then?" I asked.

"Because I think the judge will pressure him into it. The prosecutor
doesn't want to aggravate a judge in his jurisdiction that he has to go
before over and over again for a case that isn't really in his
jurisdiction.  The prosecutor isn't too concerned with his popularity in
Montana when he is in Wyoming."

"Wow. Everything is so political. I never would have thought that about the
legal system," I said.

"Life is full of politics. Whenever there are two opinions and a decision
to be made, there are politics.  Poly means many and well, you know what
tics are." Adam made a joke. I laughed but not really at the joke, but
because Adam had told one.

"So you think we should do a bench trial?" I questioned.

"I do. Are you willing to put your destiny in the hands of one man?"

"That didn't work out so well for Christ going before Pontius Pilate," I
said. I don't know why that popped in my head.

"Well, you're not Christ and we don't have Judge Pilate," Adam answered.

"True. If you believe it's the best thing to do, then I say try it."

"Okay. Sign this waiver and I'll present it." I signed. Then Adam slid up
close and locked our eyes. He put a hand on my knee. "Shane, the plea offer
has been extended one last time. Will you please reconsider it? Even with a
bench trial, I fear that the prosecution has the better case. We're busy
trying to find some cracks, but there is a lot of damaging evidence."

I swallowed hard. I didn't want to go through all of that again. I really
didn't. "I want my day in court, Adam. I'm innocent. I'd rather die in
prison with my honor intact, than live with perceived guilt. I would never
be truly free." I said it without flinching. I surprised even myself at how
determined and calm I was in the declaration of it.

"Okay. We fight on." Adam stood, gathered up his documents, gave me a warm
smile and left. I went back to the waiting room until the van was ready to
leave. Later, back in my cell and in my grey jumpsuit with a number on my
back, I climbed up onto my gray, steel bunk and pulled the lame excuse for
a pillow over my head. I missed my fluffy down pillow from home.

"God, I'm in your hands now. Do with me what you will." I felt a peace. The
decision was made.

Whatever happened, I would live with it, deal with it and fight on.

*****###*****

Shane is going to have his day in court. The plea is off the table and his
fate is in Adam's and God's hands. Hopefully, he hasn't made a
mistake. Adam has a mountain to climb to defend him. I hope you remain
intrigued with the story. I have written it to the ending so chapters
should flow well to the end.

Hans h.schreiber@hushmail.com