Date: Thu, 13 Mar 2003 09:43:39 EST
From: Tulsadriller7@aol.com
Subject: Tales from the Ranch, Chapter 35/?

Disclaimer:  The following story is a work of fiction.  If you
are offended by descriptions of homosexual acts or man/man
relations, please exit this page.

TALES FROM THE RANCH
Copyrightc 2003 by Tulsa Driller 7.  All rights reserved.

This is a story of men who have two common interests.  You will
see that they love the land where they live and work, but it is
also the story of young men who love other men and their coming
of age in a culture of prejudice and misunderstanding.  It is a
story, which deals with difficult and often disturbing issues
but, nonetheless, issues which must be confronted in today's
world.

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any
specific person or persons.  Any similarity to actual persons or
events is entirely coincidental.  This work is copyrightedc by
the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the
specific written permission of the author.  It is assigned to the
Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but
it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the
written permission of the author.

PLEASE:  In a perfect world AIDS doesn't exist.  My characters
have unprotected sex.  I hope you use proper precautions because
I'd like you to be around the read the last chapter of this
story.

Tales from the Ranch
Chapter 35:  Fallout
     Craig's mother called shortly after the three men had
finished dinner.
     Dale answered the phone.
     "Dale, this is Doris Bastian.  Frank's on the extension.
How are you fellows this evening and how is my grandson getting
along?  He's sure lucky you and Craig were willing to provide a
home for him."
     "Hi Doris, hi Frank."  Dale motioned for Craig to go pick up
one of the extensions.  "We're doing pretty good.  It's been a
really long week.  Craig and I should have called to tell you,
but Joe passed away on Friday evening.  Joey, Craig and I were
there and we think he knew we were holding his hands."
     "Oh Dale, I'm so sorry and so is Frank.  Is there anything
we can do?  Craig said you had to bring some of Joey's things
back to Williamsport and prepare the house to be sold."
     "That's right," Dale replied.  "We need to get busy on it
this week, probably about Wednesday, but haven't had a real
discussion about it yet.  There has been a lot going on this
week, to say the least."
     Craig took the time to break in to the conversation.  "Hi
Mom, Dad.  Glad you called."
     "Hi son," Frank said.
     "Craig.  How are you this evening?" Doris asked.
     "Well, as Dale said, it's been a hectic week.  I think we're
going to start round three of the Houston saga this week as we
need to get Joey moved up here so he can start school and make
sure everything we want to keep is out of the house."
     Frank spoke up.  "If you fellows need any help, Doris and I
are available.  I've made tentative arrangements to take some
vacation time if you can use us and think we can be of help."
     "That's really nice of you, Frank," Dale said.  "We need to
talk about this among the three of us.  The social worker at the
V.A. Center in Houston was going to get us names of estate sale
people and a realtor to work with.  I need to call him tomorrow
morning."
     "How much stuff are we talking about moving?" Frank asked.
     "Not a lot.  We haven't determined yet, but I thought we
might take one of the pickups from the ranch and my Blazer.
We're going to drive Joe's Oldsmobile back from Houston and sell
it here.  I think we can probably get more money for it that way,
so we could also use an extra driver," Dale said.
     "Depending on what you get set up, we could meet you in
Houston on either Wednesday or Thursday, help you pack and load
up.  Then one of us could drive Joe's car back to Williamsport
for you while the other drove our car," Doris said.
     "Sounds like you have it all planned out for us," Craig
laughed.
     "No, son, not at all," Frank told them.  "We just want to
help and wanted to let you know we're available."
     "Let us talk about this tonight, but we may not be able to
make a decision until tomorrow evening," Dale said.
     "That's okay, now do we get to talk to our grandson?" Doris
asked.
     "Sure," Dale said.  "Just a minute."
     He motioned Joey over.  "This is Craig's parents on the
telephone.  They want to talk to their grandson, okay?" he asked.
     "Sure," Joey told him, taking the phone.
     "Hello," he said tentatively.
     "Joey, this is Craig's Mom and his Dad, Frank, is on the
other phone.  I wanted to welcome you to the family."
     "Thank you," Joey said.  "Are we going to get to meet each
other in Houston?"
     "Most certainly, son," Frank told him.  "We're planning to
help you fellows later in the week."
     "Thank you," Joey said.  "What am I supposed to call you?
You're Craig's parents," he said.
     "You can either call us Doris and Frank. or if you want, you
could call us Grandpa and Grandma," Doris said.
     "Really?" Joey was thrilled to death.  "I've never had
grandparents before, at least not that I knew.  That's cool.  I
call both Dale and Craig 'Dad' 'cause they both have taken the
place of my real Dad," he told them.
     Frank laughed.  "I never thought we'd have grandchildren so
soon, especially not one that's almost full-grown."
     "And especially not from Craig," Doris put in.
     Dale couldn't hear both sides of the conversation, but he
was sitting there with a big smile on his face.  He knew this was
going well.  He was really proud that Frank and Doris loved both
he and Craig and had willingly added Joey to their family, too.
     Craig ended the conversation.  "We'll give you a call
tomorrow night and let you know what's going on and what we plan
to do."
     "Okay, son," Frank said.
     "We'll look forward to hearing from you," Doris said.  "Tell
Dale good-bye for us, Joey."
     "Okay. good night. Grandma and Grandpa."  That sounded so
good to Joey.
     * * * * *
     "Okay," Dale said when everyone was back in the living room.
"We've got to get 'Project Houston' underway.  I'm going to get a
legal pad and we're going to write down everything that we need
to do each day this week."
     "I'll get one for you," Craig said.  He was back in a minute
with a pad and pen, handing them to Dale, who wrote MONDAY at the
top of the first sheet.
     "First thing Monday is to call the school to tell then Joey
will be starting classes a week from Monday.  The second item is
to find out which textbooks he might be able to use here.  Three,
call Jay McCormick.  Four, call estate sale people and Five, call
realtor.  Six, call Arlen Fischer.  Anybody else think of
anything for tomorrow?" Dale asked.
     "Have Jay call the school and make arrangements for Joey to
withdraw as a student and. Joey, do you have anything you need to
either pickup or leave at the school?" Craig asked.
     "Yeah, my gym clothes are there and I need to clean out my
locker and turn in my homework that I brought here with me."
     "Okay," Dale said, heading the next sheet HOUSTON SCHOOL and
writing down what Joey had just said.  The next sheet was marked
TUESDAY, then the rest of the days in the week.  The sheet after
that was labeled, JOEY'S THINGS TO WILLIAMSPORT.
     Dale started in listing, talking out loud.  "Clothes,
models, desk, chair, pictures and posters."
     Then he added, "Big screen TV, VCR, stereo equipment and
videos, CD's and records.  Okay, think of anything else, Joey?"
     "Unnnhh, there's some games and books, too."  Dale wrote
those down.
     The lists for each page filled up rapidly.  Finally,
everything each could think of had been listed on the appropriate
page.  Dale went back to the beginning and read the items on each
page, moving several items from one page to another.
     "It looks to me that depending on what information Jay can
give us tomorrow, we could probably drive to Houston either
Tuesday night or early Wednesday morning.  Then we can separate
out the things Joey. and we. want to keep.
     "Your parents could drive down Wednesday afternoon, then we
could start loading things up on Thursday morning and come back
to Williamsport that afternoon," Dale finished.
     "Sounds good to me.  You've really gotten this organized,"
Craig told him.
     "All this is contingent on the estate sale people and
getting a realtor.  Everything could slide a day, but we should
know by tomorrow evening if this will work and let your parents
know," Dale said.
     "Sounds good to me," Joey said.  "I hate to leave my friends
in Houston, but I know I'm going to like living here with you and
going to school here.  Oh yeah. add a line for me to call Paul to
tell him that I can't be at choir practice on Wednesday."
     "That reminds me, too.  We can't go to cooking class on
Wednesday, either," Craig said.
     Dale wrote those items on the "Monday" page.
     "Hey, maybe we can get Mom Bastian to give us a few cooking
lessons," Dale said.
     "She will and she'd probably stay for six weeks to do it
right," Craig laughed.
     Dale flipped back to the "Monday" page.  "One other thing.
We need to call and get Joey enrolled in a Drivers Ed course."
     "ALL RIGHT!!!" Joey said, giving both Dale and Craig a high-
five.
     "We didn't say you could drive.  Just that you could take
the course," Dale said with his big 1000-watt grin.
     "Uhn oh, Joey.  Watch out.  When he gets a grin like that,
be careful, because you and I are both in big trouble."
     "Dad. Joe, used to do that to me, too," Joey said, almost
with the same identical smile and eyes twinkling.
     "Oh no. two against one," Craig laughed.
     "Yes, and we are going to see to it that the righteous are
punished. appropriately," Dale told him, then pulling him close
for a peck on the lips.
     "Dads, go to your bedroom.  That's gross!"  Joey was in a
teasing mood, too.  He loved it that his Dads loved each other as
well as him, too.
     * * * * *
     Bret Senior found his wife in the kitchen, baking a batch of
cookies.  He thought she looked mad, but he guessed she had every
right to be after what had happened earlier in the evening.
     "Hi," she said wearily, "would you like some cookies and
something to drink to go along with them?"
     "Yeah," he replied.  He set the bottle of pain medication on
the table.
     Beth looked at the cast, feeling sorry for her husband, but
still not forgiving him.
     "How bad was it?"
     "The outside bone, I think he called it the ulna, about 4
inches above the wrist.  The doctors said it would heal more
quickly than if it had been the wrist.  I have to go back on
Thursday, after the swelling goes down, for them to look at it
again and replace this cast with another."
     "What happened back there?" she asked gently.
     "That Dale guy, the one who works for the Williamson family
told me that I was a pathetic mess who didn't know right from
wrong and would follow Jimmy Bob anywhere without question.  That
made me mad and I started to take a swing at him.  He grabbed my
wrist and slammed my arm against the wall.  You could hear the
bone break."
     "Did you ever stop to think that he might be right?"
     "I'm confused about this.  The guy looks about as macho as
he could get.  He doesn't look like a fag, yet he was with the
rest of them this evening.  I don't understand about the teenage
boy he and the other guy had with them.  Jimmy Bob said that they
probably had recruited him to be a fag, too, and were going to
train him."
     "Bret, you need help.  You have become obsessed with this.
It's eating at our family.  The kids are confused, their grades
are dropping and they are scared, especially since you made Bret
Junior leave this evening.  You've done some real damage here
tonight and it's not good for any of us.  Father George saw the
bruises on my arms and he knew immediately what had caused them."
     "I don't know what to say.  I want to believe Jimmy Bob, but
I don't know if he's right or wrong," Bret said.
     "I don't know either, but I did talk to the four men who
were here.  They certainly seemed like nice men.  One was Father
George, the priest from what you call the 'fag cathedral', then
there was an attorney from Austin, the coach, Eddie, that is
allowing Bret Junior to stay with him and the other guy, I think
you called him Dale.  They seemed to be gentlemen and were
concerned about me and the children."
     "That's what's so confusing.  They don't look. or I guess.
act like what Jimmy Bob says a fag is supposed to be.  You know,
act swishy, wear makeup, some of them wear outrageous clothes and
they get all 'kissy-faced' with each other," Bret said.
     "Jimmy Bob thought the nurse in the emergency room was a fag
just because he was a male nurse.  The guy treated us well and
didn't try anything funny."
     "I don't know either, but I think we both need to think
about this because it's eating on you just like a cancer.  You
haven't been warm and loving for over a year.  Now anything that
happens at the church sets you off and you become mean.  Lately,
you've been swearing and you never did that before."
     "I know.  I don't know what the answer is.  The church is in
bad financial trouble and Jimmy Bob seems to think that it's my
job to see to it that people contribute, but he's the one who is
running members away.  People are starting to laugh at him."
     Beth took the last batch of cookies out of the oven.  This
was the first time that she and Bret had sat down and actually
talked to each other for over a year.  He seemed almost like his
old self this evening; however, it was too bad that the
circumstances of the evening had brought them back together this
way.
     * * * * *
     The morning edition of the Austin American-Statesman had a
picture of Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones and Bret Jenkins, Senior along
with the picture of Fr. George Tikker and Alan Zimmer.  The
article was titled, "Gays Won - Bigots Zero".  It was an
amazingly correct piece of reporting, actually supporting the gay
people.  Of course, the second confrontation wasn't covered in
the article, but that story would make its way around
Williamsport pretty quickly.
     Bret arrived at the office at his usual time, not having
seen the paper.
     Amanda was her usual cheery self, working at he desk when
Bret arrived.  She immediately noticed his fuchsia-colored cast.
What Bret didn't realize was that Dr. Lawrence and the R.N.,
Gary, were lovers and had conferred with each other, deciding to
give him a cast that would stand out and be seen.  They could
have given him a flesh colored one, but this was more fun.
     "What happened to you?  The paper didn't say anything about
anybody getting hurt."
     "What are you talking about?" Bret asked.
     Amanda handed him the paper.  "Oh shit," was all he said,
carrying the paper to his cubicle.
     Morris Johnsmore arrived at the office about five minutes
later.  He stuck his head in Bret's work area.  "My office - ten
minutes."  He didn't sound happy.
     'Double shit,' thought Bret.
     Morris punched in the number for the rectory.  Paul answered
and Morris asked for Fr. George.  He had just returned to the
rectory from celebrating the Monday morning low mass in the Lady
Chapel.
     After they exchanged pleasantries, Morris asked if Fr.
George had seen the morning paper from Austin.
     "Yes, and it's pretty accurate.  There is a second story
that's not in the paper, and I hope it won't be, but you should
know about it since your employee, Bret, is involved," Fr. George
said.
     "Jeez, what else happened?"
     Fr. George related the story of the visit to the Jenkins'
residence and removing Bret Junior to a safe place, and then told
the story of Bret trying to hit Dale and the resulting broken
arm.  Fr. George also told him that they suspected family abuse
and Beth and Bret Junior both admitted that on other occasions,
Bret Senior had hit them, causing bruises.  He stressed that the
younger children had not been involved except to witness the
incidents.
     "I've tried to get him to realize that his anger was going
to get him in trouble.  I guess that I'm going to have to demand
he get help this time.  Thanks for telling me about this.  I'll
work on it from my end here at the office.  If he wants to keep
his job, he has to get counseling," Morris said.
     "Morris, can you insist on counseling for the entire family?
They are all victims here."
     "Yeah, I think our group insurance even covers it, certainly
most of it, anyway."
     "We'll appreciate what you can do.  We have reason to
suspect that Rev. Jimmy Bob has some problems that need to be
addressed, too," Fr. George said.
     "He's an embarrassment to the community, but I'm hopeful it
involves just him and not a lot of other people, too."
     "I think just church members, but we're working on it," Fr.
George told him.
     "Well, thanks Father.  I'm going to talk to Bret in just a
few minutes, but wanted to hear your viewpoint on this before I
wade in," Morris said.
     "You are welcome.  And if you come up with any more
information, I'd appreciate knowing, that is if you think it will
help our people."
     "I will.  Thanks again."
     "Good bye."
     * * * * *
     Rev. Jimmy Bob just about had a stroke when he retrieved the
paper from his front porch.  He had planned to have a leisurely
cup of coffee before going to his church office.  His wife was
still asleep.  He didn't know what time she came home, since they
slept in separate bedrooms and always had.  Jimmy Bob wanted to
call someone to discuss this with and realized he didn't have
anyone except his lackey, Bret Jenkins, Senior.  And he wasn't
too sure about him, as he had really drug his feet about putting
a second mortgage on his house to help the church treasury.
     * * * * *
     Marty saw the Austin paper when he went downstairs to eat
breakfast with Jason and Kevin.  He couldn't help but smile,
although he didn't say anything to anyone else.  He'd go talk to
Dale a little later to see if he knew anything about it.
However, he wasn't sure that he and Craig belonged to the group.
     * * * * *
     Tom and Eddie read the article with interest and both wished
the whole story had been printed.  Bret Junior saw the article
when they were eating breakfast.
     "It didn't tell what really happened," he said.
     "That's because the reporter who took the pictures was only
at the rectory.  I'm not sure we want to read a follow up article
in the paper, but the story will get around town.  Bret, you are
likely to get some flack about this from some of your friends at
school.  Your name isn't mentioned in the article, but that won't
keep the kids from making the connection, since you are Bret
Junior," Tom explained.
     "Yeah, I know.  What should I say?"
     "I'd suggest that if kids ask if that's your father, just
say yes, then tell them that you don't know anything else.
That's not really true, but it might keep them off your back,"
Eddie told them.
     "Okay, thanks, I really appreciate all you've done for me.
That's good advice."
     * * * * *
     Joey retrieved their paper when he let Mitsy outside.  He
liked to read the funnies and then do the crossword puzzle.  Of
course, he was surprised to see the article and pictures.  He
couldn't wait to show his Dads.
     Mitsy scratched at the door and Joey let her in, following
her to the kitchen so she could be fed.  He took care of that,
gave her a fresh bowl of water, and then started the coffeepot.
He laid the paper on the counter where it couldn't be missed,
then went to shave and shower.
     Craig was the first of the Dads to go to the kitchen.  He
poured three glasses of orange juice and was pleased the
coffeepot was about halfway through its cycle.  The paper was
lying beside three coffee mugs Joey had set out.  Although he
didn't have his contacts in, he could read things close up, and
easily see the heading and pictures.  He carried the paper to
their bathroom.
     Dale was just soaping his face in preparation to covering
his beard with lather.  For orneriness, he gave Craig a sloppy
wet kiss, getting soap on him, too.
     "Looks like us fags made the paper this morning," Craig
said, holding the paper up for Dale to see.
     "Jeez, we didn't need that," he said.
     "Actually, according to this article, which just covers the
incident at the rectory, we won and Rev. Jimmy Bob and Bret
Senior look like fools."
     "Read it to me," Dale said.  "This should be good."
     Craig started, "A meeting of the Williamsport Chapter of the
Dignity/Integrity group ended in a confrontation between the Rev.
Jimmy Bob Jones and his disciple, Bret Jenkins, Sr. and leaders
of the group of gay men and women meeting at St. James rectory on
Sunday evening.
     "Rev. Jones and Jenkins were sitting in a minivan down the
street using binoculars to help them identify those arriving for
the meeting.  An off duty police officer noticed the brake lights
on the van were flashing.  When it was discovered what was going
on, backup police officers were called.
     "The men were removed from the van and confessed they had
intended to identify those attending the meeting and make their
names public.  Rev. Jones stated the people were dangerous and
had too much influence on such organizations as the school board
and city government.
     "Representatives of the group, Rev. George Tikker, an openly
gay Episcopal priest and rector of St. James parish and Alan
Zimmer, of the prestigious law firm of Zimmer and Fields of
Austin, a firm nationally known for its efforts in gay rights
legislation and work in gay adoption reform were interviewed by
the police.  The group also provides counseling for teens and
older people needing help understanding sexual identity and also
provides a safe haven for those having problems with parents.
     "No charges were filed and the group dispersed peacefully."
     "Well, it really doesn't tell the true story, but it does
make Rev. Jimmy Bob and Bret Jenkins, Sr. look like fools,
doesn't it?" Dale said.
     "Yeah.  I wonder if other reporters will descend on our fair
city to try to follow up what this article says?" Craig stated.
     "It's hard to know, but you can bet that there will be more
snooping around by the reporter who wrote the article because
he's the one who sold this to the Austin paper," Dale told him.
     What Dale and Craig didn't know at this point was that the
story had been picked up from the wire services by the morning
papers in Houston, Dallas, Ft. Worth, Kansas City, Tulsa,
Oklahoma City, Denver and on to the west.  It would make the
eastern papers the next morning.
     Williamsport was about to have its name put on the big map.
     * * * * *
     Bret Senior waited a full ten minutes before going to his
boss's office.  He stood in the doorway, just getting ready to
knock when Morris motioned him in and indicated he was to sit
down.
     "The newspaper didn't say anything about a fight.  Care to
tell me your side of the story?" he asked a little testily.
     "My oldest son went to the rectory to try to warn them that
Jimmy Bob and I were spying on them.  An off duty officer who was
going to the meeting parked behind us and noticed the brake
lights were flashing on and off.  I guess I was bumping the
pedal.  Anyway, the police got there at the same time as he did.
We saw him go in the house.
     "The police held guns on us and made us get out of the van,
then searched us for weapons.  That's about all that happened
there.  We were allowed to leave, so I took Jimmy Bob home and
then went home myself and lay down on the bed to try to get
calmed down.
     "I've taken my frustrations out on my wife and Bret Junior
several times.  He was afraid to come home, so your priest, the
attorney from Austin, Eddie - I think his name is Thompson - the
coach and Dale that works for the Williamson's brought him home.
They were concerned for his safety and I guess they should have
been because I was ready to really thrash him.
     "Anyway, I heard strange voices in the house, then footsteps
coming down the hall.  I opened the door and yelled some
derogatory remarks at them.  I told my son to leave, so this
Eddie took him to get his clothes and stuff, then took Bret home
with him where he said he would be safe.  Dale accused me of
being Jimmy Bob's disciple and not knowing right from wrong.  I
swung at him; he grabbed my wrist and backed me into the wall.
Everyone heard the bone snap.
     "It's the outer bone, the ulna, that broke.  I have to wear
this elastic bandage and cast until Thursday when the swelling
should be down.  They'll replace it with one that fits better and
I'll probably have to wear that for about 6 weeks."
     "Well, I hope they give you one that is a little less 'gay'
in appearance," Morris told him, suppressing a laugh.
     Bret hadn't even thought about the color.  When he did, he
realized that he'd been had by Dr. Lawrence.  'Dear God,' he
thought, 'is the doctor a fag, too?'
     "Okay, Brett.  I warned you sometime back about your
obsession with homosexuals and others who don't fit into the mold
that Rev. Jimmy Bob and you think is right.  I also told you that
the Williamsons' various businesses make up the majority of this
firms work.  Now I don't think that Marty is about to pull his
business away from here, but it really doesn't look very good
that you tried to pick a fight with his general manager.
Regardless of the fact that you lost, it puts a strain on any
contacts we have with each other, whether business or social.
     I'm not going to fire you, because you are a very good
accountant and do your job well with the one exception I just
mentioned.  I am, however, going to require that you go to
counseling for anger management and family abuse and that your
entire family attend a family-counseling group.
     "Also, I know that you are the treasurer of Jimmy Bob's
church.  I'm not telling you anything that you don't know, but
that church is in bad financial trouble.  I'm on the board of
Central Texas Bank and I know that our loan committee is
insisting some of the more solid members of that congregation be
asked to co-sign the renewal note.  I'm only suggesting that you
would be smart to disassociate yourself from that church before
it all comes crashing down and you have to try to pick up the
pieces.
     "You may think that it's none of my business, and maybe it
isn't, and I know you didn't ask my advice, but I'm talking to
you as a friend and not as your boss right now."
     "I appreciate that and I know my behavior has been bad, both
here and at home.  Jimmy Bob is trying to talk me into putting a
second mortgage on my home to help him with 'God's plan' as he
calls it, but I think I'm beginning to see through his ruse,"
Bret said.
     "Yes, I've seen things like this happen before.  The members
of the congregation are left holding the bag while the minister
is living in grand style, usually after stealing the church
blind," Morris told him.
     "What should I do?" Bret asked.
     "I think for starters that you need to sit down with your
wife and be honest with each other.  Talk about what is going on
at church, your feelings, her feelings and the feelings of your
children.  Talk to some of the other members and see what their
feelings are.  You don't have to tip your hand, but you may be in
for a big surprise since that church has lost members recently.
Find out why, without bullying them."
     "Okay.  I see your point," Bret offered.
     "Well, just learn to control your temper, but you're going
to have to find out why you are acting the way you are.  You've
been hostile and withdrawn for almost a year and are not a
pleasant person to be around most of the time.  I thought it was
caused by problems you and your wife were having, and I'm glad to
find out that it may be some other reason.
     "Now, get back to work.  And good luck.  I'll be willing to
help you as much as I can.  Okay?"  He rose and held out his
right hand, they realized that he needed to use his left.
     "Thank you, Morris.  Thank you a lot," he said as he
returned the shake.
     "And Bret, they make casts like that in flesh color, too."
     They laughed together, Bret from relief.  He was already
starting to feel better.
     * * * * *
     Miles Truby, the free-lance reporter/photographer had been
contacted by the Austin American-Statesman.  The editor asked for
some background and follow-up information on Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones
and Bret Jenkins, Sr. and was asked to try to get statements from
people who might have been attending the meeting.  His editor
told him that the Dallas Morning News was questioning him about
sending one of their reporters to Williamsport.  Miles needed to
get busy; because stories paid money and he had a chance to be
there first.
     The first person he wanted to talk to was the Rev. Jimmy Bob
Jones.  He hoped that he could get some background information on
him, where he went to school, his ordination, the growth of his
church.  He thought he would approach it from the standpoint that
Jimmy Bob wouldn't talk to him the night before and he just
simply reported the information he had.  He would blame the
editor in Austin for writing the story in favor of the gay
people.  He would tell him that this was his chance to set the
record straight.
     He drove to the church about 11 a.m.  There were two cars in
the parking lot, a maroon Cadillac sedan and a VW Jetta.  It was
obvious that the Cadillac probably belonged to the minister.  He
parked his old Honda in the lot and entered the building.  He
could hear a vacuum cleaner running down the hall to the left.
The sign in the hall pointed to the right with the word "Office".
     Miles walked down the hall to the door marked
"Receptionist".  That door was open and although the lights were
on, it was obvious no one was tending the desk.  He could hear
talking in another office and started down a short hall toward
the sound.  He could see through a large floor to ceiling window.
The drapes were open and an obese man, whom he realized was Jimmy
Bob Jones, was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, probably
listening to yesterday's sermon.
     He could hear the tape clearly.  Jimmy Bob was threatening
the members that they could go to hell if they didn't take the
opportunity to help Jimmy Bob with, as he termed it, "God's
Plan".
     Miles stood there and listened for a good five minutes.
There was never any mention of salvation; only the threat of
eternal damnation and it was a pretty grim picture.  He wondered
from the description if Jimmy Bob had first-hand knowledge of the
place.  He also wondered if he could be lucky enough to get a
copy of the tape.  Surely he made them available, probably for a
price, to those believers who were not able to attend.
     He'd heard enough.  He walked to the open door and knocked
on the frame.  Jimmy Bob's chair rolled back and he had a hard
time righting himself and reaching for the stop button on his
tape player.
     "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, but there was no one in
the reception area," Miles said.
     "Who are you?" Jimmy Bob questioned.  The man looked vaguely
familiar.
     I'm Miles Truby and I'm a reporter for the Austin American-
Statesman.  I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few
minutes."
     "Get the hell outta here," Jimmy Bob yelled.  "You're the
one that made the fags look like they won last night."
     "You are right only in that I was there to take pictures and
make some notes.  The editor of the Austin paper wrote the
article."
     "Yeah, but you gave him the information," Jimmy Bob said.
     "You didn't want to answer questions last night, and I don't
blame you, but I was hoping that you might give me a chance to
give the paper your side of the story.  There are a lot of people
out there who respect you and would want you to have an equal
chance," he said, trying to appeal to Jimmy Bob's vanity.
     He thought for a little bit.  "You are right, some people
believe everything they see on TV or read in the paper.  I'd
welcome the chance to give them the truth," Jimmy Bob said.
     Miles was thinking, 'This is going to be easier than I
thought.'
     "Where'd ya wanna start?" Jimmy Bob asked expectantly,
running his words together.
     "May I sit down?" Miles asked.
     "Sure, sorry."
     Miles sat down, and then pulled a small tape recorder out of
his jacket pocket.  "May I record this?  It will go more quickly
if I don't have to write everything down."
     "Sure," Jimmy Bob said.  "I use one myself all the time.
Saves me a lot of time writing my sermons."
     "It saves me a lot of time and helps prevent people from
being misquoted, too," Miles agreed.
     He pushed the 'record' button.  "Let's start with some
background information on you so that people will better
understand your position about this."
     "Sounds good," Jimmy Bob answered.
     "Age?"
     "38"
     "Where were you born?"
     "Dumas, Texas.  That's north of Amarillo."
     "Where did you go to seminary?"
     "Unnn."  There was a long hesitation.  "I attended Dalhart
Bible College."
     "And when were you ordained?"
     More silence.  "Well, my church really doesn't ordain
anybody.  We believe that we are called to witness and preach of
the evil that befalls man."
     'Interesting,' Miles thought.
     "How long have you been in Williamsport?"
     "Came here in 1978.  This was Dr. Phil Arnett's church.  He
died about two months before I came here, this congregation
called me to preach to them and direct their lives."
     "Where were you before coming to Williamsport?"
     "I was a Bible salesman and sold other religious books, too.
Covered 6 states.  Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Missouri
and Kansas.  I also preached on the tent revival circuit."
     "Do you have a family?"
     "My wife, Marlene.  We met at college."
     "What about this church. how many members do you have?"
     "About 400, Jimmy Bob lied - a lot.
     "Is the congregation growing?"
     "Oh yes, we have new members every week," again lying.
     "Okay, Reverend.  Is there any other background information
that you want to add?"
     "Nope, not right now."  Rev. Jimmy Bob was starting to feel
comfortable with this reporter.
     "Well, Rev. Jones.  Williamsport has a lot of problems, such
as college kids who are having trouble due to liquor and drugs,
there's some prostitution and the poor people who are having a
problem making ends meet.  Yet, you seem to direct your crusade
against homosexual men and women who you lump together as 'fags'
and the problems they cause.  That seems to be a minor problem
compared to the ones I mentioned.  In fact, I don't think I've
been aware of any problems that group causes."
     "They're tryin' to take over society and they have some
really rich people backin' 'em, like the Williamson family.  That
'fag cathedral' they belong to is the worst and the Williamson
family supports it with a lot of money every year.  The group we
were watchin' last night benefits from some money the
Williamson's gave them."
     "Surely there aren't that many of 'them', as you put it,
here in Williamsport," Miles said.
     "Oh yeah, they're everywhere.  Schoolteachers, police,
bankers, that priest, nurses, cowboys, restaurant owners, people
that work in convenience stores, building contractors and about
another dozen we couldn't identify last night."
     "Well exactly what have they done to you?  I mean since you
are so passionate about your battle with them."
     "They're perverts.  For instance, one of them is a cowboy.
He and the guy that lives with him - it looks like they've
recruited a young guy that they're going to train to be a fag,
too."
     "Train him to do what?" Miles asked.
     "Well, you know, all that stuff that fags do.  They suck
cock and take it up the ass.  They get all kissy-faced and some
of them wear make up and women's clothes.  It's just disgusting
what they do.  Then there are some fags that are women and they
dress in men's clothes.  Can't tell 'em apart from a real man.
If fact some are tougher than the guys that try to act like
women."
     Miles was having a hard time believing this reasoning.  He
knew several gay people and had known them for several years
before he found out for sure they were actually gay.
     "Have any of them ever personally threatened you or made
advances to you?"
     "Well, last night I felt pretty threatened.  When you see
four police officers coming toward you with their guns drawn,
that's pretty threatened."
     Miles was looking around Jimmy Bob's office.
     "Do you know Fred Phelps?  I see you have his picture on the
wall."
     "We've never met, but I admire the guy.  He's got balls and
he takes his congregation all over the country to protest and
picket these faggots.  You know, disrupt funerals and march in
front of offices of governments leaders who think the fags are
being wronged."
     "Do you have plans to have your congregation do the same?"
     "Never thought about it, but I don't know if they would go
unless. he thought. unless I told 'em they'd go to hell for not
helping me do 'God's work'."
     "I've heard you talk about hell, but I haven't heard you
mention the words salvation, love, forgiveness and heaven, you
know as in eternal life."
     "Well, to begin with the Bible says that only a few of us
are going to get to heaven, so I figure it's pretty full already.
So, I can't promise them they are going there, but they know if
they are not good people they are going to hell."
     "So you see your role as someone who is preparing people to
be condemned to hell?"
     "Well, I suppose that would be a good description.  People
are basically bad and don't want to mend their ways.  They'll pay
pretty well, too, if they think there is a chance they aren't
going there."  He thought for a moment.  "Don't quote me on
that."
     "What do you propose that we do with those people you call
'fags'?"
     "Hell, they ought to be deported.  Send 'em to Africa or
maybe Australia.  That's how Australia got populated.  England
sent all their prisoners there.  We could add to the population
for them.  There's not that many people that live there anyway.
     "What's your opinion about AIDS?"
     "Oh, terrible, terrible.  They all have it and are infectin'
each other.  Thank goodness they keep it to themselves.  They may
kill themselves off, yet.  That makes my job easier."
     'What an ignorant bigot,' Miles thought.
     "Rev. Jones, I heard you listening to what sounded like a
sermon when I came in."
     "Oh yeah, I was reviewin' yesterday's sermon.  I did pretty
good.  We usually sell these tapes for $10 each, but seein' as
you're tryin' to help me, I'll give you one to take with you."
He rolled his chair back and took one from a stack that appeared
to have about 20 tapes in it.
     "Here ya go," he said, handing it to Miles.
     "Thanks.  I'm anxious to listen to this.  Maybe it will help
me with my story."
     "Well, I find it works best to sit in a dark room and close
your eyes when you listen.  Yesterday I preached for almost 45
minutes, which isn't up to my usual hour, but I think I made some
pretty good points.  And, our collection was up a little bit,
too."
     "Well, Reverend, thank you for your time.  It really was a
pleasure to meet you and I'll see if I can't do a good job of
telling your side of the problem we're having here in
Williamsport."
     Jimmy Bob hoisted himself out of his chair, and then reached
across his desk to shake hands.  "I appreciate it, a lot.  It's
not easy to convince people what's going on, but I'm sure working
on it."
     "Thank you for talking to me.  I'll do my best to see to it
that your viewpoint is put before the public," Miles said.
     "No, Miles, thank you.  Nobody's ever interviewed me for a
story before."
     'I can see why,' Miles thought as they shook hands.  Jimmy
Bob's hands were clammy.
     "Goodbye Reverend."
     "Thank you again.  Just leave my office door open.  I have a
young boy coming here in a few minutes for a counseling session."
     As Miles went through the reception area, he saw a young,
probably about 10-years old, blond boy sitting in a chair.
     The boy asked Miles, "Are you ready for me?"
     "What are you talking about?" Miles asked.
     "Well, sometimes Rev. Billy Bob has another man come here
when I come to see him.  I thought maybe you were him."
     "No, I'm just leaving.  I guess you can go in now if he's
expecting you," Miles said.
     "Okay."  The boy didn't act very excited about it.
     "What's your name, son?" Miles asked him.
     "Sammy Murdock."
     "Okay, Sammy, how old are you?"
     "I was 10 last summer."
     "Okay, Sammy, it was nice meeting you."
     He walked to the door and looked out through the glass.  The
VW Jetta was gone and a bicycle that must belong to Sammy was
propped against the wall.
     Something didn't seem right.  He was bothered a little about
the statement about another man being here.  Miles decided to
look for the restroom, although he really didn't need to use it.
He needed to kill a little time.
     The restroom was past Jimmy Bob's office.  He ducked in
there and stepped up to the urinal.  He needed to pee worse than
he thought.  Trying to be quiet, he didn't flush, then slipped
out the door and back to the reception area.
     The lights in the reception area had been turned off, but
the door was still open.  Miles walked through the area to the
hall where Jimmy Bob's office was located.  He could see through
the window from the darkened area.
     What he saw made him sick to his stomach, yet he couldn't
pull himself away.
     Sammy had taken his clothes off and Jimmy Bob was standing
there wearing only his boxer shorts.  He looked like a hairy ape.
Thick brown hair covered his chest and stomach and he saw that
the fur also covered his back when he turned around to face
Sammy.
     He pulled his boxers down, dropping them on the floor, then
settled back in his chair, reclining back.  Sammy was standing
beside the chair, facing the window and started fondling Jimmy
Bob's penis, which was uncircumcised, big and ugly.  The almost
purple glans was emerging from the foreskin.
     'Geez, and he hates fags.  This fag-hater was a pedophile,'
Miles thought.  He was trying to figure out what to do.
     Meanwhile Jimmy Bob was starting to fondle Sammy's little
cock.
     Miles was having trouble deciding if he should use his cell
phone to call the police or if he should walk to the open door
and snap a picture or two.  He wondered how long this session
might go on.  He knew he could take a couple of pictures and get
out the door, into his car and out of the parking lot with no
problem.  Jimmy Bob was obese and couldn't chase him.  But, he
also thought he needed another witness to this.  He quietly
slipped back to the restroom and used his cell phone to call the
Desk Sergeant at the Williamsport Police Department.
     "This is Sgt. Devlin," Robert answered the call.
     "Bob, this is Miles Truby."
     "Yeah, Miles, what can I do for you?"  The men had known
each other for quite a few years and frequently gave each other
information on cases.  Miles had actually helped solve one murder
case for the Williamsport Police and had aided in the recovery of
stolen goods several times.
     "Bob, I'm doing a follow-up on the story about Rev. Jimmy
Bob Jones and the gay people last night."
     "Yeah? What about it?"
     "I came over to the Victory Temple this morning to interview
Jimmy Bob and he answered questions, like he was glad to see me.
Then when I got ready to leave there was a 10-year old boy in the
outer office.  I went to the rest room, then back to the
Reverend's office because I was suspicious.  Turns out I was
right.  Jimmy Bob is a pedophile and has the kid in his office
right now.  They are both naked."
     "Geez.  That's awful.  What are you going to do?"
     "I thought maybe you could send an officer over here
immediately.  He will have to be quiet coming in the building.
I'll meet him at the door on the parking lot side.  It's dark
back where his office is.  Thought the officer would want to see
what's going on, and then I'll snap a couple of pictures.  The
rest is up to you."
     "Yeah, I can have an officer there in about 3 minutes."
     "Tell him no noise or we may not catch them in the act."
     "Okay, let me handle the rest.  Thanks for the tip."
     Miles closed his cell phone, then silently made his way down
the hall to the outside doors.
     The policeman was there within two minutes.  He parked out
of sight on the side of the building, and then ran to the door.
Miles hoped there wasn't a bell that rang when the doors were
opened.  Then held his breath and pushed the bar to open it.
     Miles quickly explained that the area was dark, but they
could see into his office and that he could probably get two
pictures taken before they had time to react.  The patrolman
okayed the plan and they made their way down the hall and into
the reception area.
     By this time Sammy was sitting on Jimmy Bob's fat thighs,
just above his knees, facing him.  Jimmy Bob's penis looked wet,
probably from precum.  Sammy was stroking it with both of his
small hands.  Jimmy Bob was laying there, eyes closed with a
smile on his face.
     The patrolman thought he was going to lose it.  He had a boy
about Sammy's age and this made him sick to his stomach.
     He whispered to Miles, "Go ahead and see if you can get a
picture, then I'll arrest him."
     Miles slipped to the open door, the chair was in the perfect
position for a side view that pretty well showed everything.
Sammy was intent on what he was doing and Jimmy Bob's eyes were
still closed.
     Miles zoomed in on the scene, then pushed the button.  There
was a flash of light.
     "Jesus Christ!!" Jimmy Bob yelled.
     Miles moved into the office and took another picture.
     "Get the hell outta here!!!"  He was trying to shove Sammy
off his legs, without success.  Sammy still had both hands on
Jimmy Bob's penis.  He needed something to hang onto to keep from
falling.
     "Turn loose you little faggot!!  You're hurting me!!" he
yelled at Sammy.
     The patrolman, who Miles later found out was Dana Abbott,
had used his radio to tell a patrolman in a second car that it
was okay to enter the building.  He stepped into the hall to
motion him to the scene.
     Being obese, it was hard for Jimmy Bob to get his chair into
an upright position and try to stand up.  Sammy was frozen in
position, standing where he landed after being shoved off Jimmy
Bob's knees.
     Jimmy Bob was swearing a blue streak, pleading and trying to
make a deal to keep himself from being arrested.
     Miles had plenty of film and was taking more pictures.  He
was the subject of much verbal abuse from Jimmy Bob.
     "I trusted you to tell the truth about me and look what you
did.  You're no better than the rest of the goddamned fags in
this town.  I bet they sent you over here, didn't they?"
     Miles couldn't resist.  "Oh, they'll get the truth alright.
Just not the story you want told."
     The first policeman, Dana, told a very meek Jimmy Bob to get
dressed.  The second called his dispatcher and asked to be
patched through to Sgt. Devlin, who told them to bring Rev. Jimmy
Bob Jones in to be booked.
     Patrolman Dana Abbott read the Miranda Rights to Rev. Jimmy
Bob Jones:  "You have the right to remain silent."
     "What's gonna happen to me?" he asked, almost pleadingly.
     "I have to put you in cuffs, then take you to the
headquarters," Patrolman Dana told him.
     "Damn, can't we do this in private?  I don't want people to
see me like this.  It looks bad."
     "You should have thought about that before you enticed this
young man into your office."
     Meanwhile, the second officer was helping Sammy get dressed.
He was going to take him and his bicycle to his home.  Sammy said
he thought his mother would be home.
     Jimmy Bob managed to get his boxer shorts on, then put on
his dress shirt and picked his trousers up off the floor.  He had
to sit down to put them on.
     Miles felt sorry for him, until he remembered what had
transpired last night and this morning.  Then what he'd done to
the young boy.  That was unforgivable.  He hoped that there would
be a special place in Jimmy Bob's hell for him and others like
him.
     Patrolman Dana Abbott hated to cuff Jimmy Bob's hands behind
him, he knew it was painful for him, but then remembered why they
were arresting him.  It took both patrolmen to get him out the
door and into the backseat of the patrol car.
     * * * * *
     The second patrolman, Tommy Raye, put Sammy's bicycle in the
backseat of his car and took him home.  His mother was there.
The patrolman explained what had happened and that they would
want to talk to Sammy later.  Sammy's mother, or course, was
aghast at what she was told.  Her husband had left that morning
on a business trip and she wouldn't be able to talk to him until
that evening.
     Miles followed the patrol car driven by Patrolman Dana
Abbott to the Police Station and parked in the visitors lot.
While he was waiting for them to get Jimmy Bob out of the
backseat, not an easy task, he called his editor at the Austin
American-Statesman and gave him a brief rundown on the morning's
happenings.
     "Can you be over here by 2:30?  We'll develop your pictures
and I'll help you write the story so we can get it out on the
wire by 4 o'clock.  I'll see to it that you are well-paid for
this story and pictures."
     "Yes, sir, unless we have some additional events take place
while the police is booking him."
     "Well, keep me informed of any new developments.  I'll hold
space on tomorrow's front page for this story."
     They managed to get a very tired and unhappy Rev. Jimmy Bob
Jones into the police station.  The Captain met them at the desk.
He looked at the sheet of paper in his hand, and then asked the
patrolman if Jimmy Bob had been read his rights.
     "Yes sir," replied Patrolman Dana Abbott.
     He looked at the minister.  "Do you want me to read the
charges against you or do you want for me to wait until your
attorney gets here?"
     Before he could answer, the patrolman said, "He hasn't had a
chance to call anyone, yet."
     "Then do you want to call an attorney or anyone else before
we book you?" the Captain asked.
     "I'd like to call the treasurer of my church.  He'll know
what to do."
     "Okay, take the cuffs off him, I don't think he's
dangerous," the Captain said.  "Take him in the office there,
pointing to a cubicle on the wall."
     Patrolman Dana walked him past Miles Truby, who received a
dirty look from the minister.  Miles was glad that looks couldn't
kill.
     While Jimmy Bob was calling Bret Jenkins at his office,
Miles pulled out his tape recorder, put a new tape in and
dictated a long memo to himself regarding what he had seen during
the morning.
     Amanda answered the phone at Morris Johnsmore's office and
directed the call to Bret.
     "Hello."
     "Bret, it's Jimmy Bob.  They've arrested me."
     "They surely can't arrest you for what we did last night?"
he said, fearing that the police would come walking into his
office any minute.
     "That's not what this is about.  I need your help and an
attorney.  I'm at the police station."
     "What are the charges?"  Bret couldn't think of anything
that Jimmy Bob would be in trouble for.
     "They are going to charge me with molesting a child - Sammy
Murdock."
     Bret remembered the Sunday afternoon he had gone to the
church and saw Sammy going in the building as he left.
     "Is it true?" Bret asked, almost panicking.
     "Yes, they caught me and that reporter from last night got
some pictures, too."
     "Okay, I'll be right there.  I'll have to figure out an
attorney.  Maybe I'll think of one on the way."
     "I'm not going anywhere, but I don't think they will read
the charges until I have somebody to help me, so it may be you."
     "I'll be there in five minutes," Bret told him.
     After he hung up, he tried to clear his mind.  His arm was
throbbing and he had a headache.  He decided to see if his boss
was in his office, so went down the hall.  Morris was working at
his desk.  Bret knocked on the doorframe.
     "Yes, Bret?"
     "Well, you were right this morning.  The shit is starting to
hit the fan."
     "I don't understand," Morris said.
     "They just arrested Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones for molesting a
child, a 10-year old boy.  He and his family go to our church."
     "I'm really sorry to hear that.  Do you think it's true?"
Morris asked.
     "He admitted it to me and they have a witness and pictures,
the guy who took the pictures and wrote the story about last
night."
     Morris sat there like he didn't believe what he was hearing.
This wasn't good, but if it were true it would be the end of the
Reverend Jimmy Bob Jones.
     "He asked me to come to the police station.  Do you know of
an attorney we can call?  We don't have one in our church."
     "Yeah, call Marcus Streeter.  He's kind of an ambulance
chaser, but he's honest."
     "Thanks.  I'll be back as soon as I can," Bret said.
     He went back to his office and called Marcus Streeter, who
questioned Bret, then said he would be at the police station in
10 minutes.
     * * * * *
     Morris picked up the telephone to call Fr. George.  He found
him at the rectory.
     "Fr. George, this is Morris Johnsmore."
     "Hello, Morris.  What can I do for you?"
     "You aren't going to believe this, but Bret just got a phone
call from Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones.  He's at the police station.
They've arrested him for molesting a child - a 10-year boy from
his congregation."
     "Oh no," Fr. George said.  "We've had some information that
something like this has been going on for several years, but
those who knew about it couldn't get the parents to press charges
or confront him about it."
     "You said to call you, so you've been informed," Morris
said.
     "I wish it was better news, but it may also solve a lot of
problems for a lot of people, too.  Thanks for letting me know.
I appreciate it and so do all the other members of our
organization."
     They hung up after exchanging goodbyes.
     * * * * *
     Fr. George immediately called Alan Zimmer, telling the
receptionist that it was urgent.  Since he had identified himself
as a priest, she paged him to come out of a meeting.
     "Hello," Alan said.
     "Alan, this is George Tikker."
     "Is everything alright?" he asked since they had just seen
each other the previous evening.
     "I just received a phone call from Bret Jenkins, Senior's
boss, who belongs to my parish.  It seems that Rev. Jimmy Bob
Jones has been arrested for molesting a 10-year old boy, whose
family are members of his church.  He's at the police station
now, waiting for an attorney."
     "Jeez. This story is almost like a soap opera, isn't it?"
     "I don't have any more information than what I've just told
you, but thought you might want to know about it," Fr. George
said.
     "I appreciate that.  We may offer to represent the boy and
his family and maybe this will make some of the others come
forward."
     "I hope so.  If I find out anything more, I'll let you know,
but thought you might want to know.  By the way, that was a good
article in the Austin paper this morning," Fr. George told him.
     "You might be interested to know that it was picked up by
most of the major papers from Texas to the west and the eastern
papers will have a story tomorrow.  I hope the reporter that was
at the rectory last night gets to cover this.  Should be a real
feather in his cap."
     "You're right.  And, he wasn't pushy, either."
     They told each other goodbye, promising to let the other
know if there were any new developments.
     * * * * *
     Marcus Streeter arrived at the police station about the same
time as Bret Jenkins.  They had never met, but Bret did know
Marcus by sight.  Marcus only knew that Bret was the treasurer of
the Victory Temple and that the church was having financial
problems.
     The police left Jimmy Bob in the cubicle where they had
taken him to make his phone call.  He debated about calling his
wife, but other than for putting in a "happy appearance" at
church for services and other events, they didn't communicate all
that much.  She didn't cook and part of the reason Jimmy Bob was
so obese was that he ate all the wrong kinds of fast food - for
every meal.
     What Jimmy Bob didn't know was that his wife, Marlene, was
just what she appeared to be...  the loving wife of a bigoted,
fundamentalist, poorly educated minister.  She would follow him
and smile at everyone because he was a good provider, but that
was as far as it went.  He didn't press her for sex, in fact they
had actually only had successful sex a couple of times in the 14
years they had been married.  It wasn't satisfying to either of
them and the mere idea of sleeping with the fat slob her husband
had become turned her stomach.
     Instead she had been keeping her needs fulfilled by a series
of younger men.  The current one was 25 and an instructor in the
Computer Science Department at Western JuCo.  While she was no
intellectual match for him, he had a big dick and knew how to use
it, at least she was satisfied.  She made no demands on him
except for a romp between the sheets 3 or four times a week,
which they both enjoyed.  She was easily satisfied, had a good
body and pert tits that he loved to lave with his tongue.
     Jimmy Bob was always willing to accept her explanation that
she was meeting with a ladies group, so it was never any problem
for her to get away to go to his apartment.
     He wouldn't have found her at home, even if he wanted to
call her.
     * * * * *
     Bret and Marcus Streeter were shown into the cubicle where
Jimmy Bob was sitting.  He looked much older than his 38-years.
The evening and the day had not been kind to him.
     Marcus introduced himself and they got down to business.
     "Have they charged you, yet?" he asked Jimmy Bob?
     "No, they just arrested me and read me my rights.  When we
got here they wanted to know if I wanted an attorney and let me
make a telephone call.  I called Bret and you're both here now.
     "Okay, do you know what the charges are going to be?"
     "I don't know exactly how they'll word it, but it's for
molesting a 10-year old boy," Jimmy Bob answered.
     "This is client-attorney privilege and it stays in this
room, but I need to know if you are guilty and before you answer
that, do you want Bret to leave the room so we can talk?"
     "No, he can stay.  He's loyal to me. or at least he has been
up to this point.  Yes, I'm guilty as charged."
     Bret wasn't sure he wanted to be in the room, but he was
pleased that Jimmy Bob thought he could trust him.
     "Okay, we can try to beat this.  It isn't going to look good
in your case, since you're a minister, but this won't be the
first case like it and there are precedents in other courts, so
we have those rulings to go on.  My fee is $15,000, payable in
thirds.  Part at the beginning after the hearing today, a third
when we start building your defense and the balance before we go
to trial."
     Jimmy Bob looked at Bret with sadness.  He didn't know if
they had the money to fight this.
     "What happens if I just plead guilty now?  Will it be any
different if we go to trial and lose?  What if the parents of the
other boys file charges against me?"
     Bret couldn't believe what he was hearing.  "There had been
other young boys?"
     If we allow this to go to court, we can probably plead
temporary insanity and you might serve part of your sentence in a
psychiatric facility, but we're probably still looking at a total
of five years.  If you plead guilty and go to jail, you could
still get five years, but if others take you to court, you could
get a lot more time.  I need to warn you that the other prisoners
don't look kindly on child molesters."
     Marcus thought to himself.  'He'll not live to see the end
of his sentence unless they isolate him for his own safety.'
     Brett felt a cold chill go down his back.
     Reverend Jimmy Bob didn't know what he felt, except cold and
numb.
     "If you want, I'll go with you to be charged.  Do you think
you can raise bail?  It will probably be $50,000."  Bret and
Jimmy Bob looked at each other again.  Neither thought they could
get their hands on that kind of money.
     Marcus realized that they probably didn't know how a bail
bond worked.
     "Generally you have to put up 10% in cash or collateral.
What kind of car do you have and is it clear?"
     Bret said, "It's an '89 Cadillac Sedan Deville and the
church owes about $5,000 on it."
     "That would probably work for a bondsman.  I'll talk to him
if you want me to."
     "That would be okay.  I'm the church treasurer and we're
struggling to make an upcoming mortgage payment," Bret said.
     'Yeah, and after this you won't need to worry about that
anymore,' Marcus thought.
     The three men walked out of the cubicle.  They waited for
the judge to arrive and the arraignment took place.  Marcus
talked to the bondsman and made arrangements for him to secure
the bond with the title to the Cadillac until they could make
other arrangements tomorrow.
     * * * * *
     Bret took Jimmy Bob back to the church in his small Toyota
Corolla, then followed him to his house.  It was a major project
to get him in and out of the little car.  He didn't see Marlene's
car.
      He looked at his watch.  It was 3:30.  His arm was
throbbing, he had a headache that wouldn't quit and he felt
weary, so drove back to his office, got his pills and told Amanda
he was taking the rest of the day off.  Morris wasn't there, so
he couldn't talk to him.
     While driving home, he was mulling everything over in his
mind.  It was like everything had been dumped in a blender and
spun around.  Fragmented thoughts seemed to be leaking out of his
brain and nothing made any sense.
     The minivan was in the driveway, so he knew his wife was
home.  He didn't know what time the children got home from
school.
     Beth was in the kitchen.  Bret walked over to kiss her on
the cheek.  She turned around in surprise.
     "That's the first time you've done that in a year," she
said.
     "Has it really been that long?" he asked.
     "Yes, at least.  You're home way early, is everything okay?"
she asked.
     "No, it's not.  Something really terrible happened today."
     She put her hands up to her face.  "You didn't get fired did
you?"
     "No, but Morris wasn't very happy when he came to work this
morning.  He ordered me and you and the kids, too, to get family
counseling.  I didn't realize how badly this church mess had been
grinding on me until today."
     "I know, you've been an entirely different person this past
year.  And instead of tender love, you've almost raped me when we
had sex - the few times that happened, too," Beth told him.
     "I'm sorry.  I really am."
     They hugged each other and exchanged a kiss.
     "You aren't going to believe what happened today.  I don't
believe it myself, but Jimmy Bob admitted it to my face."
     "What's that, it sounds serious."
     "Serious doesn't even begin to describe it.  He was caught
in his office molesting Sammy Murdock just about lunch time."
     Beth paled.  "What?"  She was stunned.
     "He admitted it.  He was arrested, arraigned and released on
bond.  He admitted his guilt to Marcus Streeter, who may
represent him, and to me.  I'm not sure the church can afford to
defend him and word about this will drive a lot of people away
who attend there."
     "I find this hard to believe," Beth said.
     "Jimmy Bob asked Marcus what would happen if the other boy's
parents filed charges against him."
     "There's been more?" Beth questioned.
     "He admitted to it.  Marcus said that he could get five
years, with part of it in a psychiatric facility and part in
jail, but he warned him that other prisoners did not look kindly
on child molesters," Bret said.
     "That's terrible, but if he's guilty..."
     Beth didn't get to finish her sentence.  Terry and Sally
arrived home from school.  They weren't comfortable that their
father was in the room, but he seemed to be in a better mood than
the night before.
     Bret knew he had tall fences to mend.
     "Terry and Sally, I'm sorry about the way I've been acting
this past year.  I've agreed to talk to a counselor about the
problems I've been having.  I realize that I've hurt all of you
and want you to know I'm sorry.  I'm going to do better."
     Sally flew to her Dad's arms, then spied the cast for the
first time.
     "Daddy, I love you."  She settled in his lap and gave him a
kiss.  "That's a neat cast.  I like the color."
     "It's kinda bright, isn't it?" Terry asked.
     Bret returned Sally's kiss.  'Yes, but I get a new cast on
Thursday.  The next one is going to be the color of my skin.
I'll see to it."
     "You kids go change your clothes, then get started on your
homework," Beth said.
     They were off to their rooms, acting as if nothing had
happened.
     "Beth, do you think we can get Bret Junior to come home this
evening?"
     "I don't know.  Let me call and see."
     She punched in the number Eddie gave her the night before.
Tom answered the phone.
     "Eddie?" Beth asked.  It didn't sound like him.
     "This is Tom.  Eddie probably won't be here for about a half
hour."
     "Tom, this is Beth Jenkins.  My husband and I would like to
talk to Bret Junior and his Dad wants to apologize to him and see
if he will come home with us."
     "He's doing his homework.  I'll let you talk to him."
     Tom handed the phone to Bret.
     "Hi Mom.  Errr. is everything okay?"
     "Bret, your Dad wants to apologize to you and he's agreed to
get help to manage his anger, he realizes what caused the problem
and he's going to deal with it."
     "Okay." he was hesitant.
     Beth handed the phone to her husband.
     "Bret, I'm sorry for what happened last night.  I didn't
realize until my boss talked some sense into me this morning what
a fool I've been; and then this afternoon something else happened
that drove the point further home.  I've been an ass and I've
agreed to go to a counselor to work through my problems.  And Mr.
Johnsmore has insisted that all of you go to a family counselor
so that we can all deal with my problems and understand them
together."
     "Okay."  He was still hesitant.
     "Can your mother and I come over and talk to you?  If you
would come home with us, I'd like that very much.  If you want to
stay there another night, then that's fine, but we really want to
talk to you about some things," Bret told his son.
     "Let me ask Tom," he said.
     "Is it okay if my parents come over to talk to me?  They
want me to go home with them, but said I could stay here if I
felt I needed to."
     "I don't know why not, but Eddie will be here in about a
half hour.  Tell them that we will call them as soon as he gets
home.  I know he will want to talk to them, too," Tom said.
     "Dad?"
     "Yes."
     "Tom said that Eddie would be home in about a half hour.  He
would like for him to be here when we talk.  Is that okay?"
     "Yes, I think that would be fine," Bret Senior said.
     "Okay.  We'll call you as soon as he gets here.
     "We'll be waiting.  Goodbye, son."
     "Bye, Dad."
     * * * * *
     "How do you feel about going back home?" asked Tom.
     "He says he's sorry and is going to get some help from a
counselor to deal with his anger and the rest of us are supposed
to go, too.  His boss is making him do it."
     "How do you feel about that?" Tom asked.
     "It sounds like he's trying.  Can I come back here if it
doesn't work out?"
     "Yes, I'm just concerned that he'll go back to his old ways,
but we'll just have to trust him.  Right?" Tom said.
     Eddie came home about that time.  He gave Tom a kiss on the
lips, then squeezed Bret's shoulder as he walked past.  "How's my
guys tonight?"  Eddie was in a good mood.
     Bret thought that Tom and Eddie showed a lot more love for
each other than his parents did.  He wondered if he, himself, was
really gay or just confused.
     "I'm okay," Bret said.
     The TV on the kitchen counter was turned on and the 5
o'clock news from the Austin station was just starting.  The lead
story.
     "Williamsport minister arrested on child molestation
charges."
     The three looked at each other in disbelief.
     The story continued.
     "Reverend Jimmy Bob Jones was arrested about noon today in
his office at the Victory Temple in Williamsport.  The incident
happened shortly after the reporter responsible for the newspaper
story of the confrontation between the minister and a group of
gay men and women, had interviewed the minister to get his side
of the story just before noon today.
     "The reporter, Miles Truby is in our newsroom right now.
Miles."
     "Yes, Ann (the co-anchor); Last night I was present when
Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones and Bret Jenkins, Senior were caught spying
on those attending a meeting of the Dignity/Integrity group,
which is sponsored by St. James Episcopal Church in Williamsport.
The two men planned to identify those attending the meeting and
were going to make their names public as being, and I quote,
'dangerous to society'.
     "Today, I visited with the Rev. Jones in his office at the
Victory Temple where he very graciously gave me his time and
explained his position on the matter.  As I was leaving his
office, I encountered a young boy, 10-years old, who asked me if,
and I quote, 'I was ready for him.'  He explained that sometimes
there was another man present when he came to Rev. Jones office.
My suspicions were aroused, so I killed some time in the
building, then went back to the office area.  All the lights have
been turned off except those in the minister's office.
     "Both the 10-year old boy and Rev. Jones had their clothes
off and appeared to be performing a sexual act.  I called the
police on my cell phone from another area of the building.  They
sent an officer.  We both witnessed what was going on.  I took
two pictures with my camera.  The police arrested the minister;
he has been arraigned and is out on $50,000 bail.  The pictures I
took, along with some others have been given to the District
Attorney's office.
     "Thank you, Miles Truby, special correspondent in
Williamsport for channel 36.
     There was a commercial break.
     "Jeez." Tom said.  "I can't believe this.  Tell me it's not
so."
     "Well, it happened to Bret, and I can't believe it stopped
after that," Eddie said.
     "I wonder who the boy was?" Bret said.  "Am I gonna have to
talk to the police?"
     "That's up to you, but I would encourage you to do so.
Maybe it will help bring closure to the incident you experienced
and also help your family to forgive each other, too," Eddie
said.
     "Should I have my folks come over here now?" he asked.
     "Bret, that's up to you.  If you think your Dad is sincere,
you will probably be okay.  If you feel you want to stay here,
you are welcome to do so," Eddie told him.
     "I want to talk to him.  I wonder if he saw this story?"
Bret asked.
     "There's only one way to find out.  Call him," Tom said.
     Bret picked up the telephone and punched in the number.  The
line was busy.
     * * * * *
     The line was busy because if the Jenkins phone had been
capable of handling 50 lines, they would have all been busy.
After the third call, the phone was taken off the hook and
allowed to beep its annoying "off hook" signal.
     The first call simply said, "Are you watching the Austin NBC
channel.  If not, turn it on."
     While Bret fielded the next two calls, Beth turned on the
TV.  Both were stunned at hearing Bret's name being mentioned.
     After the story ran, Bret called Tom and Eddie's house.
"Tom answered the phone."
     "Is this Eddie Thompson?" Bret asked, looking at the card
Eddie had given Beth the night before.
     "No, this is Tom.  Just a minute."
     "Hello," Eddie said.
     "Unnhh. This is Bret Jenkins.  Our phone has been swamped
with calls and I thought maybe you might have tried to call us."
     "Yes, Bret just tried to call and got a busy signal."
     "Did you see the story on the news?" he asked.
     "Yes, Bret, I'm sorry that you were identified as being one
of Jimmy Bob's disciples.  That puts you in line to take flack
that should be directed at Rev. Jones."
     "Well, I can't do anything about that.  Is it okay if Beth
and I come over to talk to Bret Junior?  I really need to
apologize to him and explain all that's happened," Bret said.
     "He had tried to call you to say it's okay, but couldn't get
through.  So come on over," Eddie told him.
     "We'll be there in a few minutes," Bret told Eddie.
     He and Beth told the three children (Paul had arrived home,
also) that they would be back a little later and hoped that their
brother would be with them.  "We'll go to Tony D's for pizza
after we get back home, okay?" Bret asked.
     "Yea!!!" was the response.
     "We're leaving the phone off the hook.  You can call out,
but don't answer it, okay?" Beth asked.
     The three children didn't know what was going on, but agreed
to the request.
     * * * * *
     Bret and Beth left in the minivan, with Beth driving.
Bret's arm hurt, badly, but he was too hyped up to notice the
pain.
     Beth parked in front of the house, at Bret's direction.
"This looks like a nice house.  You'd never think that some
'fags' lived here."  Bret was laughing at his own joke.  Suddenly
he felt freer than he had in a long time.  It was like something
had been released in his head.
     Bret Junior opened the door as they approached the porch.
The three wrapped their arms about the other, all crying tears of
joy.
     Tom and Eddie were standing, watching in amazement.
     Finally, the group broke their clutch on each other.  Eddie
held the door open so they could enter the house, shaking hands
with Bret and Beth, introducing themselves.
     Bret was thinking, "These guys don't act like 'fags' as
Jimmy Bob had told him.  He was wondering what this was all
about.  They didn't seem any different than any other married
couple, except that they were both men.
     Beth was thinking about how tasteful the house was.  Nice
furniture and appointments.
     Let's go sit in the living room," Tom suggested.
     They settled in chairs, Tom and Eddie taking the love seat.
     There was a moment of strained silence.
     Eddie spoke up.  "We saw the news.  I'm sorry that your
friend, Rev. Jimmy Bob got caught, but this has gone on long
enough.  Tom and I counseled three boys that had been abused by
Jimmy Bob.  We talked to the parents, but they refused to press
charges.  They were scared of the minister."
     "I guess that we should have gone to confront him, but quite
frankly, we didn't know if it would do any good since we couldn't
back our information," Tom added.
     "Dad. and Mom."  Bret Junior was hesitant.  "I had the same
thing happen to me that happened to the boy at the church today."
     "What!!!??" almost as one voice.
     "Yes, do you remember about 5 or six years ago, when Jimmy
Bob used to find things for me to do to help out around the
church?"
     "Yes," Beth said.  "We were proud that he thought you were
good help."
     "That wasn't why he wanted me at the church."  Bret got
tears in his eyes.
     "The first time it happened, I needed to go to the bathroom.
He followed me in there and peed at the same time I did."
     He hesitated.
     "Mom. I'm sorry if I use bad words, but this is what
happened."
     Beth indicated that he should continue.
     "Anyway, he pulled his. penis out of his boxer shorts.  I'd
never seen anything like it.  It looked like it was huge and
there was a lot of hair around it.  He asked me if I wanted to
touch it, so I did.  He started rubbing me. down there. and it
felt good.  His. penis leaked a lot of slippery fluid.  He made
me taste it."
     Beth gave an audible gasp.
     "It was pretty yukky."
     He paused to gather his thoughts.
     "This went on for about three years.  I used to try to make
myself feel as good as he made me feel.  Finally one day I was
able to make some of that stuff squirt out of my. penis.  I was
so proud that this could happen to me, too.
     "The next time I was with Jimmy Bob I'd just noticed that I
was growing some hair around my. penis.  I was anxious to show
him that I now had hair, too.  Anyway, he was rubbing me and I
got all excited.  Before I could warn him, that stuff shot out of
my. penis, and it got all over him.  He got mad.  He told me. and
he'd told me before, too. that if I ever told anybody what we
did, that I'd go to hell.
     Dad. Mom. I believed him.  I was scared to death.  I was
confused because he wouldn't talk to me again and ignored me
unless I was with you.  I didn't know what had happened and
didn't realize until the other day that he didn't want anything
to do with me because I was growing up.  He only liked little
boys."
     Bret headed to the chairs where his parents were seated and
the three of them embraced each other again.
     Tom and Eddie sat there with tears running down their
cheeks.
     Bret continued.  "I thought all this time that I was queer -
I guess the right word is 'gay' - because it felt good and I
enjoyed him playing with me.  Now I'm not sure but I've met a lot
of gay people and they didn't try to recruit me to be gay, too.
     Tom and Eddie laughed.
     Bret Senior and Beth joined in.  Then Bret Junior.
     Tom spoke up.  "One of the big problems gay people have is
people like Jimmy Bob.  Eddie and I would never think of doing
something like he did, yet we catch the flack for people like
him.  I don't know how you would classify Jimmy Bob.  I don't
think he is gay, but obviously he has a problem in that he's a
pedophile, liking young boys.  He obviously doesn't like boys who
are starting into puberty because the three boys we counseled all
had the same problem as Bret.  As soon as they started maturing,
he dropped them, but never told them why."
     "Of course, this caused all kinds of guilt and fear, since
Jimmy Bob threatened them with going to hell.  What boy is going
to tell anyone with that hanging over their head?  Hell is a
mighty harsh punishment for a young boy who is really the
innocent victim," Eddie added.
     Bret Senior spoke up.  "I'm hesitant to ask this, but are
you guys. gay, I guess is the right word?"
     "Since you asked a question, I think without malice, Yes, we
are.  But I want to clarify that we are devoted to each other.
Neither of us would think of doing anything with anyone else, but
a boy who was under 21 would be unthinkable.  Now don't get me
wrong, there are some who wouldn't hesitate, but I hope they are
in the minority," Eddie said.
     Tom continued.  "We would like to be able to take a young
boy, probably one who is gay and has been kicked out of his home
by narrow-minded parents, into our home and nurture him as if he
was our own son, to help him with his sexual identity - but he
would be our son, not someone we would take advantage of."
     "I'm confused about Dale and the guy he lives with and the
boy Dale introduces as his son," Bret said.
     "Joey is Dale's half-brother.  Dale didn't even know that
Joey existed until last Monday.  Their father died on Friday
evening.  Again, Dale hadn't seen his father for 13 years, but he
was called to his father's bedside last week, found out he had a
half-brother and was asked if he would take care of him.  Dale
and Craig are a male couple.  Joey calls both of them 'Dad'
because he wants to be able to call someone by that name.  He
doesn't want to favor one over the other, so even though Dale is
his legal guardian, they are both his new Dads," Tom explained.
     "I just have a hard time with all of this 'gay stuff'.  I
guess I expect those people to be effeminate and yet, those of
you I've seen and met the last few days are anything but that.  I
guess I'm confused."
     "Well, I guess that's something that can easily happen.
Certainly there are plenty out there like you describe, but I
would say that the majority of us, certainly around Williamsport,
are people you would never guess were gay.  We don't go out and
march in parades, we try to treat others as we want to be treated
and we also try to blend into the community and do our best to
make it a good place to live.  What we do in the privacy of our
own bedroom is our business, not yours or anyone else's, Eddie
said.
     "So you're telling me that you don't want to do anything
with Bret. even though he stayed in your house last night?" Bret
asked.
     "If Bret Junior depended on us to show him about sex of any
form or shape, he would very quickly starve to death.  We'll be
glad to answer any questions he might have, but we wouldn't touch
him even if he instigated it," Tom told them.
     "Tell me this.  How many gay people do you think live in
Williamsport?" Bret Senior asked.
     "A lot more. a great many more. than you think," Eddie said.
     Bret got a funny look on his face.  "You mean that everybody
wasn't there last night?"
     Both Tom and Eddie laughed.
     "No, not by any means.  There are a lot who would never
allow themselves to be identified as gay.  Either because they
live alone and keep to themselves, or in some cases, gay men who
have married and raised a family because of the pressure or
parents or society to do so, and then there are many more who
don't discover until later in life that they really are gay.
Some have refused to admit it and others may not do anything
about their desires until a spouse dies," Tom told them.
     "Or until children are out of high school or college and
they decide that they have lived with their own lie for too long,
and declare themselves to be gay.  Society is much more tolerant
of everyone's lifestyle now than twenty years ago, but it's still
going to take many more years for everyone to respect each other.
especially where bigots such as Jimmy Bob are concerned," Eddie
added.
     "Fellows, I have to tell you this.  I've been a victim of
someone else's prejudice for too long.  I'm not going to promise
that I'll get over it immediately.  It's going to take some time.
but I've never known any gay people. at least that I know about.
but I'm proud to know the two of you and I hope I have a chance
to apologize to the rest of your group," Bret said.
     "Thanks for being honest.  I think that both Tom and I
appreciate your candor and willingness to sit down and talk to
the two of us.  I think you will find that with the rest of us,
although some are as suspicious of straight people as you are of
gay people," Eddie said.
     All of them laughed.
     "Can we still be friends?" Bret Junior asked.
     "Sure, but the same rules apply as we talked about last
night.  We don't discuss what goes on in this house outside the
doors, okay?" Tom asked.
     "Deal," Bret Junior said, meaning it.
     Bret Senior and Beth stood up.
     "Thank you for seeing to Bret Juniors' safety last night.
My boss has insisted that I go to counseling and that my family
and I also see a family counselor to work through this.  I think
I better understand the problems I've been confronted with in the
last year, and the events of the last two days have made me
rethink this whole crusade that Jimmy Bob has been on," Bret
Senior said.
     "We'll be glad to talk to the three of you anytime you want.
Just love each other and be there for the other's needs and we'll
treasure your friendship," Tom said.
     "Certainly," Eddie added.
     The Jenkins family left to go home after Bret Junior
retrieved his belongings from the room he'd used.  Eddie got his
bicycle out of the garage and helped Bret Junior load it in their
minivan.
     They stood at the curb and watched the van go down the
street, Beth driving because Bret Senior's arm was still causing
pain.
     As they walked to the house, Eddie said, "Are you serious
about taking in a young boy who is having problems?"
     "Yes, I think we would be good parents and could give a lot
of guidance," Tom said.
     Eddie pinched him on the butt as they were walking back to
the house.
     "How about we make one of our own?" he leered, kissing Tom
on the side of his face.
     * * * * *
     (to be continued)
     * * * * *
     Author's Note:  I would appreciate your comments, criticism,
suggestions, and anything else that you would care to say.  All
Email will be answered.  If you wish to receive e-mail
notification of subsequent postings, please let me know by
sending your request to the following e-mail address:
TulsaDriller7@aol.com
     I appreciate an alert reader taking the time to write and
tell me that the "rotator cuff" is in the shoulder and not the
wrist, as told in the last chapter.  I think the proper term is
"carpus".
     Thanks for the overwhelming response to previous chapters.
I have received positive replies from all over the world.  My
special thanks for proofreading help to Paul Daventon, who has
taken time to help me catch obvious errors.