Date: Mon, 22 Jan 2024 20:53:07 +0000 From: Scribbler Lad Subject: Bus Station Bobby - Part 7 Bus Station Bobby - Part A story about a chance encounter in the rain between Frank an office worker and Bobby, a 17 year old out of towner both caught up in a storm. Things are hotting up for Frank, he's only gone and bought a farm and is building a new life. Please donate to nifty, to maintain the hardware to serve the stories up, to publish new ones and to organise and maintain the archive. https://donate.nifty.org/ Comments gladly received, email me at scribblerlad@hotmail.com Bus Station Bobby - Part 7 - in court The day arrived at Salem District Court for the hearing of the kidnapping and attempted murder of Dot, Bobby and Lonnie. We dressed smartly and drove to the courthouse. Our attorney met us and we talked us through the incident and the testimony we were to give. He emphasised that at all times we must answer truthfully, but only the question asked, without embellishment or reasoning, just the question posed nothing more, nothing less. He practiced on us all with one question, we say how easy it is to say more, to want to give our side, to take control, to put our view. `Zip it!' He said. Now we understood. The prosecution outlined that on the day in question that the defendant kidnapped his wife and sons with the aim of killing them in cold blood. A premeditated action to remove the stain of shame from himself. The defence opening statement told us the direction of their defence, that the father was doing what any father would do, to defend his dear son from the clutches of a determined and ruthless homosexual paedophile, preying on children, his children. The courtroom gasped when this defence was read out. The gallery shook their heads, eyes firmly fixed on me. The judge ordered silence and the prosecution called the police chief, who outlined what happened on the day and under questioning the many occasions when residents and members of the family calling out the police when charges of assault were made initially and then dropped by Dot. It soon became clear that the defendant was being described as a nasty, vicious piece of work, hell bent on destruction, drinking, borrowing, gambling and whoring around as the witnesses stated their individual knowledge of actions never associated with each other before. The defence sought to undermine this information by questioning the probity of well known and good characters in the town and so outraging the public gallery. I was called by the defence to outline how I met their son. I gave almost monosyllabic answers forcefully denying their assertions that I was not a Good Samaritan rescuing the minor from a storm but a predator. I was able to answer the questions truthfully but I stumbled on a question of having penetrative sex with the minor as in the morning after I had. When I answered yes to a question about having penetrated a minor, the courtroom gasped, the defence attorney smiled. The prosecution objected stating that whateverer happened that night was by consent and not a reason why a man should kidnap, bribe and attempt to kill his family and that in two months time the boy would have passed the age of consent. The judge ordered that the court be adjourned until the morning. The morning papers were ugly, with headlines `paedo farmer has sex with minor' and pictures of the farm and my photo from the BPI website and me in shorts and vest on the company charity 5k race, beaming as I crossed the line. We had another day in court. The judge confirmed with the jury that I was not being prosecuted here and that it was the defendant who is on trial. The prosecution called more witnesses to confirm that the defendant was known to be untrustworthy and a bad character. Teachers confirmed bruising on Bobby and cuts and black eyes to his wife, the farm shop often being closed due to him beating her. Bobby was called, he confirmed the actions on the day of the flood, that his father had caught him having penetrative sex with another boy, and that he had beaten him up and threw him out of the house and that he had threatened to kill him if he ever saw him again, and that he taken a bus to Boston where in the terrible weather that I had saved him, rescuing and sheltering him in the offices. The defence tried to make Bobby agree that he had been approached by me and that I'd agreed to pay him for sex. Bobby denied this breaking down. The defence asked Bobby if I had sex with him that night. Bobby had to say yes but it was the following morning. The defence called the police officer who had knocked on the door that night. The courtroom gasped as he outlined his own interpretation of what he saw, an older man on the couch with the boy, the prosecutor asked the officer to say exactly what he saw, piece by piece and he had to agree that he actually saw nothing but a man clothed in tracksuit and a boy in an ill fitting tracksuit in a room that had a couch and wet clothes from the rain and that everything else was in his imagination. The policeman agreed. The prosecution called Bobby and asked him to detail his sexual life and history, he bravely said he had sex with other boys at various times through his teens and that on the night he was grateful to me for sheltering him, that he fancied me, that I had a fit body and that he wanted to have sex with me and that he initiated the intimacy. The prosecution said that this was the record of many young people and it is not the sexual proclivities of the defendants son that was at question here, and that it was the financial, social and moral cliff edge that the drunk, gambling, untrustworthy wife beating and child beating defendants actions had created that lead him to an attempt to murder his family after his bribery attempt had failed. That it was because of the quickness of thought of his wife Dot in saving their lives that it wasn't multiple murder. The prosecution offered no further witnesses. The defence tried to make it sound that any law abiding husband would have done the same when faced with a rampant homosexual son and a predatory male father figure `entering his son', then pausing before adding `s life'. The jury was sent out and court adjourned until the next day. The company had removed my photo and bio and all reference to me by name. I was stated merely as a 51% plus stock holder. The papers covered the case as front page news, questioning the police handling of the case and why I was not in the dock for having sex with a minor. The jury reconvened and they found the defendant guilty but only by a slim majority. The judge sentenced him to 10 years for bribery, kidnapping and attempted murder. A light sentence. We returned to the farm and `paedo' had been sprayed across the shop shutters and the bigots had broken in to the farm and sprayed `homo' acros a wall of the new house. I just wanted to leave. I worked out quickly in my head that I could cut my losses and by selling my share of BPI pay off the farm loans, sell up and move to a small place somewhere out of Boston with Bobby and startup again. That night, sobbing into my laptop, reading and deleting abusive messages I checked the BPI referrals site and found 47 applications for farm insurance, I prepared the quotes immediately and replied to them all. Almost instantly 37 accepted these and BPI signed them up. Over the evening another 9 were accepted and 14 more applications were made. I replied to these and calculated that this was 70 new applications, over $250k new business. I called Joe, he said that the farmers around knew what an asshole Bobbys dad was and that you'd done all you could to save the family unit, that this was a there way of supporting you, and also it's a good deal! I was to expect more enquiries as Joe had posted the link on his farm community pages. Dot came across with Bobby and a plated hot meal for me. Then Wayne and Warren came over with a pudding. Dot washed up and we settled down on the sofa and watched TV silently in the new house. Dot left first then the boys drifted off to bed. Bobby was in my bed as I slipped between the sheets. He asked me if I'd go to jail because of him? I said I didn't know. I was going to call my attorney tomorrow, so for now it's cuddles only. The next morning Bobby bravely went to school with Lonnie and Warren. I opened my laptop and saw another 15 applications and by 11 am it was up to 36, by 7pm it was 62 for the day. Joe rang and asked if he could by an RV yet with the commission and for me to take it easy, everyone knows what a saint Dot is, that you are well respected and folks soon forget. Wayne worked on the planting and prep of new ground. Dot opened the shop, we refreshed the stock, I ordered new signage and work clothes for `Bobbys Farm Shop'. I got a local lad to do a Facebook page and a website, a loval printer did a 1000 flyers that the boys handed out in town. In all we signed up just over 200 new insurance clients, at a very low cost per new client ratio and the referral scheme got Joey a new RV for himself, a truck for his son, plus lots of goodies for the farmers passing the link on making me a popular guy, I'd hear stories about a strimmer or leaf blower changing their lives! The shop sales picked up, we had this `one stop shop' idea and so bought in what we didn't grow from other local farmers who got a much bigger cut than selling wholesale or to a cannery. I worked out the seasonal gluts on a spreadsheet and pivoted the table to see the distribution for a good and poor season to control risk. Dot gave each farm a planting schedule to lengthen their season an reduce gluts and so keeping prices higher. We contracted to buy their next crop at a rate set now which went down well, my taking their risk in a new company formed in Delaware called `Redhead Cooperative Farming', essentially to buy and sell theirs and our produce to our own shop and to other shops who applied to join the cooperative and pay an annual fee which got them access to better rates on their farm, home and car insurance. Locals who had their own market gardens could join the coop at a lower rate and swap their gluts for wha they didn't have or put it towards their home or car insurance. We became popular with local farmers, townsfolk and especially the many ginger families around who took well to the Redhead brand. Heck Joe said I should be paying him royalties on the name, cheeky! We started selling meat alongside the pies supplied by our local town butcher, on commission, not in cash but to be put against their insurance, of course. The butcher was eventually selling more pies to us than in his own shop, the bakery did the same and soon we really were a `one stop shop', we extended parking on a piece of poor scrubland and hired out craft stalls selling trinkets and pet supplies as the locals parked up and found a shaded route under the stalls to the shop. We took on girls from neighbouring farms to work after school and weekends and eventually full time to pack and prepare the produce into saleable, weighed and priced trays and bundles, speeding up customers time buying a weekly shop and somwhat hiding the higher $ per pound weight! Turnover multiplied and the farm was now at full growing capacity meaning we could select to grow higher profitability crops and leave the lower margin crops to neighbours to grow under contract. Everyone was happy. RCF made a healthy profit enabling us to subsidise the town fete and 4th July celebrations. Bobbys Farm Shop also turned a healthy profit which I used to pay down some of the loans on the new equipment. Wayne and Warren moved in with us to the new house. Dot felt she still had too much on with the house and the shop. She was tiring, we reduced her hours to two in the morning and last hour on an evening for cashing and locking up, leaving her to `do for her boys', cooking for us and cleaning both houses. I made sure the boys kept their rooms tidy and ensured they did their own laundry, keeping spunky sheets and shitty boxers out of Dots view. Bobby was doing well at school, he finally had his own car, we put one on CF's books as he actually collected smaller produce loads on his way home from school, dropping local kids off on the way. Wayne had restored an old farm truck which he loved, different coloured scrap panels and doors but he had the engine working as smooth as it ever was, stripping it down and rebuilding it almost blindfold. As for the sex, since Bobby was over 16 he was legal, had he been a girl it would be very simple, but as a man and my being older by 11 years then it could be argued in court that I held undue influence over him, owning the farm etc. and in that case our love could be deemed as statutory rape. A risk too far given our history. We kept to separate bedroom's, mostly and I'd always let Bobby penetrate and blow me but I only ever beat him off in a multitude of ways to excite a 17 year olds never ending supply of vigor and cum. I was waiting patiently, watching my stud grow, spraying his seed all over me. It was a new life and lots of fun. TBC.