Date: Sun, 24 Mar 2013 15:54:48 -0400 (EDT)
From: ErastesTouch@aol.com
Subject: Different Points of View, chapter 19

Different Points of View - by Erastes
Copyright 2012 by Erastes
Chapter 19 – The Accusations.

Once the cops placed me in their squad car, we headed off to the police station.
I can tell you that I certainly found the experience to be scary, intimidating and
humiliating.  When we arrived at the station, I was taken into the booking area
and fingerprinted, before I was led to another area where they took my mug
shots.  In my naivete, I made this entire experience very easy and provided them
with everything they needed.  I'm certain that you're wondering what I'm talking
about, so I'll explain.

It began when they took my fingerprints and the officers asked me to wash my
hands first, which I obediently did.  Later, after I had a chance to discuss this with
someone who had been through this process before, I learned that career
criminals, as well as those who are wise to the procedure, are not quite as
cooperative.  They use their knowledge about how this works to prevent the
authorities from getting readable or identifiable prints by using a variety of tricks.

As one inmate later explained, most of those who had been through the system
before would use the time while they were waiting to be processed to continually
rub their fingers into the dirt on the floor, while pretending to tie their shoes or
doing other things.  They do this in an attempt to get very small grains of dirt to
stick to the oils in their skin, in order to obscure the ridges I their fingertips and
make the results look different.  Others might carry a tube of Chap Stick in their
pockets, which they would smear over their fingertips before being printed, again
to blur the ridges on their fingers.  Doing these types of things often made the
prints taken to be unreliable and prevented them from being used to identify them
again later.

If you were able to do either of those things, then when the officer in charge
asked you to wash your hands, to remove any foreign debris from your fingertips,
you would utilize another trick.  Those knowing how to beat the system would
comply, but they would only allow the soap and water to come into contact with
the palms of their hands, which they would vigorously rub together, to make it
appear as if they were doing what they'd been told.  Then, when they were given
a paper towel to dry their hands, they would do something similar and merely roll
it between their palms, without letting it touch their fingertips.  I thought this was
pretty ingenious and wished I'd known about it sooner, but I would learn even
more as I met others who were wise to various criminal ways.

After the booking process had been completed, I was taken into a room to be
interrogated about the charges against me, but fortunately I had seen enough
cop and lawyer shows on TV to know enough to ask for an attorney first, before I
responded to any of their questions.  I was then allowed to make a phone call,
but the only attorney I knew was the one I used to go over my contracts with the
book publishers and handled my financial affairs.  Although I knew this wasn't his
field of expertise, I called him just the same, hoping he would be able to find me
a lawyer who was versed in criminal law.

"Good afternoon, Coughlin, Gerhart, Hinman and Kattell," the receptionist
answered.

"Hello, may I speak with Jack Coughlin, please?" I asked, with my heart racing a
mile a minute.

"May I ask who is calling?" she wanted to know.

"Yes.  Tell him it's Bob Cox," I replied, hoping he'd take my call.

"Certainly, Mr. Cox.  Just one second, please," she announced.

I was temporarily placed on hold while the secretary informed my attorney I was
on the line.  After a slight delay, he answered.

"Hello, Bob.  What might I do for you today?" he asked, in a very cheery tone.

The problem was, I was anything but cheery.

"Jack, I've been arrested and need your help," I began.  "I know this isn't your
area of expertise, but I need you to find me the best criminal lawyer you know."

"You know you can count on me, Bob, but what happened?  What are the
charges?" he followed.

When I told him, he was nearly as shocked as I had been.  After I answered a
few other questions, I nearly forgot to tell him an important bit of information,
such as where I was being held.

"I think I know just the man for you," he assured me.  "Sit tight and don't say a
word.  I'll get him there just as soon as I can."

After thanking Jack for his assistance, I hung up the phone and was led to a
holding cell, where I would wait until my lawyer showed up.  There was one other
guy in there, probably in his late twenties or early thirties, and he was sitting on
the only cot.  Since he was a fairly rough looking character, I merely walked in
and leaned against the wall, since I didn't need a physical confrontation on top of
everything else.  You see, I've learned from watching various cop shows on
television that some of these criminals can be very territorial, especially if they
were there first.

"Whatcha in here for?" he asked.

I eyed him suspiciously, as I wondered if I should even bother to respond at all.  I
finally decided I didn't need any enemies in here, so I answer him as cryptically
as possible.

"A misunderstanding," I replied, hoping that would suffice.

"Aren't we all?" he replied, releasing a little chuckle.  "I got busted for trying to
take a laptop from a store.  What did they expect, seeing it was just sitting there
unguarded behind a counter, so I picked it up and headed for the door.  Too bad
the clerk spotted me and was able to alert security, because they nabbed me just
as I was going out the damn door.  A few more seconds and I would have gotten
away with it.  I tried to explain that it was all just a misunderstanding, but the
damn rent-a-cop wouldn't listen.  So what did you do?"

I knew better than to tell him the truth, since I've heard that people charged with
sex crimes, especially against a minor, are at the bottom of the food chain here.
With that in mind, I quickly came up with another explanation.

"I supposedly didn't adhere to a restraining order," I offered.

He laughed again.

"Damn, that sucks," he shot back.

I merely nodded, knowing he'd probably turn on me if he discovered I was really
being charged with sexual abuse of an underage boy.  Instead, I kept quiet and
concentrated on my current predicament, while attempting to think of a way of
getting out of this mess.  He sat quietly for the next couple of minutes, before he
spoke again.

"It's your first time, isn't it?" he wanted to know.

"First time what?" I responded, since I'd been deep in thought and wasn't sure
what he meant.

"First time being arrested," he explained.  "I can always tell first timers.  They're
always quiet and spend most of their time trying to plan a strategy or something.
Don't worry, your lawyer will tell you what to do, and if he's worth his fee, he'll
have you out of here in no time."

I thanked him for his insights and hoped he would leave it at that, but then he
went on to give me a few more pointers, including the one I told you earlier about
the fingerprints.  After that, he went on to tell me that he'd been arrested the first
time when he was thirteen and then bragged that he had learned most of the
tricks of the trade before he'd turned fifteen.  Obviously, he hadn't learned the
right tricks or he wouldn't be in here now.  We continued to talk off and on, even
though I tried to let him know I really didn't want to continue this banter, but he
must have felt that I'd be better off distracted from my current concerns.
Mercifully, that situation was about to change, when one of the guards came in
and made an announcement.

"Cox, your lawyer is here," the guards called out.

He then unlocked the door to the holding cell and led me to a small, windowless
room.  Inside sat a man in a suit that I presumed to be my attorney.  He stood up
as I entered, extended his hand and introduced himself.

"I'm Bruno Colongeli," he announced.  "Jack Coughlin told me you could use my
assistance."

"I certainly can and thanks for taking my case," I responded.

"We haven't come to any agreement about that yet," he pointed out, "because we
need to discuss a few details first.  To begin with, I'll need a $10,000 retainer.
Will that be a problem for you?"

"No, I'll contact Jack and give him temporary power of attorney, so he'll be able
to get the money out of my account."

"Good.  Since that's settled, I've looked the paperwork over and the district
attorney has three affidavits to support the charges they've made against you.
Before we talk about those items, I need to know if you have ever been convicted
of any crime or arrested before?"

"No to both questions, so may I see those affidavits?"  I asked, wondering how
there could possibly be three of them.

Who could have possibly filled out an affidavit besides Jared?  No one else knew
about what we had done, so who could be responsible for those other two
documents?  What the hell was going on here?

"Certainly.  I have copies of each one," he responded, "but let's clear up some of
these other issues first.  To begin with, tell me every detail concerning what has
happened since the police showed up at your house."

I told him everything I could remember; from the moment the doorbell rang and
up until the time I entered this room with him.  He jotted down some notes, asked
me a few other questions and then dug out the affidavits for me to look over.
Anxiously, I glanced to see who had made these claims.

The first one was from someone I didn't even know, so I skipped over it and
looked at the next one, which was signed by Jared.  My heart sank to the pit of
my stomach and I became nauseated as I read the words on that piece of paper.

"I, Jared Carlson, spent time with Bob Cox and would do odd jobs for him,
because I wanted to earn some money so I could help my mom.  We became
really close over the following weeks and I began to ask him questions about sex
stuff, since I didn't feel comfortable asking my mom.  He would always tell me
what I needed to know, but he would never touch me or ask me to touch him,
until the end of the week I stayed at his house with him.  My mother and brother
had gone away and Bob offered to look after me while they were away, because
I didn't want to go on the trip.

"I'm really the one to blame for what happened next, because I really wanted to
learn what a blowjob was like.  Bob tried to explain it to me, but I wanted to know
what it felt like.  He wouldn't give in at first or do anything like that for me, but I
finally got him to give in the day before my mother and brother were to come
back.  As soon as he said 'yes,' I got undressed and Bob sucked on my penis
until I shot the sperms out.  That was the only time we ever did anything like
that."

I was amazed that Jared had admitted this, but at least he hadn't told them
everything.  Even though his statement had only a minor resemblance to the
truth, I knew it was his attempt to protect me.  As I thought about it though, I was
confused about why he'd even admitted to this much, but I was grateful that he
had only told them we'd done it once.

"Are you all right?" the lawyer asked me.  "You look as if you'd seen a ghost.  Is
there something wrong?"

"No, I was just caught off guard reading this," I shot back.  "I didn't think Jared
would admit to anything like this."

"Are you saying it's not true?" he pressed.

I merely looked at him, because I was unsure about how I should respond.

"Look, I know if I tell you things, then you can't tell anyone else.  Right?" I
wondered.

He eyed me now.

"Yes, I have to keep everything you tell me completely confidential, as a part of
the attorney-client privilege," he answered.  "The only exception to that rule is if
you tell me you are planning to commit a crime.  Now, I need you to tell me the
entire truth."

"Ok, I did do this with Jared, but it wasn't the only time," I admitted.  "He is correct
in saying that he was the aggressor too and I put him off for as long as I could,
but he wore me down and I finally weakened and gave in.  He's a great kid and I
can't believe he willingly told anyone about this, but I didn't force or threaten him
to do anything."

"Well, it's an official police statement, so he must be the one who gave them this
information," my lawyer confirmed.  "How about the other two statements?  Do
those seem accurate to you?"

"I haven't read those yet," I admitted, "but I'll do that now."

Actually, I had temporarily forgotten about those other two statements, so now I
grabbed the only one I hadn't looked at previously.  I was surprised to see that
Josh had made this statement, but I couldn't imagine what he might have to say
about any of this.  Was it possible that he saw something on one of the nights he
had slept over?  I wasn't sure, so I began to read his affidavit to find out what he
had to say.

"I, Josh Carlson, went down to Bob Cox's house to get my brother, Jared,
because he had stayed with Bob when my mom and me went to see my
grandparents.  We came back early, because I got into a fight with my
grandparents, so I went down to Bob's house to let them know we were back.
When I went inside, I didn't see anyone around, so I went looking for my brother.
I finally found him in Bob's bedroom and my brother was lying naked on Bob's
bed and Bob was sucking on my brother's wiener (penis).

"Neither of them knew I saw them, because the door to the bedroom was open
when I got there and I left without them knowing I had dropped by.  I never told
them what I saw either."

Well, I guess that explains some things, especially about why Jared had admitted
to me giving him oral sex.  The only question it leaves is how Josh saw this and
why he told anyone about it.  I mean, when he came down after their trip, it was
later and Jared and I were in the living room at the time.  Had he come down
earlier and we didn't know it?  Needing an answer, I searched my mind, to see if I
could decide if this was possible.  Carefully, I thought back to the day in question.

We hadn't expected Josh and his mother home until the next day, but they
surprised us and came back early.  Sometime after Jared and I had come
downstairs, Josh rang the doorbell, and when I went to answer it, I was surprised
to discover the front door was unlocked.  I guess he could have come down
earlier and seen what we were doing in my bedroom.  That's because we had
been even more careless and left the bedroom door open as well, so I imagine it
was possible that he saw us.  Did he go back home after that and then come
down again later, but this time rang the doorbell to let us know he was there?

"What about that one?" my attorney asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.  "Is it
accurate?"

"I don't know," I told him honestly.  "It might be true, but I have no way of
knowing.  If he witnessed anything, I certainly didn't know about it at the time."

"How about the last one then?  Look that over and let me know what you think
about it," he urged.

I nodded and grabbed the first affidavit again – the one I had set aside.  I still
didn't recognize the name attached to it, but this time I read the contents, not just
the name.

"I, Susan Kazinski, work as an aide at the school attended by Josh Carlson, and
one day I overheard Josh talking to one of his friends.  He was telling the other
boy that he had seen his brother getting oral sex from a guy named Bob and I
later figured out Bob was an adult.  Seeing I knew Josh's brother to be under the
legal age of consent, I reported what I'd heard to Children's Services and they
sent me here, to the police station, to fill out this report."

"What do you think of that one?" the lawyer asked, as I set the paper down.

"I can't comment on this one either, since I don't know the person and what she
claims seems to be hearsay," I replied.

The lawyer nodded and then collected each of the statements from me.  Then,
he put them back into the manila folder he'd taken them out of and slipped
everything back into his briefcase.

"The arraignment is supposed to be in a half-hour," he explained.  "The officers
will escort you up to the courtroom and I'll meet you there.  While we're in court,
just keep quiet and let me do all of the talking.  We should be able to get you
released on your own recognizance, or at least make it so you can post bail."

I acknowledged what he told me, before I was taken back to the holding cell.
When I got there, the other guy was gone, so I concluded he must have been
taken for his arraignment, maybe released on bail or possibly moved to a regular
cell.  Somewhat relieved, I sat on the cot and waited to be escorted to court.  It
wasn't long before a guard returned, placed me in handcuffs and advised me that
he was taking me to be arraigned.  He then led me to an elevator, which took us
to the second floor, but when it stopped, he seemed to hang back and let me
walk ahead of him.

Wasn't he afraid that I might take off or something?  However, that's when I
discovered the reason he had lagged behind me.  Suddenly, there was a series
of flashes, as a photographer began snapping several pictures, nearly as soon
as the doors of the elevator parted.  I quickly threw up my hands and turned my
head, but it was too late.  By this time, the guy with the camera had already taken
at least two or three decent shots and there was nothing I could do to get them
back.

Once the guy finished snapping his shutter, the guard grabbed a hold of my
elbow and whisked me into the courtroom.  As we passed through the doorway, I
saw my attorney standing off to one side and he approached me as I entered.
He quickly explained what would happen when my case was called and we
waited patiently for that to happen.  When our docket number was announced,
we stepped forward and took our places behind the table my attorney had
pointed out to me earlier.

"Bruno Colongeli for the defendant, your honor.  We waive reading of the
charges and my client enters a plea of not guilty.  I also ask that my client be
released on his own recognizance."

The judge looked over at the Assistant District Attorney, who was standing
behind the other table.

"Prosecutions thoughts on this matter?" the judge followed.

"Your honor, these are fairly serious charges, and we ask for remand," the
Assistant District Attorney requested.

"Why don't we compromise," the judge suggested, as if had anticipated what
both lawyers had planned to say.  "Bail is set at $10,000, cash or bond."

We left the table and my lawyer spoke to me again, once we got to the back of
the courtroom.

"I talked to Jack earlier and he said he'd cover your bills until he could get here to
have you sign the power of attorney," Bruno explained.  "I don't think he'll need to
do that now, so I'll go post your bond and then I'll drive you home.  When we get
there, you can write me one check to cover both the retainer and the bond
money.  Is that alright with you?"

I quickly agreed and was then led back to the holding cell, where I would wait
until my bond was posted.  The holding cell was still empty when I got there, so
the other guy had definitely been released or was now in a jail cell.  I sat there for
about twenty minutes before my lawyer showed up again and then I was
released into his custody.  He led me down to where his car was parked and we
hopped inside, and then I gave him directions to my house, because he had no
idea where I lived.  We talked some more along the way and Bruno shared some
additional information with me.

"I haven't spoken with the District Attorney's office yet, but it's possible that we
might be able to resolve this without a trial," he announced.  "Due to the limited
amount of evidence and the claim that this only happened once, plus the fact that
you have no previous criminal history, I may be able to get him to offer you a plea
agreement."

"I know what a plea agreement is, but what exactly would it mean for me?" I
wondered.

"It would mean that you won't have to take your chances with a jury, the charges
will be reduced and the punishment would be less severe," he explained.  "I'm
not saying that it won't still have an impact on the rest of your life, but we'll try to
get it knocked down as much as possible."

"I appreciate that, but you'll talk everything over with me first, before you accept
any offer.  Right?" I pressed, since I was worried about what this might entail.

"Absolutely!" he assured me.  "Everything will need your approval first, before I
will be able to do anything."

That made me feel a little better, although I was still concerned about how this
was all going to play out.

When we reached my house, I took him inside and wrote the check to cover both
the retainer and the ten-percent he had put down to secure my bail bond.  Once
he had pocketed my check, he took down my phone numbers and told me he'd
be in touch.  I walked him back out to his car and thanked him for taking my
case, and as I watched him back out of my driveway, I began to wonder how this
whole mess was going to turn out.  I made sure that I didn't look up the road
toward Jared's house, because I wasn't ready to see him and didn't know how I'd
react if I did.

Once I was back in the house, I quickly locked all of my doors, since I didn't want
any uninvited company at this point, but then again I didn't envision that
happening.  As I sat down on my sofa, I began to wonder why Josh and Jared
had given those statements.  Did Josh really see us on that one occasion and
why was he telling someone else about it, especially at school, where he could
be overheard?  It was hard for me to blame him though, because I was the one
who had been so stupid and careless as to leave the door unlocked and let it
happen in the first place?  And Jared.  Why would he admit to this?  Was he
forced or threatened to make this charge?  Why else would he say I'd had oral
sex with him?

In hindsight, I should have known better and never given in to him.  I should have
stuck to my guns and refused his constant advances.  Even though my brain had
constantly told me to keep emotionally detached, my heart quickly fell in love with
the cute imp.  Once that happened, it made it impossible for me to deal with his
exhibitionism and put off his requests forever.  In the long run, I guess the little
head made the decisions that the big head should have made, so now I was
going to pay for listening to the head without the brain.  Belatedly realizing this, I
began to analyze how it had played out.

I had heard how some predators groom their victims, by making seemingly
innocuous initial requests and then getting their mark to increase what they're
willing to do, a little at a time.  These predators may start off just having the kid
get down to his underwear for some innocent reason and then next merely ask
the kid to get naked for a bath or shower, without the threat of any sexual
contact.  Sometimes they might even use drugs or alcohol to get the kid to lower
his defenses, and then over time, the adult would continue increasing his
requests by small increments, until the child was ready for sexual contact.  As I
look back upon my situation now, I believe that to some extent Jared had been
grooming me in much the same way.

In the beginning, it was with him wearing very tight articles of clothing when we
were together and then he took it a step further, when he began rubbing up
against me, such as when I was teaching him how to use the lawn tractor.  After
that, he constantly began to find ways to end up being naked in front of me,
beginning with the first time I allowed him to take a shower at my place and when
he came downstairs naked afterward.  Once I'd convinced him that I wasn't going
to permit him to do this, he started wrapping a towel around his waist, but
somehow it conveniently seemed to keep falling off.

When I finally convinced him that I wasn't going to allow things like this to keep
happening, he found other ways to get what he wanted.  This started with him
convincing me to let him stay in my room when I changed into my swimsuit, so
he got to see me naked too – since that didn't break our agreement about him
being naked in front of me.  This evolved into us changing in the room together,
but then he also talked me into watching him masturbate, since he couldn't show
his mom and was afraid about how one of his classmates might react if he were
to show one of them.  Since he seemed desperate to be able to show someone
that he could now produce semen, I finally relented, after I'd concluded this was
the lesser of possible evils.

>From there, he continued to escalate the process, when he stayed with me while
his mother and brother went away.  First, he convinced me to let him sleep with
me and then he wanted me to give him a bath.  Although at first I didn't want to
wash his private areas, he conned me into doing this too, and then when he
popped a boner, he convinced me to jack him off.   He followed that by
masturbating me the following morning, while I was still asleep, and then he
finally talked me into showing him what oral sex felt like.

Why was I so stupid and how was it that I didn't I see what was going on?  It's
probably because these were all things I was hoping to do with him as well, even
though I was too afraid to be the aggressor.  Now, I see I had a very good reason
to be fearful about doing these things and even though I know that I shouldn't
have given in, it was way too late to be making this revelation.  It was now merely
a moot debate about what should have been, but the big questions that still
remained was how is this about to change my life and where do I go from here?

Since I didn't know what to do, I merely began to wander around the house, as if
I were in a dissociative stupor.  The phone rang a couple of times, but I didn't
want to speak to anyone, so I chose to let it ring and allowed my voice mail to
record any messages.  I continued to meander from room to room, totally lost
and completely baffled about what I should be doing, but everywhere I went only
served to remind me of times I had spent with the boys or the things I had done
with Jared.  I was going through an emotional tug of war, since I wanted to
remember those wonderful moments, while at the same time grappling with the
pain of knowing that those same types of situations would never happen again.  I
didn't know what to do to ease the pain, but then I discovered a modicum of
solace in an old standby.

In my many trips around the house, I discovered an unopened bottle of wine, so I
popped the cork and slowly tried to drown my sorrows and unhappiness in an
alcoholic stupor.  I not only downed that bottle of wine, but I found another and
opened that one as well, and before long I discovered that I had polished off both
bottles.  By this time I was feeling no pain, but I also wasn't thinking very clearly.
After a while, I began to convince myself that this nightmare was going to end
and that things would work out in my favor, like some wonderful fairy tale ending.
I pictured me spending time with Jared and Josh again and envisioned my life
going back to the way it was before any of this happened.  I eventually went to
my room to lie down on my bed, since my head was spinning, and mercifully I
passed out.

I don't remember much beyond that point, at least not until I came to the next
morning.  I was a little hung over, with that telltale taste in my mouth, which
helped me to remember exactly what I had done the night before and why I don't
generally drink to excess.  After cleaning up, brushing my teeth and changing my
clothes, I went downstairs and grabbed a bite to eat and then I checked my voice
mail.  The first message was from the local newspaper reporter who was trying to
get me to give him 'my take' on the charges.  The next call was from Jack
Coughlin, who asked me to contact him today, so we could take care of some
'loose ends.'  There was also a third call, but that person left no message, so I
figured it might have been one of the first two callers trying to reach me again.  I
suspected it was most likely the reporter calling back, in an attempt to get an
exclusive interview or as a way of sprucing up his current story.

I picked up the phone and called Jack back.

"Good morning, Coughlin, Gerhart, Hinman and Kattell," the receptionist
answered.

"Hello, may I speak with Jack Coughlin, please?" I asked.

"May I ask who is calling, please?" she followed.

"Yes.  It's Bob Cox," I replied.

"Certainly, Mr. Cox.  Just one second and I'll see if Mr. Coughlin is available," she
stated.

I was then placed on hold, while she attempted to discover if Jack could take the
call.  Before long, I heard his familiar voice on the line.

"Bob, how are you doing?" he asked, sounding very concerned.

"I've been better, Jack," I replied.  I was trying to sound chipper, but I knew it
didn't come out that way.  "My entire life seems to be in a shambles and it
doesn't look as if there is much I can do about it."

"I understand how you must feel, but Bruno and I will do our best to try to help
you through this, so you can begin putting everything back in order," he offered.
"That's why I called last night.  Bruno mentioned that you wanted to give me
power of attorney, just in case you weren't able to handle your own affairs.  I
know you're at home right now, so do you still want to do this?"

"Yes, Jack.  Just as a safety precaution," I confirmed.  "I'm not sure how this is
going to play out, and to tell you the truth, I'm not sure if I want to deal with
certain matters right away, so I'll let you handle those issues for me, if you don't
mind?"

"No, that's fine and I understand," he commiserated.  "Do you want to come
down today and sign the papers?  I can have them drawn up in no time."

"I'd prefer not to have to show my face in town for a while," I replied.  "The
newspaper seems anxious to get my picture, so they can plaster it across the
community page, but they're also calling and trying to finagle some comments
out of me about this.  Would it be possible for you to come here instead, so we
can take care of this?"

"Those vultures have been circling already, have they?" he retorted.

"Yes, they had a photographer at the courthouse when I was arraigned and he
snapped several pictures as I got off the elevator," I explained.  "Then, someone
from the newspaper left a message for me last night, wanting me to call them
back so they could get my side of the story."

"They do seem to thrive on other people's misery, don't they?" he stated, but I
knew this question was rhetorical and he didn't wait for me to respond.

"Ok, you stay home then and I'll drop by after work," he agreed.  "I'll have the
paperwork with me and you can just sign the forms then.  Bob, can I bring you
anything else when I come?"

I took a minute to think about this, as I searched my mind to figure out what I had
in the house and if I had any severe shortages.

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind, would you please pick up a copy of the local
newspaper for me," I asked.  "I want to see what they're saying about all of this."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" he challenged, and I could tell that he
sounded very concerned.

"Yes, I think it would be best if I knew what the locals are hearing about this
case," I answered.  "I want to see if people will be picketing out in front of my
place or driving by and gawking.  Hell, some of them might even drive by and
start shooting."

"I hope nothing like that happens, but I understand why you might want to stay on
top of this," he agreed.  "Ok, I'll pick up a copy of the paper on my way there.  In
fact, I'll drop a copy off each evening, for as long as you want?"

"Thanks and that would be great, at least for a few days," I agreed.  "That way I
can see what I'll be facing outside of the courtroom, as well as within."

"Ok, Bob.  I'll see you later then," Jack added, before hanging up.

I spent the rest of the afternoon holed up inside my house.  I did open a few
windows to let in some fresh air, but I made sure the windows I opened had the
blinds adjusted so that they were only open enough to let the fresh air pass
through.  I also made sure all the doors were locked, since I didn't want anyone
infringing on my privacy.  I tried to do some writing, but that proved to be a
useless venture, so I sat down to flick through the channels on my TV.  At least
that would give me a slight diversion, without having to concentrate fully on the
program I was viewing.  I ended up watching reruns of some older shows on A &
E, FX, TNT, USA and SyFy, but I was only doing this to get my mind off my legal
woes.

Mercifully, Jack showed up a few hours later and dragged me away from these
brain-numbing episodes.  We discussed my current situation and then I told him
where I kept certain items, such as my bank accounts, financial records, my
monthly bills and a rundown of where I kept all of my important documents.  I
also gave him a list of all of the various people and companies I used to do
various jobs around the house, because I wanted him to know all of this, in case I
was sent to prison for any length of time.

With him having these details, he'd be able to look after things while I was away
or even prepare the house for sale, if it appeared that I wouldn't be back any time
soon.  Once I had given him all of this information, I signed the paperwork to give
him power of attorney on my behalf, which would allow him to do any of the
things I was unable to do for myself.

As difficult as it was to face this possibility, I had to admit that I could end up
being incarcerated for these charges, and if that happened, I'd need someone to
take care of these things for me.  Once I had signed the power of attorney, Jack
wished me well, assured me that he'd take care of whatever I needed and told
me he'd keep in touch.  I thanked him for all of his help and assured him that I
valued him as a friend, not merely as a terrific lawyer.

Before he left, I asked him if my publisher had become aware of this situation or
if he thought it might affect any future dealings with them, and he said he
doubted both.  He explained that the publishing company was a very large
organization, which was located in a major city, so he doubted if this small town
gossip would have gained their attention.  Besides, he pointed out that I used a
penname, which would obscure my legal woes from my readers, as well as for
anyone but those at the very top of the organization.  After hearing his reasoning,
I thanked him for his observations and assistance, before he got into his car and
drove off.

Over the course of the next few days, I checked out the local newspaper and
watched the local television news broadcasts, just to see how I was being
portrayed.  At first, my arrest had been given some minor notoriety, such as a
brief story on the lower half of the front page of the community section, along with
a small picture, but it also received a brief mention on the local channel's nightly
news segment.  However, after those initial reports had come out, the attention
on my situation appeared to dwindle, possibly due to the fact that I was only
accused of having limited contact with a single victim.  On the other hand, I
assume this attention will pick up again, once the case moved to trial.

My criminal lawyer, Bruno, and I had already been discussing strategy, which
included some issues that I dreaded being a part of.  The first of these was when
we discussed if I'd be willing to testify and face a very intense cross-examination.
We then weighed the value my testimony might have in bolstering my defense,
when compared to the risks of having the prosecution paint me as a predator, as
he attempted to rip me apart on the witness stand.

After discussing this, Bruno mentioned that he expected both Jared and Josh
would be called to testify against me, so he wanted to have as much information
about them, including any types of contact I'd had with them, so he could use
those details during his cross-examination.  That's when I encountered my first
doubts about going through this process.  Even if Bruno was questioning their
veracity to protect and possibly keep me from going to prison, I didn't want him
attacking these boys and raking them over the coals.  Since my life already
seemed to be ruined, I didn't want to end up destroying Josh and Jared's lives as
well, by putting them through such a potentially destructive process and exposing
intimate details about their lives to their peers.

After listening to my concerns, Bruno tried to assure me that although doing
something like this might be necessary, he would try to be as gentle with the
boys as he could, while at the same time attempting to discredit their testimony.
No matter how many assurances he gave me, or how gentle he said he would
be, I was still worried about hurting either boy by putting them through such a
potentially uncomfortable situation.  Bruno then explained that I didn't really have
much choice in the matter, if I wanted to beat this rap.  Reluctantly, I allowed him
to proceed, but I continued to brainstorm for another way we could accomplish
the same thing, without putting these boys through such scrutiny or revealing
intimate details of their lives.

Over the next couple of weeks, there were several court dates we were required
to attend, since I had charges pending against me in family court, as well as in
criminal court.  Every time we went to one of these proceedings, intending to
handle various motions or procedural issues, it seemed as if the case was
always rescheduled for a later date, for one reason or another.  This seemed
very odd, especially when I considered how many times we went to court before
a trial date was finally set, but I guess this only proves that the wheels of justice
do grind exceedingly slow.  However, I wondered if this conflicted with the right of
the accused to a speedy trial.  Whatever the reason, this case seemed to drag
on.

During this entire period, I remained a recluse – locked up in a jail cell that I once
called my home.  I didn't even go out to pick up groceries, since I wasn't sure
what might happen if someone recognized me and decided to mete out his own
form of justice.  Fortunately, I found a company called 'Shop 4-U' that would let
me call in my grocery order, do the shopping for me and deliver it to my home,
for a fee.  This meant I would only have to come into contact with one individual,
yet it would provide me with the items I would need to survive.  After talking to
the company representative on the telephone, we were able to work out an
arrangement as to how often I would need their services and which option I
would use to place my order, be it phone, fax or online, so that was another issue
I had resolved for now.

During this same period, there were some other occurrences that weren't as
positive, beginning with the harassing phone calls I started to receive.  Seeing I
wasn't answering my phone, unless I recognized the phone number on my caller
ID, some of those calling were kind enough to leave messages, so I'd know what
they wanted.  They then proceeded to call me disgusting names, while making
certain I understood that people like me weren't appreciated and should burn in
hell.  Others even went as far as to describe things they would do to me, or my
home, if I didn't end up in prison and decided to stay in the area.

Of course, I realized that most of the people who called and left these messages
were most likely cowards who were hiding behind the anonymity of a telephone.
Others were probably just blowing off steam and would never have the guts to do
whatever they claimed.  However, seeing there was a chance there might be one
in this group that would actually try to carry out his threats, I called Bruno to see
what he thought I should do.  He directed me to notify the State Police and report
these incidents, so they'd have a chance to run interference for me.

Within a few hours after I'd placed that call, an officer stopped by to take my
report and listen to the messages I hadn't already deleted.  After doing this, he
explained that someone from his office would most likely contact the telephone
company to see if they could help trace where these calls came from and then
possibly identify who the callers were.  Although this sounded promising, and
even helpful, he didn't act as if he was actually interested in my problem or that
he wanted to spend much time investigating my claims.  In fact, he appeared to
be disinterested and I quickly got the impression that he thought I was getting
exactly what I deserved.  He was willing to file the report, since that was his job,
but I didn't feel as if he was sympathetic to my plight or eager to discover who
was harassing me.  After he left, I concluded that I wouldn't report any further
incidents; since I wasn't convinced it was going to do any good.

This wasn't the only thing that happened either.  A couple of times when I was
outside, either retrieving my mail or going to or from my car after meeting with my
lawyer, the drivers or passengers in cars going by would shout out obscenities at
me or make other derogatory comments as they went by.  One guy even threw
an empty beer bottle in my direction, which missed hitting me in the head by less
than a yard.  Although it landed harmlessly on the lawn and didn't even break, I
knew the guy would've loved to see it crash into my skull.

I thought about reporting this incident as well, but after the reaction I got
concerning the harassing phone calls, I decided against it.  Why set myself up for
another disappointment and more grief?  Instead, I grabbed a plastic bag out of
the house and placed the bottle in it, without touching it myself.  I then gave it to
Bruno, so he'd have it as evidence and possibly be able to retrieve fingerprints
from it, especially if another similar incident were to happen later.

During this time, I also spent a great many hours wondering what had prompted
Jared to give his statement in the first place.  Of course, I could tell that he was
still attempting to protect me, by not disclosing everything we'd done together
and insisting that he had instigated the contact, but yet he had still admitted that
we'd had sexual contact.  I was still convinced that he wouldn't have intentionally
done anything to harm me, unless he felt he had no other choice, so this made
me wonder what it was that had prompted him to admit that I'd performed oral
sex on him.

It also made me wonder if Sherry had something to do with his decision.  Had
she somehow found out about what her son and I had been doing and then
made him file the report?  The problem with this theory was that I couldn't see
Sherry doing that either.  If she'd found out about what we'd been up to, I'm sure
she'd have confronted me herself, rather than forcing her son to hurt someone
she knew he cared a great deal about.  Even if she didn't approve of our actions,
she also realized more than anyone else that Jared had been hurt far too much
already and didn't need to lose someone else in his life.  That's why I don't think
she'd hurt him more by making him file charges against me.  No, I just couldn't
see it happening that way.

Over the next several weeks, I spent countless hours pondering this question, as
I prepared myself to go to trial.  During this time, I had many more meetings with
my lawyer and he spent a great deal of time preparing me for what was to come.
We also spent time refining our legal strategy, going over what types of things
might be said and what other accusations might be made, but we also took time
to fine-tune my possible testimony, if it were to come to that.

I certainly wasn't looking forward to testifying and hoped I wouldn't be asked to.  I
also couldn't imagine what Jared and Josh must be going through, knowing they
would have to get up on the witness stand and testify to the things they had said
in their statements.  I wasn't sure how this was going to play out or what the
future would hold for any of us, but I knew things would never return to what we
once had enjoyed and that thought saddened me greatly.  Before any of this had
come to light, I'd begun to believe that for once in my life things seemed perfect,
but now it was just another shattered dream.



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