(Anton and Daniel 18)

Between Truth and Lie

FBI Field Offices

Phoenix AZ

August 8, 2018

It is but one day before the anniversary of a young man's disappearance from the streets— well, actually from a street, that is, Mill Street — in Chillicothe, Ohio.

Special Agent Dennis Ratford in Phoenix makes a call to the family of one Jeremy Gattes in Chillicothe, a phone call made in error. Agent Ratford's computer notes suggest that FAULKNER, Cordell a recently identified victim of murder in East St. Louis, Illinois, was believed to be in the company of GATTES, Jeremy, and he has wanted to interview Gattes regarding his knowledge of the Faulkner boy's whereabouts. But there is no longer a reason to do so unless of course East St. Louis has questions and – they hardly will bother.

Now had the computer tagged “GATES, Jeremy” he would have known to coordinate his actions with the Cincinnati Office as it has an open file under that name. But there is no file on Jeremy Gattes of Chillicothe, Ohio. And thus Agent Ratford calls the Gatteses and advises them of the untimely (or very timely) death of Cordell Faulkner and lets them know the computer alert for their son will be cancelled and he hopes that they have or soon will find their errant child.

The parents of GATES, Jeremy reach the conclusion that there is no longer any witness nor anything at all to tie their son to a certain body in San Diego. And with the deaths of John Cannon, Patrick Hunter, and Levi Fisher they rightly think their son is of no further legitimate interest to the FBI.

But the FBI is not so easily shaken.

Office of the Special Agent in Charge

FBI Field Office

Cincinnati OH

August 15, 2018

“Don I needed to update you on Jeremy Gates,” says Special Agent Wilson Jameson.

“Sit down take a load off your feet and tell me what's up, Wilson,” says SAIC Don Wickenheiser.

“Well we got a tip not too long ago that Wade Garner, that friend of his, was saying he had talked to him on the phone. We interviewed the Garner boy at the time of the abduction so I decided to do it again, and he let me see his phone. I found a San Diego unknown number.  Turns out to be a prepaid. That turned out to be a dead end. But the call was from Mexico.” He looks at his notes, “Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. But no other calls from the number as far as we could see, and no more calls from elsewhere either.”

“No further use?”

“No,” he shakes his head ruefully, “Judge Richardson denied us a warrant.”

“What the hell? Why?”

“I wrote it up as needed to solve the kidnapping. The judge takes note that those who kidnapped the boy are dead so there is no prosecution of anyone pending for kidnapping and no other suspects. He noted that the boy's parents say he is not missing and thus he is not any longer kidnapped. He says there doesn't appear to be a crime, and without a crime he cannot find probable cause of a crime and he cannot issue a warrant without probable cause.”

Wickenheiser shakes his head, “Jesus, judges. The guy has a screw loose.”

“I mean I told him the kid is in danger, he asks me 'Do you have any evidence of that Agent Jameson?' and I'm all “The kid escaped from serial killers” and Richardson says 'Escaped is in the past tense, correct?' Well obviously that was going nowhere. But I did think of a new angle and wanted to run it by you before I go back and try again.”

“Tell me what you've got.”

“Well I was thinking that the boy was last seen with this Cordell Faulkner from that compound in Arizona. And Phoenix Field Office told us the locals have that kid's body in a drug ripoff in East St. Louis. And East St. Louis have a CI who says that the kid had bricks of cocaine with him. So I am thinking Jeremy Gates is a material witness – or if we prefer he can be a co-conspirator— to a drug transshipment. That's a crime and so is the murder of the driver of the shipment. The judge should be happy, and can't turn us down.”

“Great thinking Wilson. Let's go for witness, the parents and the kid both have had a hard enough time.”

“Well that does get us a warrant but I'd rather go with the co-conspirator because then we can probably get a warrant for the parents' bank accounts and that may tell us a lot more about where the boy is.”

“You know this judge is paying attention; don't press your luck, let's stick with witness for now; plus, I don't want them to clam up and take the Fifth. We can up the ante if we have to later.”

“Thy will be done, boss. Let me see if it will fly past the judge and we'll see if we can track this cell phone and Jeremy Gates to ground. At last.”

FBI Field office

Cincinnati OH

\August 17, 2018

“Well we have found Jeremy Gates, or at least his cell phone. Which is located in Barbados.”

“Barbados!”

“Yes sir I'd say he's traveling by slow boat; we tracked that phone and then another by cell tower records from Mexico south to the Panama Canal then to the Caribbean, presumably each port call he made; and it's in Barbados, but it's off the air now and I don't think the government there will bring him in without an arrest warrant through Interpol. In which case we need to get the US Attorney to authorize a warrant. And given the prominence of the story I don't think he's going to give us one based on what we have. Hell even I don't believe he's involved in the drugs this Faulkner kid was carrying. We might get a material witness warrant but with no drugs to be had and no one we can indict what are the odds the US Attorney will give us one?”

“Hold on a second, do we really need a warrant to find the cell phone? Can't we use a tracker team?”

“We don't have a team in Barbados. I think we could get one there in 72 hours but we would need the Barbados government to approve their operation and we need the AG and State to agree anyway.”

“I think we have a better chance with a handshake from the Resident Agent at the Embassy there to some local authorities, see if they will help us find a runaway teenager. I don't think this is big enough for NSA to get involved, they'd balk. Otherwise we have to see if DEA or CBP will task one of the monitor boats in the Caribbean to dig up the phone. And that won't be precise unless we're lucky. And we are fortunate the FBI Resident Office for the whole East Caribbean happens to be at the Barbados Embassy.”

“All right, I'll call the Resident Agent and see what he can do.”

US Embassy, Consular Section

Barbados

August 23, 2018

The connection is not crystal clear. The speaker phone crackles a lot.

“Agent Bristol, this is SAIC Wickenheiser in Cincinnati with SA Jameson. I understand you have reached out to your contacts in Barbados to see if they can run this cell phone to earth.”

“Agent Wickenheiser, I have an informal report from the Barbados Post Office that the cell has not reactivated since last Saturday.  I have a tag on the number, they will let me know if and when it does activate. However, the bad news is since nearly every island has its own satellite uplinks and many have undersea cables, we would have to tag it on every island to be sure we get it and that involves at least four different governments. I can't get a hand job from all of them. In fact I think unless he is still on Barbados and uses the phone here I've done all I can do for you.”

RA Jim Bristol says “hand job” because he thinks of it that way, his contacts in the Barbados Post Office are seeking some future favors for giving him this hand job... he doesn't want to waste his favor-capital on this non-case for a runaway kid.

Gates Residence

Chillicothe OH

August 24, 2018 – 11:10 am

“Mr. Gates, we don't wish to be difficult but we are going to find Jeremy, we have tracked him to Barbados as recently as four days ago and we will find him with or without your help. It would be so much better for everyone if you would help us talk to him on a voluntary basis. We can get this all cleared up in a matter of a day or two.

“I promise we have no reason to think Jeremy is in any criminal trouble. But we need to find out what he knows about the disappearance of this Cordell Faulkner and we need to talk to him about what happened with Cannon and Hunter and of course Levi Fisher. I don't want to hold him on a grand jury subpoena.”

This phone call was crystal clear.

“Please, Don, Cordell Faulkner is dead as I'm sure you know. Every person you named is dead. You can't serve a witness subpoena outside the United States. You can't extradite for testimony, you'd need cooperation from the government wherever he is in any event. And he will not talk without immunity if you try.”

Silence.

“How do you know Faulkner is dead?”

“The FBI informed us weeks ago. You folks really need to keep in touch with each other.”

“Be that as it may the murder of that boy is still an open case and Jeremy may have vital information about it. Plus Jeremy needs to give more information about his abduction to be sure we can close the case. Eventually we'll get his testimony.”

“No he doesn't need to do that. And if you ask him those kinds of questions he will take the Fifth. I promise. On every question if necessary.”  If I sound too eager, they might not agree to this....  

“But I believe it's possible Jeremy will agree to an interview. At least I think I can persuade him to; understand, it is ultimately up to him. He's not in Barbados, I don't know where that comes from but it's possible he would do this. But I have conditions to an interview. I want it understood, he's been under extreme stress for over a year, through this whole ordeal and I am not going to take any chances with his well-being. However I will meet with you in Cincinnati to discuss it. With our attorney.”

Castries, St. Lucia

August 24, 2018 – 12:33 pm

The two-story neoclassical building housing the public library meets Daniel’s approval when they find it. Another Carnegie Public Library among the many scattered around the world. The red and white stucco on the exterior is a graceful reminder of colonialism. The interior seems to say, fuck that! and adapted a happy caribbean palette of bright orange, green and yellow. Both Daniel and Fourteen came for the internet and a chance to browse for books they could add to their devices. It is comfortable sitting in the air conditioned reading room and the Wi-Fi is blitzing fast. However, it highlights how far countries like St. Lucia have to go as far as Jeremy Gates’ library expectations are concerned. The collection is disappointing.

“Got your text Dad.” Jeremy begins, settling back on the grey folding chair.

“Son, I've been telling you the FBI has been pestering us to tell them where you are and allow them to interview you. I just got off the phone with them.”

“No, Dad, I don't want to do that, I told you. I'm scared of them.” A pair of girls his age in canary T-shirts and indigo skirts glance his way.

“Well; look, Jeremy, they are going to catch up with you sooner or later. And in fact they told me today that you are in Barbados. Is that so?”

“Well...not exactly no but I was recently, how could they know that?” He is shaken. The burner phone seemed so clever.

“I don't know. But the thing is they have a lead on you somehow and it won't be long before they find you, this is the FBI, they haven't been on the ball here, but they will eventually find you.”

“What can we do, Dad?” Jeremy is panicked.

“First of all, relax, son; I don't think there is very much to worry about. They can't make you talk at all if you refuse.  I was worried before; but I talked to the attorney, and things have changed in the past month or so. Those two that abducted you are gone, now this Cordell kid, we think we have the upper hand here. While there's a small risk in talking to the FBI, we need to get them to close things off and this is a way to do it. You will have to be careful what you say, and I won't have you do it alone. I'll be there.”  

“Oh, Dad, I, I dunno. I guess if you think it's the right thing. I want to see you, but do I have to come back to Ohio?”

“No in fact it's much better for us that you are out of the country. We have much more leverage with them. But it has to happen soon. As they don't have you, I can get them to agree to my terms for the interview.”

“Okay if you're sure just, well, I have to make sure it doesn't make trouble for my traveling …companions.” Jeremy glances at Daniel Ayers, still stubbornly checking the fiction shelves.

“Whoever is driving that boat you're on you mean? I cannot guarantee. But if we do it right then the interference in our lives ends. The risk that you could be prosecuted would go away. And we could possibly do this within a week if you can be available on some larger island down there.”

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

A long pause. “Nothing. I'll talk to you about it here. Is Mom coming?”

“Your mom went back to work earlier this month, she can't take time off; she is set to work the holiday weekend at the hospice. Tell me where you are, and how long you'll be there or your travel plans for the next, oh let's say the next ten days. I'll arrange for the lawyer to come down with me and we'll meet you and prepare you for the interview. As long as they don't know where you are, we definitely have the upper hand. And just in case they are tracking this phone can you borrow or buy another one? For a week or so?”

“Yeah I guess...yeah sure, I can do that.” Fourteen has to talk with Anton Schroeder. The St. Lucia pearl is strung beside Martinique. Antigua waits at the end of the necklace. Martinique? Fourteen asks himself.

“Do that now and call me back as soon as you can; take the battery out of yours for the moment.”

Fort-de-France Airport, Martinique

Saturday September 1, 2018

Jeremy is waiting in the reception hall at the small airport for his father to exit customs. Just when he thinks he cannot wait a moment longer, his father suddenly appears at the double doors.  Boy and man –or is it two men? —rush to each other.

“Jeremy! Oh god,” Greyson Gates is squeezing his son as tightly as he can, “oh my god!”

“Dad...” Jeremy stops himself from crying. I'm no kid!

“It has been so long, over a year. Oh god for so long we thought you were dead, Jeremy. Oh my god you're so tall, you've grown so!” He backs away for a second to assess his son, then hugs him again. They stand for a few minutes speechlessly clinging before they again pull apart.

“Let's get to the hotel; we can talk. Do you mind sharing a room? I booked two suites but the lawyer, Bill Price, arrives early tomorrow and one of them is for him; mine will have a turn down couch and a bed. We will have a run through tomorrow to get you ready. And—“ he ruffles the suddenly tall young man's sun-bleached hair affectionately, “I'd just as soon be as close to you, as much as I can.”

Jeremy suggests taking an Uber to the Botanical Gardens before they go to the hotel. He wants to show the gardens to his dad, and has planned a discussion that he hopes will go better in their tranquility. His father's luggage is sent ahead with the hotel shuttle. He has only a small backpack for himself.

Half an hour later they wander along a nearly empty pathway through the vivid green foliage accented by bright orchids; birdsong and a fragrance of jasmine brush the air. Jeremy stops, perches on a small bench recessed into a grove. The sounds and colors of life envelop this peaceful, yet energizing refuge.

“Let's sit here for a minute, Dad.”

“Sure son.” Despite the long separation and his son's transformations, Greyson knows his son well enough to know that something is up. Just being with him is so powerful he has all the patience in the world right now.

A pensive silence falls between them as Jeremy screws up his courage. He doesn't feel bad or guilty; he's worked this through. Jeremy Gates is ready to man up.

“Dad, I sort of had an idea even earlier, but I was pretty sure about this by the time I was twelve.

“I don't think I ever felt bad about it really, but I guess every kid who has to do this, well, every kid has to worry about how it will affect people; about how to do it; about how it'll be received, at least a little. It's my time.

“Dad, I'm gay.”

Greyson reaches out, put his hand lightly on his son's shoulder. He gives it ten, then twenty, seconds. It is not an uncomfortable silence.

“It must have taken some courage, Jeremy, to tell me that.”

Silence is returned in good measure. A warm ocean breeze flows through the shade-dappled grove; in a long moment the youth responds.

”I've been thinking a lot. Sailing is good for thinking, Dad. There's time to figure stuff out. The sea goes on forever; it just runs all the way out to the horizon. Once you learn how to do things you don't have to focus on them, you just do 'em. Your mind is free; you can really think...and you get to know what's important and what isn't. You just— you figure stuff out. When you see that big ocean rolling out like that, and the wind and sun … most stuff just don't compare to that, it isn't as big or important as you thought or as other people tell you.”

He speaks slowly but with conviction; he has this thought out.

“Dad, this year I’ve had to worry about a lot of things. About people killing me, mostly;” Jeremy waves a hand for emphasis, “or using me one way or another. Those were big things, yeah. And I had to do so much all by myself.” He turns his eyes on Greyson. “And I screwed some of it up Dad.” The eyes revert to the foliage across the path. “But sometimes people do that, they don't even have a reason for some — I just, I don't know. You told me yourself, people make mistakes. They do the wrong things, bad things even.”

“Last August, coming out to you was going to be the biggest thing in my whole world.”

Jeremy shrugs the before-struggle-irrelevancy away.

“Oh, I knew I would tell you; but it was hard. I was scared, even though I was sure you and Mom would be cool.”

Jeremy smiles; his dad smiles back.

“This wasn't hard.”

He feels the tranquility of the gardens resonating in his chest. Beyond the island of this garden, Fort-de-France hums with the tourist-commerce of Martinique. This precious-perfect moment with his dad is a quiet now. A healing pause in his uncertainties about what came before and the anxieties he feels about what comes after.

“Compared to this past year, it was easy. You make it easy.”

His tenor switches, this is less easy—for him.

“Dad. You already know things happened.” To me, Jeremy adds silently.

“I'm afraid; the FBI interview...well I am afraid I will have to say things that... that I don't want you to hear.”

He looks questioningly, uncertain for the first time today.

“I do understand. I anticipated it, Jeremy.”

Greyson knows this long flight across the ocean is ultimately about the unspeakable. Within this newly-grown son of his, the grinning-innocent-open child they loved is still hurt-ashamed.

A kill-rage for his son’s abusers flares. Still he manages to keep his voice is serene as he continues

“Son, you can ask me to leave the room for any part of the interview. There will still be two attorneys in the room to protect your interests.” Oh, the anger and hurt of it all smolder, could almost break Greyson.  “But you should know, you must understand that nothing that happened to you; nothing that others did, can shame you, diminish you in my eyes, or your mother's...”

“If you did things, if I hear them, I'm not going to be judging you. I wasn't there, you were; you had to make your own decisions, and much too early in life to be fair to lay them on you; and if some were mistakes, that's okay. And,” he continues, “just for the record, Jeremy, both Sophie and the FBI told us you were saying you're gay, and you see, of course it made no difference to your mother and me.”

Jeremy nods at his dad’s words.  

“Not ashamed exactly Dad, but I think some of it might hurt you even more than it did me, and other parts well...” And there is the tangerine-blossom-smile in this garden of botanicals that no before could take from Jeremy.

“You know Dad, you know how parents don't talk to kids about their sex lives?”

“Yes, sure.” And there is the source-grin answering back.

“Well kids don't talk to their parents about their sex lives, either.”

“Oh.” Softly; but smiles linger between them as they should always. “I didn’t know that.” Just some gentle mocking Jeremy appreciates. The before-son rolls his eyes, then this after-son turns serious-thoughtful again.

“There is some other stuff I want to talk about this weekend if, if, I can. It's not about sex, but it's hard, and maybe I need more time, I'll see.” Greyson nods and listens.

“I know more about being myself, now.” Another long pause. “I'm a lucky kid.”

“Son, do you remember when we were reading Harry Potter, the part about how we are shaped by our decisions? How that shaping was really the main point of the entire  story? We are what we do, we ultimately are the choices we make?”

“Oh, I remember when we talked about that.”

“'Tis the truth.”

“And you're saying I made my choices?”

“Well you are a lucky kid, but luck is partly of our own making. Now you've been making choices, son, and you will keep making them. You won't ever be done making them. But you're a teenager.” His fifteen-year-old son was that at least. “Your job is to figure out who you are, and your job is also to become that man. And you have to make some mistakes to learn what's not you.” Jeremy nods as if in thought. Greyson continues.

“But I'm your parent, I'm afraid; because some mistakes … like the ones in San Diego... those can have such awful consequences. From one second of decision – and hell, the worst of that wasn't actually a mistake! Defending yourself, it was not a mistake!” Greyson pauses to gather his thoughts. Somewhere, Remy is nodding firm agreement. This has been much litigated in Chillicothe. He speaks for her.

“We parents have to let you make decisions, but we also have to be sure, try to be sure, anyway, you don’t get into situations where the mistakes can ruin your life. Situations you just aren't ready to handle.” His son is not a parent. He cannot know the conundrum of caring for a priceless child. Greyson confesses, “And there's no guidebook to tell us if we're doing our part right.” He falls into silence.

“Oh, Dad. You always know what to do!” For a moment he is twelve, not fifteen. Jeremy begins to wonder who it is his decisions have made.

I didn't get to make a lot of big decisions; people forced me. Bad hands felt me, putting me into a box. I've been in boxes they made. But I still got to make decisions inside those boxes. Now, it's time to come out of them.

“Son we need to get to the hotel; your mom is off at six and we are going to FaceTime with her.”

Jeremy is tingling with anticipation, and his mother answers the call on the second ring, the tablet's screen flashes to life with his mother's pretty face … for the first time in a year he sees her, sees too how she has aged. Or is it that he sees her through new eyes?

“Mom!”

“Oh, Jem!”

Then the talk becomes the time-honored love tangle of mothers and sons too far apart for too long. This is the too-early after-world of a Jeremy grown-gone. She notes the changes, and he can't say it, he sees that she has too. They speak of soft matters; of missed holidays and birthdays, and mostly avoid talk of the concrete moments of their days; how empty each has been without the other.

But one snippet matters.

“Jem, you are a good kid.”

“No I'm not.... well, I may be good...but I am not a kid.”

"What do you mean, Jeremy?”

“You may be right, I need school. Sure. I need algebra, maybe I need to learn history. Fine. Or other stuff, fine.  I mean I know I need education, I get that. You can tell Ms. Clement I’m cool with her helping me. I don’t know what that means yet. I’m sure she (and Mary Rule) will tell me all about it. Mom, I want to catch up with the kids in my class.”

He feels his dad behind him as he tries to get them both to understand. “But Mom, they are never going to catch up with me. I am not a kid anymore and I haven't been for a long time. It's just – it's not gonna work. I don't really know what I am, Mom, but I'm just not a kid not anymore.”

Remy is taken aback. She looks towards Greyson standing solid behind her son in the tablet frame. Both parents hear-know this essential truth. The thought has been voiced over coffee; in the depths of night; in a shared glance at the supermarket when someone asks about your Jeremy. Jeremy will need his education, but after this, how can he slide back into the vapid talk of the lunch table; live the drama of the high school hallway; put heart and soul into the prosaic challenge of sports or clubs? Maybe someday Jeremy (Fourteen) Gates will go to college, but the before-rubrics of youth, “I want to grow up to be like my dad” are no longer tinged with the inevitable.

Fourteen is not his dad; his dad is neither Fourteen nor Jeremy; life lived has riven them apart, on to different paths that will never again fully converge. Of course that's ultimately how it is for every father and son, but an ordinary life has been prematurely, rudely, snatched away on that humid August night.

Jeremy tentatively opens the difficult topic.

“Mom and Dad, I think I can be a success on my own. There are ways to do it. I’ve talked with people who live out here, anyway, I want to try making my way for myself here in the islands. This one friend, he said, well, I want to be emancipated.”

He cannot say too much, not to his parents. It is just, Zachary Jain made so much sense as they talked together in the Grenadines. There were safe ways to live your life. He might not ever own his own boat, but even that was possible. Fourteen could crew, and then eventually become a delivery captain. There were always people like Anton Schroeder too busy to sail their own boats from one place to another. Zachary claimed it would be easy to find work, but not as someone’s kid. When you’re someone’s only kid, how do you tell them that you have to stop being their kid anymore?

In the talk that follows his mom chances upon the one universal truth for him.

“The only way to move forward, Jem, is to be who you are, who you authentically are.”

Emancipation felt like the last step to Jeremy Gates becoming his own man. Fourteen needed to break the spell the abduction exercised over him. Do this, and Jeremy Gates is no longer a Lost Boy; that doesn't mean he has found his way home, either.

Hotel Room

September 2, 2018 – 11:30 am

“Jeremy, we need to get the FBI off your back, our backs. They have their case open, you were kidnapped, they need to hear enough to know that the case is closed. That is the purpose of this interview, the sole thing we want to get out of it.”

“We must keep in mind these are not just detectives or police they are also bureaucrats they must fill in their forms properly and if we don't help them get what they want, they will keep at it forever,” says William Price fresh off the flight from Miami.

“Now they have caught your kidnappers, and that in ordinary ways might do the trick. But they are going to ask about Dr. Fisher who may have, legally speaking, helped to kidnap you or at least continued your kidnap. They are going to try to find someone who has done other crimes because as it is they have no one they can parade around in front of the cameras and point to as going to jail.”

“That part's very frustrating for them. It's not what they do. But if you give them the right answers I feel comfortable they'll just cut their losses and end it all. The longer it drags out the more they want something to point towards, but the less they'll take if it makes them look good.”

“If they cannot throw someone in jail the next best thing for them will be to stand in front of cameras on the lawn of your home in Chillicothe and show that they have saved you, brought you safely home.”

This sounded ominous to Jeremy (Fourteen) Gates. He had held his own in the discussion with his mom and dad about his determination to stay in the Caribbean, he is not going to return to Chillicothe if he can help it. Oh someday, but not now. Fourteen is beyond being some live-at-home, lawn-mowing kid. He may not know what he will do, but he knows what he can't. Jeremy’s mouth twitches to the side like a shrug. Greyson catches this.

William Price moves on. “So if we can't give them anything for the cameras we have to make them believe there is nothing at all that will fill that desire, and to accept reality and move on. They will ask about your time at the compound and about your travels with Cordell Faulkner. Now I can tell from our discussion this morning that you don't think you did anything wrong until you got to the house where this Elvis was. I need you to understand how they could look at it, Jeremy. You handled bricks of cocaine. You helped Faulkner transport this cocaine. You drove the vehicle. You trafficked in cocaine, get ready for twenty years in Atlanta Federal Prison if they find out.”

Fourteen is speechless, shocked, and afraid. He is angry too, Damn boxes.

“Okay, I have your attention now. I can see, I don't think they would really get you in that deep, but if they have no one else to go after they might. They could easily put you in for a few years at least. And who knows what they might find in your current travels. You used a false passport, a federal crime right there.”

This is what Fourteen feared. More adult decisions, and he is in Patrick Hunter’s back-bunk box. Fourteen can just imagine the man’s manic singing beside him in the Bronco. ♪♫♬ Somebody’s gonna hurt someone before the night is through. Somebody’s gonna come undone. There’s nothin’ we can do. ♪♫♬

A look from his dad steadies Fourteen. He has been run to ground. Zachary Jain told Fourteen, “The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.”  He needs to trust these men.

“So the less you say the better,” William Price pauses to let let the weight of this advice sink in. “But on the other hand, we have to give them enough meat in the interview to think you are not hiding something or someone. We need to work out a strategy that will get them off your back and not get them interested in some other criminal actions by someone else.” This last with a finger pointed at Jeremy Gates. “Do you understand now?”

Fourteen nods his head. The back-bunk after seems a bit less inevitable now.

“Now let's discuss what you can say about the really dicey parts. I think you have to avoid even mentioning Elvis, um Parker, you did nothing illegal you were entirely the victim but again, they might be tempted to hang him about your neck, young man. It's illegal to lie to the FBI, so you have to have answers that aren't lies, but don't tell the truth either. And especially about when you arrived in San Diego.

“This is lawyer talk, you won't be under oath. You can't lie but you don't have to tell the truth. The rules your dad and I have negotiated for this interview will give you the best chance. ”

“Huh?”

“If you were under oath you'd have to tell the truth, and maybe the whole truth. Jeremy there is a whole lot of space between the truth and a lie. You can leave things out and you will. You can say things that are ambiguous; unclear. Unclear is your friend. Well, you'll see as we go along.”

“You can refuse entirely to answer questions. But we can't use that too often. You can talk to me or the other attorney – or your dad—  any time you want and if you aren't absolutely sure of the right way to answer a question you should ask to confer with us.”

“Ask to confer.” Fourteen nods.

“And if we need to we can leave the room to confer. You can stop for every question if you like though that should not be necessary. But I want not one word out of your mouth that you can't own as not untrue. No lies. Not much truth in some places. One big danger here is we don't know what they know, though based on what we've been over with your dad, the FBI has big holes in the information they have. That's unusual and mostly works in our favor. Still we have to be careful that they don't come back in the next year or two and charge you with lying to a federal agent. So remember: unsaid is not a lie, unclear is not a lie.”

“So, let's work some magic, let's try some questions and see how you do. If we can get you through this interview and they decide as it seems they must that there are no more crimes they can prosecute and that they are ready to close the abduction case that is a big win for us. So that's our goal. And normally I'd want to spend a week prepping you for this but we have only today. So we make the best of it.”

“Your advantage is being a young, dumb kid as they see it, and the danger from my perspective is that you are young dumb kid. And not a lawyer. No offense you're obviously not dumb but if you were a lawyer we'd just run out the clock answering the first three questions. And it isn't bad if the FBI underestimates you.”

It was a very long day.

Fort-de-France, Martinique

September 3, 2018

“Why didn't he tell me Dad, Levi pretended he didn't care, but why would he do all this if he didn't care? If he loved me... he could have used that passport to get me to Vietnam with him, that's what he had talked about. But...”

The tears he sheds are large.

Nifty Stories

by PHILIP MARKS

A Father's Love: A Story of Redemption
Young Will is headed for trouble until he meets Paul on his way.
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/a-fathers-love.pdf

I Can See Clearly Now
First Love is a heady mix

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/i-can-see-clearly-now.pdf

Stories In The Human Calculus
A series of short stories about a boy figuring out his life and those who help him along the way.

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/stories-in-the-human-calculus/

FOURTEEN CHAPTERS AT

PHILIP MARKS' WORDPRESS SITE

These chapters may include limited illustrations and updated or revised versions

of the Nifty Chapters

Fourteen Chapter 24 - The Chillicothe Interlude

https://gayadult49.wordpress.com/2019/10/28/the-chillicothe-interlude/

Fourteen Chapter 27 - Dustoff

https://gayadult49.wordpress.com/2019/11/06/dustoff/

Fourteen Chapter 36 - Summer Camp Day

https://gayadult49.wordpress.com/2019/12/16/summer-camp-day/

Fourteen Chapter 52 - We Got Shoes

https://gayadult49.wordpress.com/2020/08/29/patrick-john-part-ii-we-got-shoes/

Fourteen Chapter 54 – A Chapter from Chillicothe

https://gayadult49.wordpress.com/2020/08/17/county-fair-time-again/