 
### My Justice My Revenge

### By Terry J. Mickow

Copyright © 2012 by Terry J. Mickow

Smashwords Edition  
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My Justice My Revenge is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1  
Chapter 2  
Chapter 3  
Chapter 4  
Chapter 5  
Chapter 6  
Chapter 7  
Chapter 8  
Chapter 9  
Chapter 10  
Chapter 11  
Chapter 12  
Chapter 13  
Chapter 14  
Chapter 15  
Chapter 16  
Chapter 17  
Chapter 18  
Chapter 19  
Chapter 20  
Chapter 21  
Chapter 22  
Chapter 23  
Chapter 24  
Chapter 25  
Chapter 26  
Chapter 27  
Chapter 28

Chapter 1

Looking around the courtroom I saw all the people who have been involved with this case from the beginning. On the pews, directly behind the States Attorney's table, sat my immediate family and me. To the right and behind us sat other family members and our friends. My wife, who had endured endless hours, days, months, and even years of waiting for this moment, showed the tension on her face. To see the torment and fear in her eyes as she awaits the answers still upset me. My sons and daughters hoping it would soon be over sat quietly, not even a whisper between them. This was especially true for my one son who was affected by the whole occurrence the most. Nervously, he rocks back and forth, almost as if in his own world. There were other family members consoling and giving him words of encouragement. They too sensed the end was near.

Behind me sit the police officers that worked very hard on a case that was very difficult for them, for the simple reason that at one time I was one of them, a police officer for thirty years. They were completely aware I knew what was going on in side room talks and armchair quarterbacking. There were the people from the children's center, psychologists, investigators, and other State's Attorneys, all in support of our family.

Over on the other side of the room, behind him and his defense attorneys sat his family; his mother, father, two brothers and one sister. His mother was continuing her stare at me. She would never stop. Ever since this started four years ago, she had blamed me for bringing this hardship on her family.

I had received letters from his sister as to the loss she will have to endure if something goes wrong for him. I have sat through testimony of his mother and father, that they had lied so poorly; there should be no doubts in anybody's mind.

Probably the hardest thing though, was to watch him sit at his table with his two attorneys, smiling, even laughing at times. Did he really think he would ever get off, walk out a free man?

As I sat and watched I heard the State's Attorneys affirm, "Your Honor, the State rests." At which time the Judge gave the jurors their final instructions. As they exit the courtroom, I watched each and every one of them, trying my hardest to use all the training I had had, to read their body language. I could not get a good read. All that was left was to wait. We had been waiting four years since this investigation had started. Now it was time to wait some more.

The jury was out for a total of two and a half days. They were not sequestered, as this case did not make much news, except for when the charges were originally alleged. There would be newspaper coverage after the trial, but not as it was going on. When the word went out of a verdict being reached, from the first sign of the jury pushing the button for the deputy, to the telephone calls made to all involved, people started arriving back into the courtroom. As everyone was brought back into the courtroom for the verdict, they took the same seats where they sat during the whole trial. Is it not strange how people become possessive of items that do not even belong to them? But for now, these seats were ours.

Everyone was now standing, even the Judge, as the twelve jurors enter the courtroom. Judge Peterson says, "Everyone come to order."

The Judge asks the Forman of the jury, "Have you reached a verdict?"

As the Forman looks right into my eyes, he states, "We have Your Honor."

I take this look as if it could be good or it could be bad. My mind starts racing. All these years, have they been for nothing? No one on the jury is looking my way. Everything that has happened over these last few years is going over and over in my head. Everyone's pain. Again and again I hear the State's Attorney say, "The State rests."

It is at this point everything slows to 33 and 1/3rd. I look at my family and friends. I look at the deputy, the Judge, the State's Attorneys, the defense attorneys, his mother and father, then finally at him. I get up, and as if moving through water chest deep, I make my way towards him. My best friend, detective Evan Tonka, sees the gun in my hand. He yells, "No, Timmy no." I have him, the rotten slime that hurt my son, right next to me. I pulled the trigger once, twice, three times; I'm not even sure. I hear the sound of bullets piercing the skin. It is a dull sound of skin breaking. Pop, pop, pop. It is all like a dream. There are screams from all sides of the room. The noise was so loud it was almost too loud to hear.

Chapter 2

The noise was almost too loud to hear. The babies were crying in their high chairs. The five year old screaming, "Daddy don't, please don't."

The mother yelling, "Get out of this house."

The father, perhaps loudest of all, "You'll pay for this bitch."

There I was right in the middle, trying to restore some resemblance of calm to a turbulent ocean. I can't believe that when I became a police officer, just three years prior, all I wanted was to save the world, or at least my town. I wanted to help everyone. Make the big arrest. I just wanted to be a good cop.

But here I was standing in the middle of the every weekend Saturday night fights. I felt sorry for the kids, knowing this would follow them through their lives. Every fight, every word, would be remembered. The wife stood trembling, wearing her old dress that had seen many better days, but that was so long ago. Her hair was stringy and tied back. Was it that she had no one to fix herself up for? Would he not see the real beauty in her eyes? The eyes that now only held fear. The eyes that were now starting to turn purple from being struck.

After I get them to break it up, he sits in his chair. Looking like the king of the roost. Smelling like he had way too many beers. Talking in that slurred speech that only someone who was drinking with him could really understand.

It was this night I was training our newest officer. This one was right out of the

Marines. He stood back, watching. First I spoke to the woman. "Has he hit you?"

"No," the answer I had come to expect. Because no matter how bad it was with him, it would be worse without him. Or so they thought. "He has just had a little too much to drink. He'll be better tomorrow."

But what about the beating she would surely receive tonight, if for nothing else, for calling the police. "You know he'll beat you after we leave."

The new trainee, Clifford Russle, asks me on the side, "Will he really beat her?"

"Soon as we leave," I told him.

"Then let's arrest him, to protect her," he responded.

"The right thing to do, but not the legal option," I said.

We could not make an arrest unless the victim would sign a complaint. There was nothing we could do unless we witnessed the crime. We would have to wait until she was battered more than she already was. And it was my bet; she would not call back, after this beating. Russle asked, "What can we do then? We can't just leave."

I walked over to her husband. I crouched down by him in his chair. "Look at those kids," I said. "Their eyes are as big as silver dollars. How can you continue this fighting in front of them?" He wasn't yelling anymore. I could actually see a tear build up inside his eye as he looked at his children. "I know you and your wife are having some problems, but let's keep it from them. They only see the two most important people in their lives fighting."

"And look at her over there; she must have really turned some heads in her day."

"Still does," he corrected me.

"You have here what many men can only dream of. How about this, you get yourself together a little bit, and I'll take you anywhere in town and tomorrow I bet she'll pick you up with a smile on her face."

He was breathing harder. His eyes were full with tears. His words were broken. "Do you...really...think so?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll...get ready."

Before we left I asked her if she would be all right for the night and if she'd pick him up in the morning. "Sure I will, he is a great guy. Sometimes he just drinks too much, when he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders."

As we dropped him off at a friend's house about eight blocks away he thanked us over and over again. "How did you do that?" Russle asked. "It was World War Three and you brought peace to the world."

"That's why they call us peace officers." I answered with a laugh. "Just treat people how you would want to be treated."

"Amazing, just amazing," Russle said.

Chapter 3

There I was running late again for roll call. This three to eleven shift will kill me. But so will seven to three and eleven to seven. No rest for the wicked, I guess. Just get into my seat by two forty-five. All the normal guys sitting around, ha, that's quite the word to use, normal. There's Russle, Mike Mansolini, and Keith Sommers. Standing in front of our group is Sgt. Larry A. Waters. He shortened that to the initials LAW.

He was a good sergeant, not liked much by the brass. Took too much time at calls, actually had feelings for the people he came into contact with. I always tried to pattern myself after that philosophy. He could be harsh but fair.

Standing next to him was this kid around fifteen, maybe sixteen years old. Sergeant Waters told the group, "This is our new cadet. It will become his job to collect parking lot money, issue parking tickets; do dog calls, and what ever other Hell we decide to put him through. Class meet Jeffrey Motter."

Nobody really knew what he would be doing as he was our first cadet. "Timmy, you get to train him. He'll ride with you for awhile." Oh great. I had some personal business to get done tonight. Oh well, looks like that goes on hold.

"Hi Jeffrey, what we'll do is check out our car. Always make sure there are no new dents, scratches, missing bumpers, etc." This is what you always told the new guys. For it was policy. Of course, when you were by yourself you would never take the time. Okay, some did, but what the hell. After checking for dents, I checked the trunk to make sure all the equipment was there. Then checked the inside and made sure all lights and equipment on the vehicle were working. Everything apparently in order, we got in and drove away.

"So, how did you get this job?" I asked Jeffrey.

"Just was talking to Chief Thomas Pettry and he mentioned he was thinking of adding the position. Told him I'd like a shot at it. I got some recommendations from my teachers and here I am."

"What do you want to be?"

"I think a cop. Seems like a good job. What do you like most about being one?"

"I don't really know how to put it into words. I just like helping people. I would really like to work with kids. I think being around kids, working with them, can keep you young. Keep you up on what's going on in the young world."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I like talking to kids too."

We drove around, talking about our families and other work related issues. We stopped a few cars for speeding. But I didn't give any tickets. "Don't they want you to issue tickets?" Motter asked.

"Well, let's say they wouldn't mind it, but at least it is up to us if we issue or not. Mostly they want you to have contact, you know, police presence."

We didn't get any calls until about nine o'clock. The scratchy voice of our dispatcher, Anna Lynn, came over the radio. "Nine-eighteen at 1645 Baker Street. A. D. T. Security Alarm Company will be in route. ETA thirty minutes."

I told Jeffrey it was an alarm and the company wouldn't get there for about thirty minutes. I also told him to wait in the car once we got there.

Upon our arrival, Mike Mansolini arrived from the west. "Where are you coming from?" I asked, knowing he had a patrol zone to the east of us.

"I had to stop at the hardware store in Romoville after work. But since it closes at ten I thought I'd do now what I won't be able to do later."

I had to laugh, but also thought of how he would explain his arrival before the Sergeant. No time to think about it now though, we had to see if it was another false alarm or was someone entering without permission.

We started at the front of Plasticworks. This was a company that manufactured the helmets for pro football teams. All doors and windows appeared secured. While walking around the building we saw the side door on the east side closed, but it had some fresh wood broken by the doorknob. A slight pull of the door and it opened.

I called out to dispatch there was an open door. I also advised to let the alarm company know. This was so they would not walk into the building without us knowing it. Sergeant Waters would have heard me over the radio talking to the dispatcher, so he was aware of the situation.

We entered the building, no more talking too loud. We were now in police mode. Nothing mattered but our safety. We are looking in every direction, including up, as some times an offender would climb up and be watching from above. Also listening came into play. All the sounds you would never normally hear, you now heard. Too bad I listened to my music a little too loud because some of my hearing was not what it once was.

Then we heard what sounded like just a mumble. Sounded like two maybe three males. No distinctive words could be understood but voices that sounded quite perturbed.

As we slowly walked toward the voices we heard, "What the fuck. You said there would be a large amount of money from the sale last week."

"How was I to know they would have banked the money already?" I saw from around the corner the last one to speak was a male, about twenty-five. He looked like he worked out everyday of the week.

"Next time your company sells all that equipment; make sure the money is here for us. This is too risky for us with no benefit and it looks like there will be no benefit for us tonight."

I looked at Mansolini. He nodded. It was time to let them know not only the money was not there, the cops were.

"Everyone freeze." Yeah just like in the movies, but it gets the point across.

They looked at each other like deer caught in the headlights of a car. No one even ran. We cuffed them, gave them their rights, and walked them to the side door.

Waiting outside was Sergeant Waters. "Good job guys."

After we had them secured in our cars Sergeant Waters asked Mansolini why he was there. "I heard the call and was on my way for a coffee. I thought I'd save you the trouble of walking through the warehouse so I backed Timmy up. Good thing too, right Timmy? I mean the way they ran, the one climbing the ladder. Never thought he'd come back down on his own. But you know what; leave me out of it Timmy just make yourself look good. Say, I don't know, say like they just gave up in the report."

Sergeant Waters just said to figure it out our selves. We told him okay, went back to the police station, booked and then transported the three to DuPaca County Jail.

On the way back from jail we both laughed over and over about what had to be done to fight crime. It wasn't always what you did but how you had to go about getting the job done. Hey, sometimes it made the job bearable.

Chapter 4

The night was a beautiful July night. Although for me the seventy-two degrees was still a little chilly. But being that it was eleven o'clock in the evening, I guess it was not too bad. There was a slight breeze and a full moon. Oddly enough, there was not much noise coming from the street. Not much traffic.

As we stepped outside from the station I heard officer Bill Wasmiak say, "Boys I can smell 'em." With that he pulled the air to his nose with his right hand. "Yeah, they are out there."

He was referring to lovers. He was known to walk up to cars with lovers in them, wait until he knew the guy was about to blow a load, hammer the hood of the car and watch an explosion occur as the guy backed off his date at the worst time. There would be soilage all over the car, the girl, and the guy himself. Then he would ask, "What's going on?"

On a night like this he was sure some would turn up at some time and he would probably be correct.

It was relatively a slow night for a Saturday night. We did our patrols, and then waited. There were some officers working radar, some looking for drunk drivers.

It was about two in the morning when a call came in. The dispatcher gave it out as an accident with injuries. It involved a motorcycle. We knew right away it would not be nice. I arrived at the intersection of Route 4 and Butnam Street. The motorcycle was split completely in two. The driver was still lying on the roadway, no helmet. The car that struck him was off to the side of the road. I heard the sirens of the fire department coming. There were also additional squads in route. The woman driver of the car was screaming, "I never saw him. He didn't have his lights on." She was a lady of around sixty years of age. Gray hair wrinkled skin on her face and hands. Her hands were shaking, almost uncontrollably. I asked for her driver's license and told her to wait by her car.

The motorcycle driver was about twenty-five years old. He had dark hair, the start of a beard, which was turning blood red very fast, wearing a thin leather jacket and pants. Officers Wasmiak and Keith Sommers arrived. Wasmiak started directing traffic around the area. Sommers went to the lady driver.

As the ambulance and fire department arrived, I was leaning over the motorcycle driver. Paramedic Andy Jones knelt down next to me. As he was looking at the motorcyclist Sommers yelled out, "I need help over here." The lady car driver had fallen to the ground. Sommers thought she had a heart attack. A second paramedic went to her aid.

Wilson told me it looked like the motorcyclist had a broken leg besides all the cuts opened up on his body and head. Good guess, I thought, as his leg was in a position only a contortionist would find enjoyable.

The whole intersection was shut down now. The fire trucks and squad cars were blocking the roads. I looked up to see the lady being placed on a stretcher. She was then moved to an ambulance. I was holding the motorcyclist's head. The blood was coming out in at least two different areas. It is true that head wounds bleed more than other areas, but this was serious.

I held his head as the paramedics worked on his legs and the rest of his body to prepare for the move to the stretcher. From over my shoulder I heard, "Officer, where is your hat?"

I did not look at first but after two or three times I turned to see my Chief standing on the parkway pointing at me. I looked at the guy I was holding then at the paramedics. Again I heard, "Put on your hat."

We do have a policy that says you will wear your hat whenever you are out of your car. And I was out of my car. One paramedic asked. "Is he kidding?"

"Unfortunately no," I answered.

"What's gonna happen?"

"If I don't get up now, go to my car and put on my hat, I'll get a day off without pay."

"You have GOT to be kidding?"

"No, might even be more."

"Go ahead get your hat, we'll hold him and get him in the ambulance."

I got up, looked at the Chief, who no doubt had a few drinks in him, and retrieved my precious hat. As I looked back they were getting ready to put the motorcyclist into the ambulance.

One of the firemen called me later to tell me the woman was fine. He also said that, although he was in serious condition, the motorcyclist was going to make it.

By five-thirty in the morning I was headed into the seven-eleven for something to drink and maybe a candy bar. I got out of my car, wearing my uniform hat that had to be on. Picked up a large diet coke and changed my mind on the candy bar. The drink would be enough to keep me awake after I went home and got into bed. I would be getting up every hour for the processing of this drink. I didn't think I needed sugar too.

I carried the big drink, sixty-four ounces of liquid enjoyment, to my squad car. I entered the car looking to see if another squad was in the area. Not seeing one I called Wasmiak over the side channel. This was the chat channel. If we wanted to meet or talk non-business, this is where it was done.

"Bill, it's Timmy here on the side."

"Yeah, Timmy, go ahead."

"How about having a get together over on Tower Road?"

"Fine, just have to make a quick stop and I'll be right there."

That meant he was either getting a drink for himself or he was taking a pee, or both. Anyway he would be there shortly.

Now since everyone working can hear us on the chat channel including the Sergeant, we devised ways to communicate without them knowing what we were saying. We would not be doing anything really bad but just meeting was a no no. However most of the time the Sergeants just turned their heads and let it go. If we didn't want them to know what was going on we spoke in a language only we knew. And, of course, we constantly changed it.

But here it was, almost six in the morning; we still had time to do one last round, then homeward bound.

I pulled only about half way down Tower Road. It really wasn't a real road, more of a drive that went to a telephone tower. I sat in my car waiting for Wasmiak.

When he pulled up we both got out of our cars.

"Well, see any of them last night?" I asked.

"No, but I thought for sure I had smelled 'em. Maybe it was the wind that threw me off," he replied with a little depression in his voice.

Not only was Wasmiak a good cop, he took pride in his ability to "sniff" out lovers.

"Hey, what's that down there at the end of the road?" He was looking down the road almost standing on his toes. "Could it be?" I saw a glimmer enter his eyes. Perhaps, just maybe, he would not be denied.

"See the car down there? Let's walk down and see what's going on." He had a smile that he could not hide cross his face.

We started walking, very slow movements. He was very precise not wanting anyone to catch something out of a corner of his or her eyes.

It was about five hundred yards we would have to walk. As we got closer to the car we could not see anyone in the vehicle. I looked around the area to make sure there was no one next to the trees or bushes.

The sun was coming up and daylight was upon us. Wasmiak motioned me to the passenger side of the car.

I could see that there were two naked people in the passenger seat. The seat was reclined all the way back. The male was behind the female and she was on her hands and knees. Her head was actually lying on the back seat. He was driving her with all the force of a four twenty six engine of the mid sixties.

Wasmiak was on the driver's side getting a full view of the two bodies. I realized why he had me go to the passenger side. When he motioned me over, but slowly, very slowly, I got the same view.

With every pump in the back end you could see her breast jilt forward. She appeared to be about thirty, maybe thirty-five by the looks of her body. She was very trim and in very good shape. Her hair was light brown fairly long, hanging in her face, covering it. I could not see her face. She could not see me.

The male had semi long black hair that seemed to be perfectly placed on his head. There was not one hair out of place. His arms indicated he probably worked out with weights.

By the sounds coming out of the car, which had its windows slightly open, the end was near. There was all the moaning one would want in a heated exchange between man and woman.

Just then the male, looked right at Wasmiak and myself. I heard Bill whisper under his breath, "Bobby."

I looked at Wasmiak, who never took his eyes off of the two. I then saw the male in the car, Bobby; hold up one finger, indicating hold on one moment. He then held up five fingers. He was now indicating five more minutes, never missing a beat in his lovemaking. So he continued to pound as we continued to watch. Once the moaning and screaming got to pitches where there was no mistaking it was over, Wasmiak and I walked away. The female would never know we had been there.

Walking back to our cars, a bit faster than we arrived, I asked Wasmiak, "Who was that?"

"That was Bobby the barber at the Colonial Resort. Probably one of the girls he picked up in their bar." said Wasmiak.

"Well he sure wasn't that shy."

"He knows me pretty well. And he knows I won't tell his wife."

"I figured that when we got the five more minutes sign."

"Yeah, sort of sorry I hurried him. But she was something to look at, huh?"

"Yes she was. Think you'll ever see her again?"

"I guess that'll depend if I smell it in the air and the two of them are out again."

We got into our cars and sped off. We had to make one last check to make sure no houses were missing in town. And who knows, maybe when I get home my wife will be up.

Chapter 5

Well, when I arrived home and snuggled next to my wife, Donna, she said no. I gave out the male universal sigh, the big intake of air, and the loud escape of same. Then the slow turn to lie back to back.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by that answer. We had not been getting along too well lately. There had been more yelling than talking. No communication. We were just passing time.

I don't know, maybe it was my fault. I was never home like normal families, working hours I hated too. When she started going out I thought it would help but it was only a band-aid on a gaping wound.

Lately though things were getting even worse. When the telephone rang she would run to pick it up. Then talk so soft; I didn't think anyone would be able to hear her. Which I found out later was true. Except it was me who was not suppose to hear her.

I would go into work and meet with different guys but wouldn't really discuss my problems. The only one I sometimes discussed it with was the Cadet, Jeffrey Motter. He was still a kid and had no idea about women but I could talk and he really never answered back. We became good friends, mostly I believe due to our interest in kids. I would tell him how I wanted to be a juvenile officer, but it was never to happen.

I would go to work, put on my make up, and do the job, as I would say. The person you would see was not the person in front of you. Then I would go home to yell and fight. This could not go on.

Chapter 6

One night when I was working with Wasmiak, he called me over to meet. He called me on the chat channel, "Timmy, area six number two."

I knew this meant the industrial park, second building north. This could be a number of buildings but it gave an area that no Sergeants would know.

When I saw his squad next to a factory I started towards him. He then proceeded to drive to the rear of the building. I knew he wanted to talk about something, because of the code, so I guess we'd be here a little while.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Timmy, if I knew something and I thought it would hurt you, you would still want me to tell you, right?" Then he quickly added, "I think you should know."

"Bill, what are you talking about?" I asked, not knowing where this was going to take me.

I looked at Bill trying to see into his head. He was having some trouble telling me what was on his mind. "Am I in some kind of trouble at work?" I couldn't think of anything I had done that was really bad. Okay, throwing my nightstick at that car as it just missed me while directing traffic wasn't very professional, but the bastard almost ran me over.

"Bill, just tell me."

"Well, I was at the Colonial Resort talking to Bobby. Remember he was the barber that was nice enough to let us watch a live porno? Anyway, as I was getting ready to leave the parking lot I saw your wife's car parked by the health club. I didn't think much of it, as it's been there a lot lately."

"I know Bill; she's been saying she has to get into better shape."

"Well, it's just that, ahhh, as I was pulling around I saw a guy walk up to the car. He got out of his car, looked around as if scouting the parking lot. I thought he was going to put a brick through your window. But instead he leaves a piece of paper." Bill was watching me the whole time. Watching for some reaction I guess. But so far there was none.

My heart was pounding. I didn't know where this was going but I didn't think it would be good. We have been having trouble but...

"It was a note Timmy. From that guy to your wife."

"Did you read it?" I asked not knowing if I wanted a yes or no answer.

"Yes, I did."

"What did it say?"

"I watched the guy put it on the window, then he drove away. I watched him leave the parking lot. I made a note of the vehicle, a newer dark blue Lincoln. I also got the plates."

"That's all great Bill, but what did the note say?"

"I went to your car, took the note off, and then read it. After reading it I thought you should see it." He reached down on the seat next to him and picked up a hand written note. He handed it to me.

"This is it?"

"Not exactly. I took it to the police station, made a copy of it, and then returned the original to her car. Sorry."

"My wife never saw you?"

"I don't think she ever came out of the resort health club," he answered.

I took the note, opened it and began reading. It talked about maybe seeing her later tonight, at the usual place. It also said how much he loved her and was very appreciative of all the things she does for and to him.

"Did you read this?" I asked with just a hint of being choked up in my voice. No matter how much you know something like this could be occurring, no matter how many feelings have been lost along the way, it still hurts and you just feel shitty.

Now I knew where she was getting all her attention. It was not at home from you. And she'll probably deny she did anything wrong.

"She's just a bitch," I said. No other words could describe it. She was a bitch that was killing me, ripping my heart apart.

"Sorry, pal. If there's anything I can do. I don't know what to say. Hope I did the right thing," he said with a quizzical, hopeful voice.

"Oh you did. How else would I have ever found out? You did something I should have done on my own, a long time ago. But I had false hope, not wanting to believe what was in front of my own eyes. No, you helped me, it's just going to take awhile now." I could see he was second-guessing himself if he in fact did the right thing. But friends, real friends tell you the good stuff and when you need to hear it, they tell you the bad stuff.

Now the only thing that remained was to figure out how it would play out. It wasn't just the two of us, but the kids.

Chapter 7

After work I went home. Since it was about eleven p.m. and I didn't want to start up with my wife I just looked into the bedroom. She already was lying in bed, either asleep or pretending to be. I guess it was a no show from lover boy.

So to the local bar I go. You know, where everybody knows your name. But unfortunately everyone also knows what you do for a living. Many times I had been approached about, my son is in trouble for this? Hey, what should you do if a cop pulls you over for D.U.I.? Should I get an attorney?

But tonight I wanted to be alone. And I was. So alone I could almost cry. The song that came to mind was, "I'm so lonesome I could cry." Funny, when you are down, sad songs fill your head. So I attempted to drink my troubles away. That didn't happen either, only made them worse.

Between the booze and playing songs on the jukebox I went through a bit of money. The only contact I had with someone outside of my juke box world was when a drunken woman, who I didn't even know, put her arms around me and asked me to dance. I thanked her for the offer but let her know the only dancing would be in my head. I bought her a drink and had it sent to her table. Then I got up and left.

It was about eight a.m. when I felt a cold hand wake me up with a sting that continued over and over again. Finally, after many hits, I realized I was getting my ass kicked. I went into the fetal position to stop the pain. What the hell was happening, I wondered.

After the arms had stopped flailing at me, I saw my wife kneeling over me. Again I asked myself, what the hell was this? But before I could ask any questions I heard, "Where were you last night? And who were you with?" She was screaming at me. The redness in her eyes might have been from crying but right at that moment I would have to believe it was the devil that was coming from her body, out through her eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" I shouted as I thought I had only four or five hours of sleep. I just found out she is sleeping with another man. And she has just slapped the shit out of me for sleeping.

"No, no, none of your bullshit of changing the story. Just answer the questions," she yelled, almost having spit roll down her lip.

She was breathing so hard I thought she would have a heart attack right there and save us both some agony. Her hands were shaking. She almost appeared as I would have been last night had I not been working and had to control myself. She was acting out how I felt at the bar last night.

"Well then, repeat the damn questions," I gasped between breaths. I was also breathing faster than I could talk.

"Where were you after work last night?" she repeated.

"I came home. You were sleeping so I went to Boston's for a drink. Something wrong with that?" I still had no idea what had happened or where any of this was coming from.

"Who were you with?" she asked. But when she asked it she positioned herself as if the answer would lead to more battering of my head.

"I was by myself," I told her. Note to self, trust your instincts.

She then proceeded to raise her voice to unintelligible octaves, have her eyes turn completely red, gleaming with the poison of the devil, and start to slap, kick and bite me anywhere the impact would land.

"What are you doing?" I pleaded with her to answer.

"I smell her on you."

Now, let me tell you, when you are getting slapped around more than a hockey puck, it's hard to figure out something that is nowhere in your mind to recapture. So I came back with, "What?"

She stopped hitting again. Then she started to explain. "I smell a woman's perfume on you."

I tried to think back through the alcohol induced brain patterns what happened last night. I remember the note. She was sleeping. I went to the bar, stayed alone, listened to music, was asked to dance, I refused. Wait, the woman that asked me to dance put her arm around me. That had to be it. With my mind moving quite fast I thought, honesty is the best policy, but lie till you die. However, I was innocent this time. So I told her, "I was at the bar. A woman asked me to dance and I told her no."

"You expect me to believe that?" She was now standing shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

I thought it was a good sign. Not anything she was doing, but when she stood up, there was a small distance between us. It was very small, but out of reach.

I too had calmed down some by this time. I answered, "It's the truth."

I'm not sure what she believed because she got up, walked to the door, and said, "I have to get the kids to school."

I lay there, beaten, battered, and bruised. What the hell had just happened? What I did know was that my wife was cheating on me and I received a damn good beating because of it. Women, you can't live with them, and you can't live with them.

Chapter 8

Some time had passed and my life had seemed like it was going on the skids. Sometimes like rock bottom, only to sink a little lower. There were constant fights at home. Work seemed unsatisfying. I had not told my wife I knew of her affair. I didn't know up from down.

The only time I felt good was blasted out on any kind of alcohol I could get. I would pass out. Then not remember anything. Now I know some people call that alcoholism; I like to think of it as survival. I know there would have been times I would not have made it had it not been for mind alteration.

So here I sit waiting to walk out to my squad car and solve the world's problems, at least the town's problems. Because I don't talk to anyone, no one knows of the time bomb walking around.

After I get my car I drive to Jeffrey Motter's house. He lives with his parents. Which in itself is a bit weird but he's a friend so I can overlook most things.

He tells me he is starting his own business. He's going to try being an electrical contractor. If he can get in with a few builders and do some side jobs he would be doing all right.

Jeff knows my wife and I are having problems, but even he doesn't know the extent. While we are in his basement apartment he tells me if ever his business takes off I can work for him. I appreciate the offer but don't want to work any more than I have to.

He says, "I was at the school the other day in the unmarked car. The kids all love it. Some of them wanted a ride in it but I told them no."

"Good thing, you would lose this job," I advised him.

"Yeah, that's why I told some of them to come to my house so they can ride my four wheeler."

"I don't know if that's a good idea either. If someone gets hurt they could maybe come after the police department."

"Fuck the police department. They said I'd have to take the police test to get hired as a cop. They have done that for others. Just hire them with the wave of a hand." His words were bitter. Not with hurt but more like hate.

"These kids like me 'cause I don't bullshit them. They have a question; I give them a straight up answer."

"I had one over last week. We had a ball." He talked of how they rode the four wheeler, went to game rooms and a show.

"His mom didn't mind?"

"Of course not, she knew all about it."

Chapter 9

I started to notice my production on the department started going down. My heart wasn't in it. I actually started thinking of getting out. But deep down I knew this was my calling. Serve the people of this town and uphold the law. But I did realize that I was still sinking down. It was like quicksand. Only I was not aware how deep I could go.

I can recall some high school kids coming up to me saying they remember some of the things I had told them in Kids in Policing.

Some of it just common sense, pick a good friend, and tell them everything. This saved one girl from getting into trouble one night. She was out with a group that started drinking for the first time. She was thirteen. Some twenty-year-olds obtained the booze. She didn't partake. Then when she wanted to go the group said no, not before you finish the bottle.

By this time her parents had expected her home. They called her best friend. Knowing the girl at the party would want the friend to tell her parents where she was located she told them. The parents arrived and all the kids were taken home. Both friends had discussed that if ever a parent asks a question of their whereabouts, the other would tell them where they were.

Simple, if you feel it's wrong, it probably is. If only I would have listened to myself.

It was times like these that kept me going. However, there were also the low times. I would drive around for eight hours just to go home and fight. Not a good life for me, my kids, or even my wife.

Then there came the day after another night in the bar. Don't know what time I rolled in, but I do know it wasn't long enough of a sleep, when the screaming of my wife broke my sleep. It was the same old thing. Except this time I couldn't hold back. I just did not care at all. When the time has come for a marriage to be over, you will know it's over.

By this time I didn't even care what she was doing. But out of my mouth came, "What about the guy you are with? Want to tell me about him?" she stopped in her tracks. I thought I finally had the last word.

As we were standing face to face by this time she promptly raised her knee right into my groin. The pain circled through me as I went to my knees. That was the last time this would happen.

I screamed right back at her, "We are done. I'm leaving. I have no feelings for you, you bitch." My eyes were still tearing from the strike I had just taken, but I felt good for saying it. She put a look on her face like; you're kidding right? But I grabbed my wallet and keys to my motorcycle.

As I walked out of my bedroom the absolute worst thing I could have seen was waiting for me at the end of the hall. My boy and girl were standing arms hanging down at their sides, their eyes bloodshot red from crying. Standing in their pajamas, mouths open but no words coming out. Looking like a defeated pair that had no reason to be involved in this except we were too loud.

I started for the stairs to leave the house. "No daddy, please don't go. You'll love mommy again." I wanted to run up to them and hug them and never let go. But I knew if

I stopped now; it would just be another day.

My wife caught me at the back door. "If you leave now you will never be back in this house again." Her voice came from down in the bowels of her stomach. She never sounded so sure of herself before.

When I turned to leave she dug her fingernails into my face and neck. Her hands moved with the speed of a lawn mower blade. I turned; I almost stuck her as hard as I could. I pushed her to the floor. It was a hard push and I heard her hit. As I stood looking down at her again I realized there were no feelings. I walked out the door.

I started my motorcycle and drove down the driveway. A lot that morning had been tough but the toughest was yet to come. As I left the drive I looked in my rear view mirror, there was my daughter running after me. Her arms were out in front of her. She was crying, and yelling, "Daddy, daddy, daddy, please come back." And even as loud as my motorcycle was I heard it. It is something I can still hear today.

Chapter 10

Months go by, a divorce is started. When I think of how it was leading up to the divorce, I guess it went fairly well. Material things were split rather evenly, according to her. As she said, "You had the chance to take whatever you wanted with you."

Which I always thought was not that much, since I was on a motorcycle. But, it was only money. The biggest loss was the kids.

I had been drinking for a while, but the divorce set me over the edge; I guess that and the depression of not seeing my children. There was many a long night. All I could think of was make it through until tomorrow, because tomorrow always held a new day. You know the song, "tomorrow, tomorrow; it's only a day away." Silly as it sounds, it's true.

So my life is rocky, to say the least. I can't control it, but I'm asked to help others, if they only knew whom they were asking.

I was working the day shift on a Sunday in June. How much could go wrong at nine a.m.? The call came in simple enough, "Man locked in his bedroom, assist the fire department." Probably another door lock about to bite the dust after the fire department puts a power ram on the doorknob. Then the power ram takes out the doorknob, along with the door and most of the door jam. The power ram is equivalent to a battering ram, gets the job done, but somewhat messy.

The caller advised they lived at 1645 Greenview, an apartment complex that did have its share of problems. But it had been quiet recently. She was in apartment 304.

I arrived along with Keith Sommers and the fire department. We took the elevator to the third floor. Sergeant Hammerstan called on the radio to ask if he was needed. He probably had some important personal business to take care of. Not that he would do personal business on company time. Right.

I rang the doorbell of apartment 304. A woman about thirty years of age answered the door. She had her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had very little make-up on and a cigarette hanging from her lip. She looked and smelled as if she was drinking all night. By the half bottle of Corona sitting on the coffee table, I could tell she had not stopped yet. She had on a pair of slacks that were faded in color by age. She wore a blouse that was silk and slightly torn on the sleeve.

When she answered the door she said, "Thanks for coming. He has done this before. He gets drunk and locks himself in our bedroom."

"Who is he?" I asked.

"My husband. He's been very moody lately. Seems like something's on his mind."

"What's your husband's name?"

"George," she answered.

"Has he ever been violent?" asked Sommers.

"No, not any more than usual."

Now what the hell did that mean? He hasn't killed me yet? "Has he ever hit you?" I asked.

"Only when we're fighting."

Again I thought, great, when you are lovey, dovey he doesn't hit you. Some red flags were starting to arise and so our alertness started to follow suit.

Firefighter Joshua Anderson asked if he could go to the bedroom door. Once there he announced who he was and asked through the door if George was okay. There was no response. He asked again turning the doorknob.

From inside the room Anderson heard, "I'm okay. Go away."

"We can't do that. Your wife called and was concerned about you. We just want you to open the door to see that you are okay, and then we'll leave." Anderson was looking back at me as he spoke. We had known each other for many years. We worked together many times.

"That bitch can't leave anything alone."

I was now thinking; maybe we hadn't received the whole story from his wife. Perhaps this was not a lovey, dovey time in their lives.

Anderson tried again, "Come on, just open up."

There was some movement we heard inside the room. Then the doorknob was being fumbled with. Then the sound of bed springs. "Come on in."

As Anderson opened the door, slowly trying to peer around the corner of it, he observed George sitting on the bed with a butcher knife clutched in his hand. "See I'm okay," George said.

Anderson never entered the room. He backed away saying to me, "He's got a knife."

I started down the hall to the bedroom. Knowing that now it was a police matter until the knife was gone. I looked into the room. I introduced myself to George, "George, I'm Tim Carver, I'm with the police department. I'm only here to make sure no one gets hurt, including you. Could you put the knife down and come out to talk to me?"

George sat on the bed with his head bowed down. When he did look up there was a distant look in his eye. I looked down the hall at his wife and asked if he had any guns? She replied that he did not; his doctor said it wouldn't be a good idea for him to possess firearms.

There was another little gem forgotten at the door. George never looked right at me. He mumbled a few words but I could not articulate them. Again I asked, "Please, put the knife down, then come out."

I don't know if he didn't hear everything I said but he did get up to come out, only he still carried the knife. The knife looked at least twelve inches long, and growing with every step.

"George, put the knife down." The tone of my voice was no longer let's make some chit chat. There was a strong feeling of command in it.

As he continued towards the door, he moved rather slowly, like he was in no hurry, I moved back. Remembering my training, it would take an average guy, when he is within twenty-one feet of you, one and a half seconds to stab you, even if I shot him. So if he was twenty-one feet away I could still get stabbed. I told Sommers to get George's wife out into the hall, out of the apartment, which he did. The fire department all fell back into the living room, then out the door to the hallway, everyone except Anderson. He stayed in the living room.

As George stepped into the narrow hallway between the bedroom and living room, he held the knife over his shoulder, in his right hand, point facing me. He had three ways to travel. Back into the bedroom, into a bathroom halfway down the hall between the bedroom and living room or straight at me in the living room.

I now was very authoritative in my voice, "Put the knife down."

He slowly walked down the hall. When he passed the bathroom, there was nowhere else for him to go. I now was standing behind a half wall between the entry and living room. But I was aware of firefighter Anderson in the living room, standing in the furthest corner from the hallway and from George.

My weapon had been drawn for a while but I had kept it at my side. Now it was pointed directly at George. "Put it down," I ordered.

I knew I would have to make a decision soon. He then took three quick steps toward me, he raised the knife completely over his head, and then he stabbed it into the wall. Four to six inches of the knife went into the wall. In two or three seconds, and the words, "I'm sorry," it was all over.

Firefighter Joshua Anderson and I walked quickly over to George. I "assisted" him by directing his movement towards the living room. How it was perfectly named, a living room. Could have been a lot worse, but I was lucky.

Once in the living room, away from the knife all the paramedics gathered around him. He was going in for a psyche exam, which he didn't know about yet. His wife stood off to the side, tears in her eyes, tissue in her left hand, and the bottle of Corona still in the right.

I called the Sergeant to advise him what had occurred, also for him to bring out the camera. We needed to take pictures of the scene, the layout of the apartment and particularly the knife in the wall.

Sergeant Hammerstan arrived right as the ambulance was leaving. He rang the doorbell and Officer Sommers opened the door. Left in the apartment was Sommers, George's wife, me, and now Hammerstan had joined us. The Sergeant walked over to the knife and asked how that happened? I told him the story of the whole incident. With George's wife standing right next to me he said, "Man, do you realize you could have popped him? Legally."

He said it with all the glory of downing a twelve-point buck. "I would have done it. What a chance." He was actually smiling and his eyes were glinting.

This was my leader. Not caring at all about the wife of the man, who I could have just "popped," was standing just two feet away. She looked at him with all the hate she could gather together. She then just looked at me, no words spoken; there wasn't any need for them.

Chapter 11

The divorce was final. It had taken about nine months. I thought it would be some large event in my life. But with knowing for so long it was nothing but a piece of paper saying you have no more ties to the person. As happy as I was, I guess, I was somewhat sad also. Finalization. Something I did work hard to make happen was truly over. Yes, it had been over for a long time but now... truly over.

I have the piece of paper in my hand and I'm off tomorrow, what to do? How about an outdoor get together. This is when you invite several people to an area outside, start a bonfire and everyone brings their own bottle. This sounded good to me.

I made a few phone calls to fellow employees and friends, and then they all brought their friends with them. All there to celebrate the end of something bad that started so good.

It was the normal conversations, mostly work sucks. But over with a group of friends of friends was this one woman. She was very attractive but also just blending in. I started to ask around about her.

Seems David Makeity the Hilton Hotel manager was asked to join us. He was a manager by day Harley motorcycle rider by night. One of the guys invited him. He had also invited several of his support staff. After meeting Makeity, I asked who the woman was. He told me she was their bartender who had the night off.

I asked, "What's her name?"

Makeity answered, "Stephanie. She's really a nice girl. Doesn't go out much but we convinced her to come out tonight."

"Is she married?"

"Why? This is sounding serious."

"Well, is she?"

"No."

"I think I'll introduce myself." I headed off to the area she was in. As I left I heard a lot of catcalls and comments about a shark visiting a school of fish.

The closer I got, the more beautiful she became. She was dressed in black boots, blue jeans, and a pink tee shirt with some writing on it that I could not see because of the Jean jacket. She had blond hair about shoulder blade length, and very pretty eyes. They were the kind of eyes that can read your mind. They could look right into your soul and steal your heart. She was about five foot nine and one hundred pounds. Who is this girl?

At first I just stood by her group. There was Keith Sommers and Clifford Russle from the police department. Sarah Beachman the assistant day manager from the Hilton was also there. A few people who I had seen before but couldn't ever remember their names, and of course, Stephanie and me.

When Sommers saw me he said, "Hey, it's the recent divorcee. How does it feel?"

Well, right then it felt embarrassing. Not quite the sophisticated way to meet a woman. With all eyes on me, and all the intellect I could come up with I stated, "Ah, it's okay."

All right, not Shakespeare, not Lennon and McCartney hell it wasn't even Hemmingway, but I did see a small smile come to her perfect lips. Hey, I still had it. But

would she see it? Whatever it was.

We stayed in the group for most of the night. But towards the end it was down to just Sommers, Stephanie and me. Sommers had been eyeing a different girl that had recently showed up.

"Hey Timmy, mind if I try for that one over there? Could I use some of your lines like, 'Ah, okay?'" Sommers asked. He laughed then headed over to another small group.

I asked Stephanie if she wanted to join them. She said she was fine with just the two of us. "I've wanted to talk with you all night," she said.

"I've never seen you before with the Hilton group."

"I don't go out a lot; I have a three year old daughter."

"Must be hard working full time and caring for your daughter. Does she go to day care?"

"Yes, she does. But it's not that bad. She's a good kid."

I could see that she beamed when she spoke of her child. She was the eminent passion in her life; nothing would get in the way of that. That is the way it should always be.

"How about you, any kids?"

"A boy and a girl. I haven't seen them for a while. It was sort of an unpleasant break up. Didn't get much but my motorcycle."

"Do you pay child support?"

"Yes, but actually it's not bad. I was giving her my whole check for quite some time, now I can keep half of it."

I noticed she kept looking at me as we talked because I kept looking at her. I almost felt I was gawking at her. It was hard to keep my eyes off of her. She was so easy to talk to. I could say anything. Not having to censor myself or be afraid of saying the wrong thing. Words just flowed, almost like I was just babbling.

I learned she lived with her daughter in a house she rented from her grandfather. It was located right in town, about three miles from where we were.

"So you are a bartender?" I asked.

"No, I am a mixologist. It seems you're a bar hanger. You know one that hangs in bars." As she spoke the whites of her teeth gleamed as a smile broke across her face.

"Only on week-ends," I said as I was also thinking, or when I'm down or lonely.

"Do you think, maybe..." but before I could finish the question we all heard a horrendous crash. It came from down on the expressway. I ran with a couple other people to the fence and looked down to the bridge over the expressway. A car had crashed into the cement footing of the bridge. It was starting to smoke.

I jumped over the fence and ran to the car. It seems I could run faster than usual. I then realized it was because I was running downhill. The alcohol made me forget that, I guess. There were no problems running, however, as I approached the highway, at quite a clip I might add, I was starting to concern myself with stopping before another car would have me for a hood ornament.

Luck was with me tonight as no other cars came along, probably due to the hour. Keith was right behind me when we got to the car.

The smoke was coming from the front end of the car. Part of the front end, however, was almost in the driver's seat. We didn't see any passengers, which was good since the cement embankment pushed the passenger seat into the back seat. I was able to get the driver's door open. I'm sure Ferrari made it so it should open easier but probably not after a crash, especially one in which you were traveling at least ninety miles per hour.

Once the door was open I tried to get the male out of the car. I asked him his name. "Fred," was his straightforward answer.

I then asked him if he remembered what had happened. "No, I was just driving when... I don't remember." He appeared to be trying to figure out what did happen, who this guy was pulling on him and why his nice white Boateng silk shirt was now red.

I helped him from the car and walked him far enough away that if the car did blow we would be safe. I laid him down on the grass medium about twenty feet from the expressway.

"You have been involved in an accident," I told him. "Your head has been cut and you are bleeding."

"Did you get my keys?" With everything going on that's your concern I thought. Well maybe he wasn't completely all there yet.

He also continuously went to wipe the blood away from his nose. He did have considerable amount of blood coming down from his forehead and nose area. "I just want to get this out of my face," he said referring to the blood.

"Just trust me, you don't want to wipe your nose," I said slightly shaking my head as I talked. What he didn't know was every time he wiped across his nose, the skin of his nose and part of his lip came off his face.

The paramedics were arriving along with the State Police as I told Fred one last time keep his hands to his side. I assisted him in getting them off his face. "I'm going to go, you take care."

"One last thing, you have my keys?" There was a loud explosion and the car was no more.

"No Fred, I don't."

I looked over at Keith and motioned it was time to beat feet before too many questions were asked about how we arrived here, what were we doing, had you been drinking? Questions better left unanswered.

So as everyone was either keeping Fred's face on or putting out his destroyed vehicle, we slipped away, back up the hill.

David Makeity the Hilton manager was one of the few people left. I asked him where Stephanie went. "She had to get home to her kid and the baby sitter," Makeity replied, "Why you missing something?"

"No, just wondered," I replied. But I was thinking, yeah I was missing something...her.
Chapter 12

It had been three days since the party and I had not seen or spoke with Stephanie. I had stopped by the Hilton looking for her but she was never working when I was there. I drove past her house several times but never saw her outside.

Finally I decided it was time to assert my authority. So the next time I passed her house I placed a warning ticket for avoiding me on her car. I hoped she would see the humor in it. You know, wouldn't cost her anything, maybe just a little time at dinner.

The next day I received a call on my voice mail at work. It was Stephanie. She wanted to know what bail would be for such a crime and if I felt she needed an attorney. Well I knew I couldn't take any money and I normally dislike attorneys, so my answer would be I'd let her go on a signature bond and forget the attorney.

She had left me her home phone number, which I already had through police and city files. But I wanted to wait until she gave it to me.

I gave her a call and asked why she hadn't been around, hoping not to sound too much like a stalker. She explained her daughter, Christine, was sick and home from school.

After some small talk she asked if I wanted to come over. "Sure, when?" I asked.

"Whenever you want," she responded.

"I'll be on the street in a few minutes, I could stop by for a couple of minutes, if that's Okay?"

"Sure, Christine went back to school today and will be coming home by then."

Now did this mean she didn't want to be with me alone or was I reading too much into it? "See you then," I said.

Isn't it funny how some days a little thing like a phone call can completely change your day around? Not that I was having a terrible day, just one that I did not want to do over, like right away. But now, my day was getting better. My mom use to say, "Just wait, something good will come every day, if you believe it will."

Stephanie's house was a nice ranch house with a large back yard. It was in an older section of town but had been kept up very well. The trim had a fresh coat of paint on it and the front porch was recently done also.

When I pulled onto the driveway her car was parked in front of the garage. As it turns out the garage had become a storage area as time went on. I exited my squad and walked up to the rear door and I rang the doorbell. I heard a voice yelling from the inside, "Don't open the door." It sounded like Stephanie's voice.

Not five seconds later the door opened and there stood a beautiful young girl. She was wearing shorts and a tee shirt with the saying, "Grandma spoils me" on it. "Hi," she said.

"Hi back at you," I said. "Is your mother home?" I know this is wrong but the first thing that popped into my mind was the quickest way to the mother's heart is through her daughter. This little girl and I were about to become best friends.

From across the kitchen I heard Stephanie saying, "I thought I told you not to open the door?" She was saying it with a smile on her face, but using that motherish voice that said you may not be in trouble right now but when he leaves.

"But he's a policeman mommy."

"I am," I said, sticking up for my new best friend and pointing to my badge. "We are the good guys."

"Yes, but she has to learn what she sees is not always what she is looking at."

"But mommy isn't he the one you were telling Aunt Violet about?"

"You were telling Aunt Violet about me?" Hmm, this might be better than I thought. Stephanie finally looked up at me after she stalled for as long as she could. I noticed her face a pretty shade of red. "What did you say to Aunt Vi?"

"Mommy said..." started Christine.

"Christine, do you want to have some ice cream?"

I knew I would like this little girl. But, it seems, mommy is teaching her too much about censorship. "You know Stephanie; experts would say you should develop your child's openness and honesty instead of impeding it. If she has something to bring to the conversation, shouldn't she be offered the opportunity?" I was now laughing under my breath watching Stephanie squirm just a little.

The look I was now receiving had gone away from embarrassed to "you can shut up now." Since I have had classes on reading body language, I knew it had become time to shut up. I gave Stephanie my sweetest smile and batted my baby blues at her. "I see your point Stephanie. Christine, want some ice cream?"

Stephanie laughed out loud, "You really know how to do a one-eighty."

She continued to laugh to herself as she put Christine's ice cream in a bowl. "Would you like some?" she asked me with a scoop on the spoon.

"I'm afraid I'll have to pass. I have to get back out. How about a rain check?" I waited for my answer.

"What time do you get off? Christine goes to bed at nine."

"I'm off at eleven."

"Could you stop by then?"

"Sure, want me to bring anything?" I was hoping for an answer like some champagne for a celebration or a good movie, like Ghost or Romeo and Juliet, quiet and romantic.

"No, just be sure to come back if I'm waiting up for you."

"No worries, I'll be here if I have to drag myself through a mile of dung." Oh Timmy, that sounds so romantic. Note to self; take a lesson from Stephanie, censor yourself.

Chapter 13

It was the start of yet another midnight shift. The August air had been relatively cool in the evenings. We were still in our short sleeve shirts so I was a bit cold. You have to remember though; if it's under eighty degrees it's too cold. So I walked out to the squad car at a brisk pace to be able to turn on the heat to warm up a little.

Driving around with the heat on and window down was typical for me. I always wanted to hear what was going on outside of my car.

I stopped into the seven-eleven to pick up my Diet Coke. I talked for a few minutes with the clerk, Dave. He was in his upper thirties or early forties had long black hair, some might call him hippyish. He had a country/rock band that played some fairly big gigs throughout the summer. Since I've always liked music it was easy to talk to him. Sometimes you just hit it off with someone. That was Dave and I.

We'd talk of some of his old concerts and some of the big names he opened for. There was Toby Keith, Big n Rich, even Willie Nelson. He had some good back stage and trailer stories. Were they all true? Well, probably more like semi-true stories.

He was in the middle of one story, something about Hank Williams Jr., a convertible, and lots of booze when I heard a call go out to another car of the sound of a female screaming. Dave was use to these interruptions. He always said that we could waste time with the best of them, but when it was time to leave for a call, we were gone.

The call came in as somewhere in the seven hundred block of West Division Street. I heard Mike Mansolini was coming from East Division Street so I decided to come in from the twelve hundred block of West Division. We would be coming from both ways then.

I drove like a bat out of hell until I got close to the seven hundred block then I drove at a crawl. I didn't want to roar by whatever was going on. Driving slowly, windows open, listening for any sound. I stopped and exited my car. No sounds at all accept an old hoot owl.

Behind the houses on the north side of the street was a golf course. Mansolini drove up. "Hear anything?" he asked.

"No. I'm going to walk some of the golf course," I said already starting to walk in-between houses.

Mansolini yelled over, "I'm gonna drive back around to the pro shop area"

I just waved at him to indicate okay. I walked rather slow listening as hard as I could. Damn, it was times like this I wish I didn't listen to music so loud. I'm sure some of my hearing was gone.

I radioed in to dispatch, "Any better location? Who called this in?"

Cindy, the radio dispatcher for tonight, said the call was blocked. "I'm trying other ways to ascertain who called and from where."

"Did the caller give you any other information?"

"No."

The moon was full so the golf course was lit up nicely with its light. But there were a lot of trees and bushes on it. I was straining my eyes I was trying to see through the trees but without any luck.

There have been certain times I had wondered why I was a police officer before; this was turning into one of them. You know, like when you get a call "man is firing a gun" your brain tells you run the other way, but you run towards him. Not right, but it is what I do.

Here I was, realizing now how alone I was walking through a golf course with my back up God knows how far away. Not knowing what I'm walking into but I keep walking. Probably just some kids I thought.

Then I heard it. Soft, mumbled, what was it? A soft whimper, which was coming from just behind the bush. My gun was now out as I crept up on the bush. Why did these trees have to be right here darkening the area?

When I looked past the bush I saw a girl, maybe fourteen, her blond hair was tangled every which way. She had on no shoes and no top. Her skirt was pulled down to her knees. She had not heard me walk up.

Before I turned on my Kel-lite flashlight I whispered to her, "Are you all right?"

Her head snapped towards me along with a scream that pierced the night. I turned on my flashlight pointing it at my uniform, my face, just at myself. She did not stop screaming. I radioed I had located the victim. "It appears she been attacked." They could hear her in the background.

"Are you okay?" radioed Mansolini. "Do you see an offender? Do you have a description?"

"No. She won't... she can't talk to me." I have always been good with handling kids.

They usually trusted me. I had never been around one like this. "It's all right, I'm a police officer."

She would only scream and try to slide away from me. I made no attempt to get any closer to her. I knew I should be asking her questions or at least trying to. But I felt so sorry for her. What had she been through that made her so frightened? I could only imagine.

I called for the fire department and paramedics. I just stood by her trying to give her the feeling of being safe. Then she yelled, "I've been raped."

I called that in immediately. I tried to comfort her as she had stopped screaming. Once I tried to bend down next to her, again she slid further away and almost started screaming.

"Try to relax. You are safe now. The paramedics are on their way. They will take you to the hospital and they will be able to help you. I'm sorry this happened to you, I know how you feel." I was talking very slow and quietly. With a voice to reassure her she was in fact safe. For I knew no more harm would come to her this evening.

After the paramedics arrived the "on call" detective was on the scene. The only person this terrified little girl would talk to was the female paramedic. She did not even want to look at a man.

She was placed in the ambulance along with the detective and taken to the hospital. I watched as the ambulance started to move across the fifth fairway. Tomorrow people will be enjoying a round of golf with no idea what a terrible hell this was for a small girl tonight.

I searched the area for any type of clue for the next two hours. Nothing. I was hoping against hope I could find something to nail the bastard that could cause so much harm to someone. If I could only run into him right now he might not see the light of day.

Knowing I wouldn't do anything to him and that my chances of seeing him were zero, I packed up for awhile. I'd be back at daybreak. Maybe there would be a clue I could find in the sun.

I went back but no luck. I had talked to the detective and at this time there was very little information on the offender. Not much more than a male and that he was white. That didn't narrow the search down much. I didn't want to think someone might get away with this crime. I remembered that as I wrote my report, there's not much in the way of evidence to write about but put it all down maybe something I am over looking will help. It took me almost the rest of the night to finish.

Just before the end of the shift I stopped back at seven-eleven. Dave was also getting ready to turn the business over to the day shift. I asked Dave, "How old is your girl?"

"Thirteen," he answered. "Why?"

"Give her a hug when you get home, that's all." He would find out why soon enough when the newspapers would tell the story.

Chapter 14

When I came into work I had a message to call or stop over at Jeffrey Motter's house. He was supposed to be working and when I asked why he wasn't there I didn't get any straight answers.

I decided to drive to his parent's house where he lived. I pulled into the driveway, waved to the neighbor as I walked up to his garage. Jeffery met me at the side door of his garage. He had a nice set up. He had a four-car garage, which housed his car, a 1965 Corvette Stingray, a Ford van that he used for his electrical business, a four-wheeler, a three-wheeler and a snowmobile stored there. He had all the toys. He also had an upstairs to the garage where he had a small living quarters. He had his bed, a couch that was under the window overlooking the street. A forty-inch Sony television hooked up to all the latest games which was directly across from the couch. A VCR and other video games he bought used from bars. This was more of a play area than his sleeping area. He would sometimes say if he were working late that he would crash out here.

There was an area for his business. An old wooden chair on wheels, something out of a nineteen forties novel, sat in front of a desk. The desk was oak wood that had seen better days. Numerous scratches and carvings were in the wood. A pile of papers lay on top of it. Some papers were in the tray marked in and some were in the tray marked out and some were just scattered on top. To the side of the desk was a modern computer table, with a Dell computer, monitor and printer on it. He had three older file cabinets to one side, holding all his work information. There was also a safe, which he said held very little money but some very important papers.

As we walked into the room I noticed he had some Penthouse magazines lying out on a table. "Hey," I said as I helped myself to a can of Diet Coke from his mini-fridge, "are you not afraid your mom will see these magazines?"

"I'm twenty years old now; she can't say anything to me. Besides, she came up here once and I yelled at her to stay out. She has never tried to come back up," he said as he looked out his front window. "I just want to see if anyone from the department followed you here."

"Why? What's up? Why are you not working today?"

"Aw, it's the Chief. He said he received a complaint about me not doing my job. What an asshole. What did you hear at work?"

"Nothing. They said you called and I came over."

I took a drink of my soda. "Did you do anything wrong that you know of?" I asked.

"No. I was at the school as I am every day watching for the illegally parked cars. That was my assignment. Then I did my other duties," he explained.

"What are you going to do?" referring to the Chief's complaint.

He looked out the window again, "I think I'm just going to quit. I make five times more pay being an electrician. I don't need the hassles I have at the police department. Besides I could make even more going full time. I've seen some condos down in Florida that I want to buy."

He did have a profitable gig as a electrical contractor. He learned the trade as a teenager and started his own business as soon as he could. He had the gift of gab and people trusted him. He also did good work and word of mouth helped him continue to get jobs.

"Hey, there's Sammy Bowlinger." Jeffrey knocked on the window and motioned Sammy up. He then turned looked at me; he had an ear-to-ear smile. He went over to the stairs and called out, "Come on up. Police officer Carver is here."

Sammy came up the stairs looked at me then Jeffrey. He was wearing typical ten years old clothes. Nike shoes dark blue shorts, and a tee shirt with a Bevis and Butthead cartoon. It read, "Look at those." It showed a picture of Bevis and Butthead looking through a wood fence at three naked girls. I thought perhaps a little much for a ten-year-old, but then again, maybe not.

I asked Sammy where he got the nifty shoes. "From Jeffrey, he gets me a lot of things. He says my parents should buy them for me but since they don't, he does." Sammy kept looking at me as he spoke. "Is that your police car outside?"

"Yes it is. Do you want to see the inside of it?"

"Sure." Sammy was already running down the stairs and out the door before I could get turned around and moving towards the stairs. By the time I was walking towards the car on the driveway Sammy had been around the car twice.

"Policemen are great. Like Jeffrey." He said peering into the passenger side front window. "Your car is different than Jeffrey's. You have a shot gun."

I opened the doors so he could look at the radios, radar gun, and I showed him how the overhead lights worked. When he reached for the shotgun I told him he could not touch that. That it was dangerous.

Sammy asked if he could go for a ride. I told him I was sorry but not this time. It was policy no one could ride in the car with you unless the supervisor approved it.

"How late can you stay out?" Jeffrey asked Sammy.

"About an hour."

"Want to play some video games?"

"Yeah."

"Well I guess I'll go," I said. They both said goodbye and started to walk back into the garage. I started up my car and started to back out onto the street. Just before pulling away I looked up at the window. I noticed Jeffrey looking out. Then the blinds closed.

Chapter 15

I was sitting in my backyard on the pool deck waiting for friends and family for our annual pool party with a cocktail in hand. I can hardly believe four years have gone by since I first met Stephanie. We already had one son and another baby was on its way. Stephanie can really put on a party. She's flying all around the yard and house everything must be just right. As for me people coming over will just make a mess so why bother. Guess that's the difference in men and women.

First to arrive is Keith Sommers; he has his hands full. He is carrying the normal case of beer, some different kinds of chips, and four CD's, all for your drinking, eating, and listening pleasure. "Timmy, you have to listen to this guy, I think you'll like his music, his name is Jimmy Buffett."

"I'll throw them on now," I said. I put them in the changer and got my first lesson on how I wanted to live. "Keith, what do you say, me and you on a beach?"

"As long as Stephanie can come to cook." He loved her cooking and he always told me she would make me fat. "Who all did you invite?"

"Well some family, some friends, and some work people," I said knowing he would not like everyone that was coming, mainly the Deputy Chief.

"Who did you ask from work?" he asked.

"You know the regular posse, and Deputy Chief Sanchez." I knew he would not like the fact the Deputy Chief was coming but he was standing in the area when I invited others. Phillip Sanchez never worked a shift in his life it seemed. He went right from out of the police academy to detectives, to Sergeant, to Deputy Chief. Talk about the golden spoon up your ass.

"Oh, come on. You're kidding?" It wasn't people really hated him, or was it? It was more that you could never relax, be yourself around him. He would be laughing with you one moment then writing down what you said about so and so the next and tell that person what you said.

"Who knows," I said, "maybe he'll do something really stupid."

By this time with the music playing, Keith and I had popped a few tops, and things were going nice. "Having a good time?" Stephanie asked.

Well I was, but due to the tone of her voice I knew it was coming to an end, and soon. "Just waiting for my next job you will be giving me," I said with a big shit-eating grin on my face.

"It's all right, just making sure the coolers stay full."

"You have a great girl there." Keith said as we watched her walk back into the house.

"I know, she's starting a new job next week, she is being hired as a nurse's aide. She wants to be a flight attendant, but is afraid to fly. Do you see a problem there?" I asked Keith. We were now both laughing.

"What's so funny?" Stephanie asked. The laughing stopped. Keith and I looked at each other then busted out laughing again. "Never mind," she said.

As the night wore on several more people kept coming in. Jeffrey Motter showed up. Stephanie and I got him alone in the kitchen to ask him an important question. "Jeff, we've both talked this over," I said, "and we would like you to be our new baby's God-father."

"I can't believe it. Really? I've never had such an honor. Certainly I will." Jeff was beaming with pride. He had become very close to us and we did a lot for each other. To me it seemed like the right thing to do. I felt he would always look out for the baby's well being and keep our baby from harm.

Later Clifford Russle, who was sitting with Keith and me, said, "Hey, here comes the new guy." Climbing up onto the pool deck was Evan Tonka. He had just started five weeks earlier. Unfortunately, he had not a clue what he was about to get himself into. "Hey Evan, over here," said Clifford, or would it be better to say the spider to the fly. "Did you ever wrestle in school?"

Evan replied, "Some."

Ever pool wrestle?" Clifford asked.

"I can't say that I have."

"Let's go."

Stephanie and her sister were watching this all take place. "There is too much testosterone seeping out right now. I've seen it before with these guys."

Into the pool they went with a splash. Moves like you never had seen before, until the thumb of Evan went into a position I'm sure it never was in before. After the initial, "Ouch," out asserted the macho, "I'm all right."

Stephanie looked at it. Shaking her head she said, "Broken."

"Just stings. Got another beer?" Evan asked.

"Hey Timmy, your dog must be hungry." Keith told me. I turned to look at my dog Sheba. She was one of those dogs with the bad habit of eating her poop. Of course, I felt it was just another form of recycling.

Just then Deputy Chief Sanchez came out of the house. He saw Sheba running around people seated at tables. Since no one was with him she became a focus for him. "Here girl, come here." He called to her. Did I say she was a very loving dog? She ran right up to him and proceeded to lick his face all over. It was particularly nice when he stuck out his tongue. "Timmy your dog loves me."

"You and eating shit," whispered Keith. "You were right to invite him Timmy. This will be the best story of the night," as we both smiled, started to chuckle, then ended up rolling on the deck with laughter.

A couple more guys working the late shift showed up stating they had a shity night. "So did Sanchez," said Keith. The laughter started all over again, as "Wasted away again in Margaritaville" played in the background.

Chapter 16

Jeffrey Motter was doing quite well for himself. He was always busy with his electrical contracting business. In all probability he was making lots of money as he had purchased three condominiums in Florida. He had asked me if my family and I wanted to go down for a visit, to show us his new places.

With Stephanie in the last stages of her pregnancy we took a rain check. "Open invite," he would say.

Jeff was also helping out Sammy Bowlinger. Sammy was now eleven and had known Jeff for three or four years. Sammy would complain that he never had money so Jeff offered him a job working with him. Jeff would often say that was how he started.

He paid Sammy very well, more than would be expected. Jeff would say it's cheaper than actually hiring someone and paying taxes and insurance on him.

Sammy worked every other weekend. His parents didn't like him working that much, but Sammy liked the money.

One bright Saturday, around 10:00 a.m., I stopped by at Jeff's place. I knew he was home because his work truck was on the driveway.

I went to the door of his office. I tried to open it. It was locked. I rang the bell and waited a few minutes. Still there was no answer. Maybe he was in his parent's house.

I rang their doorbell and his mother came to the door within a few seconds. She was probably in her fifties and looked like someone out of a nineteen forties novel. Her hair was drawn back into a bun with not much makeup on her face, if any. She was a slight woman, never raising her voice or troubled by much. She seemed intelligent, although she seemed to miss many things going on around her. I was never sure if this was on purpose or she legitimately didn't understand things.

"Good morning Mrs. Motter. Is Jeffrey home?" I asked.

"Why, he should be in his office. I know he said he had some paperwork that had to get done. Did you ring the bell?" She seemed somewhat upset that she could not help me more. But that was just the way she was, she couldn't help you more.

"I did ring the bell. Maybe I just didn't wait long enough for him to get to the door. I'll try again."

"Jeff told me he asked you and your wife to go to Florida with him. His places are so nice down there. He said he's going to buy one for me and his father, for our very own." You could tell by the look on her face it was a proud parent talking about her child.

"Yeah. We can't go now with the baby on the way and all, but we'll get there some time. I'll see you later Mrs. Motter."

"Bye," she said as she closed the door.

I walked back to the office door. One more try then I would have to get back to work. I rang the bell. I then heard footsteps running down the stairs from the office area.

Sammy answered the door. He was wearing only shorts. "Hello officer Timmy," I was just changing to my work clothes. Jeffrey and I are gonna be going out soon," Sammy said.

He let me in then ran back upstairs. I followed, but at a much slower pace. The more stairs you walked the hotter it got. It must have been eighty degrees upstairs.

A video game was playing and Sammy ran right over and started to play the game. He was sitting crossed legged on the bed. From the bathroom I heard Jeff yell, "No cheating out there."

Jeff came out of the bathroom wearing his work clothes. He had his mother sew shirts for him with the name Motter Electric on the pockets. She had done a nice job with the printing. "What brings you out?" he asked me as he walked over and pushed Sammy down onto the bed.

"Hey," Sammy yelled. "I'm about to beat you."

"I know. That's why I'm going to bother you."

Sometimes Jeff was more like a kid than kids themselves.

"Doesn't seem fair to me," I said to Sammy.

"It's not," was his reply, never taking his eyes off of the game. "I just don't like to lose."

"I just stopped by. No reason," I answered Jeff. "I talked to your mom. She said you were going to buy her and your dad a place down south."

"Yes. I've found a great place. Three bedrooms, two baths, and like all the rest, right on the ocean. It has a great view. My business is really starting to take off. Would like something to drink?"

"No thanks. I have to go."

"Sammy and I are just going to hang around here today. You know, take a day off."

"I thought you guys were just going to work?" I questioned.

"We were, but why work when you can play. The work will wait," Jeffrey answered.

Chapter 17

Two weeks on the day shift and no hot calls. Mostly it has just been traffic stops and loose dogs. The weather had been nice though, mid eighties, sunny, slight breeze. I was driving around with the window open getting my trucker's tan. Stephanie often said that if the rest of my body were as tan as my left arm, my tan would be perfect.

I stopped to do some stationary patrol in the parking lot of an apartment complex. The Duncan Apartments on Duncan Avenue was a fairly quiet neighborhood. They would have their occasional flair up but all in all a good place.

There were five seven-story buildings. They had all been newly painted and the walkways had been replaced with new cement. The pool was by looks at capacity. You could hear the happy yelling of the children. Of course there was the lifeguard's whistle going off every now and then. And the sound of a boy saying, "She pushed me first." Ah, the old retaliatory catch. You know like in hockey where the defensive player has just laid you out with a shove into the boards and a stick to the face, and you get up push him back. The whistle goes off and you're in the penalty box. This was probably the same injustice going on here. Poor kid.

There were grounds people mowing the lawn and weeding the flowers. They had several flowerbeds. Very well designed and located where the most amount of foot traffic would see them. Some residents were walking on the walking trail that led around the lake and into the four-acre forest preserve. The lake had several tree branches eight to ten inches wide lying in the water near the shore. Every now and then a fish would break the water.

Some of the kids had built forts in the woods. The police would make checks on these forts to make sure no drug activity was going on there. The apartment management also made checks and every now and then would have their maintenance people tear them down. I thought by having them it gave the kids a place to hang out and you knew where to find them. Only when the gang signs showed up should they be torn down.

A small boy was standing near the lake with his father; he must have caught a fish by his yelling and pulling of his fishing rod. His father helped him get it out. The proud boy held it up for a picture then released it. He looked to be around eight or nine years old, how wonderful to be of an age that there are really no worries.

There were some older kids, paired off in couples boy and girl, walking side by side. Some holding hands some just standing and talking. You could hear the birds singing and chirping from the trees. There were families sitting at the picnic tables and cooking out on the fire pits. There were blankets on the ground with some people talking and some people tanning. Over by the trees was a man with a camera with a huge lens taking pictures of the birds.

The basketball courts were in play with two teams going for the championship. The parking lot was doubling as an auto shop as several men and one woman were working on their cars.

I pulled my police car to a far corner of the parking lot. I didn't want to get too close to hinder anyone from having a good time and I could view most of this end of the complex. Sometimes mere police presence made people jumpy while it made others feel safe. I backed my car into a parking space and munched on my lunch while looking out at the lake and woods.

A group of boys, ages from seven to ten, came up to the police car. I put my sandwich down and got out of the car to talk with them. After a little talk of what they were doing on the playground, the seven-year-old Shawn said, "Should we tell him?" The ten-year-old Axel slapped him on the head.

"Hey, what's that about?" I said, "You can talk to me, I'm with the good guys."

Shawn said, "There is a man that gives us treats and money if we go into the woods with him."

I asked, "What do you do in the woods?"

"Sometimes he takes all his clothes off and puts the candy and money on his body and tells us we can keep whatever we take off him."

"I've never done that," said Axel, "I've only watched him."

"Has he ever tried to touch any of you?" I asked.

"No. Sometimes he puts the money really close to his... you know...thing."

"Have you guys told your parents about this?"

"No," they all said together.

"Shawn said, "My dad would kill me. He'd never let me go into the woods again."

"I don't think he would hurt or even yell at you. He would only want you to be safe. This man is bad and he should not be doing these things."

I called out on my radio my location and that I was taking a report of an exposure. I started to get a description of the male involved, about six foot two or three, a few inches taller than me. He was very heavy, as Shawn put it, "The fattest man he ever saw." He had short, balding hair, light in color, no facial hair. He usually wore shorts and sandals.

"Is there anything else that if I looked at this man would make me know it would be him?" I asked.

Shawn said, "He has a very small thing for such a fat man." This made everyone laugh, including me. As I started to get the boys names and addresses Axel said, "There he is."

"Who?" I asked.

"The fat man."

I looked over to the path coming from the woods and there walked the suspect. He had not seen the boys or me yet. I told the boys to go over to the pool area. I called out on the radio I had a suspect of the exposure in sight. I then started his way.

He first saw the boys running towards the pool. He called to them once. He then saw me. He turned and started to run back into the woods. I chased behind him.

I heard on the police radio a bunch of traffic about my exact location. I knew I was in the woods, but just precisely where in the woods, I didn't know. I replied to the approaching cars, "I went into the woods by my car."

Once in the woods I started to gain on him. As I caught up to him he looked even bigger than they described. "Stop or I'll shoot," I shouted. Of course I never even had my gun out of its holster.

I'm not sure if it was the words or if he just got tired but he began to slow down.

When this mountain of a man turned towards me my mind was saying, "Oh shit." I stood in front of him and told him he was under arrest.

"I'm sorry. I never hurt any of the kids." He blurted out.

I had him put his arms behind his back to handcuff them. Problem was he could not get his arms behind his back. His body was too big. So I cuffed him in front. I walked him out of the woods. As I tried to get him into my back seat of the police car he was too large. We are taught never to take the handcuffs off of anyone as they can use the handcuffs as a weapon against you. But in this case, I had no choice. I took the handcuffs off and left them off during the ride to the station. But I did have another police car follow me.

I had another officer gather the information from the boys by the pool. I asked them to come to the police department to positively identify the suspect.

Shawn arrived with his father, Joseph MacIntire. They stood in a room with one-way glass. His father was very upset. He wanted to get at the suspect anyway he could. As he left the room he noticed an officer walking out of the suspect's room. He pushed his way inside and got in two blows before anyone could stop him.

"Mr. MacIntire, stop it. Get off him." I called out. "Get him out of here." The other officer took him into another room.

"I want him arrested," said the suspect.

"I should have let him have you." I said back. "After what you did with his son..."

I knew I had to stop talking so no lawsuits would be coming my way. I wish I could have let him go, but that could not happen.

After the victims and their families left the department, we had all the identification that we needed. I went into the interrogation room and told the suspect he was under arrest for exposing himself to children. I then read him his Miranda rights. He stated he understood. I already had his basic information, like age thirty-two, address, phone number, and name. His name was Richard Morris. I asked him if I could call him Rich. He said that's his name.

"Did you only do this to this group of boys?" I asked.

"There was never anyone else. And besides, they wanted me to do it so they could make money their parents wouldn't give them," he answered with a tone of sarcasm.

"What is it that you would do so they could make money?"

"I would give them candy. They always asked me for the money."

"Did they touch you?"

"Sometimes we'd play a game that if they would find where on my body I would hide the candy they could keep it."

"Then if they found it, they would pick it off you?"

"Yeah, sort of. But remember they wanted to play."

"I understand. I'm just trying to get your side of it. How would they let you know they wanted the money and candy?"

"They would ask me to lie down and they would go into my pockets for the candy."

"Oh, your pockets? I thought sometimes you didn't have a shirt on. So that would mean they went into your pant's pockets?"

"Sometimes."

"Some of the kids said there were times when you were totally naked. Is this true?"

"That only happened when they asked me to get undressed. I didn't want to."

"Do you know how old these kids are?"

He didn't answer right away this time. This time he thought it through. "I'm not sure, around seventeen, I'm guessing."

"Certainly you can tell the difference between eight and seventeen, right Rich?"

"I guess." His voice turned soft, somewhat defeated.

"You know you were wrong, don't you?"

"Yes. But they seemed to be having fun and so was I. Probably at different levels, but I meant no harm. I'm sorry I got them involved."

More like you're sorry you got caught, I thought. "You do see the trauma you can cause them, don't you?"

"Not really. They laughed and had fun. They liked looking at my body."

I felt I had enough evidence. "Why would they like that? You hurt them and manipulated them. You are nothing but a pervert."

"I did nothing wrong. No one was hurt."

"That's why I'm taking you off the street. You honestly believe what you did was okay. You're a sick son of a bitch."

I then received a page over the intercom that Richard's parents were up in the lobby. They were here to bail him out. I walked up to meet with them.

"Is our baby okay?" said his mother.

"He's fine. He is being charged with exposing himself to children," I told both of them.

"Can we take him home now?" his father asked.

"Do you understand what I just said?"

"We will talk to him about it, not you. I'm sure the kids played some kind of trick on him."

"He's a pervert." I said, the irritation flowing from my lips.

"Don't you dare say something like that," his mother said. "Can he go now?"

"Soon as you post his bail." I said.

Watching the three of them leave the police department I had to say to myself, "I don't think the apple fell too far from the tree."

Chapter 18

Everyone seemed in a hurry, as we got ready to drive to the church for Tony's baptism. For Godparents we chose Sue, Stephanie's sister-in-law, and Jeffrey Motter. They both were quite anxious to be his sponsors.

Jeff drove with us to the church. During the ride he told us how his parents never did anything with him as a family and was happy we allowed him into our family.

Tony was baptized in the Living Jesus Lutheran Church with Pastor Michael Bemmis presiding. Pastor Michael has known me since he confirmed me many years ago. He baptized all my children and to have him baptize our last child was truly an honor for us.

We met in the office area of the church before the ceremony. This would normally have been done before this time but schedules just were not working with us.

"Very good to see you again Timmy," said Pastor Michael.

"Great to be here," I said as I introduced the godparents to him. "Pastor Michael, this is Stephanie's sister-in-law Sue and this is one of my best friends, Jeffrey Motter.

"Well Sue and Jeffrey, you both know the importance of being Tony's godparents and sponsors correct?"

They both answered that they did understand. "Have you Sue accepted Jesus Christ as your savior?"

"Yes," Sue replied.

"And you Jeffrey, have you accepted Jesus Christ as your savior?"

"I have." Jeffrey answered.

"One of the things you will be required to do, in the event something happens to Stephanie and Timmy, is to make sure Tony is brought up with religion in his life. You are also stating you will make sure no harm will come to him, when he is under your supervision," Pastor Michael advised them.

After about thirty more minutes of questions and answers, we were ready for the baptism service. We walked into the church from the office. The church was a beautiful, old, neighborhood church. Looking around at the stained glass windows with the sun shining through, the old oak pews and the booming organ music just sent a chill through me. Not in a bad way, but as if I could speak right to God as if He was sitting next to me. Yes, I know he was but this was something special.

Sue was a great girl, very religious, which I thought would make up for Jeffrey's lack of religion. But where he is deficient in that aspect he was a well rounded, inspiring entrepreneur that certainly could help if anything ever did happen to Stephanie and me. I was grateful to have both of them. Tony would have a well-formed upbringing if anything did happen to us.

Jeffrey held Tony as Pastor Michael anointed Tony in the baptism. Tony only whimpered for a very short time. It seemed he already trusted Jeffrey. It was a great day.

We left the church and headed back to our house. We were offering a pasta dinner for all that attended the service. It would be a small group, and everyone seemed like family. We certainly were blessed to have such decent friends.

The dinner was perfect, as always, that Stephanie was cooking. She put a lot of thought into it. What flavors would go best with different foods. The salad, which had the right amount of sweetness with the right amount of bitter kale, was constantly a favorite. The bread that you smelled baking a long time before you actually had the chance to taste it.

Stephanie had to think about what foods for each person too. Some of us liked red meat, some only ate fowl, and some were vegetarians. She put it all together and it came out spectacularly. As we sat down for the feast that was in front of us Stephanie said a small prayer. I then raised my glass for a toast to Tony. It could not get much better than this, friends and family had become one.

Chapter 19

Jeffrey was always a wonderful godfather to Tony. He never forgot a birthday or any special occasion. As the first few years progressed he would purchase Tony anything he needed. If we could not afford it he would come through. He never asked for anything in return.

His business was taking off like gangbusters. He worked seven days a week. Whenever he could he would have Sammy Bowlinger helping him out. Sammy would say he wanted to be an electrician so he could make a lot of money. Which for a child, he was making more than some adults were making at fast food restaurants

Jeffrey said he would always have a job available for my two boys, Douglas and Tony when they were old enough.

As I was leaving work one Saturday after the seven to three shift, I stopped by Jeff's house. He was in the yard playing with his yellow Labrador retriever. Sammy was over and came running up when he saw it was me. "Officer Timmy, Jeffrey is taking me to Disney World and we are going to stay at his place on the ocean," Sammy said all smiles.

"That's sounds great. Who else is going with you?"

"Just us. My parents can't go now, but they will go another time." Sammy was walking next to me keeping an eye on Jeffrey and his dog, Yeller.

"What are you guys talking about?" Jeffery asked as he walked up, his eyes on Sammy then looking up at me. A smile was on his lips, but not in his eye. Sammy made what seemed to be a hesitation move, somewhat of a stutter step, and then started to laugh. He went up to Jeffrey and grabbed Yeller's toy and threw it. Yeller barked and ran after it, retrieved it, and returned with it.

"Will Goofy be as much fun?" asked Sammy.

"Even more," said Jeff. "We'll get up early and stay up late. Just so we get to see it all."

"What's it like at your condo?" Sammy asked with all the wonderment only a child can have.

"We'll be right on the ocean. We can go searching for seashells. Then go out into the water to body surf in the waves. They have soda and ice cream right on the beach. The only rule will be no walking through the condo with a dripping bathing suit," warned Jeff.

"Don't worry, mom said I better be good or you wouldn't take me again."

"Oh, you'll be just fine. You're a good boy. I know you'll be good."

"How long you staying for?" I asked with a little jealousy in my thoughts.

"His parents said a couple of days but that's hardly worth it. We'll stay maybe a week," Jeff said.

"Aren't you afraid they'll get mad?"

"Who cares? Once I'm there they'll have no control. When we get back I'll have gifts, their son will be happy, and everything back to normal."

Not the way I'd want to get along with people but that's just me. Besides, he is probably just talking. He was just trying to be a big shot in front of Sammy. "Well you guys have fun. I'll be thinking of you." It sure would be nice to get away but...

I guess I'll have to wait for vacation. Boy, this sucks.

Chapter 20

Sometimes I live for police work. Sometimes I hate it. While most fathers can be home with their children on their birthdays, here I am working three to eleven while the party gets started at one. At least I'm there for the start of it. I get to see everyone arrive, thank them for coming, kiss Stephanie good-bye, and go to work.

Since I change into my uniform at work I'm in my regular clothes. I help Stephanie put out the appetizers and the ice coolers with soda and beer. I keep asking if there's anything else to do. This is because Stephanie is the party thrower. If it were left to me we would have chips and beer. Everyone else, fend for yourself. Of course she has about twenty things for me to do.

The guests start arriving for Tony's seventh birthday. There are grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends of ours. Many of the friends have known Tony since birth. The one Tony hangs around with a lot is Jeffrey. Probably the size of the box he has brought as Tony's present has a lot to do with that. It's the size of a small car. Plus Tony knows Jeff, being the Godfather, always gave good presents.

I was speaking with Jeff for a while when he asked, "When are you guys coming back to Florida?"

"I'm not sure."

"I'm thinking of going in maybe two or three weeks."

"I'm certain I can't get off on such short notice."

"Well, just a thought."

It was at this time Tony jumped up onto my lap and asked if he could open Jeff's present. I told him not yet.

"You know," said Jeff, "you will be leaving soon and I'd like you to see what it is. It's okay with me if he opens it now."

"Please daddy, pleeease." Tony was all hugs and kisses; I think he had already figured me out. Well, I always wanted the best for him. All my kids really, but he was the baby, the last one. We had made sure of that. No more kids for Stephanie and me. We wanted to give them the best that we could and three were as many children that we could care for comfortably. "So what do you say daddy?"

"Okay. Let's go open it."

It turned out to be a motorized truck. I was only kidding about it being the size of a car, but as it turns out, I was not too far off. Stephanie came into the den area where we opened the present.

"What are you doing Timmy? We haven't started opening presents yet." I could tell by her look that I was only saved from her anger due to the guests being there. But I also knew, they would not be there when I got home and there would be hell to pay.

"Tony asked if he could open Jeff's present before I left. I didn't see any harm in..." Before I could finish Stephanie was turned and heading out of the room. I guess I was wrong on that kiss good-bye.

I stayed for a little while longer said good-bye and thanks to many of the guests, then drove into work.

***

When I arrived at work I told everyone it was Tony's birthday. They all said that they would work any over time for me tonight so I could get right home. I told them thanks but I wasn't sure I was in a hurry to see Stephanie again. I knew she was pretty mad when I left.

Another slow night until nine twenty-five, when I received a radio call of a disturbance at Duncan Apartments, number two nineteen.

When I arrived with Officer Evan Tonka we went to the second floor, room two-nineteen. There was no answer but we could hear a radio or television going from behind the door. As we looked down the hallway we noticed someone or something down at the end of the hallway hiding in the shadows.

I thought it could be someone involved in the criminal damage to property that had escalated the past two months. We started down the hall. When we reached the end we found a female bent over low in a doorway. It was like she slid down the wall to a sitting position with her feet under her.

She was dressed in a brown silk robe. She did not have much on, if anything underneath it. Her hair had been tossed, as if she had just got out of bed. She had on just the right amount of makeup, just enough that it complimented her natural beauty. It all looked perfect except for her eye makeup, which was runny due to crying.

Tonka asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I was thrown out of my apartment," she said.

"Where do you live?"

"Two-nineteen."

"Who threw you out?"

"My boyfriend."

"He threw you out here in the hallway dressed like this?"

"No," she said with a deep breath and whimper, "He threw me over the balcony... naked. He then threw me this robe."

"Are you hurt? Do you want an ambulance?" I asked.

"No. I'm okay. It's only one floor."

"Do you want to sign a complaint against him?" Tonka asked.

"What does that mean exactly?"

"He would get arrested and go to jail."

"No, I don't want that. I just want my stuff and to get out for the night."

She seemed all right just somewhat unsettled. We didn't notice until she stood up she was barefoot. "Let's go back to your apartment and see if we can get you in," I said.

When we arrived at two nineteen she tried to unlock the door but her boyfriend had it jammed from the inside. She yelled at him to open the door. There was no response. I stepped forward and asked him to open the door.

"What, so you can arrest me?" he said through the door.

"There's not going to be an arrest. She just wants some clothes for the night," I said.

"Yeah, right. I know how she works. And you are falling right in. What did she do promise you a blow job?"

We ended up arguing with him for fifteen to twenty minutes. He would not open the door. We contacted maintenance to unlock the door. After they arrived the workers said that he must have been holding the door from the inside so the lock would not turn.

As I was beginning to get aggravated by his noncompliance I shouted once more through the door, "Open up or the door is coming down and then you will be arrested."

"Go fuck yourself."

Officer Keith Sommers had also showed up to assist. I left both Officer Tonka and Officer Sommers and went outside to check out his balcony, one floor up. I found an empty cable core, the big wooden circle that looks like a table, under the balcony next to his. I pulled it over and climbed up onto his balcony. I noticed his sliding door was partially open. As I tried to remove it from its track, I observed the male standing by the door, holding onto the doorknob.

What I also noticed was he was naked, apparently never dressing after his love making encounter went bad. I started to call to him to come over to me, knowing once he left the door; Tonka would be able to get in but he wouldn't move. I started to whistle at him. I could tell I was upsetting him. I started to call to him, "Hey, I can see why your girlfriend didn't want to bother with you. Small huh?"

He let go of the doorknob to come after me. When he did so, Tonka almost got the door open, but the boyfriend went back to holding it. I continued to work on the sliding door and continued to call to him. All of a sudden the door was in my hands, out of the track.

It was at this time I realized and hoped he would not charge at me as the sliding door and I would go over the balcony to the ground below. As this thought was going through my mind, he rushed at me. I push the door at him then we both fell to the living room floor. About the same time Tonka and Sommers came through the door. They joined us on the floor. The guy was swinging his arms and kicking his feet. I had my Kel-lite flashlight with me. I placed the red-hot lens on his nose. I told him to stop fighting, which he immediately did. We then cuffed him and put him on his feet.

Sergeant Gregory Hammerstan had arrived and told me I'd have to put the man's pants on him without uncuffing him. I thought you have to be kidding, he was not. I informed the guy, "If you kick me I swear you will regret it. Remember how it hurt, my flashlight on your nose? Well, I'll stick it on that little dick of yours."

"Don't worry, no problems," he answered. He was kind of whiny and his bravado had left.

We ended up taking him in for disturbing the peace. While we were waiting for all the information to be gathered, Officer Sommers asked me what it was I was saying to him on the balcony. "Why?" I asked.

"Because a woman who was under the balcony listening to you said she thought you might be gay," Sommers said with a short chuckle.

"I use whatever is necessary to accomplish my goal. I got him off the door, right?"

"Yes, you did do that."

I ended my day going back home to some birthday cake and a note waiting for me. It was from Stephanie and it said, "I'm sorry for how I acted. I just don't like when Jeff does things his way without respect for what I want. Love you, come to bed."

She was right and I would have a talk with Jeff to let him know how things would have to be from now on, but for now it's off to bed, who knows, maybe she'll even be up.

Chapter 21

I went to Jeffrey's office to mention to him about Stephanie's wishes. He was in his office sitting at his desk, working at his computer. When I walked in he cancelled what he was working on. I walked to the chair near the desk and sat down. I told him what Stephanie had said.

"It didn't bother anything. I only wanted you to see the gift. I knew you would like it," he said with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "You did like it didn't you?"

"Yeah, both Tony and I did, but that's not the point. It caused a problem."

"You should tell Stephanie to lighten up some. I won't do that again, so relax."

"I haven't seen Sammy around here for awhile, since the trip to Florida," I inquired to him.

"He said he don't like me anymore. Said he was going to hang around kids his own age. I guess he doesn't want me as a friend anymore, or the money...or the trips. I gave him and his parents a lot of stuff. Then he won't see me. Well, his loss."

"Did the trip go bad?"

"He didn't say. I thought we had a good time but... I don't know. Just said 'I don't like you anymore.' Maybe it's his parents."

"Did you bring him home late like you had talked about?"

"Sure, but we were having fun. He wanted to stay."

"Well I can see why they would be mad."

Jeffrey's eyes shot up at mine, his nose began to flair out a little and his demeanor change abruptly. "What the hell do you mean? He wanted to stay. That's what he wanted. Why do you side with them?"

"I'm not siding with anyone, I..."

"Forget it," he cut me off. "I have to get to a job. I'll call you later."

He grabbed some paperwork off his desk and started towards the stairs. Not another word was spoken until he was getting into his truck. "Hey, I'm sorry. I'm just having a bad day. I'll call ya later."

"Okay, talk with you then."

He sped off down the street towards the highway. Maybe he did have a job he forgot about. He got caught up talking with me. Who knows? Jeffrey was always a bit out there, something short of a full deck. But he had been loyal to me. Everyone has bad days.

***

I received a phone call at ten thirty p.m. It was Jeffrey. He was sorry for the scene he caused earlier. He asked if I could stop by after work. I told him I'd be there at eleven fifteen.

When I arrived I saw his lights on in his office. I went up the stairs calling his name.

"I'm up here. Come on up."

When I walked into the office he sat on his chair playing a video game. He was laughing. "Man I wish I could play this like Tony does," he said.

"I didn't think he had that game."

"He doesn't but we play it over here whenever he comes over. By the way, I wanted to ask you before I said anything to Tony. Do you think he would want to work with me? You know with Sammy gone I could use some help. I would teach him slowly so he would not be over stressed."

"I'm not sure, he's only about nine."

"Sammy was younger than that when I started him out. It's not hard or dangerous. You know Douglas could come too. They would both make ten dollars an hour. If it doesn't work out then it'll end."

I was thinking, this could be a good lesson for them both and they could have the money I couldn't give either of them. The more I thought about it the more it seemed to be the right thing to do.

"It seems okay to me but let me check with Stephanie," I told him.

"Not a problem."

I said I should be getting home, after we played a few games. I could see the boy's fascination with them. He had the latest games available, some costing hundreds of dollars.

It was a five-minute drive but when I arrived home Tony was waiting for me. Apparently Jeff had already called and told Tony about working with him. Now I had to explain to Stephanie that the boys had a job.

"What's all the cheering about?" asked Stephanie.

"Jeff said Doug and I can work with him and make a lot of money," said Tony, his smile was ear to ear.

The look that shot up at me was not that of a delighted wife, happy with what she had just heard. "Jeff lost Sammy's help so he has asked the boys to help him out. Actually I think it might be good. They can learn responsibility and make a little money too."

"It does sound good but why does he never ask us first? He makes it hard to say no once he tells them and puts his spin on it. If it was a bad thing I'd just say no but it's only his method that upsets me," said Stephanie.

"I know. He's goofy at times but harmless. Jeff just wants the best for the boys. His business is going so well and it's his only way to help them. They can learn from him about business and how to become successful."

"Yes, I know, but I just wish..."

"I'll talk with him again."

"You just did, right? In fact it was just tonight. It didn't seem to help too much."

What can you say when she's right but, "You're right."

"Well," she said, a slight smile on her lips, "I know you want the best for them too. We'll see how it goes. It can not hurt their homework or school in general."

"I agree completely."

We then told the boys they could talk to Jeffrey tomorrow. They were happy and actually listened when we said, "Okay, now up to bed."

Hmmm, maybe this will be a good thing.

Chapter 22

"Happy anniversary honey," Stephanie said with a kiss on my lips as she awakens me.

Oh shit. I forgot our anniversary. Not a gift, hell not even a card. For as happy as she is now it will turn bad real quick.

"How does it feel to have twenty-five years in at the old police department?" she asked.

Revitalization. The Gods are with me this morning. "Same as any other day. You know like they say, 'living the dream'," I answered. I'm safe for now but as I give her a huge hug I'm thinking I better look up our wedding anniversary date, just to be safe.

Once I arrive at the police station, I enter the roll call room. Sergeant Raymond Li is waiting for me with my three other officers for the day. During roll call two dispatchers and one clerk walked in and presented me with my twenty-five year award. It was a dozen donuts and a tea bag.

Now, many may feel this is like a punch in the eye, but as the department didn't do anything, it was nice gesture. Some of the donuts were puss bags, donuts with cream in the middle, my favorite. And the tea was not from leaves, but again better than nothing.

***

It was twelve-thirty and I had just arrived to eat my lunch with Sergeant Li. We were

sitting in our cars, side by side, in the parking lot of the Holiday Inn. What a day, so far for twenty-five years of service I have had three donuts, a hot tea, and I was about to devour two hot dogs, an order of french fries, and a large Coke, it just don't get any better.

It was a beautiful day. Temperature around eighty-five degrees, a slight breeze, almost the kind you would feel off the ocean, very few Cumulus clouds in the sky. There wasn't even much traffic on the road making the sounds of the birds in the bushes easier to hear.

I had just started sipping on my drink when there was some radio traffic from the town of Mayfield, which bordered our town on the west side.

"Did you copy that?" Sergeant Li asked.

"No." I said and turned up my radio volume.

The radio dispatched, as scratchy as ever, "Hold up alarm at the First State Bank of Mayfield, 1334 West County Farm Road."

I still took my first bite of my hotdog. These false alarms happened all the time.

"We have received confirmation from the bank this is an actual hold up," the dispatched announced. "Cars Mary three and four go to the bank. All other cars proceed to the area of the bank. There will be more information to follow."

It is normally at this time the radio becomes a cluster fuck. Everybody who needs to be heard starts talking, however usually most of them do not need to be talking. So you pick up one or two words from everyone speaking. Which, of course, sounds like, "Where are...Mary four can...is anybody going...description...traveling on."

Sergeant Li and I thought, "Everyone shut up."

"All units stand by. The offending vehicle is an older model Ford Taurus yellow in color, Illinois plates 13013900, last seen westbound from the bank on County Farm Road. The offender is a male, white, five foot eight to five foot ten, wearing dark clothes and a ski mask, red in color. He also was carrying a sawed off shotgun. This is all the information we have for now, obtaining more as I speak."

"Even though he is going in the opposite direction of us, maybe we should still go out onto County Farm in case he gets turned around," Sergeant Li said. Sure and then there goes my twenty-five year anniversary hot dogs.

Before we could start pulling out the Mayfield community service officer shouted out over the radio, "I've got him. He's pulling into the train station, parking lot three."

The Sergeant in car Mary one called out, "Just watch him. He is armed. You do not follow him."

The cadet in the community service car responded, "Don't worry."

Again the cluster of radio traffic occurred. "What side of the...car three at the bank...he's getting in...where are you...what kind of car again...where...it's a white car."

"All Mary units, the car is yellow," said car three who was at the bank.

"No, he has changed..." the service officer got cut off again.

"Service car one, where are you?"

"He has gotten into a white car. He is..." again cut off.

"All Mary cars, again, the car is yellow. I'm speaking to witnesses now. Yellow in color." This was from the car at the bank that did not realize the offender had changed cars. The community service officer continued to get on the air.

"The car is leaving the parking lot, eastbound on County Farm Road." The service officer finally got a whole sentence out, but he did have to speak very rapidly.

"All units hold your traffic," came from the Mayfield Sergeant. "Service one, what is going on?"

"The offender has switched cars. It is now a white Ford Taurus heading eastbound County Farm Road. It just passed the car entering the parking lot. One male white, no mask, but wearing sunglasses. The other car is parked in aisle three, halfway between C and D."

He was now coming right at us. Yes, I was a correct, good-bye hotdogs as they went flying out my window along with my drink. I learned a long time ago you do not get in a car chase with food or drink, the clean up is not worth the cost of the food.

As we were leaving the parking lot in my rearview mirror I saw several crows now enjoying my lunch. We pulled out onto County Farm Road heading westbound towards Mayfield. We saw Officer Mike Mansolini northbound at Route 15. Sergeant Li continued west until he came to a side street then went south. I continue west.

Throughout this whole time getting on the radio would become the hardest thing you would ever try to do. Finally a voice I knew. Officer Clifford Russle saying, in a voice three octave higher than his normal voice, "He just passed me on Birch Street at, wait a second, Lincoln."

He was in an unincorporated area. He was not familiar with the streets or their names. "He is driving a white Ford Taurus, still has on the sunglasses, and was handling something on the front seat next to him. I'm going to turn around to follow."

"Where are you now?" was the question from a handful of cars. But there was silence. Long, bitter silence.

"I've lost him. He may have gone into the industrial park," said Officer Russle.

Sergeant Li told Officer Russle to put the information out on the state radio, ISPERN, Illinois State Police Emergency Radio Network, which he did.

"Lakeville car Lincoln three in pursuit southbound Route 15 passing County Farm Road. In pursuit of suspect vehicle used in armed bank robbery, a white Ford Taurus, one male." This was Russle he had re-located him.

Now we got to hear clusters on two radio frequencies. I knew I didn't have to talk, just respond. I drove back to County Farm and Route 15 and joined the pursuit despite the fact that, I was way back in the running.

There were at least ten cars in front of me but two or three behind me. Where did they all come from? There were cars from many jurisdictions.

As I was approaching my city limits I heard my Chief come over our radio, "All Lakeville cars other than Lincoln three terminate pursuit. All other cars stay in town."

I couldn't believe it, however if I continued on and I was involved in an accident it would be my ass. I pulled to the side of the road. I knew two of our cars were still involved. A Mayfield car pulled next to me, almost stopped, gave me a strange look like what are you doing, then sped away, back into the chase.

The pursuit passed me by as I watched from the side of the road. State Police placed a roadblock at Route 15 and Lake Street. The offender's car, with Lincoln three right behind him swerved to the left, causing the car to turn around one hundred eighty degrees. The two cars now came to rest driver's side to driver's side. Both drivers were a little unclear as to what exactly happened. There was a slight collision. Officer Russle saw the suspect reach to his right. The next thing he saw was the blue gray of the barrel of a shotgun being raised towards him. He leaned over and tried to lie down on the front seat of his car for cover.

He cursed his radio and computer, which were attached between the bucket seats. After two deafening shots going through the car Russle sat up and returned fire. Then there was a third blast from the shotgun. Russle's hand went numb the gun fell from his grip. He looked to see the suspect raising himself up to get a better angle to shoot him.

Sergeant Li got off six unanswered shots. The suspect then lowered himself in the driver's seat and waited. Officer Russle used this time to get out of his vehicle staying behind it for cover.

I was only on the side of the road for two or three minutes, which seemed like years, when I heard, "This is Lincoln one, we have an officer down, roll an ambulance. Lincoln three is down."

I punched the gas pedal. My car fishtailed out onto the roadway almost striking a tow truck. All bets were off. If I was going to get in trouble, so be it.

I pulled up to approximately fifteen police cars semi-circled around the offender's vehicle. Numerous shots were striking the Ford Taurus. Then there was quiet.

The Ford started moving north on Route 15. The car had numerous bullet holes all around the car. The two rear wheels had been shot flat. The rear and side windows were missing. Regardless of all this it was moving again. The Chief of Mayfield was the lead car. His was an unmarked car with no police markings except the small red light on top of his car.

Being one of the last cars to arrive, I was now one of the lead vehicles. We reached speeds of sixty mile per hour. Sparks were flying from the rear of the Ford as all the rubber from the tires was gone and the metal rims were screeching on the pavement.

The chase continued for another four miles. We were heading west on County Farm Road back into the town of Mayfield. The Ford started slowing down to turn into a McDonald's restaurant. The Chief of Mayfield shouted over the radio, "He's going into McDonalds. There are children inside. I'm going to stop him."

With that the Chief struck the Ford with his car and just as we learned in driving school, he accelerated which gave him control of the suspect's car. He then crashed both vehicles into a tree. First the Ford struck the tree, and then the Chief's car struck the Ford.

The Chief had struck is head on the steering wheel. Blood was running down his face. As he looked up he saw the blast of a shotgun. The suspect had left his car stepping out of the door and fired point blank at the Chief's windshield. Then he re-entered his car.

The windshield took most of the blast but it sprayed glass at the Chief. Leaving his head and arms cut and embedded with glass.

Two officers ran up to the Chief and helped him to cover behind a squad car. Some officers ran into the restaurant to keep the children and adults from getting hurt. The firing of guns started again, mostly police fire. The suspect then saw an officer coming around a small gift shop. He pointed his shotgun at the officer and fired one shot. The blast struck the officer in his hip, causing him to go down. The shop owner who was watching out of a partially opened door saw the officer fall to the ground. He ran to the officer's aid .The owner placed the officer's arm around his neck and carried him to the safety of his shop. I was behind a car with some state police officers. Using the car for support, I pulled the hammer back. I aimed for the driver's car seat, and then lowered my aim about four inches. I could see the suspect's hair above the seat. I shot one shot. I saw the suspects head jolt forward.

In view of the fact that the suspect was not returning fire, the police fire stopped. It was at this time I realized everyone had left their sirens on as they exited their cars. I had never heard them during the gun battle.

There was movement in the suspect's car. The next movement we saw was his shotgun flying out of the driver's window. He was then told to exit the car and lay face down in the parking lot. A mass of police officers ran toward him. I didn't go as I still watched the shotgun within his grasp. It was safely kicked away and he was hand cuffed. He was bleeding from a gun wound in the back of his head.

Deputy Chief Sanchez arrived just after the ambulance arrived for the Chief, the officer, and the suspect. Sanchez complained to me how traffic was fucked up on County Farm Road and I should direct traffic, which I was told to handle. While standing out there I thought of what just happened and what could have happened.

I also heard that Russle was all right and being transported to the hospital.

It wasn't until I arrived home that night that I remembered it was my twenty-fifth anniversary. I had cake and some laughs with Stephanie and my kids. This was all that really mattered.

Chapter 23

The tensions between Stephanie and Jeff had been growing over the last few years. He has been becoming more and more possessive and controlling. She wants me to break off all communication with him.

I knew the boys were also tiring of his antics. They stopped working for him but Jeff could never understand why. They were making good money. But they just wanted to be kids.

We were also battling with Tony over his problem of urinating in bed. He hadn't done that for many years, when he was a small child. We talked, urged, and yelled at him to just get up and go into the bathroom. Nothing seemed to be working.

But just when it looked as if Jeff was no longer going to be around, he would call the boys with a wonderful trip or present. I would eventually give in to his insistence on their going. He would expound on how much fun the kids would have and how could I deprive them of that.

The final time came when he was going to go to Florida. Jeff wanted to take the boys for two weeks. Stephanie had said no, only one week. Tony had a doctor's appointment and would have to be back. Jeffrey said okay and they were off.

Stephanie and I spoke without fighting that this would be the last time. I would talk to Jeff when he returned.

When Jeffrey did not return the boys on time we called him numerous times, but the calls were never answered. Finally we received a call the day after they should have been home from Tony.

"Mom, we were having so much fun we ran over our vacation. Jeff says we should be back in two days," said Tony.

"Let me talk to Jeffrey," Stephanie said.

"He can't come to the phone right now."

"You have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and you will be home for it. Get him on the phone," Stephanie ordered.

There was a muffling of the phone and after a couple of minutes Tony again said, "He can't come now. We'll try to make it home as soon as we can but this will mean we will miss some of the best attractions."

"I want to talk to him," Stephanie yelled, only to hear the distinct sound of a disconnected dial tone. Stephanie was furious and helpless at the same time. I had already been heading into the kitchen where she was when I first heard her yelling.

She was in tears, "He's keeping them."

"Don't be goofy now. They are all right. Once he comes back, this is it, I promise." I held her in my arms and felt her body heave with every breath. Jeffrey would never put us through this again.

***

The next morning Stephanie cancelled the doctor's appointment. Later in the afternoon, while Stephanie and I were sitting in our back yard, the boys came through the back door. Stephanie ran to them both and hugged them hard. I was not sure if she really thought Jeffrey would have run off with them or what. But all was well now.

Tony started showing us all the gifts Jeff had bought them; Stephanie would have no part of it and went into the kitchen to start dinner. I watched and listened to their stories, they were oblivious to what was going on. Maybe that was the best way to keep it.

***

I stopped by Jeffrey's office the next day. He was at his desk. He started by acting as if nothing was wrong. I asked why he kept the kids past their time allowed?

"They were having fun. You want to know something, that's what I give them, fun. You and Steph never take them anywhere. It's up to me. Then she puts her restrictions on it, well in my book that's bullshit."

"Where in the hell do you get off thinking you know better than we do how to raise our children?"

"They would rather be with me than either one of you. Who buys them everything they want? I'll tell you, me. You guys don't even know how to be a kid anymore."

"You know, you are right. You are a kid, but what my kids need is a parent, someone to supervise them, not always buy their friendship." I was so mad I knew I had to leave before anything I would do, I would regret later.

"You are done. Do NOT call Stephanie, Tony, Douglas or me again. If you do, I'll bring harassment charges against you." I wanted to spit at him I was so mad. Instead I turned and walked out. I think he was in shock as he was not use to being talked to like this, especially by me. I was always the go between and now that had unquestionably changed.

I arrived home and told Stephanie what had happened. She was exceedingly happy. From that moment on there would be no more Jeffrey in our lives. At least that is what we thought for a while.

Chapter 24

I could hardly believe it, thirty years at the old police department. Some thought I would not leave, others knew I was already out the door. Officer Wasmiak talked a good talk of retiring but after hearing it for three years, no one even considered him to be serious.

After thirty years of changing shifts every twenty-eight days my body was giving out. Many thought it was mostly the bosses or politics that made me decide to retire but the truth of the mater was my body wasn't able to take what it used to take.

Oh, there were times I liked the seven to three shift, being home with the family every night. But after all the years I would fall asleep by seven-thirty at night. The three to eleven shift, I could go out every night after eleven and party until two, but not any more. Now I would go home watch old Bogart movies, I still enjoyed myself...but now I was alone. Eleven to seven could be the "happening" shift, but now left me a zombie. It wasn't fun anymore, time to get out.

So I talked it over with Stephanie and put in my letter of intent. I had been talking to some of the guys at the DuPaca County Courthouse about working in security there for insurance and some extra money. I had received a verbal conformation that I had a job.

First there was to be a retirement party. I have been told it was a great party and I had a good time. I received many great gifts. One was a painting of all the historical places in town, this was in place of a watch. Since I had not worn a watch for many years, it was the perfect gift. I was on island time, if someone would ask what time it was, I'd just say, "The time is now." I was never wrong.

The party lasted till dawn. The best stayed for the last hurrah. Sergeant Li and Sergeant Waters, officers Mansolini, Sommers, Russle, Wasmiak, and my best friend, detective Tonka were all there till the end.

Stephanie, who surprised me, stayed right up with us. After Evan Tonka, the last one standing left, Stephanie and I sat and talked of our future. We had a good basic plan that was within our reach. Things were going good and we were all doing fine.

Stephanie had started a job with American Eagle Airlines and was on stand-by, which is a terrible place to be. At any moment she could be called in and had four hours to get ready and make it to the airport. It sucked, but everyone went through it.

We had talked of going to Key West or Jamaica before I started my job at the courthouse. We ultimately did end up going to Key West for three nights. Key West has always been a place that you can not describe, nor would I want to. It is a place you must go to see yourself to understand it.

So here I sat at the Pier House beach, cocktail in hand, watching the sailboats slide past on the crystal blue/green water, thinking how great life is. I really was looking forward to going to work Monday, which I had not done for a long time.

Chapter 25

When I awoke for my first day of work at the courthouse, I woke up without the use of an alarm. I was ready for this. A picture perfect day came through my bedroom window. The sun was shining, the birds chirping, not a cloud in the sky. My window was open about six inches, the curtains never moved, as there was no breeze, just the calm of the new morning.

I got ready and after breakfast I still had an hour and a half to make a twenty-minute drive. I was excided to get started. Stephanie, who had made me breakfast, was sitting across from me. She made eggs, bacon, and toast, but the best thing was she made them my way. First you start with five eggs, cut away the whites, and make them over easy. Next you take five pieces of white bread, put a slab of butter about one-half inch thick under each piece of bread as you fry it up in a frying pan. When nicely brown you place another half-inch slab of butter on the pan and flip the bread over. On top of that you just add your bacon and if you listen carefully, you can hear the arteries closing, but it tastes so good.

I was now ready to start my day. As I pulled into the parking garage I noticed all the different people rushing from their cars to the elevators and stairs. I located a parking space on the third floor, which would from that moment on become my space.

I followed the swarm of people to the stairs and walked down the two floors. I over heard one man who was walking next to me, sharply dressed in a black Hugo Boss suit, black Manolos shoes, and neatly trimmed hair, say to the leather clad male walking beside him, "Now remember, you didn't say any of those things she will be saying you said."

The leather man replied, "I hope I can remember that."

I'm thinking this one may be a loser for the sharply dressed attorney. As I walked from the garage to the courthouse there was a soft breeze between the two buildings. Two geese were squawking at everyone passing by them. The American flag ruffled in the breeze.

Some of the people walking past me were almost at a run; they had cards in their hands. I soon found out these were passes to bypass the security area. These cards were issued to employees at the courthouse and attorneys.

I walked in and entered the security line. Slowly I inched my way up to the deputies and civilian security personnel, which I was soon to become.

I asked where I could find Chief Franklin Lunex. I was told to stay right where I was, he would be right here. As I waited I noticed the deputies working, getting the job done, but smiling and having fun too.

I saw Chief Lunex walking towards me from down the hall. He was a short man about five foot seven, one hundred fifty pounds, jet-black hair, a dark mustache that was trimmed to the sides of his lips. He was wearing a gray suit, which all the civilians wore. His however had stars on the lapels. He smiled as he approached me, his hand extended out for a handshake.

"Timmy, I'm glad to see you again. Have any trouble getting in? Any problems driving here?" the Chief asked.

"No, I didn't have any problems at all. The traffic was light for this time in the morning and it was practically right through the line." All the time we talked he had on an honest smile and concerned eyes.

We talked for about fifteen minutes standing right by the front desk watching everything going on around us. He then asked me to follow him to his office where he had some paper work for me to fill out. I actually felt this man wanted me in his employ. He seemed very high on me and why not? He was getting a veteran law officer for not much money. The pay was, of course, lower than my police pay but I was also receiving my police pension which with the two combined I was netting more than before.

While I was filling out my forms I heard a loud laugh and the word, "Okay." Into the room walked a female deputy. She was a woman in her early fifties, short red hair, and wore a smile from ear to ear.

"So young man, you think you're ready to be an intricate part of a machine that runs so smoothly that if it would want to it could run by itself?" The smile was off her face and she was standing over me with both hands on the desk waiting for an answer.

"Sure, I'm the man." With thirty years of police work on my side that was the best I could do, I was asking myself. Even I would have called the answer lame.

"You're the man? Don't you think a woman could do the job? You know the best way to make it here is to get along and not be sexist." She continued to stand over me but I began to see that smile coming back to her lips. When she could not hold it any longer she bust out laughing, as did the Chief who had now returned to the room.

"Timmy, I want you to meet Deputy Hornsburg, but we all call her Birdie. We call her that cause she flies all over this place and knows all the gossip. She is our official greeter."

"Hey Birdie, glad to meet you."

"Birdie, when he's done with his forms could you take him to Ramirez, he's going to be his training officer. Then bring his forms to me."

"Okay Chief," Birdie replied as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "What did you do before Tim?"

"I was a copper in Lakeville. I retired after thirty years. Just couldn't take the changing of shifts."

"Yeah, that would suck. So this will be like a vacation working Monday through Friday on a day shift?"

"It will be at first at least. Everyone here seems to be all right."

"Everyone is...but watch your back. Especially if you get something someone else wants."

I didn't know what she meant by that but since I knew how departments worked I thought I'd enjoy the innocence of it all until that dragon raised its ugly head, if it ever would.

I finished the paper work and Birdie took me to Deputy Jose Ramirez. He was a short guy, but was about as round as he was tall. He had short hair and the typical police mustache. He was standing in the "side room" where I learned held all the goodies, such as cookies, cakes, pizza, etceteras, etceteras. He greeted me with a warm hello and a bone-breaking handshake.

As he took me around one of the first things I was given was my pass card. This was the card that would enable me to bypass security. Ramirez explained how without the passes it would overwhelm the lines of employees and attorneys. He also went on to say cameras and of course guns are not permitted in the courthouse. But he would bet his whole next bag of cookies that almost every employee had a camera phone and at least, five to ten guns go through carried by attorneys.

"How and why is that possible?" I asked.

"How? They just walk in. To answer the second part of your question 'why', because during the course of their travels they have to go into some bad areas defending their clients and may have to protect themselves. No one wants them to get hurt, except us, of course. If anyone wants to get anything in here, they just have to give it to an employee." I could tell that he did not like the policy but had to work with it.

After a tour of the courthouse we went to the entrance where I learned how to process people through. "Stay in control but be people friendly," was the motto.

Chapter 26

After ten months of working in screening, the now Corporal Ramirez, asked me to come and work the tunnel with him. The tunnel was an area where the inmates from the jail were brought over to the courthouse for court. There were hallways between the floors to securely transport the inmates.

I spoke with Ramirez and asked who else was working there. He told me Allan Topseed, Danielle Lee, and Birdie. I hadn't remembered if I had met Danielle or Allen, but I would never forget Birdie. It sounded like a plan so starting the following Monday I was tunnel bound.

What I found out in a hurry was that Danielle was doing the job I was now to do and she did not like the idea of training someone who was taking her job. I noticed this, as she would smack my hand with a ruler if I "invaded" her area. Even so, the five of us hit it off right away. I learned the job and after a week I was not getting smacked as Danielle was "running" inmates to and from court. It was a job she came to like somewhat.

After a very short time Ramirez was transferred back to screening. Corporal Jillian Monroe was sent up to the tunnel as our new supervisor. As it turned out she was just as fun loving as the rest of us. There was a time for work and if time permitted, a time for play.

Another change was that Birdie retired and after a hell of a send off party that took us weeks to recover from we still missed her. Birdie decided to become a snowbird and move south. This opened the door for Robert "Bobbie" Jamieson to join our crowd, which had begun being called the click. Bobbie also fit into the group.

The five of us were soon going over to each other's house with our spouses. Stephanie loved meeting my co-workers and their husbands and wives. We would get together every other month. Then at times we would go out after work just the five of us. It was a lot of laughs and just good times.

We had been together for three years when one afternoon we decided to go out after work for dinner and a drink. After making all the calls to make sure nobody at home had plans we decided to go to Cheeseburger in Paradise. It was a Jimmy Buffett restaurant.

We arrived at five-fifteen. We were seated in a booth under a mural of a Key West sun set. The restaurant had murals all around, on every wall. The center where the bar was had dock posts and ropes with an assortment of items hanging from the ropes.

Under the half-inch of varnish were post cards from Florida. One had an alligator on it saying, "Send more tourists." The place oozed fun, and we were the ones to squeeze out every last laugh.

Our waiter, Antonio, quickly appeared and took our drink order, two Margaritas for the ladies and three Miller Lite beers for the guys, large drafts. There were also three appetizers ordered.

The drinks arrived amidst the talking, music, and laughter. As I finished three-quarters of my beer, Allan noticed that my glass was chipped. When our waiter came by Allan mentioned about the glass. "Antonio, my good friend Timmy has a chipped glass. He was lucky not to have cut his lip," said Allan.

It was just a small crack in the glass, nothing sharp or dangerous. But Antonio proceeded to get distressed by it and asked me over and over, "Are you all right sir?"

I said, "Everything is fine," to the waiter and told Allan, "stop your whining."

"I'll get you a new beer, sir." He then started to take the glass away. I stopped him. There was one swallow left and I wanted to enjoy it. So, I hoisted the glass and drank it down.

Two minutes later the manager was delivering me my free drink, which I said was not necessary, but since he insisted. After eating I ordered one more beer. When Antonio came to take the order I had placed a corn chip in my glass and said to him, "This glass has a chip in it too." He laughed, but said only one chipped glass per day.

When we left Antonio received a very good tip for putting up with us. We walked out side to a wonderful evening. It was eight o'clock and the moon was entering the sky with the sun refusing to go down. We said our good-byes and each headed home. I was hoping Stephanie would be up and sitting outside by the pool.

* * *

When I walked into the house I looked out the sliding glass door to see Tony, his girlfriend Paula Kammes, and Stephanie were sitting near the pool on the deck. What luck, and what a great day. I went into the refrigerator to get a bottle of beer, and went out to join them.

"I was hoping you would be out here," I said to Stephanie. "How are you guys doing?"

"Fine," both Tony and Paula answered.

"How was dinner?" Stephanie asked.

"It was very good. We had a blast." I went on to tell the story about the chipped glass, everyone was laughing. The moon was now directly above us in all its brilliance.

The conversation moved from several different topics until Paula said to Tony, "You should tell them." Both Stephanie and I had noticed Tony had started a dialogue with us several times lately only to stop and walk away. We had tried to get him to talk with us but he would say he forgot what he was saying. We figured he would explain it to us when he was ready.

When Paula said those words it seemed like everything stopped and all eyes were on Tony. We had just been talking about his Godfather, Jeffrey Motter and the facts about why we didn't see him anymore.

That was when Tony said, "I hope I never see that bastard again."

He started choking on his words a little. His breathing became labored and his head dropped as low as it could go. "He molested me."

If an atom bomb had gone off right next to me it would not have been any more of a shock. Talk about going from a high to a low, this was a plane crash.

Stephanie was the first to move to Tony. "Are you okay?" she asked, sounding as if it had just occurred.

"This happened when I was about eight years old," he cried.

I knew exactly how Stephanie felt because for years to come I would feel as if it had just happened. In my mind it had just occurred. With Stephanie asking all the questions to make sure Tony was all right, I went into a police mode.

I knew I would not ask specific questions. I would leave that to the police and the Children Center, which handled all cases of child abuse.

We found out that Tony recently told Paula of the abuse and she told him to tell us. They had been trying for a while but it was hard for Tony to do. He was concerned how it would affect both Stephanie and me. He did not want to upset us.

I asked Tony, "What do you want to do?"

"I want to stop him before he does it again." Paula sat at his side, with Stephanie to the other side. Paula held his hand and provided him with the strength he needed to continue. "He hurt me and in some ways I'll never be the same. I know what he has taken from me I don't want anyone else to go through this."

"Tony, we'll stand beside you in anything you decide. I want you to know if you start this it may be you who will be under fire. He will have no defense and his attorneys will come after you." I wanted him to know the reality of the situation before we started anything.

I couldn't believe I could sit there and discuss this with him and not be going out of my mind. Did I really lose so much of my heart that I wasn't affected by what I was hearing? But I guess it is the same mechanism I used to forget when I would pick up body parts of someone struck by a train. A defense mechanism or I would have long ago gone crazy.

"Dad, I want to do this. Will you help me?"

"I will be by your side the whole way, unless you tell me different." I knew there would probably be things he would not want me to hear. There would be some things that would be too difficult to discuss in front of me.

I went inside the house and brought my cell phone outside. I called detective Evan Tonka. I told Tonka basically what Tony had told me. Most of the abuses that had taken place occurred in Lakeville, which meant Lakeville police department would investigate the crimes.

By this time I had known Tonka for over thirty years. We had remained good friends after I left the police department. It was already eleven o'clock by the time I called. Tonka said he would come by the house tomorrow at ten in the morning.

We sat outside for a while longer just talking but everyone's mind was on what had just been said. Paula had to go home so Tony drove her. Stephanie and I went up to bed. With not much talking we lay side by side then just waited for morning. There was not much sleeping that was going to happen tonight.

Chapter 27

Stephanie and I woke up at six in the morning. Neither of us slept for more than two or three hours. There was a slight drizzle of rain falling outside. There was a peculiar gray to the day. It was almost as if the day was fitting for what was to come. There would be a lot of dark secrets brought out into the light today. This would be the start of the longest chapter in our lives. Even I could not know how many peaks and valleys were in store. And the valleys, no one could have known how very deep they would go. They would go so deep that life itself would be put to a test.

At nine-fifty a black Ford Crown Victoria pulled up in front of our house. It had no police markings but it was very identifiable as a police car. Four doors, outside spotlight, a car that was purchased with thousands of other police cars state wide to save money.

Out of the driver's door stepped Evan Tonka. He was dressed in a dark blue polo shirt, black dressed pants, and black shoes. He had his service weapon on his belt next to his police badge. He walked up covering his head from the rain with his metal clipboard. Once on the front porch he rang the doorbell.

Stephanie went to answer the door as Tony and I waited in the family room. When Tonka entered he gave Stephanie a hug and a little rub on the back. They then joined us.

I stood and offered my hand to Tonka. Greetings were exchanged. He then walked over to Tony and asked how he was doing. "I'm okay now, but you may want to ask me later."

Tonka explained he wanted to take Tony downstairs to get his statement, "Will that be all right with you?"

"Whatever you think would be right," I told him.

"After I'm done with Tony I would like to question both of you. We can probably do that with both of you together. Tony, if you could hang around for a while after I'm done talking to your parents, I may have some additional questions for you." He then walked up to Tony and inquired; "This is what you want to do, right?"

Tony just shook his head yes. I could tell he was becoming apprehensive again. I was feeling that I had let him down before. I was a cop, trained to spot these things. How did this go on without my knowledge? I failed him before and now he was going off with someone who was going to ask very difficult questions. The only thing that was a relief was my knowing Tonka and Tony knowing him too.

I asked Tony, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes." With that he turned and led Tonka down the stairs to the basement.

Tonka advised Tony he was not going to ask graphic questions at this time. He explained how the Children's Center would have a detective come out to interview him, but he assured Tony he would be present when the interview took place.

"Who did this to you?" Tonka asked first.

"Jeffrey Motter."

"Where did it occur?"

"Mostly at his house in Lakeville but also in Florida, Colorado, and California."

"When did this happen?"

"When I was eight to ten years old."

"How do you remember when it happened?"

"I remember once it was Christmas. We went to his house to play a game he bought for me."

"You said 'we' who are we?"

"My brother Douglas was always there with me."

"Did anything happen to him?"

"No, I don't think so. He never said anything to me about that and at one point I told him and my friend about what happened but made them promise never to tell."

"Who is your friend you told?"

"Ken Saucer, but I haven't talked to him for a long time, he has moved away. I'm not sure what he would remember."

Tonka continued for about twenty minutes asking basic questions to get a picture of what had happened. When he was done he asked Tony if he had any questions for him. "Not really. But... do you know when he'll get locked up. I don't want him coming here and bothering me or my parents."

"Don't worry about that, I'll do my best to get a high bond and he will go right to jail."

They walked upstairs and Stephanie and I then escorted Tonka back down.

* * *

When we arrived at the bottom of the stairs Detective Tonka had us sit down on the couch. He sat in the chair across from us. It was slightly awkward being in our own house and having Tonka take over the authority in the household. I knew he was in the police mode and he would conduct the interviews professionally and compassionately. The questions were of a volatile nature. But there was no way around them.

"Well, I guess we should get started," Tonka said. "I have all your personal information already so I'll get to the meat of the matter." He shifted in his chair because he thought I would critique him on his questioning techniques. I, however, could not care about how he got the job done, just for him to get it done.

"When did you learn of this happening to your son?"

"It was just yesterday." I continued to tell him how my day had gone and how the subject had come up. He asked general and specific questions. After some questions he would look back at notes taken earlier from Tony's interview, then look back at our answers.

Tonka was thorough and left no question unasked. He asked, "What did you specifically ask Tony about the crimes?" The question hinted of me possibly leading Tony with some of his answers.

"I didn't ask one, not one, question of the crimes. I'm not so sure I want to know exactly what that bastard did to him. I'm trying to keep myself under control and not lose it. That might toss me over the edge." I was starting to break up and the words came out chopped and my breath was short. "This is going to be what Tony wants. I let him down and didn't protect him once, it won't happen again."

After almost an hour we walked back upstairs. Tony was seated on a sofa. He was watching and whistling at the birds. The male cock-a-too was screeching up a whole series of whistles and screeches. I walked up to Tony and motioned for him to follow me. He followed me as we went into the kitchen where we were alone.

"Are you all right?" I asked. He looked me in my eye and shook his head yes. "Do you want to continue? This was the easy interview. Things will get tougher as we go along. Since Motter is guilty they'll have to attack you. Are you ready for that?" As I spoke he kept eye-to-eye contact, never once looking away.

"I am. I don't want him to hurt anyone else. I understand now how I was taken advantage of. Tonka said he'll get him off the streets." His eyes still on mine but now they were turning glassy. He then turned away, "Dad, let's do it."

"Okay, son. I'll stay right by you and I will watch so you won't be hurt again." I meant those words as much as any words I have ever said, but the facts I had come to learn showed me, I could not totally protect him.

* * *

A few days later I received a call from Tonka who told me he had contacted the DuPaca County Children's Center about Tony's allegations. Every report of sexual abuse of children went through the Center. The county had set up what was to become a victim's rights for sexual abuse.

One of the first guidelines that was written was the victim would only have one in- depth interview. The police department would just do a primitive report with no in-depth talk about what offenses actually occurred. It would be just a basic report of sexual abuse. A report only used to initiate further investigation.

This was done so that the victim would not have to relive the abuse over and over again. It made the process of gathering information easier for the victim.

Tonka said the case was turned over to investigator Paul Hennesey. I was familiar with Hennesey as he used to work with the Mayfield Police Department. I had seen him on occasion at calls when I worked in Lakeville but never worked directly with him. He was well respected by his peers.

Tonka said he would continue as lead detective along with Hennesey. They would be the investigating team. Hennesey wanted to speak with Tony, Stephanie, and I. He wanted to do a more comprehensive interview with all of us, including Douglas, this time.

Tonka would be present during the interviews to add any of his expertise. We set up the meeting for tomorrow at six in the evening.

When the time came we were waiting in the living room. Hennesey and Tonka arrived in the same car. They came into our house and Hennesey declared how and what would be occurring. They would interview Tony first then Douglas, Stephanie and me last.

Tony again went downstairs to be interviewed, only this time it was at great length. This time, everything would come out. Tony was with investigators Hennesey and Tonka for a little over two hours. When he came up the stairs this time his eyes were red, he looked somewhat disheveled.

Hennesey said he did well. He said he was very believable and would have a strong case on his testimony alone. They then went downstairs with Douglas. As they were walking down I was talking to Tony.

"Are you all right? If you want, if this is going to be too hard, we can stop it."

"It's going to be hard, I know that now, but I started it and I will finish it." I just wanted to hug him for being so brave. I believe a tear swelled up in my eye.

The rest of the interviews went very much as the first one did. When they were almost done they said they had a few more questions for Tony. They had asked him if he was sure he would want to continue. He held his head high and said, "I want him in jail. No more kids hurt." Stephanie left the room crying. It was how we all felt.

Tonka said they would start a surveillance of Jeffrey Motter. They would do some garbage pulls to ascertain if he was throwing out any pornography that Douglas and Tony had seen on his computer. It was the start, now the police had to do their jobs and gather all the evidence needed to convict Motter.

* * *

Tonka did the garbage pulls since he worked in town and he had done pulls before and knew whom to contact with the garbage company. As most people set their garbage out the night before pickup, the Motters did not. They placed their garbage at the curb the day of pickup, only hours before the truck arrived.

Tonka contacted Meyers Garbage Company security office to advise them he wanted the driver to pick up the garbage and deliver it to him. He would be waiting down the street. Meyers said they would cooperate any way they could.

As Tonka sat in a rented van down the street he observed Patricia Motter walk the garbage out of her house. He then saw Jeffrey walk out two bags from his garage and office area.

About forty minutes later, after watching that nobody else touched the garbage Meyers Company picked it up. He drove to the end of the block and quickly exchanged the garbage from one truck to the other.

Once back at the police station came the good part, going through the garbage piece by piece. Tonka found which bags were Jeffrey's by all the business papers being discarded. After three hours of looking, however, there was no new evidence. He would do this three more times with similar results.

* * *

Several months had gone by and even though I was kept up to date with the investigation some frustration was setting in. "When are they going to do something?" Stephanie would ask.

To be followed by Tony's, "Yeah, when?" It was hard to tell them how the system works. Even though you know he was guilty, you had to be able to prove it in court. Sometimes that was not as easy as it seems.

"It will happen. It just takes time. If we can get more on him he will probably take a plea bargain and we won't have to go through a court hearing. This would save Tony from having to testify and be cross-examined by Motter's attorney." I continued to talk like it did not bother me, the delay in the arrest, but I wanted action as much or maybe even more, than anyone else.

Tonka waited outside Motter's house. He was waiting for him to make some kind of mistake. Although, he didn't know precisely what he was looking for. Anything outside of normal, but then again, how normal was Motter. As Tonka watched the house he remembered how I would tell him about small boys working for and playing games with Motter. Now as he watched, Motter had no children visitors. Did he know they were watching? Was he tipped off? Did he see Tonka in any of the assortment of vehicles he used?

Tonka followed him to various locations to do electrical jobs or to the airport. When going to the airport Tonka had learned Motter would fly to Fort Lauderdale, Florida to one of his condos. He sometimes would be gone for two to three weeks.

Tonka called Hennesey at the Children's Center to let him know things had come to a stand still. Hennesey said, "Maybe we should have a meeting and go over what we have and decide whether it's enough to go with."

"We have plenty." Tonka said.

"I think so too, but we have to play devil's advocate and attack what we have like his defense will," Hennesey said. Tonka knew he was right. They would have one shot, it better be a good one.

"How about Friday morning around ten?" Tonka asked.

"Good by my schedule, ten it is."

Tonka hung up the phone and started to look at the file in front of him. It was already about an inch thick and almost certainly going to get fatter. Picking up the papers and looking at them he realized this would be a difficult case. Not because of the evidence, he felt he had plenty of that, but because it was personal, this victim was not just a name. He was his friend's son. Sometimes he wished it hadn't happened in Lakeville, he hoped he wouldn't let anyone down.

* * *

It was ten thirty Friday morning when Tonka's phone rang, it was Hennesey, "Hey Evan, running late, had a bad one last night, a little girl was raped by her brother, she then took a mountain of pills. She's in the hospital now; don't think she's out of danger yet. It could go either way."

"I'm here waiting, no rush. I put everything aside for the morning," Tonka said. It just doesn't stop Tonka thought. He was also working on a case that involved a man forty-eight years old trying to pick up a twelve-year-old girl via the Internet. The man would be surprised that the twelve-year-old girl was a detective who was looking to put him away. That's what he did it for, police work, the satisfaction of taking bad people off the streets and putting them in jail. Unfortunately you have to go through the heartache to get to that point.

Hennesey walked into Tonka's office. He placed his file next to Tonka's. "Mines bigger than yours," Hennesey said.

Tonka smiled and shook his head, "Not on your life." Tonka was sitting at his desk; besides the Carver file he had numerous other papers lying about. Hennesey took off his beige jacket. It was warm enough outside to go without one but it helped conceal his weapon. He was wearing a polo shirt, slacks, brown shoes, and had his badge attached to his belt.

Tonka was dressed in a suit and tie, but had his suit coat hanging over the back of his chair. His tie was undone and hanging low around his neck. His gun was placed in its gun locker above the cabinet along the sidewall. "Where do we start?" he asked Hennesey.

"At the beginning," Hennesey replied. "We are going to have to articulate exactly how this started and how we developed it. Do we only have the victim's story? Is it plausible? Why would he make it up? What's his gain? These are some of the questions we must ask and be ready to answer."

Tonka had known Tony for all of his eighteen years and had never known him to lie. Well, unless you call Tony's account of the broken vase a lie. Tony had been in the house alone when he was around seven, sitting in the family room. When Stephanie and I walked in we saw a glass vase on the floor below the mantle of the fireplace. It was in a thousand pieces. "What happened here?" I asked in a somewhat disgruntled voice.

Out came a soft voice, never a quiver of dishonesty in it say, "It just flew up to the ceiling then came crashing down." Tony sat on the chair looking up at us and at one point I thought I could see a halo forming around his head. His eyes were so full of 'please believe me' that I then asked him if he had gotten hurt when it fell.

But that was Tony, so full of childlike beauty. He then came back with, "No daddy, I didn't get hurt."

"What we have is a girlfriend telling her boyfriend, who has confided in her his God-father, molested him, and he should tell his parents. They try several times but it doesn't come out. Finally one night, he tells them. What do the parents do?" starts Hennesey.

"After the shock wears off they ask their son what he wants to do. Is this conceivable for a veteran police officer?" Tonka answers his own question, "For Carver it is. As much as he would want to tear that asshole's head off, he'd go along with his son's decision."

"But would he taint or contaminate his view to get a better story?" Hennesey asked.

"I've known him for twenty years or more and even though he would want everything to go just right for Tony, he would never have him lie or change the facts. He doesn't have to, the guy is guilty as hell." Tonka was getting, to some extent, upset with Hennesey. "You don't know him like I do."

"That's right I don't. That's why I'm asking. And you better be able to take these types of questions better on the stand because they're going to get a lot harder."

Hennesey was right but Tonka didn't like the doubt Hennesey had about me. "Besides, we have no reason to doubt Tony's accusations. Even if Motter hasn't done anything to reaffirm the statements as of yet, we have no reason to disbelieve Tony." Tonka said.

Tonka continued, "Remember how the parents told us about the trouble they had with Tony wetting his bed during that time. It's a known and proven fact bed-wetting is a problem that can occur during a sexual abuse case."

"Well, for that matter, the way Motter tried to take control and use all those "toys" to get the kids to come over. Typical," Hennesey agreed. "All ways a pedophile can work and without having the victim's trusting folks understand what's really going on."

"How can you deal with this all the time?" asked Tonka.

"You have to hope and pray for a win. That's the only thing that'll get you through. But yeah, it's hard." Hennesey had dropped his head. Tonka felt bad he asked the question. He realized Hennesey only wanted a flawless case to get this guy locked up.

They went over all the evidence they already had and played out all the scenarios they could think of. It was time to confront Motter, but first Hennesey had one last question. "Do you think Tim could take care of all this by himself?"

"I don't think he would, but it could happen," Tonka said. He hoped he would not have to be in the middle if it ever happened.

* * *

It was one-fifteen in the afternoon when detectives Tonka and Hennesey walked out of the Lakeville Police Department. Hennesey was wearing his jacket to conceal his Glock automatic handgun. As they were entering Hennesey's unmarked car he asked Tonka, "You don't have your suit jacket on. Isn't your gun showing?"

"You know what? I was thinking so much about what we could say and how we could say it, I forgot my weapon."

"Want to go back and get it?"

"No. It should be all right. I know Motter, I don't think he'll be any problem." Tonka sat on the passenger side of the car and shifted a little as he had spoken. He knew he should probably get his weapon but wanted to confront Motter so badly he decided to forego having his weapon.

It was only a short drive to Motter's parent's house. They sat outside for a few minutes waiting to see if they would locate him in his yard. Just then Motter came from behind his garage. He was with two small boys, about six and four by Tonka's guess.

"This is weird, due to what we are here for," Tonka said.

"Well, let's roll," and with those words they pulled the car next to the front driveway about twenty feet from where Motter now stood.

Motter watched as the car came to a stop and the two detectives exited their vehicle. He recognized Tonka as he worked with him at Lakeville Police Department. He had also seen Tonka numerous times at my house for parties. As they approached Motter greeted them with, "Hello. What brings you here?"

"We have some questions for you," Tonka said.

"Would you mind if I took my nephew and his friend inside?" he asked.

"No. That's fine," Tonka said.

They watched as Motter walked towards his house. He opened the screen door and called out to his mother, "Mom, the kids are coming in. I'm going to talk to a couple guys out here." He then walked back to the detectives. A neighbor two doors down was watching from her front yard. "Now, what's this about?"

Hennesey said to Motter, "Jeff, it has come to our attention that you have molested a boy some years ago. He came into the police department and reported it." As Hennesey spoke Motter's shoulders started to drop and his head began to fall. "Jeff you know who reported you, right?"

Both Hennesey and Tonka were hoping for him to admit to Tony Carver. Motter spoke without raising head. In a soft voice he said, "Yeah, I know. It would be Sammy Bowlinger."

Even though both detectives had been speaking with Motter, neither could now speak, both were speechless. They looked at one another then Tonka spoke, "Actually it was Tony Carver." Motter appeared to have his shoulders fall even more.

"I'm so sorry. I can't help myself," Motter said. "What can I do to make it up to him?"

Hennesey said, "I think we should go back to the station and talk about it. Would that be all right with you?"

"Sure," Motter said, barely audible. He started to sniffle as he walked with the detectives to the police car. The neighbor that lived two houses down was still watching. She had walked to the end of her driveway. Motter looked at her as Hennesey opened the front passenger door and Motter got in. "I guess everyone will know soon, huh?"

"Let's get to the police station, then we can talk about everything," Tonka answered.

Tonka rode in the back seat of the car directly behind Motter. Motter was not handcuffed or was being restrained in any way. During the five minute drive Motter didn't say anything.

Hennesey parked in front of the police station. All three opened their doors and walked towards the police station. They were walking three abreast. Tonka held the front door open while Motter and Hennesey walked in. Tonka followed then walked pass the other two to unlock the secured door going into the police station.

Once they walked through the door they were in an interview room. There was another door, which was also secured, going further into the police station. The door they had just come through was not secure going out. The room was in the region of fourteen by fourteen feet. It had one desk with nothing more than a telephone and a pad of paper on it. There was a window looking out to the front parking lot. You could see Hennesey's car parked right where they had just left it. The only wall hanging was a calendar. There were three office style chairs sitting across from the desk. Tonka sat at the desk with Hennesey and Motter sitting across from him. Hennesey sat next to Motter. Tonka asked Motter if he wanted anything to drink. To which he just shook his head "no".

"Okay Jeffrey, just so you know, you are not under arrest and can leave at any time. Do you understand that?" Tonka asked.

Motter shook his head yes and muttered something.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

"Yes, I understand." Motter was being very compliant. He appeared as a man who has been caught doing the worst addiction possible and feeling like it was the end of the world.

Tonka continued the interview, "You know we told you Tony Carver was the person accusing you of molesting him, correct?"

"Yes."

"Do you deny that statement?" Tonka asked.

"No. Tony never did lie. He was always a good boy. Is he messed up because of this?"

Motter looked up at both Tonka and Hennesey. "I never meant to hurt him. Is he all right?"

"He has been seeing a doctor, but you know how it is, sometimes these kids think it's their fault."

"But it's not. Someone should tell him that"

"Maybe we can arrange that later but for now let's concentrate on what happened. Do you remember how old he was when this all started?"

Motter thought for a while then answered, "Seven maybe eight. It was a long time ago."

"Do you remember where this happened?"

"Yes, mostly at my house..."

"You mean your parent's house, right?" Tonka asked, clarifying the location.

"Yes, my parent's house. My bedroom is in the basement and I would ask his parents if he could spend the night to play games and go to the show. They would always have his brother, Douglas, come along. But, I never took them if their parents didn't say it was all right."

"Any other places you took them?"

"We went to my places in Florida. We also went to California, Minnesota, and Texas. We would go to the amusement parks. I would normally drive them on these trips." He continued to talk as if it was a cleansing for him. He started giving a very descript account of what happened and where.

As Tonka continued to ask him questions, Hennesey was writing down the answers.

When it was over he virtually told the same story Tony had told. It was at this time Hennesey asked if he would want to make an audible tape in reference to the incidents.

"If that would help Tony, I'd do anything," Motter replied.

Hennesey went out to his car and retrieved a tape recorder and returned to the police station. Since he walked out of the room unassisted he pulled on the door from the lobby. He had forgotten that the door was locked from the outside; but it wasn't secured from the inside. Tonka called out to wait a minute as he got up from his chair and opened the door for Hennesey.

Once back in the room Hennesey placed the recorder on the desk with the microphone facing in the opposite direction of him. He asked Motter to pull his chair up to the desk and asked him to speak loudly. Hennesey started out by telling Motter he was going to be placed under arrest for molesting Tony and that Hennesey would read him his Miranda rights once the tape was turned on.

"Are you all right with all that?" Hennesey asked Motter.

"Yes, I'm okay."

Hennesey turned the recorder on. "This is investigator Paul Hennesey. I'm with detective Evan Tonka from the Lakeville Police Department and Jeffrey Motter. Mr. Motter, I'm going to give you your Miranda rights. You have the right to remain silent. You don't have to talk to me unless you want to. You can stop talking to me whenever you wish. You can speak with or have an attorney with you while being questioned. Do you understand all of these rights?"

"Yes, I do." Motter then was asked to sign the Miranda form, which he did.

"You are under arrest for molesting Tony Carver. You do know Tony Carver correct?"

"Yes I do. I'm in trouble aren't I?" Motter asked looking up at Hennesey.

"Well, what you did was wrong, correct?" Motter put his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, and shook his head indicating yes. "If this truly bothers you, then this could be the first step to correct the problem," Hennesey said.

"I can't correct the problem. I was born with it. I have always been attracted to young boys." Motter spoke matter of factually and started to look as if he was relieved to tell the story.

Hennesey went on to tape a nine-minute tape of basically what had been said before. During this taping Hennesey asked about the boy that Motter thought was the complainant, Sammy Bowlinger. Motter disclosed the story of how he befriended Sammy when he was about twelve or thirteen years of age. He would let him ride his snowmobile and four-wheeler. How they would play video games and go to shows and on trips.

He spoke of almost the same ways he came to molest Tony Carver. The tape was turned off when Tonka asked him if he had ever shown x-rated pictures to Sammy, like he did to Tony. Motter replied he had.

"Where did the pictures come from?" Tonka inquired.

"Some were from magazines," Motter said, after a little thought he added, "Oh and the internet. I've down loaded some pictures to look at."

Hennesey got up and left the room. He went to type up a consent to search form. While he was gone Tonka continued speaking with Motter. "How many pictures do you have?"

"I don't know, maybe fifty to one hundred."

Tonka continued to talk with Motter. Motter's demeanor never changed. He repeated saying he was sorry for any pain he had caused Tony or his family.

Hennesey had three Lakeville officers come into the station to assist with the search. They waited outside for Tonka, Motter, and Hennessey to go to Motter's house. Hennesey opened the door and walked over and sat down next to Motter. He had prepared the consent to search form that limited a search of his room and office at his parent's house. It would also include his car and work truck.

Hennesey explained to Motter that he had prepared a search warrant. It would not allow searching of his parent's area of the house. He informed Motter, "We do not want to upset your parents any more than we have to. Just by coming in will upset them, but we will not be intrusive to their area of the house."

Motter shook his head and said, "I understand. It's okay with me to search my room. Anything I can do for you guys, I will."

The three of them then exited the front door and walked to the squad car. Motter was still not cuffed and Tonka still was unarmed. Motter sat in the front passenger seat along side Hennesey, while Tonka sat in the back seat behind Motter.

As they began their drive to his parent's house Motter said, "My mom's home baby sitting for my brother's son. She just had some heart trouble. Would it be all right if I told her what was going on? I don't want to scare her."

"That would be all right," answered Tonka.

As they pulled out onto the roadway three marked squads followed with three uniformed officers inside the cars. Motter asked if he could call his mother while in route to the house. He was told he would have to wait until they arrived there. Tonka said he would go up to the house and have Mrs. Motter step outside to speak with him. Motter stated, "That will work."

All four cars parked in front of the house. Tonka exited the car and told the Officers Dominic Hattle and Matthew Williamson to stand by as he went to bring Mrs. Motter back to speak with her son. Hennesey rolled down Motter's window so he could speak to his mother. Two of the officers stood near the front of the vehicle. The other officer was retrieving items to be used in the search from his trunk of his car.

Tonka got out of the car and began walking towards the front door of the house. He looked over to his right and saw the same neighbor he had just seen earlier watching again what was happening. He pushed the doorbell but did not hear any chimes, even though the outside door was open. He then knocked on the door. Still no one came. He then knocked harder.

An older lady came to the door. She was a small lady maybe five feet four and could not have weighed more than a hundred pounds. Her hair was completely gray, almost white in color. On her head she wore a bandanna. She had on an off white dress with lace around the middle. On her feet was a pair of light blue slippers. She asked, "Can I help you?"

"Mrs. Motter?"

"Yes."

"I'm detective Tonka with the Lakeville Police Department. I have met you a few times."

"Yes. I think I remember. You're a friend of Tim Carver, right?"

"Yes I am. We have Jeffrey in our car..."

"He's not hurt is he?" her tone was excited and concerned.

"No, not at all. But he wanted me to walk you out to the car to talk to him. He has something to tell you."

"Well all right then, let's go."

Tonka helped hold the screen door for Mrs. Motter as she walked down the stoop to her driveway. There were no words exchanged until she arrived at the police car. She saw her son seated in the front seat of the car.

As she walked up Jeffrey Motter said, "Mom, I molested Tony Carver and now they want to search my room. I told them it was okay." Mrs. Motter just looked at her son. A quizzed look as if she didn't understand what he had just said.

She stood silent a few seconds when Motter repeated, "I molested Tony Carver."

She backed away from the car and walked back towards her house. Following her were Jeffrey, Tonka, Hennesey, and all three officers. Motter asked if one officer could stay with his mother due to her health. Officer Dominic Hattle was ordered to stay with Mrs. Motter.

Upon entering the house Mrs. Motter and officer Hattle went into the kitchen. She sat at the kitchen table and he stood near her. Hattle told her Jeffrey wanted him to stay with her.

Jeffrey, Tonka, Hennesey, Officers Matthew Williamson and Karl Robinson went into the basement area of the house where Jeffrey had his bedroom. Jeffrey stood just inside the doorway and watched as Officer Robinson, the evidence technician of the police department, began to collect items of interest. He was also taking pictures of all the seized items as they appeared prior to their removal. He immediately placed an evidence tag on Jeffrey's computer and bagged numerous DVD's and floppy discs. He had Officer Williamson remove the items to the waiting police cars.

At the same time as Officer Robinson was working at his job, Tonka was also searching about. On Jeffrey's desk he had some papers; under the papers were some photographs. By looking at the photos Tonka could tell they were taken inside this very room. The pictures were of a young boy, maybe fifteen years of age, naked and in the state of arousal. Tonka did not know this boy but thought that perhaps it was Sammy Bowlinger. He called Officer Robinson over and advised him of the items.

During the search Mrs. Motter telephoned her husband Herman. When she reached him she sounded disorientated by saying, "Herman, the police are here. I think they arrested Jeffrey." There was a pause until she continued, "I don't know why." She then hung up the phone and told Officer Hattle that her husband was on his way home.

The search had been going on for approximately two hours when Herman Motter arrived home. Walking up to his house he observed police officers removing several items. He could not detect what the items were as most were in paper sacks. He went inside and walked into the kitchen to speak with his wife. He inquired from her what was going on. She again sounded the same as before, not really grasping what was happening.

Herman Motter asked Officer Hattle what was happening. Hattle referred him to Detective Tonka.

As he walked down stairs he observed his son standing inside the room. He asked his son, "What's all this?"

"It's okay dad. I'm under arrest but they have been treating me very well."

"I'm going to call my attorney," Herman Motter said. He then left the room and walked upstairs to make a phone call.

One of the items Officer Robinson was going to take was a three fifty seven handgun. Jeffrey Motter had asked that detective Tonka not take the handgun. Tonka advised it would only be taken for safekeeping. Jeffrey Motter said nothing would happen if the gun were left. Tonka made the decision to leave the weapon per Motter's request.

The search was over and Officer Robinson had an inventory list of the items taken. The inventory list included a Dell computer, an Apple computer, two flat monitors, a Sony digital camera, VHS video cassettes, numerous games and game cassettes, and numerous pictures from various places around the room, including photographs of nude boys. The safe was also confiscated and after Jeffrey Motter had opened it, the open safe revealed more pictures of child pornography.

As they were walking out they told Mr. and Mrs. Motter they would be taking Jeffrey back to the station then driving him to DuPaca County Jail after they process him.

Jeffrey called out of his window; "I'll be fine. I'll call you later."

With that they drove off to the police station, one car with Tonka, Hennesey, and Motter and three patrol cars with numerous impounded items.

* * *

When they arrived at the police station they entered through the sally port, this was the garage door in the back of the police department. Tonka radioed to the dispatcher to open the overhead door. Once inside he again called to have the door shut. Motter was then asked to exit the car.

He left the vehicle, and then walked into the booking area where he would be printed, photographed, and prepared for his transportation to the county jail. Officer Williamson was requested to assist with these duties.

During this time Tonka and Hennesey were in Tonka's office on the phone with Assistant States Attorney Paul Shehume. In DuPaca County any felony charges must be approved by the States Attorney's Office before the charges can be brought. Tonka gave Shehume the facts of the case. Shehume then said to charge him with two counts of criminal predatory sexual assault. After he arrived at the jail he would go before a judge and be advised of his bail amount.

Shehume told Tonka he would be requesting a high bond. Tonka hung up the phone and proceeded to type up the complaints against Motter. He then went into the booking room and told Motter what the charges were. When he was being told Motter just sat and listened to Tonka. He didn't say a word. His whole body language indicated he was a crushed man. Once he was processed Officer Williamson transported him to jail. On the ride down, not a word was spoken. When he arrived at the jail he was taken to the intake division. He was processed into the jail per their policies and procedures. He was then transferred to a holding cell where he would stay until eight-thirty the next morning to go before a judge.

* * *

The next morning Tonka awoke and proceeded directly to bond court for the hearing. He was to meet up with States Attorney Shehume to go before the judge.

As Motter was brought before Judge Tammy Fairwell he looked even worse than he did the day before. Shehume asked Tonka if he had looked that bad yesterday. "Not that bad, but I guess a night in jail will do that to you," Tonka answered him.

The case was called. An attorney named William Billward, who was seated next to him, represented Motter. States Attorney Shehume was seated next to Tonka at the table across from the defense's table. I sat in the front row of the spectator's area. I just wanted to see what Motter looked like and hear what the judge would set as bond.

Both counsels answered ready to the judge to start the bond hearing. Motter's attorney wanted bond set at ten thousand dollars. States Attorney Shehume was asking for a million dollar bond. When he asked for that amount Motter's attorney, Billward stood up and blurted out, "That's ridiculous. A bond for murderers isn't even that much. This will cause a hardship for his family."

Shehume struck back with, "Your Honor, this is a man with numerous properties in this state and Florida. He has in his possession a passport and the means to leave not only

the state but also the country. We consider him a high risk."

"He is still considered innocent. He has lived here his whole life and will continue to stay in this area until he is found not guilty." Both attorneys were up on their feet and battling for position.

Judge Fairwell tapped her gavel, as voices were getting louder. "I can agree with both of you. I understand he is innocent as he sits before me. I also understand he has more opportunity to flee than most other people. There for, I am setting his bond at seven hundred fifty thousand dollars."

"But Your Honor..." defense attorney Billward started.

"Counsel, you heard my decision. Unless you have another matter, we are done." The Judge spoke firmly and with no doubt of her decision being final.

I watched as Motter conferred with his attorney and was then again taken away by a deputy. I walked out of the courtroom and waited for Tonka.

He walked out about five minutes later side by side with States Attorney Shehume. They were both happy with the bond amount. Tonka said it was the largest bond amount in Lakeville's history. I was happy with it also but felt he would not be in jail too long.

I asked Shehume if it was possible to have his passport revoked? He told me that had already been discussed but was not going to happen.

It was just after three o'clock that afternoon that I received a phone call from Tonka. Motter's parents had posted seventy-five thousand dollars in cash to get Motter out of jail. So when it came down to it, it took just over three hours for them to come up with that kind of money. Tonka also told me that Motter had retained a new attorney. It was

Theodore Wilson the second. His father, Theodore Wilson the first, had been The States Attorney, a judge, and had run for governor, he was very politically connected. This was going to be a battle, even with all the evidence.

I had some problems with Theodore Wilson II representing Motter. When he was the States Attorney I had worked with him many times and I felt some loyalty toward him. But I was assured what he would do in a case like this was to make sure all the T's were crossed and the I's were dotted. I understood this explanation, and as I knew Motter was guilty, it didn't bother me.

* * *

I found out a few days later the trial would be held in courtroom 5005. This courtroom is located on the fifth floor of the courthouse with the four other felony courtrooms. Presiding over the trial would be Judge Henry Peterson. I knew of Judge Peterson, said hello to him in the hallways but never seen him on a personal level.

I had been told he was a fair judge and a very polite judge. He would have the perpetrator saying thank you as he was going to prison for twenty years. All I wanted was fair. With all the evidence that we had against Motter, how could anyone see it any other way? But that old anecdote kept coming to mind, 'You never know what a jury will do.' In this case I had hoped I did know what this jury would do. But then again, he would probably take a plea and not ever go to trial.

I was working in my room at the courthouse when I received a phone call from

Detective Tonka about what had been going on for the last two weeks. It would seem Tonka and investigator Paul Hennesey had been following up on the pictures found on the computer. There were over one thousand pictures of children down to the approximate age of five involved in sexual pictures. Then there were the five pictures taken in Motter's room of a teenager, about fifteen, naked in the state of arousal.

Tonka said he had ten pages of about thirty pictures from the Internet that were down loaded to Motter's computer and the five photographs of the teenage boy.

It turns out the five photographs would become more damaging than the thousand Internet pictures. Tonka said the State Attorney's Office wanted to charge him with manufacturing child pornography besides the possession of pornography. Manufacturing was yet another class x felony, punishable by eight to seventy years in jail. This would be in addition to however many charges from Tony's cases.

As it turned out, it was two weeks to the day that Tonka and Hennesey arrived back at Motter's house to arrest him for manufacturing child pornography. When they knocked on the door his father, Herman Motter answered it.

"What is it now, officers?" Herman Motter asked with sarcasm oozing out of every word.

"Is your son Jeffrey home?" Hennesey asked.

"What is this in regards to? Haven't you harassed him and this family enough? What do you want to do? Make another scene like last time to discredit us in front of our neighbors?"

"We have to speak with him," Tonka said. They were speaking to Herman Motter through the screen door with his hand on the front wooden door, which they were expecting to be shut at any time.

From behind Herman Motter came Jeffrey's voice, "What's wrong dad?"

"It's the police. You don't have to talk to them. Stay where you are."

"It's okay I'll have to talk to them sooner or later," Jeffrey said as he came up beside his father.

"What's this about?"

"We have a warrant for your arrest," Hennesey stated.

"For what?" Herman Motter screamed. This scream brought Jeffrey's mother, Patricia, to the door. She also started yelling when she heard her son was again being taken away. Things were getting out of hand and both detectives did not want to use any force.

"Listen," Tonka said, "Nothing is going to change the fact a judge has signed a warrant that we have to serve. We don't want anybody to get hurt. Not you, not us. So please, let us do our job and this will all work out a lot easier for all of us."

"He's right," said Jeffrey. "I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I find out more. Detective Tonka, will I be able to call my parents before anything happens to me?"

"Certainly."

"Then, let's go." With that Jeffrey squeezed past his mother and father to join the detectives outside.

Even though Jeffrey was coming on his own resolve, his mother wasn't quite ready to give in. "You won't be able to continue to get away with this. Why don't you go after the one who started all of this, Timmy Carver? He's the one who needs to be arrested." Patricia Motter continued to follow the detectives and her son down the driveway. "I'll call Theodore Wilson right away. He'll get you out. They're afraid of him."

This time the drive to the police station was silent. As they again pulled into the police sally port Motter exited the car without a word. He walked into the booking room and asked for his attorney. He had been advised on what to do if in case it materializes that he was again placed under arrest.

"You don't want to say anything?" Tonka asked Motter.

"No, I do want to say something. I want my attorney. Didn't you hear me the first time?"

This was not the same person that was arrested the first time. There was no sympathy for what he did. Instead there was sarcasm. He never said another word that night. Not at the police station, the drive to jail, or at the jail itself. He was content to wait for his bond hearing in the morning.

* * *

At the bond hearing at nine a.m. the next morning Motter sat next to his attorney, Theodore Wilson II. His parents again were sitting in the chairs directly behind them. After hearing all the evidence, the bond judge set bail at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, ten percent. This meant twenty-five thousand dollars cash.

Herman Motter leaned forward and whispered to Jeffrey, "I have that on me." He would meet him at the jail and have him out within an hour and a half.

So before I received a phone call telling me what had occurred, Motter was in his car driving home. I had always believed in our court system but this was beginning to weigh on my nerves.

When I arrived home from work I told my wife Stephanie what happened in court. She was more upset than I was. "How can this happen? He admitted to doing this to our son. He gets to go about doing his business as if nothing happened?"

"You have to remember he has a huge bond amount, it's just that he has the money to post it." I was trying to be logical with her. Make her understand the system. This was not going over well.

"How can you take his side? He hurt your child, and you say it's all right that he doesn't get put in jail? Don't you care at all about what he has done?"

"I'm not taking his side. I'm just trying to make you understand..."

"Oh, I understand. I understand you care more about your fucked up system than you do your own son." She was now crying and the words were hard coming out. I knew we were feeling the same way, only it wasn't coming across to her that way. I went to hold her. She pushed me away, "Leave me alone." She then walked out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom. I heard the lock click.

I knew enough to leave her alone. We would talk later. But I was to find out this would not be the last fight over this incident. There would be many more fights and tears, from everyone's eyes.

* * *

The case was called up before Judge Henry Peterson in courtroom 5005 every month since the first date, a month after Motter's last bond hearing. No one had to be there, only Motter, his attorneys, who now included Theodore Wilson II and Arnold Kukec who worked in Wilson's office, and the States Attorneys.

On Tuesday, September fifteenth, attorney Wilson went before Judge Peterson to ask if his client, Jeffrey Motter could have permission to leave the state and travel to Florida to see if his properties were ready for hurricane season. It was a condition of his bond he could not leave the state. The States Attorney's, Paul Shehume and Brent Clark, objected to the request.

Judge Peterson after more or less a ten-minute argument granted the request. I had heard Judge Peterson granted most requests by defense attorneys, not that he leaned their way, but to protect against a reversal if the case was appealed.

After I was made aware of the motion to grant Motter the opportunity to leave the state, I told my wife Stephanie again what had occurred. She again went into a rage. "How can all this happen? Don't they know what he did to my son?" she cried out.

I tried to calm her down, but the more I said the worse it got. "They are looking at he's innocent until proven guilty."

"He's guilty. He even said he was guilty to the cops. Tony's confused and going through things I have no answers for, yet this guy can go to Florida on a vacation, like he has done nothing? This is bullshit. Our system sucks."

"I'm not condoning it. I'm just saying he has made his bond and as long as he works within the structure of it, he will be able to do things."

Stephanie was sobbing and her breathing came hard. This was going to be a long, long time until this trial would be over. If it lasted twelve months it would be too long. I took Stephanie in my arms and held her trembling body next to mine. I gave her a kiss on her forehead. "We will get though this."

It was a few minutes before she could talk again. In-between sniffles she said, "I don't know if I'll last. My nerves are all ready shot and we have barely begun. You are use to this kind of thing."

Actually that was far from the truth. Yes, I had handled more incidents of child abuse than she did, but never before was I the one that brought the piece of shit into the house. This was unnerving to me also. How could I, a trained police officer, trained to observe indicators about crimes, miss everything? Looking back now, I could see that there were red flags all over the place. He was living at home with his parents, liking being around children, no girlfriends, and no girls at all. None of these would indicate anything wrong by themselves but put it all together and I felt I should have seen it.

* * *

I hadn't mentioned anything at work about what was going on in my life but I could tell they knew something was different. About six months had passed since the arrests and nothing was happening in court. I wanted to sit in on a hearing to find out for myself how the case was proceeding.

I would have to ask my boss, Corporal Jillian Monroe, if I could have some time off from work to go to court. The next court date was January third at nine o'clock in the morning. On December twenty-seventh I asked Jillian to come into a back room with me.

Once in the back I felt my throat strain, I started to speak, but my voice left me. This would be a lot harder than I had ever expected. I looked at Jillian as my eyes began to tear up. How come this was happening? I could talk to Stephanie about this without this much emotion.

"What's wrong?" asked Jillian. "Is there something you want me to do?"

All I could do at this point was to shake my head "No." As I tried to compose myself my mind was racing on how I could explain myself without feeling like a complete idiot. I took several deep breaths then began, "I would like to go to a courtroom on January third, Courtroom 5005. My son was molested and it's taking too long. I have to see how it is progressing." I barely got the words out. Jillian consoled me with a hug.

"Certainly you can go. Is it all right if I tell my supervisors? I'm sure they will agree with me."

"That would be fine. I just don't want everyone to know right now."

"I'll speak with them later today, and then let you know. Will that be acceptable with you?"

"Yes. That's fine."

My eyes were still red and my breathing wasn't normal. Jillian asked me, "Do you want to stay in here a little while? I'll keep Danielle Lee in to do your job."

"That would be good. It'll only be a few minutes. I'm sorry for the way I have acted."

"There is nothing to be sorry for. You are doing much better than I could ever do. Just come out when you are ready. No one will come in here."

Jillian left closing the door behind her. She would tell my immediate co-workers I would be in the back for a while, not to go back by me. She said it was a personal matter that would possibly be discussed by me at a later date. She would not go into it any further.

When I came out of the room no one even gave me a look as if to say, "What's going on." These were true friends. They knew something was wrong but were not going to cross over any lines to get me to talk before I was ready to share my story with them.

Later in the day I asked Jillian if she could tell my co-workers what had happened. I didn't feel I could tell them without getting emotional. She said she would tell them when I was out to lunch.

When I did return from lunch Jillian told me that she had given my co-workers; Danielle Lee, Allan Topseed, and Robert "Bobby" Jaimieson the basic story of what my family was going through. They all had questions for her which she didn't have the answers to, but they still had to ask. All shared a deep regret of the proceedings I was going to be going through.

But when I returned from lunch no one said much to me other than, "Sorry to hear of your problems." I was glad they kept everything short. It put my mind at ease.

I sat at my desk watching the inmates arrived for afternoon court. Basically my job was to call for the inmates to come to court, then make sure once they were here to get them to their proper courtrooms.

I sat on one side of a window where I kept count of the inmates from jail. My co- workers, the county deputies, were the ones actually transporting the inmates to the courtrooms.

This afternoon was moving as well as any until I heard a plunk on the wall. I looked up to see an inmate falling to the ground with another one standing over him motioning for him to get back up. The inmate on the floor had blood running out of his nose and also possibly coming from his forehead. I called to Allan and Bobbie who immediately started out the door to stop the fight. It was over as quick as it started.

The inmate that was standing was Edgar Sampson. He was charged with attempted murder of his girlfriend's new boyfriend. I guess he wasn't much on closures to relationships.

The inmate who was still on the ground was Arvin Smith. Smith was a burglar with a sizzling, venomous tongue, which probably earned him a trip to the nurse's office in the jail. Three other inmates confirmed that Sampson said something to the effect, "Hold your fuckin' horses, asshole," as Smith bumped into him as he was walking past. Smith said something back to Sampson. The next thing the inmates saw was Sampson swing a fist once at Smith striking him in the nose, blood splattering to the floor, then Smith spinning around and smack his head on the wall.

While Smith received medical attention, Sampson stood in a corner saying, "He shouldn't have pushed me. Bet he doesn't do it again."

Smith was taken back to the jail, then to the hospital for stitches in his forehead. Smith and Sampson were placed on separation; whereas neither of them can come into contact with the other one. Sampson was taken back to his cell where the story of him almost killing Smith had already been circulating. It is called the grapevine of a jail. Of course he let the story grow and never denied anything that made it look worse than it was.

As things began to settle down in our room, which was called base, Allan, Danielle, Bobbie, Jillian and I started talking again. Danielle whispered to me, "Sorry about your son. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." But I wasn't. I was starting to crumble again inside. I never could figure out why I became so emotional at some times and others I could stay calm.

"Well, I have to say you're handling this better than I could. I'd have to go out and kill the guy," Bobbie said. I never knew at first how to handle this statement. I wanted to kill the bastard that hurt my little boy. However, I knew this was the right way. But again, was I wrong. Did I not love and care for my son as much as Bobbie would care for his child? It was always confusing to me.

"Well, let's just say I'm giving the state their chance first. If they fuck it up, who knows what could happen." I kept telling myself going through court was the right thing to do.

They all ended by telling me if there was anything I needed, "do not hesitate to ask." They were all good friends, all well meaning.

* * *

It was now nine months since Jeffrey Motter was arrested. He had been back to Florida two times, to check on his properties. He appeared in court once every month. He was still operating his electrical business, all as if nothing had ever happened.

Tony asked weekly what was going on. He had also started seeing a psychologist once a week. He had terrible mood swings from happy to angry. Stephanie and I started noticing some of our liquor missing. When we confronted Tony he would fly into a temper tantrum and slam the door to his room.

We didn't know how to handle him. With everything he had been through did he have a good reason to drink? Maybe so, I wondered. Were these changes in him due to the stress he was under? We did not have the answers therefore we also started seeing a psychologist. This was tearing at our whole family. Stephanie and I were also having many more fights than ever before. And I was drinking more than ever, not for the pleasure of a drink either, to get lost in a haze, to make me forget. Life was taking a dip and it was all because of one person. The person I trusted my son to and he betrayed my most precious trust.

It was on a Tuesday morning I was contacted by States Attorney Paul Shehume. He wanted to set up a meeting, to "go over the case" and to talk about "some situations that had come up at some of the court dates."

I was told Stephanie, Tony and I should come in. We set the meeting for five p.m. on Friday. Finally, I thought, we are starting to get somewhere.

I went home and told Tony and Stephanie. "What's this about?" asked Stephanie. "Did they set a trial date?"

"I'm not really sure. The States Attorney said some situations had come up and..."

"What situations. The guy's guilty. What could possibly be discussed?" Stephanie half-yelled through clenched teeth. I could see this was turning south real fast. Again the messenger was going to be hung.

"Look, I don't know. That's what he said." I was trying to retain my composure but I could feel the hairs starting to rise on the back of my neck.

"Why don't you ask questions? Find something out, instead of waiting until they decide to tell you. This is our son, have you forgotten that? We should know everything going on right now. Not have to wait until Friday for them to give us the court date." I knew she was sounding off; unfortunately I was the sounding board. This fighting was tearing me up because I knew it was not aimed at me but the words and the impact of her statements hit hard.

I went to bed without any dinner. It would be better that way, as neither of us would have to continue the fight. We were both being drained emotionally. I would wait for Friday to find out the answers, although I didn't think we would receive all the answers we wanted, nor would we be satisfied.

* * *

I woke up at six-twenty in the morning on Friday, just before my alarm was to sound. I could smell something cooking in the kitchen. The smell was making its way up the stairs into the bedroom. I had noticed Stephanie was not in bed or the master bathroom. I threw on some clothes and went downstairs. "Boy that smells good."

"It should. It's bacon, eggs and hash browns, one of your favorites." We had been talking for the last few days. That is how it went with these fights. We both knew the other one was not the enemy but there seemed a need to lash out.

"I think I'll just sit down and wolf down this breakfast. On second thought, I'm going to slowly enjoy this breakfast. Yeah, that sounds better." This was how it had been, fun times. I would enjoy it for as long as I could because I felt later today my life would again turn to shit. But for now, as the song went, everything is beautiful.

My day at work was uneventful. Not many questions from the guys. And of course, by guys I mean both boys and girls. The only uncomfortable time was when I was told again, "I don't know how you can control yourself, I would kill him." I'm not even sure who said it this time but I didn't matter, it fucked with my head.

I finished work and went downstairs to meet Tony and Stephanie who had called me on my cell phone announcing their arrival.

There was little activity going on at four forty-five in the afternoon at the courthouse. There were a few attorneys coming in for meetings with the States Attorneys and a few classes on victim impact.

These were classes in which an offender would sit in a room and hear from victims or victim's families about the impact their crime has made in their lives. Tonight it was driving while under the influence of alcohol classes. Some of the victims here tonight had lost loved ones, taken by a D.U.I. driver.

It seemed to help both sides. The offenders most of the time came out teary eyed. The victims seem to feel they had assisted in them never driving drunk again. If it all worked, it was worth the effort.

I saw Tony as he entered the security line. He gave me a heads up hello nod. I waved back. I felt so proud of him deciding to prosecute Motter. It was no small decision. But he decided to do it, no matter the cost to him. He would have to tell strangers exactly what was done to him. It takes a brave person to stand up in front of the offender and tell their story. But I still hoped that Motter would do the right thing and plead guilty and not put Tony through any of that.

After Stephanie and Tony were through the line Tony asked me who were all those people walking through security bypassing the screening?

"Those are attorneys or other workers who work for the county courthouse."

"Man, they could smuggle in anything, even weapons. Is that how you get in dad?" I heard the question, but thought more into it. Was he asking me if I could bring in a weapon? Or was it just small talk and a question?

"I go through the pass line but every now and then they pull people aside and have them go through regular security, in case they are bringing something in they are not supposed to have." This was true for other workers and attorneys, but I knew no one would stop a security co-worker to have them go through the security line. It just wasn't done.

We made our way to the States Attorney's office without much being said. We would wait to find out what this was about before there was any talk of our case.

We proceeded past the deputies guarding the closed entrance to the State Attorney's building. I waved, gave them the classic, "How ya doin'?" Then we entered the elevator to the second floor.

Since there was no receptionist at this hour I called Paul Shehume on my cell. "Hello,

Paul? We are waiting in the lobby. Great, see you soon"

"Is he here?" asked Stephanie.

"Yes, he is. He'll be out in a minute. Just has to walk up from his office."

Shehume opened the door and with a cordial smile said, "I'm so glad you took the time to come in and see me. This won't take too long but a few things we should go over. Also I'd like to keep you up to date with how the case is proceeding and if you have any questions I'll try to answer them. If I can't, I'll try to find out the answer for you."

I felt we were in good hands. We would find out information, which was important to us now. Shehume sounded confident and self-assured.

He took us into the offices of all the State Attorneys. There were at least fifty to sixty cubicles we walked past to arrive at a conference room. In the conference room was a large table, no less than six by twenty feet. There were numerous chairs tucked under the table and several larger ones along the wall. On the walls were three pictures of American justice, which was what I was looking for. The walls were also stocked with bookshelves containing all sorts of law books. There was nothing on the table except for Shehume's folder. He had a few papers out on the table and a legal note pad.

He started by asking if anyone wanted a drink, water or perhaps a soft drink. We all declined, Stephanie had brought her own Diet Coke with her. Shehume then began.

"Everything is looking pretty good, but a few questions have arisen. Timmy, how did this case get started? What I mean is who did you call or contact with your complaint?"

"You know the story," I responded. "We were sitting outside all those months ago when Tony told us what had happened. He had first told his girlfriend and she persuaded him to tell us."

"Then did you tell him, meaning Tony, what he should say or do?"

"I asked him what he would want to do. Contrary to telling him to file charges, I told him what might happen to him when he would have to testify."

"Which was what?"

"If the defense had nothing else to lean on they would attack him. Try to discredit him. And since Motter is guilty, that is what would happen."

"Did you call the police station?"

"Yes," I told him. "Well I called Detective Tonka..."

"Why call him? Was he a friend?"

"I worked there for thirty years. They were all my friends. He was the detective. It's his responsibility."

"Motter's attorney is saying you planned all of this. You arranged Detective Tonka's participation so that you could control the investigation through your friendship. That's why you called him."

"That's nuts," I blurted out. This was starting to really piss me off. "This piece of shit does this to my son then feels he can weasel his way out of it just because I was a cop."

"Tony," Shehume continued, "did your dad force you to say anything?"

"No, I don't think he wanted me to do it at first. We never discussed it. I told him I wanted to get Motter off the street so he wouldn't hurt anyone else. My dad then backed me on everything."

"Mrs. Carver, did Jeffrey Motter ever borrow you any money? He says he loaned you large amounts of money and that's why you are making Tony do this."

"We haven't talked with him for about seven years. If we owed him money how come he never contacted us?" Stephanie was getting more and more upset as this line of questioning continued. "Who's on trial here?" she asked. "This molester attacked my son. Now he's saying we did something wrong?"

"He's trying to show an alibi," Shehume answered. "These guys will sometimes say anything to project the blame towards someone else. We are with you one-hundred percent but we have to cover all bases so nothing can come up and bite us in the ass later."

Since I seemed to be the one staying in control I explained, "Listen, Motter and I were best friends. He gave us things we gave him things. He had given us some money for a car repair, but we were taking him on vacations with us and he wanted to go. He said it would be his portion of the cost of the trip. I helped him with some trouble his sister got herself into, a small theft charge. I told her what to say to bypass an attorney and those fees. She didn't get away with anything, just did not have to pay the extra thousand dollars for the attorney. He was my friend. He helped me, I helped him."

"That should work fine. Thanks Tim," Shehume said. "But now Tony, I have to ask you if you remember specific dates of the occurrences? His attorney is requesting the dates so he can have time to produce an alibi."

My mouth dropped to the floor. "Alibi? What the hell is that about? There is no alibi because he's guilty. My son accused him, he admitted to it, and there were others he molested, what alibi could he possibly have?" Was Motter actually going to try and beat this? How? "I thought he said he wanted to help Tony and not put him through this. That Tony had been through enough."

"Problem is he has an attorney now that is going to be looking out for his best interest," Shehume responded.

"So let me get this straight, they want my son to think about what happened to him over and over to get exact dates and times of when this ball of shit molested him? What happened to protecting the child by not having him think about what happened over and over again?" I was fit to be tied. I had pushed my chair back as I stood up, almost yelling at Shehume. Stephanie placed her hand around my wrist trying to calm me. I looked at her and started to regain my composure. I was constantly telling her she could not lose her cool; here I was out of control. I sat back down.

"I'm sorry, I know it's not you but this isn't right. But, didn't you say legally all we needed to prove our case is a three year window?" I was calmer now but still shaking my head.

"That's true, but the Judge wants Tony to think about it to see if he can narrow it down any. This Judge grants the defendant a lot of motions; however he has never had a case overturned."

"When do we have to have this new information by?" asked Stephanie.

"The Judge has set the next date in five weeks. You should let me know in four. If he can't remember anything else, that's fine, but we have to try."

Stephanie asked if there was something else. When there wasn't, we all said good-bye and walked out of the building.

Tony was quiet during the walk back to our car. I asked him if he still wanted to continue this. He said he would continue until 'that guy's off the streets'. I was so proud of him. He knew it was not going to be easy, but he would see it through.

* * *

About three days later Tony came up to me as I was working on a lighthouse I was building. "What's up?" I asked.

"Well, I think I did it," he replied. "I remember one time was on July fourth. I remember the fireworks he bought in Wisconsin for us to shoot off at his house. I can't remember the year for sure but I was about eight or nine."

"That's great Tony. This is what they wanted."

"It was hard you know, to think about that. Brought back the things he did to me. Even like, when I sat in the car next to him and he would place his hand on my leg. Then rub up and down it. I always hated that."

"I'm sorry you had to go through this. I'm sorry any of this happened to you. How about going to Igloo Ice Cream Shop for a shake or banana split?"

"Right now? You are in the middle of working on your lighthouse."

"I need a break. Now is the best time."

We walked upstairs and asked if anyone wanted to go with us. This is a difference between me and Stephanie, she wants to get her work done, I want a break. So there it was, only Tony and I going for ice cream.

We sat in the car talking about school, homework, sports, nothing really but things life is made out of. That is when I placed my hand on his leg, which I then realized I did all the time, ever since he was big enough to sit in the car. I remembered what he said about Motter rubbing his leg. How many times had I done this to him unknowingly and upset him? Damn this fucking Motter. He was entering every phase of our lives.

We picked up the shakes but Tony wanted to go back home to drink his. There was not much conversation going on during the ride. I just wanted it over, to get past it, and move on. At least now there was a specific day, July fourth. We could now move forward.

* * *

On Monday morning when I arrived at work I called States Attorney Paul Shehume and left a message I would be stopping by on my lunch hour to discuss what Tony had come up with.

That afternoon while walking to the States Attorney's office a couple deputies stopped me.

"Hey Timmy, sorry to hear about what happened to your son." Word was not supposed to get out but I knew it would sooner or later. "That mother fucker, how do you do it? I'd have to cut off the guy's balls then slice his throat by now."

"Hopefully the courts will do that," I responded. It was getting harder and harder to hear people say they'd take care of it themselves. Was I that screwed up I didn't do that?

How many of them actually would take the law in their own hands? It didn't matter; I heard it enough to know. I should have done something on my own and not wait for the courts, but I still believed in the court system. I found out though, I was still learning a system I had worked in for thirty years, but from another angle.

I arrived at the States Attorney's office at noon. I stopped at the front desk and told the receptionist who I was and whom I came to see. She was very professional, in dress and mannerisms. She was about forty years old, but held an impression of being younger. She had black hair cut rather short with a few gray ones here and there. She was wearing a navy blue dress cut just below the knee. She had on glasses, quite stylish for the day, on a chain around her neck. Her voice was pleasant with a slight southern drawl. She picked up her phone and dialed Paul Shehume's extension. I heard her say, "Yes Paul, Timmy Carver is here to see you. Yes...a huh...mmm...sure, I'll tell him. Talk with you later." She then looked up at me and said, "Mr. Shehume will be with you in about five to ten minutes. Please have a seat and he'll be right out that door to your left." I looked to my left and saw the door with several chairs in that area. I walked over after thanking her, and sat down and waited.

While waiting some States Attorney's investigators passed by me, there were some I knew and some that looked barely fifteen. The ones I knew would look at me and some would say hello, some walked by putting there heads down as if they did not want to acknowledge me. I was sure they knew why I was there but again, we did nothing wrong. Still others who did stop seemed nervous, rocking back and forth on their legs, looking quickly from side to side. With this new information I had to give to the State, it would be over soon, at least it would get started soon, and things would go back as before, as much as possible at least.

Paul Shehume walked though the door with a big smile and a hand extended to me, "Timmy, how are you doing? Glad you could make it. Let's go inside and talk. Follow me."

I never got a word in to answer any of his small talk questions. But I followed him to an office that was used for meetings. "Have a seat," he said to me.

"Thank you." I thought I'd get at least a quick word in before he started asking more questions.

"So what have you come up with?"

"Well Tony has been at home thinking about dates or times or anything he could put together. It was very hard on him. He had to remember not only the dates but also he remembered the incidents. I still don't think this was fair to put him through."

"Yes, I know and agree, but we have to at least try to do what the Judge asks for."

"The best Tony can do is Motter took my boys up to Wisconsin to buy some fireworks for the forth of July. When they returned my boys spent the night at Motter's house and he molested Tony that night. He doesn't remember what year but he was about eight or nine years old."

"That's great! Now we have an approximate date. This is very good." Shehume was still smiling only broader now and sounds of laughter came from his mouth.

"Do you think this will be enough for the Judge?"

"Well, as you very well know, you never know what a Judge or a jury will say. But I think it will suffice."

"Good, let's end it." I continued to ask how the case was moving he said quite well for everything that has to get done. What's that I thought? He has been charged, he admits the allegations, and he's guilty. I stood up and walked with Shehume to the exit door. We shook hands and parted ways. The receptionist was helping a woman with a ten-year old girl find the States Attorney they needed to see. I waved good-bye as I passed her. She smiled and waved back, she seemed like a nice person.

* * *

I stopped at the lunch counter on my walk back. Looking at the specials of the day I decided to stick with the cardboard tasting pizza. It was eatable but that's as far as you could say anything good about it. I picked up two slices, walked them over to the counter and paid the cashier. As I walked out I ran into an old buddy, Trent O'Malley from Elm Park Police Department. We walked out and down the hall.

"Hey Timmy, it's good to see you. Heard you retired and started working here but never got the chance to see you." I hadn't seen O'Malley for a few years.

He looked the same as he always had. He was tall, about six feet four, two hundred and twenty pounds. He appeared as if he still worked out. For such a big guy he was always known as the gentle giant.

It was good seeing him, a pleasure to my past. "I'm tucked up in a little room, no one ever sees me. You know flying low, under the radar. Good to see you though," I acknowledged.

"Yeah, it is good seeing you too. How's the family?"

I never knew how to answer this question. But as of right now, "Everyone's fine."

"That's great; Stephanie is a good catch so you better behave. You go out with the guys from Lakeville Police Department much?"

"No, I hardly see them at all. You know we're all basically just work friends. We see each other at functions or parties but that's about it. I see Tonka and a couple others two or three times a month but he is the only one on a regular basis. Mostly I hang out with the group I work directly with. They're a good group, almost family."

"That's good to have. Things have changed by us. You know how it goes, promotions and people forget where they came from; get their heads shoved up their asses. Too bad for some, they were great guys and girls."

"I know, that's one reason I left. Mostly the shift work though. It was killing me. I felt dead on any shift I worked. Days, afternoons, midnights, didn't matter; I walked around like a ghoul. Stephanie told me to get out before I'm too messed up to enjoy life, if I didn't kick the bucket first."

"Why are you over here?" he asked.

I wanted to tell O'Malley but whenever I told someone what was going on in my life it usually brought the carefree conversation to a grinding halt. I weighed my options and decided to go with, "Just stopped down for lunch. The best cardboard pizza you will find anywhere." We had a laugh on that and parted our ways. It was better that way; I'll remember him as the smiling O'Malley just as I always had.

* * *

The next month I received a call on my cell phone while I was working. I looked at my caller I.D. and saw it was from the States Attorney's Office. I looked over to my boss, Corporal Jillian Monroe and asked if I could take the call in the back. Deputy Danielle Lee slid her chair up next to mine and said she'd help out until I was done. Corporal Monroe told me I could leave.

I answered the phone then asked if they could hold for a minute. Once in the back room I again said hello. "Hello Timmy? This is Paul Shehume. Are you very busy?"

Every morning I'm busy. Seems the judges pack everything into a morning call to have the afternoon free. But knowing I wanted to hear what he was about to say my answer was, "No. I can talk."

Shehume continued, "There have been some changes here in the States Attorney's Office. I'm being moved to another courtroom. It's a bit of a promotion for me. I hate to leave yours and other cases I'm working on but we have another States Attorney who is very good taking my place. I'm sure he will do a terrific job."

"What will this do to the case as far as time goes? Won't set it back any, will it?"

"Not at all. The new States name is Gary Wagner. I have already gone over the case with him. He is up and running on it. He's going to give you a call to introduce himself."

"When is the case up next?"

"Next Thursday, just one week from today."

That would give Gary Wagner one week to introduce himself to me. Not much has gone easily with this case. I said good-bye and went back to work. I told them what I had just learned.

On my ride home after work I wondered how Stephanie would take this news. A new face, someone with drive to get this thing moving or another bump in the road, another set back.

When I pulled into the drive I was still speculating how I would be accepted when I told her. I parked in the garage then brought in the empty garbage cans. I put them where they were stored then opened the service door from the garage to the mudroom. I could immediately smell what Stephanie was cooking. The bouquet of tomato and meat sauce was twirling through the air as the pasta was just beginning to boil. She also had fresh baked bread cooling on the counter top.

The table was set for two; candles already lit giving an ambiance to the whole dining room. Stephanie came into the room dressed in a tight pair of jeans and a blouse tight fitting around her stomach and loose around the shoulders. She looked good in anything but this accented her body perfectly. She looked fine and her perfume was just as appealing.

She walked up keeping eye to eye contact as she gave me a full hug then let her hands caress my face before kissing me full on my lips. "I've been waiting for you all day," she said with her blue eyes smiling and twinkling up at me.

"I've thought about you too." It wasn't a lie just wasn't how I was thinking of her. I had been worried all day of how she would take the news. Now with all the work she put into this evening how could I devastate it for her? But then again, maybe she would take

it as a good thing. She wasn't always satisfied with States Attorney Shehume. Perhaps, just perhaps she would be happy, take it as a blessing. I decided to tell her later. Let this night blossom into what she dreamed it would be.

I asked her where the kids were. She smiled and said they would be gone for the night. Ever since this case began intimate moments had been few. We had a wonderful dinner. It was from an old family recipe, which she had perfected over the years. After dinner we cleaned the table and went upstairs for a romantic evening. She only asked me once if anything was wrong. I told her no but continued to think about how she would still react. Now not only about what news I had but that I didn't tell her right away. I needed this night, and I'm sure she did too. What ever the consequences were, it would be worth it, sort of the pleasure worth the pain.

The last words we spoke to each other were I love you. We then fell asleep in each other arms. It was the best sleep I had had in months.

* * *

When I awoke, Stephanie was already up brewing some hot Teavana tea. She had both of our brewing containers filled and the tealeaves were moving up and down as they brewed. We were told about this tea and the benefits of loose tea rather than tea bags as we sat at a bed and breakfast in Key West Florida. You can always meet great people if you have the opportunity to talk with them. That's why we choose a bed and breakfast house whenever we can. We enjoy meeting new people.

The morning was just a continuation of the evening. It was terrific, except I had to go to work. Stephanie wanted me to call in sick, which was a huge temptation but I regretfully said I would have to go to work, but reminded her I would be back home in just a few hours. I finished my tea, gave Stephanie a kiss good-bye and left to get into my car. Stephanie came up to the driver's window. I lowered it as I heard her say, "This has been too long. We have to move on with our lives. We can't let this consume us."

"I couldn't agree more. This thing is sucking us down. From now on, let's be positive. It will be over soon." I actually believed what I was saying. Maybe, just maybe...

* * *

The drive into work was fantastic, as far as rides going to work can be. It was a great day at work also. Not many inmates to get to court. We had the afternoon to talk in-between working and had some laughs. It was going so good someone suggested we go out after work and the plans were made. I called Stephanie who promptly stated, "Oh, I see, you got what you wanted last night so I'm not needed tonight?"

"What makes you think you are off the hook for tonight? I'm still coming home." I was laughing as I heard her snicker. I could visualize her eyes looking up at me, just the way they did last night.

"Just be careful. Don't drink too much and drive." She had become serious. She didn't approve of drinking and driving and I tried to respect her feelings on that matter.

"Hey," I asked her, "Have I told you lately that I love you? Guess I should have been

a song writer." I hung up the phone and we were all deciding on where we should go.

The decision was made to go Mexican. There was this great place, The Hacienda only a few miles away. As it turns out a few of us had already been there separately so most knew where it was located. We all arrived in our cars and trucks. It was a very authentic looking Mexican restaurant. The food was also authentic and superb. The building resembled the Alamo in Texas. When we walked through the large wooden doors we could hear the mariachi music coming from within.

You walked into a small Mexican courtyard where a senorita greeted you, then promptly led you to your dining area.

The tables and chairs were oversized and had the appearance of logs. On the walls hung many rugs with south of the border pictures stitched in them. A video of Mexican resorts and places of interest ran on a huge screen. There were several paintings on the walls from beautiful waterfalls to peasants on the streets of a small town. It is the kind of place that takes you to another place in another time.

We sat at our table and our drinks were ordered. The order consisted of a round of margaritas. There were several stories being told and a lot of laugher about the funny things that happened at work this past week.

We decided not to order dinner but instead just get some appetizers. After awhile Bobby Jaimieson brought up about Tony and the raw deal we were getting in the courts. I told him I just as soon not talk about it now. He felt strongly about it and continued.

"They know you have got Motter. What's his attorney trying to do?"

"Keep him out of jail for as long as he can," said Allan Topseed.

Jillian Monroe added, "What the attorney is really looking for is Mr. Green."

"Who?" asked Topseed.

"Mr. Green, you know money. They know Motter has money. How else did he make that huge bond?" answered Monroe. "We can only hope it gets over with soon. Is there any word on that Timmy?"

"Not really, I mean, they give it new court dates every month but nothing happens. I think I'm going to start going to all the court calls. Not that it will probably help or hurry things up, just something I feel I should do." I didn't want to talk about it but in a strange way I felt better when I did.

"Well, I'm sure we can work something out if that's what you want to do," said Monroe. She was always trying to help me through this. She, and all the supervisors, had been very supportive. For this I was eternally grateful.

"I'll look up the next date then I'll let you know so you can find out if I could appear in court," I said to Monroe.

Jaimieson then added, "I still don't know how you handle it. I tell you, I would have killed him by now, put him in the wood chipper. You have much better control than I."

I changed the conversation to how good the food was and ordered up more drinks. We continued with a good time for a few hours. Then I finally said, "Well it's been great but, time for me to go home."

"Oh, Stephanie going to complain you're out too long?" asked Topseed.

"On the contrary, we have a little business left undone from last night."

Monroe said, "I thought you two were getting along fine last night."

"That's what I want to finish. We are getting on fine."

Everyone started to laugh and there were a few wolf calls.

When I arrived home I looked for Stephanie. I didn't find her anywhere on the first floor so I headed up the stairs. The bedroom door was closed but there was a slight sound of Barry White coming from the other side. A big smile grew across my face. I opened the door to see Stephanie lying on the bed, bed sheet covering her up to her stomach. There were at least ten candles glowing around the room. The smell of lilacs filled my senses. "Shut the door before the kids come here." Being well train and obedient the door quickly closed. "Now come here, I could use a back rub." Ah, the night I wanted.

* * *

For the next trial date I had asked if I could take some time off and go to court. Everyone had been so good to me and extended every helping hand that they could. Corporal Monroe turns a television monitor on so it would show the courtroom I was going to. I put my jacket on over my uniform shirt and went to the courtroom. I changed jackets so there could be no statements that I was trying to influence the courtroom with the fact I worked there.

As I exited the escalator and was walking towards the courtroom, I observed Jeffrey Motter standing with his mother, father and his brother. His attorney was standing about twenty feet away speaking with another attorney. Motter and I had eye to eye contact for the first time since this all began. I had wondered how I would handle myself when this day would arrive.

At first I looked down not wanting to lock eyes, but then I thought, I did nothing wrong. I then brought my eyes back up and onto his. I shot as much hate as I could through my eyes. He watched me as I walked by.

I entered the courtroom and took a seat in the front row behind the States Attorneys, Brent Clark and Gary Wagner. I sat there so I could hear the proceedings. All the years of loud music and the practicing of shooting a gun, my hearing was on the short side of, "What." This happened to be the first word in many of my sentences lately.

Motter's attorney, Theodore Wilson II, looked at me then darted his eyes away. He was seated at a long table with Jeffrey Motter to his side. Also at the table was co-counsel Arnold Kukec. He would assist Wilson throughout the trial. Patricia Motter, Jeffrey's mother, who was seated directly behind Jeffrey, stared at me though the whole court proceeding. Jeffrey never looked back, keeping his head looking straightforward with no expression on his face.

When the case was called Wilson and Clark approached the bench. Attorney Wilson was the first to speak. "Your Honor, first of all I would like to put on the record there are interested parties sitting in the courtroom today. I would like to remind the court of my client's right to exclude witnesses if necessary."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but before the court this morning is a status check?" Judge Henry Peterson responded.

"That is correct, Your Honor," stated States Attorney Brent Clark, "and whoever wants to sit in this courtroom can."

I couldn't believe the first time I came to sit in on what was going on in this case, Motter's attorney tries to get me thrown out. What an ass. What can't I see? What is it he is so afraid of? Is it he is just trying to cause me to feel awkward and make it that I will want to leave? If that was his goal he had failed because I was becoming more and more confident of what I was going to do from now on and in myself. From now on I would be at every hearing, every single one.

"Okay Your Honor, we would like a four week status date. We still don't have any dates when these alleged acts took place. For my client to obtain his alibi we need some type of time the alleged acts occurred," Wilson proclaimed.

I missed the next few words Wilson said. I could not believe I just heard the word alibi. Motter was going to say he didn't do it. He was somewhere else. What was going on?

Clark struck back with, "Your Honor, we had the victim try to recall dates. He and his parents tried very hard to get some kind of dates. I would like to remind you these acts took place many years ago. By law we can use a three-year window for the dates. We have gone beyond the scope of what is required by law."

"Seems to me if the complainant is so sure any of these acts occurred he should have some recollection of at least what year it was, or maybe a time of the year. Something." Wilson's voice was raised ever so slightly, getting a point across but not wanting to go too far.

"Mr. Clark, I would like for you to go back to the complainant and ascertain if he can come up with a smaller window of occurrence," said the Judge. I was hanging my head.

How can they put Tony through this again?

I looked at Mrs. Motter who was still intently looking at me. I then looked back at Jeffrey. So much for my trying to help Tony, so much for my being sorry for their family. I found I hated this man.

"Thank you Your Honor. Sir, I would also like to request my client be able to leave the state to check on his properties in Florida. Hurricane season is drawing near and the properties need to be prepared for this possibility of storms."

"I object," Clark said.

"Over ruled. He will be able to check on his property and belongings. How long would he need?"

"With travel time and seeing all of them... maybe three weeks."

"Granted"

I again was astonished. He was getting to go on a three-week vacation. He is out doing everything he did before. Where was the justice? Just then I had a flash go through my brain, "Maybe I should have taken care of this myself." I knew I wouldn't, but I would not ever use the word couldn't.

The Judge ended with, "Case continued for status till November 23rd."

As I stood up to leave, States Attorney Clark motioned for me to wait for him. With Theodore Wilson II standing at his table with Motter and Motter's family still seated I walked out the door. I waited for Clark to exit.

When he did walk out he was shaking his head. "I don't know what they expect to get. You heard him though; you'll have to try again with Tony to get better dates."

"I don't understand either. If the law says he has a three year window, why isn't that good enough?"

"The only thing I can think of right now is he's trying to meet every objection they have. This could work for us if he's found guilty and tries to appeal."

"If he's found guilty? There is no room in my life for an if to even be considered."

As I walked out of the courthouse that day I questioned myself how I could tell Tony and Stephanie we would have to go over everything again. I was to the point I could not defend or give logical reasons for this to continue. We would have to keep doing what we were told, in the end we will get our justice, or I would get my revenge.

* * *

It had been two weeks since the last court date and here we sat yet again trying to remember dates of incidents that we were trying to forget had happened all those years ago. Tony who really wanted Jeffrey Motter to be put away was the one to push us on. "We have got to think. Do we have any old pictures with dates on them?"

"We did, but one night your father ripped them all up," Stephanie said. I remember the night, could have been last night for how well I remember, but it was probably a year ago. I was having a few drinks, feeling very low when I thought of all the vacations we had taken with Jeffrey Motter. How he had always changed things around so the boys could stay with him. More games, more toys, or he would say to Stephanie and me that we could be alone. At the time it seemed he was doing something extra for Stephanie and

me and the boys. Now we knew he was manipulating his way so he could abuse Tony. I retrieved some photo albums and started looking at the vacation photographs. Tears started running down my face. How could I have let this happen? I picked out the first picture with Motter on it and tore it in two. By the fifth picture I tore it so Jeffrey's head was ripped off. By the time I finished, the pieces of paper were the size of a baby's fingernail. I hated that man.

Now, I wish I had the pictures, yes we had other pictures of our family on those vacations but we had gotten lazy and didn't put dates on the back.

"But wait," Stephanie said, a slight cheerfulness in her voice, "remember when we were in Fort Myers and the tropical storm hit? We should be able to look that up on the Internet for a date."

"Great thinking." I said. "Maybe we will be able to piece this thing together a little better. If dates are what he wants, dates are what he will get." But I still wondered why. Why the dates, he couldn't think that alone could get him off. Why?

Tony also remembered a caricature of him that Jeffrey had paid for at Disney World. He believed that date was on or around his tenth birthday. Another date, we were making some headway.

But that was it, nothing more. I decided to call it a night. Tony went out with some of his friends while Stephanie and I went to the Internet to look up tropical storms. After a little searching we had it. Tropical storm Linda struck one hundred miles north of Fort Myers on October 7th 1991. That was it, a date within days of an attack. We had two things to give to the States Attorneys tomorrow. Theodore Wilson II asked for it and we were able to produce it.

The next morning I called States Attorney Clark as soon as I arrived at work, I told him what we had come up with and how we determined the dates. He sounded extremely pleased and appreciative that we had given it another try. He knew we were not pleased with putting our son through this over and over.

Later that day I dropped the information off. Brent Clark had wanted me to write it down for him so he could use it as evidence later. He told me I didn't have to appear at the next hearing, nothing was going to happen. I said I knew that but I would be showing up at every hearing or court appearance from now on.

He didn't really seem to understand, but said he did. Maybe I was going overboard, but it was something I had to do. I wanted to report back to Tony what really happened. Not what I was told happened. It's not that I didn't trust the States Attorneys more like they candy coated some facts. Sometimes to make it, what they considered, easier on the victims. I wanted the facts and the truth.

* * *

November 23rd started as any other workday, waking up from another disturbed sleep, looking into the mirror and seeing this older man with bags so big under his eyes that they could no longer pass through as carry-on luggage at any airport. Going over in my head everything that could possibly go wrong again but still hoping beyond hope that this would be the day Motter would plea guilty and it would all be over.

After I showered and put on my uniform I went downstairs for some fruit and tea. My stomach was upset so I settled for a light breakfast. Stephanie was seated across from me, "Are you sure you should go to court today? You look very stressed and tired already."

"I have to go. I want everyone involved, on both sides, to see I'm there and I'm listening. I can't let Tony down again. I will be there throughout." I knew it was taking a toll on me but I was not going to stop.

A kiss good-bye and a promise of a phone call after court and I was out the door, in my car, and on the move. The drive to work was usually a pleasant time of my day. Listening to music, typically to set my mood, was always fun. Today the radio personalities were very funny. They had made an "out of the blue" phone call to Toby Keith. His voice sounded as if he either just got up or wasn't quite all there yet. But being very gracious he continued to talk to them. It was in fact; so interesting and funny, it made me forget about the day ahead of me. Next thing I knew I was pulling into the county parking garage and parking my car just as they were saying good-bye. I was still chuckling, as I was about to turn off my car. When Toby Keith's song, "Beer For My Horses" came on. I turned it off just as Toby and Willie Nelson sang, "Hang 'em high in the tree", which is just what I wanted for Motter.

I started work without any problems. I had already asked if I could get a few hours off, which was granted. These short court calls lasted only thirty to sixty minutes, sometimes less, but I always asked for more just in case.

The television monitors in the room where I work over see the entire courthouse. There are cameras in the elevators, in the courtrooms, and in the hallways. Corporal

Jillian Monroe had one of them set on the hallway outside my courtroom and another set on the inside of the courtroom. She wanted to "keep an eye on me" as she put it. She knew how upset I was. How upset anyone would be. The time came for me to go. I had to put on my personal jacket to hide my uniform as I always had done.

I went up the escalator to the fifth floor. As I approached the fifth floor I observed Jeffrey Motter and his parents and brother. I walked quickly and quietly past them. No sense in starting something now. I entered the courtroom, which was almost empty except for a few people sitting in the front row watching two attorneys argue a point in front of the Judge. The defendant was an inmate, dressed in an orange jump suit. He stood off to the side of his attorney. As I sat down I could hear some of the argument.

"Your Honor," the defendant's attorney stated, "Surely you must see by my clients past court dates he has always shown up."

"Your Honor," countered the States Attorney, "His client is incarcerated. He has nothing else to do but show up."

"Judge, I object. Council knows I am speaking of when he was out on bail. He doesn't have to insult my client just because he doesn't have enough money to arrange for bail."

Yeah, I thought, not enough money for bail and to pay your fee.

"Your Honor, Mr. Hernandez broke into the victim's house, robbed the victims, then for no thinkable reason, terrorized their children, ages five and seven. For this reason the State is asking for a denial of bail." The States Attorney was good. He emphasized just the right words, using the infliction of his tones to strengthen his point. But what would the Judge say?

"Council, due to the many different levels of this particular matter I have to weigh several aspects. How much was taken in the robbery. The breaking into a house to commit this alleged crime. But also, and to me, a very large part of this alleged crime is the fact that if Mr. Hernandez is released now, how safe would the children feel? Considering all of these matters I am going to refuse the consideration for bail. Deputy, please take Mr. Hernandez back to jail."

The older woman sitting in the front row started to cry. "Please Judge, let my boy go." The Judge tried to ignore her and went on with his business. Her boy, I thought, her little boy. How many times did her little boy frighten other really good little boys? I was happy the Judge saw through it. Now if he could just keep up his good judgment for a little while longer.

The Judge then announced, "Call the next case."

"The State verses Jeffrey Motter."

Motter's attorney's assistant, Arnold Kukec, told the Judge, Mr. Motter and his attorney Mr. Wilson were in the hall and he would go out and have them step in. Kukec was gone about three minutes. They all entered the courtroom, one after the other. There was Jeffrey Motter, Wilson, Kukec, Motter's parents, and his brother, one big happy family. I could spit in any one of their eyes.

Motter took his usual position at the table, to the left of Wilson, with Kukec to Wilson's right. Motter's parents and his brother Mark Motter sat in the second row, directly behind Jeffrey Motter. Patricia Motter, Jeffrey's mother, looked straight at me, eye to eye. I was thinking, "For a woman in her upper sixties or seventies, she sure embraces a lot of hate." It was more than a look; it was a glare, the hate was just shooting out of her eyes. She wanted to let me know in no uncertain terms, she hated me.

"I'm sorry Your Honor," started Wilson. "My client and I were just going over a few things for today's hearing. We are ready to start, if the State is now ready."

Judge Peterson looked over at States Attorney Brent Clark. Clark replied, "We are ready, have been ready, it was Mr. Wilson who was not in the courtroom when the case was called."

Hey, that was pretty good, a States Attorney with some balls. I was very wary as to what would happen with the case. I knew both sides had their agendas to follow but after all this time I was tired of being the one always, and it did feel like always, being the one to give into Wilson's demands.

"It appears here we are up on a status check. I see the State has delivered to you, Mr. Wilson, a corrected time layout of the alleged occurrences. Is that correct?" Judge Peterson asked.

"We have received some papers from Mr. Clark and they appear to have dates written on them, however, since I have just received this, I have not had time to look it over and talk with Jeffrey concerning what it says. We will do this at our first available time. I would like to ask Mr. Clark, if this is the best the complainant could do? Will this be the end so that Jeffrey won't have to continue to try and remember where he was on all those dates, if there are any dates? Or is it to simply remain over all those years?"

I was again sitting there fit to be tied. We are putting Jeffrey through too much. My son has to relive these attacks over and over but Jeffrey does not like having to think about it. I wanted to get up and scream, "BULLSHIT."

"What we would be asking for today is a new status date to ascertain if the paperwork we received today will be to our satisfaction." The amazing thing to me was that whenever Wilson asked a question or made a statement, he did it with a straight face.

Judge Peterson asked both the State and Wilson which days would be good for them. The next date was set for December 14th, at nine-thirty a.m. I opened my calendar and placed the date in it. Wilson, Motter, and his group got up and started for the door. I decided to wait.

After about ten minutes I left the courtroom. As I entered the hallway I observed Theodore Wilson II and Motter's family standing to my right, approximately fifty feet down the hall. To my left I saw Jeffrey Motter, standing alone looking at me. He started walking towards me and I towards him.

It was at this time, my boss; Corporal Jillian Monroe was looking at the hall monitor facing the outside of my courtroom. She could see both Motter and me. She saw that we were walking straight towards each other and that our eyes appeared to be locked onto each other.

"No Timmy, no. Keep walking. Don't do it," Monroe yelled watching the monitor screen. With this everyone else in the room looked up at the monitor.

"He's going after him," Danielle Lee said.

They were all too far away to physically do anything to stop me if I wanted to do anything to Motter. Our steps kept getting closer. We were only three feet away from each other. I could see in his eyes there was something going on in his head. Was it to hit me? Will he spit at me? Will he say, "I'm sorry"? Didn't matter, wouldn't matter. What this man did to my son...

We were now passing each other, both passing on the others right side. Our heads turned as we watched each other walk by. It was like slow motion. My breathing was deep and heavy.

Up in the control room Monroe was anything but in control. She again was shouting, "Keep going, and don't stop now. Get back down here."

I did continue to pass and never looked back. But before I could reach the escalator I was second guessing myself. Should I have gone after him? How could I just walk by and not attack him? I put my foot on the escalator and started my decent to the second floor and back to the control room. It was over, good, bad, or indifferent, today was over.

As I entered the control room Monroe said, "I'm glad you didn't stop. I was screaming at you to keep walking."

"Oh, that was what I heard? Just sounded like a screech to me," I laughed but then added, "seriously, thanks for watching. I didn't even know what I was going to do." Monroe gave me a hug. I was again completely drained emotionally. Wouldn't this be over soon? Couldn't this please, be over soon?

* * *

The next few months went forward with no changes, just some maneuvering between the defense and States Attorneys. But finally a date was set for hearings. The date would be March 1st, a real first in this whole trial as something was actually going to happen. States Attorney Brent Clark told me that on March 1st the case would move forward. He wanted to have a meeting with Tony, Stephanie, and me. We set a date for February 20th. He would tell us at that point who would be testifying from both sides and what the testimony would be in reference to.

I went home to tell Stephanie and Tony what was going to happen. When I told Tony he didn't have much of a reaction. He was just happy it was finally moving on. Stephanie wasn't much different, except of course for the screaming. "It won't go. You just wait and see. Everything is set up to delay this trial and this pedophile still walks the streets a free man possibly harming other children."

"I know what you're saying but this time, even the Judge wants to get on with it." I was still trying to defend the system because I knew this time we had a date set for the suppression hearing. These were the statements and other pieces of evidence Motter and his attorneys did not want to go to trial. He wanted them to be removed from the evidence the jury would hear.

"This is not about us. This is not about the crime. This is about keeping a guilty person out of jail for as long as the system will allow it. This is about a defense attorney making as much money as he can off of our sons anguish," Stephanie said.

"I'm not saying anything different than you, however, it will proceed." I knew this ripped deep into Stephanie as it did for me too, but I had to believe it was on its way to being over.

* * *

February 20th arrived as any other day did. The household was quiet as we prepared to sit down once again with Brent Clark and Gary Wagner our two States Attorneys, who I honestly believed wanted this case over but not at the cost of missing anything or having something, go wrong and losing it. Tony was asking what would be discussed today. Even though I basically knew what the procedure would be I thought it best to have the States Attorneys tell it their way.

The day was extremely cold but the sun was shining bright. I started the car to warm it up. I looked at the trees in our front yard. They were glistering with new fallen snow from last night. My vision was that of a million tiny cameras flashing as the sun bounced off each flake. Each day is filled with wonder, God's greeting to you every morning with the sunrise and His equally beautiful painting of the sky at night. Just makes you glad to be alive.

We all entered the car and headed off to the States Attorney's Office. There was only small talk on the drive. I could feel Tony's apprehension about having to talk about his ordeal again. But we were moving on.

I had a small list of questions to ask States Attorneys, Clark and Wagner. But the most important to me was, this is the start of being over, it will go for sure.

When we arrived at the States Attorney's Office we sat in the waiting area for States Attorney Clark or Wagner to take us back to their office or a meeting room. Brent Clark showed up after about a fifteen-minute wait. We walked through the congested States Attorney's Offices, approximately sixty cubicles of States Attorneys some with the same types of cases others with many different types of cases. We settled in a meeting room. There were two pictures on the wall showing attorneys before the bench with a Judge appearing to be in deep thought. A large table roughly seven feet wide and thirty feet long. Twenty-five chairs surrounded the table with eight more along the wall. Other than those items the room was empty.

As we walked in States Attorney Gary Wagner was seated at the table. He was sitting about in the middle of the table with one chair next to him pulled out and three chairs across the table pulled out. Brent Clark motioned for us to have a seat across from them. Everyone sat down. Clark asked if we wanted anything to drink. We had brought diet Cokes with us and just placed them on the table.

"Well folks," Clark started, "we should find out very soon how they will be presenting their case. They have objected to the confession, the tape of his confession, the testimony of Sammy Bowlinger and Ken Saucer, all the photos off the computer including the pictures taken of other boys by him, the pictures he took of Michael Sampson, his statement to his mother at the car, basically everything we have on him. He wants his trial now in a hearing to see how it will go."

"But we feel we have a very, very strong case and do not intend to lose any of our evidence," Wagner said. "Everything was done completely by the book in this case so we are confident the Judge will rule in our favor."

"This is not to say we are not going to be thorough in presenting our case," Clark interjected. "I always go by the theory you never know what will happen."

"Who will you be calling to the stand?" I asked.

Clark answered, "We are planning to call Officers Matthew Williamson, Dominic Hattle, and Bill Wasmiak, also Detectives Evan Tonka and Paul Hennesey, Sammy Bowlinger, Ken Saucer, and possibly Michael Sampson."

"Who will they have?"

"At this time," Clark started, "they have four witnesses but they haven't yet advised us who they would be. We believe it will be Motter's mother and father and possibly his sister. But that last one remains a mystery, maybe he will go on the stand."

"I can't believe they would put Motter on the stand," I said.

"Well, we would be very limited of the questions we could ask. It would depend where they would take us," Clark said.

Wagner added, "But I would welcome any opportunity to question him. Let the Judge see what kind of person he is. That could help us down the line."

"Let's not go there," said Clark. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"So at the hearing Tony won't have to testify?" I asked.

"No. He won't even have to be there. As for that matter, neither will either of you. But, of course, you are both welcome to show up," Clark stated.

"Why are we here today?" I asked.

"We wanted to go over a few things with all of you and to tell you what was going to happen. I know you know this Tim, but for your wife and son to understand we felt it important to tell them."

The meeting continued for an hour and a half basically going over the same things as before. Making sure our story hadn't changed. The good thing we had going was our story was the truth; we didn't have to remember any lies, which is where most stories go bad.

Finally the time had come. Clark asked the question, "Do you have any other questions?"

I had to ask, "Will it go for sure? Is this the beginning of the end?"

"You can never say anything is for sure in this business. But I can say we are ready, the Judge is ready, and he wants to move this case. So I would say it should go. March 1st is right around the corner. We will see then."

I listened and deep down I knew that was going to be the answer, however, I knew it was not going over well with Stephanie. Leaving was quick and empty. A hollow feeling really, like nothing had transpired for the last two hours.

Walking out to the car Tony seemed relieved. He didn't have to go over everything again. I knew, as I always reminded myself, I was walking next to a very brave boy. Even Stephanie was somewhat subdued. Now all we had to do was wait until March 1st.

As I looked around the snow still glistened on the tree branches and in the bushes. What we needed to do was take in this day we had together, "Hey, how about Papa Joeys for some pizza?" A resounding all right engulfed my ears.

***

I woke up March 1st without the help of an alarm. This was due to the fact I hardly slept at all. I tossed and turned so much that I kept Stephanie awake as well. But she had

told me she would not have been able to sleep anyway. There was just too much on our minds.

We arrived at the courthouse at eight-thirty; the hearing was to begin at nine-thirty. I drove with Tony in the front passenger seat and Stephanie in the back. I walked through the security pass line with Tony and Stephanie going through regular security. As I waited for them to clear security I didn't want eye contact with other deputies. I sometimes still got choked up talking about the case.

Deputy Charles Brown saw me standing on the side and made his way over to me. "Timmy, I heard your hearing was today. Good luck. You know, I still don't know why you just didn't pop him. That's what I would have done."

"Yeah..." my voice just trailed off. You may have done that but I couldn't even smack the guy when we passed in the hallway. What's wrong with me? Thinking about it I could easily get a weapon into this building.

Stephanie and Tony were now walking up to me. "Well, got to go." I walked away from Deputy Brown and went up the escalator with Stephanie by my side and Tony one-step down.

We reached the fifth floor and proceeded to courtroom 5005. We were early by about a half an hour. I took the lead and sat in the first row behind the States Attorney's table. There was no sign of Motter or any of his family.

We sat there for over two hours, through several other motions for new status dates. How well I knew of this maneuver. There were breaks and an occasional inmate brought before the Judge.

Tony was growing impatient and was asking if he didn't have to be there could he leave. I told him he could leave at any time. He stepped outside the courtroom to call his girlfriend to come and pick him up. When he came back into the courtroom he said, "I know where Jeffrey and his parents are. They are out in the hallway."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Nothing was said. But will you walk me out when I leave?"

"Not a problem."

After about fifteen minutes Tony received a vibration on his cell phone. "She's here."

"Let's go," I said.

We walked past everyone standing in the hall; both Tony and I were looking straight ahead, no words, no eye contact. Leaving the building I saw Tony's girlfriend parked in the parking lot, sitting in her car waiting for Tony. "You okay?" I asked before I left him cross the outside sitting area to the parking lot.

"I will be, once I'm out of here." He turned as he walked away and gave me a smile. I was glad he was getting out.

I re-entered the building. Walked right through the security bypass and started up the escalator.

Back in the courtroom Stephanie's eyes caught mine as soon as I walked through the door. They were ready to start. The case had already been called and all the attorneys and Jeffrey Motter were in front of the bench.

I could hear Motter's attorney, Theodore Wilson II, saying, "Judge, we have interested people in the courtroom with us here today and I want them admonished if they are permitted to stay."

"They will be allowed to stay. To everyone in this courtroom with an interest in this case, I will remind you, what is discussed here today can not be discussed with anyone else involved in this case. Are both sides ready to begin?" the judge asked.

"We are Your Honor," replied both sides.

"Then let's begin"

Stephanie and I looked at each other and without saying a word, it was said through our eyes, "It's starting."

The State started by calling their first witness, "Would Detective Evan Tonka take the stand?"

Tonka entered the courtroom and walked up to the witness box. He stopped, standing in the box, raised his hand, ready to take the oath, after which he sat down.

States Attorney Brent Clark started by asking the foundation questions. Who are you, where are you employed, for how long? He then went into the night he was called and the subsequent days of interviews.

He testified to discussions he had with Tony, Stephanie and I. He told of how he investigated Motter prior to his arrest and of being at the police station for the arrest, confession and at Motter's house for the search. He stated under oath as to how Motter was approached on the day investigator Paul Hennesey and he saw Motter and his nephew playing outside his house prior being taken into the police station for questioning. How Motter was transported to the station. How he was treated once at the station. How he signed the consent to search form and answered the detectives it was all right to record him.

There were many other details added to his testimony as the Judge listened to them all.

This took a little over an hour to complete. Then Theodore Wilson II had his opportunity to question Tonka, and twist everything he had said.

First Wilson started with the fact Hennesey and Tonka had a "plan" to trick Motter into saying something incriminating against himself even though it wasn't true.

"There was no plan, other than to investigate the allegations of Tony Carver," was Tonka's answer.

"You were asking incriminating questions, were you not? Questions that would be used against him." Wilson asked the question then waited for the answer. He was however, unconcerned about the answer as he was already formulating the next question to ask.

"Yes," Tonka responded.

"Had you given Jeffrey his Miranda rights?"

"No."

"So let me get this straight. You asked him questions you knew you would be here today testifying to. Questions which could incriminate him, if he had ever done any of these allegations, and you took it upon yourself not to give him his Miranda warning?"

"I do not understand the question," was Tonka's retort. "It seems as you asked me more than one question."

Good for Tonka. This was a trick attorneys used to get you to say one answer then apply it to the second part of the question. Tonka was too sharp for that. Plus he knew legally, he wasn't required to give Motter his Miranda rights yet.

"Did you know you would be using what he said against him?"

"Yes."

"Let's get to the time at the station. Did Motter know he was under arrest?"

"He wasn't"

"He was free to leave at any time?"

"Yes."

"How did he get there?"

"He was sitting in the front seat of an unmarked squad car. He was not handcuffed."

"How long were you there?"

"I would say, approximately ninety minutes."

"Did you offer him a drink?"

"No."

"Did you offer him a break in-between the interview?"

"No."

I leaned over and whispered to Stephanie, "Did you offer him an ice-cream cone?" The questions were just stupid in my mind but I was no attorney. But then I did get interested in the questioning.

"Do you know the victim's father?" asked Theodore Wilson II.

Tonka thought on the question for a second or two. He was wondering where this line of questioning was leading. He then answered, "Yes."

"He is, in fact, a close friend of yours, correct?"

"He is."

"He worked with you at the police department and was one of your training officers, correct?"

"Yes."

"He helped with your police career, did he not?"

"He and others."

"Isn't it true that you would do almost anything for him to help him out?"

"I object, Your Honor. Where is council going with this?" States Attorney Brent Clark asked.

"I withdraw the question." Wilson continued with, "Would you lie for him?"

This caused Clark to spring from his chair, causing it to strike the partition between him and the gallery where we were all seated. "Your Honor," he bellowed out, "this is outrageous."

"Mr. Clark, I understand your emotion, however, I will allow the question." The Judge looked away from Mr. Clark and turned his attention to Detective Tonka. "Detective, please answer the question."

Brent Clark looked back at his partner, Gary Wagner then let out a sigh of defeat. He could do nothing other than sit back down after retrieving his chair.

I realized where this was going. I had set this all up. I called my friend; I knew the investigating police officers. I knew them all. I helped train them all. They would do as I said. This wasn't any further from the truth. No one would jeopardize his or her careers for me or anyone else. It was my department I knew them all. The crime happened there.

They were making me the bad guy.

"No," answered Tonka, "I would not be here today if I had to lie."

The questioning continued for thirty more minutes. As I sat there I was becoming more and more upset with Mr. Wilson. I knew he would make sure Motter received a fair trial, but he was going to attempt to get him off. The words I heard so many times came back to me, "if that was my son, Motter would be dead." Did I do the right thing?

Next to testify were officers Matthew Williamson and Dominic Hattle. They both testified that they were standing by the squad car when Jeffrey Motter's mother came up to the squad and he said, "Mom, I molested Tony Carver."

Wilson countered with the questions, "Are you sure of that wording? Could he have said, 'They think I molested Tony?' Had he been given his Miranda rights?"

They both answered they were positive of the wording. In fact, Officer Williamson stated, "I will never forget those words, ever."

Neither was sure if he had received his Miranda rights prior to that time.

Bill Wasmiak took the stand next. He was sworn in then sat down in the chair. States Attorney Gary Wagner stood up walked towards Wasmiak then stopped and started the questioning. After several minutes of background questions into his expertise of collecting evidence he asked, "Did you have a consent to search form signed by Mr. Motter and was he present for that search?"

"Yes."

"He was aware of what you were going to remove items from the house. His computer, any pictures you located, basically any evidence related to this case?"

"He was aware and he stood within feet from where all the evidence was removed from."

"Did he ever say stop, don't take that?"

"Never. He watched and just stood there. Not saying much at all, if anything."

"Were any pictures found?"

"Yes, several. Some were pictures of a young boy approximately fifteen, naked seated in a chair, in the state of sexual arousal."

"I show you a picture, marked exhibit number five. Is this that picture you just described?"

"Yes."

Mr. Wagner then showed Mr. Wilson the picture. Wilson barely looked at it as he used his hand to eliminate the picture from being placed in front of him. Seemed he could defend the man that took the pictures but he didn't want them to actually exist.

"Do you know the age of the boy when the picture was taken?" asked Wagner.

"Your Honor, I object. These pictures are not part of this case. In fact, I'm told the boy in the pictures says nothing happened to him. Only that the picture was taken after he walked out of the shower," Wilson declared.

"Your Honor," Wagner shot back, "these pictures show what this defendant was doing with and to young boys at his house. It's true he never admitted to any sexual relations with the defendant, but that doesn't mean they did not occur."

"Your Honor," Wilson cut Wagner off, "there were never any complaints issued with this boy as the victim. Other than this out of context picture, nothing ever occurred with this boy of any criminal nature."

"Your Honor, I'd have counsel take another look at the photograph." Wagner was now looking directly at Wilson and not the Judge. "The boy is in the state of sexual arousal. Can he not see that? Or doesn't he want to see it. Either way it is there for him to see, if he would only open his eyes to look at the picture."

"Your Honor..." started Wilson.

"Enough. This started with a question about the boys age, I am going to let the witness answer, if he in fact knows the age." The Judge was upset. It was the first time he showed his temper during any of the proceedings. The first time being upset and he was siding with the state. Seemed like a good thing in my opinion.

Officer Wasmiak answered, "Detective Tonka interviewed the boy and found out he was fifteen at the time."

"Object, hearsay," rolled off of Wilson's lips.

"Sustained," Judge Peterson ordered.

"Where was this picture located?"

"It was found in the top drawer of the defendant's desk in his bedroom."

"Was he present when you found it?"

"Yes, he was. I showed it to him. He just put his head down, and then shook it slowly from side to side."

Wasmiak went on to testify he removed a computer, numerous photographs, as well as taking several photographs of the defendant's bedroom. States Attorney Wagner entered into evidence the list of items taken in the search. Mr. Wilson already had the list but stared at it for at least five minutes as if this was his first time seeing the list.

"Your witness." Wagner was done. He retrieved the information he needed from Wasmiak. Now it was Wilson's turn.

Wilson battered Wasmiak for twenty minutes trying every way he could to get Wasmiak to change his story. What Wasmiak had going for him was it wasn't a story, it was the truth. Wilson gave up and Wasmiak walked off the witness stand.

Officer Wasmiak's eyes met mine as he walked from the witness chair past the pews where I was seated. He closed his eyes slowly and slightly bowed his head. He then reopened his eyes as he passed me. I wasn't sure exactly what the movement had meant but I was sure it was an out of respect move. I tilted my head down then back up as he passed.

The state then said it would rest. It was now up to Jeffrey Motter's attorney, Theodore Wilson II to continue. States Attorney Brent Clark had told me that Wilson anticipated to call four witnesses. I knew two would have to be his mom and dad, probably his sister but didn't have a guess as to the fourth. Could it be Jeffrey himself? The defendant rarely takes the witness chair at trial, but this was not a trial, this was a motion.

Finally it was time to start. Attorney Wilson II said, "Your Honor, the defense would call Herman Motter."

Herman Motter, Jeffrey's father, walked in from the hallway where he had been waiting to be called. He walked directly to the witness stand and was sworn in. The Judge told him to have a seat, at which time Herman Motter sat down.

Attorney Wilson II opened by asking his name and relationship to Jeffrey. After going through several other basic questions Wilson asked, "Were you home on the day a search warrant was issued for your house?"

"No," was the answer.

"It is your house is that not correct? And you and your wife own it?" Wilson asked.

"That is also correct."

"Was it ever your son's, Jeffrey, home"?

"No."

"Was he living there at the time? Was this his main abode or was he living somewhere else and only visited from time to time?"

I leaned over and whispered to Stephanie, "They are going to say he didn't live there so he had no authority to grant a search of the house."

Jeffrey's father replied, "He has a home in Florida where he lives. He visits only a couple times a year."

Lies, all lies I wanted to shout. He's protecting his son. Lying for him. I could understand this if the crime wasn't so hideous. Want to get him help, yes but lie for him?

"Did you ever notice Jeffrey having a number of friends that were children?"

"No."

I was livid. Everyone knew he had friends that were kids. I knew it but never thought he would have been abusing them. All lies.

When the State questioned Herman Motter they asked if his son had a room down stairs in their basement that was considered his, Jeffrey's. Did he not stay in this room always? Every time he did stay at the house this is where he would stay and hadn't

Jeffrey told both him and his wife to stay out of that room?

Herman Motter answered no to all the questions. Just the way he was probably prompted to answer.

His last question went back to the lead question. "You say you were not at your home when the searched warrant was served. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever show up?"

"Yes, my wife had called me and told me to get right home the police had taken over our house. When I arrived I told them to get out of my house."

"And did they?"

"No. They kept taking items out. Walking right by me. Then it was over."

"Thank you Mr. Motter. You have been very helpful in clearing up some muddied situations."

"Mr. Motter," States Attorney Gary Wagner continued, "so that I have your testimony correct, you say your son Jeffrey never had a bedroom in your basement? Not even as a child?"

"Well when he was a kid he stayed down there."

"So it is a fact he did have a bedroom in the basement? And it is also a fact, as an adult, when he came to visit he stayed there?"

"I'm not sure, but I guess sometimes he could have stayed there."

"You say, Mr. Motter that you were not home when the search warrant was being served and carried out?"

"Correct'"

"And when you arrived home you told the police to stop. Is this not correct?"

"Yes."

"Who did you tell? Which police officer? Where was he standing?"

"There were so many, I don't know who it was."

"Did the police officer acknowledge you, you know, as if he heard you?"

"No, he never even looked at me."

"Could it have been he didn't ever hear you?"

"I said it loud enough."

"But the officer never, in any way acknowledged you, correct?"

"Correct."

"I have nothing further of this witness, Your Honor."

States Attorney Wagner had done a great job in his cross-examination. At least, I felt so.

The next to be called by Mr. Wilson II was Jeffrey's mother. As she came into the room she searched the pews to find me. If looks could kill someone should have called 911 because her eyes were piercing right through me. But I also observed how fragile she was as she climbed the stair to the witness box. How at the beginning I had felt sorry for her as this would certainly upset her whole family also. But then I remembered how she now blamed me for all her son's problems. How it was my fault and she had no compassion for my family.

She was also asked the basic questions, her name, where do you live et cetera, then she was asked about the search. She stated she wasn't there, then retracted the statement saying she was there. She stated she was out by the car when her son said he molested Tony. Then she paused and said she hadn't been there and no one had said that. It was very clear she was confused. She either couldn't remember what had occurred or she couldn't remember what she had been told to say.

States Attorney Wagner never even cross-examined her.

When Jeffrey's sister testified it was mostly as a character reference.

Everyone waited as the next witness was called. To all of our amazement it was Jeffrey Motter. The state had hoped for this as they could ask him direct questions. Knowing they would be limited but still the opportunity was now there. No one was more shocked than I was. I was so glad I would get to hear him for myself. Would there be remorse? Would he be saddened? Or the monster I was becoming to know.

***

Jeffrey Motter was indeed taking the stand. His attorney, Theodore Wilson II, called Jeffrey Motter's name to take the stand. He stood up from the desk looked at his attorney Wilson, then at his mother. He then proceeded towards the witness stand. I wasn't sure if his mother even saw him look at her as she was still staring directly at me. He stopped and stood next to the witness chair to be sworn in. He said he would tell the truth, I guess we would see. I had my doubts.

It started out very monotonous. State your name and your age. Your address was somewhat amusing as he gave a Florida address. Eventually we arrived at some questions I wanted to hear. I moved up to the edge of my seat to listen. I also had a pen and piece of paper in my hands to write down anything I felt relevant.

"Were you visiting your parent's house on May fourth 2005?" asked Wilson.

"Yes, I was," Replied Motter.

"At some point in time that day, were you playing outside with your nephew?"

"Yes. I always play with my nephews and nieces when I visit. We have a lot of fun together." As he answered he looked straight ahead at his attorney. He never once looked at anyone in the courtroom, including the judge.

"What happened next?"

"Well, at some point, I can't remember precisely when, because it happened so fast, but there were police officers in my yard standing right next to me."

"Did they announce themselves or call out to you?"

"No. They really frightened me. At first I didn't know they were police officers. I thought maybe they were there to harm or kidnap my nephew. I told my nephew get to the house now, which he did. He was standing at the door when I told him to get inside."
"Did the two men who are now right upon you ever inquire about the boy, your nephew? Such as, if there was someone was home to watch him?"

"No."

"What happened then?"

"I noticed one was a policeman I knew. He said you are coming with us. They then led me to their car, handcuffed me and placed me in the back seat. I didn't know what was happening to me."

"Were you free to go?"

"No. I couldn't open the door because my hands had been placed in handcuffs plus I had heard the automatic locks lock prior to the car starting."

"Did you ask what was going on?"

"No. I didn't say a word. I was still trying to figure out what was going on. Why they were doing, whatever it was they were going to be doing to me."

"Where did they end up taking you?"

"To the police station. They opened the car door and told me to head to the front door. I asked what was going on at that time. One of them said you are under arrest. I asked for what? They said I would find out. We walked into the station where the dispatcher had to mechanically open the door to a small room where I was placed."

Motter's voice was on the brink of sounding scared. He had been in that station and that particular room hundreds if not thousands of times when he worked there.

"What happened next?"

"They told me I molested Tony Carver. I told them I didn't. They said Tony said I did. He was having all sorts of psychological problems because of it. So if I admit to it he would probably heal quicker."

"So what did you do?"

"Well, Tony's a great kid so I said Okay. They said it will help so I said I would."

"Now, during this grilling..."

"Objection, Your Honor, the asking of questions is certainly not a grilling." Brent

Clark was quick to his feet with the objection.

"Council," the Judge said to Theodore Wilson, "could you use a different term in the question?"

"Certainly Your Honor, if it would please council. Now, Mr. Motter, during this interrogation," Wilson looked at Clark as if to say does this word please you, "were you ever asked if you needed to use the washroom?"

"No."

"Ever asked if you needed a glass of water?"

"No."

"A can of pop? Cup of coffee?"

"No."

"Then what happened, Jeffrey?"

"The detective, Hennesey, put a piece of paper in front of me and said to read and sign it. I asked what it was. He said my rights. I just signed it."

"Were you able to read that sheet of paper?" asked Wilson.

"No."

"What? You do read? Correct?"

"Yes. I didn't have my reading glasses."

"Did you know your rights?"

"No."

"After signing this piece of paper, that you did not know what it said, what occurred next?"

"They brought in a cassette recorder and taped me asking the questions they just asked me. It seemed to me they wanted to make sure what I would say before they put it on tape."

"And it was at this time, this tape, you said you molested Tony?"

"Yes."

"What next?"

"They said they were going to take my computer from my parent's house. They said they could take it so I signed another sheet of paper saying they could. They drove me back to the house and I asked if my mother could come out of the house so she would not be afraid of all the police walking through the door. When she was at the car door they lowered the window and I told her they said I molested Tony. They are going to take my computer."

Motter then took a long drink of water, waited a short time and continued. "They then went into the house and removed a large number of items. My father arrived home, he had been at work, and told everyone to leave his house"

"Did anyone leave?"

"No. Finally they did leave, when they said they were done. They took me back to the police station, booked me and drove me to DuPaca county jail."

"Thank you Jeffrey. Your witness."

The judge spoke up and requested a short recess. Stephanie and I walk out into the hall to stretch our legs and use the washroom. Since Motter and his family were also in the hall Stephanie asked me to walk with her.

As we walked back towards the courtroom I saw Motter seated on the benches that lined the hallway. They were wood benches, almost looking like pews from a church. He had his family and attorneys around him. It appeared they were comforting him. Yeah, he just had a very traumatic experience to relive. I felt so sorry for him. So sorry in fact I wanted to beat the guy senseless to forget the tragic occurrence. As I looked their way I saw the sinister eyes of Jeffrey's mother staring back at me. Keeping with her belief, if eyes could kill, I'd be lying on the floor.

We sat back down in the courtroom. The hearing started back up with Judge Peterson saying, "Mr. Clark, call your witness."

I had waited a long, long time for this. I saw how Motter had lied with his attorney, now I wanted to see the State tear apart his story and rip him up as well.

States Attorney Clark started slowly. He walked up to a podium with some hand written notes on a legal pad. He stared down at the paper he held in his hand for a short while then shook his head from side to side. Looking up he asked Jeffrey Motter, "You do remember you are under oath, don't you Mr. Motter?

"Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Clark does not have to insinuate my client isn't telling the truth."

"Your Honor, I'm not insinuating anything. Just reminding Mr. Motter after a break he is still under oath, that's all."

"This is correct Mr. Motter you are still under oath. Continue council." The judge did give a glance to Clark signifying not to push any envelopes. But I think Clark was pushing an envelope by referring to all the lies that had already come from Motter's mouth.

States Attorney Clark stood at the podium and placed his legal pad down on it. He stared at his legal pad for a minute, which seemed like hours, and for this minute nothing was being said. He smiled a little, gave his head a short shake from side to side then looked up at Jeffrey Motter. "You say you were visiting your parent's home that you, in fact, did not live there on May 4th 2005. Is that correct?"

"That is correct. I live in Florida." Motter replied.

"Are you employed, Mr. Motter?"

"Yes. I own my own electric business."

"And do you operate this business in Florida?"

Jeffrey stared straight ahead, not saying a word. Brent Clark asked the question again with the same response.

"Mr. Motter do you operate your business out of your parent's home? Isn't that where your office is? Isn't it true it is in the upstairs of a garage there? Come Mr. Motter, you must know that."

"I object, Your Honor. My client can't answer a question unless he is given the time to answer. Mr. Clark has just asked five questions in one sentence." Theodore Wilson was trying to save his client. He wanted to give him some time to regroup. Rethink his answers if that is what he needed.

"Your Honor, Mr. Motter can choose any question he wishes to answer. He is not answering anything. I would like Your Honor to admonish Mr. Motter that he is required to answer these questions."

"That is correct Mr. Motter you must answer the questions. And Mr. Clark... one question at a time." The Judge was always trying to be fair. Give the state something give the defense something. Seemed to me defense was getting far too much.

"Okay," Clark started again, "Is your business run out of your parent's home?"

There was still no answer. "Your Honor," Clark implored.

Motter stared straight ahead, not looking at the judge, Clark, not at anybody it seemed.

"Okay. Okay. We will move on to something else. On the day when the two police officers arrived at your home you were playing with your nephew, is this correct?"

"Yes." Motter answered.

"At some point you were asked to go to the police station. You asked to take the boy into the house and leave him with your mother or some other adult inside. Is that correct?"

"Yes, but they would not let me enter the house."

"How did they keep you out? Did they grab you on the arm? Step in front of you? How?"

"They said I couldn't go in."

"They used mere words then to keep you out?"

"Yes, but I would not use the word mere, they were the police."

"And then they took you to the police station?"

"Yes."

"This is the same police station you worked at," stated Clark. "For how many years did you work there, out of that particular police station?"

Jeffrey Motter again stared off into some distant place where he would not have to answer questions he didn't want to answer. It was becoming clear. If the answer could hurt his defense, he would not answer. States Attorney Brent Clark was getting upset and saw what was happening. We could only hope the judge was seeing it too.

"Okay." Clark was speaking with the sound of repulsion in his voice. "At some point you were in the police station that you had been in thousands of times while you were employed there, you were arrested and given a copy of your Miranda rights and also someone read them to you. Is this correct?"

"Yes. But I couldn't read them because I didn't have my reading glasses."

"But they were read to you?"

"Yes. But I didn't understand them."

"You worked at two police departments and you say you don't understand your rights?"

"I was never a full time police officer."

"You do watch television don't you. Every kid above the age of ten knows his rights because he's heard them on the television hundreds, if not thousands of times."

"I object, Your Honor. Mr. Clark is again talking down to my client trying to provoke him into saying something which is not correct."

Theodore Wilson II had just ran off a series of words that lost me after the first part of the sentence. Dazzle them with bullshit I thought. That's all you got.

"Both counsels please approach the bench," Judge Peterson requested.

"I want it to stop now. Do you both understand me?"

"Yes, Your Honor," was the answer that came back in unison.

Clark continued with Motter, "You didn't know what your rights were?"

The response from Motter was a solemn no.

"Do you know them now?"

"No."

"Did you ever admit to molesting Tony Carver?"

"No. They told me to say that before they were taping me. They said it would help Tony because he was having some kind of trouble. I did it for Tony. I never admitted to anything. I just said what they told me to say."

"Did you consent to the search of your house?"

"First, it's not my house. I never consented to anything."

"What about the consent to search form you signed?"

"I don't remember ever being told I was signing a form like that. Don't even know what it is. I did sign a paper but they said it was something about being able to go with them when they did search the house. I wanted to be there so I signed it."

"Then you were finger printed and transported to jail?"

"Yes"

"From the time you were approached at your home, how were you treated by any and all officers?"

"Fine."

"We rest Your Honor."

"Anything else Mr. Wilson?" the judge asked.

"No, Your Honor, we rest."

Jeffrey Motter arose from the witness chair and walked slowly back to the table, which his attorneys were seated at.

It was a bitter end for me. I don't know what I had expected. Perhaps a Perry Mason style of confession as Motter sat in the witness chair, but that did not happen. He sat there and lied through his teeth. Stephanie called it. He was a monster who for a short time when first arrested lost his calculated cunning. He now however, had it back and was going to fight all the way to correct the truths he told. And change them all to lies.

We waited to speak with Clark as he filed papers with the court. We were told it should move along now. The trial would be set for sometime in June. Stephanie just looked at me and rolled her eyes. "But he's still free." She said under her breath as we turned to walk out.

***

We walked to our car, which was parked, on the third floor of the parking garage. I unlocked the doors and we both sat down in the car. Neither of us had spoken as we walked through the courthouse to the garage. Now we sat looking at cars parked next to us, people walking by, or we just looked at the cement wall of the garage.

I leaned forward and put the key into the ignition but did not turn the key to start the car. I then sat back in the seat. I slowly closed my eyes as I thought what an atrocity this whole process has been. And it wasn't over yet. Hell the trial hadn't even started. We were no nearer to a finish than we were on that first night when we learned of this hideous crime. A tear welled up in my eye then found its way to the corner of my mouth where I could taste the salty liquid as my tongue licked it away.

Finally Stephanie spoke, "How are you doing?"

I'm not sure if she saw the tear or heard me quickly sucking in breath. Just the thought of what I was thinking took my breath away. "I'm all right. Like you, I just want it over. It is starting to completely consume me. Not just sometimes but all the time. I'm also having dark thoughts of how to make it end. Not just for us but I can only imagine what Tony's going through."

"Stop. I don't want to hear about dark thoughts. Dark anything. My nerves are at an end. I can't take anymore. I need you to be there for me. I need to lean on you. I need to hold you."

With that she leaned over in the seat placed her arms around my neck and brought her head slowly, tenderly against mine. I turned towards her to give her a warm, soft kiss, which I did. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts go. It was just us. The way we had started.

As I opened my eyes I looked out the back window. There standing about ten feet behind my car were Jeffrey's parents. Not only looking right at us but Patricia Motter stood there pointing her finger at our car. I couldn't even have one moment of peace. "Why don't you fucking people die?" I said under my breath.

"What?" Stephanie said as she turned to see what I had been looking at. She then started crying. Her shoulders bounced up and down. Her head moved from side to side, as she said over and over, "No, no, no, no."

I held her as close as I could in the front seat of a car. As I brushed the bangs of her hair back over her eyes I looked out the rear window again. There was no one. Were they ever really there or was our imagination running away with us?

I looked up and down the parking isle. Only a few people I had never seen before. "They're gone," I said with a smile on my lips as she looked at me. "We are going to be all right. We are going to make it. We are stronger than the evil itself."

I started the car, watching carefully as I backed up. Cognizant of the fact anyone can turn up behind me then say I ran them over. Of course, if that occurrence happened they would not be able to say I ran them over. As Captain Bligh said, "Dead men tell no tales."

***

When I arrived at work the next day everyone was interested in how it went. In between the radio traffic, phone calls, answering alarms and letting police officers from other counties and their prisoners into the security gates to allow them to get to court, I told them the story. At least I told them what I could. I still became emotional from time to time talking about it.

We had a variety of out of county prisoners that day, murderers, rapist, thieves, and the one I truly remember. That one came to the security gate in the plain white, unmarked van. Not the usual van or bus with the words "transporting prisoners" on the back. No, it was just a regular van. Not much different from one your neighbor would be driving except for, of course, the contents.

As this van pulled up to the gate for the secured area in which prisoners entered, the driver rang the buzzer to notify me someone was at the gate.

"Can I help you?" I responded to the ring.

"Yes. We have a resident for court." These words didn't really effect me a number of years ago, however now they made my skin crawl. After obtaining which courtroom the "resident" would be going to I opened the gate and waited for them to appear at the dock door where they would enter the courthouse.

I took the elevator to the lower level where the officers and the "resident" waited. I then brought them to the level we were located on, so that our officers could assist them to the proper courtroom. As they walked off the elevator I knew immediately what his crime had been. Why were they so easy to spot? Was it that look; his hair, the face, that body shape. Yes, there were some exceptions, but not many. Child molesters. Spot them a mile away. How did I miss it? How could I not see it before?

This one was now a "resident" that was being helped so that he could return to public living. They had done their short time for ruining some child's life. Now they were becoming part of society again, if the judge allowed. That's why they were not prisoners, but residents. So fucking politically correct.

His eyes met mine through the glass window that separated us. "Can you read my mind ass hole? Die just die. I would help you, if you need help. I offer you all the hate I can produce through out my body."

"Timmy. Open the door. Let them through." Corporal Jillian Monroe said to me.

"Sure, no problem," I said, "I would not want to inconvenience the piece of shit.

"Are you able to do your job with what you are going through? If it bothers you we could relocate you until after your son's trial." Monroe was really looking out for my best interest. Not wanting something or someone to put me in a position to be reprimanded. I was appreciative for the concern but would not let these maggots against society run or control my life. Not now, not ever.

"Just day dreaming Jillian, I'm on it." I opened the doors and they walked through, down the hall to the courtroom.

***

A few weeks had passed and I was getting concerned as time was again slipping away. Then I received word from the States Attorney's office that there would be a court date in two weeks to find out the judges decisions on the motions. This had to be good. It was moving along now better than I thought.

But I also received some bad news. I was being taken out of my work area because someone felt I shouldn't be that close to the inmates at this time. How close was I? There was a half inch piece of glass between us. I had asked if there was anything I could say or I could do not to be removed. I was told no.

It was all right that I was going into screening. I hadn't been there for a while and maybe a change would be good. Just didn't like how and why I was going.

***

Starting the next day I was in screening. I went to the front desk, which was a strange name for it as the building had been redone so now the old front doors were actually the back doors. So the front desk was in fact the back desk. Ah government.

I spoke with Corporal Phillip Pausey. I sometimes felt sorry for the guy. His name was always distorted, from palsy to pussy. But he was an okay guy. Although, a little on the edgy side. He had in his mind someone was out to get him. I don't think he even knew who "someone" was, but for that matter I didn't know whom someone was that put me in screening. So maybe, he was right, there was "someone".

"Long time no see Timmy. Remember where to go?" Pausey asked.

"Well as a matter of fact maybe you could show me."

"Not going to happen. You're on your own."

In all reality, I probably was off my skills as a screener. It had been many years since I was down here. I remember there were officers that could look at the television monitor as peoples property went through the conveyer belt and be able not only to tell if they had a cell phone but what brand it was. I never obtained that level of expertise.

We had the same setup, as did the airports. People were use to our procedures, probably due to the airports. Everyone removed everything from their pockets, took off jackets, removed jewelry and shoes. But you still said hundreds of times a day. "Yes, everything from your pockets means your wallet too."

I was sent to the east side to be blocker. There were three officers at every point of entry. One watched the monitor, one check electronic devices, and one hand scanned anyone who walked though the x-ray and magnetometer equipment when the alarm sounded.

I positioned myself between two officers. There was always at least one deputy at every station. Today I was working with two deputies. I knew both of them and when not working the chatter kept me laughing. When work was to be done we worked but when no one was around us, it was joke time or time to catch up on the rumors. Which I had always said, "Doesn't have to be true to be a rumor."

One thing you do get working in screening is a variety of people that come through. Keeping in mind not all people coming into a courthouse are bad. Some are witnesses, some victims, some getting divorced, and some going bankrupt, quite the variety.

Some come in wearing tee shirts while others are in three-piece suits. One young man around twenty came in wearing a tee shirt with "fuck the court" on the front and a handgun pointing off the back. Now, I'm thinking this young man is going before a judge. What can he be thinking? Before he walks through we offer him an option. He can take his shirt off and reverse it or he can leave. He's also told if you do reverse it and change it around again, so it can be read, you'll be arrested. It would be his choice.

He turned it around after some bitching about his right to freedom of speech. He received a short lesson in the law then walked in and up to his courtroom. Somehow I felt the boy wouldn't be leaving the same way he came. It may be by way of the jail, after the judge has an opportunity to speak with him.

The day went surprising fast and uneventful until a man in his thirties, maybe forty, walked up to the security entrance. He was dressed in a light gray suit jacket and dress slacks. The tie went perfectly with his shirt accenting both the jacket and the shirt just enough. His shoes sported a polishing that was straight out of boot camp. The gentlemen's hair was short cropped and salt and pepper in color. He had no glasses or facial hair. He walked with an air of arrogance, his demeanor sure and precise.

He carried a briefcase, which was made from the finest of leathers. You could tell money was not an object to him. He had made his way through life with money and now for whatever reason he was about to exercise his skill here at the courthouse. Perhaps he would be proceeding with paperwork for some business deal or perhaps in a courtroom, speaking very deliberately about his case.

He placed his briefcase on the conveyer belt and it proceeded to disappear behind the heavy shields of radiation protective material. He placed his wallet and the change from his pocket in a tray. "Is everything out?" I asked.

"Of course," the reply was short and immediate, "if you could just be a bit faster. I'm a very busy man and time is money."

The deputy behind the monitor stopped the movement of the belt. "Sir, do you have an electronic devise in your briefcase?"

A change came over the man, really more of a metamorphosis. He began stuttering, sweat came from his brow, and I believe he actually started gasping for breath.

"Oh, ah, I forgot. I am sorry. Let me go back to my car."

"I'm sorry sir but I will have to identify the object before you are allowed to leave with it." It was procedure to allow electronic devices into the building as long as they worked and we could identify them. The deputy asked the gentleman to walk through the x-ray and magnetometer equipment then remove the item and show it to me and turn it on.

By now a line was forming behind him because things had slowed down, as there was an unknown object inside his case. "Sir, please remove the item and turn it on for me," I said.

He unsnapped his case; looking around himself he asked if he could just show it to me and not turn it on. I was becoming concerned about what this item could be he did not want to show to anyone. "No, I must see it operate and find out what it is. Please remove it slowly so I can see it and only when I tell you, will you turn it on. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes. But it's nothing bad, it's just... well... here it is."

He places his hand into the case. Now everyone is watching. The people in the security line, both the deputies, and me. He pulls out an object approximately eight inches long, in the shape of a penis. It's a damn dildo. He starts claiming it's his girlfriends and starts to put it away. The first officer that was at the monitor says, "Hold on sir. Show the officer that it works."

"You're kidding?"

"Not on your life. Show him."

As he turns it on a slight hum begins to fill the room. Then the imitation penis started moving in a circular motion. If this man could have crawled into a hole, now would have been the time to go.

"Thank you sir and you have a wonderful day." I said as he quickly left our station. Unfortunately, he left before snapping his briefcase closed. All of its contents fell to the floor. A woman who was just passing by looked at his fake penis, then at him. The look of disgust was enough to cause him never to come back into the courthouse.

***

After six weeks of being in screening the higher-ups decided to return me to the tunnel. I was welcomed back with a box of donuts. It was the tried and true gift of awaiting poundage. The "positively sure" court date had long since passed and the same games of prolongation were ongoing.

Days at home ran hot and cold, chilled relations and volatile. You never knew what you were walking into. I came home on a particularly cold and cloudy day. The wind was blowing about twenty miles per hour, which made a cold day considerably colder.

I walked into the kitchen to find flour and what appeared to be pieces of the flour container lying on the floor. Stephanie came into the room. Her hair was tangled, face flush, eyes as red as the blood that ran through her veins. She looked at me then pulled a chair out from the table through the flour and stepped over the broken pieces of container.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Tim, I can't take it any longer. I'm at my end. Tony told me today if this doesn't end soon, he'd end it all for himself." She began to choke up. When she tried to talk again no words came out.

I knelt down beside her. My arms went around her head and shoulders. "Take your time," I told her. It was something we had plenty of. This case had consumed our lives and it was looking as if there was no end. It appeared nobody cared about what we were going through. The fire was always fueled with detestation for the whole process I permitted my family to become involved in. I should have known better. I should have steered a different course, a darker course. "What happened?"

"Tony said he was going to kill himself." She scarcely got the words out. She began crying so hard that she was gasping for breath. "I became so upset I threw the flour container and told him never to say that again."

"Where is Tony now?"

"He's in his room. He said he was sorry and didn't mean it." Then we both cried in each other's arms.

"I'm going to see how he is then I'll be back to clean this up." I went up to Tony's room and knocked on his door.

As I heard him say to come in I was already opening the door. He was lying on his bed; his head propped up with three pillows. "I'm sorry," he said.

I knew his frustration. At least I thought I knew. I felt it too. But then again his had to be stronger. Here he was trying to protect other children from going through what he did, only to find the offender still out on the street and no end in sight to put him away.

We sat in silence for awhile. Sometimes silence says more than any fumbled words could do. Finally I asked, "You are not going to hurt yourself, are you?"

"I'm sorry I said that. I didn't really mean it. Only it all seems so hopeless."

"Believe me I know. But it will end. We will win. He will be locked away. And we will all be there to see it, right?" Tony understood what I was saying.

"Yes. We will all be in the front row to see it."

I asked Tony if there was anything I could do for him then left his room and closed the door.

I went back to the kitchen where I found Stephanie already cleaning the flour up off the floor. I started picking up the broken pieces of the flour container. "I guess this means we go shopping tonight?"

Stephanie smiled then said, "Not tonight. Tonight we stay together, alone, away from the world. Please hold me."

I placed the broken pieces in the garbage then held her in my arms. I believe it was the tightest she had ever held me. It seemed she found protection from whatever it was that was scaring her in my arms. As far as I was concerned, she could have stayed there all night. And she did.

***

We had been talking for quite some time about going to Key West Florida. It had always been a get away for Stephanie and me. We both enjoyed the fact that people took you at face value. No one is looking for that edge or the return that they will receive from you at some time.

We had not been there for awhile due to the never ending pending of a trial. Now we also had in the back of our minds Tony's safety. But it was Tony who pushed the hardest we go.

"You guys have been here for me for a long time with this shit. You need, you deserve this trip."

After analyzing all the likely reasons to not go, we finally decided it would do us good. Tony had on his brave face and promised he wouldn't do anything bad. At least nothing he would not be able to clean up or have repaired by the time of our return.

We made the arrangements and had decided we would drive down from Miami. It was a nice four hour drive as long as you are not in a hurry. We weren't.

Three days before we were to leave Tony asked at dinner if we could place paper on all the windows. "I want you guys to go but I don't want anyone being able to look in at me. Jeff is still out there and I'm the one that is going to put him away. I don't want him to see I'm alone."

Stephanie immediately said, "We don't have to go Tony."

"No. You do have to go. I have something to prove to myself here."

"You do not have to prove anything." I said.

"I have to prove it's my life. I am in control, not Jeff. He will not rule my life nor do I want him to disrupt your lives anymore than he already has. I want you to go but I would like the paper on the windows.

"And you will have it," I said.

The next day Stephanie began placing paper on the windows. She didn't place paper on all the back windows as our house backed up to a forest preserve and we had a line of trees in our back yard. The street that ran between our lot and the forest preserve had become more traveled from when we first moved in. We had not trimmed the trees for awhile to be able to use them as cover from the roadway and forest preserve.

The city decided just before we left to trim the trees. Not only did they trim them they thinned them out, thus leaving gaping holes in-between the trees. When I saw what was done I called the city without delay.

I finally, after speaking with several other people, spoke with the supervisor. "I understand why you trimmed the trees near the sidewalk but why thin them out. They are my trees?"

"We have the right to trim or thin the trees or bushes if we feel they are encroaching the sidewalk or street. We felt yours were."

"I have always trimmed them but right now we have a situation going on and I wanted them as a cover to my back yard and my windows."

"We can not change the rules for everyone that has a situation going on."

I could feel my blood pressure rising as I tried to control myself. "Our son was a victim of a child molester. We used the trees to protect him. He felt safer with the cover."

"I'm so sorry. I never thought of that. Never had anything like this happen before."

And why should he know? This was our world, not his. No one else saw. Whoever drove by or walked by this house did not see what was happening inside its walls. It didn't show any changes from the outside, but on the inside it was a very different house than before.

"I don't know what to say. I did not know," the supervisor said.

There was nothing to say. It was done and he couldn't replace the tree or its branches. "It's okay. I just wanted you to know sometimes there our reasons out of the ordinary. Maybe check next time."

He again said he was sorry and hung up the telephone seemingly as dejected as I was feeling. I went inside and began helping Stephanie who was already placing more paper on the back windows. "Are you sure we should go?" I asked.

"I'm not sure of anything. But at some point we have to try and move forward."

We talked it over again with Tony who said he would be fine and the trip would do us good. To get away from it all would be a blessing, if we could leave it all behind.

In two days we were in the airport waiting in line for our seats. Boarding the aircraft felt good. Walking on with all the other passengers, I was thinking what is their story? We all had one. Were they on business, on vacation, running from something or running to something? I couldn't tell by looking at them and I was sure they couldn't tell by looking at me.

The flight was great; if you like what seemed like five hundred feet vertical drops, which, by the way, I do. I looked at it as a roller coaster ride I didn't have to pay for. Although I did notice, by the bags on some laps, not everyone held with my enjoyment.

We landed and picked up our convertible rent-a-car. It's the only way to drive the Keys. Sun on your face; wind in your hair. What could be better?

Somewhere about sixty minutes out, around Key Largo my cell phone rang. I told Stephanie to answer it. It was Brent Clark from the States Attorney's office. He wanted to know if we could come in and talk again about the times and dates of the offenses?

Stephanie explained to him we were on our way to Key West. He replied that it would be a good thing for us to get away. He was sorry he bothered us and told her we should have a good time.

It made us think of Tony and we gave him a call. "How's it going babe?" Stephanie asked. After a short pause she continued, "Great. Yes we are driving down now, maybe three more hours. Okay, if you need anything call."

She hung up and I asked what he had said. "He said for me to stop being a mom and just have some fun."

That was Tony. He was always thinking of someone else. I knew Stephanie could never stop being a mom. I guess with every mom, her children were at the top of the worry list. I was at the top of her support list but you can not bend the bond of a mother and child.

"Everything is fine." I said. I then placed my hand on her thigh and gave her a little squeeze. Instantly my mind tightened. It throbbed. That's what I use to do to Tony. That's what Motter use to do to Tony. "Not now," I said to myself. But I realized no matter where I go Motter will follow. Maybe, just maybe when this is over, it won't be this way. Maybe once he's gone. Maybe if he was gone for good.

About twenty minutes later my cell rang. It was Brent Clark again. "Sorry to bother you. We are trying to reach agreements with Motter's attorney, Theodore Wilson. Everything is starting to come together for the trial. We can't get a hold of Tony."

"And you are not going to. You go through me. You don't talk to him without me there." I said.

"Timmy, we are on your side, remember?"

"No one is on our side. Not you, not the system. If you were on my side this would have been over and done by now. Not making my son relive his pain. Not by letting a confessed pedaphile walk the streets and prey on other children."

I knew way back in my mind somewhere he was correct. They were doing what they could but the system, I was learning, was broke. With each day that went on it was breaking more. A victim's rights, they are not what mattered. Defendant's rights. There you go. Bingo. Where the hell did we go wrong?

"Sorry you feel that way but it's all we have. I'll honor your wishes and call you, not Tony. Did Tony know Sammy Bowlinger? He was the other boy who was molested."

"I believe he knew of him but never hung out with him or talked with him."

After about five minutes the conversation was over. During the next two and one-half days there would be twenty more calls, so much for relaxing. But it was coming to an end. I was reminded of that every time a phone call came in.

We left the rent-a-car in Key West and decided to fly back. We were in a hurry to get back and see Tony. We took the short ten-minute cab ride to the Key West International Airport. I can remember when we first came to Key West your luggage was thrown through plastic curtains. Now they put in the conveyer belt and considered it to be modernized. To go back to those days would be easy to do. I am sure I had worries back then but not like now.

We gave a phone call to Tony so he could start cleaning up whatever messes he had made. We then walked through security and boarded our plane. We landed in Miami,

changed planes and started the flight home. We didn't talk much on the flight, Stephanie and me. We just let the time drift by. All too soon we would be back. Soon this trial would all be over, but it could never be soon enough.

***

"What do you mean another continuance? Do you remember all the calls a couple of weeks ago? 'It's all but done.' That's what you said. Right? Remember?" I was shouting into the phone at States Attorney Brent Clark. Seems something had come up that the defense had needed another continuance. "What is it this time?"

"Mr. Wilson's assistant, Arnold Kukec is having guests in from out of state for the holidays and would not be able to attend court." Clark stopped and waited for my reply. There was dead silence on both ends of the phone.

I express amusement at the complete disbelief of what I had just heard. "You have to be kidding me? If anyone would visit me from out of state, they would understand I have to go to work during the day and I would see them at night. Not true for lawyers?"

"The judge is going to grant it. There's nothing we can do."

"I am so sick of hearing there is nothing you can do. Maybe there is something I can do. Something I should have done long ago." I didn't care what I said. This was starting to edge on ludicrousness.

"Don't even start that kind of talk," Clark shouted. This was the first time Clark raised his voice to me. I guess I finally struck a nerve. Maybe he did have some emotion inside him somewhere. "I never want to hear that again."

He was right; you don't want to broadcast your darkest thoughts. Maybe someday it would come back to bite you in the ass. "Sorry, but this is so fucked up. Our holiday will be shit again but his will be good with his company. Did anyone verify company was coming in? Or is it a given attorneys don't lie?"

"He wouldn't lie like that to the judge."

"Now you are kidding, right? This system sucks so bad you people have lost all your common sense. Use your head. This is stupid."

Clark was noticeably upset. I'm not sure if he thought it was directed at him or not, or if he knew what I was saying was right, but felt his hands were tied. "Why can't we tell the judge how I feel?" I wanted to tell the judge how pissed off I was. How this was to me a mockery of justice. How it has become yelling matches between the States Attorney's Office and me.

"That would not be a good thing to do. You don't want the defense to know how this is affecting you. You don't want him to know what goes on in our camp."

"If he has half a brain he should know." But then again that common sense thing. Maybe they don't know. Maybe they are so wrapped up in their own world where there are no real feelings about people's lives they are dealing with, that they don't see it. Reminded me of the old joke. What are a hundred lawyers at the bottom of the ocean? A good start. Rang true today.

***

One good thing about work it took my mind off everything for the most part. But I also knew it was just one word away from coming back.

Danielle Lee asked if anyone had heard about the people on Wall Street that were convicted of fraud. "They received fifteen to twenty year sentences."

Allan Topseed responded, "That's more than that inmate got last month for murder. I guess instead of defrauding their victims they should have killed them."

An outlandish remark but probably true. How could white collar crime be worse than rape, murder, or child molesting? This system was out of whack. Let me be judge for one year. It's all I would need. Frivolous lawsuits tossed out and the person bringing it penalized. The attorney taking the case suspended. Soon there would be no more frivolous cases. Shorten the time for the offender's "speedy trial." Yeah, that's what they call it. What a joke with that one. With Judge Timmy not only would the trial be speedy but also the judgment and sentencing just as fast. Yes, maybe I would only need six months.

Today was the day they would receive their continuance for the holidays. I was going to sit in the courtroom and watch. States Attorney Clark was correct in that there was nothing that could be done but I was still going to every hearing. If for nothing else so I could let whoever looks at me know, someone cares about what's going on.

But today the judge says something different. "Counsel I'm granting your request for this continuance, but this is your last one. We have run the course. Pick a date in February. This case is going to trial. Both sides will present the other side with a redefined list of possible witnesses by next week."

Jeffrey Motter's attorney, Theodore Wilson II spoke first, "Your Honor, I have several cases going in February. That's a bad month for me."

"Have them continued. I know you are familiar with that concept. You two can pick a date or I will." Judge Peterson had had enough too.

I watched as Wilson picked up a stack of papers, his hands shaking. Funny, he was no longer the self-confidant attorney. He was wilting in front of the judge. The papers in his hand had nothing to do with the next court date. They were being used as a prop that was needed to calm him. If he could have seen how they jiggled as he held them he would have probably put them down.

States Attorney Brent Clark jumped in with, "Any day that is good with the court is good with the State."

Judge Peterson turned his attention again to Theodore Wilson II, "And that date would be?"

"Thursday, February twentieth should be good for me."

"Since we will be starting this trial on a Monday, not the middle of the week, the date will be February twenty-forth. Be ready gentlemen."

The hammer came down with a crisper bang this time. I'm sure it was just me but that's how it sounded. I sat there for awhile. I was just taking it in. The end, dare do I even think it, is it in sight? Something was happening to me, something inside, almost a cleansing. I could not explain it but I sure felt it. Enjoy the moment I told myself because now I must decide do I tell my family.

***

Christmas had come and gone. Sometimes it held all the joy and wonder as years gone by. Sometimes darkness and blues not even Elvis' Blue Christmas could match. The heartbreak of it all was I didn't know if it was just my head playing tricks on me or if it was in fact just me. I would ask myself, "Did I bring this on myself? Am I being punished for where my life was going or where it had been?"

I was having more and more dark thoughts about how to end these tribulations with the courts. It would be very easy really. Take out the bad constituent. Get rid of Motter. No Motter, no trial, no problem.

It would be effortless to walk up to him and put a gun to his head. I did it when I was shooting at the bank robber. Got him in my sights, aimed, and thought for a second "can you do this?" I saw the top of his head as he dropped down in the front seat seeking cover. I dropped my sights slightly. Pop. His head went forward then back, and within thirty seconds his gun came out the car window. He was done. He had enough.

I did it then, I for sure could do it now, without a second thought. But then what would happen? Doing it was not a problem, living without my family, something different. I need them as much as they needed me.

But then there was Christmas morning when Christine, Douglas, and Tony came down the stairs. We sat with presents on our laps as we talked of Christmas' past. They were happy, happy times. How when they would open their presents I would notice a small hole where a mouse had ripped through to see what was in the box. As a matter of fact, I saw the same hole on some of Tony's presents this year.

We all laughed. It was good to laugh. For me to sit and see my family there before me, growing into wonderful people, not only family, but also so much more. This is why I had to keep my thoughts on what I'm doing. Keep my head on straight. Don't let this situation get the better of me.

As I sat there with all the laughter around me, I bowed my head and gave thanks for all I had. How could any man be any richer?

***

But now as the court date was only two weeks away it was time to say something. I knew this would reawaken the demons again but it had to be done. I would tell Stephanie when we were alone. Then go from there.

That night was a bleak winter night. Looking out there was no sign of life. No neighbors, no cars, no animals. But looking up at the sky it was alive with the twinkling of a thousand stars. I asked God for his strength to get through the next turbulent days, and nights. Time to start was now.

She was seated on the love seat looking at a magazine. "Stephanie, there's something I have to tell you." I said as I sat down beside her. She placed the magazine down and shifted in the seat. Over the past couple of years neither of us knew what would come out of the others mouth. We had had some hard times and some terrible nights. Without a word she looked up into my eyes with the worried look of a dog about to be put to sleep.

"Actually, this should be good news. The trial is in two weeks."

"When did this happen?" Her look changed from that poor puppy to a wild dog looking for food and I was it.

"I wanted to be sure before I told you."

"Are you sure now?"

"As sure as I can be, everything points to it starting and coming to a conclusion in a week after that."

"Hmmm, everything points to that. That's just wonderful. Here we were having such a good time with our family and now you have to bring up that jerk again. Did you have to right now? You're not even sure. Why? Why do you think this is the time?"

I was taken back as I thought it was a good thing, it was coming to an end. Stephanie did not see it that way. "I spoke with the State Attorney's Office..." I began.

"They ever say before it was going and didn't?"

"They can only give me what their best belief is. This is what they believe. It will go this time. Even the judge wants it to start. I feel it. I can't absolutely say why, but I know, I feel it is going to start." I pulled her closer to me. "Stephanie, we have to remain optimistic, if not for us for the kids. They see what this has done to us, the yelling, the arguments, the fighting, but they also still see the love and bonding this family has needed to pull through."

She looked up at me, her eyes glistening a little from the tears forming. "I know. It's just hard."

"For us all. Remember that no one hurts more than Tony. And he doesn't want us to be like this, at each other's throats."

She reached up and gently pulled my head towards hers. She placed her lips on mine and gave me a salty, wonderful kiss. It reminded me that sometimes fighting is all right, just so you can make up. "I'm sorry. What do we have to do?"

"Nothing. We wait and I'll stay in contact with the State. We'll have to go in one more time so they can tell us who will testify. Then we wait for trial, arm in arm, hand in hand. We will face this as a family. And trust me; he will never hurt Tony again." I meant every word. Especially that last part, no one would ever hurt Tony again. Not as long as I was around. Never.

***

Three days before the trial we met with States Attorneys Brent Clark and Gary Wagner. We again sat in the conference room where many battles were waged and many facts were rediscovered. This was where Tony remembered some of his darkest hours. This day would be better.

As we all sat down at the table I looked around the room. Clark and Wagner sat across from Tony, Douglas, Stephanie and me. "How are we doing today?" Gary Wagner asked.

"If we go to trial in three days, everything is fine," I came back with.

"No stopping us now," Brent Clark said, "we can tell you this is for sure."

"That is why we have to see who will testify," Wagner said. "We are favoring Tony, of course, also Douglas. Are both you guys up for this. Just have to say what you told us. Don't embellish just tell what happened. If you don't remember just say so. There is nothing wrong with that. Just don't guess."

Clark continued, "Stephanie and Tim, we may use you for rebuttal if we need to. But as of now we feel your testimony won't be needed."

"Who else will testify?" I asked

"Officer's Matthew Williamson, Dominic Hattle, and William Wasmiak, Detective Tonka, Investigator Paul Hennesey, and Sammy Bowlinger."

The last name took me back for a second. "You spoke with him?"

"He's a very intricate part of these proceedings." Wagner said it but both Wagner and Clark were shaking their heads.

"How long do you foresee the trial to last?"

"Our guess would be four to five days, depending upon who testifies for the defense."

"You don't know yet?"

"We have their list, as they have our list, we will find out for sure on the day of trial. We are ready for what ever they throw at us. Really Tim."

They then went over the same questions the boys had heard before, many times. They seemed to be pleased the answers were the same. That was a sign of telling the truth.

We left as usual walking past many of my co-workers. But this time seemed to hold a bit more bounce in our steps. This was it, the State Attorneys were ready and by God so were we. Let the chips fall, and they better fall right.

***

The night before the trial was anxious. It was strange because it held tension and relief at the same time. We were nervous what would happen yet thankful it was soon to be over. Stephanie had decided on a full roast beef dinner with all the trimmings. Not the last meal rather the first meal of our new start.

The table was set with our finest china. A dinner of times gone by but was here again. All three children were happy as they saw the dinner come together. It was almost childlike in their smiles and laughter at the table. I looked around the table and again felt blessed that we had survived. Not that we were some super family coming through as would be expected but to a certain extent as a family brought together and glued together by love.

The conversation revolved around past experiences and stories of some family disasters. Like the time we were on my father-in-laws boat and he told me to throw the anchor overboard. I being the kind of guy to follow orders I threw it over. The very next words out of my father-in-laws mouth were, "You did tie it down, right?"

As the rope finished unraveling with the anchor pulling it into the water I said, "You didn't tell me that." With that said, the anchor, the rope, and my humility sank to the bottom of the lake. The next day my father-in-law gave me a coffee can with cement in it telling me, "Here's your new anchor."

There were many other stories passed around the table that night, with countless hardy laughs to accompany them. It was a night that should have never ended, a perfect night. Dinner had ended, the table cleared, and no one had gone away. I believe every one of us was touched by that evening. It was one magical evening, which would hopefully be repeated over and over from now on.

When we went to bed Stephanie and I laid still, not talking for a minute. Then she said, "I wish I could testify. I want to say what a terrible freak this guy is."

"I know you do. I want to scream he deserves to rot in hell, but we have to leave it in the States hands and hope they convince the jury of what he is." As I said that I wondered if a fight was now to break out. But it didn't happen. It was like a peace had come over both of us, our whole family actually. A peace that justice would be served. In my mind I knew it would be served, their way or mine. If it had to be, my justice could be my revenge. We kissed goodnight then tried to sleep. It took awhile but finally Stephanie was sleeping. I could tell by the petite sores coming from her side of the bed. She always denied she snored but it never bothered me. It only made me smile at the tiny sounds she made. Next sound I heard was the alarm clock going off.

***

Stephanie went into all the bedrooms to awaken the kids only to find them already in the kitchen making breakfast. "Let's go mom, biscuits and gravy waiting," said Douglas. Tony was already eating. "Hurry up, he'll wolf it all down in a matter of minutes," Douglas continued.

"Save some for your father and me." Stephanie was laughing as she headed up the stairs to get ready.

To my surprise the exhilaration from last night stilled lingered into our morning. We had a confidence surrounding us, a certainty that permeated through us.

We ate our breakfast over small talk and big smiles. Whatever the day held ahead for us for right now it was fine. I heard the furnace turning on and watched our cat heading over to lie on the heating vent. She did know how to stay warm. She was a long hair cat, a Maine Coon, but somehow like me she was located in a climate well below her warmth needs. As she lay down she let out a soft purr. If today weren't the day it was, I'd be back in bed purring a little myself.

All the guys were dressed in collared shirts and slacks. Stephanie was in a dress. Show the court some respect. I was glad the boys had dressed that way without being told to. I have seen so many times guys coming into court with shirts on I wouldn't wear in front of my mother. They were aware of the importance of everything they did and said today. I also knew Jeffrey Motter would be looking like a young businessman who has been wrongly accused.

As a custom before I leave my house I go through the "what have I forgot" routine, which this time indicated it was my wallet that I left on my dresser. As I picked it up I saw my gun safe near a bed stand. I stood staring at it for what seemed like several minutes when I heard Stephanie call upstairs, "Timmy, are you coming?"

"I'll be right down." I still stood looking at the safe. Maybe I should just in case. I bent down, unlocked the safe, and removed my Smith and Wesson two-inch snub nose thirty-eight with its holster and clipped it to the small of my back on my pants. I stood up and called out, "On my way."

As I reached the bottom of the stairs Stephanie asked, "You all right?" She was looking straight into my eyes. She knew what I was going through. She probably knew best what we were all going through. For at some point or another she was the sounding block. The words of wisdom. The anchor of our ship.

I couldn't lie to her so I answered truthfully, "I'm fine. I just had to find my wallet." Okay, maybe not completely truthful but in no way a lie. I did find my wallet right where I had left it, on the dresser. As we started out the door to the garage I glanced at our cat only to find one of the dogs realizing she was catching all the heat. He was as close as she would let her come to her. Both looking at me with the "I was here first look." I was smiling as I walked through the door.

I had started the car before I went upstairs so by now it was quite toasty. During the forty-five minute drive to the court house there was no talk of the trial. The day was cold, maybe around twenty-five degrees. The streets were a patchy white from the remnants of the salt on the melting ice. Traffic was moving normally for a morning rush hour. In my rear view mirror I saw Motter's van. The one he used for work. But wait, was it his or just one that looked like his. As it moved up behind me I could tell it wasn't his. This happened all the time to me. I never told anyone because the word paranoid would come up for sure. But I knew what Jeffrey Motter was capable of. I knew this man. But then again I never knew he could hurt my family as he had done. Maybe I didn't know him. Anyway I would be ready, I had told myself. And now, with the help of a very small helper clipped to my back, I was.

I parked in the parking garage, almost in the same spot as the time I saw Mrs. Motter, if I saw Mrs. Motter. We exited our car and walked up to the courthouse. I listened to the recording of what could not enter the courthouse. What they don't know won't hurt them, I thought. I instructed my family to walk through the security line as I made my way to the pass line.

As I approached the deputy I recognized it was Bill Baker. He was smiling at me. "Today's the day, huh?"

"Yes, it is. Hopefully it'll go well." I smiled back not breaking my stride. I did not need any surprises of having to go through the security line myself.

"Well, if it doesn't... let me know... I'm packing."

"Yeah, I will." And for your information I thought, so am I.

We made our way to the courtroom with only a stop to use the bathroom. We entered and sat towards the front of the gallery. States Attorney Brent Clark walked over to us. "Would you all please follow me?" he asked. We stood up and followed him to a small room with only three chairs in it. "I'll try to locate another chair."

"I'll get it. I know where some are," I said. I knew we would be excluded from the courtroom, as we could not hear the testimony of any of the other witnesses. We could sit together but not talk of the case. Sometimes there is a game played with the witnesses sitting in the courtroom and if the defense doesn't ask for them to be removed they stay. Not happening today.

I found three chairs I could relocate to our room. On my way back I ran into detective Evan Tonka. "How is everybody doing?" he inquired.

"As good as could be expected." We were shaking hands as this exchange of words was being communicated. A feeling came across to me just before the handshake was terminated; we're almost done. I smiled as the handshake broke off. One thing was true among all the lies that Motter and his attorneys were spewing out; Tonka was a friend of mine.

As we sat in the room with the door closed we made small talk of everyday life. Every so often the door would open up and we would stop talking and look at the door only to see different police officers, attorneys, and clerks looking for a place they could sit for awhile.

Once when the door opened I recognized some faces. It was Lakeville police officers Matthew Williamson, Dominic Hattle, and Bill Wasmiak. Hand shakes and smiles were passed around. Along with the smiles I could see anxiety in the way of being afraid of botching the trial up. I thought I knew the pressure they were under, but I didn't really find out until after the trial when I was told how some of them could not sleep at night afraid they would leave something out or forget a particular statement. This was one of their police brother's sons violated and to error now would be almost sinful. Up to this point everything went by the book. No one wanted to be the one to mess it up.

As we sat waiting for the trial to begin I started to ponder what I would do if the outcome were not to my liking. As I was thinking of this the attorneys were continuing to argue before the bench. But in what came to be the shortest arguments over the last three plus years, there was a knock on the door, States Attorney Brent Clark opened the door, "Tony, are you ready?"

"Been ready for a long, long time," was Tony's reply. "This is it?"

"This is it." Clark held out a hand. As Tony walked pass Clark put his hand and arm over Tony's shoulder. He then gave Tony a squeeze on his neck. "You can do this."

Tony walked out, never looking back. Clark walked Tony all the way to his desk. There he paused and declared, "The State calls Tony Carver as it's first witness."

Tony walked up to the witness chair where he was sworn in. He then took the seat. Prior to his arrival to the witness chair the courtroom deputy had filled a glass with water. Tony picked it up and took a sip.

The State proceeded to ask the same questions that Tony had answered so many times before. How he met Jeffery Motter that he was his Godfather, what he bought for him, how he treated him and what was done to him.

Tony's answers were straightforward, no hesitation, no doubt. There were times that Tony became slightly emotional, but the jury seemed to take that with a sign of sincerity. He wasn't putting on a show just showing what he'd been through and how he felt then and now.

States Attorney Clark asked Tony why he brought these charges and what impact on his decision his father played in determining what he was about to do? Tony replied immediately he wanted Jeffrey Motter put away from other children. Tony then asked Clark to repeat the rest of his question.

"What impact on you did your father have in going to the police?"

"Actually, I feared at first he was not with me because he told me how I would be on trial. How Motter's attorneys would try to make me a liar. I took it as all negative. But then he said it was my decision and he would back me one hundred percent."

"And what did you say?"

"No matter what, I have to try, call the police."

Tony was on the stand for about ninety minutes for the State, and then the defense took over. Attorney Theodore Wilson II was very controlled in questioning Tony. Never raising his voice or pressuring him with any answers.

He basically went over the same questions Clark had asked. He was trying to find a flaw, a change in testimony. There was none. He did ask, "Why did you come up with the locations over such a long period of time?"

"It was because of you, really. You kept asking the judge for more information so I had to keep reliving it, thinking over and over about things I wanted to forget." Tony was looking Wilson right in the eye as he answered.

"I object, Your Honor." Wilson bellowed out, "The witness did not answer the question. His remarks should be stricken."

"The witness did answer your question Mr. Wilson, please continue." After about fifteen more minutes Wilson was done. The State had no more questions. The world was lifted from his shoulders. Those who were in the room said a light, some glow, sent from somewhere was emitting from his face. There was no more he could do now but wait. He stood up, looked at Jeffrey Motter, who had his face buried, looking down, and Tony walked from the stand back to our waiting room. When he entered the room, although we did not know what transpired in the courtroom, we knew hugs were in order. And it was hugs around the room.

Tony's brother Douglas was next to the witness stand. His testimony was fairly short basically saying he was with Tony, sleeping, when the abuse occurred. He also stated

Tony had told Kenneth Saucer and himself that Jeffrey Motter had done bad things to him. But Tony made them promise not to tell anyone.

Next called to the witness chair was Detective Evan Tonka. He testified to the facts of how he was contacted, how he interviewed my family, and the incidents that led him in determining Motter should be arrested. When crossed examined Wilson seemed to cover again the same questions, but he was very interested in three points.

"Detective Tonka, what type of shirt were you wearing that day when you approached Jeffrey?"

"A polo shirt I believe."

"Would it have your department insignia on it?"

"No."

"What color was it?"

"I don't recall."

"Could it have been white, brown, red?"

"I don't recall."

"So Detective Tonka, just by looking at you there would have been no way to determine you were a police officer. Is this not correct?"

"Correct."

"When you, Detective Tonka, took Jeffrey to the police station to interrogate him, isn't it true you had to use some type of key to enter the room he was interrogated in?"

"Yes."

"And you said you were friends with Tony Carver's father. You were and still are good friends, are you not?"

"Yes."

"But, even though you were friends with him you did not turn this case over to someone else on the department or an outside agency, did you?"

"It was my case and I saw it through to its end."

It was now the States turn to rebut the defense's questions. States Attorney Clark started, "Detective Tonka, do you normally where a police uniform at work?"

"No."

"Why is that?"

"I'm in plain clothes. I work in investigations."

"And do you wear different clothes through out your work week?"

"Yes."

"You say you unlocked a door to the interview room, correct?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You enter the interview room from the outside vestibule so you are entering the police department at that time. You would be entering a secured part of the police station. You need a key to enter, but you can exit the room from the inside without a key."

"Would Jeffrey Motter have known this?"

"I object, how does he know what Jeffrey knows?" defense attorney Wilson declared.

"If Mr. Motter had ever been in that room before, perhaps he would know you can open it," Tonka quickly said.

"Over ruled," Judge Peterson stated, "You may answer."

"Are you aware of Mr. Motter ever being in that room before, Detective Tonka?" Clark asked.

"Since he was employed with us for awhile, he was in and out that door numerous times."

"And finally Detective, do you know Tony Carver's father?"

"Yes. I worked with him. He's a retired police officer from my department. He has trained me and many others on our department."

"Why did he choose you?"

"Simple, I'm the detective."

After he was done testifying Evan Tonka stopped by the room. "I'm working on another case so I have to go. I'll be back tomorrow."

Good byes were said and our room had one less body in it.

States Attorney Gary Wagner stuck his head inside the door, "Paul, you're next."

Paul Hennesey from the children's center stood up and walked towards the door. He stopped to put on his suit coat. He looked every bit the part of a well dressed, educated detective as he left the room. From his hair to his spit-polished shoes, nothing was out of place. He walked out through the doorway without ever looking back.

I didn't know Paul that well but I knew of his compassion for the job he did. He had said once his biggest problem with his job was he always came into contact with victims of child abuse after they were molested. He would give up all his pay if he had a way to find out about the abusiveness before it happened, to spot the red flags and be able to act upon them. He lost a little piece of himself every time he spoke with a new child brought in to see him.

I felt I understood him as I was being eaten up by what we were going through. I wanted to go into the courtroom and look at Jeffrey Motter right now. I wanted to see for myself how he was taking this. Was there any remorse? Or was he trying to beat this, anyway he could? I stood up but it was only to stretch my legs. I couldn't do anything stupid, at least not yet.

Paul Hennesey gave about the same testimony as Evan Tonka did. The same questions came up about clothes, friendships, everything that Tonka had answered. But defense attorney Theodore Wilson II also went over the confession and Motter's receiving of his Miranda Rights.

Even through Wilson lost his appeal in the hearing about excluding the confession he was able to put some of his arguments to the jury. "Investigator Hennesey, when you handed a copy of the Miranda Rights to Jeffrey was he wearing his reading glasses?"

"No."

"Were you aware of his need for reading glasses? Was he ever asked about his ability to read without glasses?"

"I was not aware of his need for glasses."

"But yet he told you he understood them. Do you know why?"

"I assume..."

"I'm sorry Investigator, but I did not ask for an assumption, I asked if you knew?"

"No, I don't know why he said it, only that he did say it."

"Your Honor I ask that the last part of his statement be stricken from the record. It was meant as a yes or no answer."

Judge Peterson advised the jury to strike the last part of the answer.

"So Investigator," Wilson continued, "could it have been Jeffrey was nervous, perhaps even scared of what was going on around him that he told you he understood, but in fact could have been confused and didn't hear or understand your question?"

"I don't understand your question." Hennesey replied.

There was a quiet laughter from around the courtroom. Wilson smiled, "How many times have you testified Investigator Hennesey?"

"Hundreds."

"And sometimes you become nervous?"

"I wouldn't say nervous."

"Confused? Are you ever unable to understand a question? Like what just happened now and you asked for it to be repeated?"

"If I don't understand, I ask it to be repeated."

Wilson walked slowly toward the witness stand. Looking down, pondering Hennesey's answer, and leading all the jurors with him as he asked his next question. "Well then Investigator, my question was, is it possible for someone who is nervous and is scared, able to answer a question without completely understanding it?"

"I guess... it is possible."

"No more questions of this witness at this time Your Honor." Wilson turned and walked slowly back to his seat turning his head and looking at the jury as he walked.

Hennesey was upset that he took the bait Wilson had laid out for him. But he walked off the stand with the same solid, assured composure as which he had when he walked in. No one would see he was distressed.

Hennesey didn't come back into the room where we were all seated. He left the building. Later he would tell me he was just pissed at himself. But he was back in the hallways the next day, waiting with the rest of us.

But our day wasn't over yet. States Attorney Gary Wagner opened the door; "The judge has adjourned until two o'clock. So everybody should be back by one forty-five."

Detective Evan Tonka and the other police officers decided where they would go for lunch. My son and daughter from my first marriage said they had to leave but would be back tomorrow. Tony, Douglas, Stephanie, Stephanie's mother and her cousin Lee Hunter, who was giving terrific support just by being there, and myself, decided to go to a local restaurant just a few blocks away. Time wise we had one and a half hours, and I knew since we were not testifying, we didn't have to make it back right on time.

As we pulled up to the restaurant there was a parking spot open right in front. "Front row parking," I exclaimed. Then I pulled in. Just as I shut my door I observed three men walking in the restaurant's front door. Though I didn't know their names I knew them to be lawyers. I prayed that Motter's lawyers and Motter himself in fact would not show up here. We entered and a lady of about sixty greeted us.

She asked how many of us there were, and then showed us to our table. She was very pleasant. There are times when you can look at someone say a few words and know they are just good people. It was that way with her.

She was very cheerful having short comments for nearly every table we past. "How's that hamburger? Your steak cooked right? Not too much salad dressing is there? Is your cold better?" She knew everybody and really showed she cared for everyone.

"Your waitress will be with you shortly. Is this your first time here?" she asked as she waited for us to be seated.

Stephanie answered, "Yes. We are involved in a trial at the court house."

The lady took a look around our table and said, "I hope it works out for you. Don't let it get you down."

How could she know we were the victims? Did we show it that much? Somehow she knew because she looked right at me, put a warm smile on her face and said, "It'll be all right." She then turned to leave saying to the table right next to ours, "New shoes Margaret?"

Our waitress came and she was every bit as friendly as the first lady was. As we ate our lunch which was prepared as if we were family, I noticed the attorneys around us. Some smiling, some laughing, some even boasting how they made they State shudder. As we sat there I wondered if they realized at all what they held in their hands. They held the lives of their clients, the anticipation of their opponents; it was the world within their world. How many have forgotten right from wrong? How many can only see people as money, not as victims or offenders. How many have sold their souls?

As my eyes met some of theirs the talk would be silenced to almost whispers. They knew we were not one of them. We were on the outside but that was all right, I've been there most my life. I have tried to do what was right. Sometimes that led me to be an outcast. A person or place I didn't always mind being.

We finished, left a good tip, and headed for the door. The lady who had greeted us as we walked in was back at the front of the restaurant. As she looked at me she said, "It will be all right. Just have faith."

As I turned the key in the ignition to start and warm the car, I felt she had done the same for me. She warmed me from the inside out. I did not feel the world on my shoulders as it had felt walking in.

Unfortunately the feeling didn't last long. As we walked towards the courthouse from the parking lot my stomach began to turn. I took a deep breath and continued to walk down the sidewalk. Stephanie must have sensed it because she gave my hand a tight squeeze.

We entered through security again, they went through the x-ray and magnetometer equipment and I used my pass to bypass it completely. No one spoke much to me this time other than to say hello. How's it going? But there were no elaborate answers. I just answered okay, fine, how about you?

Back into our room we went. We sat in the same chairs we had sat in prior to lunch. The police officers, who still had to testify, were already back.

The next called to testify was Officer Karl Robinson. He took the witness stand and told of his involvement in this case. He told how he was ordered to follow in his police car to Jeffrey Motter's parent's house. How he arrived, exited his car and waited by the unmarked police car containing Motter. He was standing right next to the car when Motter's mother approach. Motter's window was down, his mother walked up to it.

States Attorney Gary Wagner then asked Officer Robinson, "Was anything said between Mrs. Motter and her son Jeffrey Motter?"

"Yes." Officer Robinson looked Wagner eye to eye.

"Do you recall what was said and if you do could you repeated it to the Court."

"I do recall," Robinson said, he then turned his head to look at the Judge, "Jeffrey Motter said, 'Mom I sexually abused Tony Carver."

"Was there any reaction from Mrs. Motter?"

"Yes. She said 'What?' And he repeated that he sexually abused Tony Carver."

"You are sure of those words?"

"I am sure."

"What did you do then?"

"We went inside the house and executed a search warrant."

Officer Robinson went on to testify about what his participation in the search warrant was. Where he stood, what he did, what he saw and heard.

In cross-examination defense attorney Arnold Kukec exhausted the questioning of what exactly was said at the police car when Motter's mother was present.

Kukec went at Officer Robinson full blast on that point, "Were any other police cars pulling up at that time? Any other traffic passing by?"

"No." Robinson kept his composure and answered the questions. He sometimes repeated his answers three to four times. The State let it go due to the fact Robinson was handling it so well. They could have objected to "asked and answered" but Kukec could not agitate Robinson.

"That's all from this witness Your Honor." Kukec sat back down and conferred with Theodore Wilson II.

Judge Peterson then asked both counsels how much time would it take for the next witness? The estimated time was one and half-hours. The judge decided it would be a good time to stop. He admonished the jury not to talk about the case and advised both counsels to do the same and to tell their witnesses to do the same. We would reconvene at nine a.m. the next morning.

As we drove home I felt as if things seem to be going as anticipated. Tony was done with his part and I could see the tranquillity on his face. I also saw it in Douglas. Maybe we can get through this with out too much fallout. I hoped so. I prayed so.

***

What's that noise? It's too far away. It sounds as if someone is talking. Yes that's it. But what are they talking about? I sprang up in bed and twisted my head from side to side so fast my neck hurt. I looked around. Stephanie was not in bed. I looked towards the night table; the alarm was going off and the radio was talking to me. That was as sound as I had slept in a long time. I heard another voice this one I knew. It was Stephanie's.

"Tim, if you are up can you feed the dogs I'm running late." This came to me not really as a question but as a request.

As I rubbed my neck I said, "No problem. I'm going to make some tea while I'm down there."

"Thanks."

I went downstairs with all the dogs following me. They loved the first run out in the yard every morning. They were doing their regular barking and running in tight circles before the door was open. Soon as the door is open enough out they all ran. I grabbed some tea, put on my coat and followed them out.

"Damn, it's cold," I said to myself. This is why I'm supposed to be living somewhere south. Saint anywhere, well not Saint Paul, Saint Pete's would be sufficient.

The dogs finished their running around and taking care of some business and they are ready to go back in. We were only out for maybe ten minutes but I was ready to go back in eleven minutes ago.

Once back in the kitchen I heard Stephanie coming down the stairs, Tony was with her. He said, "Douglas says to wake him up but he didn't budge for me. Maybe he will for you."

"I'm going up, I'll get him," I said as I rounded the corner of the stair railing and walked up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs I turned to look into Douglas' room. He was seated on his bed, still in his sleeping shorts and tee shirt. "What's up?" I asked.

He looked up at me with hair going every which way and the reddest eyes sunken in their sockets. "Nothing really dad. It's just I wish we could have stopped this all from happening to Tony. He's really a good kid and doesn't..." His words slipped into the air as his voice left him.

His shoulders rose and fell as he held back the tears. I sat down next to him. "Don't worry; Tony is going to be fine. He's a lot stronger than I ever knew." I began choking up myself but I continued, "He will probably pull me through this. He wants to put this guy away, we have to help him with that then we can put it behind us."

I put my hand on Douglas' knee and gave a slight squeeze. Damn that Motter, as quick as lightning, my mind flashed to the fact Motter did that to Tony. He was still ruling my world. A pat on Douglas' knee and I said, "Go get dressed, we will be leaving soon. I know Tony wants us all with him." I paused for a moment then continued, "I will always be there for him, and I'll always be there for you. Anytime. Anywhere."

Douglas stood up; smiled at me, told me thanks and went to the upstairs bathroom to get ready. I went to the master bathroom and cried. My emotions were running wild. I could talk a good game but when it came to listening to my own words, I was a little short in the self-control department.

***

We walked down the court hallway headed for our room off of the courtroom. It was Tony and I leading the way for Douglas and Stephanie. As I looked down the hall I saw Jeffrey Motter and his mother standing just outside the courtroom on the opposite side of the hallway. Tony bumped into me as he tried to get as close as he could. He still held a fear of this guy. Why, oh why did I have to bring Motter into my house?

Motter's mother was doing her normal staring down as I approached. I looked her right in the eyes and wanted to walk up to her and slap her on top of her head and ask,

"Don't you understand this is entirely your son's fault?" But she did not know. I don't know how she could not have seen the truth, but she just did not understand it.

Jeffrey Motter himself kept his eyes on his attorney. He never once looked at any of us, although his attorney, Theodore Wilson II, would glance up for a swift glimpse every now and then. His eyes looked only at his attorney. I hated his attorney and if after this was over I could damage him in some way, I would cherish the opportunity.

We passed them without incident. We always had to watch ourselves. We could never say any wrong words or give too hard of a look. You never knew how the courts would interpret it. Would they try to say we were we trying to intimidate them? We knew that somehow it would come back to haunt us. Maybe this is why I was a walking time bomb. I never released my mounting frustrations.

When we entered our room officers Bill Wasmiak and Dominic Hattle were already seated and stood up as we walked in. Good mornings were exchanged and Bill offered to go to the cafeteria to get some coffee and donuts.

"Thanks Bill, but you forget, I'm retired. I don't get donuts every morning anymore. That's a police thing."

I was laughing as I said it but I would have to admit it was true. One thing most people don't take into consideration about police and donuts is that at any moment police have to dump whatever it is they are eating and respond to a call. Donuts are easily disposed of, but usually it was by shoving the remains into our mouths.

There was light talk, mostly about life after police work. I told them it really was great. No working afternoons, no changing shifts and walking around being a zombie. "It has been truthfully acceptable so far," I said. "You know what I like best? It's when..."

States Attorney Brent Clark opened the door, "Dominic, you're up."

Officer Dominic Hattle took the witness stand. His questions from both the States Attorneys and the defense were the same as Officer Karl Robinson's. The only slight difference was when defense attorney Arnold Kukec asked Hattle about what Jeffrey Motter said to his mother in the police car Hattle responded with, "Mom, I sexually abused Tony Carver." Which was the same response as Officer Karl Robinson, but with the follow up question of are you sure?

Officer Dominic Hattle replied, "I'll never forget those words as long as I live. Yes I'm sure."

Officer Bill Wasmiak was next to testify. His was the testimony of obtaining different pieces of evidence from Jeffrey Motter's bedroom. What was found, tagged, and removed. Theodore Wilson II could only try to confuse jurors with why a certain piece of evidence was taken. Did pictures of boys playing with computer games, snowmobiles, and four wheelers really have anything to do with this case? After just over an hour Officer Hattle was done.

At this point Judge Henry Peterson called for a recess. He removed himself from the bench as the courtroom deputy was saying, "All rise."

With all the police testimony done the officers left the courthouse. Detective Tonka and Investigator Hennesey had stopped in but were on their ways to different courtrooms and separate crimes. We were alone in our little room except for Cousin Lee who had arrived during Officer Hattle's testimony and Stephanie's mom.

States Attorney Brent Clark stopped in to keep us up to date as to what was occurring. "The judge is trying to estimate how long testimony will be and when would be a good time to stop."

"Who will be next?" I asked.

"Sammy Bowlinger." Clark answered.

"Boy, I did not want to bring him into this. He had suffered enough at the hands of Motter. Is he alone?"

"No. His mother and wife are out there. He told me they know now what happened to him with Motter, but this will be the first time they hear the actual events of what happened."

"I know he never had told anyone, that's why I wanted to keep him out of it. Motter messed up a lot of people," I said.

"It's going to be a long and rough afternoon," Clark acknowledged. I could see things were getting to him. All the times he asked us for more answers, more times, more dates, and I would blow up. I was seeing now he was just as frustrated, just as run down by the system and how it treated people. He was not at fault; he was just playing the hand he was dealt. Seems it was time for a new hand.

The judge had decided to have an early lunch and get started at one p.m. sharp. We decided on a quick lunch at McDonalds.

When we returned we again went right into the room. We were curious to see Sammy Bowlinger and his wife and mother. To tell them all how sorry we were they had to be here. However, we did not know what any of them looked like and we also didn't want to see any of the Motters.

Sammy Bowlinger was called to testify. A young man in his early thirties walked up to the witness seat. He was dressed in a plain gray suit and brown shoes. His head was down as the clerk read him the admonishment to tell the truth. As he answered he would tell the truth he raised his head and looked directly at the clerk. He then sat down.

The questioning started with background information, name, age, marital status, et cetera. All questions asked and answered. Then came the more poignant questions.

"Mr. Bowlinger, do you know Jeffrey Motter?" asked States Attorney Clark.

"Yes."

"Could you explain to the jury how you came about to know him and how this relationship progressed."

Sammy Bowlinger proceeded to tell a story of how Motter asked him to work for him, paying him more money than he would make anywhere. He had also received gifts, some costing two to three hundred dollars. Motter would take him on trips, out to lunch and dinners, and taking him to trips to his properties on the beach in Florida.

"How would you describe your relationship with Jeffrey Motter?" asked Brent Clark, "when you first knew him."

"Well, at first it was great. He had all the toys. Computers, games, four wheelers, snowmobiles, everything you could ask for. And if he didn't have it he would go out and buy it for you," Sammy Bowlinger said.

"Now, when you say 'buy it for you' do you mean you took it home with you?"

"No. Jeffrey would say he bought it for you but it would have to stay at his house and

I could play with it anytime I came over."

"And these things he "bought" for you, you wanted to play with them?"

"Oh yeah, they were the latest games and such. He had to pay a lot of money for them."

"Did he ever show you any pictures?" States Attorney Clark inquired.

"At times he did. He had pictures of nude men and women, sometimes alone, sometimes together. We would have conversations about sex and he said looking at pictures made it easier to explain." Watching Sammy you could see that talking about these times bothered him. Every now and then he would glance towards his wife and mother.

"Did these conversations of sex ever go any further?"

"When we were in Florida at one of his places on the beach, I was staying with him for five days. He told my parents it was a present for getting such good grades. Well, there was only one bed and a couch. He gave me the bed and he slept on the couch. The next day he complained his back hurt from the couch. That night he slept in the bed with me. After awhile he said he was hot and took off his clothes. He said he always slept naked, that nothing was wrong with that. He said I should try it. I did. That was the first night," he stopped, looked up at Clark then he looked at the judge, "that was the first night he put his mouth on my penis." He never looked at his wife or mother but he could hear his mother sniffling, holding back from crying.

"I know this is very hard but how many times did this occur?"

With his eyes filling with tears and starting to snivel he said, "Every other night that time and numerous times when we returned."

"These other times you talk about, where did they occur?"

"Usually his bedroom in the basement, sometimes in his office. Once in his office just as we were getting started Tony's father, Officer Carver came up into the office. I never said anything to him but after he left Jeffrey said the police really liked him and knew he would never do anything wrong."

"Knowing what you know today as an adult, you know you didn't do anything wrong, correct?"

"No, I did do something wrong." Sammy was now shaking his hands very fast, his head almost in a twitch. His eyes were not only red but had tears streaming down running over his cheeks and onto the table in front of him. His words came out in spurts, as he could no longer control his voice. His wife and mother were now holding each other and also silently crying. With a deep gulp of air Sammy cried out, "I should have stopped him so that Tony would not have been harmed."

"Objection Your Honor," Theodore Wilson II shrieked. "Mr. Bowlinger does not know for a fact Tony Carver was harmed."

"He did the same thing to him as he had done to me, and I have been messed up ever since," Sammy Bowlinger spouted out.

"Objection Your Honor. Make him stop." Theodore Wilson II was up out of his chair so fast it crashed into the retaining wall dividing the gallery from the attorneys.

"Your Honor, Mr. Bowlinger was only making the statement of how he felt after Mr. Motter, the defendant, harmed him. Mr. Bowlinger does know how he has felt over all these years." States Attorney Clark was also on his feet. He was visibly upset himself for the first time. He wanted to put Jeffrey Motter away for a long time for all the hurt he had caused.

Judge Peterson called both councils to the bench. All four attorneys approached the bench. "Gentlemen, I'm going to allow this testimony as it is referring to the feelings Mr. Bowlinger felt about his contact with Mr. Motter. Mr. Wilson you will have the chance to cross-examine the witness but for now if you are done Mr. Clark, I'm going to call for a fifteen minute recess for everyone to prevail with calmer demeanor."

"I have no further questions of this witness, Your Honor."

"I am calling for a fifteen minute recess. Mr. Bowlinger you may step down from the bench we will recall you then." Judge Peterson then gave Sammy a small smile, as if to say, "It's all right." Sammy stepped down.

Sammy Bowlinger stood up and started walking towards door to leave the courtroom. His mother and wife stood up and proceeded to inch their way past the other people sitting on the benches, moving slowly to their left. They arrived at the end of the row about the same time as Sammy did. Sammy never raised his head to look at them he just walked out. They followed without any words. They knew he just went through the hardest testimony he would ever have to articulate. That is until the defense attorney would ask him to repeat it, perhaps even going into more detail.

They walked down to the end of the hall to be alone. They huddled there in a small circle of three. I stepped out of our room to use the bathroom. When I looked down the hall and seen them standing there all together in one big group hug, it took my breath away. I sucked in a lungful of air, then turned and walked towards the washroom.

I passed Jeffery Motter and his family as I walked. Motter was standing talking to his attorney. Doesn't he see the pain at the end of the hall that he caused? Doesn't he care? I continued pass him. He would care. One way or another, when this was over he would care. I'll see he cares. He will care when his world falls apart. He will pay. He will feel our pain. This is the one thing I know, he will suffer.

After the fifteen minutes they called for Sammy Bowlinger to retake the witness stand. When no one walked up to the witness chair the courtroom deputy walked out into the hallway. Sammy was no longer at the end of the hall. The deputy called out his name several times. As the deputy placed his hand on the door to re-enter the courtroom Sammy came around a corner his mother and wife following.

The deputy waited for them, never asking them to hurry or acting like he was distressed with them. He just waited, holding the door for all three. Then he followed them in.

Sammy sat back down in the witness chair. The judge reminded him he was still under oath. Sammy acknowledged he was aware of that fact and waited for his next question.

Defense attorney Wilson took well over a minute to look over his papers to locate his first question. It was only a minute but seemed an eternity for Sammy.

When Wilson started he started slow. "Now Mr. Bowlinger, you say Jeffrey let you work for him. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Did he teach you what to do? Show you and instruct you in the workings of how to fix electrical lines in houses?"

"Yes."

"And what did he get from you for this education? Did you pay him?"

"No. He said I could learn and help him out at the same time."

"Now Mr. Bowlinger, when Jeffrey bought you things for rewards for doing a good job or doing well on tests, was he a bad person?"

"No."

"You took these gifts and went with Jeffrey to restaurants and on trips without any fear of him correct?"

"Correct."

"You say he showed you pictures of nude people. Now isn't it a fact these pictures were in magazines that were in his office?"

"That's right."

"And isn't also correct that you picked up these magazines and looked at them yourself without Jeffrey handing them to you saying, 'Here, look at these,' isn't that correct?"

"I may have picked them up." Sammy was seeing where this was going and started to think through his answers. Then he remembered what the States Attorneys had said, 'just always tell the truth as you know or remember it.'

"I mean he didn't shove the magazines at you and made you look at them. Didn't hold them in front of you to look at them?"

"No."

"You like most children were just curious and looked at them, right?"

"I guess so."

"Do you know what the word harm means Mr. Bowlinger? Strike that. The word harm can mean numerous things. It could mean hit, cut, choke, and push, among many, many other meanings. Did Jeffrey ever harm you in any of these ways?"

"Not like that."

"And there is no way of you knowing Jeffrey harmed Tony Carver in any of these ways and you don't know, for a fact, he ever harmed Tony Carver in any way, now isn't that correct Mr. Bowlinger?"

"That's correct, I'm not sure." Sammy was starting to breathe heavier. His heart was pounding, not that he was lying but because Wilson knew how to take someone and twist what they were saying to meet his agenda.

"That's all we have of this witness."

States Attorney Clark remained seated at his table as he started, "Just a few additional questions Mr. Bowlinger. Did you ever ask Mr. Motter to buy you magazines with naked men and women in them?"

"No."

"Lastly, Mr. Wilson asked you if Mr. Motter ever physically hurt you. I believe his words were, 'hit, choke, push'. You answered Mr. Motter never brought you pain of this sort. But did he ever cause you to be in psychological pain?"

"Yes."

"And that was when?"

"After he abused me."

"I want to thank you for coming in Mr. Bowlinger. I'm done with this witness Your Honor."

Judge Peterson looked at Sammy and told him he step down. Sammy looked back at the judge. His body and mind had been battered and bruised but it also held in it a wave of relief. This is something he had wanted to do for a long, long time now he had done it. Not only to say it to just anyone but to a judge and jury in court of law. He was drained yes, but oh so vindicated too.

After Sammy and his wife and mother left the courtroom Brent Clark continued, "Your Honor, next we would like to stipulate to two witnesses. Mr. Wilson and I would like to stipulate that if Kenneth Saucer would testify he would say he was with Douglas and Tony Carver one afternoon when Tony disclosed to Ken and Douglas, Mr. Jeffrey Motter touched Tony inappropriately after returning from a trip and also at Motter's house."

"You agree with that?" Judge Peterson asked of Theodore Wilson II.

"Yes, Your Honor," was Wilson's reply.

Also we would stipulate to if Herman Motter would testify he would testify he was not home at the time the search of the house started. He would also say he never granted or sanction the search."

"Do you also agree with that Mr. Wilson?"

"Yes."

"The State rest, Your Honor." Clark told Judge Peterson.

"We will take a short recess then continue with the defense." Judge Peterson then stood up as the deputy announced for all to rise. Judge Peterson walked off the bench and returned to his chambers.

Clark came into our room to tell us there was a break then the defense would have their opportunity. I asked how many witnesses? He replied, "I think only one, his mother."

"What could she say?" Stephanie burst out. "She wasn't there when her son was hurting mine."

I wanted to say stop. To try and calm her but my words would not have helped. I just went to her side and hugged her. We had each other. We all had each other.

"It shouldn't be long now," Clark said.

"We want to be in there for closing arguments." I told Clark. He said he would get us so that we could have that closure. Closing arguments were a summary of the trial. It wasn't based on truth but what everyone had testified to. Both sides would go over high points that they wanted the jury to remember as they deliberated.

It was Theodore Wilson's turn to call a witness; "The defense will call Patricia Motter."

As Mrs. Motter took the stand she appeared nervous. She took on the appearance of an old lady, perhaps someone's grandmother. Her eyes were not the same eyes that had been piercing me everytime our eyes met; instead they were darting side to side, first at the judge, then Mr. Wilson, then at the jury, and out into the gallery.

"Mrs. Motter," Wilson started, "I'm going to ask you a few questions. I want you to take your time to answer them. If you need me to repeat anything you just ask me. All right, Mrs. Motter?"

Wilson was portraying her as a poor old woman that was very fragile. This was not the woman I had seen during this trial. Would the jury fall for it? You just never knew.

"Yes. I...I understand," she quietly said.

"Mrs. Motter, you are Jeffrey's mother, correct?"

"Yes, I am. And I'm proud of it."

"Now just because he is your son doesn't mean you would lie for him, isn't this also correct?"

"I would not lie for him. That is correct."

"Now turning your attention to the day the police brought Jeffrey back to your house and he was seated in their car he spoke to you. Do you remember what he said?"

"It is my house," Mrs. Motter answered looking straight at Judge Peterson. "My husband and I have owned that house for over thirty years. Jeffrey lives in Florida." Mrs. Motter finished and looked back at Theodore Wilson II.

Wilson shook his head as he attempted to convey with his eyes that she had not answered his question. He struggled by picking up the line of questioning she was answering.

"Yes," there was a short pause as he formulated the next question, "since the home is owned by you and your husband Jeffrey could not officially give authorization to search it, and you never gave permission correct?"

"That is right."

"When Jeffrey arrived back from the police station, you walked out to the police car. Do you remember what Jeffrey said to you? And if you do what was it he said?"

"He said 'They think I did something to Tony Carver,' and I said something like 'what' and he repeated those same words."

"Are you sure he said that and not something to the effect that he molested Tony Carver?"

"He never said anything to that effect. I am sure of what I heard."

"No further questions, Your Honor."

"The State has no questions, Your Honor," Gary Wagner said. The State felt their witnesses had covered what Mrs. Motter had testified to without asking her more questions.

Theodore Wilson II was seated at his table and conferring with Arnold Kukec and Jeffrey Motter. The judge had asked for him to call his next witness and he answered, "May we just have a moment, Your Honor?"

After a short conversation Mr. Wilson stated he had no more witnesses.

The judge asked if the state wished to call anyone in rebuttal. The state again said they rest.

States Attorney Brent Clark continued to sit at the table as he sent States Attorney Gary Wagner to our room to let us know we could enter the courtroom for closing arguments. Since the court was in recess only a few spectators were seated on the benches. We all sat in the front row waiting for perhaps the longest few minutes in our lives.

"Remain seated court is back in session," the courtroom deputy declared.

Judge Peterson sat back down, "Mr. Wagner would you please start?"

The State went first, followed by the defense, then the State finished. Wagner pushed his chair back and walked slowly to the podium, which had been placed in front of the jury.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury what you have heard over the last few days is a horrific story. And as horrific as one might believe it to be, it doesn't even begin to tell the story of how a young boy was taken advantage of and manipulated by someone he trusted. But it does not even stop there, he continue to struggle with this as a young man."

"You heard from the boy, the young man himself what happened to him. And let me tell you," as he was talking Wagner moved out from behind the podium and walked facing the jury, "this was not easy for him. He didn't want to have to tell a group of strangers what happened to him. He didn't want to tell a judge, or me or anyone else in this courtroom. It was very hard for him to tell his parents, the people he said he loved and trusted the most."

"Why did he do it then? You heard him say," then Wagner slowed his speech to articulate each word, "to-stop-this-monster, and that is why his ex-girlfriend told him to tell his parents."

"You also heard Tony's brother Douglas tell you how Motter got them to go along with him, with toys, games, trips, dinner, lunches all so that they would want to stay with him."

"You heard not one but two detectives give the same account of how they approached and spoke with the defendant, Jeffery Motter. How he was asked to accompany them to the police station and once there how Motter confessed not only to the crime he was being investigated on but yet another crime of the same magnitude."

"You heard again, not one officer but two, say exactly what Jeffrey Motter said to his mother while in the front seat of the unmarked police car. He said, 'Mom, I molested Tony Carver,' that's what he said that he molested Tony Carver."

"Then you heard from another young man who has no connection with Tony Carver or his family except, and it is a big except, he also was molested by Jeffrey Motter. For the first time in his life he told of the ways Motter became controlling over him. This was not precisely the same as Tony Carver but strikingly similar."

"You heard the defense council agree that if Tony Carver's boyhood friend would be called to testify he would confirm Tony's and Douglas' statements that Tony did in fact tell them, in confidence, of the molestation that had taken place with Jeffrey Motter being the offender."

During Wagner's closings he would move from in front of his table to the podium to walking in front of the jury. He sometimes would point to pictures which were introduced as evidence as the trial had proceeded. There was the cassette tape with Motter's confession on it, the signed consent to search, and several pictures of young boys, among other items.

But when he came to the pictures of a naked boy that Motter himself took Wagner raised his voice so that all could clearly hear. Some in the next courtroom probably heard as well. "If, and I say if because you may not choose to view it again, if you look at the photographs of the naked young boy remember, Jeffrey Motter took these pictures. They were not in a magazine supposedly lying around in an office. He lined up the camera, pushed a button, and made the photograph." There was a pause, as Wagner wanted the words to sink into the jury. When he spoke again it was softer as the jury listened to his every word. "Why he did this... we will probably never know, but what we do know is that he did."

"Now it's hard to say anything against someone's mother, especially one that is trying to protect her son. I will only say you heard two, not one but two police officers testify they heard Jeffrey Motter say he molested Tony Carver."

Wagner now walked over to the table where attorneys Arnold Kukec and Theodore Wilson II, and Jeffrey Motter sat. He walked to with in three feet of Jeffrey Motter pointed his finger and said, "This man, sitting right here, Jeffrey Motter, molested Tony Carver numerous times when he was but a child. He used his authority over him to control every situation. He used his friendship to gain access into Tony's life. He used Tony, for his own sexual gratification over and over. The State has proven beyond a reasonable doubt Jeffrey Motter is guilty of all the crimes he is charged with. I ask that you find him guilty as charged. Thank you, members of the jury."

Wagner then walked over to his table and took a seat next to States Attorney Clark. He let out a breath of air then picked up a pen and waited for Wilson to start his closing argument.

As Wagner gave his closing I had proceeded to have so many ups and downs I felt I was riding the fastest roller coaster made. My mind at times could not even comprehend all that was being said. Some I didn't want to hear and in reality shut it out.

I was sitting between Tony and Stephanie, with Tony to my right. The exit door and Motter's table sat to my left. Beyond Stephanie, on my left, was Detective Evan Tonka. Still with everything going on and everything being said I was able to control myself.

Theodore Wilson II started his closing slowly, taking a deep breath, a slight shake of his head, and a crimping of his lips. He looked at Jeffrey Motter as Motter sat with his head down. Then he started, "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the State would have you believe this is an open and shut case but I differ with that summation of this case and trial. I want you to look at what is believable in this case. First you have a man who believes certain things occurred on certain dates but can't be sure. These things happened long ago which could lead to some clouding of the truth. Am I calling Tony Carver a liar? No I am not, in so many words. We all forget how things happen as years go by." Wilson walked over to the jury.

"It's like that summer vacation you went on ten years ago; you know it was ten years ago until you look at the pictures you took which have the date printed on them. It was only five years ago, an honest mistake, yet a mistake."

"What you also have here is a son of a police officer who tells his father I think something bad happened to me years ago. What does the father do? He starts to orchestrate the demise of Jeffrey, my client. He calls his friends on the police department and leads them right where he wants this case to go. As we brought out at trial, Tony Carver is suing Jeffrey. A fact you should keep in mind when you are looking for motive on the father's part."

As I sat and listened to Wilson speak I was thinking 'I hope no one was believing this bullshit', but I also knew you never knew what a jury would do. All it took was one juror to see it Wilson's way and it was a scrub.

I reached my hand into Stephanie's hand. Hoping I would not break it if I crushed down on it too much. She looked over at me, "Take it easy. It'll be over soon," she whispered.

Here she was comforting me when I knew she was also a nervous case. We had our highs and lows during this ordeal but she stood now a rock for all to see.

"Let us not forget the two police officers. Yes, there were two as the State continually beats on. Did you ever wonder why with Jeffrey under arrest, locked in a car, handcuffed, they need two police officers? This is just another point to ponder."

"Then they just happen to come up with another alleged victim. How convenient is that? Somewhere you have to wonder where does this all come from?"

"You have pictures in evidence, but it is only summation who took the pictures. I'm sure every one of you has pictures in your house that you didn't take. It is not right these pictures were ever taken but there is no evidence who took them, or for that matter, how they arrived in Jeffrey's desk drawers. Here is another point that was not answered to consider when you are deliberating."

"You have a so called "confession tape". What you really have is Jeffrey saying what he had been instructed to say by two police officers that used certain tactics to make him say things he did not mean to say. Again I would have you use your own life's circumstances. Have you ever said something like, 'I'll see you on Christmas,' when the truth is you see that person on the Saturday before Christmas? Even if everyone knows what you mean, the fact is you are not seeing them on Christmas."

"There are a lot of questions in this case that are not answered by the State, and as you will be advised by the judge later, you have to consider these options, and find a ruling beyond a reasonable doubt. Ladies and gentleman, I stand before you today and say, in this case there is more than reasonable doubt, and the doubt is if Jeffrey did commit any crimes at all.

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen, I am sure you will take my words with you into the deliberating room. I feel confident you will find Jeffrey, not guilty."

Theodore Wilson II walked back to his table. He now wore a smile, which he beamed to Jeffrey Motter. He then turned and did the same for the jury, along with a slight nod of his head and a wink of his eye.

I was ready to take out the whole table. Just reach into my pant leg remove the six shot snub nose Smith and Wesson thirty eight revolver and pop, pop, pop. What arrogance, what out and out bullshit. How could he get away with saying what he did? Lies, he presented lies to the jury. This was not a court of law? This was a court of deceit.

Brent Clark stood up, walked across the floor to the podium, placed several papers on the podium, and then placed his hands on either side of the podium. He looked down at his papers then, with a tilt of his head; he looked up at the jury. He started slowly, precisely, with confidence in his voice and words.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I have been practicing law for a number of years and I would just like to say, in rebuttal to Mr. Wilson, I would never assume or indicate I had an open and shut case. Every case has two sides. Your job as jurors is to determine what side produces a truthful story. To think you cannot lose are the thoughts of a fool. That is why we have you, our jury."

"With that being said I feel we have given you the evidence and testimony that will bring you to the verdict of guilty. I would like to start with the fact that Tony Carver never, repeating never, changed his testimony of what was done to him by the defendant, Jeffrey Motter. The dates only changed as he remembered more of the numerous occasions. He remembered by looking at photographs of vacations, using the Internet to determine when movies came out, whatever would jog the memory of when. What, what occurred never changed."

"He did not forget as years went by. He only suffered more as they did."

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, we have been reminded over and over and yet over again, that the victim, Tony Carver's father is a police officer. This is a fact, but after that fact their," Clark said pointing towards defense counsel's table, "their facts hold no water at all. Tony's father didn't orchestrate anything except to help his child through a terrible time of a legal system that sometimes does not fair well with victims."

I wondered if Clark really believed what he was saying or was it all part of the legal game. As Clark spoke he was looking at the jury when he spoke of the legal system he had turned to look at me. As our eyes met his head slowly sank. But then it turned back up and he continued, "But I do believe it is still the best in the world. Changes yes, but the basic construction of it, solid."

"We have two police officers hearing the sentence Jeffrey Motter says to his mother.

'I molested Tony Carver,' is what he said. Mr. Wilson would like to throw some confusion into that statement by claiming two police officers heard it. Again, this makes no sense. They are validating what was said. Both officers stated to you, under oath, exactly what they heard. Both heard the exact same words come out of Jeffrey Motter's mouth. One officer said he would carry these words with him forever."

"You have seen some of the pictures that were in Jeffrey Motter's desk. In testimony you heard that there was hundreds of pictures plus thousands on his computer. The pictures on his computer were all of children in sexually explicit poses. Then there were numerous pictures presumably taken by Jeffrey Motter of young boys, several of these pictures were of a young boy, an acquaintance of Jeffrey Motter, nude with the boy in the state of arousal. These were pictures found in Jeffrey Motter's desk, in Jeffrey Motter's bedroom, with Jeffrey Motter standing within feet from where they were acquired. When asked who the boy was in the nude photograph, Jeffrey Motter gave the detectives the boy's name. No question about it he knew the boy."

"Counsel raises some question about the confession tape. You heard it, you heard both detectives state where, how and when the interview and confession occurred. We feel that the tape speaks for itself. There are no sounds of a struggle, no editing of the tape, no instigating or directing what should be said. Simple questions, simple answers."

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Wilson asked you to look at 'other options', I say there are no options only truth. That's what we are telling each and every one of you here today, the truth. Look at what was said by each and every witness. Look at how they answered the questions, their demeanor, their body language, their words, do they make sense. Do the statements hold with how a reasonable person would react?

Brent Clark walked back to his table, bent down and whispered to Gary Wagner, "Have I left anything out?"

Wagner replied, "Only that they should find him guilty."

Wagner smiled up at Clark.

"The Judge will give you a set of instructions before you start deliberating on this matter. Listen to them, and then talk it over among yourselves. There are numerous counts here. The State feels we have presented you with enough evidence to find Jeffrey Motter guilty on all counts." Clark walked over to Jeffrey Motter's table. Pointed right at him, and said, "Do what Tony Carver set out to do himself, but now he needs your help, take Jeffrey Motter off our streets. Find him guilty of all counts."

Stephanie reached over with her right hand and placed it on my right arm. "It's over." These were two simple words that had never meant so much.

The judge took over the talking giving the jury their instructions. After he was done we stood up and shook Brent Clark and Gary Wagner's hands. They did a phenomenal job. After all the arguing and yelling it was over and they led us through it.

I walked out first, after saying to Stephanie I was going to the washroom. Stephanie, Tony and the rest of our group walked out with Clark and Wagner. There was also a woman from the victim assistance group who mainly spoke with Tony. She also was a big part of us staying focused, keeping the faith.

When I returned Stephanie looked at me then leaned into me and whispered, "Something strange happened. The Judge walked by and said we shouldn't go too far.

What did that mean?"

"Could mean it's going to be quick, but which way?" I answered. I was hoping it was guilty but you never can be sure of a jury.

We were escorted to the State Attorney's Office and led to a small room for victims and their families to wait the outcome of trials. The room was no more than fifteen feet by twelve feet. It contained a small couch, two small sofa chairs, and three folding chairs leaning against the wall. There were also two small tables one with a lamp on it, the other had a twelve-inch television. There were windows with a view of the parking lot.

As we moved around the room trying to locate a seat we were asked if we needed anything. "A finding of guilty would be nice," I answered.

Stephanie answered, "No, thank you." She then turned to look at me. I shrugged my shoulder slightly. Just kidding I thought. But I wasn't. I wanted the guilty plea more than I wanted air in my lungs.

Tony walked over to the window and asked, "Dad, you work here, how long can this take?"

Thinking he won't like my answer I broaden it a little. "You can never tell. Some go quick, some last for a fairly long time."

"I mean how long have you ever stayed for a trial like this?"

"I have been here till after midnight." I knew he did not want to hear that, but it was the truth.

"If they come to a verdict quickly, what does that usually mean?"

I didn't really want to get into this, as you never could tell with juries. Sure you could take your best shot of what they were thinking but as soon as you think you have them figured out...bam, something hits you from left field.

"Well, it's..."

A knock on the door, it was Brent Clark, "They have a verdict."

"How's that possible?" Stephanie asked, "How long has it been?"

"Under forty minutes," Clark said. "Let's go, we can talk on the way."

Clark led the way at a brisk pace. Every now and then he would look behind the make sure we were all keeping up. When we reached the elevator and entered it was dead quiet, not a word spoken.

Tony finally spoke up, "What could this mean?"

Clark answered him in a very slow and meaningful calm, "Call me superstitious but I never predict a jury. I can tell you this Tony; I feel we put forth the best case we could have. Almost everything we wanted to happen did happen. But we will have all the answers before long."

We entered the courtroom before anyone else was in there. We went back to "our" seats on the bench. I heard a movement in the back; some reporters who had been following the story were coming in. A second look found Motter and his parents walking through the door.

The courtroom was filling up. Some of the people I knew. There was family of Jeffrey Motter and friends and family of ours. There were media and police officers. Some of the police officers had been involved in the case, some not. Some I knew some I did not know.

The States Attorneys sat at their table; Motter and his attorneys sat at their table. The clerk and stenographer sat at their seats. The Judge was just being seated at the bench. There were several deputies positioned around the room, more than usual I noticed.

Did they know if things didn't work out right it would then be in my hands? Had I said something to alert them? I noticed just to my left stood the chief of my department. His attention was directed towards the front of the room. The jury was walking in.

The jury walked in and sat in the jury box. I was looking for something, for anything any of them would do as a clue to what was about to take place. But there was nothing. They all sat with their heads straight ahead. What was going on?

I placed Stephanie's hand inside of mine. We both squeezed at the same time. I could not bring myself to look at her. As much as I did not want to I knew I was starting to lose it.

I moved my head from side to side, up and down, and in circles to try and take the tension out of it. It wasn't working. I had to stay composed for everyone there. They were counting on me.

The Judge asked the jury, "Have you reached a verdict?"

"We have Your Honor," the chairman of the jury answered.

"Deputy, bring the verdicts to me," the Judge said.

The deputy retrieved the verdicts and walked them to the Judge. Since there had been fourteen counts against Jeffrey Motter, the Judge took a few minutes to view all the documents.

He then handed all the verdicts to the clerk and told her to read the verdicts. My legs were both bouncing around like they thought I was running a fifty-yard dash. Sweat was forming on my brow as my mouth had gone dry.

As the clerk started reading the verdict I stopped breathing. "For the charge of placing Jeffrey Motter's mouth on Tony Carver's penis on or about the night of July 4th 1991 we the jury find Jeffrey Motter guilty of the charge."

I sucked in a mouthful of air, a gasp came out. What a relief, Tony had done it. The jury had believed Tony and not what the defense tried to sell. But it wasn't over the clerk continued reading the verdicts. The same charge was read over and over. I could not help but to think this is what happened to Tony. And it happened over and over. After every charge I heard the word guilty. But I could not stand to hear it any more. I looked up towards Stephanie, my eyes red and wet with tears. "I have to get out," I said as I stood up and proceeded towards the exit.

Everything slowed down as if in a dream. I looked to my left then towards the table where Jeffrey Motter sat. I could only see the side of his head but enough of it to infuriate me. I bent over and felt the gun attached to my ankle. I sat up again focusing on Motter. From deep inside of me a voice said, "No, no, no, do not do it." This was when it went back to real time.

I stood up and proceeded to my left. In doing so tripped over people seated next to me. Some lady had a purse as big as a suitcase that was in my way. Somehow I was able to maneuver myself over it. Just as I arrived at the end of the isle the chief of the courthouse grabbed me and pushed me through the exit doors. Next thing I knew I was back in the little room I had spent so much time in over the last few days.

I looked at the chief, "What are you doing?" I asked.

"I thought you were going after him." He was now looking at me and saw my breathing was abnormal. "Slow down. Breath...slow...take a deep breath."

I was trying but it was hard to contain all the emotions I had felt over the last many years. "Would you like me to get Corporal Monroe up here?"

"Yes."

He was on his cell phone when I heard him say, "Don't make this a big deal, but I want you to immediately come to courtroom 5005. Don't say anything to anyone just get here." He then hung up his phone.

I was seated in a chair with the chief's hand on my shoulder when Corporal Jillian Monroe came through the door. She must have run the whole way as she was breathing as bad as I was.

I stood up and she opened her arms to me and I put my head on her shoulder. "It's over," I said.

"How's everyone else?" she asked.

"I don't know. Okay, I think. I had to get out."

Within a matter of minutes Stephanie was entering the room. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine. I couldn't stay. I'm sorry."

"It's not a problem, just we were all concerned. My mom asked if I had seen the look in your eyes, you were pretty frightening."

"Well the chief must have seen it too because he put the halt to where ever he thought

I was going."

After a small round of hugs I asked, "What now?"

"We want to celebrate. Then go home where Douglas has some Champaign he brought back from France."

I said, "I don't drink Champaign."

Stephanie said, "You do tonight."

"Great."

Just then another friend of mine walked through the door; he was seated to my left as I left the courtroom. "Hey, sorry the way I stumbled over you as I went pass," I said as he stepped into the room.

"I thought you were going after him," he replied.

"Yeah, so did my Chief."

"Do you know the difference between us, me and your Chief," he said with a slight smile upon his lips, "he stopped you."

Not knowing exactly what to say I just said, "Thanks." I knew what he meant.

I then said to everyone standing in the room, "Tonight is for celebration, any and all can join us."

I looked at Stephanie and said, "Let's go, we have Champaign waiting."

When we finally arrived home the music was turned on and a celebration as no other had started. We all spoke of old times, happy times. As the hours passed I realized this was to be one of our happiest times.

When everyone had left and it was just Stephanie, Douglas, Tony, and I. Douglas said,

"How about that Champaign?"

"Pop it open," Tony said.

We toasted to many things that night. We all went to bed with good thoughts and sugar plum fairies dancing in our heads. Some of it due to the Champaign, but the good thoughts came from our day in court, really Tony's day in court.

As Stephanie's eyes closed for the last time that night my last thought was, please God let the sentence fit the crime.

***

The sentencing date was sixty days from the finding of guilty. Tony and I were asked to write victim impact statements. We both worked on them for quite some time. We wanted them to convey our feelings without sounding unreasonable.

He had been through so much. I could never imagine how scared he must have been all those times with Motter. What he thought of me for bringing Motter into our home, making him Tony's Godfather. So many different signals, how did he keep it together? Finally telling us what had occurred and then having to go through the court system. Nothing, not anything I can think of in this world, could be worse than that.

But I also wanted to communicate that the suffering and pain did not stop at Tony. Our whole family suffered in many different ways. But for me, the emotional impact was several tiers.

How could I have brought this person into our lives? Why could I not see what was happening, the warning signs? Looking back they were there. I knew the law system, or at least I thought I did, how come I could not protect Tony from it. Why could I not keep Motter locked up all these years? So many things were troubling me about my lack of control of the situation.

I hoped I could get it down on paper so the States Attorney could read it. I was asked if I wanted to read the impact letter but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to do it. I sat down at the computer several times to write my feelings down but I could not. I would get too emotional.

Finally I just said to myself, "You have to do this, and you have to do it now." I began writing and once I started it just flowed. It wasn't grammatically correct but it was how I felt, what I had done and what I was still going through.

It took about a week to have it say what I wanted it to say. I wanted to sound intelligent but not lose the emotion. I worked very hard on how and what I said.

Tony had brought me his impact letter to read. He also was concerned something would not sound proper when read by someone else. I took it from him saying I would read it later. When he left the room I read it.

I had only read the first paragraph when I started tearing up. By the time I was done I was sucking in air as the tears flowed down my cheeks. It made me think of how my son was tortured by these acts against him. How my son felt the pain. How he saw first hand the terrible manipulation that was done to him to put him in a position that he could not control.

It's only the victim and the officer on the scene that sees the actual ravages of a violent crime. Such as the man who has sliced his wife thirty times with a butcher knife. She is covered in blood, clinging to life. He is in a rage that she was going to divorce him. But the correctional officers see a man that is on good behavior, talking and joking with them. The judges and jurors see a man in a suit very apologetic about getting a little mad.

I wanted to tell all the police officers that are the first responders on the scene, "Don't forget the victim. Don't forget what you see or you hear. You may be the only voice the victim has."

Stephanie came into the room. She saw me trying to hide my crying. She had asked what was wrong. I showed her Tony's letter. Within seconds she too was sniffling.

I stood and took her into my arms and said, "I promise you Tony will never be hurt like this again. Never."

"I also read your letter; it was on your dresser. There was nothing you could have done. You didn't know what was going on. Jeffrey used you and me to get to Tony. No one could have anticipated what he was doing." She held me tight as she spoke. The whisper of her voice was comforting to me. Almost like a washing of my sins, a relieving of the mistakes I had made, came over me. Was I finally truly coming to terms with myself? At least at this moment I felt I was. Tomorrow was going to be another day. We walked out of the room hand in hand.

Chapter 28

The day had come for Jeffrey Motter's sentencing. As I was getting ready I looked at my gun locker. I had already made the decision, no gun. It was not in my hands but rather in the judges. There were still questions about what would happen if... but that would be for another time. As of now we would stand as a family together exposing the insides of the walls we had for almost four years stayed behind.

It was quiet as we entered the courthouse. Other than hellos and quick smiles we walked through the hallways with little communication with security personnel. As we approached the courtroom I saw a female States Attorney, Paula Winston, whom I had known for several years.

Paula had seen me approaching and smiled as she offered her hand in greeting. "Hey stranger, haven't seen you around lately," she said as she looked from me to my family.

"Keeping that low profile, under the radar," this was always my generic comeback. "Paula I would like you to meet my wife," I turned towards Stephanie, "Stephanie, this is Paula Winston, she works in the States Attorney's Office. I have known her for many years."

"Hello Paula," Stephanie said.

"Pleasure to meet you Stephanie," Paula replied. "How are you guys doing through all this?"

"Holding up," Stephanie said.

"I saw the name a while back and asked some questions. I actually sat in a few times; I don't know if you saw me?" Paula explained.

"I didn't, but I didn't look around the room much, others I did not wish to look at," I said.

"Excuse me for asking Stephanie, but could I speak with Tim alone for a moment?" Paula asked.

"Sure, go ahead, I am going to freshen up anyway. I'll be right back."

"Mom, I'm coming with you," said Tony.

They both walked off down the hall towards the other end. Paula motioned to me to walk with her down to the end of the hall away from everyone.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I talked with Brent and he said we were reading both victim impact statements, is this correct?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Because I would suggest both of you read your own statements. It will have more meaning because no one will put more passion in reading it than the two of you. I have seen a States Attorney, and this is not a reflection of Brent, but I have seen a States Attorney read a statement so fast all the heart and soul, which was put into it, was lost. Read it so fast, in fact, words and sentences blended together. You would do much better yourself."

"Thanks for the advice but I'm not sure I could get through it. It was fairly hard to write let alone read," I said as I shifted from one leg to the other in a nervous fashion.

"I don't want to say 'I know how you feel' because I don't, but I do know what will be more impacting. It's okay that you fumble words. It is okay you get choked up. This is what puts the punch in victim statements. If you didn't have the emotion then you wouldn't be feeling the impact as you do. It's what would be best for you and your son. Sometimes it even helps the closure aspect of this whole incident."

She made sense, but I really didn't want to read my letter. But I told her I would discuss it with Tony. I gave her a slight hug and thanked her for her knowledge and understanding. She returned the hug then walked past Stephanie and Tony and entered the courtroom.

"What was that about?" Stephanie asked.

"She wants Tony and me to read our statements. I'm going to talk to Tony about it."

"I think you should too. The judge will see how it has affected you and Tony. He should see that."

With that I turned to tell Tony to follow me as we walked to the other side of the hall. I explained to him what Paula had told me. Tony said that would be good with him. In reality he wanted to.

I looked at Tony and said, "Let's get into our room to go over what we both will read." We went into the room and both studied our statements. Hopefully it would go smooth.

As we were in the room going over our victim impact letters States Attorney Clark was calling another Lakeville police officer to the witness stand, Clifford Russle. Clifford and I were on vacation awhile ago and one thing led to another and the conversation turned to how I was told Jeffrey Motter, while out on bail, had been talking to two boys in front of his house. This was a direct infraction of the bail bond, which had said no contact with children. After I had found this out I contacted the police department, but I was told it had already been investigated and could not be substantiated.

When Russle returned to work he stopped at two houses and located a woman who stated she had seen Jeffrey Motter with two young boys on their bikes outside his garage on the driveway. She went down by the boys and told them to get away, he was a bad man. Russle testified he had spoken to the woman himself and told the State that if it would have been necessary she would have come in to testify herself. It had never been determined why or how this was missed in an investigation.

In what I thought was too quick of a time we were entering the courtroom. The States Attorney Brent Clark started talking laying the foundation of our statements then Tony was called to the witness stand.

Clark asked of Tony, "Please state your name."

"Tony Carver," Tony answered. His voice was soft but steady. He fidgeted in the witness stand and my heart was already going out to him. He was looking down at the letter he had written which he held in his hands. That was when Clark walked up to the witness stand. Tony raised his head and eyes to meet Clark's eyes.

"Tony, did you prepare a statement for today to read to the Judge?"

"Yes."

"And are you prepared to do so at this time?"

"I am."

"Then please, when you are ready, please read your letter to Judge Peterson."

Tony started reading immediately. It was like he could not wait to tell the Judge or anyone else how he felt, how he had waited so very long for this day.

He spoke of how when this started he was a child, trusting and carefree. But as he grew older, his teen years he realized what Jeffrey Motter had done to him was wrong. He explained how he told his girlfriend at the time and his parents about what had happened to him.

He told of how scared he had been over the last three to four years over the fact Motter was out of jail and could hurt him at any time, maybe even kill him. Tony knew Motter was still on the streets hurting other children.

He brought up the different counselors he had seen over this time. How they helped but he could not go as much as he wanted. He had a job and was having difficulty at school, which he believed was partially do to not trusting or wanting to be around male teachers.

He looked directly at Jeffrey Motter when he said, "I trusted this man. He acted like he was my best friend. He gained my parents and my trust so much that he received the title of Godfather. Then what did you do? You took advantage of me and my parents."

He looked back down at his letter. His voice had become shaky. He stopped for a moment. If I could have I would have raced up there and given him a hug to assure him he was all right.

He went on to say how this had also hurt his parents because they felt they should have protected him from this man. But Tony knew there was no way to see the wolf under the sheep's clothing.

He finished by looking at the judge and saying, "Judge, this man is no less than a monster. You heard it from others and me. Even if he got seventy years and he would be an old man when he got out of prison it would be too nice for him in my eyes. Throughout this whole trial this monster has had the same look on his face. He has shown no emotion because there is no emotion. He has made me lose my emotion but I am trying to regain it back. I'm working on that every day of my life." At this point the Judge who was looking at Tony smiled and gave him the nod of his head.

"This man is a monster and we need justice to be served." With that Tony looked at the States Attorney Clark, stood up and walked back to sit down next to his mother.

Clark walked towards me as I sat on the end of the bench. I sat on the end so I would not have to step over anyone, as I knew I would be nervous anyway. My legs were bouncing all over the place. I had asked Clark if I could bring my bottle of water with me. My mouth was as dry as it could have been.

Clark answered, "You have to leave it there."

I looked up at him and implored, "Pleeeease?"

Clark turned to the judge and asked if it would be all right if I kept my bottle of water. The judge said I could. I walked up to the witness stand and sat down holding my bottle. My stomach was turning, my legs bouncing. I was trying internally to control myself but I was not doing a very good job.

Clark asked me to state my name. Tim came out fine, but as I started to say Carver it came out of my mouth with the voice of a demon attached. I could not control myself. No matter how hard I tried or what I did it wasn't working.

The Judge then said, "We will take a short recess." He stood up and left the bench.

Clark guided me to a chair almost out of public view. He then asked me, "Can you do this?"

"I have to," I said. He then told me to calm down and we would try again in a few minutes.

As I sat in this narrow hallway down from the courtroom deputy I saw my shadow on the wall. Looking at my shadow I whispered, "We have to do this. We can do it."

I looked out into the courtroom and I could see Herman Motter, Jeffrey's father looking at me. He had a look on his face that said 'good show'. He saw me looking at him and he shook his head from side to side in disgust of me. I looked back at my shadow and said, "I will do this."

It seemed I had a new energy about me. A feeling came over me I could do this. I was called again to the witness chair. As I walked out I thought, "thank you God for helping me."

I sat back down in the witness chair, placed my bottle of water down on the table and pushed it away from me.

"Would you please state your name," Clark repeated again.

"Tim Carver," I said.

"Would you read for the judge your letter?"

"First I would like to apologize for before. This letter is from both my wife and me. We want to thank you Judge for hearing us today. When I first heard of this abuse my family was sitting at a picnic bench in my back yard. It was a perfect night, warm soft breeze, good conversation."

"But my son ended all that when he told us what Jeffrey Motter had done to him. I asked him what he wanted to do and he told me, 'protect other kids from him'. I was so proud of him."

"Motter was a very, very good friend of mine. He did not have many friends, but I offered him all the friendship I could." My breaths were coming faster and the letter started shaking more as I continued but I forged on. "Even when we had a falling out it was me who let him back into our lives. Because of this I will always hold over myself the guilt of bringing him into our family again."

"My wife and I have had numerous fights over this case and the proceedings, specifically how long it takes. It takes too long. Taking nothing from my son who will be affected by this his whole life, it has also been very hard on my family. It has been all negative."

"Much has been said about my life in law enforcement. I could never have been conditioned for going through what every victim goes through, it has been excruciating. I also feel the defense has made a mockery out of my integrity as a police officer."

"In closing, let us not forget my son; Tony Carver is the victim here. We hope and pray justice will be served today. It has been a long, long time in coming. Thank you Your Honor for hearing and listening to our words."

Clark walked up to the witness chair, saying as he walked, "Thank you, Tim."

I picked up my bottle of water and walked back to my seat. When I arrived I sat down next to Stephanie and she gave my thigh a long squeeze. We looked at each other both glassy eyed. No words needed to be spoken; it was all said in the touch.

After I was seated States Attorney Clark turned towards Judge Peterson and said, "Your Honor, the State rests."

Defense attorney Theodore Wilson II then approached the judge's bench, "Your Honor Mrs. Patricia Motter, Jeffrey's mother, would like to read a statement. Patricia, would you please step up to take the witness chair."

Mrs. Motter shuffled to the witness chair. She did appear the old frail woman. Hard to believe all the hate that frail body held for me. "First Patricia, I would like to ask you a few questions. Was your son Jeffrey ever a problem?"

"Never. I mean sometimes he would make me mad and I would have to yell at him the same any parent would do in teaching their child right from wrong."

"Did he work and help out at home?"

"Yes, he started working at a very young age. Mostly he is self-taught. Jeffrey is very smart. He has also helped us, his father and me, with bills and he was always buying us gifts."

"Patricia, would it produce a hardship for you and your husband if Jeffrey would be gone for a long length of time?"

"Why yes, it would. As I said before he helps with our bills. We are on social security and don't have very much money."

"Thank you very much Patricia. Now is there something you would like to say to the judge?"

"Yes. Judge," as she began to speak she turned in her chair to face Judge Peterson, "Jeffrey is a good boy and a wonderful son. I still don't believe he has done anything wrong to anyone. He has only helped people, even the Carvers, although they won't say that or maybe conveniently forgotten."

"We need Jeffrey at home, don't take him away."

As Mrs. Motter walked back to her seat, Mr. Herman Motter was walking towards the witness chair.

"Mr. Motter," Wilson started, "would you tell the judge your name and tell the judge who you are?"

"My name is Herman Motter and I am Jeffrey's father."

"You heard Patricia's answers correct?"

"Yes."

"And you would answer the same way as she did?"

"Yes, I would. Jeffrey is a fine person. He has helped me several times throughout our lives. Many times he has done more for us than many sons would do for their parents."

"Thank you Herman. You may step down." Wilson waited for Mr. Motter to take his seat when he continued, "Your Honor, I know you will take everything into consideration here today. Not only the aggravation but also the mitigation heard here today. This sentence will not only affect Jeffrey Motter but others as well.

In closing statements States Attorney Brent Clark went over numerous items of the case and why Jeffrey Motter deserved a harsh sentence. He was asking for one hundred and forty years. There were fourteen charges and Clark wanted charges one and two to run consecutively, the full seventy years on those two charges and the other charges to be concurrent. After about twenty minutes of going over testimony and stating law, Clark was done.

Theodore Wilson II took about forty minutes to say why Jeffrey Motter deserved a light sentence. He pleaded with the judge that giving him what the State was asking for would in effect be a life sentence. "Jeffrey needs to be able to receive help and in prison that will not occur. I am suggesting a five-year sentence with a doctor's interpretation if he would be dangerous to society. This is fair and will help not only Jeffrey to overcome any problems, if any, but will also help his parents who depend on Jeffrey's income." Wilson then sat down.

Judge Henry Peterson straightened up papers on his desk. He then cleared his throat and started to give his decision of the sentence. "No matter what sentence I give here today not everybody will be completely satisfied with it. If I hand out a heavy sentence Jeffrey Motter and his family will not agree. If I give a light sentence Tony Carver and his family will not agree. I listened to everybody that spoke today and as much as I believe from Mr. and Mrs. Motter that Jeffrey was a good son, I'm sure if you would have asked the Carvers about him five years ago they would be saying the same accolades about Jeffrey. However things had changed in the last five years."

He went on giving arguments of law showing why he was doing what he was about to do. When he finished with the legal foundation he looked up at Jeffrey Motter and said, "Jeffrey Motter I sentence you to two fifty year terms running consecutively and the other charges concurrent.

Theodore Wilson II sprung from his seat; "We will appeal Your Honor."

During all of this I watched Jeffrey Motter, he never changed his expression. He never even moved his head. Stephanie was whispering in my ear, "What does that mean?"

"It means he is getting one hundred years of which he will have to do fifty. He wouldn't be out till his mid-nineties. He's going to die in jail."

Judge Peterson said the case was closed as he struck the gavel on his bench. He then stood up and walked around behind the bench heading to his chambers.

We had thought of another celebration, but we were all completely drained this time around. We all just wanted to go home and be alone as a family, which is what we did.

As we were walking out of the courthouse I was stopped by a deputy who asked me, "I heard about the verdict. What would you have done if it didn't go your way?"

I answered, "What would you have done?" He looked at me and just gave a tilt of his head. We then continued walking out of the courthouse towards our car. I was thinking how this has been the longest chapter in my life but now it was finally over. The talk was of what a beautiful day it was, what was on television tonight and of course, what channel would we listen to on the radio for the ride home. A normal family with normal conversation, it was wonderful. And for which radio channel we listened to, I heard a couple of groans but I tuned in to the country station, and it was perfect timing because at this precise moment the song was talking to me. When I turned it on Willie Nelson and Toby Keith were singing, "Justice is the one thing you should always find." Right now, today, I had found it.
