My Justice My Revenge

  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 lunc
h 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 a
lready 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.