Chapter 10
Sterling slept fairly well, given the circumstances. He is processed out by noon, a few hours after the grand jury was retired, hugs all around, with the thanks of a grateful county, delivered by the District Attorney himself. All that was left for the jurors to do was to await their last check from the Clerk of the Court for $80, for these last two days of duty. Sterling has nothing else to do but walk home with his blanket, toiletries, and the previous day’s underwear.
While Sterling had been resting, many of the jurors had spent their night exploring the internet, sometimes with the help of spouses, children or grandchildren. A few had had prior internet exposure; they were not all digital virgins. But only two of them – both middle aged men – had heretofore experienced the sexual side of the medium. Sterling’s instructions had been followed. They had Googled for ejaculation and found the Wiki video which Sterling had mentioned for comparative purposes. That was more than a tad shocking for many. But a little taste of internet potential was not sufficient for some jurors, who started more ambitious searching until, with not much effort, they were thrust into a host of pornography websites. They reacted in different ways, none of them positive as regards the boy witness.
The extent of graphic adult material available on the World Wide Web can only be speculated. A search of the bookshelf at Amazon produces over 150 books on the subject of addiction to pornography, with titles such as The Porn Trap, The Drug of the New Millennium or Porn Nation. Whatever statistics are offered tend to be impressively large, and although they may not exactly be accurate, their presentation in and of itself reflects the authors’ concern that Americans are addicted to porn. Statistics are usually presented in group which tends to maximize their impact. An example:
The pornography industry has grown to a $97 billion business worldwide; 13 billion is in the United States.
Internet pornography in the United States is a $3 billion industry
Every second, $3,075.64 is being spent on pornography, 28,258 Internet viewers are viewing pornography, 372 Internet users are typing adult search terms into search engines, and every 39 minutes, a new pornographic video is made in the United States.
Of 3.5 million Internet searches submitted by youth between February 2008 and July 2009, the words “sex” and “porn” ranked fourth and sixth among the top ten most popular search terms.
The grand jurors of Durham County, North Carolina, would not be expected to knew these statistics (or even to have thought much about the subject previous to Sterling’s presentation). Yet, after their brief internet foray, it is fair to say that many of them believed they were witnesses to a problem engulfing the nation. They wanted to do their bit in providing a solution which meant indicting someone for something.
Academics have said that one of the unwritten roles of grand juries is that they serve to channel public opinion into litigation. Jurors are average citizens, selected at random from the voting rolls, and thus they represent the public and reflect its views, including those on moral issues. If they don’t like something and if they have the opportunity to ride a high horse, they may do so, especially if they have a willing district attorney backing their effort.
Like so much else in the United States the concept of grand jury originated with the British who then refined it over seven centuries. It was a Crown creation, a de facto citizens’ police force that ensured central control over criminal prosecution. When the American colonies adopted the mechanism, however, it acquired a distinctive American flavor. It often substituted for police and prosecutors until those institutions could be developed in the young nation. The juries sometimes had to concern themselves with every day issues affecting citizens, such as bad roads and infrastructure deficiencies. In the Carolinas, for example, legislation was promptly considered if it was suggested by a majority of the county grand juries. Thus, this social/political role for the grand jury, separate from its main objective of issuing indictments, is rooted in American history. For the Durham County jurors to observe the social elements of the Smiley Boy video, then subconsciously to reflect on the general will of the people, and finally to act by issuing an indictment (regardless of how flimsy its legal foundation) would not be inconsistent with history. In fact, if they had failed to consider the larger issue, they would have diverged from their predecessors’ track record.
Carolina today is not exempt from the spirited American public debate on sex and morality sometimes characterized as the “culture wars.” The state has voiced concerns through legislation. Some examples: Soliciting, enticing or coercing a child 16 years of age or younger by computer to commit unlawful sexual acts is a class H felony if the defendant is at least three years older than the victim. Another law defines as a Class C felony the transportation, recording, or inducing of a minor for the purpose of producing a visual representation of sexual activity as part of a live performance. Other statutes criminalize the dissemination of harmful material to minors or allowing a minor to view a live performance harmful to minors. Other laws condemn as felonies the use, employment, inducement, coercion, encouragement, or facilitation of a minor to engage in or assist others to engage in sexual activity for a live performance for the purpose of producing material containing a visual representation depicting such activity.
Over the past several years the state has been awash with citizen concerns over sex. People don’t want sex offenders living next door. The names of people convicted of sex crimes – the definition of which varies by jurisdiction – are put in a national register for ten years. The list is web-accessible, and sex offenders must report in person to the sheriff’s office twice a year. At any given time there are between 250 and 280 sex offenders registered in Durham; they occasionally find themselves in the news. Since anyone can access their current residential address; sometimes neighbors picket in protest against offenders locating in their community; these protests can find a way of getting media attention.
A state once dubbed “Smut Capitol of the U.S.” by federal attorneys and agents, North Carolina removed many pornography businesses after it enacted some of the toughest anti-porn laws in the U.S. Its advocates believed the legislation set a national precedent in its effectiveness in eradicating pornography. After the bill was passed, according to one report, 19 pornography shops closed in one day, representing at least $10 million worth of annual business. “A citizen’s group called ‘Concerned Charlotteans,’ organized by Joseph Chambers, was very instrumental in lobbying for enactment of the law…Somewhere between 500 and 700 adult book stores were doing business across the state…Not only were they selling violence and degrading pornography, but were operating homosexual brothels. The description of the acts transpiring in those establishments is too degrading to describe.” By April 2008, according to the same internet report, a growing number of community leaders were beginning to focus their anti-porn efforts on the Holiday Inn hotel chain – now said to be the nation’s largest distributor of satellite pornography.
Who is winning the culture wars? On one side are the First Amendment supporters who hold that the constitutional right of free speech overrides any harm done by offensive content. Sterling belongs to this camp. Unlike him, however, many other Carolinians in this group acknowledge that much adult media content is indeed offensive, and they admit that the nation would not be worse off if it disappeared. But that removal, they argue, should be brought about with educational programs and the like. Restricting speech, a slippery slope toward un-democracy, should not be among the weapons to fight this disease. In the other camp are the anti-porn fighters, who are backed by citizens fed up with declining American morals as reflected in the prevalence of sex videos and the like. Some of the more vocal members of the grand jury are in this group. In following up on Sterling’s recommendation when they had explored the internet the previous night, they were welcomed into a world they found distasteful. To say that they had stumbled on more information t
han they cared for is to put it mildly. Even the Wikipedia ejaculation video – so accessible, just two typed words and two clicks after switching on the computer browser – some defined as pornographic. Such a video was deemed by them as too graphic for inclusion even in a sex education class. And it was tame compared to the video produced by the young “genius”, which they had watched in the darkened jury room. Given their collectively poor eyesight, only a third of the jury could fit around the small TV at any one time; thus three ejaculation screenings were required. By the third squirt and grunt, they had had enough. Sterling was to be indicted.
Frequently during his short life, Sterling has been his own worse enemy. No doubt in showing his jurors a pathway onto the seamy side of the internet, he had merely meant to be helpful. They seemed so clueless, he thought. He could teach them something new. The boy supported the free flow of information. Personally, he loved to search the bowels of the internet to find data nuggets and gems that could then enrich a school paper for Harvard. But exploring the bowels usually produces more than data nuggets and gems.
A single question remained: indicted for what? The forewoman had a blank form before her. Fortunately Mrs. Abernathy was present to offer suggestions and guidance on how to fill it in. Not wanting to beat around the bush, the assistant district attorney immediately offered for the jury’s consideration the offence of indecent exposure, which is in violation of NCGS § 14-190.9. She passed out a copy of the statute and answered questions.
“How serious a crime?” asked one juror. Mrs. Abernathy explained that a typical sentence might be two years probation, a $75 fine, and 100 hours of community service, exactly the sentence handed down to Theodore R. Phalan in 2002. “How do we decide if there’s been a crime?” asked another. The lawyer explained that for the jury to determine if there is probable cause for believing that the crime of indecent exposure has been committed, four conditions had to be met: “(1) willful exposure; (2) of private parts of one’s person, (3) in a public place, (4) in the presence of one or more persons of the opposite sex.” She cited the relevant case law for the record. Another juror asked if there were laws against putting pornographic images on the internet. Mrs. Abernathy explicated the subject. Case law in this area is not fully developed, as the internet is young and it takes some time for the legislature to pass laws relating to it and then for courts to interpret these laws. There is, however, NCGS 14-190.15 which “criminalizes the dissemination of harmful material to minors or allowing a minor to view a live performance harmful to minors.” She explained that the offense is classified as a Class 1 misdemeanor; to date there had been no cases prosecuted under this statute. The jury asked Mrs. Abernathy some more questions. When they started talking among themselves, she realized that they were ready to deliberate. She and the stenographer left, as grand juries deliberate in secret; no one but jurors are privy to their formal session of deliberation.
After thirty minutes Mrs. Abernathy was called back by the forewoman. She was handed the completed form. At that point District Attorney Miles arrived and thanked them with his closing remarks. When he and his assistant returned to their office, they examined the form.
“This will please Judge Winters,” he said.
“And a cash cow for Stacy James, legal corporation.”
Mrs. Abernathy shares the joke with her boss. Their strategic reaction to the indictment is not in doubt. They have a meeting of the minds; no discussion is necessary. Contrary to myth, prosecutors do not have to abide by the decisions of a grand juror. They can prosecute without an indictment or if handed an indictment, they can refuse to pursue it. A case is often stronger with an indictment, psychologically stronger, and witnesses’ testimony can almost always be used in a trial. Everything is subject, however, to the individual rulings of the trial judge, Judge Winters, in this case. Miles phoned him to tell him the indictments were in. Only Sterling had been indicted. The Judge wanted the DAand his assistant in his office downstairs pronto.
When they met, they delivered the indictment to the Judge, completed in the forewoman’s handwriting. Why was there no indictment for the other three participants or the “black hand” who financed the operation from his Atlanta base? Babette had been called as a witness when the grand jury sat the previous month, and she had testified under use immunity, in advance and irrespective of Sterling’s involvement. She offered nothing of much use to the prosecutors, save for director’s name and phone and the name of the young actor, who lived in an eponymous building. “Sterling something,” she had said. “A very long Greek name,” she had added. Many grand jurors knew the exact building she was referring to, located a few blocks away. Babette’s name, itself, had been provided by the director, testifying under oath, also with immunity. How the grand jury got their names remains unknown to the district attorney, who figures it most prudent not to ask. On this matter he and the grand jury operate with an understanding of “don’t ask, don’t tell.” In fact in their February 23rd meeting, the jurors had first discussed the Smiley Boy video among themselves – it was during a period they were supposed to be deliberating a clear-cut, rather boring strangulation indictment. Outside the presence of county attorneys, their discussion snowballed into a call for action against pornography. Although none had personally viewed the video, one juror had been told about it at dinner by her teenage son. She had shared with her fellow jurors the video’s gist, using general descriptors like “lewd” and “lascivious,” and complaining that the pornographers were “using our own under-aged minors in our very own backyard.” Despite the fact they did not know Sterling’s age nor recognize the lady’s tautology, they certainly shared her indignation. The name and address of the production company had been credited at the end of the video’s disclosure statement:
18 U.S.C. Section 2257 Age & Record Keeping Information
Models, actors, actresses and other persons that appear in any visual depiction of actual or simulated sexual conduct appearing or otherwise contained in all SmileyBoy websites were over the age of eighteen (18) years at the time of the creation of such depictions.
Some of the aforementioned depictions appearing or otherwise contained in or at these sites contain only visual depictions of actual sexually explicit conduct made before July 3, 1995, and, as such, are exempt from the requirements set forth in 18 U.S.C. 2257 and C.F.R. 75.
The owners and operators of this website are the producer (as the term is defined in 18 U.S.C. Section 2257 and 28 C.F.R. Part 75) of all the visual content contained on the Web site. The Custodian of Records for content on this Web site for which the owners and operators of this Web site are the primary producer is/are:
SmileyBoy Communications Inc.
Custodian of Records: SmileyBoy Communications Inc.
Private Postal Box 4783
298 East Main Street
Durham, NC 27712
A simple telephone call to City Hall during a coffee break had produced the names of persons who had registered a business license. “Sounds like foreigners,” they had agreed. The two young Indians were thus the first persons to be subpoenaed, in March. They were indeed foreigners, as charged. One was a Kannadiga-Punjabi intercaste and the other a gay Brahmin from Delhi. The DA had offered them transactional immunity just as Sterling had later wanted. In fact, they had been given this immunity before Sterling’s name was even known to the authorities. It was the director, who had technically overstayed his student visa and was waiting for an extension, who had obligingly provided Sterling’s name to Mrs. Abernathy. That heated the seal of Sterling’s fate. When asked under oath to provide the names of the person behind the operation, the director admitted that he did not know the big man’s identify. He had only dealt with him through his partner. His partner, the blue blooded Delhiite, had also appeared before the grand jury in April. On advice of Manhattan counsel, however, he had invoked the Fifth Amendment from the start; the day after his testimon
y he was on a plane back to the Subcontinent, thus nullifying any attempt by Carolina justice to jail him on contempt. There had been no indictment of the Atlanta pornlord because the District Attorney did not know his name (or location). Sterling had been in a position to provide that information, but had refused. He had greatly angered the DA and his assistant. So the book of law was brought down on the minnow Sterling, while the larger smut fish and sperm whale swam freely away.
In chambers Judge Winters asks the prosecutors why the charge is not felony indecent exposure, which is appropriate when adults expose themselves to a child or children.
“As I understand the internet, any child has access to YouTube. There’s no attempt to keep minors off that website.”
“That is correct, your honor,” Mrs. Abernathy confirms.
He hands them back the indictment form. “The fact the grand jury issued these two indictments seems to suggest felony, doesn’t it? Well, I certainly can’t tell you how to do your job,” he opines. He doesn’t need to say that a felony conviction would more impress the voters – his and the DA’s. Felony indecent exposure carries with it a much heavier condemnation than its lightweight misdemeanor. The options include jail time, probation, fines, restitution, registration as a sexual offender, mandatory court ordered classes and community service, a veritable field day for a hanging-type judge. Much is negotiated between the concerned parties. For North Carolina, the average fine is $500, jail time 30-90 days and 5 years of community service. These are not penalties to be sneezed over.
Sterling sneezes. Having gone a day without training, he will soon make up the loss with double sessions today, one in the afternoon and the other before he went to bed. Now he is dictating a verbatim mental transcript of his testimony. After a momentary delay his words appear, phrase by phrase, on the iMac screen, courtesy of digital dictation/transcription software. He concludes, quoting himself:
“Witness: I invoke my right against self-incrimination, as granted me by the Fifth Amendment of the United States Constitution.”
After reading the result over once, correcting just two minor transcription errors, he FTPs the text, encrypted, to Jeremiah’s Swedish proxy for eventual inclusion on the Smiley Boy Legal Defense Fund website. He adds some welcoming comments of his own onto the website’s blog. Sterling is quite pleased with Jeremiah’s work. Following Sara’s suggestion, he has pixilated Sterling’s face and private parts; they have been altered ever so slightly to subtlety obscure their owner’s identify. In fact, his name is not mentioned anywhere on the website. The hacker-turned-designer had not altered the extreme close-up, however, for this is the essence of Smiley Boy. This marketing hook is what would bring in the clicks and the donations, they hope. The tasks completed, he goes down to box. As always Bucephalus dogs him, as if this were her lot in life.
The positive outcome of jail visit is that Sterling is now down to 155 pounds, with only three more to lose. A piece of cake, he thinks. Or, rather, pieces of cake foregone. Only three more hours to dinner, he reflects as he works the speed bag.
His faithful bitch, Bucephalus (named before disengendered), lies in her corner on the floor. The canine boxer tends to tag along with her human counterpart as he moves around the apartment and up and down to the gym. She is his most loyal supporter; but she certainly doesn’t need anyone to open doors for her. She can open them on her own. Bucephalus is about as intelligent as a boxer can get. Some people say boxers aren’t very smart. An internet site, a frequent target for Sterling’s ridicule, ranks dog breeds by intelligence. Boxers place 48th out of 80, slightly below average. The ranking comes from a book The Intelligence of Dogs, the only intelligent aspect of which is the author’s cleverness in being able to con the public to buy such nonsense. Rating canine intelligence is quite ludicrous, the boy notes, for we don’t even know how to rate human intelligence, much less that of our most loyal species.
It’s best not to get Sterling started on human intelligence tests. Sterling let his Mensa membership lapse at age eight, concurring with Groucho’s remark: he did not care to belong to a club that accepted people like him as members. As a member of Mensa from the age of five, he has never had much respect for tests that are used to show that one person has more brain power than another. “Just look at me,” he’s told friends. “They say I’m about the smartest in the species; if that’s so, humanity is up shit creek without a paddle.” He particularly feels that way this afternoon, after his release from detention. It’s not usual for Sterling to be depressed and this feeling especially unnerves him today for he knows, in his mind, that he should be feeling lifted up, having just battled Lady Justice and won. It’s at this point he envies his canine companion, who accepts Sterling, faults and all, a model for Sara. Bucephalus, who can open doors and take the elevator, purports a different type of intelligence from Sterling’s. She, like her putative master, lives a life of chips. Sterling’s are in the electronic gadgets that assist and somewhat control his life; Bucephalus’ are around her fur line. Under the skin she is microchipped for identification and vaccination purposes; she also wears a GPS dog collar. Her most unusual chip is one that does indeed open doors and controls the elevator. It involves wireless technology, details of which she, like most humans, need not know. When the dog feels an urge to go out for a walk, she stands by the elevator. It is electronically beaconed by her collar. It arrives, she steps aboard, it descends, she walks by the gym to the back entrance and out the doggie door which can flip open only when she is with ten feet of it. Sterling himself helped install the electronics a few year’s back. He had trained Boo which was done by playing follow-the-leader with her. He moved on his hands and knees onto the elevator and through the doggie portal for several weeks (granted, Bucephalus is not a poodle which could have learned the procedure in several minutes). He had to clean up after a few accidents during the trials, but eventually Bucephalus was able to go solo. Sterling then invited the B Club members over to see Boo in action. Sterling stood outside the closed door and called the dog. She didn’t come; he kept calling, wishing for success and not wanting to be the laughing stock of his fellow tykes. The kids were occasionally banging on the inside of the door, probably to get Bucephalus’ attention. Like her master, she could sometimes be stubborn. He kept calling. Actually, Bucephalus was trying her best to get out the door to answer her master’s call. Someone, undoubtedly the Trips, had sabotaged the electronic door and Bucephalus kept running into it at full speed trying to get out in response to Sterling’s ever more intense pleas. Finally the entire door opened. His father appeared with the strap. Pandely had witnessed this bit of animal cruelty from inside, where the pre-teens were in stitches over Bucephalus’ predicament and her inability to comprehend what was happening. Sterling on the other side of the door had heard the bumps but thought they were just a boy banging on the door. He was given the opportunity to explain, pleading his guilt in silence; there, in front of his friends, he dropped his shorts and received a severe thrashing. Bucephalus, for her part, didn’t understand the pain Sterling felt; she obediently remained by his side to share in the game. Afterwards he had certainly learned a valuable lesson; for the life of him he didn’t know what exactly it was.
As he continues with some sit-ups, he wonders how long he will be sharing the proverbial doghouse with faithful Bucephalus. The talk with his parents is scheduled for after dinner. This is to be a serious family sit-down. Sara is invited; well, she’s cooking dinner and sleeping with the in-house perpetrator, they can’t very well exclude her. Before he commences some shadow-boxing, however, he checks his messages. There’s another one from Buffeau who has been text-bullying him for the past 48 hours demanding a rematch. He tells him to come at 5 P.M. and asks how the lacrosse match went. “We lost,” Buffeau replies; “it was close; if you had been there we would have won,” he notes, adding a smiley with a downturned grin. Sterling is not a fan of emoticons a
nd wonders if Buffeau knows about the Smiley Boy video and is thus including the smileys just to irritate him. The Buffer, the newly arrived irritant in Sterling’s life, seems like such a snooper, too. There are no messages from Billy, which is surprising, but there’s a message from Daryl, which is even more surprising. For reasons unbeknownst to Sterling, his teenhood friend Daryl has been avoiding him since at least around the time he made the video. Sterling guesses that perhaps Daryl found out about the video and was offended. Daryl is a bit of a prude. More than a year older than Sterling, Daryl was dating Susan in the months just before she died. He’s pretty sure they had never had much sex (in fact Susan’s autopsy had confirmed her virginity), and he thought that Daryl was more Mormon than he let on, or that was what Susan had jokingly said. Mormons follow a strict rule of sexual conduct called the Law of Chastity, which prohibits extramarital and premarital sex, pornography, masturbation, and homosexuality. Daryl tolerated Billy just as he had tolerated the Friday nights, for one reason: he had had a crush on Susan and the Friday night assemblies were an excuse to see her. Daryl had not provided a sperm sample for testing, however. Sterling posited the theory that Daryl’s beliefs conflicted him with guilt because of his associations with Sterling’s gang. Surprisingly Daryl had not been at the funeral; it was said he was inconsolable in his grief and had sought consolation in his Faith. All the other Friday nighters, however, had been there. The Trips had spontaneously burst into a rendition of Amazing Grace, after which they had wept in unison, a genuine emotion infecting the crowd. At that very moment – sit-up 36 – Sterling does not feel his usual hatred toward the Trips; he had noticed the effect of their sweet voices on the mourners, producing a becalming, almost satisfying, sadness within him, also. He had been told the trio, now mature tenors, were exceptionally talented, although his own ears and brain cannot differentiate quality from noise, which is probably why he had never respected the Trips for their good qualities which, granted, are obliterated by their more salient evilness.
Over the last several months, Daryl has pulled a vanishing act. He suddenly appeared at Sunday’s birthday party only to whisper to Sterling they must talk. Then Sterling had been detained by the cops and did not have a further chance to see Daryl. Now there was a mysterious message, desperately shouting in caps: URGENT MUST TALK SOON AS POSSIBLE. Sterling has much on his plate, what with his boxing, his legal issues, and the intensity of his new relationships, with Sara (good) and his parents (less good). Daryl must go to the back of the line, unless he has some reason to jump the queue. Could he be suicidal, Sterling wonders. Mormons don’t super-condemn suicide. Their attitude is more one of compassion, without approval. Not subjected to a Vatican type of vituperative condemnation, perhaps Daryl is conflicted on this subject, too. And, if he is still depressed over Susan’s death...Sterling lets him jump the queue. Come over some time tomorrow, he texts back.
He decides to jump rope rather than shadow-box. His mind is wandering too intensely for shadow boxing. What will happen at the family confab? Sterling himself expects the worse: he might be grounded indefinitely, even not allowed visitors; his parietal rights may be severely curtailed, making it more difficult to further feather the lovenest. He can only guess what his parents have in store for him. His father has not taken the strap to him for years, although on occasion he has threatened to. If put to the test Sterling has wondered if he would let his father abuse him with their “I-love-you-son-I-love-you-dad” type of punishing bullshit. He once went so far as to check out state rules on corporal punishment on-line. The Child Protective Services manual says: “Parents have a right to discipline their children. Done appropriately, spanking and the use of corporal punishment are not considered child abuse.” “Appropriately” is one of those meaningless words one uses when vagueness is desired. The relevant state statutes are equally vague and often mention the age of 18. Unless emancipated a child of the Carolinas, it seems, is subject to his/her parent’s discipline until age 18. Courts in North Carolina have adopted parental privilege by decision, which is to say that if a parent were charged with a crime such as battery, the parent could raise the defense of parental privilege and avoid criminal liability by demonstrating that his use of force against his child was a reasonable exercise of the parental right to discipline. But you reach legal majority at 16 in North Carolina. In any case, after some age, 16 or 18, beating a child would be the same offense as one person beating another, in other words battery, defined as “the intentional touching of another person against that person’s will or by an object put in motion by the perpetrator.” Battery need not cause actual physical injury to the person and is still considered a civil offense. Sterling has no desire to take his father to court on a battery charge, but the option is worth exploring, intellectually. In any event, the limits of parental privilege cannot be easily defined but rather are adjudicated on a case-by-case basis and stated in terms such as “reasonable under the circumstances.” Still, it’s all moot. Sterling has no desire to ever again see the inside of a courtroom. As an articulate victim, however, perhaps he’ll write about child beating.
Corporal punishment is indeed a popular way of dealing with misbehaving children in North Carolina; as pre-teens many of his friends had their bottoms smacked on occasion, although Sterling figures no one came close to receiving his amount of hiding. The Trips have never had a hand laid on them. Their parents worship the holy ground they tread upon; they never even scold the boys, which they continue to see as a pure gift from God, in His own images. John Dewey, for all his mischievousness, also gets away with everything, perhaps playing the autism card. Sterling doesn’t know to what extent he can turn on and off his autism; he holds suspicions. Jeremiah’s original dad beat him with a stick and he has a restraining order against him; he’s on great terms with his step-dad, who he employs in his web security business. William, of course, is too timid to ever do anything that merits a beating; Senior would never lower himself to beat the dog, much less the child.
The inevitable arrives, in the form of Brandon Buffeau. He steps over Bucephalus, who doesn’t deign to recognize his presence (The dog has refined tastes.). Sterling wishes he could do the same. Brandon is all business, throws off his warm-ups, and steps into the ring, ready to fight. He does some stretches on the ropes to show off his muscles. Sterling hands him the headgear. After a moment of reflection, Brandon puts it on. Sterling sets the clock, enters the ring and waits for the bell. It rings, they tap gloves at center ring, and start to box.
Sterling is the more aggressive and his pounding at Brandon’s midsection drives him to the ropes. Brandon breaks free and keeps his distance. Then it’s like a ballet; he dances in and out, side to side, weaving, feinting, in order to draw Sterling out of position, forcing him to shoot short. Neither lands punches. Sterling works for an opening; Brandon works to avoid one. The bell denotes the end of the round. They retire to their respective corners for a swig of water. Pandely, who had arrived during the middle of the round, is now whispering to Brandon, as if he were the boy’s second. Sterling notes this. The bell rings. They start throwing punches, Brandon now less the ballerina. They fight tight, inhaling each other’s perspiration. They exchange punches, each landing one or two, while Sterling waits for a chance for another upper right to the chin, the punch that had previously decked the Buffer. From the corner, his father is yelling ‘right…right…right.’ Sterling doesn’t have time to mull this over; in any case the instructions are for his opponent. If he had time to think about it, Sterling would not know why his father would suggest that Buffeau attack from his right, against Sterling’s left, which is his supposedly stronger side. As his inner brain is trying to figure this out – Freud would say his unconscious – Buffeau lands a clean left to the face that staggers Sterling. He shakes it off. His father jumps into the ring, separates the fighters, has a look at Sterling’s face and gives the signal for the fighters to s
top. Brandon is as shocked as Sterling, not knowing what he had accomplished or how. Pandely has somehow given him a strategy that worked. Sterling, however, knows exactly what has happened; he has been fuckin’ Timberlaked. His father had told Buffeau to use his left and to ignore what he was yelling from the corner. What he yelled was misdirection intended for Sterling, one a coach’s oldest tricks in the book. Sterling had been out conned. What he had done to the lady ultimate opponent (‘You missed two’) , his father had done right back to him. What goes around comes around.
Pandely ignores his son and chats with Buffeau:
“Very good, son. You saw the hole and plugged it. You should have gone in for the kill. Remember only the ref should stop your aggression.”
“Yes, sir,” Brandon concedes. He won’t make that mistake again.
Pandely continues: “Height and reach are not that much of an advantage in boxing. In fact, they just make for a bigger target. If you have smart hands, you’ll find the target. Don’t think, just fight. You did good, son.”
Twice his father had used the s-word and Sterling is annoyed. His father hasn’t been so loquacious to the legitimate owner of the s-word for a long time, if forever. Is he trying to make Sterling jealous?
“You going to fight next week in the qualifiers for the under-19?”
“I’m registered, sir.”
“Good. Let me know who your opponent is, I’ll try to do some scouting.”
Thanks a lot, dad, Sterling thinks.
“Let me give you the trick to winning,” Pandely continues, reasoning Buffeau to be an admirable listener. “In all sports, all athletic contests, there are four things that count. This holds true for football, or for the Tour of France, ping pong or even rhythmic gymnasties. First you have physical conditioning. You look like you’re in good shape, around 152, correct?”
“On the button, sir.”
“Good. Boxers who can’t keep their weight…well, anyway. Second, skill. You need to know strategy, train so that your hand-eye coordination is perfect. Skill is what most coaches and trainers work on. But it’s only one of the four aspects.”
“Yes, sir,” Brandon affirms. Sterling shakes his head. The kid is such a brown-noser; Pandely better not fart.
“Third, and this is absolutely essential. People say, ‘How can so-and-so win? He’s not as good as so-and-so.’ That can be true, you can lack the skill or you can be out of shape but you can still win. Why’s that, son?”
Pandely pauses. It was not a rhetorical question. Sterling smiles. Brandon’s probably not even been paying attention to the old windbag. Or if he has he doesn’t have the right response. Sterling knows Pandely’s “trick to winning” talk backwards and sideways; he plans to use the lecture himself on the pee-wees if they ever reach the point they need it.
Brandon points to his own head and then to his heart. “It’s up here, sir, or down here. It’s inside, anyway. Winning’s very psychological. In boxing it’s called boxer’s heart, isn’t it? But I think it has more to do with having the psychological edge, which includes wanting it more than your opponent.”
Pandely nods his approval and hugs the boy. This is too much for Sterling, who bounds out of the ring to head up stairs. Bucephalus notices but ignores. She prefers to remain with the new boy and the old man.
Dinner is quiet for Sterling because he’s tuning out all the praise Pandely is shoveling on Buffeau. Fortunately, Brandon turned down his father’s invitation to join them for the family confab. Mr. Loquacious, nevertheless, can’t stop with reporting on Brandon’s life accomplishments. In their talk, while Sterling had absented himself to shower, Brandon must have presented his full CV…merit this, awarded that, winner of such-and-such, Mensa, bla bla bla. The Trips, for all their many flaws, are at least modest. They never boast about how many gold records they have or about their appearances on Oprah and Letterman. Of course, they have parents to do the PR work for them. Brandon seemed to be his own walking and talking PR machine. Sterling wished someone would pull his plug.
Dinner is perfect as always. Pandely and the two women are eating a tuna casserole that is so good it doesn’t taste like a tuna casserole. Everyone thinks it is chicken. Sterling has a different meal: raw vegetables, no dressing, a large, lean steak and a bucket of hardboiled eggs. No carbohydrates whatsoever. In a low-carbs cookbook – Sara had brought her collection cookbooks for the summer visit – she had found a diet for athletes who need to lose weight. The author’s son was a high school wrestler. The diet is simple: one day limited carbs; the following day carb-free. Sterling eats the food in resignation. He would do anything to lose the last two pounds; this meal is getting him closer to that achievement.
“Dad, if you’re finished, perhaps we can talk about your other son, me.”
Pandely lets the remark slide. He looks up to his wife. Catherine is running the show.
“Sterling, your father and I have had a long discussion. We also talked with your attorney. This matter that you’ve gotten yourself into, because you failed to take your lawyer’s advice, is far from over. But that’s not what we’re really worried about. It’s more the underlying causes that have gotten us to where we are. I say “us” because this is not just your problem. You are the family. In fact, children are always more important than parents. You’re our hope for the future. So we share your problem. And any solution will impact us all. Am I clear so far?”
“Yes,” he says, though he’s not clear at all where his mother is heading. Take away her condoms and the woman has focus issues.
“Sara is here because she is an important part of your life, our life. We have no objection. We hope she might have a stabilizing effect. And, of course, you know we miss not having a daughter.”
She pauses and takes a breath.
“So your father and Sara and I are willing to suffer with you. It’s a radical intervention but we all feel, we have no choice.”
“You want to tell me what the punishment is, please?” he says a bit exasperated.
“Let’s go into your room.” She rises, Sterling follows her down the hall. Pandely and Sara stop at one of the storage rooms off the hall to collect some boxes.
Sterling’s room is its usual tidiness. Each electronic devise is in its rightful place. Catherine has brought with her a pad and pen. She asks Sterling to sit at the desk; she moves the keyboard to make room for the pad. She hands him the pen.
“We will first do an inventory.”
He moves the keyboard back to its correct location. “I’ll use a spreadsheet; it’ll be quicker.”
“No,” she says. He shrugs and does as instructed. He takes the pen. He hates pens and pencils.
She goes into the closet and extracts from the shelf a black handheld device with buttons. This is an Xbox 360 console, the 250 GB S model and new-style controller. It was a Christmas gift from his grandparents four years back. It resides on the shelf not because it is outdated and useless but rather because Sterling sets it up only if a visitor wants to play games. Sterling has never been much into games. He likes to master a game once in a while, but he not a committed player. He doesn’t waste his time on internet games, either. Further back on the shelf are some earlier versions of the Xbox, which Catherine hauls down. Pandely and Sara arrive with some boxes. It seems that every original carton that’s ever contained something electronic has been kept by the family. Sara finds the Microsoft box for the 360. Catherine hands the unit to her and speaks to Sterling.
“Turn the pad lengthwise and put the name of this contraption, model number…” she says, turning to Sara.
Sara reads off a model number from the underbelly of the unit. Sterling writes this down.
“…source, this was from my parents, correct?” He nods. She continues:
“and approximate value or what it would fetch on eBay. For example, what it would be worth for tax purposes if it was don
ated to the Salvation Army.”
Sterling thinks for a second and prices it at $100-150. No big deal, he thinks. Let them take away the games. He hardly ever uses them. Sara is wrapping it in its original box, putting the packing in place. When she finishes, she hands it to Pandely who is in charge of taping the box closed. Meanwhile, Catherine has located some accessories and components, including four big button pads, a flight stick and a stack of games themselves, including Halo 3. Sara puts related stuff in a generic box and marks it Xbox 360 and briefly describes the contents.
Catherine opens up the closet door fully. Along the shelf are other gaming consoles, including a Sony PlayStation 3 and a Nintendo Wii. These were also gifts from his grandparents, in 2007 and 2008 respectively. One was inherited from his sister. Each is entered on the pad, boxed, its accessories boxed, labeled and taped. Pandely, in addition to being in charge of taping, is the box retriever. Sterling can only guess at their current value. He jots down $200-300 for each and $50 for accessories.
When the closet has been stripped of electronics, Catherine goes to various nooks and crannies and retrieves anything that contains a chip. Even the alarm clock is not spared. She then attacks the desk. She opens up the bottom drawer, a veritable rodent graveyard. Members of the Eumorfopoulos family are packrats. Sterling seems to have saved every mouse he’s ever owned, those with tails, wireless ones without tails, one button mice for Macs, two button mice for IBM, scroll-wheel enabled, even a mouse in the design of a naked lady, her breasts designed for left and right clicking (a Christmas gift from an anonymous Friday nighter). There’s even an Apple desktop bus which predates Sterling. All are registered, boxed and sealed away. Catherine rids all the other drawers of any material that relates to computers: disks, flash drives, cables and the like are dumped into a carton. She finds several digital cameras, some mp3 players, a few expired iPods, two earlier issues of iPhone and various other hand-helds. She then points to the scanner/printer. Pandely nods and finds the appropriate box. Sterling protests:
“Hey I use that for school work,” he protests.
“Not any more,” his mother replies.
“You can’t do this. You can’t just take everything I own. I have rights.” Catherine looks at Pandely.
“You need to earn back those rights. You live under our roof, you obey our rules.
“That’s our agreement,” Pandely explains.
Sterling can only cast a hateful glare at this parents; he now regrets having made a jailhouse agreement. He looks to Sara for support. She is preoccupied with sorting out the electronic gizmos, dutifully providing serial numbers. She offers her boyfriend no sympathy. Pandely starts to unscrew the Sharp 19-inch LCD HD television that is mounted on the wall. Catherine continues:
“We will give you three hours to clean up your computer. Then it gets boxed. I suggest you use the time wisely, close all your email accounts, tidy up any financial affairs. You should completely erase your presence from the internet. We have already told Jeremiah to do the same for you.”
Sterling gets out his iPhone to send a quick message to Jeremiah to contravene his mother’s order. Before he gets very far, his mother goes to take the phone out of his hand.
“You’re taking my fuckin’ iPhone!”
Without reflecting Catherine does something she has never done before. With her free hand she slaps her son across the face.
“You watch your language in front of me and Sara. Do you understand?”
Sterling, shocked, nods that he understands. He should have immediately appologized; he had forgot. He and his mother are both still holding an end of the iPhone. He releases his grip. She hands the phone to Sara who then addresses Sterling’s mother:
“He should tell everyone he’s not using the phone anymore.”
Catherine assents and Sara returns the phone to Sterling with its appropriate box so he can send out a terminal message.
Out the side of his eye, Sterling spots the Dell, wondering if it can escape his mother’s wrath. She follows his glance and walks to the Dell. She retrieves it and hands it to Sara.
“You have three hours to pack up the computer,” she says, facing her son and pointing to the iMac. She then walks over to Sterling who can barely control himself from shaking with rage.
“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have slapped you. That was wrong,” she says calmly and coolly, meaning every word. She then looks at her husband and Sara and together they leave the room.
Sterling observes his life in packed boxes. He closes his eyes and reflects. He shuts down the phone after a terminal message. He, himself, packs it into its original Apple box. He is so angry. He takes it out of the box. He finds a hammer and smashes the phone beyond recognition and returns the remains to its box. Then he begins to sob. He gets on the iMac and sends out similar bulk texts to everyone in his address book, to all his Facebook friends and to the Friday nighters on Twitter saying simply, “I have closed this account effective immediately.” One by one he then disables accounts or sets automatic replies. He deregisters his credit card from a dozen merchants. He informs his bank and stockbroker and opts out for paper correspondence whenever possible. Over the following three hours he erases his existence.