"Mr. Madsen, your mother was arrested yesterday in a sting operation that was set up to catch her arranging a sexual liaison with an underage boy. The charges against her are Enticing a Minor for Sex and Traveling to Meet a Minor for Sexual Purposes."
Everything around me seems to close in until the only thing I see is a bright point of light. I close my eyes very briefly, gathering myself, and attempting to bring my racing heartbeat under control.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes as Detective Peterson goes on, "Mr. Madsen, I'm very sorry to have to give you this news. I know this is your mother we're talking about." He pauses briefly before continuing. "This must come as a shock and I can imagine that it’s very, very upsetting. But you have to understand that this type of offender is very good at keeping their secret. And most often, women don’t only show interest in teenage boys. Often they’re married, have children of their own… It’s common that people who know them, even those who know them best of all, are still shocked when they find out what they’ve been doing."
I run my hand through my hair and Detective Peterson continues, "We work with a psychologist who helps us out on many of the personal crimes involving a sexual element. If you’re interested in talking to him about this, I can put you in touch. He’s an expert on the subject. He could shed some light. Sometimes that helps."
I nod, but only for show. I’m already educated on the subject. Unfortunately.
I remain quiet, Detective Peterson studying me as I gather my thoughts. "So she just happened upon this website where you had set up a sting?"
He studies me again for a minute. "No. Actually an anonymous tipster let us know that these conversations were occurring between an older woman and underage boys. We can only imagine that it’s someone who knows Mrs. Madsen as they were able to identify her by name, and they had specific information about her online activity. She was having sexually inappropriate conversations with up to five boys, ages thirteen to sixteen. We were lucky that this person knew precisely what information we’d need, to look into the conversations that were occurring. Once we verified the information, we contacted the boys involved and their parents, and then one of our officers posed online as one of the teens and arranged the meeting. Once she was arrested, we seized her phone and computer, and found all the evidence we need to prosecute, not only for the crimes she was arrested for, but for child pornography found on her hard drive as well."
"Oh, Jesus." I feel my breakfast threatening to come up my throat.
"Jake, I’m sorry to tell you that your mother is going to serve jail time. And she’ll have to register as a sex offender when she gets out. Thankfully, she was caught before anything physical happened with the boys, but she will still be prosecuted for the attempts she made." He looks at me with the practiced look of someone used to delivering bad news – a mix of empathy and resignation.
"Are you looking into the anonymous tipster?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "No. There's nothing to look into. The tip was mailed to us with all the information we needed contained in a letter. A lot of people wouldn't give us tips if they couldn't be anonymous. We have no reason to investigate that."
I nod and then start to stand. He stands as well. "Detective, I appreciate you meeting with me in person. I don’t mean to rush out of here, but this is a lot to handle." I hold out my hand to shake his over the desk, and he grasps mine in a firm hold, shaking twice and letting go.
"I know this is a shock, and so if you think of any questions later, please don’t hesitate to call me. If you’re planning on posting her bail, you can call the courthouse to get instructions from them on doing that. Her arraignment is Monday morning. But, Jake, I can tell you, the evidence we have on her is fullproof."
I nod, but I have no intention of bailing her out so I don’t ask for any more details.
"Thank you again, Detective." He hands me his card, nodding again, and I leave.
I walk out of his office, weaving through the station, emotions warring within me. I feel sickness and disgust at the knowledge of what Lauren was trying to do, start a relationship with another fifteen year old? Or a thirteen year old? Jesus. Vomit threatens, and I swallow it down. But something down deep inside of me feels a sort of vindication too. Almost like I couldn’t truly believe she was sick until this very moment. I realize suddenly that I have always believed that my participation allowed her to be sick, not that she was sick despite my participation. Walking through the San Diego police headquarters, it's like a weight that's been sitting on my chest for eight years, gets just a little bit lighter.
I climb in my car and sit there staring blankly through the windshield. I roll down the window and take a deep inhale of the fresh, warm, morning air.
I think about everything the detective said to me again, going over the information in my mind. Fuck, what if that anonymous tipster hadn’t gotten the information he or she did? I scrub my hand down my face. I picture some other teenager meeting up with her… Oh, Christ. If I could call that tipster and thank him or her, I would. But, an anonymous tipster? Really? I wonder at how someone could have identified her by name and known about those conversations. There is no way in hell Lauren told someone about that. It wasn’t like she was the type to get drunk and brag to someone in a bar somewhere about her latest underage sexual conquest. I sit there pondering on this for several minutes, thoughts racing through my brain, going in every direction.
You might be surprised to know that I used to work with computers when I was your age. Was good at it too. I still do it on a consulting basis here and there.
I freeze. No, no, that’s too crazy. It can’t be. I shake my head to clear it, almost laughing at my own ridiculous thought. But if someone good with computers didn’t access hers, how did that information get to the police? And who would want to keep tabs on Lauren's internet activity?
Detective Peterson had said that they were lucky that the tipster knew exactly what information they'd need to be able to look into the online conversations that were occurring.
So, the tipster is someone who is not only good with computers, but is an expert on sex crimes, and works with the police, and therefore knows what specific information they'd need to move forward on an investigation?
I grab my phone and the card Detective Peterson handed me on my way out. I dial his number and when he answers, I tell him who it is and then, "Detective, you mentioned a psychologist you work with who might be able to shed some light on the nature of my mother’s crime. Can I get his number from you, just in case I decide to call him?"
"Oh sure. Hold on, I have his card here." I hear him rifling through what sounds like a pile of papers. "Okay, got it. His name is Dr. Fox and here’s his number." He reels it off but I don’t bother writing it down. I already have that number.
I thank him and hang up, not knowing what to feel. None of this is a coincidence.
As I sit there unmoving, my mind racing, I see two familiar figures get out of a car. Preston and Christine. They close the car doors and start walking across the street toward the station. I get out of my car and call out to them.
"Jake!" Christine rushes toward me and grasps my hands, her eyes flying over my face as if I should be showing some form of physical wound. "Are you okay? Lauren called Preston this morning to post her bail and then we called the station to talk to the detective on the case. One of the officers told us you were meeting with him. We came straight from the airport."
Preston flew in this morning for the same reason I did and he brought Christine to help out with some of the presentations we had today.
"Yeah. I just did. Can we go somewhere and talk about this? Get some coffee or something?"
Preston has walked up now and he says, "Yeah, sure, Jake. But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We’re just here to make sure you’re alright. You’re the one we’re concerned about."
The air whooshes out of me and I clear my throat, feeling suddenly like they’ve giv
en me something that I didn’t even know how much I needed until it was offered. Support.
"Thanks. I appreciate that. Are you going to post Lauren’s bail?" Please say no.
"No, I’m not. We don’t need to have a conversation about why. But, Jake, I want you to know that no. I’m. Not." He looks at me pointedly and then looks away, continuing, "Maybe she’ll make bail eventually but hell if I know who’ll help her." Something in his expression looks pleased.
We’re all silent for a minute and then I gesture to my car. "I can drive somewhere close and then drop you back off at your car."
We all get in my rental car and stop at the first coffee shop we see. We order coffee and sit down.
After we’ve all taken several sips of our drinks, I tell them everything the detective told me. Preston sits there shaking his head, a sorrowful look on his face, and Christine just looks horrified. I wonder if she’s thinking about her own son.
"This isn’t going to reflect badly on the company, is it? On Phil?" I direct my question to Preston.
"I don’t see why it would, Jake. Phil’s been deceased for over a year. Clearly, he wasn’t involved in any aspect of what Lauren’s been doing. In fact, if anything, it looks like this was something she decided to do once he was gone. There’s just no reason to question otherwise. Also, you’re the one running the company now. And obviously, you have nothing to do with this either. However, if it makes you feel better, I can make our lawyers aware of the situation. If anyone prints a word that we don’t like, we will sue for slander. And we’d win."
I nod.
"I don’t anticipate this affecting the company at all. But, Jake, if it does, we’ll face it together, okay?"
I’m silent for a minute, thoughts whizzing through my mind again.
"At least we won’t have to worry about her contesting Phil’s will now," Preston says. "She’ll have to drop that lawsuit. She has other more pressing concerns." He lets out a shallow laugh.
Preston, Christine and I talk through the situation for the length of time it takes for us to finish our coffees, and then Preston tells me to catch an earlier flight and get back home. Clearly, I’m in no frame of mind to be at the office today. I take him up on it. I thank both of them, hoping that they see how much their support means to me, and drop them back off at their car.
As they’re walking away, Christine pauses and I hear her tell Preston she’ll meet him at the car in a second. Then she walks back to where I’m standing and says, "Jake, I haven’t asked you how things are going with Evie? Have you reminded her yet?" She smiles.
She’s talking about our conversation at that clusterfuck of a benefit where Gwen got her claws in Evie. I take a deep breath, looking Christine in the eye. "I fucked up, Christine. I don’t know. I’m still working on it."
She tilts her head, studying me. "Well, then, you have more than one reason to hurry back to Cincinnati, don’t you?" She puts her hands on her hips. "And just a tip, if she won’t listen to you, write your feelings down. Girls like letters." She winks and I can’t help grinning at her. She gives me a quick hug and hurries off to join Preston.
I return to the airport and luckily, there’s a seat on a flight leaving in an hour. I sit down to wait and pull out my phone. I dial Doc's number. He doesn’t answer, but I leave a brief message, letting him know that I just met with Detective Peterson, who he apparently works with, and asking him to call me.
An hour later, I’m sitting on my seat on the plane when I hear my phone ding with a new email. I pull it out, the ding reminding me that I need to shut it off before takeoff.
When I open the email, I see it’s from Doc.
Leo,
I got your message and understood the reason for your call. I’d like you to hear what I have to say without having to respond.
Sometimes people are unpredictable. But often times, they’re not. Over the years, I’ve gotten good at knowing who is likely to surprise me, and who isn’t. People who have certain propensities don’t generally let them go, especially when it becomes clear that a relationship with the object of their obsession is becoming more and more unlikely. Those people generally look to replace that person. You had no way of knowing that and I wasn’t going to put that on your shoulders. But I hope you see why I couldn’t let that happen. I hope you see why I monitored the situation and used my knowledge to intervene.
You fought for other people your whole life, Leo. Despite the fact, that no one ever showed you how to do that, or taught you why that was noble and brave. And then when you needed it the most, no one was there to fight for you. I hope you understand my reasons for doing so now, despite the fact that I've overstepped my bounds.
And it’s my hope that you will see, that I fought for you because you’re worth fighting for.
Doc
Ten minutes later, as the plane rises into the sky, I look out the window at the sparkling blue water disappearing through the clouds. Emotions are threatening to come up my throat, the will to fight stronger than ever. As I lean back in my seat, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, it registers that for the first time, Doc called me Leo. Somehow, he knew I was ready.
CHAPTER 30
When I get home very late that night, I throw on just a pair of workout pants, and go out on my balcony. I sit down on one of the two chairs out there and put my feet up on the ledge, staring out at the city lights. I just sit and let my mind wander. I think about where I came from, all the miserable things I went through to end up in foster care. I think about my mom for a long time, something I've never really allowed myself to do.
She had tried to get clean a couple times. It never took, but when she was trying, I had gotten glimpses of who she might have been if her life had been different, or maybe if she had been strong enough to lift herself above her circumstances, even a little bit. She had tried to bake cookies with Seth and me one time when my dad was out. I got the feeling that she was trying to do something "mom like," trying to be someone she knew she had failed at being so far. She was trying too hard, humming and chatting a mile a minute. But I didn’t care. At least she was finally trying. While they were baking, she got out the cards and asked me if I wanted to learn how to play poker. So she taught me the basic rules and we sat at our small kitchen table and played for toothpicks while Seth watched. It was one of the only times my mom paid us any real attention and I was so happy, I couldn’t stop smiling. But then we smelled something and black smoke started wafting up out of the oven. The cookies were burning. She pulled them out, shrieking, and tossing them on the stove. And then it was like something just died in her eyes, and she retreated back inside to that place that she usually lived, vacant, unavailable. "I always ruin everything," she had said, emotionless. "I never get anything right." And then she had gone to the couch and sat there watching t.v. and drinking for the rest of the afternoon.
She didn’t get it though. She missed the whole fucking point. We didn’t care about the cookies. We just wanted her. So badly, it was like an ache inside that never, ever healed. Having her for that brief time just made it hurt all the more when she turned away from us again. And I had hated myself because I felt like I wasn’t enough to make her want to stay.
She was always so checked out, so absent, so seemingly unconcerned with the horror her sons were living through right under her nose. I always told myself that I didn’t love her because she had never shown any love for me. But the truth was, I did love her. I could admit that now. I wanted so badly for her to love me back and she never had. I wonder for the first time what happened to her that she gave up so completely, gave up her very soul. I let myself feel the hurt that washes over me when I recall the blank look on her face as my stepdad wailed on me, day after day after day.
But sitting here alone on my balcony, it suddenly seems as clear as day that it wasn’t about us. Nothing we could do would ever have been enough for her because she had already given up. She had given up so completely that she was empty inside, just like
Evie had told me in her story all those years ago. But now I understood that that emptiness had everything to do with her, and nothing to do with me. Sitting here in the middle of the night, staring up at the sky, a feeling of peace washes through me, and I can breathe a little easier.
I think about my dad, my stepdad, although he always called himself my dad. Claiming me on one hand, but then never missing the opportunity to remind me that I only existed because my mother was a whore. I had taken that inside and made it my truth, replaying his words again and again whenever I felt weak, seeking for some reason to confirm to myself that I was worthless. I think about it for a long time and realize that I no longer have a burning desire to prove him wrong. I don’t need that anymore. The only person I want to prove anything to is Evie. She’s the only one who ever deserved it.
I think a lot about Evie. I think about how I was always so in awe of the fact that she was so much more than where she came from. But maybe I am too. Maybe we both ended up being better people than the people who raised us, or didn’t raise us, as the case was.
And that’s gotta be rare. Almost as rare as those counterclockwise whorled snails. The thought makes me smile.
I had told her that some people just know things in their heart. Maybe I know a few things in my heart too. Not as many as her, not by a long shot. But perhaps I have something to offer if I work really hard at it. I want so badly to be given that chance. Once upon a time, she had saved me by loving me, by believing in me. Will she be able to again? Even after everything? I hope to God the answer is yes.
I think about the unbelievable turn of events with Lauren, still a feeling of sickness rising up in my chest when I think about how close she came to putting someone else in the same position she had put me in. And Doc… what he had done for me. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it.