“What would that be?” I ask Glenn.
“Well, have there really been any great new developments in that case? I mean, why do this?”
I swallow hard.
It’s the moment of truth.
I lean back against the chair and turn a little bit more toward the audience, still keeping my eyes on Glenn.
“Actually, I have a little bit of a surprise. I have been working on another story, undercover, so to speak. This is as good a time as any to bring it all to light.”
“New story?” Glenn asks.
His demeanor changes. He’s no longer his usual soft, cuddly, and confident self.
Instead, I feel his nervousness rise up to the surface.
I look into the audience of producers and cameramen and out of the corner of my eye, I see Franklin.
His head is buried in his phone. After a moment, he looks up, glaring at me.
I turn to Glenn and say, “I have been working on a story about powerful men coercing and sexually assaulting underage girls. I have videos of all of these incidences, recorded by surveillance cameras inside the home of the owner of this network, Franklin Parks.”
The studio gets so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. As I tell him about everything that Aurora has found, I watch Franklin rush over to the control room to stop the broadcast.
But Aurora is too fast. She locks the doors and he’s left pounding on the glass from the outside.
“Franklin Parks has orchestrated the systematic abuse of multiple underage girls from underprivileged backgrounds. I have proof of all of these men coming in and abusing these girls under his roof. Let me show you what I’m talking about.”
I point Glenn’s attention to the monitor in front of us and watch the first video of the governor of New Jersey and the girl with the blacked-out face in Franklin’s massage room.
Big portions of it are, of course, cut to protect the innocent. Most of the content is too graphic to show on the morning news but Jackie has edited enough of them together to show the face of the governor, the attorney general, the senator from New York, and a few other higher-ups that regular people would recognize.
“This is hard to believe,” Glenn says, shaking his head. “But at the same time, the videos… How did you get these?”
“I have a source and he or she is willing to come forward at the right time and place. Given the power of the people that are involved in the crime, I decided that the best way to expose the truth is to show the American people directly.”
I’m about to say something else but before I know it, Franklin jumps on stage and punches me in the face. Blood gushes into my mouth and I make a fist and swing at him. I make contact and he falls to the floor. I punch him again and again. When I take a breath, he raises his hand and knocks the wind out of me.
I pause for a moment to try to catch my breath and when I look around all I see are phones pointing in my face.
Everyone is recording everything.
“How could you do this to me?” Franklin whines and punches me again in the ear.
My head starts to buzz and I lose my footing.
“How could you do this to them?” I bark back, bashing him in his chin. He falls down again, this time without getting up.
Aurora rushes out of the control room and grabs onto my hand. I look down at my knuckles. The skin has been torn off and they’re bleeding profusely.
Being the professional that he is, Glenn doesn’t stop reporting. It’s almost as if having a real story right before him, unfolding right here in the studio, invigorates him. Instead of trying to cut to a commercial to protect the station, he grabs the microphone and walks right to me.
“Henry Asher,” he asks, “can you tell me what just happened? How are you feeling? How did you feel having your boss, the CEO of this company, jump right out here on stage and punch you on live television, in front of all of America?”
“Well, I was a little bit surprised,” I say, still trying to catch my breath. I take a few forceful breaths and add, “Perhaps I shouldn’t be. We have exposed his lies and his secrets and now everyone knows who he really is.”
Franklin doesn’t get another chance to hit me.
The FBI are already here. They have been waiting in the wings and they put him in handcuffs right in front of all of the cameras.
That was the deal. They promised Aurora that they wouldn’t arrest him until the live broadcast.
It took her some time to convince them. They weren’t sure it was such a good idea but she promised them that he would incriminate himself.
She was right.
34
Henry
After they arrest Franklin, Aurora follows me to the makeup room and applies ice to my face.
Neither of us know what to say for a while. This is only the beginning of the story. She checks her phone and scrolls through Twitter.
Stories and comments start to appear like an avalanche. The first story to hit, the one that Franklin saw on his phone before he tried to break into the control room, was written by me for Tate News, an online magazine owned by Tate Media that Aurora arranged placement for.
I spent all night last night writing up all the details, quoting and verifying sources when I could. The story is developing and ongoing.
Aurora is not the only eyewitness as there were other employees who have seen things but have been forced to sign nondisclosure agreements to keep quiet. When I told them about the tapes, they finally decided to come forward.
At first, I was categorically against Aurora’s plan. I wasn’t sure that we would be able to pull it off.
So many things had to go right.
I had to write the right story. The story had to be published. Besides the fact that it also had to be fact checked by the editor.
Nothing was set in stone.
We had agreed on the date and everyone promised to keep their word to not disclose it until it was published, but that was just one part one of the plan.
Aurora wanted to expose Franklin on television. Live.
We had no idea what kind of relationship he had with his anchors or the producers of the morning show so we couldn’t let any of them in on what I was about to do.
So, we hatched the plan that I would come on the show to promote my podcast. Franklin had arranged the whole thing, but little did he know that the story would actually be about him.
When he found out, he tried to get into the control room and stop it from happening but Aurora was already there. She had locked the doors and she told them to keep rolling. The more I talked, the more the executive producer believed us.
So, when she put in the cut-up video files to broadcast for everyone to see, Franklin couldn’t stop her.
None of this was a given or certainty.
There was a lot of luck involved.
The one thing that I did not expect him to do was to rush the stage but that just added to the sizzle of the story. After that, social media took over and it blew up.
“How is this?” Aurora asks, pressing the ice to my eye.
“It’s fine,” I say, pushing it away.
In reality, the ice is more painful than the bruise.
Aurora continues to scroll through her phone, checking Twitter and Facebook and the stories directly on Google News.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“The news outlets seem to be picking it up. It’s definitely trending. More and more people are retweeting and talking about it. Your article has a thousand comments already.”
I lie back in the chair and smile.
“Okay,” I say quietly to myself.
I did something good. I don’t know what’s going to happen from here but at least I did my part.
“Everything is going to work out, right?” Aurora asks, taking my hand in hers.
I snap out of the trance and look into her big, wide eyes. Suddenly, I remember that she had to do a lot more to get here than I did.
I wrote the article, I told the world
what was going on, but it was she who did all the dirty work.
If she didn’t get those recordings, if she didn’t risk her life, and if she didn’t let him hurt her, to some degree, none of this would’ve happened.
The FBI assured me that they were going to press charges. We gave them a lot of evidence. There’s still a lot to go through but it has to work out.
Aurora shakes her head, clenching and unclenching her jaw.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she says with tears welling up in her eyes. “I want to be happy and I want to celebrate but I just have this heavy heart. What if we haven’t done enough?”
There’s a knock at the door and Agent Richter walks in. I’ve only talked to him once before, when I came into his office and told him about our plan.
Then I invited him to the studio to watch the show unfold in real time. I wasn’t sure if he was going to show up. Frankly, I wasn’t sure if he even believed me.
He walks over to me and shakes my hand.
Then he does the same thing to Aurora.
“We have a lot of evidence to go through and we do not like to go public before we have all of our ducks in a row but Henry told me that that was the only way you were going to do it. In either case, I appreciate all the investigative work you two have done. We’re going to do our best to make those assholes pay for it.”
We talk a little bit more about the details of the legal process to come but when I see Aurora’s eyes glazing over and the tiredness that has built up from the last few months catching up with her, I cut the conversation short.
“This has been quite a stressful day for us, Agent Richter. I hope you don’t mind but we would like to go home, get some rest, and regroup. If you need us for anything, we are always available.”
“That’s a very good idea, son,” he says.
After watching him walk out of the room, I reach over and grab Aurora’s hand. I interlace my fingers with hers and squeeze tightly.
35
Henry
The next two weeks are a blur. We spend most of them in bed and the rest talking to authorities and giving statements. Everyone wants to hear everything firsthand.
That’s okay.
We want to tell the story. The world deserves to know. There are, of course, hundreds of opposing articles written by Franklin’s people and the defenders of all of those powerful men that went down with him but that doesn’t stop us.
Whoever believes us, believes us. We try to control the narrative as much as we can by saying yes to as many interviews as possible but at some point, it all becomes too much.
Then, we get the bad news.
“Franklin has made bail,” Aurora says, rushing over to me with her phone.
We stare at the screen.
I don’t believe the headline.
Aurora doesn’t either. She goes to Google News and scrolls through ten others that say basically the same thing.
“How could they let him out?” she asks. “Don’t they know who he is?”
I shake my head. “I guess that’s the point of the trial.” I want to say but I know better.
Franklin Parks got out because he had the money and the power to get out. He hired the right lawyers and they made the right deals.
Besides, what did we expect? That the most powerful man running the most powerful media company in the world is actually going to waste away in prison awaiting trial?
“I need to go there,” Aurora says. “He’s getting out this afternoon and I want to be there.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I say.
She shakes her head no and says, “I don’t care.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why do you want to be there?”
“I don’t know, I just feel like I have to. I want to make sure that this is actually happening.”
We both know that this is a terrible idea but we both go anyway.
When we get to the courthouse, there are reporters and onlookers surrounding the place. The police have roped off parts of it but this is public property and everyone is entitled to be here.
Aurora pushes her way to the front and stands right behind the rope.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I whisper, but she ignores me.
She’s wearing a hoodie and dark sunglasses and I hope that none of the reporters will recognize her.
So far, so good.
“Let’s stay a little bit in the back.” I try to urge her and pull her away but she just nudges my hand off her shoulder.
“I have to be here. I have to see him walk out,” Aurora says.
“Please don’t do anything,” I plead. I have a feeling that something terrible is about to happen.
She shakes her head.
“He’s not worth it. I don’t want this to be any worse for you.”
But she ignores me. I wait beside her with a cloud of impending doom around me. I can’t predict the future but I know that we shouldn’t be here. I need to save her. I need to take her away, but she refuses to budge.
Time passes slowly. The next ten minutes feel like an hour.
Finally, the doors open and Franklin comes out surrounded by his army of attorneys.
He makes a brief statement at the top of the steps but then he breaks away and starts to walk down. I glance over at Aurora and watch her eyes laser-focused on him.
She clenches her jaw. Her hands are buried in the pockets of her hoodie but I can see that they are formed into fists. My head starts to pound along with my heart.
What is she going to do?
How can I stop her?
If she runs out and attacks him…the story will become all about her.
There are cameras and phones everywhere. If she were to do anything to him, even look at him funny, it will only diminish her credibility as a witness later on.
I put my hand on the small of her back, but she shrugs me off.
I steady myself for whatever is to come. If she makes a move, I’ll stop her.
“Please don’t do anything,” I whisper into her ear over and over again. “If you do, this whole thing will become about you. And it’s about him.”
“I’m not going to do anything,” she says. “I just want to see the son-of-a-bitch.”
But I don’t believe her.
Franklin walks down a few steps, holding his head up high. I’m staring right at him, and suddenly our eyes meet. He follows my gaze toward Aurora and gives her small, arrogant little smile that says, ‘See, I told you. No one’s going to believe a word you say and I’m gonna get away with everything.’
I don’t take the bait and watch Aurora to make sure she doesn’t either. I tense every muscle in my body, prepared to stop her if she were to even make a flinch in his direction.
Suddenly, the sound of a car backfiring startles me.
A moment later, I realize that it’s a gunshot.
Two more follow.
I grab Aurora and cover her body with my own. I feel her breathing underneath me and hear the beating of my own heart in between my ears.
When I look up, I see Franklin lying on the steps and three puddles of blood growing wider and wider over the steps below him.
Epilogue
Aurora
When I told Henry that I wanted to go to the courthouse to see Franklin, he was worried that I was going to be the one to attack him. What he didn’t expect was that there are other people who have been hurt a lot worse than I have.
What none of us who stood on those white steps knew was the pain of the father who tried to avenge his daughter. The girl was sexually assaulted and raped by my husband and his friends, all prominent men with private planes to their names. Franklin had recorded this scene as well, and the FBI found it on another computer at another one of his homes.
Franklin Parks did not survive the attack. He died on the scene and I wasn’t even a little bit sorry for that.
Afterward, through a lot of paperwork and with the hel
p of many attorneys, Tate Media became mine.
My father had transferred the majority stakeholder position to Franklin shortly before he was arrested and after his death, I had inherited it along with all of the other properties that he had to his name.
Once the company was mine, I put back all of the money that my father stole from the employees’ pension funds by selling three of my parents’ houses and the majority of their other real estate holdings. The company is barely solvent but with a lot of hard work and additional product lines, I know that I can get it back to profitability.
The trials of the men involved who appeared in Franklin’s video collection are all ongoing. Only two have pled guilty in exchange for reduced sentences and others are fighting their charges. It will be years before the victims get any justice but at least everything those evil men have done is out in the open. For that I am thankful.
My father waited a long time to make a deal with the FBI regarding the fraud that he’d perpetuated against Tate Media. He is serving a seven-year sentence. His partner in the video hoax and the fraud got ten years. I don’t know if my father’s life is still in danger because I’m currently taking a long hiatus from communicating with my parents. Instead, I’m trying to figure out my own role in this world.
I meet with Henry for lunch at our favorite diner not far away from work. He has been nominated for the Pulitzer Prize as a result of the investigative research that he had done for this case and for the stories that he has published.
“It’s so nice to see you,” he says. “How’s everything?”
I work ten floors up from him and we rarely see each other during the day.
“What are you doing Friday night?” he asks.
I shrug. “No plans.”
“Mom wants to have us over for dinner. She has some news.”
My throat closes up. No, not again. My mind immediately goes to the worst possible place; the cancer is back.
“No,” Henry says, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “This has nothing to do with that. She’s fine. Remember, the doctor said that she won’t have to come in for a checkup for another six months.”
Fatal Marriage Page 14
