by David Kempf
***
Hello my darlings, it’s Lilith, of course. Hey, Judge Lady Macbeth. Would you like to know what people really think of you? Well, baby, it’s my great pleasure to let you in on the secret or what people say about you behind your back. I highly recommend that you sit down first. I would hate to see you lose what’s left of your mind.
***
The day Daniel was sent to jail, DeVito went back to his office at the law firm of Bartholomew, DeVito and Davenport.
“Well, at least she didn’t send him upstate. This was not the standard deal but knowing what she is capable of, Christ, he got off easy,” said Liam Davenport, attorney at law.
DeVito was playing with his pencil sharpener and patiently waiting for his partner to continue with the conversation. He knew him well and instinctively knew more words were going to be spoken on the subject of the flaky judge.
“She raises this fucked up kid and they let her sentence addicts,” said Davenport.
“Well, Liam, I don’t know about that but she should recuse herself from divorce cases.”
“Yeah, no shit. The crazy bitch has been married twenty three times.”
“And you were one of the lucky husbands,” DeVito said with sarcastic delight.
“Goddamn it, counselor. I was only husband number four.”
“She’s only playing the role of a judge.”
“No, buddy. She’s playing the role of a sane person. Take it from me. I should no.”
The younger lawyer laughed at Davenport. This was amusing.
“How long was this guy in rehab?” Davenport asked.
“Six months,” DeVito answered.
“Jesus, she’s a bitch.”
“Yep.”
“She’s too stupid to know everyone hates her and no one respects her.”
The two lawyers smiled at one another.
“She would like to burn you at the stake for having a much younger and prettier girlfriend than her.”
“Devon is my angel,” Davenport said sincerely. “She’s my soulmate.”
“Guys with five, six, seven DUIs get no jail time in this lenient county. They get straight house arrest,” DeVito said. “Guys who don’t even try to get sober get house arrest. The county needs the money. Guys who don’t have one day in rehab.”
“Straight house arrest with no jail time. You could have gotten him that. You aren’t a younger, beautiful woman. You know how to kiss her arrogant wrinkled ass.”
“Yes.”
“Did you see that fucking commercial?”
“God, the one where she pretends to be miss family values. Yep. She hired a guy to play her husband and a child actor to play her kid. Her real kid is in jail in another county because she fucked him up so bad. She’s a terrible mother. Thank God I never had any children with that monster.”
“You know who stood up for him in court today?” DeVito asked Davenport.
There was a pause.
“Well?”
“Who?” Davenport asked subtly.
“Bob Wilson…”
“The president of Recovering Alcoholics Inc.?”
“The one and the same,” DeVito answered him.
“Wow. And she still sent the poor man to jail?”
“Yes.”
“Five years’ probation as well after the house arrest is over.”
“Good God. She’s sick.”
“Well, she loves supervision,” Davenport said.
“Yes. It appeals to her fascist personality.”
“Well, God loves some but only tolerates others,” DeVito said.
“The law is a scam.” Davenport grimaced.
“No, buddy, it’s an illusion. A myth if you will…”
“I can believe that.” Davenport smiled.
“And you married her.” He giggled.
“Fuck you, buddy.”
“Hey, you should be his divorce lawyer when he gets out. He wants to get divorced.”
“Yep. Daniel would not have to face up to that monster again. It would be a conflict of interest.”
“Christ, yes.” DeVito grinned.
The two took a coffee break for a moment. They sat in silence and each made coffee from the machine. DeVito black but Davenport liked cream and sugar in his.
“Jail or no jail, Daniel is a sick man,” DeVito said.
“How so?” Davenport asked.
“Well, one of the reasons he is getting divorced is that he cheats on his wife so much. Don’t get me wrong. She’s mean to the core. Yeah, she’s another monster like your prize was. Daniel loves to sleep with married women who are pissed off that their husbands don’t touch them anymore.”
“God,” Davenport scoffed.
“And then the nut hired a dominatrix to punish him for his behavior.”
“Mistress Destiny,” Davenport whispered.
“How did you know that?”
“Never mind. Please continue.”
“Well, I think there is a femme dom thing going on. I mean she’s the perfect judge to sentence Dan. Think about it. He is vulnerable and she’s never been vulnerable in her life.”
“Wrong.”
“What?”
“She begged me to come up with our divorce agreement. She was sorry for cheating. The crazy bitch knows she is a whore. Cybil cried her eyes out. I was a bastard and asked her how could she be a judge if she could not even create her own agreement.”
“I see.”
“She could never really be in control even if her life depended on it. When you get right down to it she is nothing but a scared mentally ill child.”
***
Daniel waited for nine hours in a holding cell before the morons who ran the county jail processed him. The humiliation of wearing the jumpsuit awaited him.
The guard who put him the wagon was even dumber than Daniel thought most guards were. He said, “You write them books. Wow, there must be a million dollars in that.” Daniel nodded and refused to dignify the idiot’s question with an answer.
Daniel sat in a corner-waiting cell with four other DUI cases awaiting house arrest. All of them had many more DUIs than he did, of course. One could not count on Her Honor for mercy. Even if this was an incarnation worthy offence, the punishment should be the same for everyone but was not. He heard the guards talk about how there was no room in the jail and that Her Honor was an inconsiderate idiot for this stupid punishment.
Time went by and next thing he knew he was “going to the block.” Block E, the “touchers” and pedophiles and a few unlucky fools who got into their cars after they drank too much.
What did pedophiles have to do with drunk drivers?
Being a father he was disgusted and horrified to be around these perverts. If they ever laid a hand on his son, he would be in here for murder.
What a sick judge.
What a sick world.
One thing Daniel didn’t count on was how quickly the time would go by during the brief time the judge gave him of doing time.
His blood pressure and heartbeat would remain low. The food was so foul he never ate much so his blood sugar level was low.
His subconscious knew what his conscious mind did not. He was afraid and fear makes time go by faster as a defense mechanism.
It’s quite possible that his body kind of shut down out of a sort of emotional trauma. His first glance at a cell with a man in a strait jacket was surreal. This was no haunted hayride attraction. This was the nuthouse for the criminally insane.
Daniel looked all around at the other pitiful souls. “Welcome to hell,” said one intimidating looking young man. Daniel tried not to show fear. If only he had listened to his conscience instead of the voice of his addiction. He walked straight into his cell and met his cellmate Brian Christian.
“Hi, Brian, I’m your cellmate…”
“I’m Dan, just in for a week or so…”
“Sure, Dan, whatever you say.”
“What’s our cell number again?”
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“It’s E 33, the perfect cell number to await crucifixion.”
“I see,” said Dan who appreciated the gallows humor.
“The worst part of being here besides the food is having to share a toilet.”
“I know,” said Daniel, “I had to share one in the holding cell when I was being processed.”
Brian the cellmate laughed.
“This cell is pretty clean.”
“Yeah and I want to keep it that way. Listen, you just got into those clothes, you should take a shower, they get really itchy and that’s the only thing that seems to help.”
Daniel took a walk around the block so to speak and he was relieved to see that every row in the block had its own shower. He suddenly became aware that there would be no rapes in the shower. The terrifying clichés of prison movies were almost immediately proven to be greatly exaggerated. He took his shower in a private shower. The two curtains were between him and fellow inmates. Daniel tried hard not to laugh when he dropped the soap. After all, in a group shower setting that carries an entirely different meaning. To his immediate surprise, he needed relief. He thought about how Judge Lessman had “spanked “him by sending him here. That’s what other inmates with much longer stays had told him. The judge had kind of a sexy dominant bitch personality. Daniel liked that. He thought a lot about what she would like to do to him in private. He looked down at his cock and found that it was erect. He began to stroke it leisurely. Daniel was surprised to find himself masturbating in the shower in county jail…
***
Dear reader, Lilith here again. There is a whole lot more to this story, but boy I love the beginning of it you are reading now. I truly love it when the seeds of human wickedness are planted. The story continues:
“What are you in for Brian?” Daniel asked, right after they were locked down for the night in their cell.
“Well, I too was a blackout drunk like you. I was really drunk, I mean really drunk and took a piss behind the food court at the Oxford Valley Mall. Unfortunately for me this lady saw my penis because that’s the only way to piss. She didn’t take a mug shot of it but she reported me to the police. She felt like Anita Hill I guess. The public drunkenness charge would be a gift, I got far worse…”
“What happened to you?” Daniel asked.
“I was given a sex offender charge and that’s why I’m stuck in here. My lawyer is fighting it. If I’m lucky I won’t be a registered sex offender.”
“My God, Brian…”
“In case you didn’t notice, we aren’t in the general population. You, me, we’re too mild mannered to be in their company. Sadly, we’re here with all of the perverts. My cellmate before you just got twenty-five to life for possessing child pornography.
It was a blessing and a curse to be on Block E. The rape factor was low and so was the chance of getting beaten up within an inch of your life. Daniel had some Christian guilt over jerking off in the shower. So he went to church. They had Pentecostals and other Protestants coming to visit. He was shocked to see how cruel the guards were to folks who went to church. They got immediately searched after every service. Frequent comments included “Have you accepted Jesus?” and “Onward Christian solider!” The guards were very disrespectful and really stupid human beings. They wanted to be sadistic but there were too many laws against that yet. Brian had told Daniel that he said he was suicidal which meant he spent a month in a “turtle suit” locked in his cell under watch. These morons would only drive a depressed person closer to suicide with their medieval actions. They simply lacked all intelligence. There was also a case manager who worked there. Folks would send him questions on green sheets and he was a mindless bureaucrat always covering his own ass. He never directly answered a question.
Daryl Bureau was his name. Now Daniel could understand why the mean spirited guards would play mind games and pretend he was going to be in jail forever but this guy?
Why not answer the fucking question.
Every day he would write the question.
WHEN AM I LEAVING HERE?
Every day until his last one he would get this response-
I DON’T KNOW
During the times when he would meet with the idiot Daryl in his officer, there would be much nonsense afoot.
“I see you have possible house arrest, sir.”
“No, the judge said it would be house arrest after a week,” Daniel said.
“I see.”
“So what are you saying, Daryl?”
“Well, it’s doable to have you here but it’s a fucking pain in the ass. We simply don’t have the room.”
“Blame Judge Lady Macbeth.”
Daryl smiled.
Daniel tried to return the smile but it was just too goddamn depressing here.
“A slap on the wrist, sir.”
“Yes. It doesn’t feel that way now.”
“Most house arrests do not end successfully. The offender soon returns to jail.”
“Not me, I won’t fail,” Daniel said confidently.
A slap on the wrist.
How could a slap on the wrist change the future?
Time went by fast in the county jail for Daniel. He played chess with the kid who said welcome to hell. It turned out the kid just wanted to scare new inmates and he even apologized for being full of shit. Inmates talked about how they let their families down, something Daniel could relate to. He was more worried about his mom and dad worrying then he was about himself in jail. He lost seven pounds because the food was absolutely disgusting. The exception was the “County McMuffin” which they only served on Saturday mornings. Since Daniel was a writer, he frequented the library and read Thomas Harris’s novels about the world’s most famous cannibal psychiatrist. On day six, they called Daniel in for a urine test without informing him that he was going home for house arrest, of course.
“You better piss clean or I’m going to put you in the hole,” said a young guard. Daniel knew he was going home and the kid was trying to scare him. He was drug and alcohol free. So he knew he would pass the urine test. The guard was as dumb as a bag of rocks with brain damage. To prove that point he had asked the young man if he knew who the vice president was the previous week and the guard was clueless.
The people who work in the jail are stupid beyond words, Daniel often thought. Calling them stupid would be an insult to stupid people. They are the guys who wanted to be cops but couldn’t make the cut. And cops have statistically below average intelligence so the guards in the jail must have donuts for brains. Entry-level Law Enforcement Examination and a high school diploma or GED is required to have the power over life and death.
But he thought there was no use dwelling on such things, his vacation behind bars wasn’t going to be for very long.
And so after six days, Daniel was allowed out of jail. He walked out of his cell after the piss test came out negative. He said goodbye to his roommate. “Good luck, Brian.” His roommate and some of the other inmates were very jealous that he was getting out of here with only a day short of six days’ vacation. “By the way,” said Brian, “I love what you’re wearing.” It was an obvious joke on wearing orange jumpsuits. “You, too, Brian, looking good…”
***
Dick Donegal walked into his new lawyer’s office and saw DeVito and Davenport drinking more fucking coffee.
“So you’re the guy who spoke up in court for Daniel and now you have your third DUI,” DeVito said.
“Yes.”
“Interesting,” said Davenport.
“No, it sucks,” Donegal said.
“You know most of the judges are on vacation. You have a damn good chance of getting Judge Lessman,” DeVito said.
“But wait I stood up in court with you guys when Daniel was sentenced. I think I applaud what she did to him.”
“Christ, you won’t applaud her when she throws your ass in jail, you hypocrite,” DeVito said bitterly.
There was a long and awkward pause now.
“No,” Dougal replied.
“Bob Wilson died?” Davenport asked Dougal.
“Yes.”
“My idiot ex-wife was not at the funeral?”
“No.”
“They sat on a panel together so I was surprised,” said Dougal.
“Well, I’m not,” Davenport, said firmly. “Was it an open casket funeral?”
“Yes,” Dougal answered.
Davenport grimaced at him. “You see Cybil would not go to such an event because people would be paying more attention to the guy in the casket then her.”
“Wasn’t she a teacher once?” Dougal asked.
“Yes,” said Davenport. “She taught English and hated it but not as much as her students did. Christ, she flunked half the class and gave the rest C’s.”
“Fucking bitch,” said Dougal.
Davenport paused to roll his eyes at the fool in his office.
“You, my friend don’t know a thing about my former wife. Hypergamy is not near as important to her as her narcissism. She hates smart people especially smart men because she is not that smart. She hates younger, prettier women even more. An anti-Semite and racist but she keeps it from the public. I know because I was married to her. Feels herself aging and getting uglier. Feels very ugly on the inside. Remember who I am. My name is Liam Davenport, one of many ex-husbands now married to younger, prettier, nicer women. She cried and had me finish off the divorce papers because she is emotional and incompetent. She is the most condescending person I have ever met in my life and that is saying something. Cybil is a heartless conservative who is always in favor of fucking over the poor and disenfranchised. Hates affirmative action but knows she was hired just because she is a woman.”
Dougal looked at DeVito for a moment.
The young lawyer looked back at him.
“At the A.A. meeting, I heard you say she is a monster,” said Dougal to DeVito.
“No.”
“No?” Dougal asked.
“That is not what I said at the A.A. meeting. I said something else. This is a very sick woman. She shouldn’t be allowed to be a judge.”
