by Nella Tyler
“I dunno, but they moved me after a long time.”
“Do you know where they moved you to?”
“Yeah,” she says calmly.
“Where did they move you to?” he asks, pausing her with his hand up, adding, “You can take as much time as you need.”
“They shoved me in a van outside of the house where they left me.”
“Did they feed you?”
“Not really,” she says and the jurors’ faces redden with anger at these atrocities.
“How did you use the bathroom?”
She wipes more tears from her eyes with the handkerchief she was given and stifles a crying fit. She tells us, looking down in embarrassment, “They gave me a bucket to use. They watched me pee.”
A horrified sound emanates from the jury box as they all look on in disgust. They believe her and they already know the kind of monsters we’re dealing with.
“No further questions, your honor,” our attorney says.
“Your witness, counselor,” the judge tells the other lawyer.
He rises and steps up to the witness stand to begin his questioning.
“Ms. Fitzgerald, did you think Lester Samson was a bad man when you first met?” he inquires.
“No, but I didn’t know that he was going to take me away from my family for what felt like weeks,” she exclaims.
“Can you just answer the question with a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ please?” he pushes her.
“No.”
“So you didn’t think he was a bad man. Did you willingly go with Mr. Samson when he invited you to his place to hang out?” he asks her.
“Yes.”
She lowers her head once again and I can tell the shame she feels is mounting inside of her.
“You thought he was lonely?” he presses her.
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it true that Mr. Samson told you that his toilet was backed up?”
“No.”
“Are you telling the truth?” he asks smugly.
“Yes, I am telling the truth. Do you think anyone in their right mind would use a bucket for a toilet if they weren’t forced to?” she snipes.
I look to my dad and see a mixture of pride and anger cross his face. He wants to rip someone’s head off and I wonder if he’s reconsidering Alex Maple’s offer to blow up Lester’s house. The jurors all look on in horror at the thought.
“No further questions, your honor,” he tells the judge.
The questioning between each lawyer and the witnesses go on for days. Our side claims truth in their guilt, while they claim that they’re all innocent and merely victims of circumstance.
Days pass and we continue to attend the trial in full force. My father stares a hole right through Boris Cardov as he comes to testify.
We all gear up for another round of blaming the twelve-year-old for her own kidnapping, but it’s Boris’ testimony that does their side no favors.
“Tell us about your involvement in the kidnapping,” our lawyer says, grilling him in hopes he’ll slip up.
“It was all Seth Vinton,” he yelps. Our entire side of the court room looks on in disbelief that Boris would turn on the other men.
Seth Vinton looks at Boris in disgust as our attorney presses on.
“Tell us everything,” our attorney commands him.
“I was a part of the Green Dragons,” he says looking at my father. “I was in a bad way financially, but this man came up to me and offered me a way out. He said that I couldn’t tell any of the club members or they’d kick me out.”
“What was this way out you’re talking about?” he asks Boris.
“He gave me a huge suitcase full of marijuana and said if I sell it all, I could keep forty percent of the profits. I thought, ‘Why not?’ I could use the money, so I didn’t see any harm in it. I was desperate.”
“So, what happened next?”
“The man came back three weeks later to find that I’d sold all of the pot,” Boris recalls.
“Then what?”
“So he takes a bat and threatens to break my kneecaps if I don’t give him all but twenty percent of the money I earned.”
“What happened to the other twenty percent?” our lawyer asks him.
“He said that it was insurance money so that he wouldn’t tell our president that he was dealing drugs,” he tells the court room.
“Who was this man?”
“It was Seth Vinton,” Boris says plainly.
I cover my mouth to avoid blurting something out and sit hunched over, hanging on Boris’ every word.
“Tell us how the kidnapping came to be,” our lawyer instructs him.
“He already had the pot dealing hanging over my head, but he said he’d make it up to me. He said he had this huge thing for me to handle and I could make thirty thousand dollars.”
“What huge thing did he want you to handle?” he asks Boris.
“He told me that me and Ken Clayton were to help Lester Samson kidnap Sasha Fitzgerald.”
“Did you want to kidnap Sasha?”
“No, I didn’t. It was a lot of money and I was afraid that he was going to get me kicked out of the Dragons, but he threatened to kill my mother if I didn’t cooperate.”
“Seth Vinton threatened to murder your mother?” our lawyer asks him in disbelief.
“Yes, he did. I did what he said. He told me it was a win-win for everyone. He wanted everyone in the Dragons distracted and then he could swarm them with his men and take everyone out.”
“Another witness, Rodney Vinton, testified two days ago that you and Ken Clayton got into a fist fight at the clubhouse.”
“Yeah. I was really conflicted about the whole thing and I told Ken that I wanted to come clean and tell Ronan everything. I wanted to take the blame just so his little girl could be returned to him, but Ken punched me. It was a big fight before it was broken up.”
“Did you admit what happened?” he asks Boris.
“No,” he replies looking down in shame.
“Then why are you telling us all of this now?” he asks him.
He looks at their lawyer and says, “I have no money, but my mother is healthy and I couldn’t live with the guilt anymore.”
Their lawyer stands at the words that Boris Cardov is broke and asks the judge if he can approach the bench. A few whispers between the counselors and the judge and the lawyers return to their seats.
“With all due respect,” their lawyer begins. “I would like to ask to be excused as Mr. Cardov’s attorney of record.”
With the pounding of his gavel, the judge says, “You will stand in as counsel for Mr. Cardov for the remainder of the proceedings.”
The attorney has a seat with a look of defeat on his face.
Suddenly, the court room breaks out in whispers and noise among its occupants. After Boris gets his leave from the stand, he’s rushed out of the courtroom. The arresting officers give their testimony and Seth Vinton takes the stand last.
He claims that he wasn’t a part of the kidnapping plot, but bank account records subpoenaed by our lawyer deem him a liar. He deflects from his responsibility in the matter, but the jury doesn’t appear to be taking the bait.
He spins another web of lies, but our lawyer rails him at every opportunity. He never waivers in his statements and he doesn’t claim responsibility. Never the less, the testimony is all damning.
The judge adjourns for an hour for lunch and we all begin talking among ourselves.
My father says, “Good work, Sasha, and the rest of you. These guys are going to fry for what they’ve done to her.”
“Do you think somehow Boris found out about Red draining his bank account?” I ask Rodney.
“Yeah, he probably did,” he tells me.
“Then I guess he felt that he had nothing else to fight for now since he knew his mother was safe from your dad’s revenge?”
“It all makes sense,” he says in response.
We jabber on for the entire
hour as our hearts collectively race for the judge’s decision.
He returns to the bench and a hush falls over the court room.
The judge looks to Lester, Ken and Seth while he shuffles some paperwork. He tells the court, “Lester Samson, you are found guilty of kidnapping, child endangerment, false imprisonment, assault and gross sexual imposition.”
Lester looks full of disgust, but not for his actions. He appears angrier that he was caught.
After shuffling through his papers again, the judge says, “Boris Cardov, who has been taken into custody is hereby convicted of kidnapping, false imprisonment, conspiracy, drug trafficking, and gross sexual imposition.”
“Ken Clayton, you are convicted of kidnapping, gross sexual imposition, false imprisonment, and conspiracy.”
Our side of the court room is nearly cheering at all of the charges brought upon the defendants. The judge looks to Seth and we quiet down.
“Seth Vinton, you are convicted of the following charges: conspiracy, kidnapping, bribery, blackmail, and false imprisonment.”
They all stand and walk away with a police officer escorting them into custody.
“This court is adjourned!” The judge smacks his gavel down loudly and we all disperse from the court room.
A few nights later at a previously scheduled meeting, my father calls the room to order.
“My daughter is the new Chief Investigator of the Green Dragons and I couldn’t be more proud of her. She helped find Sasha and without her help or intuition, we would’ve been running ourselves in circles. Her place will be interviewing and investigating each prospective member of the club,” he tells everyone.
I feel a sense of pride overwhelm me as he continues on with his speech.
“She will be everyone’s first point of contact within our little slice of heaven. If she sniffs something out, the prospect is denied.”
The room breaks out in cheers and my father motions for me to join him at the front of the room.
“Do you have anything you want to add, honey?” he asks me in front of everyone, putting me on the spot.
“Yeah. I just want to say that I will be doing criminal background checks on anyone in the club or hanging around here. No one will be able to get through the front door without coming to see me directly. If they pass, they get through for your consideration in joining the club.”
The room erupts into a celebration once again and people begin passing out beers left and right. Rodney walks over to me and says, “Well, hello there, Ms. Chief Investigator.”
He teases me knowing that I love every minute of it. Everyone is full of fire and I’m the center of attention. I feel that things would be different if this was three months ago. Then, I didn’t know what I was capable of. Now, I have a newly defined confidence in myself and my abilities.
Alex Maple runs up to me anxiously.
“What’s up Alex?” I say flatly.
“Can I blow up Lester’s house now?” he asks persistently.
“No, you absolutely cannot blow up Lester’s house!” I tell him adamantly.
He walks away with a sad look on his face.
“That kid needs Xanax or something!” I joke to Rodney.
“Maybe he just needs a girlfriend,” he jokes back.
“That is entirely possible,” I say in return. “He just seems like he has a lot of pent up energy.”
“Like I said, maybe he needs a girlfriend,” Rodney reiterates.
Epilogue
Rodney Vinton
Three years pass after the court passed its sentence of fifty years each for Lester Samson, my father, Boris Cardov, and Ken Clayton for their parts in the kidnapping of Sasha Fitzgerald.
I rub Trish’s belly and ask her, “How’s my wife doing today?”
She gives me the look of misery and asks, “How do you think I’m doing?”
“I’ll rub your feet,” I suggest.
She’s eight months pregnant with our first child and she looks like she’s ready to pop. Her swollen belly and her crabby disposition make her appeal to me even more.
I still feel that she looks as beautiful today as she did when we first got married two years ago. She’s gorgeous and sweet and she carries our child looking like every bit the goddess, despite how she currently feels.
A call comes through my cell phone and the number looks vaguely familiar.
I answer the call. “Hello?” I ask.
“Hey, it’s Red; long time no talk,” he tells me.
“Red? From the Deathdealers?” I question him.
“Yeah, one and the same.”
“What can I do for you, Red?” I inquire.
“Since we’ve had a three year truce, the voting members all agreed that we want you to have control of the club, no questions asked. It’s only fair since you’re Seth Vinton’s heir.”
“I thought we talked about this a long time ago,” I tell him.
“Yes, but we really want you to reconsider our offer or else we’re going to have to close the doors of the club for good.”
“You make a strong case, friend. I’ll take this to our president and I’ll let ya know what he says,” I tell him.
“Great, I look forward to hearing from you,” Red tells me as we both disconnect the call.
“What was that all about?” Trish asks while I resume rubbing her feet.
“That was Red from the Deathdealers,” I inform her.
“What did he want?” she asks.
“He wanted to offer me control of the club or he says that they’ll have to close their doors for good.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him I’d take it up with your dad,” I say in response.
“Let me know what he says. I can screen everyone if we have anything to do with them,” she tells me matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, but you’re pregnant,” I tell her.
“I may be pregnant, but I can still do my job,” she insists as she snaps at me.
“Trish Vinton, not only are you capable and smart, but I have zero doubt in the world that you can do your job and more. I was just saying that you could take a break and let Jason Maple do the work.”
“No,” she says adamantly, before adding, “No, thank you!”
She grins and I wonder what’s running through her head right this moment. She glows with my offspring inside of her and she puts up with my silliness every day. I dare not ask her if I deserve her, because I fear that one day I won’t.
“Alright, call dad and see what he says,” she commands me.
I dial the number and say, “Hey Ronan, it’s me Rod.”
“Hey Rod, what can I do for you, son?” he asks.
“I got this call out of the blue from Red from the Deathdealers,” I tell him.
“Yeah? What did he want?”
“He wanted to turn the club over to my control, no questions asked.”
I hear a chuckle on the other end of the line. Ronan enjoys every minute of this.
“So, you think you’re ready for leadership?” he asks and I can’t tell if he’s joking.
“No, I don’t want to leave the Dragons,” I plead.
“Accept their offer,” he tells me.
“Wait, what? Is this a joke?” I ask in disbelief.
“No, accept their offer. When they make you their president, come back to the Lair with officers you can trust and petition for us to absorb your club into the Dragons.”
“Excellent idea, think they’ll go for it?” I ask him.
“They have to if they turn over full control of the club to you as president,” he says.
“That makes perfect sense,” I tell him. “I’ll call Red and tell him the decision.”
“Good, let me know what happens.”
We disconnect the call and Trish looks confused.
“What did he say?” She asks me.
“He said to accept their offer,” I tell her plainly.
“He what?!?” she yells.
“Yeah, he said to accept,” I reiterate.
“Why on earth would you accept their offer to lead the Deathdealers? First, that means that we’re going to have to leave Hinton Township and live in Hayleysville. I don’t know about you, but I think that is no place to raise our baby. Secondly, I never thought you would want to leave the Green Dragons, we’re all family there.”
She blathers on and on, but I can’t bear to interrupt her. I wait her out and explain our reasoning.
“Your dad says to take them up on the offer and then head on over to the Lair with several of their officers and ask for our club to be absorbed into the Green Dragons.”
“Yeah, but will they go for that?” she asks.
“He said that they’d have to, because they wanted to make me their president, no questions asked.”
She nods and I dial Red’s number to inform him of the news.
“Red, it’s Rodney. I’ll come see you at the club tomorrow to work out the details,” I tell him.
“So, you’ll accept?” he asks.
“Yeah, sure, why not?” I tell him.
“Alright, see you at the club tomorrow, boss,” he tells me in response.
I disconnect the call with a smile on my face as I continue rubbing Trish’s feet.
The night turns into daylight as it pushes through the blinds in our bedroom. I shower, dress myself and eat breakfast in a hurry.
“I’ll be back soon, my love,” I tell Trish with a kiss on her lips and another for her belly.
“Okay, honey, see you soon,” she tells me as I walk out of the door.
I get on my motorcycle and head out to Hayleysville where the Deathdealers are tucked away. I walk inside and Red greets me.
“Hey, Rod, glad you could make it,” he tells me.
I look around in disbelief, as I can’t believe my father is nowhere to be found. The remaining members are all in attendance and are all looking to me for guidance.
They perform a brief ceremony where they present me with a patch for the front of my jacket that says “President”. Hours pass and I sit there enjoying my new role as leader of a club.
My phone rings and I look down at it to see Ronan Fitzgerald’s name flashing on the screen. I chuckle as I answer it.
“Hey kid, are you messing around out there or what?” he asks.
