by Dan Alatorre
Voices on the phones acknowledged that they could. I glanced around. It seemed like there should be a court reporter taking notes somewhere, but there wasn’t.
Mr. Mills sat back. “Now, we’re all aware that some… unusual things have been happening around the USF campus lately.” He glanced at the faces around the table. “Well, let’s get right to it, shall we?”
He put on his reading glasses. “I have never seen such a mess as this. My staff has assembled quite a pile of paper in the last few hours, and after just a few interviews.” He waved a hand as he picked up a folder from the stack. “We have students stealing things from the school.” He glared at Melissa. “Allegedly.” He picked up the next folder. “We have university Deans selling university property illegally under the table to bigger universities—also allegedly.” Grabbing a few folders, he flipped through them. “We have kids breaking and entering, professors conspiring with power company officials to defraud, wild stories of grand theft, arson, kidnapping—it goes on and on.” He set the folders down, shaking his head.
“Just about everybody at this table has some lawsuit or criminal charges that they’re ready to level at somebody else here.” He took off his glasses, using them to wag at the seated parties. “And most of these allegations have merit. There’s enough fighting here to tie all of you up in court for years. It’s a young lawyer’s dream.”
He sighed. “But it’s a father’s nightmare. And as a resident of this area, it’s embarrassing to see so many prominent members of the community acting like children.”
Mr. Mills leaned back in the big chair. “Which is why I’d like to propose something. The way this is heading, it’s going to end up like one of those ugly divorces you read about in the papers, ruining everybody involved. Instead, I have a suggestion.” He rocked forward and placed his hands on the table. “All of you should just kiss and make up.”
“What!”
“I ought to be suing those assholes!”
“Well, I ought to be kicking your ass.”
The room exploded in outrage. Mr. Mills sat back, folding his hands in his lap, letting them vent.
* * * * *
“Did you have any trouble finding the place?”
Findlay sneered. “I sure did! Jesus, why don’t they have a bigger sign?”
Janice Peterson smiled. “I’ll have to ask. Let’s go inside, shall we?”
As they climbed up the big steps, Findlay fanned himself. “It’s hot. Is this where you have all your meetings?”
“Some.” She walked past the big white columns and reached for the ornate front door.
* * * * *
“This is insane!” Barry pointed at Dean Anderson. “These maniacs torched my apartment.”
“Don’t wag that finger at me.” Anderson pounded the table. “You stole university property. Then you wrecked the Sun Dome!”
The accusations flew across the room in all directions. Mr. Mills smiled at Barry. “I heard about your apartment.” He shook his head. “It does sound insane. Did you really jump off the balcony?”
“Yeah. I cracked my ankle in the process.”
The others continued shouting. Mr. Mills seemed unfazed by it all, possibly enjoying it.
“Excuse me.” Roger’s voice came over the speaker phone. “Before we go any further, should I get a lawyer or something?”
Riff spoke up. “Yeah, what about that?”
Mr. Mills wagged a finger. “Oh, that’s a good question. All of you are free to get a lawyer at any time. This is, shall we say, a simple meeting among friends.”
“Friends!” Barry jumped up, holding the table for balance. “Are you kidding me? Mr. Mills, these guys tried to burn me alive!”
I nodded. “They took me hostage.”
“You were never a hostage.” Bolton bristled. “You were informed that you could leave at any time.”
Mr. Mills waved his hands. “Calm down, calm down.”
I looked at Melissa. She was strangely quiet.
Mr. Mills pointed at the stack of papers. “It’s plain to see that everybody here has a gripe with somebody else here.”
“A gripe?” Barry pointed at Dean Anderson. “I ought to sue these assholes. Mr. Mills, you don’t know what’s been going on.”
“Barry, please.” Mr. Mills eyed Barry over the reading glasses. “I’m well aware of what’s been going on. Between the newspapers and the allegations everyone’s been logging since six A.M. to my staff, I’ve become acutely aware. It’s quite a story.” He picked up a stack of papers. “This pile of reports here is from a small army of paralegals who detailed almost of all of it. Robberies, thefts… But I’ve lived and worked in Tampa for almost thirty years, and I won’t stand by and see our beloved city become a laughingstock over a misunderstanding between people who should be friends. Not over some crazy machine that might not even exist.”
“You keep saying ‘friends.’” Barry pounded the table. “What about what they did? Is arson in that stack of reports? I got a broken ankle because of these morons. And where’s Findlay, anyway? He’s part of this too.” He glared at Dean Anderson. “Are they covering for him?”
“Barry…”
He stood up again. “No, Mr. Mills, it’s not fair.”
“Barry.” Melissa glared at him, then looked at his chair. Barry lowered himself into it.
Mr. Mills rubbed his eyes. “Barry, my billing rate is $750 an hour.” He took off his glasses. “When a man who makes $750 an hour wants to give you a piece of advice, you should listen. You know?”
Barry sighed. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Mr. Mills put his glasses back on. “Now shut the fuck up for a moment.” He looked out over the table. “Let’s all start by thinking of this whole thing as a big family blowup. A squabble.”
Riff’s voice came over the speakerphone. “Can I say something?”
Mr. Mills shook his head, throwing up his hands. “Go ahead, Mr. Fellings. But first, let me get everyone up to speed on your situation.” He grabbed a folder and opened it. “You’re currently staring at theft of state property, conspiracy to defraud, plus you assaulted several members of the hospital staff, lied to a police officer, obstruction of justice…” He set the folder down and eyed the phone. “Riff, if these charges go through, you’re going to be a fat middle aged man when you see your next sunrise. Now, what sort of amazing legal insights would you like to share with us today?”
“Uh, nothing. I’m good. Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Mills.”
“Thank you, Riff.”
“Well, I have something to say.” It was Roger.
“Ah, Mr. Conrad.” Mr. Mills picked up another folder. “Two assaults on a Mr. Findlay, breaking and entering, stealing, conspiracy to defraud the state, theft of state property. Do you really want to make legally binding statements right now?”
“Shit. I guess not.”
Mr. Mills glanced around the table again. “While we’re at it, just so you kids don’t get the impression that it’s a one sided show, the rest of this group is no better off. For example, Dean Anderson is staring at theft, fraud, conspiracy to commit arson, filing a false police report, aiding and abetting…” He smiled over his glasses. “Professor, you might be old enough to spend a year or two of your pension before you die of old age when you get out of prison. Except you’ll be fired and there won’t be a pension. A word of advice for showering in the state pen: don’t drop the soap.”
“Are you all getting the idea?” He looked at each of us. “This is a ‘no win’ situation for each of you. Yes, you can sue and press charges. And while you’re doing that, somebody else here will be suing and pressing charges against you. And like I said, each of the charges has merit.” He picked up a few folders. “Which means everybody will win, or in this case, since you’ll all be bankrupt, humiliated, and in jail, everybody loses.”
Barry slumped in his chair. “It’s not fair.”
Mills beamed. “Finally, something we can all agree on. I
t isn’t fair, is it?” He leaned over to Barry. “Dropping a fifty year sentence against the stealing, cheating Dean in exchange for dropping only a thirty year sentence against the brilliant young paleontology student. Seems there’s a twenty year differential to be dealt with, for fairness.” He leaned back in his chair. “But you’ll still get your thirty years. You’ll miss out on a lot during that time.” Mills laid down the folders. “Life, love, children, a career. Think about it.”
He glanced out at the sullen faces at the table. “Which brings me back to this: first, everybody drops all the charges against everybody else. You’d all end up in jail, just for varying lengths of time.” He glared at Melissa. “That can’t sound good to any of you, I’m sure. That’s why Dean Anderson graciously agreed to drop all charges against you, provided everybody else reciprocate.”
He folded his hands on the table. “As your friend, that’s my recommendation. I personally think it’s time we settled things, and I think we can do it in a judicious manner. But first I need to meet somebody.” He called to the door. “Terry, would you show our guests in?”
The door opened to reveal Findlay standing with Tribute reporter Janice Peterson.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Upon spotting Findlay, Barry jumped up. “You mother fucker!” He limped toward the door.
Mr. Mills turned to Melissa. “Is he always like this?
She shook her head. “Not until recently.”
As Barry neared, Findlay moved behind Janice Peterson. “Hey, cut it out! I’m here for a meeting.”
Barry stormed up and reached over Janice, taking Findlay by the collar. Grabbing Barry’s hand, Findlay peered over at Melissa and me. “Call off your dog!”
“Christopher Findlay.” Mr. Mills’ voice was enough to keep Barry from killing Findlay in front of everyone. “I’ve been waiting to meet you all morning.”
Findlay looked past Barry’s grip on his collar. “What the hell’s going on here? I’m supposed to be having a meeting with this reporter.”
“And you are.” Mills smiled. “It’s just part of a slightly larger meeting.” He gestured to the table. “I think you know everybody. Dean Anderson, the officers.”
Findlay turned a whiter shade of pale than his usual pasty look.
“As I was just explaining to the others, you could probably think of this as a last stop before prison and a bunch of lawsuits.” Mr. Mills picked up another folder. “You’re quite a character, Mr. Findlay, and you’ve had quite a week. These officers were kind enough to fill me in on your activities. Theft, harassment, arson – oh, that’s a biggie, arson. But ironically, not your biggest.”
He stood up, going over to where Barry held Findlay. “Do you know much about wire fraud, son?” He tapped Barry’s hand. Barry released his grip on Findlay’s collar. “I did a case a while back involving a couple of computer hackers who got into other people’s computers.” He leaned in close. “Did you know that when you send information over the internet, it crosses state lines?”
Mr. Mills made a back and forth motion with his hand. “It goes from one computer to a big server somewhere in Seattle or Atlanta, then travels back. Almost at the speed of light. Did you know that?” He turned away, eyeing the others. “Well, of course you did. You’re a computer science guy. Just about everybody knows that.”
Walking over to the side table, Mr. Mills poured a glass of water. “But that internet stuff falls under the Federal Penal Code. They consider it mail and wire fraud.” He took a sip of water and set the glass down. “Now, here’s the interesting part.” He went back to Findlay. “It’s a twenty year sentence for each count. But the neat thing is, every stolen picture, every transferred file – each one of those is a separate count carrying its own twenty year sentence. Why, once a guy has five counts, he can go away for a hundred years.”
Findlay swallowed.
Mr. Mills smiled. “Yeah. How many computers did you hack? How many files did you transfer?” He pointed toward the table. “These officers say it was over a dozen. You strike me as a guy who’s good at math. Can you tell me what twenty times twelve comes to?”
Findlay opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Mr. Mills cocked his head. “I’m sorry, son. I didn’t hear you.”
Findlay cleared his throat. “Two hundred and forty.”
Mr. Mills leaned back. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.” He walked back to the table. “A bunch of little ones and zeroes go across interstate phone lines, and the phone company tracks it all. They keep incredible records. Even if we were to get the charges dropped, you can probably forget about computers for a living. Plus you probably will end up getting all your MIT buddies expelled.”
Findlay just looked at him, mouth agape.
“Nice job.” Mills nodded. “I’m sure they’ll be happy.” He leaned on the back of his chair, cracking his knuckles. “So now that I have your attention, maybe you’d like to sit down and start playing nice with the other kids.”
Findlay managed a smirk. “Oh, I don’t have to do that. You wanna talk tough? I have information that you’ll want to see, mister big time mayoral candidate.”
Mills smiled. “Mr. Findlay, I’ve learned a lot of shitty things about you in the last few hours. Please, don’t live up to my expectations.” He picked up another folder. “Besides, you may want to hear the rest of this.” Mills sat again. “Even my own daughter is facing thirty years.”
Melissa opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself.
Barry shook his head. “This isn’t right.”
Mr. Mills stared at the stack of folders. “Basically, you were all gearing up for some serious jail time. And a boat load of lawsuits. But somebody swooped in like a fairy godmother and suggested a different way to go. Want to know who?” He pointed at the phones. “The power company.”
The fine folks at Florida Electric had been very quiet this whole time.
“You still there, Ashby?” Mr. Mills said to the speaker phone.
“Yes, Michael. We’re here.”
“Well,” Mr. Mills smiled at the room. “My friend Ashby here may or may not have broken the law. So far, it’s not clear what they actually did that was illegal. I think they implied they could do some things that they never actually tried to do, like get an arson investigation called off.” He looked at Dean Anderson and Findlay. “Sorry, fellas. Ashby may have lied to you, but that’s not necessarily illegal.” He scanned the faces at the table. “Can you believe it? The evil corporation may be the only innocent party here.
“Which brings me back to this.” He took off his glasses. “All of you—all of you—should just shake hands and walk away from this whole thing.”
The group exploded in outrage.
Findlay turned red with rage. “You can’t be serious!”
Mills glared at him. “Hey, 240, I’m completely serious. Sit down.”
Findlay sat.
Mills made sure to look each one of us in the eye as he spoke. “Let’s just bottom line it, shall we?”
The room was silent, all eyes on Mr. Mills. He rubbed his chin. “The university drops the charges and agrees not to sue the students. Findlay drops the assault charges and agrees not to sue.” He peered over his glasses at the faces around the table. “Get the idea? Everybody was going to charge and sue everybody, so let’s just have all that cancel itself out. And where we end up is, nobody goes to jail. In exchange, the University has demanded expulsion of the students, immediate return of certain missing property from mine site 32 to USF, who will in turn sell the rights to Florida Electric, to be administered by this firm for a big fat management fee.”
There was silence as it sank in. Barry leaned back in his chair. “Wait a minute. We’re expelled and those guys get to make the money from the machine?”
Mr. Mills nodded. “You stay out of jail, too. Don’t forget that part.”
“So do they.”
“Yeah. It all cancels out.”
B
arry gritted his teeth. “But they still benefit.”
“They do, yes.” Mills nodded. “So do you. You’re all expelled from USF, but not from the entire state university system. You can all transfer—with relatively clean records, mind you—to another state university, with assistance from Dean Anderson, who will resign shortly thereafter for health reasons. He’s also agreed to repay the money he may or may not have received from the other schools.”
Mr. Mills glared at Barry and me. “My personal stipulation is that you all go to different colleges afterward, so we don’t have any of this stuff boil up on us again. You can all restart your academic careers in the fall.”
He cleared his throat. “Melissa, your new alma mater will be Newton State College in Sarasota. Not very prestigious, but it’s nice and close. So I can keep an eye on you.”
“What!”
“That’s right.” He looked at me, then at Barry. “So don’t any of the rest of you bother applying there. Especially you, Barry. Think about becoming a Florida State University Seminole. Tallahassee is far enough away where I won’t run into you, and by the time I’m Governor, if that were to happen, you will be long gone from there, too.”
Melissa sighed, staring at the table. “What about Peeky? He’s here on a student visa. If he gets expelled, he has to go home to India.”
“What, Tomàs Pequant, our foreign exchange student?” Mr. Mills folded his arms. “That’s fairly straightforward, unfortunately. The ship has sailed on him and on Mr. Findlay. Those are federal offenses. Not much I can do.”
Mr. Mills looked at me. “Peeky, I’m sure you can guess how this is going to go for you. You’re expelled. You also violated the provisions of your student visa, so that’ll be revoked.” He stroked his chin, laying down the folder. “Your admittance to the United States is provisional on you staying out of trouble, which you pretty much didn’t.”
