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Post by forthteller on Jul 16, 2019 22:13:53 GMT -6
Now for the prequel. Then back to the post apocalyptic sci fie drama, but first we need to know what happened. I actually wrote the next few chapters first and then decided to start the book in the future. Since I have already written the next chapters, you can expect to see about 1 every other day until we have our three instigators stories done.
Not me too
“The perception of an interaction between a man and a woman will differ greatly and todays men are beginning to understand this.” Justin Trudeau, July 3, 2018. Words uttered by the prime minister in light of allegations against him for groping a female reporter in 2000. This coming from a man who is an avowed feminist and who defends women and equality legislation at every turn.
On the same day, Ryan Reynolds is embroiled in another allegation dating back to 1995. One has to wonder when it will stop.
Every man I know, myself included can look back on their lives and remember a time when they too uttered some sexist remarks, were a little too forward, continued to pursue when we were told no or touched something we didn’t own without explicit consent. Many of us were involved in relationships that ended badly and when we look back on them, we did some things that in todays climate could be considered offensive if not outright criminal. We secretly live in fear for the time when a woman from our past steps forward and utters these words, “ME TOO”.
Throughout history, there are groups with so much hatred that they are willing to kill one another because of it. For hundreds of years, thousands even, the hatred is still so intense that even though there may be peacemakers in their midst, there are sufficient extremists within all sides to perpetuate the hatred, violence and death indefinitely. That hatred had a beginning and like all hate, it bubbles and grows. The following chapters are purely fiction. The book is a hypothetical scenario to the extreme about what could happen if the two genders cannot find a way to allow each other the right to be who they are while still being able to co-exist. It is called hyperbole.
My feeling is that after centuries of excessive misogynistic conduct, men have reached a point where the punishment for past wrongs and the wrongs of our forefathers overshadows our currant reality. The response from men has been not so much to change, but to withdraw and control emotions. While many men voice assent and even have the ability to control their actions, we are still and always will be testosterone filled creatures. Bottling up that toxic hormone cannot be a solution as the volcanic eruption that will take place when it can no longer be controlled could be catastrophic. This book is the consequences of that volcanic eruption.
Chapter 12
Alienation of Peter
December 2020, North Vancouver
Walter Johnson walks out of the courtroom having plead not guilty to a charge of marital rape. He was heading home to his single room occupancy unit above the well-known store he once owned and now works for. After the allegations were made, his franchise owner cancelled his franchise using a clause in the contract that mandates morality and character. With no access to inventory or advertising, the elite men’s wear store had quickly gone under. He had sold the building and all of the money was quickly taken into the family estate to be held in trust until the legal matters were taken care of. He was lucky the new owner was willing to rent the old storage room to him at a reasonable rate.
After 15 years of marriage, his wife had filed for divorce and because there was a pre-nuptial agreement and most of the pre-marriage assets were his, things got ugly in a hurry. In desperation his wife made allegations that he had more than once forced himself on her during their marriage. While the allegations were intended to get the courts to look more favorably toward her in the separation of the family assets, the judge felt the actions were criminal and ordered a criminal investigation.
Despite his ex wife attempting to rescind her allegations, the prosecution pressed on, after all, Walter was a classic example of toxic masculinity. He drove a truck, he owned firearms, played football and wore a beard. Against his wife’s protestations, the prosecution laid charges and the media went viral.
All his friends distanced themselves from him. His business and car were vandalized, rapist became his title. More than once he was roughed up by other men who thought he had victimized his wife so badly that she was now trying to protect him. Women ostracised him and his own family were not speaking to him.
Walter wearily climbs the back stairs to his room, pauses to rip a flyer with a picture of him and the caption, beware of the local rapist on it, off the door. Crumpling it and tossing it over the rail he inserts his key in the door and opens it. He looks around at the 10 by 12 room and tosses his file on the bed. He does not qualify for legal aid because of his net assets but he cannot get a lawyer because his money is in trust and he cannot pay them until the divorce is finalized. It is almost a certainty that he will be convicted.
He takes a picture off the wall and begins crying as he looks at it. Peter has been his little brother for 8 years and now, at almost 14 years old, he is no longer permitted to see him. Peter’s mother had applied for and received a court order banning any contact and he could not afford the legal costs to dispute it. He would never go camping or cycling or go to the skateboard park again with Peter, he no longer had anything to live for.
Walter kisses the photo and tells the picture he is sorry. He gently lays the framed photograph face down on the bed and pulls a chair from his little desk. The rope he had picked up at the hardware store was still coiled up so he cuts the zip tie and uncoils it. Flipping the rope over the rafter he had exposed yesterday he grabs the loose end and wraps it around the door handle. Sadly, he steps up on the chair. Fastening a crude noose, he puts it over his head. Once secured, he sighs once again, brushes a tear from his eye and kicks the chair away.
The next morning in the courtroom, the judge is angry at his tardiness. He orders the sheriff to the defendants’ home to pick him up. The judge has decided to revoke bail. The Sheriff heads out of the courtroom and reluctantly does as he is ordered. He has watched the proceedings and knows this whole case is a sham to appease the local media and feminist groups but it is out of his hands.,
The Sherriff knocks on Walters door but gets no answer. He try’s the knob and it is unlocked. He opens the door, a loud crash sounds. He quickly draws his service weapon but it is not necessary. Walter is dead and already bloating.
4 days later
“I hate you, I hate you! You took my dad away from me and now he is dead.” Screams a distraught and very angry young Peter.
“Peter, you have to understand, I was protecting you. He was teaching you how to be a toxic male and you need to grow up to be a man but still able to be sensitive and caring. He was also a rapist and a very dangerous man. And he was not your father, he wasn’t even related to you.”
“He was so my dad, not that asshole you married and kicked out when I was little.”
Controlling her voice and using a soothing tone, Vicky looks lovingly at her son. “Don’t be like this Peter, I have taught you that you have the right to your opinion but you cannot use foul language and you have to use a respectful voice.”
Peter takes a breath and calmly says, “here is my inside voice, I am going to his funeral tomorrow and I am going to bring the stuff he left me home. I will put his picture on my wall and I will remember him as my father.”
Starting to get annoyed, Vicky intentionally raises her voice slightly to what she believes to be her authoritative voice. “You will do no such thing, this is my house and it will have what I permit in it. You are my son and you will not skip school to attend that farce of a funeral.”
“Whose house? I recall standing in court when your husband agreed to pay for it. I recall the judge ordering him to pay you spousal support and child support. I don’t recall you ever going to work or actually earning anything.”
Unintentionally raising her voice now, Vicky retorts, “I will have you know young man, I do work, I just don’t get paid for it and I earned this house by supporting your father all those years as he built his business. You will not go to that funeral, that is my final word.”
“Try and stop me.”
After second block, straight A student, Peter Mclean pops into his next class which is a double block of honors 10 math. “Mr. Gordon, I wonder if you could give me todays assignment and work because I need to attend a funeral?”
“I am sorry Peter; your mother already called and told the school your absence is not approved. If you miss class, I am afraid I will have to mark your absence as unexcused.”
“That is okay, can I still get my work, I am going to go?”
“I understand but, on the record, I have to refuse.” Mr. Gordon says as he hands Peter his worksheet and assignment. “Due on Friday.”
Peter heads to his locker and collects his Jacket and backpack. He goes over tomorrows schedule and selects the books he needs for study tonight. Heading out to his bike racks, he decides to head out the side exit in case someone sees him exiting that may try to stop him. At the large tree near the road a lone bike is chained. Instead of parking it at the rack, peter had parked it near the rear of the school so he could leave without being observed by the office. He was willing to suffer the unexcused absence as the lone blemish on his otherwise perfect school attendance record.
Peter pedals his bike the 6 miles to the funeral home and parks it to the north side of the building. He goes around to the front and walks in. Only Walters sister Jacoline and his father are in attendance. Nobody else wants to be seen attending the funeral of an accused rapist. Even his ex wife is not there, “sad,” thinks Peter. “Guilty without due process, I am going to change this.”
A reporter rushes over to Peter and thrusts her microphone into peters face. “How does it feel to attend the funeral of a rapist who killed himself in shame.”
“he wasn’t guilty. It was all a lie.” Shouts Peter.
The funeral director intercepts her and ushers her out the door, “only family and friends are permitted and I would expect you to honor the family’s privacy.”
The reporter heads out the door to her car and waits until the funeral is over. She takes photos of all the attendees as they leave and submits her story that evening with Peters picture leaving the building. The headline read, “Rapists funeral sparsely attended.”
Friday afternoon. School is out and Peter packs his bags and heads out the front doors where busses pick up the riders. He doesn’t react to the snickers and leering looks as he is busy planning his training session this evening at the skate board park. He has a new trick that he knows is going to make him tough to beat in the next competition. As he gets to the bike rack, he notices that his bike has been pulled from it and damaged beyond repair on the grass. There is no way the office and others did not see it happen either. Only the front wheel, still locked to the rack is undamaged. This was a very expensive bike that Peter had received as a gift from Walter for his 12th birthday and it was his primary means of transportation.
He leaves the bike there and begins his long walk home. He is not going to give his detractors any satisfaction by riding the bus or going into the office to complain.
Two blocks west, peter heads down Marchant street. As he approaches the corner of 106th, a female about 15, steps into his path. Peter makes an attempt to step around her and she sidesteps into his pathway again. Peter stops. “Can I get by please?”
“Why, on your way to rape someone?”
“I don’t rape anyone, I am going home. Can I get by please?”
“Make me move.”
Peter turns and begins walking the other direction. Two other teen girls had already come up behind him and blocked his path in the opposite direction.
“Where you going rape lover?”
“He didn’t rape anyone and now he’s dead, you happy?”
“Did he teach you his ways, skate boy? We want to know. We want to make sure you don’t become like him.”
One of the girls were videotaping the whole confrontation, peter was busy thinking, “I cannot do anything they can use to make me look guilty, I cannot even defend myself.” He is carful not to touch any of the girls. He puts both his hands into the straps of his backpack and turns to cross the street. One of the girls sticks her foot out and attempts to trip him as he steps out over the curb. He deftly hops over it and trots across the road, the girls taunting him as he goes.”
An hour later, peter walks up the sidewalk to his house. Paint is splashed across the lawn, sidewalk and rape lover painted across the front of the house. He kicks a paint can aside and climbs the steps to the front stoop. He opens the front door and can hear his mother, sobbing in the distance. Stepping in and closing the door he says, “mom, Its me.”
Sobbing, she sniffles and says, “in here.”
Peter drops his pack on the couch and goes into the kitchen. His mother is sitting at the kitchen table with a half empty bottle of Glenfiddich and a half empty tumbler in her hand. “Are you okay mom? You said you were going to quit drinking.”
“Did you not see the house? Of course, I am not okay. I told you not to go to that funeral but you know better. You went anyways and now look what happens.” His mother tosses yesterdays newspaper on the table.
“Mom, don’t you see what is happening. The media doesn’t report news, they create it.”
“Create it, I told you not to go and you went anyways, that is news.” She screams.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, I went to a friend’s funeral.”
“A rapist’s funeral.” She retorts.
“No, a friend. He wasn’t a rapist. His wife made allegations in divorce court and when it went further, she tried to rescind it. That part was conveniently not reported on.”
“Go to your room, you are grounded.”
On Saturday morning Peter gets up and sneaks out of the house before his mother wakes. He goes to a nearby pawn shop and purchases a fairly good hybrid bike using his own debit card. A debit card for a bank account his mother does not even remember he has. They had opened the account in better days and he had put his birthday gifts and some money his biological father had given him in it. He has used the account ever since.
Slipping back into the house before his mother wakes up, he quietly heads back to his bedroom. He turns on his desktop computer and logs on. Locating his English essay, he continues on with it. “I am going to get an A on this,” he says to himself.
Around noon, Peter hears some clanking and noise in the kitchen. “Mom must be up.” He looks up from his computer and looks out on the street. Protesters are walking across the front lawn with signs condemning Walter and peter as rapists. Peter walks out the front door to confront the protesters. Pushing and shoving entails, Peter stands his ground. “This is private property; you all have to get off our lawn.”
Onlooking neighbors do nothing to intervene. One of the girls pushes peter from behind, he stumbles and falls forward. Putting his hand out to steady himself he comes into contact with a girl in front of him. Screaming, “he grabbed me, the little rapist grabbed me.”
A boy beside him pushes him sideways and trips him, Peter goes down awkwardly to the side and a sickening crunch sounds. Kids and adults kick and stomp him. The girl telling everyone who will listen that he grabbed her breast. A dozen phones record the event, some live. The police arrive and start separating everyone. A female officer kneels to talk to Peter. Look what you have done here, you accosted a peaceful protest and now you are hurt and we have to get involved. The male officer is busy taking statements.
Peters mother comes out of the house, bleary eyed and hung over. “What is the problem here, this is my property and these people are all trespassing. My son is hurt and all you can do is accuse him. Have you even called an ambulance,” she says as she looks at his misshapen lower leg?
“I think my partner has. Hank, have you called for an ambulance yet?”
“No, I thought you did. I will call in now. Dispatch, this is Constable Milner. We need an ambulance at 1060 Robiard St... Minor, possible fractured leg.”
“Ambulance dispatched, code 2.”
“Message received.”
Another police car arrives, 2 male officers exit it.
Constable Milner addresses the crowd. “if you have video evidence please bring it over to these gentlemen so they can look at it and copy it if it would be of help.”
Nobody responds. The officer who just exited the car knows there will be multiple phone video captures of the entire event but he does not have a warrant to force anyone to turn them over. He reissues the request and then says that he doesn’t want to find any edited copies on the internet tonight.
20 minutes later an ambulance arrives and peter is given first aid, packaged and transported to hospital. Diagnose, fractured tibula and fibula of the lower third of his left leg. He will be needing an operation to set it and a couple days recovery in the hospital.
Day 2. In the hospital.
Peters mom has just left and he is drinking his juice and stressing about his broken leg. Gonna be six months before he is back on his board. Plus, his big brother was dead, they wrecked his bike and his mom blames him for all the problems.
As peter ponders this, A police detective enters the room with his mom and walks over to the bed. It is the constable who arrived at the demonstration at the house. “Hello Peter, I am Constable Chen. Can I ask you a few questions?”
“Sure, am I in trouble?”
Chuckling, Sergeant Chen says, “oh no. On the contrary, I am hoping you can help me, because others have done something wrong. Could you tell me, have you seen any of the people at the protest before?”
“Two of the girls I saw stopped me on the way home the other day, they had a third girl with them and they tried to provoke me into a fight or something. One of them was recording with her phone. I got away without touching any of them.”
“Do you recognize the girls from school?”
“Yes. They all go to my school. Grade 11 or 12 I think.”
“Do you know why they are doing this to you?”
“I went to the funeral of Walter Johnson. They accused me of being a rape lover and a rapist. Plus, somebody destroyed my bike at the school and they must have seen it from the office but did nothing.”
“You said they called you a rape lover and rapist. Why would they say that about you?”
“Because my big brother was Walter Johnson. He was accused of raping his wife and even after she tried to take it back, the local courts still tried to accuse him of it. He lost everything and killed himself.”
“You don’t have the same name? How would they even know you know him?”
“Because I went to his funeral. A reporter was there, she was asking questions, went inside the funeral home but was kicked out. She took pictures and wrote an article.”
“Which paper?”
Peters mother answers, “It was in the north shore news. They had a picture of my son on the front page.”
“And all the harassment started after the news article?”
Once again Peters mother answers, “It did. My house was vandalized, my car damaged and they have been protesting on my front lawn, on and off since then.”
“Do you have a copy of the news report.”
“At home, I can get it for you and drop it off at the station.”
“That is fine Ms. McLean. I need to come by your house to see the damage that was done so I can make a full report to the prosecutors office.”
“What will they do?”
“I will complete my report and file it. It is up to them to decide how to proceed after that. The paper took a photograph of a minor and published it without parental consent. I have not read the article so I do not know if it was factual or fabricated. The girls your son can identify but they are likely minors. It would be hard to prove the office staff saw your bike being damaged.” Looking at Peter, “the kids that pushed you down all say you attacked them first.”
Peters mom says, “I have video surveillance. I have already looked at the video, they attacked him. I also saved the video of the group panting my house and car.”
2 weeks later. Constable Milner is at the front door of Peters house. “The paper has published an apology and retracted all the untrue statements it published. The girls involved are being placed in the diversion program and we have been unable to identify the young man who pushed you down. We are also looking for the vandals of your house. We have not identified them yet but we expect to find them.”
Peter blurts out, “ask the girls, they know who they are and in one of the videos, they are doing it too.”
“Peter, we cannot force them to tell us who the other parties are and their lawyers have advised them to not talk to us.”
“Then why are they getting diversion? If they won’t cooperate, I want them charged.”
“I am afraid that is not your choice or even mine for that matter.”
“So, you are telling me that nothing is going to happen to those girls after everything they did to me.”
“My hands are tied but you did not hear this from me, there are plenty of litigation lawyers who would be more than happy to take your case.”
July 7, 2021
During the pre trial negotiations, the lawyers for; the North Shore News; the families of Megan and Lisa cummings, Sharon Weitz and Daniel Stoneman; the West Vancouver school board; and of course, Ms. Vicky Mclean and peter Maclean are all sitting at a large boardroom table with the judge and a bailiff. Most of the parents, the reporter, a school board trustee and Ms. Mclean are present, none of the youth are.
The senior lawyer for the defense starts the discussion, “we don’t believe that if this goes to court you will win Ms. Mclean but we are all agreed that the negative publicity and the cost of a lengthy trial would not serve anyone. We are not professing guilt or accepting blame but we are offering to make a one-time settlement to end these proceedings provided Ms. Mclean guarantees the names and details of this case do not go public. I have forms to fill out to this effect and a check that I am authorized to give you provided you agree to our terms.”
Taking the proffered check and the forms, the lawyers for Ms. Mclean looks at it and hands it to his client. “We would like to discuss this in private, when do you need an answer?”
“Court is scheduled for next Monday if we cannot reach an agreement by then.”
Looking at Ms. Mclean and reading her answer, “my client has suffered a nervous breakdown as a result of the harassment meted out by your clients and the irresponsibility of the school and newspaper. We have adequate evidence to prove damages and who the perpetrators were. A lengthy trial will surly rule in our favor, this is not nearly enough. Especially if you wish to muzzle my client.”
“How much would be enough?”
The lawyer leans over and has a hushed conversation with Ms. Mclean. “ten times that much and you needn’t worry about your reputation because my client intends on moving out of this community at the conclusion of this legal challenge.”
“We would have to get back to you on that. I will consult with all my clients and the insurance firms to see what they will approve. Can I have that check back please.”
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Post by forthteller on Jul 17, 2019 14:17:10 GMT -6
Chapter 13
Distance widens
August 15, 2021
“Wow, this house is huge. We don’t need this much space,” exclaims a shocked Peter.
“It is right near a great school, a grocery store and look at the view.”
“Mom, the sold sign says the price was reduced to 2.6 million but that is way more than you sold the other house for.”
Lifting her second glass of wine to her lips, Vicky looks at her now 14-year-old son. “Oh my God, we forgot your birthday, I was going to get you something. Grabbing her car keys, better late than never.”
“Mom, my birthday was 2 weeks ago, it’s okay, I don’t care.”
“No honey, I need to make this right.”
With a determined look on his face, “no mom, its okay, you forgot, its done. Besides, you have been drinking and the movers will be here any moment.”
“Fine, when the movers are done, we will go celebrate.”
“That would be nice,” Peter says as he watches where she put her car keys so he can hide them and prevent her from driving while intoxicated.
Week two of school at peters new school in West Vancouver. He gets to the bicycle rack and is pulling his bike from it as two teenaged girls and a teen boy walk up to him. The oldest girl gets in his face and hands him the cover of last Decembers North Shore News. “Is this you Peter?”
“Yes, it was me but my mom sued and they retracted everything they printed.”
“Must have gotten a pretty big payday as well, moving from a crappy house in North van to the Wilson place in West Van. You got a bunch of money, matter of fact you got a real big bunch of money.” Looking serious, Marisa looks away, “you aren’t wanted here; you don’t belong here. Pretty small too. How old are you?”
“14.”
The older boy pipes up, “he is the brainy kid in my math 11 class, he must be lying.”
“No, I just turned 14. I am only in grade 9.”
The older boy seems confused. “Why are you in my class then?”
“I was good at math and science so they let me in the higher classes in my old school.”
The first girl breaks back in. “So, the rapists’ friend is also a brainiac. Anything else you want to tell us?”
“Why do you even want to know?”
Slouching and with an are you serious look, the first girl says, “you're new here and you don’t hang with anyone, I hear you are pretty good with a board and you have money. Might be a chance we let you hang with us.”
Perplexed and starting to get curious, “I don’t even know you, why would we hang.”
“You will find that this is not a very good place for loners. You hang with our crew or you won’t be using the park, that is ours.”
“The skate park is public. Everyone gets to use it.”
“You have not been here long enough. This is your only warning. The park belongs to us. You hang, you ride, simple.”
“You don’t even know me so what do you actually want if I hang with you guys.”
“Nothing. At least not yet. See what you got, then we let you know what it costs.” The girl, Marisa Babcock, backs away. The three turn and nonchalantly walk away.
Peter hops on his bike and peddles away. As he rides home, he wonders what kind of people say they own the skate board park and what would they do if he ignored the warning and used it anyway. He had seen a few kids there but now that he thought about it, there were not as many kids using it as he would have expected. He finishes the short hilly ride and walks his bike up the steep switchback driveway. Beautiful day and no rain in sight, he snaps open the kick stand and parks the bike beside the garage. Into the side door of the house he goes and just about bumps into his mother who is already half drunk.
“Bout time you got home, just got off the phone with the principle. Seems you are getting chummy with the local gang.”
“Don’t worry mom, I am not chummy with them, they were warning me to stay out of the skateboard park, they say it is theirs.”
“Belongs to taxpayers, they can’t stop you from using it.”
“Mom, if I use it, they might beat me up. I am the smallest kid in most of my classes. I just want to stay out of trouble.”
“I am going to call the principle and report this, they cannot threaten you like this, you have your rights.”
“Mom, please don’t. I will take care of it.”
“No, I am going to call. It is wrong that you are being treated like this.”
“Please mom, it will only make it worse.”
Vicky drops the discussion as the oven beeps so she stumbles into the kitchen. Pulling a cooked frozen pizza out of the oven with two oven mitts, she drops it on the counter. As Peter cuts the pizza, he is thinking to himself, “this is the fourth frozen pizza in a row. I got to ask for something else.” With his most reasonable voice, “mom, can we have something other than pizza tomorrow?”
“My cooking isn’t good enough for you, lots of other stuff in the fridge and freezer, make it yourself, I am going to get another drink.”
That was the last time peter ever ate a meal he didn’t cook for himself. Peter walks into the living room and asks his seated mother. “How much did we win in the lawsuit?”
“We didn’t win, I settled and for a lot less than I deserved. Those lawyers were only in it for a quick buck, they didn’t want to go to court so they made me settle.”
“How much did we settle for?”
“That is none of your business. I pay the bill here and you don’t pay anything.”
As she gets up and walks away, “fine. It was me who was victimized, but you get the compensation, seems fair to me.”
“What did you say young man,” Vickey says as she struggles to turn and drunkenly lunges for peter.”
Peter steps back. She falls to the floor. Peter turns and walks to his room. Locking his door, he hears her drag herself to her feet and walk back to her reclining chair, complaining about her ungrateful son the whole time. He hopes she will not remember to call the principle, that would be bad.
2 weeks later.
In the boy’s washroom. “Haven’t seen you at the park since we talked. Marisa doesn’t like being told no. I guess I gotta teach you a little lesson,” he says as he grabs Peters shirt by a bunch at the collar and slams him against the wall. Peter, feet dangling, cannot do anything and he know if he screams, things will only go from bad to worse.
Peter stoically looks straight ahead, says nothing. The bully rears back and slams his fist into peters stomach just as another kid walks in. The kids sums up the action, looks at Jeremy who stares him down and quickly leaves the bathroom.
Jeremy throws peter to the ground, “next time it’s the face, you need to make better decisions.” He stalks out of the bathroom.
Laying on the ground, Peter wonders why they want him to join their group. He is little, doesn’t make waves and doesn’t have money. Makes no sense.
Later that day, Peter is working on a science lab with another boy. Jason is 16 and in grade 11. “Heard you got tuned up by Jeremy today. How are you feeling?”
“A little sore. What is his deal.”
“You turned down an opportunity to join Marisa’s crew. Nobody does that and she hardly ever lets someone new in unless they earn their way in.”
“Earn their way in?”
“Jeremy punched out Marisa’s ex boyfriend for her and now he is in. Some of them provide drugs and smokes. Blake has his father’s car and chauffeur. She probably wants you to do her homework for her.”
“She never asked.”
“Probably was just expecting you to do it for her. If she doesn’t pass this semester, I hear her dad is going to put her in a private school and make her take tutoring after school.”
“Why would I help her? She sent her goon to rough me up.”
“That was only a sample Jeremy gave you this afternoon. Next time, you will end up in the hospital.”
“Why me? I keep to myself.”
“Simple, you are a loner and they let you in. Now you owe in whatever you can pay. Since your drunken mom probably isn’t going to give you money, doing her homework is probably going to be what she wants.”
“How do you know my mom is a drinker?”
“Are you kidding, this is a small town, everybody knows. She goes grocery shopping drunk, shows up at school events drunk and Ella’s dad has taken her home twice in his police cruiser.”
“So, what would you do. I hear Marisa’s crew deals and that the police are always trying to catch them. I am only 14 so is it possible they want me to deal for them because I am a minor?”
“Possible, new kid, no rep. You would be under the radar of the cops for a few months at least.”
“Dam, I’m not getting involved with drugs. My mom is an alcoholic and my dad is a junkie. Not like I have a chance if I get involved. Thanks. Nobody has ever told me any of this.”
“That is because nobody wants to get their ass kicked.”
“Why aren’t you afraid then.”
“Because I hang with Marisa’s crew.”
“This is another recruiting attempt?”
With a shrug, Eric replies, “No, just some friendly advice. Marisa is looking weak because a 14-year-old turned her down. She isn’t going to let that go.”
The boys finish up their lab and Peter helps Eric with his write up. As they do this peter says, “if I do her homework, she will still get lousy marks in her exams and she will still fail. English assigns 40 percent of your mark on in class essays. I cannot help her there.”
“I suggest you figure it out. You have another year and a half with her in this school. If she gets transferred, the same crew will still be here and they make it tough on you.”
“There are other smart kids here. Why doesn’t she get one of them to join?”
“You would have to ask Marisa.”
Next day, in socials 10 the teacher asks the students to team up in groups of 2 or three to do some research on the war of 1812. Peter quickly heads over and offers to team with Marisa. She has already been discussing partnering with Shelly but since they are both near failing, they decide to include Peter. Mr. Caleigh knows that Peter will do all the work and the girls will claim equal marks but he is pleased because they will at least hand in something he doesn’t have to mark inaccurately so they get a bare pass.
Later that week, in the old guest house at Peters house; Peter, Marisa and Shelly are looking at 2 different books with differing accounts of the war of 1812. Marisa says, “this is stupid. You write up the report, we sign it and hand it in.”
Peter patiently hears her out, “I already know all this stuff, but Mr. Caleigh is probably going to question us in class about it and he won’t ask me. Also, the top 3 will present their findings in class. I was thinking that if we debate the two accounts of the war, that would definitely get us top marks.”
“I don’t want to do all this work; I only want to pass. Lets just hand in whatever you write up.”
Peter stands and hands Marisa some notes. “I hacked your My Education account. You are going to fail in almost all your classes including socials unless you ace all your finals and get all of your incomplete assignments in before the end of the semester. I don’t know what your parents will do but my mom would take away every privilege I have and probably send me away to a boarding school if that was my marks.”
“Bullshit. Your moms a drunk. She wouldn’t even notice if you skipped all your classes. Does she even know where you are? I doubt she even knows you use this place. We can all hang here.” Marisa tosses the notes back at Peter. “If you hacked my account, just change my marks then.”
“I can’t change your mark there; I would have to hack the administrator or the teacher’s portal but you are on his radar so he would know the marks were changed. If they found out, we would both be expelled. I can help you get a pass but it would have to be with actually doing the work. It is not as hard as you think.”
Looking at Shelly, “what do you think, do I have a chance?”
Scrunching her face and thinking for a moment, shelly says, “my dad says he is going to give me his tesla when I get my N if I get a good enough report card. If you don’t get him to help you, I am going to anyways.”
Marisa slumps into the back of the chair she is sitting on. “Fine, Fine.” Looking at Peter, “if I don’t get a good mark, you are going to be sorry.”
Peter says, “you will, if you actually try.”
In social studies class 2 weeks later, peter is sitting with Marisa and Shelly. Mr. Caleigh is handing the assignments back and drops one on the desk in front of Peter. No mark on it. He looks directly at Marisa, “who was the commanding general for the Canadians in the war of 1812?”
“Sir Isaac Brock.”
He turns to Shelly, “across which river did the US army flee?”
“The Potomac.”
Looking at Peter. “would your group be willing to present your report for the class?”
“We would. If we do, Marisa will report on what they are taught in the US about the war and Shelly will report on the war from the Canadian perspective.”
“Novel idea. I expected something of this caliber from you Peter but I am pleased that you were able to include Shelly and Marisa. If you can pull this off, it will surely get you all an A+.”
“We will, Mister Caleigh.”
Two days later; Peter, Marisa and Shelly are preparing for their social’s presentation in the guest house. As it is evening, the light in the guest house can be seen from the main house and Peters mother notices them on. “Peter, get down here, someone is in the guest house.” Pause, with a louder voice, “Peter, get down here right now.”
Stomping up the stairs she pounds on Peters door, “Peter, open the door.” No answer.
Vicky open his door; peter is not there. “Where is that boy?” She says to no one. “I guess I have to go check on the guest house myself,” She says as she takes a drink from the glass she is holding. “I need to get a gun.”
Out the house she walks, leaving the front door open. Across the driveway and down the drive. She gets to the guest house and cannot see in because the drapes are drawn. “Its my house, I don’t need to knock.”
Vicky opens the door and steps in to see a surprised Peter. Marisa is sitting across the table from him and doesn’t seem to care. Shelly was in the bathroom and heard the voices before she came out.
“What is going on here?” Shouts Vicky.
“We are working on a social studies project. We present it tomorrow.” Says a startled Peter.
Looking at Marisa and the prominent tattoos across her neck, shoulder and arms. Drunkenly she says, “With this tramp, I bet that’s not all. Get out of my house.”
Shelly comes out of the bathroom, “Mrs. Mclean, we are doing a social studies project. Nothing else, I promise.”
“Another one. Get out of my house and you Peter, get to your room, I will deal with you later.”
“Mom, they are working with me on our project. Really. We didn’t want to bother you in the house. Please. You are embarrassing me.”
Screaming now, “embarrassing you, how long have you been using my house without my permission.”
“I live here too and you bought it with my money.”
“Your money, that was my money.”
“No, some was, but most was mine. I was there in the lawyer’s office when you signed the papers. I heard what he told you. It is supposed to be in trust for me, not spent by you.”
“I am your guardian, I spent what I needed to assure you a good education in a good area and a secure home. And now here you are, with two sluts, claiming you are only doing homework.”
“Mom, you are drunk. You don’t know what you are saying.”
Looking at the girls, “I am calling the cops. You are both trespassing. And you, young man. You are grounded. Get to your room.”
Peter collects all the books and notes. “See you two tomorrow, just go now, I won’t say who you are.”
The Girls leave and Peter turns to his mother, “happy now. Do you have to ruin everything?” Peter marches out, books in hand. He doesn’t go to the main house; he goes to a small outbuilding on the eastern corner of the property.
Vicky goes to the main house, seething. “Ungrateful little bastard. I will show him.” Thinking he went to his room; she goes into the study for a drink. After a couple more, Vicky staggers to bed. She drops on it and fully dressed, falls asleep.
Peter wakes at dawn in the outbuilding he slept in. Luckily there were several packing blankets in there with all the boxes and other stuff that had been brought from the old house but never unpacked. There was also an old sofa and a few other furniture pieces Vicky felt did not match the new décor. It is now 7:13 so Peter heads out to the local submarine shop for a breakfast sandwich before heading in to school.
At his locker, peter pulls the books he needs for first class. As he is about to close the door, Eric grabs it and opens it wider. Stepping up close, he says, “Marisa wants to see you at the smoking pit.”
“Math starts in 5 minutes; I can see her during period change.”
Eric slams the door shut and Peter pulls his arm back just in time.
“you will see her right now.”
“Fine. Now I am going to get another tardy.” Peter locks his locker and follows Eric.
At the smoking pit, Marisa, Shelly and a few boys are standing around smoking and vaping. Marisa sees them coming and remarks, “no new bruises, guess her bark is worse than her bite.”
“It was nothing, she has probably forgotten by now. We still have presentation today, we are ready. I have all the visuals.”
“You said that you are supposed to have money in trust and she is spending it. That is illegal you know.”
“How do you know?”
“Shelly’s dad is a lawyer. We asked him last night. He could look into it for you. Serve the bitch right.”
“What do you mean?”
Shelly responds, “he is already checking into it. Your mom’s lawyer should have made sure your money was safe and that she couldn’t spend it. If he didn’t, that is a breach of his responsibility. Your mom didn’t just take your money, her lawyer broke the law too. My dad is a board member in the Law society, they don’t like it when one of their members breach their legal responsibilities. My dad is more interested in what your lawyer did.”
Marisa interrupts, “she insulted me and I intend on making her pay for that. I want her charged.”
“But having her charged and any money left held in trust for me doesn’t do anything for you?”
“Sure it does, I get to watch her squirm as she gets what is coming to her. Shelly’s dad wants to see you after school in his office.”
“Ok. I will go see him. Let me know where it is and I will take my bike. Don’t forget. Second block, we are the second presentation. Don’t be late.” Peter is already worried about the pickle he is in.
“We will be there; I have never gotten an A.” Marisa says as she takes a drag on her cigarette.
Peter leaves and runs back to the school as the second bell rings. He gets to class obviously out of breath and attempts to quietly slip into class without being too obvious. The Math teacher notices but decides to not mark Peter late. Class proceeds and at the warning bell, Peter collects his books with growing trepidation. What if the girls don’t show up? Can he do the presentation himself?
First bell. Peter enters Mr. Caleigh’s Social studies classroom. With a quick glance, he is relieved to see both Marisa and Shelly sitting at their group desk. Books already opened.
Shelly finishes up her final submission and says to the class, “you have heard both accounts, with a show of hands, who won the war of 1812?” The class votes overwhelmingly that the Canadians won. One week later the group got an A plus on the report and Peter got an invitation to Marisa’s house to meet her parents.
Later that day, peter rides his bike across the Lions gate bridge and worriedly arrives at the Lawyers office. He gets off his bike and locks it in a bike rack along the side walk, turns and enters the tall building. Up in the plush office of Markson and Markson he walks over to the reception desk and waits to be acknowledged.
“You must be Peter Mclean. Mr. Markson will see you in just a few minutes. There is a cooler right in there with juice, water and pop. You can have one while you wait.
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Post by texican on Jul 17, 2019 17:03:00 GMT -6
FT,
Definitely where we are today....
Without a lot of money and clout one is doomed to the violent feminists that lie about everything....
Thanks for the chapter....
TD
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Post by sniper69 on Jul 18, 2019 4:16:15 GMT -6
Thank you for the excellent chapters to this fine story. It is appreciated.
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Post by texican on Jul 18, 2019 13:14:49 GMT -6
Thank you for the excellent chapters to this fine story. It is appreciated. FT, Additional chapters would add icing to the cake.... Texican....
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Post by forthteller on Jul 18, 2019 18:12:49 GMT -6
Chapter 14
A monster in the making
“Sign here, Ms. Mclean. And here.” Looking at Peter, “that should do it. You will receive an allowance of 1,500 a month and have all your tuition paid from the time you are 18.”
“But I will graduate way before that. I want to go to U of C right away.”
“I am afraid that your mother is your legal guardian and still the trustee of your settlement. If she chooses to, she can authorize payment prior to that but that will be her decision.”
“Looking at his mother, how come she wasn’t charged, she stole money that was supposed to be in trust for me.”
“Peter, she needs to provide for your needs and is entitled to take money form your trust to meet those expenses.”
“Those expenses include a massive house we don’t need?”
Peters mother, Rachel is in a rare state of sobriety and not hung over as well. “Now Peter, no need to talk like that, the house is owned jointly now so you own half. I made a mistake when I purchased it and didn’t put you on the deed.”
“Righto. I believe that. I guess my trust pays for your booze and take out too?”
That comment was ignored by both Rachel and the Attorney but being a local, she knew Peter was speaking the truth. It was not her place to get involved in family issues.
Outside, peter follows his mother to her Cayenne. Getting in the passenger seat, he buckles himself in. Neither he nor his mother say a word all the way home.
Christmas comes and goes. Peters mom stays sober the whole time and things get a little better between them. She even bought him Christmas presents and put a stocking up for him.
Boxing day, Peter Is over at Marisa’s house with Shelly and another crew member, Mark.
Mark takes something out of his pocket and drops it onto the table. It is 4 baggies of white powder. “Best on the market. I can get it in bulk, we cut it and bag it. Instant profit. Looking pale, Peter says, “dope maybe but not that crap. People die from it.”
“Not this shit, guaranteed. I have known the contact for years.”
“Standing up, Peter says, not me. Count me out.”
“Shelly stands up and says, me either. I am not doing this.”
An irate Marisa shouts, “f$#k you both then, get out of here.”
As they are heading out, Marisa says, “you chickenshits better not tell anyone. I will know who squealed.”
In Unison, Peter and Shelly both say, “we won’t.”
Outside, on the street the air was chilly and a slight drizzle was falling. Shelly says, “what do you want to do. My folks are home, you can come over. Dad likes you.”
Peter feeling a little uncomfortable around there says, “lets go over to the plaza and get something in Starbucks.”
Over expensive coffee and banana bread they chat. Shelly asking him, no telling him how he feels and helping him come to terms with some of the confusion in his mind. She gets him to share about Walter Johnson and some of the great memories he had with him. “You know Peter, there are other great people out there like him, you will meet them if you keep putting yourself out there. And not all women are like the ones you have met so far.”
“Your different, but the rest are all the same.”
After walking her home, Peter heads home to use his new PS5. He has several games he wants to try out on it and he now has an internet connection in the guest house so he can play online.
The following week, Marisa is frostier than usual and won’t work on any assignments and hardly comes to class now. “You are going to fail if you don’t start getting something done.”
“Who cares, I am making more than the stupid teachers now so who is the smart one?”
Shelly is standing behind Peter by now and looking over his head, “Marisa, you know you cannot trust the people you are involved with. If you get caught or another group decides to push back, they will abandon you like an old rag.”
“Yeah right, like you two f$#ks. I don’t need friends like you. You only keep my secret because you know what will happen if you squeal.”
“Over lunch, shelly says to Peter. Don’t worry about her, she has to make her own choices.”
“How do you know I was worrying about her?”
“I just do.”
“You know she is the smartest person I know. She could be exceptional if she just decided to be.”
“She knows. She actually thinks she is smarter than everyone else but she wants them to think she is not. She does not have the ability to accept any praise, all she can accept is condemnation, it is who she thinks she is.”
“Why”
“Her father. Have you ever noticed the way he looks at her or the way she pulls back if he even touches her?”
“You mean he?”
“Not anymore but he did when she was little.”
“Why not go to the police?”
“She can’t do that. She went to her mother first and she made her promise never to tell anyone. He stopped after that but she still doesn’t trust him.”
“That’s horrible. Is there anything we can do?”
“I tried but she won’t even admit it happened but I know for certain it did, many times when we were younger.”
After school that day, Peter walks Shelly home. It is raining again and, on the way, Shelly suggests they go to Peters guest house to play on his new PS5. Great idea. They do, until supper time at which time she calls home to tell her parents that she was at Marisa’s for dinner.
Peter smiles when she does this and his imagination runs wild but he halts that thought knowing that he was 14 and she was 16.
“Others may think that Peter, but I like you too and age really doesn’t matter to me, you are so much more mature than any of the other boys I know.”
Peter thought, “how does she know I was thinking that.”
Shelley looks at him with young love, “I just know.”
Shelly gets home that night and goes to bed thinking about Peter.
Peter goes to bed, thinking about Shelly.
Studying and hanging out together, the two outsiders both got A’s and their relationship flourishes. Within their privileged community and with their freedom and privacy, intimacy results. It was after one of these evenings that Peter was walking Shelly home when they passed Marks house and an ambulance was there, lights flashing. Police cars are on the street and in the driveway. They cross on the other side of the road and try to ignore what is going on.
Inside her house, Shelly is met by her mom, relief and concern apparent in her unusual hugs.
“What’s wrong mom?”
“I thought you were with Marisa. She overdosed tonight; she is in the hospital. Mark is dead. Pentanol they said. I was afraid you were with them. I am so happy to see you.” Realization overwhelms her, “where were you, where have you been?”
“I was over at Peters studying. Haven’t you noticed my midterm grades? I don’t hang out with Marisa anymore.”
“The police were already here; they want to talk to you.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“They think you do. Marisa had a substantial quantity of the drugs on her. If she makes it, she will be charged with trafficking. Go to your room now. We will talk tomorrow.”
Within a week, Shelly’s family was packing up to move. As a lawyer, her father had connections everywhere and had transferred to a law firm in Toronto. They left a less than week later. Shelly spent every available moment with Peter and they parted vowing to reconnect when they got an opportunity.
They stayed in contact on line, by mail and on the phone but about 2 months in, Shelly stopped communicating. The home number changed and the new one was unlisted and the law firm would not give out the new one. Her cell number was cancelled, and her on line presence disappeared. Peter never heard from her again.
The school year ended with Peter winning the top marks for the year, again. He had fully completed grade 11. His 15th birthday came and went and since his mother had been back drinking since February she never noticed again. Marisa pulled through and got two years in Juvenile detention.
July 2nd, Peter was alone as usual, skateboarding at the park. He had not competed since they moved to West Vancouver but he was registered for a mid August event in Coquitlam. Several of the old crew were hunched over a bong in the small shelter but they never bothered him. He was now invisible. Peter heads home to make himself something to eat. I hope she bought some groceries. In his driveway, a tow truck is just finished strapping his moms’ cayenne down on the deck.
He walks over to his mom, who is standing in the doorway watching. “is it broke down?”
“No, I forgot to pay a payment and they are taking it.”
“Mom, it takes more than one missed payment to get repossessed.”
“Well this time it did. I don’t want to talk about it.” She turns and goes back in the house, slamming the door.
Peter opens it, steps inside and as his mom is about to enter the living room, “are we having money problems?”
“Of course not, mind your own business. I am taking care of it.”
Peter heads into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and pulls out the food he wants to eat and sets it out on the counter. Chopping up the onions, he flips the dial to low to preheat the pan. Spark, spark, spark, spark, nothing. Putting down the knife he stands right in front of the gas stove, no smell of gas. He tries another element, nothing. Peter heads out the side door and up the sidewalk to the gas meter. It is off and a massive pad lock is on it. The gas tag looks official.
Into the living room he marches. His mom is refilling a drink glass as he enters. “Mom, did you pay the gas bill?”
“I don’t know. I paid them all, I think. I know I paid the car payments.” She slumps back in her easy chair.
“Mom. Where are the bills?”
“I will take care of them tomorrow. Don’t worry sweetie. I love you.”
She drops the half full glass and drifts off, actually she passes out. Peter notices a pill bottle on the table. It is still open. He reaches across his slumped mother and picks up the bottle. Reading the ingredients, he looks at his mother, “how did you get this prescription?”
She doesn’t answer, her breathing becoming labored. Peter puts the bottle down and checks his mothers’ pulse. Weak and thready. He checks her skin, pale and clammy, her breathing is slowing and almost undectable.
Looking at his mother passed out in her chair, overdosing, Peter makes the decision that would set his destiny.
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Post by texican on Jul 19, 2019 12:16:28 GMT -6
Looking at his mother passed out in her chair, overdosing, Peter makes the decision that would set his destiny.
FT, Time, decisions and circumstances continue to plague Peter....
Now only two options concerning his mom: Call 911 or Do Not Call 911.... Now which will it be? Live with not calling 911 or live with a mom that is not a mom and an alcoholic wreck....
What a decision for a 15 year old boy to make....
Thanks FT for the chapter.... Texican...
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Post by NCWEBNUT on Jul 21, 2019 8:19:32 GMT -6
OK I'm down to one finger holding on to this Cliff what did Peter decide ?
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Post by forthteller on Jul 22, 2019 1:10:41 GMT -6
Chapter 15
A monster emerges
“So, you can sign here and here. All done.” Peters new lawyer and trustee are both in the Burnaby Law office. Both men, he got to choose this time.
His lawyer says, your mother did not leave a will but as her only offspring you will inherit everything she had left after her debts are paid and taxes are covered. Her sister is contesting but I doubt she will have much chance since she has had no contact with you in years even though she only lives across the Lions gate. My fees and property transfer taxes plus windfall taxes will take some as well.
Peter, who had already gone over the financial details and had been present when the house was appraised, viewed and sold, was satisfied with his legal representation. He had been aghast at his mothers’ financial mismanagement. Alcohol and drugs had killed her long ago. The house prices had hit bottom in 2021 and his sober mom had negotiated a great price. The house had already increased in value by almost 9 percent. Combined with the large down payment she had put down, the house still had over 1.1 million in equity. His mother had been allowed to take 6,000 a month from his primary trust fund and she had already spent all the money from her share of the settlement. He could not understand how she couldn’t make ends meet. He knew she couldn’t get an equity loan without going to see a lawyer or getting his consent and he sadly reflected on her determination to not go to a man for assistance. Both would have recommended selling and moving to a cheaper home and in addition Peter would have also demanded she go for alcohol abuse treatment.
Luckily, for Peter, the oncoming foreclosure was halted by her death and the house was sold for substantially more than was owed on it. A pang of guilt hit him but he pushed it down.
Nervously, Peter adjusts himself in the plush chair. “How much will be left after all the expenses are paid?”
“I cannot say for certain because some of the creditors are still in the process of filing claims against the estate. It looks like a little over 1 million.”
The trustee breaks in, “that money will be added to your personal trust which you can access at 18 years old but you can continue drawing 3,000 a month until then. You also have your education trust which will fund tuition and expenses for any degree you wish to pursue. You cannot cash that out until you are 25, if you do not use it for education.”
“How long do I have to stay in the group home here? The school I go to is for losers and I have already completed everything they are making me go to.”
“When you turn 16 next year, we can approach the courts and request that they allow you to move into your own apartment in a community you want to live in. You would have to have a good argument and you would need to convince the judge that you have the capacity to take care of all your own needs. As trustee, we could appoint a remote guardian who would act as a conduit between the courts and yourself.”
“More money. Will family services continue to contribute if I am granted this?”
“No. They only support you while you are a ward of the ministry. Once you become independent, they are no longer financially responsible.”
“Really? It would cost way less than having me in a group home?”
“That is the system. Would you be willing to go into a foster home? There are a few that have spaces for a young man your age. You would age out at 18.”
“Are there any foster homes available out in Langley. I want to go to a school there.”
“I will let your worker know your request. You have an appointment with her this week. They need your input before they make any decisions.”
Peters social worker sits across from him at a plain ministry desk in a plain ministry office with the same assortment of equipment in it. Stapler, stacks of files, blotter and pen holder. Like a carbon copy of the offices he passed on the way here. “Peter, please call me April. We don’t need to be formal here.”
“Ok, April. How soon can I get out of this group home? The school they send me too is full of people I wouldn’t even hire to cut my grass. They keep steeling my stuff and I have to sneak in and out to avoid getting pushed around.”
“I am sorry Peter. I will talk to the Administrator.”
“I have talked to her, several times. She nods and smiles, says she will talk to the others, next morning I get woken up with a bucket of ice or dragged out into the hall while guys kick and hit me. They all run off as soon as the supervisors get there. Nothing ever happens.”
“I can have you moved to a different facility.”
“No, the solution is to give real consequences to the perpetrators. They know nothing will happen so the keep doing it. I either join in their crap or I am the victim.”
“Peter, you know that I cannot do anything about that. I can move you to another facility, the way you conduct yourself in the new facility will dictate how they interact with you.”
“Have you looked at me, I am only 160 centimeters tall, it starts the moment I get there. We have protections for every gender, every race, every disability but a man my size is openly and frequently discriminated against. Mostly by women. Can I get sent to a male only reformatory?”
“Peter, don’t be so dramatic, you are not yet a man and you will still grow. Also, you don’t live in a reformatory you live in a group home.”
“Same difference, can I go to a male only one?”
“I am afraid they are all gender inclusive.”
“Fine then, I want to go into a foster home in South East Langley. There is a school there with a great computer department and a great teacher.”
“I will check into it.”
Back at the group home, peter climbs the stairs and walks down the hall, two girls at a room next to his are snickering as he passes. Wearily, he opens the door, there is a lump in the middle of his bed. “Now what.” Pulling back the blanket to look underneath, he exposes a naked sex doll. As he looks down, one of the girls from the hall says smile. He turns as she takes several pictures, turns, and laughing, skips out of the room. Peter yanks the doll from the bed and tosses it across the room. Down to the supervisor’s office he heads. She comes up to investigate but the doll is gone before they arrive. Within an hour, pictures of Peter with the sex doll flood the internet, he has become infamous.”
Two nights later, a small hooded and black clad person slips over the open window sill in room 204, the room shared by the two girls who set Peter up for the sex doll pictures. Quietly the black clad person searches drawers and the closet. Taped beneath the desk drawer is what he is looking for. 6 small plastic baggies of white powder. The masked figure removes the baggies and replaces them with others that look so similar, nobody would ever notice.
Friday, Peter stays late at school, not wanting to go to the group home because of the bullying and harassment. Currant policy is that group homes be co-ed because it is thought that less bullying and fighting takes place than in gender exclusive facilities. True, there is less actual fighting but there is way more harassment, verbal bulling and the sneaky kind Peter is subjected to. 4:30, the vice principle shoos peter out of the library where he was working on an on-line advanced class. Peter reluctantly leaves and heads back to his group home.
At dinner, Peter sits alone like always and he protectively defends his desert and his tray. Rarely does a day pass when he doesn’t trip or another student trips, causing him to spill some or all his food. He is so done with it. Friday night; too bad his board was ruined because someone had poured vinegar into the bearings. He was going to head over to the park anyways, maybe one of the guys will let him take a spin on his board.
At the park, Ethan sees Peter coming. “Hey guys, you gotta see this guy roll. He can do tricks I have only seen on X games.”
Peter gets to the edge of the bowl and sits on the edge of a grind ledge. “Hi guys. S’up.”
“Chillin, where’s your board?”
“F$#ked. Someone at the house poured vinegar in the bearings, they wont spin properly now. Have to replace the races and bearings now.”
“Wanna use one of my boards. If you bring yours tomorrow, I have some spare 6’s we can put in.”
“Sure. Boarding always makes me feel better.”
“You at the Boundary group home?”
“Yeah. Place sucks. Idiots in there are a bunch of losers.”
“I hear. It was better when it was only boys but co-ed turned it into a cesspool.”
“You know it.” The boys spend hours in the park, doing tricks, teaching one another, hanging out and smoking pot. Peter declines the pot; the others think nothing of it.
Around nineish, Peter heads back to the group home. Ambulances and paramedics are all over when he gets there. Several police cars are parked at both ends of the street and he is stopped by an officer.
“Where are you going son?”
“I live in the house over there. What is going on?”
Waving one of the group home supervisors over, “I have another one of your kids here.”
His supervisor walks over, “where have you been Peter, you had us worried?”
“At the skate board park. Curfew is 10, I am early. What is going on?”
“Several of our residents have overdosed. We were worried you might have as well.”
“Are you nuts, you know I don’t touch that shit.”
She ignores his response.
The officer asks Peter, “did you know they were using?”
“I keep to myself and try to stay away from them all.” Peter looks at the supervisor. “You know that.”
“The officer standing beside them says to Peter, do you know where they get their drugs?”
“Nope. I don’t even talk to any of them, you can ask her.”
“He is right. He has been here for 2 weeks and has never blended in. He is still an outsider.”
“Yeah right, you let them bully me, steal my stuff and wreck what they don’t steal. Nothing ever happens.”
Walking away she says, “Peter, there is no need to be like that, you can stay here for now while I arrange for somewhere for you to stay tonight.”
The RCMP officer standing beside peter says, “is it really like that in there?”
“It is. They do whatever they want, skip school, drink, smoke pot and bully anyone who doesn’t. Nothing ever happens. They get a talking to, time outs, curtailed privileges and nothing changes. They should be in jail.”
“How old are you?”
“15.”
“Where are your parents?”
“Dead. Both overdoses. My dad took off years ago and died on the street, my mom was an alcoholic and committed suicide by taking pills with booze.’
“I am sorry. My name is Patrick. Would you mind if I look in on you after you get back into your group home?”
“Sure.”
As they are standing there, Patrick sees the front door open and a covered stretcher coming out, “you need to look away, I don’t want you to see this.”
Peter looks at the stretcher and also at a second covered stretcher now rolling out, “every kid should see this, that is the reality of drugs.”
In all, 5 kids overdosed, 2 died as a result and the other three were revived using naloxone which is in the medical kit at the group home.
“You don’t use? I can smell marijuana on you.”
“I don’t use or drink. The guys at the skate board park were smoking, I was standing with them. Good guys but they don’t believe they would be better riders if they didn’t smoke up. I blame the media and the dope lobbies for that.”
Two days later, Officer Patrick Kent is standing in the office of Peters social worker. He is holding Peters last few report cards and his profile. “Why didn’t your organization take custody of him earlier. This boy has been abused for years?”
“He was never abused. He was neglected but because of his abilities, every time we investigated, his health and well being were intact. Poor parenting is not a crime or cause for removal.”
“Weekends for drunk driving, probation for dealing, she stole from her own son and he had to cook his own meals and take care of his own needs from 13 on. How is that not abuse?”
“Showing up in court without hard evidence would never attain a judgement.”
“Hard evidence, like bruises and broken bones? How about his mind, it can be broken too?”
“We have talked to him many times, he does well in school, handles personal relationships with some difficulty but he is able to take care of himself with apparent success.”
“So, because he doesn’t use or cause trouble at school, he is not worthy of attention.”
“We have limited resources and we have to invest those resources where they are most needed.”
“One week later, Peter is sitting in the first ever 4 x 4 pickup truck he has ever ridden in. Travelling down the highway to Langley he marvelled at the expansive spaces now between housing developments. He had never been out of the city and most of the parks and vacant land in the city was either groomed or full of tent cities. Even the Capilano valley was almost all off limits now.”
Slowing to exit at 232nd, Patrick looks over at Peter and asks, “pretty quiet, what are your thinking, Peter?”
“Just wondering what it would be like to grow up out here. People everywhere in the city. In the cacophony of noise, it is hard to think. West Vancouver was better but even it was busy too. A man can hear himself think out here.”
“You consider yourself a man?”
“Absolutely. I have been taking care of myself for years and making adult decisions for as long.”
“Such as?”
“School, bills, career, future plans and who I associate with. I never do anything without considering the consequences, looking at how it affects today and the future and without looking at lessons learned in the past.”
“Don’t you think you grew up too fast, never got to be a boy long enough.”
“Tell that to my mother, my social worker, my teachers, the principle and the support staff in the house. All women by the way. Tell that to Walters ex wife or to the lady who posted my picture in the papers or the judge who refused Walter legal aid. If they did what was needed and took care of details, I would not have had to do it myself.”
“Stuff they need to take care of? Details?”
“Discipline. People never get punished or held accountable for their actions. There is no reason to stop doing illegal or immoral stuff because there are no personal immediate consequences. The long-range consequences we get to see in exploding addiction, homelessness and tent cities. Panhandlers, drug dealing and such. Nobody looks at those and connects them to what we did yesterday, last year and last decade. As for details, pay your bills, fix your car, teach your kids to do chores and accept responsibility for the decisions you make.”
“What would you do with the tent cities?”
“Mandatory drug and alcohol treatment, mandatory work and for those who refuse, they go to work camps run by private enterprise where they are forced to work and contribute. Private business that is not subsidized by government will ensure that they get value for services from every individual.”
“You are talking about violating peoples’ rights and selling them into slavery.”
“Nope. I am talking about people who sold themselves into slavery. There is no reason they cannot get clean and sober and make decisions that change their life. The problem is, we condition them from children to not accept responsibility for their actions and we shield them from consequences. Then as they age, we lose the ability to shield them from those consequences but because they have not learned to accept responsibility for their actions, society gets to become responsible for the consequences. Tent cities, welfare, policing, health care and filth are the consequences society faces while we have a massive labor shortage.”
“Are you sure you are only 15?”
Joking now, Peter says, “I can show you my ID and no, it is not fake.”
Slowing down, Patrick takes a left and drives east on 48th. One half a kilometer down he pulls into a large gravel driveway with a large well-groomed front yard and an older 2 story house. Flowers and bushes line the walk. Peter can see short bushy trees lining the west fence. He can hear engine noises over the crunching gravel and can smell the fresh crisp air.
The truck stops and Peter excitedly jumps down from the lifted truck. “Patrick says, grab your bag, no room service here.”
A tall motorcycle appears and then a smaller one. They approach and both stop about 15 meters away. The rider of the larger of the two flips his leg over the seat and flips down the side kickstand. The rider of the smaller bike does the same. The older rider pulls his helmet off and walks over and extends his hand, “hi peter, I’m Jake. Do you ride?”
“Only skateboards.”
“Cool. I am not great but I ride a bit as well. How old are you?”
“15”
170 cm tall Jake looks at peter and says, “no way, you are smaller than Becky here and she is ten.” Catching himself for being rude, he says, “sorry dude, didn’t mean to be rude, just I am only 12 and like you are way down there.”
“No offense, I get it all the time. My mom was a drug addict and it stunted my growth early on.”
Patrick is watching the interaction and evaluating peters reaction. Thinking to himself, “he is auditioning and he doesn’t even know it.”
On the way in, Patrick pulls his son to the side and gives him a small bit of advice. “You want to watch out if you offend him. He may not look it but little digs like that hurt him greatly. He pretends everything is great but he has had a really hard life.”
“Okay dad. Sorry.”
Not only that but he was the BC Junior champion trick rider when he was only 12 so I bet he can teach you something.”
Racing into the house, Jake interrupts the greeting between Peter and Jakes mother Dedra. “My dad says you are a BC champion. That is so cool, wait until you meet my friends, they will be so stoked.”
Peter is dumbfounded. Everyone at his school and in his community knows he is a border and almost nobody cares or even credits him for the hours and hours of practice he does to learn his tricks or even acknowledges his provincial standing. The crew in Burnaby were interested and wanted him to teach them but his own family didn’t even care. That is why he stopped competing, nobody cared so why should he.
Two days passed at light speed. Lying in a cot in Jakes room, Peter couldn’t believe it. He had ridden a motorcycle, a horse, and his skateboarded. He had driven a tractor, cleaned horse stalls and done dishes. The crew Jake hung out with didn’t smoke or drink when he was around and they were all great boarders. He even got to try long boarding which is banned in all of Vancouver and area.
Jakes older brother came home from university Saturday evening and they all went to church Sunday morning. Peter inwardly wept as he sat in the audience, he didn’t know why but he never allowed anyone to notice. Patrick did and with a smile, he gave a nod to Peter.
At dinner Sunday night, Patrick and his wife nod at one another. “You have all met Peter and to be honest, this weekend was an audition. We were all on our best behavior and I know he was as well. So, here is the question. Knowing that there will also be hard times and times that we don’t always get along or agree, would we like to add Peter to our family.”
Jake was first, “I wasn’t auditioning. I like him and he can share my room if he wants.”
The youngest daughter, Hanna says, “I already have two brothers, I think we need a girl. Plus, he is so little, my friends at school will laugh at me.”
“Hanna, why would they laugh at you?”
“They laugh at Sarah because she has a down sister.”
“Do you laugh at her too?” Asks Dedra.
“No, I don’t play with her.”
“Why not?”
“Because she always brings her sister with her and her sister is so slow! I don’t want another brother; boys are so stupid.”
Dedra stops her daughter. Where did you learn that?
“All the girls know how stupid boys are, even the teachers say that.”
Patrick has had enough, “excuse me young lady, boys are different than girls, that doesn’t make them stupid.”
“They are too, Ms. Jacobson was angry because almost all the boys failed the English test and we all passed. She said they were not listening and fidgeting too much. They are all going to be a bunch of illiterates and will only be good enough to build houses if they don’t pay attention.”
“She said that? Are you sure?”
“You can even ask Jake; he had her last year.”
Patrick is now angry. Addressing Jake, “does she talk like that in class?”
“Sometimes, but we all just laugh about it at recess. English is a stupid subject anyways. Most of our teachers don’t like us. They claim the budget cuts make it so they cannot spend enough time with us but we all know they don’t want to anyways. If we don’t sit quietly like the girls and cooperate in our groups we are asked to leave. I get 90s in my exams but they always give more weight to group work. I don’t care anyways.”
Peter, watching this exchange, takes it in and thinks to himself. “No different here either. Girls never tell you what they really think and they tell you what to think as well.”
Patrick has had enough, “Hannah, scrape your plate in the chicken bucket and go to your room. Your mother and I will be up to talk to you.” Thinking to himself that he needs to talk to the teachers as well.
“What do you think, Peter? If you come live with us, you will be expected to do chores as well and because you are older, my expectation would be that you would carry a higher level of responsibility. Could you live with that?”
Peter looks around the table, Hannah is not in the room and he knows she is going to make trouble for him. If he lived here, he would have to insure he was never alone with her, he didn’t trust her. At least she was honest about not wanting him here. He could read Dedra as well though, she didn’t trust him and didn’t want him here either but she would never say that because he was one of the vulnerable children women like her want helped, always by someone else. She had her pretty little perfect home and family here, and he, the outsider from an alcoholic addict background was going to upset her apple cart. Hannah he could handle, she was honest, Dedra was a time bomb.
“I don’t think I would fit here. Hannah does not want me here and she said it. Mrs. Drake doesn’t want me here either but she doesn’t have the courage to say so.”
“Peter, I don’t think Dedra thinks that.” Looking at his wife, he pauses. “Honey, is he right?”
“I am sorry Patrick; I just think bringing a child his age and with his experience into our house could be destructive to our cohesiveness. I wish we could have talked about this more.”
“We did, last night. You told me how much he needed a forever family. I thought you meant ours.”
“I thought so too but the more I look at it the more I think it is a bad idea. He has a safe place to live, a place to go to school and he is less than a semester away from graduation. It would disrupt our household and a year from now he is off to university. How could we possibly help him?”
Peter, sitting there, wanting to alleviate the situation, proposes another solution. “How about I go back to the group home and try to get transferred to one closer to here. I could spend time with Jake and help with chores but not live here.”
Patrick, feeling terrible for Peter, another rejection from another woman. “That is a good idea Peter. I will talk with your worker and see what I can do. Silence for the rest of the meal.”
The following morning Jake comes running down the stairs, “Peter is gone, his stuff is gone and his skateboard is gone.”
Looking at his wife, Patrick stands. He takes his keys from the rack without saying anything and is heading out the door when Jake says, “dad, I coming with you.”
6 months later; Patrick, Jake and Peter are coming back from the BC skateboarding championships in Prince George. Jake had made the finals in junior halfpipe and Peter had won 2 golds in the top amateur division. Having graduated with honors, peter was already preparing to move from the group home to the University of Calgary Dormitories and they were all so full of joy that they were chatting away about nothing.
Heading north on the old trans Canada highway, Candice Blake was traveling at over 90 kms an hour in her fathers Supercab Ford F350. She was having an argument with her boyfriend on the phone and needed to get advice from her friend so she was texting her while she talked on the phone with her boyfriend. The friend texted, “what did he say?” Her response, “he said,…” Looking up, she had crossed the centerline and an oncoming truck was meters away.
Travelling south around a long bend, Patrick was also travelling about 90. As he came out of the bend, he could see another truck cross the centerline, he slowed, it went back into its lane. Patrick begans to pick up speed again, the other truck again veers into his lane. He is able to swerve to his right enough that he only hit the other truck head on, drivers’ side to drivers’ side.
Even with the airbags, Patrick was killed instantly. Jake, in the center, was injured but was released from hospital a few days later. Peter never got a scratch and standing on the side of the road, he was relieved that he would not have to kill the other driver as the accident had claimed her life as well.
The police came and took statements. Peter was sent to the hospital with Jake for observations and a grief counsellor came to see him. He was pronounced okay. That week he packed his bags in his Langley group home, never said good bye to anyone and flew to Calgary.
In the fall, 16-year-old Peter Mclean moved into his own condominium instead of dorms and he purchased his own used furniture. He registered for and started his degree program for computer engineering and decided that he was going to do what was needed for society.
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Post by gipsy on Jul 22, 2019 21:20:08 GMT -6
Unleash the dogs in the near future.
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Post by texican on Jul 22, 2019 21:51:27 GMT -6
FT,
Peter got an education in vile feminism and it had made him what he is becoming....
Wonder how many males in today's world have gone thru and are going thru the same thing....
Not all females are this way, but way to many are....
What a sad world our world has become....
Thanks for the chapter....
Texican....
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Post by forthteller on Jul 26, 2019 10:24:41 GMT -6
Chapter 16,
Eugene. may 2020
Richard Saxon
Not all signs of abuse are visible, sometimes the bruises are seen in the consequences.
Men are 3 to 5 times more likely than women to be successful in taking their own lives.
Single homeless. 75 percent are men. In the US 1/3 are veterans. 97 percent of veteran homeless are men.
Rattling down the emergency stairs, Richard Saxon breathes hard as he gathers his breath. Once at the bottom, he starts up again. 10 trips a day up the 20 flights of stairs as both an effort at fitness but more so, an excuse to not spend lunch breaks with any of his mostly female co workers.
Richard was an experienced, qualified and skilled chartered accountant. Until two years ago, he had his own firm and was one of two senior partners. His divorce settlement and support judgement cost him so much he had to sell his share of the firm to pay out the mortgage of his family home. A home his ex-wife now owns. He got the small condo they owned as an investment but it still has a substantial mortgage.
He now worked for another accounting firm as a supervisor but his salary and his bullpen office are nothing compared to what he was used to. In fact, he was selling his condo because he did not make enough to pay spousal and child support and pay his mortgage on the condo. The equity will be enough for him to pay off all the outstanding debt he and his wife had accumulated due to their lavish lifestyle.
The boat, the motorhome and his off-road equipment had all been sold. The remaining debt had been folded into his mortgage. Somehow, he ended up with all the credit card debt as well.
Richard was allowed to have his three kids every second Saturday and had bought a smaller, older motorhome to take them places. His two bedroom, soon to be sold townhouse was judged by the courts to be too small to afford adequate privacy for his two daughters of 12 and 13 so they were not allowed sleepovers. Despite the ardent protestations by the girls in court, his wife’s lawyer was able establish that for the safety of the girls, overnights were too risky. Without a lawyer himself, Richard was at a loss to prove there was no risk to safety.
As both girls were competitive distance runners, Richard had resumed his previous pastime and was now competing at events they were competing in. His son, at 10, was also active and his favorite sport was skateboarding. A typical weekend for them was; he would pick them up early enough to drive to whatever event they were entered in, they would compete and then spend the rest of the day at a skate park while the son practiced.
Saturday April 25, 2020
Richard pulls up to the curb on the modern 2 story home that he once shared with his wife and family. The front door flies open and 2 girls hastily appear. In single file, they skip down the stair’s, backpacks dangling. Peter trails, skateboard in hand, backpack over one shoulder.
In a flash Richard is around the truck and barely has the side door open before the anxious kids get to it. As Chloe, the oldest is entering, “what’s the hurry, race is in Middleton, not far at all. Plenty of time?”
Ben, his 10-year-old son stops. “It’s mom. She wasn’t going to let us go today. Says you are corrupting us. We have been arguing since we got up.”
“Well get in, we can talk about this on the way. I will talk to Mom after I bring you back tonight.”
The kids all pile in, stash their packs and seat themselves. Once the kids were all buckled up, Richard starts the camper up and pulls from the driveway. He can see the parted curtains in the front window and the face of his ex wife as he leaves. “Crap, now what,” He thinks as he gets up to speed.
In Middleton Richard parks the camper a good distance away from the event because he always needs to take two parking spots because of the campers’ length. They all scramble out and head over to registration to pick up their packages. All are pre registered, Ben and Clarise in the 5 k, Chloe and Richard in the 10k. They head over to the staging area.
Pinning their bibs on, Richard gives some last-minute strategic advice and encouragement. The two younger kids are in the 13 and under category and Clarise says, “if I can run 19:45 I can use it to get direct entrance into the State championships.”
“Clarice. That is an under 14 time, I don’t think that is a reasonable goal.”
“I can do it. I have been running 1:12 400 repeats. I think I can easily beat that time.”
“Ok homey. Take a shot at it but pace yourself,” Richard says as he hands out some heart rate monitors. “These are for you, we need to start keeping track of our heartrate and times. These have programs in them for training and for racing.”
10-year-old Ben takes his and says, “cool. I heard about these, a couple of the kids on the southland team have them.”
They all strap the monitors on, at almost 400 dollars each, Richard thinks they are going to be really great. 10 k lineups get called. Richard and Chloe take their spots in the expected 40 minute 10 k times line up. Clarice and Ben line up with the 5-k group which will start 15 minutes later.
Standing there, Richard is troubled by what happened this morning. His kids couldn’t wait to get away from their own home. They were all stressed and upset when he picked them up. It wasn’t until they were parking that he noticed a sense of calm take over. He did not think he wanted to bring it up with his children today but he was certainly going to be talking to his ex wife about it tonight.
The announcer starts counting down, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 bang goes the starters pistol. Hundreds of feet begin the crowded shuffle. Moments later as the crowd begins to spread, the steady pounding of an early pace begins. Richard and Chloe drop into a steady rhythm. Both check their wrist monitors and click the pace function. Satisfied, they both breathe easily with the cadence of their strides.
“so, how is school going, you had a big report to do on the war of 1812?”
“Report went well. My Socials teacher did not agree with the version of events I presented. I had lots of sources and information to support what I presented. She still marked me down because our curriculum has a different conclusion.”
“Doesn’t sound like it went all that well.”
“Oh, it did. I disputed the mark she gave me and went to the academic Vice Principle. He looked at my sources and backed me up. He made her re mark the report without taking into consideration her personal view on the event. She refused so he had another teacher mark it. I got an A-, so I am okay with that. Ms. Andrews called mom and told her that I went over her head and caused her a lot of problems. Mom grounded me for a week for belligerence and failing to honor my teachers.”
“Really, grounded you for standing up for yourself?”
“Mom doesn’t believe I was standing up for myself, she knows I don’t like Ms. Andrews and she thinks I was intentionally causing problems for her.”
“Were you?”
“Probably. I picked an event that I knew there was a dispute about the actual record. I wanted to let her know I don’t believe everything she tells us even though I can get good marks regurgitating her crap.”
“Why? Seems like you caused yourself a lot of extra work and hassle.”
“I am taking political science 11 next year and she is teaching it. She took this year’s class out to 2 different protests; both were not optional. I don’t plan on being taught her leftist agenda but I have to have PS 11 for my graduation.”
“Would you be able to switch schools? There are other schools close enough for you to attend.”
“Mom probably wouldn’t sign and I don’t want to switch schools anyway, I got this.”
At the 5-k mark, they booth look at their watches. 21 minutes. “Time to step it up dad, I want to be under 41 minutes.”
They pick up the pace and run silently for the rest of the race, slowing once to take water and a piece of banana from a water station. At the 9 k mark they put in a late kick and Chloe pulls away with a stronger kick. Finishing a good 20 seconds behind his daughter in 40.59, Richard could not be prouder. The other kids had already finished and cheered them across the finish line. A magical smile was on the face of Clarice.
“I take it you made provincial standards time.”
“I crushed it dad. I can’t wait to show my coach. We have to wait until the results get posted and then I can take her the proof.”
Later that day over dinner at White spot, the kids prattle on about school, Minecraft, fortnight, boys and teachers. Richard takes it all in and wishes he could be a bigger part of their lives. Silently, dreading the conversation he has to have with his ex wife when he drops the kids off, he tries to enjoy the meal.
7:42. 18 minutes ahead of the drop-off deadline he pulls up to the curb of the home he once shared with his family. A car he doesn’t recognize is parked in the driveway. His ex wife, Emily comes out and approaches his motorhome as the kids grab their gear. She is obviously agitated. The kids all kiss Richard and thank him for a great day, they all run into the house through the open door.
“you wind them up and it takes me two days to settle them down again. Your daughter caused quite a problem in school this week, did you put her up to it?”
“you mean, did I tell her to stand up for herself and be a critical thinker, you bet I did. She told you what happened and instead of standing up for our daughter, you chastised her for standing up for herself.”
“Standing up for herself is what you think she did. Intentionally provoking a fight is what she did. And Clarice is barely passing. All she cares about is her stupid running. I don’t know what you are teaching my children but I am going to put a stop to it.”
“I have court ordered visitation rights and anything you do would violate that agreement. I am not changing anything, everything I do with our kids is what they want to do. Clarice set a provincial time today for under 14-year old’s.”
“Doesn’t matter, as the primary custodial parent and the legal guardian I am taking her off the track team. She is going to put more effort into he schooling.”
“You don’t know what that will do to her. Running is everything to her. Taking her off the team will crush her spirit.”
“She does the running to please you, that is your thing. When you stopped competing, the whole family benefited. You suddenly had time for us.”
“Really, time to sit around and watch TV, play video games or use our phones. We never did anything together; I do more with them now then we ever did as a family.”
“I am going to see the lawyers on Tuesday, you are going to stop putting ideological ideas into my children’s heads. They need to learn to cooperate, become part of the group and stop causing controversy.”
“You mean, drink the coolaid.”
“There you go again with the conspiracy crap again. No, it is called fit in, go with the flow and stop contesting everything I say and their everything their teachers say.”
“You do what you have to do, I will do what I have to do. Whose car is that?”
“A friend’s, she is storing it there for a few days.”
With that, she turns and heads back to the house. After the door closes, Richard snaps a picture of the car and one of the license plates. Tomorrow, he will drive by her work and see if anyone from there owns it. According to the custody agreement, she is not allowed to have any men she is involved with in the home when the children are there and a car in the driveway when he dropped them off may mean the person is there.
Richard drives away and stops at a local Tim Hortons. He drives past the house; car is still there. He parks across the street and takes a time stamped picture.
2 Hours later, Richard parks around the corner and walks past the house, car is still there. After 1 more pass at 11:00 the car is still there but when Richard goes by at 1 AM, a man is behind the wheel and the car is backing out of the driveway. Dodging into the bushes, Richard gets his phone out and takes a photo. Got Ya.
One week later, Richard exits his office and heads towards the parking lot. On his way, he is stopped by a middle aged, neatly dressed man. “Excuse me are you Richard Saxon?”
“Yes, I am, can I help you?”
Handing him a large manila envelope, “You have been served.”
Richard takes the envelope and says with a smile, “thank you.”
Surprised at the response, the man turns and scurries back in the direction he came from.
Knowing what was in the envelope, Richard didn’t even bother to look at it. He was going to see his new lawyer tomorrow and this will only add fuel. With the money he was now saving by living in his camper and with what he got from the equity of the condo sale, he now had the resources to hire a really good family lawyer, He couldn’t wait to see his wife’s face when she sees his lawyer for the first time.
Later, parking in a residential area, Richard slips into the back of his camper and starts to make himself some dinner. At around 8 he gets a phone call.
“My name is constable hill of the Ontario Provincial Police. Is this Richard Saxon?”
“It is, what is this about?”
“Could you tell me where you are right now sir?”
“I am in my motorhome having dinner.”
“Where?”
“On Niagara St, near my work. Why.”
“Do you have anyone with you sir?”
“No, I am by myself.”
“You are a licensed firearms owner; do you have any firearms with you.”
“Of course not, I am in a motor vehicle. They are all safely stored at the range I belong to.”
“I need you to stay where you are sir, and to stay on the line with me.”
“Can you tell me what this is all about?”
“Not yet sir, please stay where you are, and stay on the line with me.”
Sirens sound and a screech sounds, another siren and another screech.”
“Mr. Saxon. I believe you are now boxed in by two police cars, I need you to open your side door and exit making sure your hands are clearly seen.”
“What is going on here. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Then you won’t have any reason not to exit peacefully and allow the officers outside to question you.”
“Fine I am going out right now,” Richard says as he hangs up. Speed dialing his new lawyer he gets the answering machine. He leaves a quick message about what has just occurred and hangs up.
Someone on a bullhorn yells, “Richard Saxon, you are surrounded, come out with your hands in front of you.”
Richard slowly opens the door and when it is fully opened, he puts his hands into full view and slowly exits the camper. An female officer roughly grabs him, spins him around and yanks his right hand behind his back, “put your left hand behind your back. now!”
Richard does as he is told and the officer snaps some cuffs on him. Two officers rush the camper and he can hear them as they quickly search. Moments later, they emerge. “Nothing Sergeant.”
Sergeant King shouts into Richard’ face, “where is she?”
“Who?”
“Your daughter Clarice.”
“At home with her mother.”
“Wrong. She never came home from school and we have reason to believe she may have been abducted.”
“And you think it was me?”
“Almost always it is the estranged father. So, where is she?”
“Like I said, she should be at home with her mother, if you spent more time looking for her in Regent Park, you may find she went to a friend’s or something. My shoulder is hurting, can you take these things off please?”
“No. We are taking you in for questioning. Like I said, it is always the estranged father.”
As they are getting ready to leave, Richard asks, “can I lock up my camper, everything I own is in there.”
“No. We are taking it in to forensics.”
“Of course, you are going to find evidence she was in there, I take her every other weekend and we always use this camper.”
“We are still taking it in. Watch your head the officer says as Richard gets into the back seat of the cruiser.”
A tow truck rumbles down the street and stops at the Sergeant. A short discussion ensues and the truck drives past and backs up to the rear of the camper. The Cruiser Richard is in drives away and heads towards Toronto.
After a very long 45-minute ride, the cruiser enters the parkade of the combined Oregon state police, Regent Park municipal police department building. Richard is roughly removed from the car, marched to the elevator, silently watched by two officers and then roughly pushed down the hall and into an interrogation room. At this point, he has not been informed of the reason for his arrest, his constitutional right to silence, his right to speak with a lawyer, right to access to legal aid if he does not have a lawyer, and any secondary police cautions.
The door opens. “Where is she?”
“I told you at the camper, at home. I only get her every other Saturday.”
“Ok, lets do it this way. Where were you today?”
“At work. I get off at 5:00. I then went to Safeway and then to the spot where you arrested me. Don’t I get a phone call or a lawyer?”
Sliding a pad of paper and pen across to Richard, the sergeant tells him to write the name and number of someone who can verify his story.
“I can’t because my hands are cuffed behind my back.”
Taking back the pad “Fine, tell me who to call so I can corroborate your story.”
“Gerhard Mason. 555-1355, he is my boss, that is his home number.”
“we will check it out.” With that the sergeant leaves. Richard squirms, his shoulder is aching. He had rotator cuff surgery on it only 6 months ago.
“A few minutes later the sergeant comes back into the room. Ok, your alibi checks out, so how did you pick her up?”
“I didn’t, I didn’t even know she was missing until you showed up at my camper.”
“She has been heard telling her friends that she is coming to live with you and she told her mother this morning that she was going to as well.”
“This is news to me. Last I talked to her was a week ago Saturday.”
“you don’t call your children at least a few times a week between visits, what kind of father are you?”
“One who’s ex wife has my number blocked on all my kids’ phones and who refuses to let me speak with them between court ordered visits.”
“You expect me to believe all this crap. Where is she, we know she was on her way to your location.”
“She did not even know where I was, I park somewhere different every night. And she cannot call because her phone has my number blocked.”
“You expect me to believe that. You can block a number but it doesn’t mean a person cannot call the number they block. Where is she.”
“My wife has an app that does, on all their phones and she has the security password so they cannot disable it. She cannot call me.”
“If you tell us where she is, this could be just a runaway and you helped us find her.”
As the sergeant says this the door opens and an officer attempts to say, his lawyer is here, as the lawyer bursts in. “Have you been read you right Richard?”
“No.”
“Get those cuffs off and get out of the room, I want the cameras off and I want his camper out of impound before I am finished this discussion.”
“I don’t know who you are but we have an amber alert out for a young girl and this man is our prime suspect.”
“I am his lawyer, Steve Owens, and I can tell you, this is not your person. I suggest you get your people out to find the real culprit and get the cuffs off him right now. Your job is at stake right now.
“Don’t threaten me or I will have you in cuffs as an accomplice. Now get out of here, I need to find out where the girl is.”
“Have you never been advised of our constitution; you have violated several of his constitutional rights and by refusing to concede now you are only making things worse.”
“Wilkinson Vs Oregon State, ‘In cases where the safety and security of a child and or adult female are at risk of imminent danger or harm, some portions of the constitution can be voided for the purpose of collecting information that may be necessary to safeguard that child or adult female.”
“That constitutional challenge has not even been ruled on at the supreme court yet. It has no validity.”
“It was ruled on by the 9th circuit court of appeals and until it is struck down by the supreme court it is in force.”
“You know full well that a lower court has placed an injunction on the ruling until it has been heard in the supreme court.”
“A court in Portland overturned that injunction so the ruling stands. I am not going to argue legalities with you, I want to save the girl and he knows where she is.”
“We will see about this.” Steve Owens storms from the room and heads right to the detachment prosecutor’s office.
A very short discussion ensues and the prosecutor storms down the hall and to the interrogation room. Sergeant, I order you to release that man immediately and to get his vehicle ready to go.”
“But we haven’t found out where the girl is.”
“You have violated several of his constitutional rights and there is no way that even if he told you where she is, I could get a conviction or would even lay a charge. Your incompetence has endangered the girl and any chance we may have of getting a conviction.”
“Fine.” The sergeant roughly removes the cuffs. “You are free to go.”
Richard stands and flexes his shoulder, grimacing in obvious pain.
Steve Owens sees this and asks, “did they hurt your shoulder?”
“I had rotator cuff surgery six months ago and the arresting officer wrenched my arm around and tweaked it. It should be fine tomorrow.”
“No, I think we are going to have a look at it tonight, I would like you to go into emergency and have it looked at. Keep track of your time, save your receipts and bring me the medical report.” Looking at the prosecutor, “can you show me to your office, I need to file a complaint.”
“Richard goes down to the lower floor and his camper is parked directly in front of the building, guarded by a lower ranking municipal police officer. It is in a no parking zone but the officer does not seem to care.
As Richard is about to close the side door he hears, “f*%king constitution, protecting pedophiles and kidnapers.”
He steps out of the camper and says to the officer, “would you mind repeating that.”
“you heard me dirtbag, I hope they get you.”
With a smile, “thank you for your service officer.” Richard closes the door and slips to the front. He starts the camper up and drives out of the area. Later as he is in emergency, he calls his ex-wife, no answer. Ten minutes later, no answer. After the third call, al calls go straight to disconnect. She had blocked him.
At 11:15 he gets a phone call from his lawyer. His daughter had been found safe and sound. She had run away from home and was sleeping in a neighbor’s garage. Their dog had alerted them to an intruder and they found her, sleeping in the back of their Van.
Saturday visit was cancelled because of the police investigation so Richard went and ran the 10 k by himself. He was so upset and so angry that he tried to channel all that frustration into his run. Hammering home to the first sub 40-minute 10 k he had run since giving up his competitive career at 37 years old. He at least got satisfaction with that.
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Post by texican on Jul 26, 2019 13:04:33 GMT -6
FT, Thanks for the great chapter.... Kind of gets your heart rate up.... This is real life on the west and east coasts and up north.... Just why would anyone live in these states? When will Richard and Peter meet?.?.?.? Have visited these states but it has been decades and will not visit them again unless it is a very good lucrative reason and for only a short trip.... Did make it to North Dakota in April to do two projects and it was cold, but southern North Dakota got the snow storm which when I returned to the airport snow was still on the hills, in yards and piled in piles in parking lots.... We get snow here in SE Okieland, but it is generally gone in a couple of days and no need to drive on it.... When it snowed in Dallas, the streets were full of wrecks, but my 4x4 Super Duty diesel had no problems.... The other drivers were pissed when I went flying by covering their cars in slush.... Life is grand at times.... This is why we now live in SE Okieland after moving from Texas which has changed so much from when I was a kid due to the kalilanders and yankees and illegals moving in.... SE Okieland reminds me and the wife of what Texas was.... The wife and I were born and raised in Texas.... Texican has meaning to me as a name.... Texican is what the inhabitants called themselves until Texans started to be used.... October 1st will be 42 years of marriage.... Something must be gong right and if I knew exactly what I could probably make a small fortune writing a book about it if I had the talent of FT.... FT, another chapter would always be eagerly devoured by the Moar Hounds to see what happens nest.... Regards, Texican....
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Post by forthteller on Jul 26, 2019 18:03:28 GMT -6
FT, Thanks for the great chapter.... Kind of gets your heart rate up.... This is real life on the west and east coasts and up north.... Just why would anyone live in these states? When will Richard and Peter meet?.?.?.? Have visited these states but it has been decades and will not visit them again unless it is a very good lucrative reason and for only a short trip.... Did make it to North Dakota in April to do two projects and it was cold, but southern North Dakota got the snow storm which when I returned to the airport snow was still on the hills, in yards and piled in piles in parking lots.... We get snow here in SE Okieland, but it is generally gone in a couple of days and no need to drive on it.... When it snowed in Dallas, the streets were full of wrecks, but my 4x4 Super Duty diesel had no problems.... The other drivers were pissed when I went flying by covering their cars in slush.... Life is grand at times.... This is why we now live in SE Okieland after moving from Texas which has changed so much from when I was a kid due to the kalilanders and yankees and illegals moving in.... SE Okieland reminds me and the wife of what Texas was.... The wife and I were born and raised in Texas.... Texican has meaning to me as a name.... Texican is what the inhabitants called themselves until Texans started to be used.... October 1st will be 42 years of marriage.... Something must be gong right and if I knew exactly what I could probably make a small fortune writing a book about it if I had the talent of FT.... FT, another chapter would always be eagerly devoured by the Moar Hounds to see what happens nest.... Regards, Texican.... You already know what damage they caused, now we find out who, why and how they did it. My third character is a young productivity genius, and he will also be a compressed coil spring that explodes. Like I said, they can sissify a generation of men but testosterone is God given and can only be suppressed for so long. Watch out when it explodes. Women too can be all sugar and spice but watch out for the woman scorned. Hell hath no fury like that. We will also meet Marisa again and that is your woman scorned. On a personal note. I turn 60 in two weeks and will be retiring from construction. For my fourth career, I am going to retrain as a long haul trucker now that my kids have grown up. I will get to travel all across Canada and the USA. Cannot wait for the next adventure. Be able to write during my down time and I will have more then the northwest in my books after this because I will get to see more than just a racetrack. Regards, Forthteller
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Post by texican on Jul 26, 2019 23:19:49 GMT -6
FT, Thanks for the great chapter.... Kind of gets your heart rate up.... This is real life on the west and east coasts and up north.... Just why would anyone live in these states? When will Richard and Peter meet?.?.?.? Have visited these states but it has been decades and will not visit them again unless it is a very good lucrative reason and for only a short trip.... Did make it to North Dakota in April to do two projects and it was cold, but southern North Dakota got the snow storm which when I returned to the airport snow was still on the hills, in yards and piled in piles in parking lots.... We get snow here in SE Okieland, but it is generally gone in a couple of days and no need to drive on it.... When it snowed in Dallas, the streets were full of wrecks, but my 4x4 Super Duty diesel had no problems.... The other drivers were pissed when I went flying by covering their cars in slush.... Life is grand at times.... This is why we now live in SE Okieland after moving from Texas which has changed so much from when I was a kid due to the kalilanders and yankees and illegals moving in.... SE Okieland reminds me and the wife of what Texas was.... The wife and I were born and raised in Texas.... Texican has meaning to me as a name.... Texican is what the inhabitants called themselves until Texans started to be used.... October 1st will be 42 years of marriage.... Something must be gong right and if I knew exactly what I could probably make a small fortune writing a book about it if I had the talent of FT.... FT, another chapter would always be eagerly devoured by the Moar Hounds to see what happens nest.... Regards, Texican.... You already know what damage they caused, now we find out who, why and how they did it. My third character is a young productivity genius, and he will also be a compressed coil spring that explodes. Like I said, they can sissify a generation of men but testosterone is God given and can only be suppressed for so long. Watch out when it explodes. Women too can be all sugar and spice but watch out for the woman scorned. Hell hath no fury like that. We will also meet Marisa again and that is your woman scorned. On a personal note. I turn 60 in two weeks and will be retiring from construction. For my fourth career, I am going to retrain as a long haul trucker now that my kids have grown up. I will get to travel all across Canada and the USA. Cannot wait for the next adventure. Be able to write during my down time and I will have more then the northwest in my books after this because I will get to see more than just a racetrack. Regards, Forthteller FT, Congrats on turning 60.... You will enjoy seeing the sights in America and Canada as you haul the big rig down the roads.... Remember us poor souls that have to look at the same low mountains and forest everyday... Not to let another opportunity pass by, another chapter would be great.... Later, Texican....
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Post by forthteller on Aug 12, 2019 15:54:04 GMT -6
Chapter 17,
Richard gains and loses.
Tuesday at family court.
The look of shock on his ex wife’s face when he shows up with one of the finest family lawyers in Portland is priceless. As he favors his right arm in a shoulder sling and is dressed in a nice suit she looks even more troubled. She bends over to inquire of her own lawyer, he can see the woman explaining who his lawyer is. Worry is evident all around.
The Bailiff reads the legal claim. “The plaintiff claims Richard Saxon is teaching her children toxic, excessively competitive behavior, leading to willful and non cooperative attitudes and interfering with the peaceful balance of the life of her household. The plaintiff is requesting the visitation order be shortened to 4 hours every second Saturday and is asking for removal of joint legal custody.”
The bailiff continues to read, “The counterclaim is that by withholding more access to the children, the plaintiff is preventing them from having a more fulfilled relationship with their father. He also claims that she has violated the last agreement by having her girlfriend stay at the house, on one occasion until after 1 AM; on another, until 6 AM. In Addition, without joint consent, she has withdrawn the youngest daughter from the track team resulting in the girl running away from home prompting an amber alert. The counterclaim also alleges that her unfounded accusations resulted in him being publicly arrested, detained and injured by the police.”
Steve Owens questions Richards ex wife on the stand. “Were you the one who suggested to police that my client may have taken Clarice.”
“I guess I may have.”
“You are under oath, did you or did you not suggest that he may have taken her.”
“I may have suggested that.”
“Your honor, can you instruct the witness to answer the question, it is a simple yes or no.”
“The witness will answer the question.”
“Yes, I did, but I thought…”
“I don’t think that what you thought is of much use to my client who cannot use his right arm at the moment. You did suggest that he probably did it and you obviously used enough conviction that my client was arrested and his constitutional rights withheld because they believed he had abducted his own daughter. Are you aware of what he went through that night?”
“I am but I was afraid for my daughter who was missing.”
“Let me see if I understand, you believed your husband abducted the daughter you had a major argument with just that morning, but that he did not abduct his other two children.”
“She may have called him to come rescue her.”
“Would that be on the phone you have an app on that blocks his number.”
“She could have used a school phone or a friend’s phone.”
“So just to be clear. You have an app on all 3 phones that makes it impossible for any of your children to call or be called from their own father.”
“He can call me and talk to them when I am with them.”
“That was another yes or no question, your honor, can you ask the witness to just answer the question.”
“Never mind, I think the question has been answered. How about this one, how many times in the past 2 months have you allowed your husband to talk to his children when he has called.”
“I don’t recall.”
“Come now Ms. Cantrell. Is it 10, 8, 6, 4, how about never? never. Not once did you ever let him talk to his children in the last 2 months. Does that seem about right.”
“I pass the messages from him to them after we talk.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just hand the phone to them.” Looking at the judge, “Never mind, I withdraw the question.”
“Let’s talk about Clarice. Are you aware that she has achieved a 5k time that wold give her direct entry into the Oregon State Championships for 14 and under girls.?”
“I am, but it was affecting her grades.”
“Maintaining an extremely high level of fitness, successfully competing 2 years above her age group, or is it that she is solid B level across the board in all her classes. I would be extremely disappointed too. Could you tell me how training before school and at lunch is affecting her grades?”
“It is her attitude. The excessive competition is causing her attitude to be hard to deal with. She thinks she is better than everyone else and she has to argue with me over everything.”
“Your honor, I have two peer reviewed studies here that prove otherwise. They both support the theory that organized competition not only helps develop sportsmanship and competitive skills but that teamwork and cooperation are also by-products of competition. I would like to enter them into evidence. These studies show that highly competitive students are more likely to become highly successful adults in whatever field they choose. Is it possible that your daughter has critical thinking skills, unrelated to her athletic endeavors and that you are doing this as a control mechanism?”
“Absolutely not. I am the custodial parent and it is my judgement that her excessive competitiveness is fuelling the argumentative behavior.”
Other witnesses take the stand, including the woman Richard had seen leaving the house that night. She describes what she has seen of Clarise’s rigorous training schedule and how every time she is visiting the household, Clarise has no time for anything or anyone.
On cross examination, Richards lawyer questions the woman, Jamie Haldon. “Could you tell me what your relationship to Ms. Cantrell is?”
“We are friends, co workers and we have fitness classes together.”
“Nothing more?”
“I don’t understand, what are you asking.”
“Romantic interest. Do you have a romantic relationship with the defendant?”
The Cantrell lawyer jumps up, “I object your honor, Mr. Owens is suggesting a relationship that has no bearing in this case.”
“Your honor, the witness’s relationship has everything to do with this case. We have evidence that she spends nights in the family home and that her relationship is much more than just a friend. In fact, the nature of her relationship would indicate bias and her stay over night violates the custody agreement ordered by this very court.”
The Cantrell lawyer jumps up, “Your honor, the custody agreement only specifies men are not allowed to spend nights. Having a woman spend the night does not violate the terms.”
“The witness will answer the question.”
Three hours later the Judge declines to allow the children to take the stand. Richard’ lawyer reminds the judge that the oldest will soon be 14 and will be in a position to demand a hearing and her say.
The judge responds, “if she wants to speak to the court, that is her right. For now, I have everything I need to make a decision.”
Two weeks later, the courts judgment is official. Richards ex wife has breached two of the conditions of the previous agreement and those breaches have been taken into consideration in the currant order. Richard receives full joint custody of the children in decision making and as soon as he has suitable lodgings, he will get every other weekend, including nights with the children and 2 weeks in the summer, either fall or spring break and every second Christmas. After looking at the finances of both parties, his child support was cut drastically and alimony was eliminated entirely.
Life is looking up for Richard, he is starting to make headway in his finances. Clarise, who is now 13, is competing at state events and his son has become a top boarder in Portland. The race season is over for the most part but he still takes the three every other weekend and they travel all over the state during their time together.
The new woman in their mother’s life is Charlene and the kids hate her. She is a high school teacher and is always correcting them.
Three months later, their first Christmas together in years, is exceptional. Richard was a regular at a nice Air BNB upper floor of a suburban house in Portland and was a priority user. He was saving money now and was still living in his motorhome, now parked in the parking lot of his employers accounting firm. He was soon to become a junior partner and everything was looking great.
Clarice had finished 5th in the state championships so she was hopeful that next year she would make the state team and go to nationals. Peter was progressing well in his boarding events and Chloe was excelling in her school programs and was already getting scholarship proposals.
The riots downtown had not quelled since the Trump re election and once again, the Democrats refused to accept the latest election results. Calls for impeachment are already sounding but they will fall on deaf ears in the republican controlled house and senate. Division in the USA has hit an all time high, the presidents inauguration will be tumultuous.
Needing to get groceries, Richard looks at his gun shelf and decides not to go armed. A short walk around the corner and down the street. One block north to the plaza. He knows there are two guards outside the front so he should be okay. On the news, the protest seems quiet today. Antifa is across the street on southeast Grand. The smaller group of Proud boys on the East side. More at several locations downtown. No sign of police. The Democrat mayor has ordered them to keep their distance.
Richard walks across Sherman street at 7th. Interestingly, there are a few masked antifa across the street. He walks briskly along the east side of seventh to the plaza. Hardly any traffic and not a single pedestrian. Parking lot is full however. Into the store Richard goes.
After selecting his purchases, Richard heads over to the checkout. He pays and heads out the front. Both guards look frightened and are at full alert. Armed and looking poorly trained, Richard is hoping they would not be tested. Outside he heads, the antifa across the street are gone. Richards old military training sends alerts. It is not what you can see, it is what you cannot see that is the problem.
Richard makes a quick call on his cell, letting his daughter, Chloe know where he is now. “I am on my way home now. I am going to head down Sherman from seventh, it was clear when I came. I doubt anything will happen but if I am not back in half an hour, call 911.”
“What is the matter dad?”
“Nothing, I think, but just in case.”
Vigilantly, Richard heads south, turning left he walks purposely east on Sherman. Once a block east, he sprints across the street. At an abandoned manufacturing facility, he sees the masked antifa protestors. Only three now. Where are the rest. Picking up the pace, he passes the three obviously young females. They giggle as he passes and without looking, he feels as they turn and follow him. Now he is worried. He has two cloth bags full of reasonably heavy groceries but nothing else to use to defend himself.
Continuing to walk briskly, Richard looks for escape routes. He knows that he can outrun the girls but there were six when he went in. Plus, they may have weapons, firearms or worse. Nobody on the street, a few cars pass at over 30 mph and even if there was a problem going on, nobody would stop. Richard contemplates dropping the groceries and running, this was stupid.
Too late, 2 of the other three step out in front and are determined to stop him. One is a heavy-set young man with no mask, the other is a slight person who may have been either gender. His phone was already on 911 and he dials without looking. A dispatcher comes on, he recites the street intersection and says, being attacked by antifa.
One of the girls behind him knocks the phone from his hand and another quickly grabs it. He is now surrounded and they are all about 4 feet from him. The girl who grabbed the phone pulls her bandana down and tries to look at it. “Password?”
“Nope.”
“Password and give us the groceries.”
Handing over the groceries and saying, “it doesn’t have a password, it is fingerprint activated.” Richard is really regretting his foolishness.
“Grab him.”
The girls behind him grab him, Richard calculates his odds. As they wrest his hand to use his finger, he struggles. The heavy-set man in front hits him square in the gut with the butt end of a baseball bat. Richard had not seen it but it was obvious he had it secreted it beneath his black trench coat. Richard crumples to the ground.
One of the girls wrench his arm sideways and places it on the phone. Once it is opens, she says in a very childish voice, “finish him off”. The heavy-set man strikes him with the bat, blackness begins to overcome him and he remembers where he has seen the female leader before, she is a new cashier at the grocery store he was just in. He had spoken to her several times before and she was friendly with Chloe.
Several more blows from the bat, the girls kick and punch him. Names are spewed. Richard does not respond.
At home, Chloe and Clarice are really worried. They decide that dad has been a little too long so even before the half hour is up, they open the gun cabinet and remove 2 handguns. Concealing the weapons, both head out the door.
Hurrying west on Sherman the girls can see several people standing around a person on the ground. Girls, one Chloe recognizes. They are going through the bodies pockets and it looks like they have just taken his wallet. Chloe and Clarise approach and start yelling. The girls at the body stand, look the girl’s way and tell them to “f#$k off or your next.”
Clarise pulls her Glock from her back waistband and points it at the girls. Chloe does the same. Both make an audible click when they disengage the safeties. “Get away from him and get to the ground.” Shouts Chloe.
The heavy-set man starts to slowly walks towards Chloe. “What ya gonna do little girl. You don’t even know how to hold that thing properly.”
As he gets closer Chloe shouts, “that’s far enough”.
He keeps approaching.
Chloe puts one foot a little behind her for support and expertly fires a warning shot.
He stops. Another crack. Chloe falls to the ground, shot in the shoulder from the left. Clarise already had her firearm out by the first shot and she quickly identified the source of it. A young man with an AR beside the building. Two rapid shots and down he goes. She spins as the heavy-set man was rapidly advancing and fires off two more shots. Down he goes. The remaining individuals scramble in different directions. Clarise lets them go as she is torn between tending to her sister or her father. Bending at Chloe she attempts to cover the wound to stop the bleeding. Tears stream down her face as she has to look away from her prone father.
Sirens sound. Police arrive. An officer takes the pulse of the heavy-set man and shakes his head. He walks over to Richard and takes his pulse. Again, shaking his head to the other arriving officers. Another officer has already checked the first shooter and is also shaking his head. A woman officer joins Clarice with first aid on Chloe but it is to no avail. The light in her eyes and the fire in her heart was dimming. She had to be bleeding internally.
An eternity later an ambulance arrives. In the crowd, Clarise can see the girl from the grocery store, they lock eyes. Tears are replaced by hardness. In that moment a decision is made, destiny makes its call.
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Post by texican on Aug 12, 2019 17:20:05 GMT -6
Not taking your fireaem has resulted in severe consequences....
Thanks FT for the chapter....
Texican....
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Post by forthteller on Aug 12, 2019 20:00:49 GMT -6
Not taking your fireaem has resulted in severe consequences.... Thanks FT for the chapter.... Texican.... Better to have a gun and not need it that to need a gun and not have it. Thanks for reading Forthteller.
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Post by texican on Aug 12, 2019 20:51:14 GMT -6
Not taking your fireaem has resulted in severe consequences.... Thanks FT for the chapter.... Texican.... Better to have a gun and not need it that to need a gun and not have it. Thanks for reading Forthteller. Our pleasure FT.... Texican....
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Post by gipsy on Aug 12, 2019 21:14:04 GMT -6
Hell hath no fury
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Post by NCWEBNUT on Aug 13, 2019 14:57:36 GMT -6
Wow that went a way I wasn't expecting
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Post by kaijafon on Aug 14, 2019 19:37:36 GMT -6
oh crap! I didn't expect him to die or Chloe.
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Post by forthteller on Aug 14, 2019 23:44:50 GMT -6
Chapter 18
Stewart
May 2020 Washington DC Stewart Preston climbs down the scaffolding and retrieves his bucket of tools at the bottom of the hoist. The rain has slowed to a drizzle but he quickly gets his tools over to his old truck so they don’t get wet. Once into the truck, he locks the tool box and heads into the project office for the daily debrief.
None of the other workers do this but stewart thinks it is important and so does his site supervisor but he does not have the ability to force the other lead hands. “Hey john, we got three windows on the 5th floor complete today and have 3 others prepped for installation as soon as they get hoisted up tomorrow. Jack and Amanda have the rainscreen complete all the way to the far end of the west wall as well. I expect we will have the whole 5th floor done by Friday. Here are our hours for the day.”
Standing and marking the window and wall as complete on a chart behind him he sits back down. “Great Stewart, Mark wants to see you at head office tomorrow at 9:00 AM. Can your crew do the work you are doing without you?”
“Certainly, Max knows what is going on so he can take care of it. I likely won’t be at the office long though. Any idea what Mark wants?”
“I don’t know for sure but we just landed a big job out in Arlington.”
“Ok. I am out of here, gotta get home before my wife starts getting worried.”
“Worried. What about you getting hurt or something?”
“No, she and her friends all think I have a girlfriend on the side or something. If she doesn’t know where I am at all the time, she gets suspicious.”
“Come on Stewart, with a face like yours, you were lucky to find one, let alone another one to cheat with.”
“You aren’t exactly the catch of the week either, butthead. Actually, it is because a lot of the people in her office cheat so she expects it everywhere. Gotta go.”
As he closes the door, Max watches him cross to the beat-up truck he drives. “I am gonna miss him”, he thinks, expecting that Stewart is going to be offered the site super job in Arlington.
At only 25 years old, Stewart is already a Journeyman red seal carpenter from Canada and has heavy equipment certification as well as first aid. In addition, he is most of the way through the gold seal site supervisor program. The fact that he dropped out of school at age 16 had nothing to do with his intelligence, it had everything to do with the necessity of supporting his sister because his mother had left them years before and his father was killed by an impaired driver.
That sister, now 21 and attending Stanford University has vowed to pay him back some day. The fact that he has only seen her once since she joined a sorority makes that unlikely. The one time she contacted him was to get more money for unforeseen expenses that were not covered by her scholarships and bursaries. He had said no and told her that she can get student loans or a part time job; her response, storm out of the restaurant in a huff. A year later and she has not answered or returned his calls since.
Stewart parks his truck on the street. Checking the locks on his Greenlee and putting the steering lock on his wheel he feels reasonably confident it won’t be pillaged over night. The house he owns with his wife has a two-car garage out back but his wife’s BMW X5E is in it and the rest of the space is too tight to put a second large vehicle in. At least that’s the argument his wife uses. In reality, two full sized trucks would fit but it would take some decent driving and you would have to be careful to not hit the other vehicle with the door. Not an argument Stewart wanted to engage in so he had sold his newish Ram 2500 and bought a 1997 ram 1500 that looked pretty beat. In the back he had bolted a greenlee lock box and kept his $15,000 plus worth of tools in there. With a good steering lock, Stewart is confident it would still be there in the morning.
Entering the house, Stewart hangs his keys on the hook, takes his work boots off and walks to the rear mud room where he puts his work clothes and boots, no noise. “I wonder where Cheryl is,” he thinks. He walks around the house but she is not home yet so he heads into the kitchen to fix something for dinner. By six he has two portions of Pasta ready and puts a lid over one. He sits and eats the other while he wonders where Cheryl is. Checking his messages and texts, nothing.
He dials her number and waits, three rings and she picks up breathlessly. “Hi hon, I am at the gym with Sarah. Going to be a little late getting home, we didn’t get out of the office until 5 today.”
“Ok. I made you some dinner, it is under a warming lid on the counter. I wish you had of called me, I could have stopped at the range for some practice on the way home. I will see you when you get here.”
“You don’t have to get all snarky, you know I go to the gym after work every other day.” With that Cheryl hangs up.
Next morning, Stewart parks in the visitor spot in the company parkade. With over 300 tools-on employees and 30 administrative staff, Slocan builders was one of the larger construction companies in the district. Stewart is one of the few ticketed red seal carpenters and he was working predominantly on the low-rise wood framed building division. His immediate boss was john who worked for the project manager, Mason Rodgers. That is who he thought he was going to see.
Exiting the truck, he heads over to the elevator and pushes the call button. Once inside he selects the 12th floor. The elevator doors silently close and it rises quickly. The doors open to a modern reception area with several reception desks, one for each division. He heads over to the receptionist for Mason Rodgers and introduces himself.
Looking very surprised, the pretty young receptionist blushes and says, “I didn’t realize you were so young” and thinking but not saying, “so cute.”
Taken aback, “I am older than I look, Is Mr. Rodgers ready to see me, I was told to be here at 9:00.”
I am sorry sir but you are not booked to see Mr. Rodgers, you are here for an appointment with Pascal Martinez.
“One of the owners? Why?”
“I haven’t been told but he is expecting you in the boardroom. Very nice to meet you, rooms right over there,” she points at a large solid oak double door, “you can go in right away. I will be in with a coffee for you shortly, how do you take it?”
Incredulous, “just black, no sugar. Thank you.”
With a wide smile, “no problem Stewart, my name is Rachel.”
Stewart strides to the door she pointed out and he cautiously opens it enough to see inside, several men and an older woman are in the room.
Pascal notices him and waves him in. “Come on in son, we have a few people here who want to meet you.”
Stewart enters, allows the door to close behind him and walks over to Pascal and extends his hand. “Pleased to meet you sir, I am Stewart Preston.”
“Taking his hand and vigorously shaking it, “call me Pascal, grab a seat. Muriel has a small presentation to make.”
Muriel was the comptroller of the company and was notorious for pinching every penny. The butt of many jokes on the sites, she was nonetheless well respected for her fairness and excellent fiscal management of the company.
Pascal introduces him to the project manager for the high-rise division, Hector Martinez and the restoration division Project Manager, Justin Winston. Finally, he introduces him to Muriel Spence-Marks.
They all exchange handshakes and Muriel waves them all to take seats. She then opens a laptop and with a few keystrokes, a screen descends from the ceiling and some charts are on them. “Alrighty. What I am going to show you, gentlemen, is that we are going to need to sharpen our pencils. A lot if we want to stay competitive. Our young friend here, has already set the standard we need to be putting into action across the board.”
Rachel raps on the door, pushes it open with her foot and enters with a tray of coffee and doughnuts. Putting it on the table between Hector and Muriel she takes one and hands it to Stewart. “This one is black, no sugar.” With a nod to the group, she turns and leaves the room, making sure the door closes behind her.
Once she leaves, Muriel starts, “the graph on the left shows our project revenues by the month for the last 5 years. We are easily keeping pace with inflation. With the increases we have instituted, our competition has followed suit so we have not lost any competitive edge. The middle graph shows the hours spent and our wages which is also keeping pace with our revenues. No problems there although I do want to see a bit more productivity at some of our sites. My concern is with the third graph, our materials costs are up over 3 times the rate of inflation due to carbon taxes and other costs that we have no control over.”
She stops and waits for everyone to take this in. “At the rate we are going, profits are shrinking to the point we will not be earning enough to sustain the growth we need to see. Suggestions?”
“We could raise prices across the board because our competition has to pay the same prices.” Responds Pascal.
“We could but some of the bigger firms have decided that as we have a declining number of new sales due to the market slowdown, they are going to use cutthroat pricing to maintain market share. We will not be competitive unless we trim costs and maintain our currant prices. Wages can be frozen but I am disinclined to do that, our workers deserve to be paid well so we can keep the best,” she says as she looks at Stewart who makes well over 90k a year.
Muriel looks around the room and as no other suggestions seems to be coming forward, looks straight at Stewart and says, “our young friend knows the answer.”
“Excuse me mam, I am only a site lead hand, I don’t have anything to do with expenses.”
“Oh, but you do. The site you are on has less than 3% materials waste and is on par for employee productivity. I have tracked the last three sites you were on and they all shared the same anomaly. Industry standard is 10 percent for waste, our company is around 7 percent with some of the policies we have put in place yet every site you are on, the waste is less than half that.”
Muriel continues on. “I talked with John and he takes no credit for it. He says that Marcel, the site supervisor on your previous site had you in charge of materials and recycling so he decided to put you on that at his site when you got transferred in. He says that he does all the ordering still but that you advise him and make sure the workers use everything as efficiently as possible. If we can get the entire company to 3 percent, we will have a major advantage over the competition and if we can get to 2 percent, we will be able to get LEEDS designation and then we will become the company of choice.”
“I see. I consider myself a practical environmentalist and I believe that the first two R’s, reduce and reuse are not stressed enough so I kind of preach that on a regular basis. Some of my crew get it and others don’t. I find that if I teach the new people, they catch on faster and are more inclined to conserve materials and not waste as much.”
Hector clears his throat, “Stewart, you are here because the numbers speak for themselves. Just like safety increases productivity and reduces costs, environmentalism as you practice it also reduces costs. We have already seen the graphs but this is the first time we have all met over them. What we are looking for is a person to institute a leads program for the company with a two-pronged goal. Reduce waste companywide to 2 percent and get us leads gold designation. We think you are the person.”
Justin Wilson pipes in. “I read his resume, I thought he must be older. How do we get anyone to take him seriously, he looks like a kid?”
Pascal responds. “Look at the dates on the resume, and I can assure you we have verified it. He started as a laborer on a construction site in Burnaby in 2012 and became an apprentice in 2013. His trade school records are all here including his heavy equipment training. He came to the US during the largest skills shortage ever on a green card and he has been with us for almost 4 years. He was a red seal before he joined our firm. Does it really matter that he looks young?”
Justin continues the argument, “It does, most of the people he will be dealing with are old school tradesmen, they won’t take kindly to having someone 20 years their junior telling them how to do their jobs.”
Muriel, the oldest person in the room says, “would one of those old school people be you, Justin?”
With a slight stuttering, “I just mean that he cannot have enough experience to do the job.”
Muriel holds up Stewarts credentials. “Looks to me he has more experience than almost all of us in this room and the numbers dispute anything you might feel.”
Stewart interjects, “Can we all stop for a moment, you are arguing about me and I am sitting right here. Nobody has even asked me if I want to do this job.”
Silence. They all look at one another and then Pascal looks right at Stewart and says, “are you interested?”
“It depends. I like carpentry, I don’t want to be off the tools. I was already offered a site supervisor position and I turned it down. People cannot be trained from an office; they have to be trained by working alongside them.”
Pascal looks around. “So how would you envision it?”
“I work with Justin on the administration and only advise. He puts me with crews for a couple of months and I work with them to institute policies we have put into place and when we find lead hands that get the big picture they get moved to sites where they can share the knowledge.”
Perplexed, Muriel looks at Stewart, “Justin? Why him?”
“Because he is old school, because he started on the tools, because he is credentialed, because he has the respect of all our site supervisors and carpenters and because he reminds me of my father.”
“Your father?”
“My dad was an old school heavy equipment operator. He had me operating equipment when I was 10 years old, by the time he died I had already been operating everything up to a D9 and a Cat 352F excavator. My world ended when father was killed by a high driver when I was 15 but he had taught me how to pick myself up and carry on. I quit school and got a job when I turned 16 so I could take care of my little sister who was in foster care, that is why I started working so young.”
Justin, holding the resume says, “says here you are certified to operate excavators, dozers, skid steers and graders, how did you get the certification?”
“I didn’t actually go to school for heavy equipment, I tested out on the equipment at the school and they agreed to let me take all the written exams. After that, the apprenticeship board tested me on several pieces, looked at the hour logs my dad had written up and they certified me just after I turned 19. I did the full carpentry apprenticeship and all the schooling, wrote my interprovincial and passed on the first attempt but the Gold seal superintendent courses are a lot harder. My writing skills are a little poor so I don’t read and write reports well.”
Muriel pipes in again. “So, Justin, would you be willing to work with our young upstart to help us into the next phase of our company development.”
“You mean, let the kid do the job and me be the face of it. As long as I get all the credit, count me in.” Winking at Stewart he looks back at Muriel. “How do we do this?”
“I think that is up to you two. You may want to put him in an office up here and let him work from here. He will also need a company truck.”
“Hold it. Making decisions for me without asking me again. I don’t need a truck, I use mine, it is part of the message, reuse. I expect to get paid mileage though. Secondly, I don’t need nor want an office, don’t want the other carpenters to think I am different. We can use laptops and short meetings in Justin’s office.”
“Ok, I think this is worth the effort. I for one would like to see less materials going to the landfill, especially if we have to pay for it.” Remarks Hector.
Muriel looks at the assembled group and says. “I guess that’s it. We will assist you in any way we can. I need you to come with me to my office after we are done here so we can put you on a bonus plan. We have all agreed that if we are successful in our plans, you should share in the savings as well. Since I negotiate and administer all the benefit plans, I will take it from here.”
Later that evening, Stewart and Sarah are having dinner in their older 2 story Kerrisdale home. Stewart tells Cheryl that he got a promotion today.
Her response, “to site Supervisor?”
“No, I am the new company Leeds Champion and I am going to work companywide to reduce materials waste and garbage.”
“Leeds Champion. What is that?”
“I will be responsible to institute and administer policies that will insure we meet targets for reducing, reusing and recycling everything we use to build our projects and to reuse or recycle everything we demo from existing structures. Our goal is to hit the Gold standard in every project and the platinum standard in selected new builds.”
“Cool. Do you get an office and company truck?”
“They offered, turned them down.”
“Why?”
“We would have to pay income tax on the value of the Truck and I already have one. Plus, I will be encouraging reuse, the truck is an example of that. The office is just a waste. I expect to be on the site, tools on, setting the standard and training those who are willing to learn.”
“Do you at least get a raise?”
“a small one. I already make the most of every carpenter in the company. If I want more, I have to become a site supervisor and I don’t want to do that.”
“So, more responsibility but no more money, no benefits and no office. Seems like you just signed on for more work but no money, how does that help us?”
“I get to do what I always wanted, make a concrete change in saving our environment. Plus, they have put me on a pretty good bonus plan. I will make more money every quarter if I hit my targets.”
“Sounds like a bullshit male excuse for getting more work out of you and giving you nothing for it. You got taken.”
“For starters, I never got taken, I set the targets and I negotiated the rewards for hitting those targets. Secondly, the comptroller is a woman named Muriel so it is hardly a manly bullshit excuse.”
“Well, we can’t go to the bank and get a line of credit with your promise of bonuses.”
“Line of credit, what for.”
“Don’t you remember, when we bought the house, we agreed that we were going to renovate and modernize it. The bathrooms and kitchen are disgraceful, I am ashamed to bring my friends here. The floor creaks everywhere, the carpet is god awful from the last millennium and the paint is the worst.”
“We agreed to renovate when we could afford to from our savings, not from the equity of the house.”
“Well, I don’t want to wait that long. We gained a lot in our equity from 2017 to 2018 and it only slipped a bit since then, I think it is time.”
“Its not time, we just bought an X5E for almost 100k, your cards are both maxed out, your student loans are over 400 a month and we are now paying the top up for your mothers retirement home. We barely make it with what we make and the bills we pay.”
“Then you should have asked for more money, they would have given it too you.”
“We need to live within our means. We cannot afford any more debt. Interest rates are on the rise and we have to renegotiate our mortgage in the next 6 months. We are going to take a big hit there.”
“Why don’t we sell and get a new townhouse?”
“If we sell and pay out our mortgage, pay the property transfer taxes, real estate fees, moving expenses and other related expenses, I doubt we come out ahead. The house is barely worth what we paid for it so any equity is minimal. If we wanted a better house for less money we would have to move out of DC and out into the valley. I would be willing to do that.”
“I wouldn’t, my work is here, my friends are here and I like it here. I would like to live in a condo.”
“We are lucky we didn’t buy a condo in 17. It would be worth less than we paid for it now. So many people moved out of the city and vacated, plus we overbuilt and now there are thousands of vacant condos but nobody can afford to buy or rent them.”
“I don’t care, I hate living in this antique, I want it upgraded.”
“When I get my first bonus check, we will see what we can do with it. Maybe one of the bathrooms or some new granite countertops. If I do the work, we can save a lot of money.”
“Fine, I don’t want to talk about it, lets talk about something else,” she says as she texts furiously on her I phone.”
“I have class tonight so I gotta go. I will be back at 10. Are you going to be up?”
“I am going to go out with Liz, listen to some music, hang out. Just us girls.”
“ok, I will see you when you get home.”
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Post by NCWEBNUT on Aug 15, 2019 1:17:48 GMT -6
I see a cheater female in the making
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Post by gipsy on Aug 15, 2019 13:15:42 GMT -6
I see a cheater female in the making Sure has the signs.
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