Imperfect Decisions

CHAPTER 1

How Did I Get Here?

I SAT ON THE WROUGHT iron bench oblivious to my surroundings; unaffected by passersby, the beautiful gardens and most notably the unusually cold weather. Racing through my mind were the series of events that had brought me to this day. Years of individual entries in my journal, each one no more important that the last. Separately, they meant very little, but in total they chronicled the details of a life. The life of a girl becoming a woman, that became a friend. I frankly had become addicted to the quest for information about the life of a girl, a student I once mentored. I had become dangerously obsessed; entrapped in a web of my own need to be attached to her. My obsession had grown from interested bystander to recorder, and finally confidant. I felt that through my tireless work; I was documenting a special life. Whether that was true or not was irrelevant. Instead, I had compiled a voluminous record of facts; dates, times and most importantly thoughts. Today that body of work was now simply titled Evidence.

Over the years I had documented in great detail, the thought process and actions of a woman that through her many trials and tribulations of life had always somehow landed on her feet. Maybe some people had been wronged in the process, but the situations she had been involved in were complicated and life altering. For certain everything about her journey, including the sordid results had gone well beyond the plans and expectations of this troubled woman. The participants were important people with serious business, and her actions carried very dire consequences. Now as the respective camps argued their positions in court, my actions had somehow become one of the main characters in determining how this long saga would end. How did I get here? Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning.

The Town of Perfect

Tucked away in the old Western Reserve is the small town of Perfect. A reasonable facsimile of a New England hamlet, Perfect had been carefully nurtured like an only child. Its present was based on a carefully considered direction and hard learned lessons of the past. Its future was simply a natural progression. A model of planning, concentrated on a singular pervasive concept. Perfect was more than a place to live, it was a state of mind.

A bucolic setting surrounded by modern civilization; placed equally between two major cities. Though accessible by several major highways; Perfect remained relatively isolated, insulated from the problems of the day. The town was centered by the village green; a beautifully manicured space where many of the community’s activities were held. Everything from the weekly band concerts in the summertime; to the arrival of Santa Claus during the holidays. A source of great civic pride; the green was decorated by man or nature for every holiday. Anchored on every corner by century old trees, the green also contained the town landmark; the clock tower.

Perfect was established more than one-hundred fifty years ago, and had a significant historical role in the development of the United States. There was a fair amount of industry within its limits at one time. The remnants of which have been skillfully converted into tourist sites and scenic enhancements. There is the abandoned antique train station that has been painstakingly researched and restored; authentically painted and incorporated into the all-purpose trail that follows the creek where a grist mill once stood. The path exhibits many artifacts from that era, including benches fashioned from actual grinding wheels. It also includes a green display that compares the amount of electricity generated by a paddlewheel and a solar panel. The hybrid system powers the lighting on the path.

However, Perfect was never a major industrial hub. Rather the town originated and was designed as a haven for the captains of industry; allowing the chosen few to live away from the noise, dirt and most importantly the people of the burgeoning Industrial Age. The design of the center of town reflects the gentile lifestyle of the era. The rows of small shops on the streets bordering the green followed by post civil war mansions and Victorian era homes, built close to the sidewalks on narrow brick roads remain as evidence of the lifestyle and class structure that still permeates daily life in Perfect. Although the interiors of these structures have been modified with the conveniences of modern life, the facades are maintained for the most part in their original appearance; protected by statute.

It is important to remember that even as the town grew, the founding concepts were maintained. Dedication to detail, consistency, and a high degree of planning was incorporated into each new neighborhood to maintain the original feeling of this special place.

The landscape of the town is dominated by banks, parks and restaurants, while the skyline is the domain of church steeples. Perfect was once a WASP monolith, a town where the only evidence of the presence of minorities was the restaurants that represented their culture. Recently, Catholicism has made major inroads into the community. Additionally, with the recent influx of various other minority groups, a few more changes in the landscape are possible; eventually. It’s not that the inhabitants of Perfect are resistant to change; it’s just that they eschewed the concept of change for the sake of change. The town neither advertised their existence nor barred their gates. They simply lived their lives such that only the right kind of people wished to join them.

The sense of community is very strong in Perfect. Community and church functions are well attended; while school pride is strong, and charities flourish. Crime is minimal and disturbances are rare. To the outsider, it was as though Perfect was under a giant rose colored dome; protected from war, recession, severe weather and any other natural or man-made calamity, that adversely affected everywhere else in the region. It was jokingly rumored that in Perfect rain and snow only fell on lawns and shrubs; while trees were expertly hand painted in the fall.

It’s not that these blessings were taken for granted, as their detractors would claim. It was that the residents of Perfect expected these things to happen. In fact, everything in the town was based on an unwavering set of standards. You were expected to stay married, not have children out of wedlock, conduct yourself appropriately, attend all the civic and church functions, have a productive career and maintain a wonderful, nurturing household. If everyone lived by these simple unspoken rules, then life would live up to the town’s name.

CHAPTER 2

Deirdre’s High School Years

THE SENIOR YEAR OF DEIRDRE Matheson was a year-long celebration of a young life well planned and executed. Deirdre had accomplished all of the goals and expectations of both of her parents and of lesser importance herself. She was aware of the hierarchy of expectations, but being a life-long resident of Perfect, this situation seemed normal. She was a typically, active and well liked teenager with a bright future and enviable present.

Born the eldest daughter of Michael and Claudette; Deirdre embodied everything that was right about the philosophy of Perfect. An affable, confident and lovely young lady, she had captured the hearts and minds of her teachers along with more than half of the student body. She was a gifted athlete, possessing a muscularly agile frame that leant itself well to both her cheerleading and field hockey uniforms, while also doing yeoman’s duty in heels and skirts. She was a natural leader; having been elected captain of both squads. She flowed seamlessly between groups of her peers without the slightest bit of animosity. She was seemingly unaffected by fame, unlike her boyfriend, the captain and quarterback of the State Champion football team. But that’s a story for another day.

Her parents both owned small businesses in Perfect, Michael an accounting firm and Claudette a ladies’ designer clothing shop. The family was well entrenched in the civic fiber of the village. Deirdre was raised Catholic at her mother’s insistence, a desire that could be traced to her Creole ancestry. Michael was Lutheran, but he didn’t protest because Deirdre accommodated them both by being active in the youth groups and charitable ministries of both churches.

Upon first glance Deirdre didn’t resemble either of parents. Her younger siblings resembled the parent of their respective sexes. But Deirdre was an alluring blend of the two. Her mother was a striking raven-haired beauty of medium height, possessing a good figure even before factoring in her age and three children. Michael was just over six feet, blondish-brown, green-eyed and of average build. He was good-looking in an undistinguished sort of way.

Together they produced a young lady with thick dark brown shoulder length hair and flawless skin that was perpetually tanned, due to her year round outdoor activities. She was lovely in a girl next door fashion that made it easy for her to transition between sports and more formal occasions. Physically, she had shall we say bigger pom-poms than the rest of the cheerleading squad, and certainly a little more butt than her field hockey uniform could modestly contain, but she never let her curvature affect her athleticism. However, her frame rarely went unnoticed by others. Additional traits that she received from both parents were intelligence and the uncanny ability to quickly assess anyone’s needs or action button.

This information was used to motivate, persuade and cajole people to her point of view or cause. This was amazingly done with their knowledge. Of course, they thought that had come up with a magnificent idea and she let them. People liked having her around; she made them feel smarter.

Like many of her classmates Deirdre’s senior year was a mere formality, a cake walk. Having sufficient credits to graduate at the beginning of the year, her final year afforded her the opportunity to explore some of her interests, which is how I came to meet her. Deirdre and her parents had after careful consideration of all of her college options chosen Staunton College on a full academic scholarship. Her mother liked the choice because of exposure to the Arts that the school and the area afforded her, not to mention the benefit of meeting the right kind of people. Michael always the practical one, gave his approval because of her choice in career path of pre-law or international business. Both parents agreed that Deirdre’s love and mastery of foreign languages would serve her well in her pursuits, and that her skills would blossom at this institution. Deirdre’s decision was much more personal. She was confident that she would succeed at any college she chose; she was after all co-valedictorian in one of the most challenging high school curriculums in the country. All of the top colleges wanted her. Her top three priorities were her boyfriend Matt Dougherty, playing field hockey, and studying theatre, but not necessarily in that order. Matt was conveniently, albeit secretly going to Harvard to study and play football, eschewing much bigger football programs in the process because he was a legacy. Without each other’s knowledge Michael, Claudette and Matt all were pleased with Deirdre’s decision, because Staunton was an all-woman college.

Deirdre came to my deserted classroom one day after school on her way to cheerleading practice. She had come to express her interest in my newly formed Drama Club. Mr. Hastings, I understand that you’re having difficulty recruiting a cast for the fall production she said with the ring of a question, pretending that the situation was not common knowledge. She continued boldly, I was thinking that I would be perfect for a substantial role in whatever production you had planned. That being the case, I would be very motivated to work hard to provide sufficient numbers of recruits for both acting and support staff. The offer rolled off of her tongue without the slightest bit of shame of its high handed tone.

Is that so? I said as though I wasn’t aware of my needs. In fact, I thought she probably would be perfect for a leading role. She was attractive, popular and hard working. She was working her magic again. She knew my weak point and was exploiting it. I was a first year literature teacher and aspiring drama coach. I had a good pedigree having graduated from an Ivy League school. My teaching experience in graduate school at Brown had sealed my career choice, but my passion was still the theatre. Acting in off-off Broadway productions and even directing Youth Summer Stock only fueled my passion for the craft. This position was (excuse the pun) a perfect blend of my intellectual and artistic interests. Unfortunately, there was a major stumbling block to my success. I was also openly gay in a town that always did the right thing. So I was tolerated. Until this moment; neither student or faculty personnel, nor member of the community had done anything out of their way to make me feel welcome.

Call me Rodger, I said as I extended my hand in agreement. From that moment forward Deirdre was instrumental in recruiting her popular girlfriends along with technical and backstage helpers. Most notably, she was able to persuade her boyfriend to join using her special brand of psychology. She just planted the image of her playing the lead opposite another boy. Faced with that choice, he came up with the idea of joining.

I was awestruck by Deirdre’s work ethic. She simply willed herself to be good at this new endeavor. Her passion for the craft was contagious, as her friends had become better than I had expected. Deirdre simply laughed when I told her how pleased I was at their collective progress. Students at Perfect are naturals for the stage. She continued, with a sudden sadness in her eyes. We’ve pretended to be happy doing what our parents planned for us to do all of our lives. I nodded in agreement, but I wasn’t sure she understood why.

Deirdre’s talents were only matched by her kindness and compassion. In addition to helping others learn their lines, she took similar interest in the less popular personalities of the art and backstage crews, urging them to interact with the performing staff. However, the most heartwarming thing that I saw her do was to refuse to participate in the coin flip ceremony to determine who would give the commencement address.

She simply gave the honor to J.T. Ngyuen, a Korean immigrant that had come to America as an eighth grader. She stated, J.T. has achieved the same level of excellence that I have, except he carried the additional burden of having to learn the language and culture. He deserves the honor more than I do. Publicly, her parents accepted the praises for having raised a fine daughter who was able to determine what the right thing was, and was willing to do it. Privately, they felt betrayed by their daughter, the school and the community.

On the other hand; I grew to loathe Matt. Though he was talented as anyone in the cast, he was also arrogant, condescending and abusive. He never let an opportunity to belittle a fellow classmate go by. He was an example of the negative element that Perfect also attracted. Both students and especially parents used Perfect as a stepping stone to somewhere else. Residence in Perfect was a necessary step on the pre-destined path toward fame and fortune. Whether the goal was admission to an Ivy League school or a new position in senior management, Perfect was the ideal launching pad. They transferred in and out of town like so much furniture. They had no regard for the history and philosophy of the town. The old guard viewed them as a cancer to be eliminated if they threatened the safety of the world that they had so carefully built. Unfortunately, I also fell into that category.

After successful fall and spring productions my place in the faculty was secure. I owe most of the success to Deirdre, which is why I feel so awful having to take part in this ordeal. Having to betray her trust and divulge her private information and thoughts. Had I known that it would come to this, I would have never given her my private e-mail address and urged her to keep in touch with me. Not that I wouldn’t have followed her life anyway.

I glanced at my watch; the time of destiny was near. In just a few minutes, I would have to go into the courthouse and answer questions like. What did you know and when do you find it out? The first question however would be the toughest. When did you see a change in her personality? That is the one question that unfortunately to Deirdre’s detriment I can answer without a shred of doubt. One single, no a series of actions by the people she loved and trusted most changed the sweet girl’s personality forever.

The last senior event of the year was the camping trip, for those who were allowed to go it was bigger than the prom. The camping trip was the final rite of passage into the adult world. Steeped in tradition, the location was always kept a secret from both parents and the school administration. The latter was more than happy to be left out of the potential legal loop. Of the parents that gave their kids permission to attend the weekend festivities, there were some that knew exactly what went on and embraced the concept. Others were either misled or were resigned to the fact that there was very little; if anything they could do about it. Then there were the naïve, who thought that the trip was a great opportunity to learn about surviving in the woods. The truth was that the trip was a modern day version of a seventies love-in. There was a sprinkling of illegal substances; alcohol of course, but the main event was sex, and lots of it.

The guys provided transportation, food, alcohol and sleeping bags. The girls provided everything else. There were a fairly large percentage of monogamous couples, but most girls popped in and out of various sleeping bags like waffles from a toaster at Sunday brunch.

The trip was typically after the commencement ceremonies. It was after the Matheson’s celebratory post commencement dinner, just before Deirdre was to leave to meet Matt and her friends when Michael and Claudette chose to exact their pound of flesh. They jointly announced that they were not sanctioning Deirdre’s attendance at this year’s camping trip. They already knew that Deirdre was sexually active with Matt, so this decision had nothing to do with that. This decision was pure vengeance for the commencement speech and Deirdre knew it. In typically Perfect fashion, Deirdre responded venomously through a waterfall of tears, I will respect your wishes, but I will never forgive you!! Running from the house, she drove to meet Matt and it was there that she received the final crushing blow. Matt delivered his predictable macho and callous response, as Deirdre held on to him for both emotional and physical support. Well you’re not going to ruin my weekend he spouted, as he turned and left Deirdre alone, crying in the parking lot of the high school.

CHAPTER 3

Transition

MY HANDS WERE SWEATING AND shaking; my voice quivered as I read the words. I had read them before, of course. I was so excited that Deirdre had bothered to e-mail me this, her first letter in the first week of college. It made me feel important at the time, but now that a copy of this letter was enclosed in plastic and labeled People’s Exhibit 1; I regretted ever receiving it. I read aloud.

It had been a hot and quiet summer; absent from the rigors of the schedule of high school. I spent my time training. The daily running, weights and agility drills kept me in perfect physical condition. My regimen also kept me away from my high school friends. It seemed that all of the seniors had immediately begun the next chapter of their lives after the camping trip. There were a few of the high school relationships that survived the ordeal. Cindy and Frank along with Meagan and Mark were all attending the same college. The possibility of long distance relationship break-ups had torpedoed several couples. They just ended before they ultimately would have. Everyone was trying to be more mature; preparing themselves emotionally for college. The legacy of past Perfect graduates was a sad, but accurate fact that they easily excelled in academics, just like in high school. However, it was the social aspect of going away to college that was particularly tough on Perfect co-eds. They had grown up with everything made easy for them. Their parents had smoothed out their path in front of them, freeing them to concentrate on their schoolwork and social networking. However, the social pressure of dealing with students unlike them usually had negative consequences.

I only received two phone calls from Matt all summer. The first was immediately after his return from the camping trip. He made a pitiful attempt to apologize for his actions on commencement night; citing almost every typically weak male excuse. He went on for almost fifteen minutes; weaving lies with feigned regret. I politely, yet cruelly let him finish; giving him the false impression that I was listening and buying in to his ridiculous story. When he finally stopped to catch his breath, I spoke in a condescending, yet pleasant voice. I wished him well in his upcoming college football career. I added that If he got a chance to start a game in his freshman year, that he should invite me to come and see him play. His silence verified that my comments were a direct hit. He was torn between my perceived lack of anger and the fact that I had basically said that we wouldn’t be seeing each other in college; unless it was a special occasion.

The irony in that statement was that our respective schools were closer together in Boston than our houses were in Perfect. I hung up while he was still stunned. The reality was that I still loved him. His betrayal was the most hurtful thing anyone had ever done to me.

He actually believed that either I would forgive him for cheating on me with my best friend, Sally Baker or worse that I didn’t know. The fact was that as soon as the zipper closed on his sleeping bag, and the legs of that slut Sally opened, my real friends called or beeped me.

The second call was about two weeks later; I guess it was when he figured out that I did know about Sally and the trip. I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure that I would be able to contain my feelings. Amazingly, the call came on the same day that I ran into Sally while I was working out. It was on the secret off-road type running trail that only the cross-country team and a few of us on the field hockey team knew about. It was a rugged, actually dangerous trail that snaked through a thirty-eight acre parcel of land that the city council had purchased under the guise of building another park. Opinions differed among the residents as to what the final plans would be. Some thought it would include a skate park for the kids; others believed tennis courts and a playground; while a small contingent wanted a nine-hole golf course and a fishing lake, but I knew that they were never going to build anything. It was actually purchased by the city to keep developers from getting the land.

Sally acted casually, when I caught her from behind. She behaved as though nothing had happened between us. She spoke about how we would probably compete against each other in exhibitions this fall. She asked me lame questions about my plans for school. The more she spoke, the angrier I got.

Norman Sykes looked up from his copy and said impatiently Please read the highlighted portion of the letter for the record. His cold, almost colorless blue eyes didn’t attempt to hide his disdain for me or the town of Perfect. He was too young to be Chief Prosecutor, I thought. He was certainly more than a bit overzealous. He cleared his throat and said flatly We have a lot of evidence to record here. Can we stay focused on the task?

I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better, I said as a matter of courtesy; not meaning a single word. I vowed to myself that they would have to drag every word out of me. I continued. Matt and Sally had underestimated the feelings I had for them. My love was the forever kind. The till death do we part kind. They had betrayed me. They deserved whatever happened to them. Till death do us part… It was the last time that I would ever work out with Sally. The Prosecutor looked at me blankly, his eyes boring through me.

Finally he spoke, What did you take those words to mean, Mr. Hastings?

Remembering my promise I responded, I assumed she meant that since she would soon be going away to school, that she wouldn’t see Sally again.

Frustrated, Sykes said only Continue.

The letter continued: More importantly, my busy schedule kept me from having to interact with my parents. At first, in the days following the camping trip decision they were behaving smugly, drunk with power; so giddy with the feeling of revenge, that they didn’t notice that I had distanced myself from them. As days became weeks; then weeks into months, they became acutely aware that something had changed. I only spoke to my younger siblings. I had made certain to spend time with them every day. They were young and would miss me the most. I went to both Mike’s little league and Marissa’s soccer games. It was now August, and my parents were forced to deal with a situation that they were obviously both unfamiliar and uncomfortable with: Independent thought.

I had prepared myself for the adjustments of college life. After receiving my dorm assignment information; I took the initiative to contact my new roommate. Her name was Emily Jannsen, a senior from Vermont. She was the captain of the field hockey team. She had been hand-picked by the new coach to be my roommate and mentor. To be perfectly honest, we didn’t connect right away. She was a little too coarse for my tastes. I continued to call her though, to get as much information about the new coach as I could. She wasn’t the one who recruited me, so I wanted to make a great first impression. It seems that she was brought to Staunton to raise the level of competition and she was serious about her goal. My conditioning and skills had been honed all summer, not to mention my new attitude. I was determined not to fail; I was ready.

I was also ready to leave Perfect as well, my bags were packed both emotionally and physically. There were a couple of bon voyage parties, just before I was scheduled to leave. I skipped these. Instead choosing to say my goodbyes personally and privately to a few people that I still considered close friends; specifically Megan and Donna, a sophomore that I had recruited, mentored and considered to be a rising star. Megan told me that everyone figured that I had skipped the parties due to the lingering stigma of the camping trip scandal. But Sally’s absence was mysterious. The Baker’s typically vacationed in August before their sons began football practice, maybe they had incorporated taking Sally to school into their trip. I said nothing. That explanation worked for me. I never intended to return to Perfect. There was only one more issue, but there was still plenty of time to deal with Matt.

Mr. Hastings? Certainly you’re aware of the procedure by now? Sykes sarcastically barked, his voice becoming more elevated and shrill. You read a highlighted section, and then you give me your comments! It’s pretty simple. What you think Deirdre meant in that last passage?" I stared back at him, even though it was early in the process I had already grown weary of this ill-tempered, rude and condescending little man. I answered him in an effeminate voice, that I normally reserved for my friends or an expression of righteous indignation, that I was certain would anger him, considering his obvious contempt for me. Maybe it would get him off of my back for awhile.

I’m sure I don’t know, I said while rolling my eyes. I don’t read minds. When I looked him in the face, I was certain that I had accomplished my goal of angering him, but his reaction was not what I expected.

He sat back in his chair while removing his glasses that I was sure he wore more for appearance than need and said, You’re assistance though potentially expedient, is totally at my discretion, a courtesy really. So if you insist on making my progress more difficult than need be, I will be more likely to put more emphasis on your role in these events, when I finally get to that portion of the investigation. You might want to consider the mood that I would be in under those circumstances. He put his glasses back on and focused his stare on the plastic covered letter, without looking in my direction. He had gotten my attention.

CHAPTER 4

Deirdre’s College Years

Freshman Year—Fall Semester

IT WAS AN AWKWARDLY QUIET ride to Boston; well at least it was for my parents. I spent my time playing games, watching videos and talking with my brother and sister. I had everything planned. I no longer needed my parents for anything. My scholarship covered everything: tuition, books, fees and expenses. I was eighteen and emancipated. I didn’t need their signature or permission to do anything. This might sound like childish revenge, but the reality was that I was just taking control of my own life, for once. Growing up in Perfect had meant blindly following the prescribed life course. Now I was in control. I would take the credit for, and suffer the consequences of my actions. Never again would they be able to on one hand, take the credit for my good deeds, and then punish me for exercising a choice that I had a right to make; if it didn’t suit their fancy. Most importantly, I had made the emotional separation from them over the summer. In fact, they had made it easy for me. Their obnoxious behavior after the commencement ceremony was the final straw, it was not so much the decision they had made, but the way they reveled in my pain, after the decision. The fact that there was not one mention of how much damage had been done to me personally by their decision. They of course weren’t responsible for Matt actions, but their total lack of compassion for my feelings drove a wedge between us that no bridge would ever span. I realized that my life had no meaning to them, other than to enhance their place in society, and to glorify the image of their parenting skills.

Upon reaching the campus, I immediately found a guide to escort my parents to the mandatory parents’ orientation meeting. This is the meeting where the administration verbally cuts the umbilical cord of hovering parents, by explaining to them the Bill of Student Rights. I gave my brother and sister one last big hug and kiss. I watched them as they ran off after my parents, then turned and went on about the business of the rest of my life. I elicited the help of a volunteer and moved into my dorm room; made some initial plans relating to setup and took a walk around campus until it was time to go to my orientation, where I listened, ate pizza and mingled until almost midnight, purposely. I walked back to my dorm past where my parents had parked, finding their parking spot long vacated. Perfect. Good riddance!

I finished the letter and paused reflectively, then launched my plan. Mr. Sykes, I said with a tone of reverence. I don’t remember everything about these early communications, but I do know that they are detailed and contain a lot of personal information.

Yes, they do. Sykes replied with more than a little irritation.

I continued, I was thinking that I should take the time to read each communication completely, in order to make sure that I recall everything. This is very important, after all. Sykes glared at me over his glasses, looking a bit more relaxed, as he reveled in my attempt at stroking his ego.

What are you proposing? Sykes said, trying not to seem interested.

I offered, If it was possible for me to also take home copies of the documents that lead up to the ones that include the highlighted sections, I might be able to add more insight into my analysis. Additionally, by reading them at home, I could be more efficient when relaying the information to you, thereby making our time together more effective. Sykes stared directly into Rodger’s eyes, attempting to assess whether the request was genuine or just another one of his feeble attempts to avoid the responsibility of assisting with this case. This case was the pinnacle of his career. Winning this case would provide more fuel to his already meteoric rise through the legal and political ranks. Being a skeptic, his first response was almost always not to trust anyone. However, after assessing the situation, Sykes felt that he had sufficiently warned and dominated Rodger Hastings. Besides, he could always keep him in line with the threat of prosecution.

Sykes finally replied, taking the opportunity to steal the credit for the idea. I think it would be a better use of my time to confine our time together to the analysis of the highlighted documents. If you were able add more insight to these communications, it would be very helpful to the investigation. I will get the pertinent documents copied and forwarded to you with a schedule I expect you to adhere to, which will keep the investigation on pace.

I quickly agreed, saying that I would do everything possible to assist in this case. I left the room smiling, having accomplished my intended goal. However, the sly look on the Prosecutors face indicated that I wasn’t the only winner.

I drove back home to Perfect, feeling rather proud of myself, having succeeding in creating a buffer for Deirdre against Sykes and prosecution. However, upon reaching home, reality had reared its ugly head. All of the trees on my lawn had been plastered with signs and placards expressing their disapproval at my participation in the trial. The police were still there removing the illegal signs from the front porch railing. The residents of Perfect were obviously fiercely loyal to one of their own. Even though Deirdre had not exactly spent a great deal of time visiting her childhood home, she had put the town on the map more than a few times over the years. Now, despite the nature of the publicity, Perfect was rallying around one of their own. I had my work cut out for me. I was determined to not only meet Prosecutor’s Sykes requirements for co-operation in this matter; which would keep me out of harm’s way, but also to spin Deirdre’s communications in a manner that would keep my personal promise to her. I must do everything I could to insure her safety.

The following day four large boxes arrived via a County Van accompanied by an armed Sherriff, requesting my signature to accept the evidence. For the first time I became acutely aware of the gravity of the situation. I alone through my over-zealous and obsessive habits had provided the Prosecutor with mountains of evidence. My mission was clear.

I must limit the damage that this paperwork could do. I decided that I would take on the monumental task of reading all of the documents. I was convinced that somewhere deep in that pile was something that could exonerate Deirdre. I began reading where I left off the previous day immediately after I understood the filing system of the documents.

*     *     *

I awoke the next morning after a relatively good night of sleep, considering the new surroundings. Sitting on the edge of the bed clad only in a practice jersey I surveyed the layout of my dorm room, my new home. As I scanned the room trying to visualize the possibilities, I wished that my roommate had arrived. I didn’t want to make the freshman mistake of starting a territory battle with a senior. However, I was excited about getting the room setup before venturing out onto campus. Being varsity athletes Emily and I would share a room that was designed to house four students.

I was startled as I looked through the pile of boxes by the sound of the lock turning in the dorm door. Emily Jannsen burst through the door with flowing blonde hair, a muscular jaw line, and an athletic swagger. She strode toward me with an extended hand, sizing me up as she came. She squeezed my hand, and as she patted me on my bare buttocks she said So this is my little superstar. I wasn’t sure of the intent of the words, or the pat, but she smiled broadly. She stood very close to me still holding my hand, which made me uncomfortable. I had not showered nor brushed my teeth, yet she insisted on being in my personal space.

Hello Emily! I said cheerfully, trying to free my hand. At last we finally meet. I’ve heard so much about you! This is a great room! I said, as I moved toward the pile of boxes, glad to be out of Emily’s strong and lingering grip. We should probably start getting it setup. I offered.

Forget that. Emily said, as she walked toward the door.