Law and Addiction

by Mike Papantonio

  183 went missing. This timeline was formulated by accessing his cell phone records during the time he had it in his possession. From what we can determine, though, it appears likely that Jake’s phone was taken from him and destroyed on the night we believe he went missing.

  “Before Jake disappeared, he was in the company of Anna Fowler at her father’s house in Oakley. Jake was with Anna on Tuesday evening from approximately six in the evening until nine o’clock. Bennie and I have already had a chance to talk to Anna, as has Paul. She provided us with good leads, a few of which we are continuing to follow up on. Since some of you hadn’t met Anna, I thought this would be a good opportunity for you to do that, as well as to ask her any questions you might have.”

  Anna looked around to those in the room and offered a few nods. She had already been part of two Team Jake conference calls, but this was the first time she’d had a chance to physically meet with Deke, Ron, and Alison.

  In Deke’s career he had deposed hundreds of individuals. It didn’t surprise anyone that he was the first to ask a question. “Was Jake your boyfriend, Anna?” he asked.

  Anna blinked away tears as a sad smile came over her face. “I’d like to think he was on the way to being so,” she said, “but it would be presumptuous of me to say that he was. I can say we were friends, and becoming friendlier, although we were cautious about getting involved too quickly because of my circumstances.”

  “And what circumstances are those?” asked Deke.

  “Earlier this month I went cold turkey. I had become dependent on opioids, and Jake was helping me kick that habit. In fact, I’m sure I wouldn’t have been able to get this far without him.”

  “How long have the two of you been going out?”

  “It’s been recent,” she said. “As odd as it might sound, we reacquainted at the Oakley graveyard. We had been friendly all during our school years, and for a time I sort of dated his brother, although that was more of a friend thing than anything else. Jake and I lost touch when he went away to school. We stumbled upon one another when we got back into town and then recently reconnected again. As it happened, Jake came over to my house unannounced on the very day I’d decided to go cold turkey. He reentered my life at what I would have thought was the worst possible time, but turned out to be the best.”

  “Tell me about your last night together,” said Deke.

  “I wish there was more to tell,” she said. “I’d made a chicken casserole for my father—he likes to eat early—and Jake came over after work. The two of us sat down to eat at around six thirty. Most of our conversation was about the case. I hope you don’t think Jake was talking out of shop; it was more like he was using me as his sounding board. You see, I had been helping him with some of the case paperwork in return for his doing legal work on a family matter. But you need to understand that Jake was aboveboard even in what he referred to as our ‘quid pro quo arrangement,’ and had me sign a nondisclosure agreement.”

  Deke offered a reassuring smile to the nervous young woman. He liked the way she was being protective of Jake. “Rest assured, Anna, that Jake had already told us that he was utilizing your services.”

  At the time, Deke and Paul had assumed Jake’s mysterious helper was his girlfriend, but they hadn’t pressed him on the matter. Anna looked relieved, and maybe a little pleased, that Jake had mentioned that she was providing help, and gave Deke a grateful smile.

  “During our talk that night,” she said, “it was clear that Jake was excited about some of the discoveries he’d made that day concerning the DEA. I wish he’d offered up specifics, but he didn’t. What I most remember is that he said that what he found out would help expose the Gang of Four.”

  There was head nodding from those in the room, and Carol said, “Deke and Paul, in case you haven’t had time to read your email this morning, you’ll find a file from me referencing Jake’s notes pertaining to the aforementioned Gang of Four, as well as our own supplemental findings. It appears that Jake was able to determine that between bonuses and salary incentives, those former DEA agents were making well over seventy thousand dollars more than others with the same titles already working at the Big Three pharmaceutical distributors. Bennie and I were able to verify that on the day we believe Jake went missing, he had talked to two very cooperative DEA employees who confirmed that their former bosses had dragged their feet on investigations into opioid distributors.”

  Deke shook his head. “Leave it to Jake to go where angels fear to tread. Do we think his asking those questions can be linked to his disappearance?”

  “We don’t know,” said Carol. “What we know for certain is that these four agents look and smell dirty, like they had been paid off by the Big Three to look the other way when it came to any opioid investigations. Bennie has talked in person with three of the four individuals in question.”

  All eyes turned to Bennie. He dwarfed the chair that was holding his huge 275-pound frame.

  “It would probably be more accurate to say that I’ve tried to talk to them,” he said. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to get anyone to speak with me for more than a few seconds.”

  “What’s your gut feeling tell you?” asked Deke.

  Bennie thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “These guys are freaked out to be in our headlights, but if I had to hazard a guess, I doubt that they had anything to do with Jake’s disappearance.”

  “Have you gotten anywhere with anyone at MHC?” asked Paul. “We know for a fact that two of their goons offered Jake a substantial bribe after the motion to dismiss his case was put aside. After refusing their offer, the two of them baited him, and after he took a swing, they beat him up.”

  Carol answered that question. “Based on the descriptions you provided, we believe we’ve identified those two individuals as employees of a security company that MHC has on retainer. Unfortunately, Jake’s assailants were in Texas on the night he disappeared.”

  “That doesn’t mean MHC, or one of the other Big Three, didn’t hire out the job to other goons,” said Deke.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Carol said.

  “It was for that reason I called Nathan Ailes the day before yesterday,” said Paul. “In as nice a way as I could muster, I asked him if his clients might have had anything to do with Jake’s disappearance.”

  “And how did Jazz Hands respond to that?” asked Deke.

  “He pretended great umbrage, and said only an idiot could come up with such a ridiculous notion. Then he ended the conversation by asking if we would be continuing Jake’s case in his absence, or if we were considering abandoning it.”

  “He really asked that?” said Deke.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “I can just hear that prick asking Mary Todd Lincoln, ‘Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how’d you enjoy the play?’”

  Despite everyone’s somber mood, laughter filled the room. Deke had known they needed the comic relief.

  “Anything else we should be talking about?” he asked.

  Deke scanned the room. When no one said anything, Deke turned to Anna. “Earlier you said that Jake was helping you on a family matter, and that the two of you had a quid pro quo arrangement. Would you mind telling us what Jake was doing on your family’s behalf?”

  “No problem,” she said. “I was told there was some sort of bureaucratic mix-up surrounding my father’s former business, a service station in Oakley. Earlier this month a sheriff’s deputy showed up at the house and gave my father paperwork saying the county would be auctioning off his downtown property because he had failed to make some kind of payments to the county. Jake went to the station house to talk to that deputy and told him that the sheriff’s department and the county hadn’t followed state and local law. From there he determined that there was no paperwork to document the county’s claim. Needless to say, the auction never took place, but Jake was still trying to get to the bottom of what had happened, and wasn’t satisfied with the answers he was ge
tting.”

  “That explains a file Bennie and I were looking at yesterday,” said Carol. “It was labeled ‘Fowler’s.’ Now Jake’s notations make sense. Apparently, he was searching for any patterns of abuse or fraud in nearby counties similar to what your father experienced.”

  “I’d like you to forward Jake’s file to me,” said Paul. “I think his instincts were good. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. I’d like to continue his search to see what I can find.”

  Deke turned to Anna and shook his head. “I’m sure that must have been disturbing to you and your father. Why is it that people have to go to war these days over damn near everything just to protect themselves?”

  When his rhetorical question went unanswered, he looked at the faces around the room. “Any other toes Jake was stepping on that might have gotten him into trouble?”

  Heads swiveled toward one another, but no one said anything.

  Deke returned his gaze to Anna. “Ms. Fowler, there’s no ex-boyfriend who might have been jealous?”

  Anna shook her head.

  With a nod of her head to the two paralegals, Carol said, “This week Ron and Alison have been training the new hires who will be working our twenty-four-hour toll-free hotline. They’ve also been overseeing the distribution of reward posters with Jake’s picture on it. By tomorrow, those posters will be on display throughout the state, and we need to prepare for a tsunami of crazy.”

  Bergman/Deketomis was offering a $100,000 reward for any information leading to Jake’s whereabouts.

  “Do we have anyone working with the media besides Ron and Alison?” asked Deke.

  “I brought in Molly Gold,” said Carol. Molly was the head of PR at the firm. “She made sure every television station in the state played up Jake’s disappearance. And she’s continued to beat the drums to make sure that the offer of reward money will generate a second news cycle. If that doesn’t result in Jake’s being found, Molly suggests that in two or three days we organize a candlelight vigil. Doing that will help keep Jake in the public eye.”

  Deke sighed. “Let’s hope so,” he said. “The more eyes we get on this, the better. Have you had any better luck motivating law enforcement to make Jake’s disappearance their biggest priority?”

  “Two detectives have been assigned to the case,” she said. “They seem professional, and they’re putting in the time and legwork, but haven’t uncovered anything we don’t already know.”

  “Assure them we’ll provide any resources they need,” said Deke.

  Once more, he looked around the room before asking, “Any other suggestions as to what we might be doing to bring our boy home?”

  The room was quiet. It was clear that everything that could be done to help locate Jake was being done.

  “Prayers can’t hurt any,” whispered Anna.

  “Amen,” said Paul.

  23

  A DIET OF BUG JUICE

  “Screw you!” Jake shouted, then raised his middle finger as high as

  the cage allowed. Other than a few birds that momentarily stopped singing, nothing in the woods seemed to notice Jake’s outburst. He hoped someone was monitoring him and that he wasn’t wasting his time merely cursing the universe. His sharp eyes had picked out what he thought was a camera positioned in a sugar maple some twenty yards away from his prison. The camera seemed to have been angled to look in through the fabric’s narrow opening. If not for the occasional reflection of light off its lens, he doubted he would have noticed it.

  What he didn’t know was whether his captivity was being livestreamed to some other location. It was also possible that there was no camera and it was only wishful thinking making him see things. But surely whoever was holding him captive would have him under surveillance. Just in case they’d missed his first commentary, Jake flipped the bird at the camera for a second time.

  For at least a week, he’d been cooped up in the cage. He couldn’t be any more specific than that because there were holes in his memory. Most of the time he’d slept. The sleep wasn’t only to while away

  190 the time; Jake knew his food and water were drugged. To date, he’d had no contact with his captors, or none that he could remember. On three occasions he’d awakened to find that his waste bucket had been emptied and food had been left. That he’d slept through the visits suggested he’d been drugged. He suspected even more potent drugs had been introduced into his system while he slept—those would explain the sore red lesions he’d found in the area of his hip. It would also explain his fugue states, the way he wasn’t even aware of the passage of time.

  The food that had been left for him was stick-to-your-ribs fare: a pie tin of homemade cornbread along with helpings of boiled potatoes, hush puppies, boiled eggs, hot dogs, sausages, and bologna. Fruit seemed to be an afterthought, but he had gotten a few apples and bananas, as well as carrots.

  At the moment, Jake was down to a hush puppy and the last few inches of his drink. He wondered if his diminished larder was a psychological ploy by those holding him. Maybe they wanted him on edge and off balance. If so, he had to admit it was working; he was increasingly anxious to be resupplied.

  He reached for his bottle of bug juice. That’s what he and Blake and their friends had all called it when they were kids. How sweetened water had come to be called bug juice by all of them, he didn’t know. The flavored sugar water was poor-man’s soda pop.

  Jake lifted the bottle, bemused that his captivity had reacquainted him with the drink of his youth. He started out taking a circumspect sip but found himself downing a big gulp. It had gotten so that he was now craving the bug juice.

  The drink left him feeling more relaxed. It also focused him on the need to escape. As he did several times a day, he began doing what he thought of as his escape exercises. Positioned on his back, he kicked at the cage, probing for weak spots. It must have looked like a supine version of vigorous bicycling. He put all his weight into leg strikes. Each kick made a clang like a bell being rung. Certain noises traveled long distances; he hoped his clarion call might make someone curious enough to investigate.

  All his banging, though, didn’t seem to have any effect on the cage; if there was a weak spot, he had yet to find it. The compact space restricted his movements; he couldn’t gather enough momentum to throw himself at the cage. After what he imagined was about ten minutes of kicking the metal, Jake was forced to take a break. He didn’t want to overheat and face the night with damp clothes. It was already cold enough even with the blankets. But it wasn’t only the sweating that made him stop. He hated to admit it, but his captivity already had him out of shape. That’s what happened when you couldn’t stand up straight and walk around. He had tried to keep fit with push-ups and sit-ups, but those weren’t aerobic exercises.

  For the umpteenth time, Jake considered how he might escape his cage. What would MacGyver do? he wondered. Would it be possible to make some kind of fulcrum using his shoelaces and the old galvanized pail? Or maybe he could remove the pail’s handle and strop its ends against the metal until they were sharp. But even if he managed to hone the edges to razor sharpness, it would require a whole lot of filing to cut through the bars.

  The opening of the cage was probably where it was weakest. Or it would have been its weakest spot had it not been secured with a fabric-covered chain lock. Even if Jake was able to get through that material, he was fairly sure there wasn’t a weak link in that chain.

  Tonight, it’s important that I stay awake, he thought. I’ll ask questions of my captor and learn who’s behind my abduction and find out why I’ve been taken. Maybe he could get his unknown jailer to sympathize with his plight. Jake could talk about Anna. All he had to do was speak from his heart and voice his real concerns. He felt bad about not being there for her when she was at her most vulnerable. He hoped she hadn’t relapsed.

  “Everything was going so well,” he whispered. It had felt like he, Deke, and Paul were the legal dream team. It didn’t matter what the oppositi
on threw against them. They had tried high-powered attorneys, and even the almighty attorneys freaking general from not one, but two states. But their side had never blinked, nor would they. The truth would make their case for them.

  He thought about Paul and Deke. Every day he had gone into work like an excited kid. They had been teaching him so much. And what he missed most was the laughter when the three of them got together. They were all committed to their cause, but the other two men liked laughing as much as Jake did.

  It had been fun to laugh again. He thought about how Blake’s death had changed him and made him more somber. It wasn’t until he’d made these new friends that he’d felt it was okay to be happy.

  “I miss them,” Jake whispered, “and I miss Anna.” He found himself fighting off tears, aware that his emotions were becoming more difficult to control. The enforced solitude was taking its toll on him. It was easy—too easy—to wallow in loneliness.

  That kind of pity party, he realized, threatened to be debilitating. Prison or not, he thought, I need to use my time. It’s important that I stay sharp, no matter what.

  Finding that inner resolve bolstered him. “What I need to do,”

  Jake said aloud, “is prepare my case for when I get out.” There were lots of excuses not to do that. Jake knew he looked

  like hell. His scratchy beard itched like anything. The clothes he

  was wearing were dirty, and his hygiene was limited to a gum-sized

  sliver of soap that his captor had left, along with a few small bottles

  of water, which were enough for a sponge bath. His sleep was fitful, as drugged sleep often is. The mats he’d been left to sleep on diminished the hard ridges of the bottom of the cage, and the rocky earth under that, but even a lumpy mattress would have been better. All that was bad enough, but the biggest obstacle of all was his state of mind. The doctored bug juice muddled his thinking, made it feel like he was slogging through an unremitting fog. But he couldn’t let