Cory's Flight

by Dan Petrosini

  “Can’t we bring this up at the trial?”

  “This amounts to hearsay, which is inadmissible. If the judge even allows it, the prosecutor will tear it to shreds.”

  “I need a little more time.”

  “You’re not planning anything dangerous if you’re released, are you?”

  * * *

  Back in his cell, Cory checked his email. There was nothing from Gavin. He didn’t know what to do. He needed information on Tower as a kid but was constrained by the inability to search the entire web for clues.

  An inmate, pushing a cart by his cell, said, “Hey, Music Man! You want a paper or book?”

  “No thanks.”

  As the inmate moved away, Cory had an idea. He calculated the year as 1985. It was when Tower would have moved in with the Leonardos. Now, where to begin?

  Cory knew searching the archives of New York City’s newspapers would take a ton of time, but he had nothing better to do. Cory figured the Daily News, which liked to play it sensational, would be the place to start.

  He navigated to their archives tab. Cory wasn’t sure what he was looking for but would search for something disturbing involving a kid or family.

  The screen was a thumbnail of the front pages of the day’s paper. He sat back; the task was daunting. He wondered whether if what had happened was so heinous it would make front-page news.

  It was possible but worth the try. He scrolled through headlines: President Reagan pressuring the Russians; the introduction of New Coke; a devastating earthquake in Mexico City; the hijacking of TWA flight 847; and terrorists commandeering a ship named the Achille Lauro. He paused looking at the front-page image of the famine in Ethiopia.

  The hopelessness of the situation in Africa made him think. Was his search futile, or should he not be deterred by what seemed desperate but in comparison wasn’t?

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Cory blinked his eyes several times before standing. He stretched his back. He’d been scanning old newspapers for two hours and was only in the middle of the year. Whatever he was searching for, if there was anything, could have happened any time before Tower was taken into the Leonardo home.

  Cory had heard of kids being shuttled from one foster home to another. Something could have happened when he was five and he was put into another family’s home at that time before transferring to the Leonardos.

  Taking two hours to go through half a year, he calculated it would take forty hours to go through just the headlines of the morning and late editions. Cory shook his head and picked up the tablet. An email had come in. It was from Gavin:

  “Thanks for your concern about Betty. She’s doing better today.

  “I forgot to tell you about Richard. You know my memory ain’t what it used to be!

  “It really was a very sad situation for the young man. He was the victim of abuse, by his own father, if you can believe it, and the state took over. They had good intentions, but the system failed him.

  “The first family they put him with ended up being the same situation he was rescued from. It’s incredible. I don’t blame him for taking matters into his own hands.

  “I remember watching the Gandhi assassination on TV when Betty told me about Richard. Of course, we didn’t know him at the time, but we felt bad for any kid having to go through that.

  “I don’t recall where the Leonardos moved to, but Betty says they moved to Staten Island. She said she remembered the street was Dawson Circle because it reminded her of the TV show Dawson’s Creek.

  “Thanks for the tip on Nebraska Medical. Let’s hope we don’t have to take the trip.

  “Best regards, Gavin.”

  Cory reread the email. He tried to read between the lines. What had happened to Tower? Was Gavin cryptic on purpose? Tower had been abused. Not only by his father but by another family.

  Cory circled the cell. How could the people in charge of protecting children put him into an abusive household? Gavin had said Tower took matters into his own hands. What did he do?

  He read the message again. Gavin mentioned Gandhi being killed. All that Cory knew about Gandhi was that he was a leader in India who preached nonviolent resistance. He recalled a movie he’d seen about him, but it was set decades before Tower was born.

  Cory Googled the leader. The summary said he’d been assassinated in 1948. What the heck was Gavin talking about? Was he getting dementia? He scrolled down. Gandhi must have been a popular name, he thought, especially for leaders.

  He clicked on a woman, Indira Gandhi. He looked at the summary of the former prime minister. Bingo. She was killed on October 31st in 1984.

  Cory had a date stamp. He wouldn’t have to page through years of reporting. He looked at the Daily News from October 30th, the day before Gandhi was killed. The front-page headline was about a New York congressman suspected of corruption.

  He went page by page. Cory saw an article on page nine whose headline read, “Father Arrested.” Cory read the piece: a man was taken into custody for chaining his son to the car door while he drank in a Flatbush bar. The kid was five. It didn’t fit.

  Cory went to the paper for the 31st. He expected to see a headline about the killing of the Indian leader. But the morning edition featured a story about a woman involved in a scam of the telephone company. He opened the late edition. The headline screamed, “Gandhi Shot Eight Times.”

  He paged through the paper. The first eight pages were coverage of the assassination. Cory swiped to page nine. A headline halfway down caught his eye: Eleven-year-old Fatally Stabs Man.

  Cory held his breath as he read the article:

  In a late-breaking story, police were summoned to a Hell’s Kitchen apartment at two this morning. Upon entering the home, they found the body of forty-two-year-old Edward Rosen in one of the home’s bedrooms.

  Mr. Rosen’s wife told police she had been sleeping and that sounds of a struggle woke her up. She went to investigate and found her husband had been stabbed multiple times. Mrs. Rosen informed police she believed an eleven-year-old child they were foster parenting had stabbed her husband to death.

  The minor, whose name is being withheld, was taken into custody and is being held in a juvenile detention center pending an investigation.

  Cory reread the article, doing mental math to see if the age fit how old Tower would have been in 1984. It did. Why had Tower killed his foster father?

  Cory’s mind raced. Had Tower served time for the murder? If so, he was living with the Leonardos in 1985; how could he have gotten out so soon?

  The killing was what Gavin had referred to. He had mentioned abuse by his biological father. Had the abuse damaged Tower so badly as a child that he snapped and stabbed his foster father?

  Cory had heard of situations where someone went into a trance, mistaking a person for someone else. Had Tower thought Mr. Rosen was his father and stabbed him? Then he recalled Gavin’s message.

  Cory pulled it up. He said that Tower was subjected to abuse again and that Child Protective Services had failed. Had Mr. Rosen abused Tower as well? It was hard to believe.

  Envisioning Tower as a helpless child, Cory felt a surge of sympathy for the lawyer. What a terrible thing for a child to experience.

  Cory felt the need to reinforce protection against any inappropriate contact or speech his kids were subjected to. It had to be reported, no matter who did it. He’d tell Linda to say something to Tommy and Ava immediately.

  Cory’s thoughts went back to Tower. What next? He had to look into the Rosen family and knew they had lived in an area of Manhattan known as Hell’s Kitchen.

  Chapter Seventy

  Cory was ferried with eight other inmates in a van to the Centre Street Court House. Legs shackled and hands cuffed, the nine of them snaked their way up a beige stairway to a small cell.

  As the men sat on metal benches, a guard unlocked the door. “Lupinski. You’re up.”

  Cory was taken outside and his legs unshackled. He was led into t
he courtroom. He scanned the audience, spotting Linda in the first row. She smiled and waved.

  Cory’s legs quivered. He had to get out. Worth stepped over and showed Cory to one of two chairs behind a table. Cory turned around, mouthing, ‘I Love you’ to his wife. Worth said, “Don’t say anything. Regardless of how it goes. If they deny bail and there’s an outburst, it’ll be remembered.”

  “I got it. You think I’ll get out?”

  “These proceedings are difficult to predict.”

  “All rise, this court is now in session.”

  Everyone stood as a bald man in black robes made his way to his seat. He adjusted his glasses as the bailiff announced Cory’s case.

  After both sides staked out their positions, the judge asked them to approach the bench. Cory concentrated on hearing what was being said. Leaning forward, he worked his ears as if he were at a jam session playing a tune he didn’t know.

  The assistant district attorney was objecting to what Worth was saying, telling the judge that Cory had run once. Worth assured the judge with a monitoring device and the amount of money at risk, his client wouldn’t run.

  The judge looked at Worth. Cory stretched his neck, picking up the question posed: “Will you take responsibility for your client? Guaranteeing his appearance in this court?”

  Worth nodded. Was this going to be successful? Cory wanted to signal Linda but kept his eyes glued on the discussion. The prosecutor shook his head. Cory heard him beg the judge, repeat that he’d run before and had means to do it again.

  The judge acknowledged the concern and thanked them. The lawyers retreated to their stations. Cory studied Worth. He’d make a great poker player. Cory leaned in but the attorney put a finger to his lips.

  The judge moved the mic back in place. “The court will grant the release of Mr. Lupinski to afford him an opportunity to mount a defense for his upcoming trial. The release will be subject to maintaining the monetary bail posted, require Mr. Lipinski to wear an ankle monitoring device, and bear the expense of a twenty-four-hour guard.”

  Cory turned to Linda, and the judge said, “Mr. Lupinski, let me warn you that this release is conditional. The slightest violation will land you back in prison.”

  “I understand, Your Honor. Thank you so much.”

  The judge pounded his gavel, and Worth led Cory out. He was going to be free, for a while.

  * * *

  Outfitted with an ankle device, Cory bounded up the stairs, leaving the six-foot guard at his building’s entrance. The door to his apartment was open, and Linda and the kids rushed to embrace him.

  A tearful reunion was broken up by Tommy. “Let Daddy see the banner. Look, did you see it?”

  “That’s super! You made that?”

  Tommy beamed, “Yeah. Ava helped too.”

  Arms around both kids, Cory said, “You don’t know how good it feels to be home with you.”

  Ava said, “We’re glad you’re home, Dad.”

  He kissed both of them and walked around the apartment. He stepped into his studio.

  “Dad, you must have missed playing.”

  “You bet I did. I played a little with this guard, Franklin, gave him a couple of lessons. He was a good guy.”

  “You can play all you want now.”

  Before Cory could respond, Linda said, “How about a home-cooked meal?”

  “Music to my ears.”

  * * *

  It was 10 p.m. Cory read two books to Tommy and stopped in Ava’s room. He sat on the edge of the bed. “You all right?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I know it’s been hard on you.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Kids giving you a hard time at school?”

  She shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad. I don’t let it bother me anymore. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  “I promise, this will be over soon. We’re close to exposing the plot against me, and now that I’m home, I can really move things along.”

  “I can help.”

  “Thanks. Right now, concentrate on your schoolwork. You’ll need good grades to get into college. If I need you, I’ll let you know. Sleep well, princess.”

  Cory plopped on the couch next to Linda. He put his legs on the table. “It’s going to take some getting used to this.” He tugged his pants up, revealing the ankle device.

  “It’s a small price to pay.”

  “And the guard. But I don’t care. You can’t imagine what it was like in there.”

  “I’m sure it was scary.”

  Cory shrugged. “Yeah, I’m not going back, I can tell you that.”

  “God forbid.”

  “Don’t worry.” Cory nestled into his wife.

  She put her arms around him. “I missed you so much.”

  Cory put his hands under her sweater. “You feel so good. Let’s go to the bedroom inside.”

  The warmth of Linda’s silky skin felt good. Cory didn’t want to slip out of bed, but there was work to be done. He slid his arm out from under her neck. Linda stirred but didn’t awaken.

  Cory scooped up his clothes, dressing by the door. He left the bedroom and closed the studio door behind him. He now had unfettered access to the information on the web.

  He’d start with the Rosen family. Cory had located their address in Hell’s Kitchen, an area next to the Theater District, but the wife had moved shortly after the scandal had broken.

  Cory empathized with the woman. Unless she’d turned a blind eye to her husband’s perversion, she’d been drawn into something evil through no fault of her own.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Cory searched the Daily News for information on the Rosens. The first name of the man Tower had killed as a child was Jack. He couldn’t find his wife’s name. He tried the New York Post archives. A picture on page four caught his attention.

  A kid was being led down the stairs by a police officer. His face had been blocked out with a black bar. In the doorway was a woman in a housecoat. The caption read, “At the murder scene, Jody Rosen watches her foster child taken into custody”.

  Cory leaned in. The black-and-white picture was grainy, but Cory could feel the anguish on her face. It was a mess, he thought. He studied the little boy. It was Tower as a kid. He looked so small. He was just a bit older than his own son.

  He wondered what state of mind Tower was in. Was he crying? Did he realize what he’d done? He envisioned Tower methodically planning the attack. He could see the lawyer unemotionally stabbing his stepfather.

  In Cory’s mind, the man deserved his fate, but it was still a chilling act. He considered the series of events that led to Tower taking a man’s life. Tower lost his mother early, and his father, instead of caring for him, abused him.

  Compounding the damage, a government agency responsible for protecting kids failed to protect Tower. The agency not only ordered him back into the house with his father but failed to vet the foster parents they placed him with.

  It was inexcusable. Cory felt for Tower as a kid, forced to fight abuse. No wonder he changed his name. Tower was looking to put distance between him and his past.

  He knew the lawyer was irreparably damaged, and it was understandable. But why frame Cory? Was it the revenge thing, a controlling obsession, what?

  Cory stared at the newspaper photo wondering how many other kids were being destroyed. He shook his head and hit the print button.

  He went back to searching. Cory needed to verify the circumstances. He needed background and tried to track down Jody Rosen. She’d know what happened, but would she be willing to talk?

  No matter where he searched, he couldn’t find her. He checked the obituary pages, and bingo, there was a Judith Rosen who died a dozen years ago. The woman, a resident of Queens, fit as Tower’s foster mother.

  Cory tried to clear his mind. One door had shut. Should he tell Worth to depose Brian Cliff over the blood?
Maybe Gavin could provide more background.

  He opened the email conversation he’d had with the Facebook contact from the West Village. Reading through, he decided to follow the lead to the one thing Child Protection Services had seemingly done right, placing Tower into the Leonardo home.

  Gavin had mentioned Staten Island as the place the Leonardos had moved to. Cory navigated to New York City’s property tax site. He checked the street Gavin’s wife mentioned and crossed himself.

  He went back twenty years and plugged it in the portal. He scrolled through all the listings on the street and came up empty.

  He went to the next year and the following one until finding the Leonardo tax bill. Jumping to the year ahead, he found the names of the people who’d bought the Leonardo home.

  He Googled for a phone number and checked the time. It was 11:20 p.m. Not a time to call if you wanted cooperation.

  * * *

  The next morning, Cory made waffles and said, “I’ll be right back. Gotta make a quick call.”

  He slid into the studio and called the people who’d bought the Leonardo home. They were helpful, giving him the address and telephone number they had. Cory checked it on Google Maps. They were living in Bensonhurst.

  Cory called the Leonardo home. Cory held his breath as it rang. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Leonardo?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “You don’t know me, sir. But I—”

  “I’m hanging up. Goodbye.”

  The phone clicked off. Cory hit redial. “Is that you again?”

  “Yes but—”

  “I’m blocking your number. Goodbye, don’t call again.”

  “Please.” Cory heard a dial tone. “Damn it.” He called back but it went straight to voice mail. He left a message saying he needed to talk about Richard Sullivan.

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Cory left a dozen messages for Leonardo but never received a call back. He had to talk to him. Leonardo could be the only person who knew the entire story.

  He wanted to go to Bensonhurst, but there was the ankle bracelet and a guard outside. Evading the guard was doable, but the GPS monitor would set off an alarm as soon as he was a hundred yards away.