Return to Innocence

by G. M. Frazier

  “Yes. And I know who did it.”

  “Who?”

  “Chris Manning.”

  I look down my nose at Suzanne. She is staring at me. I can see she is thinking.

  “It happened Friday night, didn’t it?” she says. “That’s why he asked you to come and get Tommy the next day. It didn’t have anything to do with Mary. And that’s why he kept calling here to check on Tommy. He was worried Tommy was going to tell you about it.”

  I give my wife a thumbs-up, which seems like a wholly inappropriate gesture as I make it.

  Suzanne continues: “And that’s why Tommy was acting out here. The incident with Carla. And Benjamin.”

  “Uh-huh,” I say. “He even tried to start something with me when I was in his room Sunday night. That’s when I started suspecting that something had happened between him and Chris. I confronted Chris with it Monday morning and gave him twenty-four hours to tell his wife before I reported him. I think Chris killed himself, Suzanne. That accident was no accident.”

  “Oh, Glen. Why is Tommy saying you did it?”

  “I think Tommy has put two and two together just like I have. I told him I was going to report Chris. I think Tommy believes Chris killed himself, too. And he’s blaming me for it. And he’s right. I am to blame.”

  And for the first time my role in Chris’ death hits me, and hits me hard. In my subconscious I have been blaming myself all along. I am overwhelmed by guilt. It’s like a stabbing pain in my mid-section. It’s a fearful thing to admit to yourself that you are responsible for the loss of a human life.

  “Glen?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Why haven’t you told them the truth?

  “Them who?”

  “Anybody…everybody, Glen. If Chris is the one who did this why didn’t you just tell the police what really happened to Tommy?”

  “I don’t expect you to understand this, honey. I’m not sure I understand it myself. But I promised Chris Manning on his death bed that I would not let his wife find out what he had done. He died believing that she would never know. I also promised Tommy that I wouldn’t report this. I have to keep these promises.”

  Suzanne looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Glen, Chris Manning didn’t know that Tommy was going to blame you for what he had done. Don’t you think Chris would understand if you told? And as for Tommy, do you really care now about any promise you made to him.”

  “I don’t know. I do know that you and Jim Aiken are the only people I have told. And you two are the only ones I intend to tell. You have to promise me that you will not repeat this to anyone. I mean it.”

  “I don’t know, Glen. Maybe if I talk to Chris’ wife, she would understand—”

  “No. I’m adamant about this, Suzanne. I didn’t have to tell you. Now that I have, you must promise me that you will keep this between us.”

  Is it my guilt over Chris’ death that is behind my resolve? Yes, I can see that now. Chris would not be dead if I had handled this differently. By not reporting the incident immediately I gave Chris too much time to think about what he had done. I came across Monday morning as an unforgiving son-of-a-bitch and Chris drove off unable to forgive himself. I accused him of betraying Tommy. And in a very real sense, I betrayed Chris then. I’ll not betray him again.

  “Will you do this for me?” I ask my wife.

  “I don’t understand it, Glen. I don’t. But I won’t tell anyone, if that is what you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  Benjamin walks into the den rubbing his eyes and wearing nothing but his little Power Rangers briefs.

  “Hey, sleepy head,” I say.

  “Hey, Daddy. Why’d you leave me alone?”

  “I woke up, little man. You were still asleep, so I didn’t wake you.”

  He yawns and crawls up on the sofa with his mother. She kisses him and puts her arms around him.

  “I’m hungry, Mommy.”

  “Oh, Glen, what are we going to do about dinner? I haven’t even thought about it.”

  “I can go get something, I guess. But first, I’m going to take a shower.”

  Peter is riding with me to Hardee’s. We have decided on fried chicken for dinner. The nap and the cry seem to have been just what Peter needed. He is back to his old self.

  I hope.

  As for me, I feel revived after spending forty-five minutes in the shower. I even shaved. I am starting to think of my defense. I’ve got to get with Jim. But how—

  “Dad?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I saw you.”

  “What, son?”

  “I saw you. Sunday night. I saw you with Tommy. I got up to remind you about my basketball game. I saw you rubbing his back and stuff. And he didn’t have anything on but his underwear.”

  I had forgotten I left the bedroom door open. “Then you know the truth, Peter. Did you see me do anything wrong with Tommy?”

  “I don’t know…it just looked funny, seeing him up against you like that. And you were hugging him and stuff. Why, Dad?”

  The light at the next intersection turns red and I begin to slow. “Peter, let me ask you something. You don’t do it much anymore, but how did you feel last night when you crawled in my lap out at the pool? I mean before the police got there.”

  “How did I feel?”

  “Yes, son. Think about it for a minute. How did you feel being that close to me? How did it feel to have my arms around you? For me to kiss you and hug you?”

  “I don’t know. It felt...good. Safe. Like, everything would be okay. Is that what you mean?”

  The light is green. I turn right and accelerate. “Yes, that’s what I mean. And I bet if you think about it you can remember plenty of times when you felt that same way when you’re close to me or your mother. Like when I come in your room to tell you goodnight. We hug and kiss. Sometimes I lie in bed with you and we cuddle up and talk about things. That makes you feel the same way, right?”

  “Yeah. But what’s this got to do with you and Tommy?”

  “Well, suppose you didn’t have me, or Mom, or anyone, to be close to, to make you feel that way. Suppose the only times you had ever been that close to someone they hit you or abused you. No hugs. No kisses. No back rubs. No talks. Just pain and hurt and humiliation.”

  “Is that what happened to Tommy?”

  “He’s just a year older than you, Peter. And that’s the kind of childhood he’s had. Tommy’s never had a dad or a mom or anyone to hold him and make him feel the way you feel when I hold you.”

  “So you were...sort of...what? Being his ‘dad’ Sunday night?”

  “In a way, I guess I was, son. Tommy needed someone to hold him. To make him feel good and safe. To make him feel like everything would be okay. And that’s why I was in his room that night. Understand?”

  “Yeah. You know when I came down and told you Tommy was crying and woke me up? Just before you went in to talk to him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I kinda lied about that. Tommy did wake me up. He came in my room and got in my bed…” Peter hesitates

  I look over at him. “And?”

  “He started feeling me up, Dad. You know what that means?”

  I smile and almost laugh. “I know what that means,” I say. “Why didn’t you come and get me?”

  “He just wanted to mess around. I told him to quit it and when he didn’t, I kicked him out of the bed.”

  “Messing around” is what Peter calls it. Child Psychologists call it “sex play,” something boys his age occasionally engage in out of innocent curiosity and simple pleasure. As far as Peter knew, that’s all Tommy was up to. Peter wasn’t interested in Tommy’s advances, so he kicked him out of the bed. End of story. Or was it?

  “Did anything else happen?” I ask as we pull into the Hardee’s parking lot.

  “No. He started crying. He went back to his room and I came down to tell you. I didn’t mean to make him cry. He’s a weird kid.

&
nbsp; “He’s had a hard life, son.”

  Chapter 9

  Job’s Counsel

  Returning from taking Peter to school the next morning, I pull my Impala up beside Jim’s Bentley in our driveway. I am glad to see he is here waiting for me. Now, with a somewhat clear head, I can sit down with Jim and talk about what’s going to happen next. There shouldn’t be anymore surprises, at least.

  I walk in through the kitchen door to find Jim and Suzanne sitting at the table. Benjamin is in Jim’s lap with his little Erskine tartan robe on. “Good morning,” I say to everyone.

  “Hey, Daddy!” Benjamin beams.

  “Hey, yourself, little man.” I wink at him. He smiles.

  “Mornin’, Glen,” Jim says. “Suzanne filled me in on Peter and the school. How’d it go this morning?”

  I lean down and kiss my wife. “The headmaster put Peter under the Code. Can you believe it?”

  “They have a Honor Code like we had at Chadwick?” Jim asks.

  “Yep.” I walk over and pour myself a mug of coffee. “The headmaster made teasing Peter a matter for the Honor Court.”

  “Do they take it as seriously as we did at Chadwick?”

  “I believe they do. I don’t think Peter will have a repeat of yesterday. I went with him to home room and the kids seemed perfectly normal.” I sit at the table. Benjamin gets out of Jim’s lap and crawls in mine. I look at Suzanne. “You aren’t taking him to preschool?”

  “No. Peter can handle it, Code or no Code. Benjamin couldn’t, and you know it, Glen.”

  “Yeah,” I say and take a sip of coffee. “Jim, let’s talk about what happens next.”

  “Come on, Benjamin,” Suzanne says, “let’s go get dressed.”

  “Nooo,” Benjamin whines, “I wanna stay with Daddy and Uncle Jim.”

  I look over at Jim with raised eyebrows. “Uncle Jim?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Jim says. “He started calling me that this morning. And I certainly don’t mind.” He reaches over and pinches Benjamin’s nose.

  Benjamin giggles and bounces on my lap.

  “You like Uncle Jim?” I ask him.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, Uncle Jim and Daddy need to talk by ourselves. So run along with Mommy, okay?”

  “Okay...” Benjamin pouts and slips out of my lap. He and Suzanne depart for his bedroom.

  Jim picks up his coffee mug and looks over it. “So what happens next? Well, like the judge told you yesterday, the arraignment is Friday. Tomorrow. That’s the next step in the process.”

  “And what’s the arraignment all about?”

  “The judge will look at the evidence Moultrie’s got and decide if there’s enough there to go any further. Glen, we can probably put an end to this thing tomorrow.”

  “How?”

  “By explaining what actually did happen.” I start to protest, but Jim raises his hand. “Hear me out. You seem to be convinced that putting the blame on Chris Manning is only going to make you look guiltier. If we get to trial and you haven’t said anything up until then about Chris doing the abusing, and then suddenly you start blaming him—well, you’re right, that would look like just a desperate attempt to clear yourself. But, if you start telling the truth now, it may not even make it to trial.” Jim pauses to give me a chance to respond.

  “Go on,” I tell him.

  “Okay. Normally, only the solicitor can present evidence and witnesses at the preliminary hearing. The defense can cross examine the witnesses and that’s all. But two years ago the legislature passed a law calling for a full probable cause hearing at the time of arraignment in cases of child sexual abuse. That means we can present our own witnesses and testimony.”

  “But we don’t have any witnesses,” I say.

  “Yes we do.”

  “Who?”

  “You. We can put you on the stand and you can tell the truth. And the judge may just throw the whole thing out.”

  “And that would be the end of it?”

  “If Moultrie has any sense, yes.”

  “Alright, suppose we do it that way. How would you see things unfolding?”

  “Moultrie will summarize what has happened, putting his own spin on the facts. He’ll put Tommy on the stand—no, he’ll probably just show the judge Tommy’s taped statement. He doesn’t want to give me a crack at the boy now. Anyway, I doubt if he’s put much of case together yet, and that’s why Moultrie’s the most vulnerable right now. If we can get up and give a scenario that is more plausible than his, the judge may not find probable cause.”

  “And what if he does find probable cause?”

  “Moultrie will take the case to the grand jury and seek a formal indictment. And that’s where we’re out of it. Moultrie has the whole show then. He can have witnesses saying they saw you and Tommy having sex on top of a cannon out at Fort Sumter and we can’t do a thing about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we won’t be there. The grand jury is the prosecution’s show.”

  “Doesn’t seem fair. You actually think Moultrie will get witnesses to lie like that about me?”

  “No, Glen, of course not. I was just emphasizing that we won’t know what’s being said at the grand jury. It’s a closed hearing and neither you nor I have a right to be there.”

  “Oh.”

  “Glen, listen to me. If this goes to the grand jury, you’re going to trial. It’s that simple. You have to tell the truth tomorrow at the preliminary hearing. Judge Cole knows me and I don’t think he particularly likes Moultrie. At least, that’s the impression he gave yesterday at your bail hearing. We’re never going to have a better chance of getting you out of this mess than tomorrow morning. Do you understand what I’m telling you? We don’t want this to go any further.”

  I take a sip of coffee and think about what Jim has just said. Is it that simple? Am I that close to putting all this behind me?

  So what it boils down to is this: I can clear myself by breaking my word to Tommy and Chris, which will destroy Chris’ wife. And from then on, every time she looks at their child, she will think of what her husband did with a boy while she slept just down the hall with their baby in her womb. I see dire consequences for mother and child should that scenario be allowed to play itself out. I’ll not be the playwright for such a disaster.

  “I can’t do it, Jim.”

  I wait for him to explode and tell me I deserve what I get. To tell me to get another lawyer. Or better yet, be my own counsel, since I’m obviously not going to follow anyone’s advice but my own. But, to my surprise, Jim smiles.

  “Okay, Glen. I knew you’d say that. But I had to let you know where we stand. Just so you know that it could end tomorrow.”

  “I understand. But I can’t do it. I won’t.”

  “We’ll be going to trial, then. I’ll have to go after the boy. That’s the only way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tommy’s lying, pure and simple. You didn’t do it. When Moultrie puts him on the stand, I’ll break him. You may not admit what’s really happened, but he will.”

  I set my mug of coffee on the table and get up. I look down at Jim. “Now I want you to listen to me,” I tell him. “I’m going to say this to you only once. Whatever happens, I don’t care what that boy says I’ve done to him, you will not vilify Tommy Jackson in court. That’s first.

  “Second, you will not directly or indirectly cause me to break my word to Chris Manning. That means you will not force Tommy to reveal that he and Chris Manning had sex.

  “Those are my conditions, Jim. If you can defend me and stay within those guidelines, fine. If you can’t, well that’s fine, too. I’ll get a lawyer who can.”

  Jim stands and looks me in the eye. That damn poker face of his. I can’t believe I’ve just been this gruff with my lawyer—the man I have trusted to get me out of this mess. But he might as well know how I feel.

  What’s this? He’s smiling again.

  “You’re real
ly going to make me earn my pay, aren’t you?” he says to me. “Well, I always did like a challenge. But now it’s my turn to give you my conditions.” He puts a finger in my chest. He’s not blinking. And he’s no longer smiling, either. “I give you my word that I will stay within those guidelines. I don’t know how, but I’ll build a defense around them. But you’ve got to give me your word that as long as those two conditions are met, you will cooperate fully with me. No matter what, you don’t second-guess me. You let me be the lawyer. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  We shake hands and I suddenly feel as if I don’t deserve a friend like this. Most men would have just told me to go to hell and walked out.

  It’s a few minutes past noon. Jim is gone. Benjamin and Suzanne are taking a nap in his bed. And I’m alone here in my study.

  Jim said it was time for him to hit the books. He knows very little about the nature of sex abuse cases. He still cannot understand Tommy’s motivation for accusing me. I’m not sure I fully understand it myself. But this is how I explained it to him:

  In a very real sense, Tommy and I are trying to do the same thing. We are both trying to protect Chris. I’m not telling because I am bound by my word to protect Chris’ memory as far as his wife is concerned. And I don’t think Tommy realizes it, but I’m also trying to keep my promise to him. But he is telling (that I did it) because he blames me for Chris’ death. And he will not say that Chris abused him because he doesn’t believe Chris did abuse him. Even in death, Tommy loves Chris and he will not betray that love. And he’s going to get even with me for taking his friend from him.

  And as far as books go, Jim seems to think that Moultrie is going to try and use my writings on adolescent sexuality against me. When they searched my home, Carter even took the box of research materials for my dissertation I had stored up in the attic. Unfortunately, there were some items in that box that could be incriminating, though easily enough explained. But Jim called all this stuff “collateral evidence” and said not to worry because the judge would never allow Moultrie to present it to the jury. It simply doesn’t pertain to the case at hand.

  I hope he’s right.

  * * *