A Sister's Survival

by Cydney Rax

  “In the State of Texas, that’s a serious allegation, Mrs. Taylor,” the judge continued. “The Penal Code states that if the defendant has had sex with a ‘child,’ and a child is anyone under the age of seventeen—”

  “She’s twenty.”

  “But when did the act begin?”

  “She was over seventeen.”

  “Do you know that for sure?”

  Burgundy was tempted to lie, but in reality, she had no idea when the incidents began. She didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know, nor could she imagine her husband conducting any deviant predatory behavior with an underage female. She knew what Elyse claimed, and fear made her hope that it wasn’t completely true.

  “I don’t know the exact dates or anything like that.”

  “Like I was saying,” the judge told her, “if your husband had sex with the victim without consent, if he threatened her in any way, through physical violence or otherwise, or if the victim is powerless against the defendant in that he was in charge of taking care of the victim such as being a health care provider, clergyman, public assistant, or as an employee of a facility in which the victim resides—”

  “Okay, getting back to the reason that I’m here.” Burgundy coughed and cleared her throat. “In light of the complaint of sexual assault with a minor, I also think the accusations are very serious. They’d have very terrible consequences for both parties involved. And because of this—”

  Burgundy looked at the DA and the judge. “Is this conversation being taped?”

  The judge held up her cell phone. “Take a look, my dear.”

  Burgundy boldly grabbed the woman’s phone and was satisfied to see that they weren’t being recorded. The DA performed the same gesture. Feeling relieved, Burgundy resumed her speech.

  “How about we strike a plea deal? We would not want this type of thing to go before a jury. The courts are already very backed up. This thing could be dragged out for another year to two years. Honestly, I don’t want to endure a long trial, and I’d never want to waste the taxpayer’s time and money. And of course, since you’re up for reelection I’d be happy to give a sizeable donation for your campaign. If we could simply put our heads together . . .

  Burgundy hoped they wouldn’t think she was bribing them. No! In her heart she was saving her husband, her livelihood. Besides, supporting an elected official wasn’t anything new for Nate and Burgundy. They’d already done so twice before, and in her mind this offer wasn’t anything different.

  “May I interrupt, Burgundy?” the DA said. “You and I go back a long way; we’ve bumped into each other at different charity events, our kids have played together, etc., but of course, we’ve never had to deal with anything like this before.”

  “I know, Randall. It’s weird and it’s very frustrating the way life can suddenly change.”

  “That’s true. Yet I still have to do my job, right?” He asked. “I still have to make sure I’m not getting messed up by trying to help you out, right?”

  “Of course, sir,” Burgundy insisted. She assumed Randall wanted to assist her the best way that he could, but she felt afraid on the inside. Things that did not go her way made her feel uneasy, and she wished she could change the circumstances.

  “I want to ask a couple of questions,” he said to her. “Think you can handle it?”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “Do you know if a weapon was ever used in any instances of the sexual assault?”

  “Absolutely not. I’ve never heard at any time that my husband pulled out a gun on her. He’d never do anything like that.”

  “How about if a date rape drug was used?”

  “Are you serious, Randall? We don’t have things like that sitting around the house. That’s crazy.”

  “All right.” The DA continued to probe by asking several more questions. When Burgundy emphatically responded no to each of them, he wanted to know, “Is the victim insane?”

  Burgundy’s eyes widened, and immediately she wished that they hadn’t. Body language revealed everything that speech would not. She calmed down and allowed her eyes to flutter as if in deep thought.

  “That one I don’t know.” She was afraid that once they found out Elyse went to therapists, then they’d request recorded evidence about anything the girl might have revealed to them. What if she contradicted everything Burgundy had just stated during their meeting?

  “I’m sorry, Randall, I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”

  “You don’t know if Elyse is crazy or not?”

  “Ha! Sometimes I think my entire family is nuts. You’ve met a few of them. Quite frankly, a lot of unsettling things happen within the family, but that doesn’t mean that—”

  “Fine, Burgundy. One last question. Do you believe that your husband is a threat to the general public? Or would you say that what happened with him was an isolated, domestic type of sexually inappropriate behavior?”

  “Randall, I swear to you, no other employee, no customer, no family member has ever filed a complaint against Nate. About anything. And this incident only began after she came to live with us when she was fourteen. Prior to that we never had any issues between her and my husband. They got along very well from what I can recall. So this is definitely an isolated case, and he is not a threat to any other woman.”

  “I see.” The DA nodded. “Again, what precisely do you want out of this, Burgundy?”

  “If it ends up being very serious,” she said in a shaky voice, “I want him to get probation or no jail time.”

  “None?”

  “Or at least very little jail time as possible.” Burgundy imagined her husband chained up, him wearing an orange jumpsuit, him being locked up, isolated, and treated like a worthless individual . . . like he’d sunk to the bottom of a totem pole. And suddenly her heart began to panic. She felt like she could not breathe.

  No! She couldn’t bear to let it happen.

  She grabbed her purse and tried to sound strong. “I’m prepared to write out a c-c-check to any institution that you wish. I-I-um, of course, this money would be looked upon as the payment of a fine, which I’m very willing to do.”

  “How much are we talking?” the judge asked just to see what she’d say.

  “I can get my hands on three million, but no more than that.”

  Judge Mallow smirked, but the DA didn’t.

  “That’s the highest I can go, DA. And please keep in mind, I can’t afford for any of this information to be leaked. The publicity would kill our businesses, and in order for me to recoup the losses I will need to keep them all open. As you know, we give free barber cuts to all the underprivileged boys and girls right before they return to school every fall semester. So once this is all over with, I’ll need you to seal the court documents.”

  “Mrs. Taylor,” the judge said.

  “Please, call me Burgundy.”

  “All right, Burgundy. The DA has gotten your thoughts about this. He’s heard your suggestion. It’s going to be up to him to make a decision. But I must say no matter how things end up, I recommend that Mr. Taylor seek psychological counseling. All the payments in the world won’t help whatever is going on inside of his head. And you, you yourself need to be careful. You’re putting yourself out over a man whom you don’t really know.”

  “Excuse me,” Burgundy said in a chilly voice. “Judge Mallow, if I heard you correctly, you are assuming that I don’t know my own husband?”

  “With all due respect, if you didn’t believe these accusations against him, I can’t see how you in good conscience would hit us up for such a deal.”

  “What? It happens all the time. Payment doesn’t mean admission of guilt. It’s something people do to get rid of the case, to make it go away. To keep it from going to trial, you know this.”

  “I know it, but somehow, ma’am, I think you know more than what you’re telling. And, like I said before, you just don’t know the man.”

  “Well, um, not only do I k
now Nate, see, I-I care about him. I know his good side. More importantly, this whole thing impacts our girls. And a lot is weighing on my shoulders right now. I have to make sure they are well taken care of.” Burgundy could not believe she was in the DA’s office having this type of conversation. If she had to choose between her own drama and Alita’s, for the first time ever, she’d trade places with her.

  “I-I don’t know what the future holds,” Burgundy continued. “And that makes me very afraid, if you want to know the truth. If we can come to an agreement together, this way I will have some sort of idea of how things can play out. I’ve always considered myself a decent negotiator and an even better gambler. And I always know when to hold ’em. I know when to fold ’em too. It’s not time for me to walk away or run just yet.”

  “It sounds like you want to hold onto and protect your investments. Plural.” Judge Mallow had a wry smile on her face. She was used to the Burgundy Taylors of the world: those who believed that their money, power, and influence could buy their way out of anything. Burgundy figured Randall had the judge attend the meeting to keep her honest. But she honestly did not care. She desperately needed all the help she could get from whomever could give it to her. And before the meeting concluded, the DA and Burgundy verbally struck a deal. But it would take a while to work out the details. Burgundy thanked them for their time and left the office with much on her mind.

  She arrived home and got dressed so she could prepare to greet the nanny that she’d recently hired. Burgundy was no fool. She always planned ahead. And her most recent legal issues required her to make sure the girls were taken care of in all kinds of ways.

  The woman’s name was Elizabeth. Everyone called her Liz. She’d been working for them for a couple of weeks, and the girls loved her. Liz was fifty-five, old enough to be Natalia and Sid’s grandmother. And she was fifty pounds overweight. She was short, round, and jolly. Burgundy made sure that the woman she hired would not be much to look at. Plus she could recall when her husband claimed that “fat” women weren’t his type.

  Burgundy was trying to survive in an increasingly difficult world. What was true? What was safe?

  She still recalled the day when she first interviewed Liz at the house.

  “Liz, I have a strict protocol that I need you to follow regarding the girls. Here it is,” she said and handed her a two-page document.

  Liz glanced over it and shrugged. “Everything seems doable.”

  “Good. I also need you to sign this paper.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a confidentiality and nondisclosure agreement.”

  “Why do you want me to sign that?”

  “Well, there are things such as family medical histories and other private information that we don’t want to be disclosed. To anybody. For any reason. We will give you passwords to computers, etc., that have to do with the girls. There are other things you might hear or see while working here. I need you to understand that what goes on in this house stays in this house.”

  Elizabeth looked confused.

  “Let me explain. In times past, we’ve had encounters with the media, and some of our competitors were caught sniffing around in our garbage trying to steal trade secrets.” Burgundy made up that explanation on the spot. “You are not allowed to speak to the press.”

  Although it spooked her, Liz gave a casual shrug.

  “I’m just here to do my job, ma’am.”

  “The first order of business is signing this agreement, all right, Liz?”

  Liz signed and dated it.

  “Great job! Welcome aboard.”

  * * *

  A week after her meeting with Randall Burkett, she received a phone call from his office. He asked if she could meet with him and the judge in her chambers. Burgundy canceled all her other appointments and drove downtown.

  “Hi,” Burgundy said and greeted Randall and Judge Mallow. “I hope you have good news for me.”

  “Well, depends on how you look at it,” replied the judge. She studied some notes and gazed thoughtfully at Burgundy. “We have reviewed your proposal in great detail, Burgundy. But we want to make a counteroffer,” she said. “D.A Burkett and I have thought long and hard about this case and we understand your concerns and agree that you’ve made wonderful contributions to the community. But quite frankly, unwanted sexual attention is like an incurable disease that if untreated, it may grow into a cancer, a cataclysmic situation that will undoubtedly impact far too many people.”

  “Is that a metaphor for something? I’m not quite understanding—”

  “A young woman’s life has just about been ruined.”

  Burgundy frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

  The DA stepped in. “Elyse Reeves is going to need support. All kinds of support. From long-term counseling designed to making sure she doesn’t suffer from PTSD to watching out for her so that she doesn’t exhibit the signs of deep depression and suicide, to trying to make sure she doesn’t succumb to drug and alcohol dependency as a way to cope. She may seem fine now, but one doesn’t know what her future holds.”

  “Okay, you are thinking of long-term psychological and emotional help. That’s no problem. What’s your counteroffer?”

  “We are advising you to set up an interest-bearing trust fund for Elyse. The amount will be three million five, plus a total of one million dollars that you will give to our favorite charities.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “We’ve very serious,” the judge replied.

  “But why won’t you accept my original offer?” Burgundy asked. “And why are you trying to force me to pay my sister that kind of money? That’s a lot of money!”

  “Because you swore to us about how much you believed in and love your husband . . . because you let us know that you have so much at stake, a lot to lose, way more than four point five million dollars. Because you insisted in no uncertain terms that this case should not go to a jury trial, and so on, that you’re willing to give us three million dollars to keep all of that from happening.”

  “This is ridiculous. It’s insane.”

  “What’s so insane about it?” the DA asked.

  “Right,” Judge Mallow cut in. “Because as I see it, you want your financial offer to help everyone except the true victim. Your sister. Your flesh and blood.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Oh, but the facts suggest that it is true. Did you for one second offer to do anything on the girl’s behalf? Pay for her college tuition? Provide her her own housing or transportation? Isn’t she struggling to make ends meet working at your restaurant, earning not even ten bucks an hour? Isn’t she living with you and has become subjected to involuntary servitude or something to that effect?”

  “That’s a total lie. She’s not a slave. Who have you been talking to? And why would you believe them over me?”

  “You came to us about this situation,” the judge replied. “A situation that you are inclined to manipulate and work out for your benefit. And there’s nothing wrong with people wanting things to work out for their good. It’s just that I believe other people that are involved should also get something out of the deal. Primarily the one that’s hurting the most and who actually has more to lose than you do.”

  “Elyse?”

  “Bingo.” The judge’s voice was sympathetic, and she stared at Burgundy as if to ask, Why don’t you feel the same way that I do?

  “I hear what you’re saying,” Burgundy said. “But we still haven’t totally investigated what happened. What if she’s lying about anything? Or about everything? Women lie.”

  “Do they?”

  “W-why, of course women lie. There are plenty of so-called victims who make up stories because their sole objective is to get paid. They’re willing to play a role for that check. And actually, I can see Alita behind the scenes putting Elyse up to this. My sister is very hard up for cash and I wouldn’t put it past her. Plus a lot of people that point fingers
at others tend to be just as guilty as the one that they’re accusing.”

  “Is that what you really think is going on, Mrs. Taylor?” The judge continued to stare Burgundy down until she could no longer look her in the eye.

  “Let’s just wrap this up since you’re in such a hurry. The first thing you should do is convince your husband to sign a confession.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, that’s what will be needed to avoid the jury trial that you say you don’t want.”

  “What would it all entail?”

  “Get your husband to confess to his crimes in writing. Make sure that you speak with your attorneys about this and that Mr. Taylor understands everything that he is stating. If he pleads guilty in writing we will accept it. Plus we’ll need evidence that the money for Elyse has been set up in that trust fund. Can you get this done as soon as possible?”

  “Oh, my,” Burgundy said. “This is getting to be too much for me to think about.”

  “That’s how it goes, Mrs. Taylor. We deal with this type of thing day in and day out,” Randall explained. “Anyway, the next important thing to do is to get the girl into an adequate living situation. No way should she be residing in the same house as him. And get him into counseling. Think about the worst-case scenarios because when the public finds out about this, you need to plan on how to handle it from a PR standpoint. That’s what we, what I, feel is the best course of action . . . for now.”

  It felt like she’d been backed in a corner and surrounded by a gang of enemies.

  As she pondered the turn of events, Burgundy hated that someone else got to call the shots about her life. She resented that how she felt did not seem to matter. And the more she thought about Alita, the more Burgundy couldn’t stand her.

  “I thought my initial deal was fine. Now this. How did you come to this conclusion?” she asked.

  The judge smiled. “Well, to be honest, your DA buddy had to do a little investigating. He had a little talk with the victim and the woman who has been caring for her. Randall got their statements.”

  “Alita?”

  “Yeah, her,” Randall spoke up. “Burgundy, she let me in on all the things she’s had to go through in dealing with the entire situation. We discussed a possible trust fund. And right now I think that it’s only fair that the victim gets a big financial settlement for what she’s put up with. All kinds of sexual abuse since the age of fourteen.”