Chapter 14: 1979-1980

It was two months before I got a note saying that Lilly would be coming up. I appreciated the notes; the heads up. It gave me a chance to get my thoughts together.

And then it was May 12th, 1979, and I was in the big room waiting for her. I knew from the corridor noise they were letting the visiting masses enter. She’d said in her letter that she’d be coming up early, at 9:00 a.m.; it was 9:00 a.m. now. I figured the early time thing was her wanting to be driving during daylight hours, not in the black of the desert night. I saw her enter and smile—weakly; she sure was a pretty thing. Her husband had for sure gotten lucky.

“Hi,” she said, and that kind of tentatively. She slowly, deliberately, took a seat across from me.

“And hi to you.”

“Chase, Valerie told me. My God Mister, what kind of man are you! Valerie said you were okay with her telling me about the bad day, the whole story, the real story.

“And she told me the reason why you wanted me to be in the know. Chase I’m here but I do not know what to say. All you’ve done and been through. Oh-my-God!”

“Just a guy protecting his wife and daughter. But like I told her. I needed someone to talk to who understood, where I was coming from, and would maybe back me a little when I needed to get a message across to them, or really to anybody that I needed to be getting a message across to. And like I also told her I trust you. You were straight up with me the last time you were here, and I really appreciated that.”

“Mister, and I very much appreciate your confidence in me, and I will do what I can, but coming up here a lot...”

“No, no, I don’t expect monthly visits to this hell hole; I don’t. But if it would be all right to write you, that would be a good thing for me.

“Can I ask, have you told your husband the untellable?”

“No, Valerie said you didn’t want me to say anything to anyone even him.”

“I do not. If I want him or anyone else to know, I will tell them, which trust me, will never happen. But maybe this, if he seems to be pressuring you to tell him stuff, call me or write me. Worst come to worst, I’ll tell him, but not you. Okay?” I said. “But again, ideally, no one but you need know.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “But if I might. On another subject.”

“Okay?” I said.

“Chase, knowing what I now know, it’s hard to see you as the bad guy, make that impossible. But you might wanna consider taking it down a notch; I mean the way you deal with her and talk to her. She wants to make things as right as might be, but she knows she never can unless you are onboard or need something that she can supply.”

“I told her that there was something, and hopefully she’ll try to help me out with it. I guess she didn’t say anything to you about that,” I said.

“You mean about her husband helping you to maybe get paroled.”

“So, she did tell you,” I said.

“Yes, but that’s him, not her. ‘She’ wants to make things right by you, and that by something that she herself can do,” said Lilly. I was nodding.

“Well, there is one thing, but she won’t do it.” I said.

“Okay?”

“She could give me back my fatherhood and install the other guy’s stepfatherhood. There is not anything else that means a damn thing to me that she can do for me, nothing,” I said. “And yes, I know that that would mean selling it to Jillian as well which would be hard as hell. I’m aware. But it’s a lot harder for me in here than her having to become a good salesperson!”

“Mister I for sure see where you’re coming from. Chase, you definitely—again considering what I now know—have the right to make that demand. You do. But, truthfully, Chase, I do not think that Valerie is up to the job of doing what you ask. She may even want to, not sure about that, but from the standpoint of pure ability to do something that hard; she’s not up to the task,” said Lilly.

“Maybe, but would she even try? Make the effort? I’ll tell you what I think. I think she wouldn’t even try, not seriously, because she doesn’t want to queer her relationship with her husband.

“No, I’m just going to have to settle for him doing what he can to get me paroled. I’ve rotted in here long enough. I mean look at me. Anyway, it is what it is.” Lilly Bach nodded.

“I will tell them what you have said, what you believe. I will, sir, I will.”

“That’s why I needed to have you be put in the know. So that they would know exactly how I feel and where I stand. I want out of here. Please, Lilly, make that as plain as possible; I’m desperate. I know the other thing will never happen. But if I can get out, maybe I’ll at least be able to see my kid once in a great while and hear about how she’s doing. I mean you know. Okay?”

“Yes,” she said.

Our two hours up my, hopefully, new in the know confidant was gone.

And then I got a visit from my lawyer. One thing about lawyers: they could kind of ignore visiting rules and limits. Numbers and times for visits were strictly limited in terms of family and friends, but lawyers, because of the nature of their work, were in another class altogether. Hence a month after my visit with Lilly, I got an unscheduled visit from William, and three days later by mister Herbert Cooper, himself.

“Your old friend Lilly Bach had dinner with a bunch of us some three weeks ago. She had a lot to say, and she said that you had a lot to say,” said William.

“Did she.”

“Yes. Everyone is surprised that you are letting Herbert try to get you paroled, especially me.”

“Yes, I’m eating my pride and self-respect and all hope of ever having even a rump-family just to get out of here. William, I’m dying in here. It’s literally killing me. You have no idea,” I said.

“Actually, I do have an idea. But to short shank all this talk. One: he is trying to work it out for you. I know because I’m in on the paperwork and the rest. Two: it’s still a long shot in this political climate. Three: does he have enough political clout to get it done, not sure, but I think it’s doubtful at this time—again, the politics. We should know in a few days; that’s the hope.”

“Shit! I was so hoping. But you say it’s still a long shot?”

“Yes, Frank Lutz got out mainly because his offense did not include a murder conviction. The word ‘murder’ puts a hold on parole requests almost automatically. It’s like the pols don’t want to be associated with any suggestion that they are soft on violent crime, but especially anything connected with, again, the word ‘murder’. At any rate, Herbert says he’s pulling out all the stops to get it done. I have to say that I am more than surprised at his level of enthusiasm—seriously!”

I was nodding but feeling low. “Well but there is still hope?” I said.

“Chase there is always that,” he said. “For the record, I know that Lilly took Valerie aside for some reason to talk to her about things, don’t know what, Valerie was crying when she came back in. She tried to hide it, but it was clear to me, and likely to others as well.”

“Cried did she? Well, to be perfectly honest, I don’t give a damn. I’ve done a lot more of that than she has, believe me. And now I hear you saying that I ain’t getting out.”

“I didn’t say that, but it is gonna be a tough nut.”

“Yeah, I get it. Well, I guess we’ll see.” And then the man was gone. He’d delivered his message. I thought it was interesting that Valerie was feeling down about the message that Lilly delivered to her personally. Interesting, but not unexpected, uh, Valerie’s reaction.”