Chapter 5

The fact that the video on my smart phone would be rated XXX didn’t mean it couldn’t be used as evidence. Judges and juries look at that kind of stuff all the time. I made two copies on thumb drives, one for Milton, and one for Harley. I knew the Chief would get a real charge out of it, and I also knew he was professional enough not to pass it around to his staff. Milton was bound by patient confidentiality standards.

I was hoping the only other person who would see it would be Bernadette Wilmer. I was fairly confident that her seeing Dagmar in action would convince her that it couldn’t possibly be Aunt Margie she was watching, and that the rough language was completely out of character. What she’d think about seeing me pumping my dick into my aunt’s box was up for grabs, but one thing that Wilmer wasn’t was thin-skinned.

I thought about hiring a computer graphics expert to blur out my face, but I was afraid altering the video in any way would call the whole thing into question. I figured I would rather deal with the disapproving looks than be accused of manufacturing evidence. Besides, it wasn’t as if I’d planned to do the deed with Dagmar when I set my smart phone on the mantel to ambush her. She was the one who started it.

The biggest downside I could foresee would be if we went to trial and old Bullock was allowed to see it, which, of course, he would be. I’m sure he’d look for some way to make it an ethics violation and try to have me censured, maybe even disbarred. Fucking one’s own client was, after all, very much frowned upon, but in this instance, it was the client’s sexual aggressiveness that was the issue being considered, and that’s what I was trying to demonstrate. Anyhow, as I had to keep reminding myself, Aunt Margie was my client, not Dagmar. Well, I was going to have to rely on Judge Wilmer to have my back if that happened. She has shown on more than one occasion that she isn’t shy about establishing a new legal precedent.

I called Aunt Margie from my office the next morning to ask how she was doing.

She seemed almost chipper as she said, “I’m feeling very well, thank you. Better than I felt when you showed up last night. I don’t know if it was the pill or the exhaustion, but I slept like a log for nearly ten hours! I don’t remember you leaving though. What time was that?”

“Oh, it was right after you took your medicine. So, you’re feeling healthy today? You feel like your anxiety is under control?”

“Seems to be. I do feel a little bit sore in my, um, female parts for some reason, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Do we need to meet to work on strategy today?”

I thought, Yeah, I’ll bet you’re sore, you vixen! You sure gave my equipment a major workout! It was a good thing that she couldn’t read my mind or see the grin on my face.

“No, not today, Aunt Margie. I think I’ve got everything in order, so I want you to just take it easy for a while. I don’t know if Dr. Milton has said anything, but he might want to admit you for two or three days of therapy, try to work out the role this Dagmar character is playing in your mind. Are you up for that?”

She hesitated, probably not too keen on the idea. “If you think I should, Marty. I suppose we need to have everything documented, don’t we?”

“Absolutely! I know it’s an inconvenience, but we need to have all the bases covered when we go before Judge Wilmer. I’ll call Milton now and tell him you’re willing to be admitted on a voluntary basis. That’ll look good on paper.”

Big sigh. “If you think it’s best.”

“I do, Aunt Margie. Talk to you later. Bye.”

My next step in preparing our case was a little trickier, and I wasn’t all that confident about how much cooperation I could expect. I was hoping to talk to several of the boys one-on-one and try to draw out their impressions on the difference in behavior between the Miss Brenner they did odd jobs for or took piano lessons from, and the Miss Brenner they were seduced by. I couldn’t imagine any of them were expecting the prim and proper lady they knew to suddenly turn cougar and ravage their bodies.

Talking about a sexual relationship is something most teenage boys would jump at enthusiastically if the listener was one of their friends, but with a grown-up, especially a grown-up in a position of authority, getting them to open up was going to be something else entirely.

I don’t like the idea of trying to coerce anyone, but if any of them refused to talk, I figured I could strongly hint at the likelihood of their being deposed. In a deposition, they’d be sworn in and be subject to penalties for lying. Besides, they’d have to spill it in front of several people, including a parent. I had the feeling they’d rather do it quietly, especially when I explained that I had no interest in coming after them for anything.

The first one I wanted to talk to was Denis Leary, the kid who was there when the cops arrested Aunt Margie and hauled her in. He was also the subject of a particularly graphic diary narrative by the infamous Dagmar.

Another tricky part was that, because he was only fifteen, I couldn’t officially interrogate him without a parent or guardian being present. I needed to get him alone and just have a conversation, secretly recorded, of course. I had no plans to enter the recordings into evidence ... in fact, there was no way Wilmer would allow it. I just wanted to show Harley and Dr. Milton that the two Miss Brenners were clearly different from each other in the eyes of Dagmar’s, uh, victims.

Dennis played in a summer baseball league, and I found him at practice at the city park field. When they wrapped up their practice, I pushed the record button on my tiny recorder, dropped it into my shirt pocket, followed him to his bike and asked, “Hey, Dennis, can I talk to you for a few minutes?”

He was immediately suspicious. “Well, um, Mr. Bullock said I shouldn’t talk to you.”