Chapter 1: Why Me?_3

Eric Stewart drove carefully home on the evening of November eighth. If he got a traffic ticket, he would pay it, but the others in his office might find out anyway. When you prosecute in traffic court, a ticket could be an embarrassment. With the weather blustery and wet, driving carefully was a good idea, anyway. When he got to his apartment, the answering machine was blinking. The third message was from Carolyn. They were in choir together, and he was godfather to one of her sons.

“Eric? This is Carolyn Pierce. I’ve something related to your job. Could you call me at home after five? Thanks.”

‘Why me?’ he thought. Everybody in Chicago had a friend who could fix things. Want a tree removed from in front of your house or a pothole fixed? You didn’t call the city; you spoke to a friend who had a friend who could get the job done. Well, if cop fixed a traffic ticket, it was a minor offense even if someone interested in stopping it found out. If a prosecutor fixed a traffic ticket, it was a conflict-of-interest violation of legal ethics. Guys did it, but he knew he’d be caught if he did it. When there was no other way out, he paid his friends’ fines rather than take the risk of fixing their tickets. He just hoped it wasn’t DUI. That required court appearance; you couldn’t just pay the fine. Well, he called Carolyn and she answered.

“Who has the ticket?”

“Nothing like that,” she said. “I have a student in class who was raped. She needs to talk with somebody. She’s balking at cops, but she said okay when I said I knew somebody in the State’s Attorney’s Office.”

‘Why me?’ He was in the State’s Attorney’s Office, but not in the sex-crimes section.

“Raped in class?” That didn’t sound possible. “Your class?”

“No. She’s in my class three days a week, but she wasn’t there when she was raped. Apparently, it was after a dance.” That sounded more possible, if less attractive to prosecute.

“Date rape?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“It’s not really my department, Carolyn.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “And my job description doesn’t involve law enforcement, either. But she came to me, and I tried to do something. Can you talk to her? I thought here.” Well, Carolyn had asked him to be Paul’s godfather. He enjoyed the boys, and he could do something for a friend of a friend after all.

“Well, the longer it waits, the worse it looks. When did it happen?”

“Saturday,” she said.

“Ouch. You want it there? Tonight?” He might not prosecute rape cases, but he heard gossip from guys that did. The ideal victim screamed while it occurred. Preferably the victim was a white girl on the way home from church; the perp was a black stranger with a record; the location was a dark alley.

“I don’t think I could get her tonight. Tomorrow? I’ll serve you some dinner.”

“And twin time?” he asked. Might as well get something out of it.

“That’s no problem. Tomorrow, Bill will go to the finance -committee meeting.” Bill tended to prefer dealing with the kids himself. Carolyn was always willing to have somebody else deal with them.

“Okay. Six?”

“Thanks, Eric. I owe you one.” Or he owed her one less.

Tuesday, he considered raising the issue with Margaret Murphy, the head prosecutor for rapes. He didn’t, however, have any firm information, even the name. He’d speak to Murphy when he could tell her something. He left the office on the dot. When he got to the Pierce home, he couldn’t see which cars, if any, were in the garage. He parked on the street instead of blocking the driveway. Before he got to the door, though, he heard kids’ screams. That sounded like Bill was home. He rang the bell, and Bill came to the door while carrying John upside down.

“State’s Attorney’s Office,” he said. “We have reports of serious child abuse here.”

“Well,” Bill said, “they abuse us horribly, but nobody here is serious.” He came in and closed the door. “This is Miss Wharton.” Carolyn had said that she had a student, and she’d said that the student had been raped. She hadn’t said that the student was a stunning beauty.

“Eric Stewart. I’m sorry for the humor. I didn’t know you were here yet. I’m Paul’s godfather as well as the position you’ve heard about.” He was babbling, and he hung his parka in the closet to hide his confusion.

Well, there were the boys as a focus of attention to avoid the other problems. Soon, there was a dinner, too. Bill sat at the head of the table. Carolyn, as usual, sat with her back to her picture and the boys sat between them. Miss Wharton sat between Bill and him. She had a lovely profile, and she turned her attention from the food to the kids and back again. She barely looked at him.

After Bill left for the meeting of the finance committee, he took the boys into the downstairs john to wash their hands. Then they all sat on the sofa to read some books. Miss Wharton stayed to help Carolyn clear. Then they both came in to watch him and the boys. Finally, Carolyn called time.

The boys kissed him good night, and then kissed Miss Wharton good night. He was a little jealous of them. Miss Wharton called the boys by name. A lot of people got them confused. It seemed to him that it was more myth than experience. ‘They’re twins. So there is no way to tell them apart.’ There were all sorts of ways to tell them apart, even physically. Behaviorally, it was even easier. His godson was the leader. He kissed Miss Wharton first, which meant that he saw that kiss as desirable. Well, Uncle Eric agreed.

“She wants me down here before the conversation gets serious,” Carolyn said. Well, they should discuss something else while the boys dawdled. ‘have you always been such a beauty?’ might not be appropriate. He finally thought of something.

“Well, without getting into anything substantial, maybe I could get some background. You’re a student of Mrs. Pierce?”

“Yeah. Freshman Economics.”

“You’re a freshman?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“18?” The age of the victim -- especially a teen-age victim -- was important in rape cases. That wasn’t a personal question.

“19. I had my birthday this September. You’re a State’s attorney?” Finally, an answer which didn’t feel like pulling teeth. And, while it was generally more polite to talk about the girl than about himself, she probably dreaded the talking about herself which would come up all too soon.

“An assistant State’s attorney. The State’s Attorney is Carey. Illinois is divided into judicial districts, most of them covering more than one county. Cook is nearly half the state, population-wise, and the district court is about the largest court of first instance in the nation. The State’s Attorney’s office handles all the prosecutions for any criminal cases in the county, not counting federal prosecutions.” He was sounding like a civics text, but he didn’t know what else to say. “We go from parking tickets to murder. There are one hell of a lot of us, and we mostly specialize. I don’t handle...” She had specifically asked to avoid the subject of rape until Carolyn came back. “That is to say, I prosecute traffic cases.” What else was there to say? “When I’m not in the office, I sing in the church choir with Mrs. Pierce and am godfather to Paul.” She wasn’t going to help. Maybe he should read Horton to her until Carolyn got back.

“What other courses do you take?” he asked finally. She looked comfortable answering his factual questions as long as he stayed off the recent past. Finally, Carolyn started down the stairs. Well, how should the questioning be set up. They damn -well didn’t want Miss Wharton -- what was her name anyway? -- facing a panel consisting of Carolyn and himself.

“Look, you want her present. Do you want her close?” he asked. She nodded. “Why don’t you and she take the sofa while I get a chair?” When he was well away from the sofa, she went to it. He got a dining -room chair and sat in it. Carolyn sat down far enough from Miss Wharton to establish the latter’s independence, but close enough to be available.

“Look,” he began, “this is painful. I know it. But it’s not going to get less painful with more delay.”

“Mrs. Pierce tells me that you were raped,” he continued. “Tell me about it.”

“I was stupid...” That was the wrong way to begin. She was blaming herself, and the defense -- in the unlikely chance that this got to trial -- would be blaming her. She should start out blaming the perp.

“You were, are, a college freshman,” he explained. “That’s not being stupid; it might be being less cautious than an older woman might be. That’s not the point. Where were you? Who was with you? What did he do? Start where you want. If I need more details, I’ll ask for them.”

“I was at a dance with this boy. He had taken me there on a date. On the way home, he invited me to his apartment for a drink. I said yes. Anyway, one thing led to another. We were making out. I wanted him to stop, but he wouldn’t.” He could picture it, but she hadn’t articulated the key details.

“Did you tell him to stop? When?” he asked.

“When he took my panties off, and my pantyhose.” He could see it, and he wished he couldn’t. “He ignored me. Then, later, I found that he was naked, too. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t stop?”

“No.”

“You told him to stop?” That was one of the requirements.

“Yes,” she answered.

“There was intercourse? He was inside you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. That’s rape. Unless, of course, you’re married to him.”

“I’m not.” She was serious. He’d been too lawyerly.

“I didn’t think you were. It’s just the law. If you don’t like that, write your state legislator. Anyway, you’ve been saying ‘he.’ What was his name?”

“Jerry Lambert.”

“BMOC,” Carolyn said suddenly.

“Like Prof. Pierce says, he’s important.” She started to tear up. Well, he had enough to take to Murphy. He wouldn’t push her, except maybe for her first name. But she didn’t know he wasn’t going to push. She cried and Carolyn held her. After a bit, Carolyn looked like she was shielding the girl from him.

“Look,” he said, “I’m not the enemy.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“No, but Mama Bear was protecting you from me. Anyway, this isn’t the end. Did you report this to the police?”

“No.” Well, Murphy would talk to her on what he had. Speaking of a mama bear, that woman might appear for the state, but she felt like the advocate for the victims. Well, this girl needed an advocate.

“Well, you’re going to have to tell this all over again. At least you’ll be telling it to a woman. Can I make an appointment for you?”

“If you have to.”

“Look, I repeat. I’m not the enemy. This MF, Jerry, is. Nothing’s going to happen to him if you hide yourself away. We’re not putting you through this because we’re evil. He’s putting you through this because of what he did and because that’s the only way that he’ll suffer at all. Anyway, I know the woman at the State’s Attorney’s Office you should talk to. I don’t know whether she’s on trial tomorrow. How do I get in contact with you? And when? Are you going to be home tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to be home. I haven’t told Mom.” This didn’t sound good.

“Well, sometime, you’ll have to. Why don’t you give me your phone number, and when you’ll be home tomorrow. We’ll assume an appointment sometime Thursday. I’ll call you tomorrow night with the time and the room number. You know the County Building? It’s really the same building as City Hall, only we have the east side.” She wrote down the information she asked for and handed it to him. He checked it out of habit before pocketing it. It was a phone number and evening times.