It was a bad part of town. Not the kind of area I usually drove through. With a light rain falling and being so dark and dreary out it was hard to see out of the side windows. I was looking for a very seedy bar. A place I had never been before. But you do what you have to do. That's the way life is.

I spotted it ahead, 'Pete's tavern.' I slowly pulled up to the curb. I was a nervous wreck, hands shaking, sweating under my jacket. The bar was truly a hole in the ground. A run down old building in a run down neighborhood. I reached into my glove compartment and took out the hand gun. I wasn't even sure what kind it was. The man at the pawn shop told me it was a 9mm I think. Hell I don't remember. I did get the right bullets for it. That's all that counted.

I loaded it with six bullets and played with the safety on it, moving it back and forth. I wanted to make sure I had it in the right position. Then I put it in my coat pocket along with the remainder of the bullets. I doubted if I needed any more but if I did, I'd have them. I was wearing gloves like it would make a difference.

I opened the car door and stepped out. I was extremely nervous but knew I had to hold my composure. I had to see this through, it was a promise that I had made. As the rain ran down over my rimmed hat I walked toward the tavern, my hands in my pockets. Just before reaching the building I spotted the car. The car they showed pictures of in the court room. They were here, the bastards were here.

I opened the door to the saloon. There were maybe a half dozen people in there. The place smelled like stale beer and cigarettes. It was almost enough to make me puke. The few patrons just looked at me not really saying anything. Then I spotted them, sitting at a little round table looking about half drunk. They looked at me and started laughing. They got up and came toward me while the other people just looked on. I heard the bartender tell them he didn't want any trouble. They just told him to shut up.

These two men... no, not men; that's too good a name for scum like them. Two soon-to-be-dead mother-fuckers would be a better name. They walked up to me standing maybe six feet away and said, "What do you want, little old man?"

I only stood about 5' 7" and weighed about 150 pounds. So being called short or little was nothing new and being sixty-eight years old wasn't exactly young. I looked at these two pieces of shit and said, "I came to get revenge for my family."

They both just started laughing and then the big guy pulled out a large knife. I remember Becky telling about seeing one like it. He looked at me and said, "Get the fuck out of here before I cut you to pieces, grandpa." He was right, I was a grandpa.

The bartender again yelled, "Big Jim, put that knife away before somebody gets hurt. I don't need no more trouble in my bar. Now please put it away." So that's what they called him - Big Jim... I looked up at him staring at his eyes, he was a real bastard. Just dark and mean looking. Nothing but darkness when staring at him. All I could see in his eyes was evil.

He repeated what he said earlier. "Get the fuck out of here, grandpa, before you get hurt." He was still holding his knife. I think he remembered seeing me in the courtroom.

I reached into my pocket and took out my revolver and unlocked the safety. Then I pointed it at Big Jim. "What the fuck!" was all Jim could say... I heard his buddy say, "Jim, that's the old man that said he was going to get us. Remember at the trial?"

The pervert looked at me and said, "Hey, man, we didn't mean to hurt her. We was just having a little fun. We didn't mean her no harm." He was scared. He kept rattling off words, anything he could think of to save his sorry ass. It wasn't going to work. Before I left he would be a dead man. "It was Big Jim's idea, I just went along." Big Jim back-handed the pervert he called Gimp because he walked with a limp. Must of had trouble with one of his legs.

Jim spoke to me. "Hey, old man, the courts found us innocent. There were no witnesses. So I suggest you get your sorry ass out of here right now."

I have had enough. I looked at Big Jim and back over to his companion Gimp. Then I gave them my little speech.

"You two sorry excuses for human beings, you ruined my granddaughter's life. You two sorry mother-fuckers beat up her boyfriend, then took her out of the car and raped her. She was only an eighteen year old girl who was just going to her senior prom."

I had tears in my eyes as I continued. She was just a happy teenager who was out on a date. Just because they drove down the wrong road did not give you the right to do what you did to her. I know that she told the truth, that you pulled her out of the car and then brought her into this dump and raped her on that very pool table over there. She yelled and screamed for you to let her go but, no, you just had to fuck her. The rest of the sorry bastards in this bar stood up for you."

The bartender backed away. He was there. He saw what happened. Probably a few of these patrons were here at the time too. I should shoot them all but maybe it's better if they live with their guilt. I was surprised that everyone in the bar just kept quiet.

I have three grown kids. They each have families of their own. Cindy, my oldest daughter, and her husband have three kids. Becky, their oldest was kind of my pride and joy. She was my first grandchild and of course we, my wife and I, probably spoiled her the most. We love all our grandchildren but the first is the one you have a tendency to remember.

Life for us was great. My wife and I lived a pretty complete life. We did everything with family. We all lived in the same town or at least close. So we had a lot of family gatherings. Family was everything to my wife and I. Sure we traveled and went on cruises but we were always glad to get home. It's true what they say, "Home is where the family and the heart is." My wife probably spoke to the kids everyday or at least almost everyday. We always had someone visiting every weekend. The grandkids always loved coming here. Grandma and grandpa spoiled them. They knew that grandma could cook and they loved homemade cooking. We also had the latest games and DVD's here. They played on the computer and we even played board games with them. They loved the attention we gave them.

That was until my Mary passed away last year. We all took it hard. She was just one of those special people. Always did everything for everyone. I lived by myself for awhile. It was lonely, very lonely. My son asked me to move in with him. I thought I would be intruding too much into his family's life. Then one day my daughter-in-law came to see me. She told me that everyone was worried about me being alone and that I needed family around more often. Even though I was her father-in-law she loved me as much as her own father who had passed away. She convinced me to move in with them.

They had a big house and I had my own bedroom. It was a little different at first, with everyone trying to do everything for each other until one day at dinner I called a time out. I told everyone that I loved living with them but that they needed to live their normal lives. They didn't have to include me in everything and they could have friends over and I didn't have to be there. I said that the kids could play their music. I didn't want to be considered a guest but as part of the family.

After that day, everything changed. The tension was gone and everything was going great. I did my thing, sometimes with the family, sometimes not. I had sold my house and had an auction to get rid of most of my stuff. I was retired now and didn't need everything anymore. I let all the kids have what they wanted of our belongings. One wanted a refrigerator, another the washer and dryer. There was still plenty of junk to be sold. After 44 years of marriage Mary and I had accumulated a lot. The girls all divided Mary's personal belongings. She had promised certain pieces of jewelry to different people. Whatever clothes of Mary's no one wanted we donated to the local shelter and Salvation Army.

It was a big auction, even after the kids took what they wanted or needed. I got rid of pretty much everything, even the lawn mover and tools, after the men of the families completed their own tool sets.

I divided the money from the auction four ways. One-fourth for each daughter/son and their spouse, the fourth was for me. They could divide that fourth again after my death. That put all my kids on Easy Street. It made life a lot easier for each of them. As for me, I was happy. I had my pension, Social Security, and a hefty savings account.

Cindy, my eldest daughter (she preferred "eldest" to "oldest") called and was all excited about her daughter Becky going to the prom. Becky had turned eighteen and would be heading for college after her senior year. That following Saturday, Becky and her boyfriend Ryan headed to the prom. Cindy told us how gorgeous Becky looked. She was one beautiful lady.

That evening we got a call from Cindy. She was hysterical. She said Becky had been raped and was at the hospital. I rushed down to be with the family. When I got there everyone was a little calmer. The police were there taking statements. Of course Cindy and her husband were crying. The police said they had two suspects in custody. Charges would be filed in the morning. We then went in to see Becky. She was very distraught and crying. After she calmed down she explained what had happened.

Becky's story:

Ryan and I were headed out to eat. We had a really nice time at the dance. Ryan didn't know his way around town very well and took the wrong exit. We were in kind of a dirty part of town. We got worried and rolled up our windows and locked our doors. We saw two men standing in front of a dingy looking bar so Ryan rolled down his window to ask for directions. The man told Ryan to pull off the road so he wouldn't be blocking traffic and he would give him directions where to go. Ryan pulled up into the parking lot. The man reached in through the door and unlocked the vehicle and pulled Ryan out. I started screaming when this guy walking with a limp pulled me out of the car. I was kicking and yelling until the man holding Ryan pulled out a big knife and said he would "cut Ryan the fuck up if I didn't stop screaming." I'm sorry for swearing but that's what he said.

He asked Ryan for his wallet and took his money. He said, "A fucking fifty dollars. How you expect to get in her panties spending only fifty dollars on her. The whores around here charge more then that," and then he laughed.

Ryan told him to keep the money just let us go. But the big guy laughed and hit Ryan in the stomach. Ryan fell to the ground and the big man kept kicking and kicking him. I started yelling again and the man with the limp put his knife to my throat and said one more sound out of me and he would cut my throat and I would never speak again. I was crying, it was awful. They left Ryan lying there on the concrete and pulled me into the dingy, dirty bar.