Chapter 78

Brock dreaded heading to the pregame media session. He knew no one would ask a single question about the game or the Nationals or the Dodgers. Instead, the only thing of interest to the media representatives would be what he'd said the day before – a conversation he had thought had been private.

"Play nice today," Meredith said as he headed toward the door to meet the car outside the service entrance.

Brock didn't speak but continued to gather up his belongings.

"I'm serious," Meredith continued. "I'm invoking the 'do as I say' rule. I want you to consider what you're saying. Be thoughtful and concise in your answers. Don't lose your cool. Those are my marching orders, Mister."

"Yes, Dear," Brock said dryly.

She gave him a kiss and pinched his butt.

"I'll see you after the game," she said. "I love you."

Brock returned the sentiment and headed off to the stadium. He found an envelope waiting for him when he sat down at his locker.

"That came by courier a little while ago," Matt said. "He asked if you were here. We told him you weren't and Cynthia shuffled him out because he wasn't affiliated with the team. She brought that back and left it for you."

Brock looked at the paper and frowned when he saw it was from The Honorable Vivian Lopez, House of Representatives, United States Capitol, Washington, D.C.

"Crap," Brock said.

"They probably revoked your citizenship," Josh cracked. "Seriously, guy, that was pretty awesome. 'Fuck your tricky politics.' I love it."

Brock rolled his eyes and opened the envelope. There was a single page inside. The letter wasn't typewritten but instead had been written by hand.

"Mr. Miller, (it read)

_"I wish to apologize for how our meeting went yesterday. It was the last thing I wanted, not only because of the video taken but because of the respect I have for you.

"I would, however, like to address what you said. Mr. Miller, when your case was appealed, I had been in Washington for only a short time. I was elected after your conviction and had only just been sworn into office when I received the information from your representative, Miss Collingwood.

"The simple truth is that I lacked the power or the prestige to lend any weight to your case. It is not that I was disinterested. It was that I believed I was powerless to help in any meaningful way.

"That said, you are absolutely correct. I should have done something. At the very least, I owed your attorney a phone call to offer my support if she thought of a way I could be of use. At the very least, I should have written to you in order to ensure you knew that you were not alone. I should have done this not because you were a constituent but because it would have been the proper thing for me to do.

"You are also correct that I received campaign contributions from numerous individuals affiliated with Tom Anderson and his holdings. And you are correct when you say that those contributions were influential in my election. I had my staff calculate the total Mr. Anderson sent to my campaign as soon as I received the documentation on your case. Although I was unable to return the money immediately (it was spent), over the next year I moved $248,133 into an escrow account as it came in through donations. I waited until Mr. Anderson's accounts had been frozen and the civil disposition was in place before I returned the money.

"I disassociated myself from Mr. Anderson and his followers immediately and I returned the money as soon as I was certain that it would not allow him to flee custody. I would suppose that the money Mr. Anderson contributed is now in your bank account. If you wish to see the documentation of the financial transactions, please contact my office. I will make them available to you.

"I did not write this letter in order to refute your assertions. You were correct in almost everything you said to me. I only wanted to ensure that you have all the facts in place before you paint me with the same brush as Tom Anderson and his ilk.

"I have enjoyed watching you play baseball since you arrived in Durham, N.C. I carefully watched your rise through the Indians organization and I was thrilled when I learned that you were to play for my favorite team. I hope, in time, we might be able to meet under more pleasant circumstances – not because I wish your forgiveness for my inaction but because I am a fan.

"Warmest regards,

"Viv Lopez_

"Crap," Brock muttered again as he reread the letter.

"Covering her ass?" Al asked. Brock looked up to find his friend had wandered over.

"No," Brock replied. "At least I don't think so. She explained that she was only in office a few weeks when Lynn contacted her and that she didn't believe she would be of help. She also gave back all the money she got from them as soon as it was possible. Now I sort of feel like a jerk."

"You shouldn't," Al told him. "She could have done something. You were right about that. There were a lot of people who could have done something. Come on, it's our turn to face the jackals."

Brock nodded, stuck the envelope in his jacket pocket and followed Al and Josh through the door where the media was waiting.

Unlike after the game in NLDS where he was the only player in the room, Brock was forced to conform to expectations during pregame interviews.

He was joined in the room by four other players, in this case it was Josh, Al, Danys and Cesar, and several members of the Dodgers auxiliary staff, including Cynthia Lu, who offered a brief nod but whose face – as usual – showed no emotion.

Despite the fact that the Dodgers captain and the hero of Game 1 were sitting on the rostrum with him, Brock was the immediate focus of everyone who was facing him, many of whom weren't sports writers or correspondents from sports-related networks. As had become more prevalent in recent weeks, there was no decorum. Almost every new face shouted a question at once.

"Hey!" Brock yelled. "I'm not going to play that stupid game. Pipe down and we'll get to this. Why don't you ask your questions of the others here so they can get on with their lives before I participate in this effort in futility?"

The sports reporters made short work of asking questions to the other players. Most focused on Al, of course, but a few asked questions of the others.

"Want me to stick around?" Al whispered when it was obvious that the well had run dry for the players.

"Nah," Brock said. "Just take up a collection to post bail for me."

Al chuckled and patted Brock on the shoulder as he walked behind him. The remaining players were off to get ready for batting and fielding practice before the game began.

"OK, I'll issue a statement and we can go from there," Brock said before the media could turn its gaze onto him. "First off, I've decided I'm going to start videotaping random people on the street and posting it to the Internet. Apparently that is the new rage and I've always wanted to be a follower. No, that's not true. In fact, I hope the piece of shit who thought it was good idea to upload that video gets a nasty social disease.

"Now, as to yesterday, the only thing I apologize for is my language. My sentiments were exactly as I feel. The statements I made were factual. My attorney did solicit the help of almost every elected official to secure my release from prison once the facts came to light. No one even bothered to return her call, let alone intercede on my behalf. Representative Lopez, by her own admission, did accept campaign money from one of the men who ensured my wrongful conviction and she did use that money to secure her election. I have found out this afternoon that she returned the money a year later but that doesn't change the fact that she accepted it and she used it.

"I would not be surprised if the man sitting in the White House also accepted campaign donations from Tom Anderson or from one of his corporate entities. I would be remarkably surprised if the man gave the money back or if he plans to. As the sitting governor, he had the chance to issue a conditional pardon and refused to even discuss it. Instead, he thought it would be better to allow an innocent child to stay in prison for a while longer. If we win the World Series, they better wait until the clown in the White House now is voted out before they invite us. I'll say the exact same things to him that I said to Representative Lopez yesterday if he tries to make nice with me.

"No one – I repeat, no one – assisted my attorney in any way until the case landed on the desk of an appellate judge. He moved swiftly to secure my release and bent over backward to ensure that justice was done. My attorney, Lynn Collingwood, and the judge, Richard Kerwin, are both dead. I have no allegiance to anyone for their help. I certainly will not willingly spend time in the company of those who could have helped but refused.

"Please note that I count the assembled media in this group. If you ever wonder why I have such open disdain for your profession and for those who practice it, wonder no more. It's because every news outlet in the state and several with nationwide circulation also received a packet of information from my attorney. None of you or your editors or your producers could be bothered. You were just like the president and Representative Lopez. You were content to let a scared 15-year-old sit in prison because you wouldn't gain anything from helping.

"I have been instructed to play nice today but this is about as nice as I plan to be. Now ask your insipid questions. I have something far more important to worry about than if I might have bruised the ego of a politician."

Brock scanned the room but everyone seemed a bit stunned at the anger he had directed not only toward the president and congresswoman but at them.

"Uh, can we assume you didn't vote for Ms. Lopez?" a man ventured with a half-smile.

"I no longer live in her district," Brock answered. He took deep breath and stood from his chair to move down to the front of the dais. He felt better when he wasn't looking over the heads of people.

"Ms. Lopez sent a letter this afternoon to clarify her position about when she became aware of the facts in my case," he continued after taking a seat on the edge of the platform. "She ran for election after my conviction and had just been sworn into the House of Representatives when my attorney contacted her. She wrote that she believed she was not in a position to assist my attorney but she also wrote that she agrees that she should have done something. I do not know of her politics and, to be blunt, I don't care. I wasn't assessing her worth as a politician. I was assessing her worth as a human being. As was said to me yesterday, no one would mistake one for the other."

"You said you were instructed to 'play nice, '" another asked. "Did that come from the team?"

"No," Brock answered. The group waited for him to say more. After a moment it became obvious that he didn't plan to elaborate.

"Did the commissioner contact you?" another voice asked.

"No," Brock replied again. Again there was an extended silence in the room.

"Uh, who told you to play nice?" a woman asked.

"Someone with far more influence than the Dodgers or the Commissioner's Office," Brock answered. "My fiancée told me I should be thoughtful with my answers. I am trying to do that."

"Do you think this will affect Vivian Lopez's run for the Senate next year?" a voice asked from the back.

"I have no idea," Brock told them. "Look, we're just rehashing everything I've already told you. So, one more time, I don't care about her position on issues. I don't care about her apology. I don't care if she runs for the Senate or for dogcatcher of Lewis County. Depending upon who runs against her, I might even vote for her. I accept that she believed that she was powerless to assist me at the time. I accept that she feels guilty that she didn't even bother to have her staff return my attorney's phone calls. I believe she understands that I don't plan to accept an apology anytime soon. Perhaps if she sees an injustice and takes steps to correct it, I might feel differently. Right now, I don't."

"Your release was already assured," a man said. "Don't you think you're being too hard on Vivian Lopez? It was just a matter of time until you were to be released."

Brock didn't answer. Instead he stood and removed his suit jacket. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. When he was stripped to the waist, he turned around to show the room the scars on his back.

"Prison is a violent, unpredictable place," Brock answered when he turned back and resumed his seat. "Those scars are knife wounds. They are wounds I didn't have when I went into Wallingford. In the four months, from the time Lynn Collingwood sent the facts to the authorities and to the media, I could have been stabbed again. I could have been blinded. I could have been strangled in my sleep. The fact that I was innocent and would be released gave those who were guilty another reason to resent me. When you spend 18 months in prison, I'll have a discussion with you about what it would mean to get out four months early. Until then, you're talking out of your ass."

"You were stabbed while you were there?" a blonde woman asked incredulously.

"I was attacked numerous times," Brock replied. "I was convicted of rape. That is one of the crimes that does not go unpunished by a prison population. In fact, the inmates often try to treat the rapist in kind. The first time I was stabbed was in retaliation for fighting back when another inmate attempted to sexually assault me. The second time was shortly after Lynn Collingwood discovered the truth and set about appealing my conviction. Again, I fought back and the man who stabbed me suffered a broken arm. He was murdered in the prison infirmary a day later. I will let you draw your own conclusions about who might have wished me dead. Do you understand why I hold resentment against those who could have helped me?"

The woman gulped but nodded slightly, almost unconsciously.

"Does anyone have any baseball-related questions?" Brock wondered.

Ed Harvey from the Los Angeles Chronicle cleared his throat.

"Do you think that the Nationals will pitch Michael Jennings on short rest in Game 4?" he asked.

"I'd be surprised if they didn't," Brock answered, smiling at the reporter. "I think it will depend on who wins tonight. Well, maybe not. If the Nationals have a chance to take a 3-1 lead, I think they have to look at it. Likewise, if they face the prospect of a 3-1 deficit, they have to consider it."

Brock chuckled.

"Wow, I think I finally understand why Jim LaCross gets paid so much," he said. "I thought it was just because he had to put up with guys like me."

Brock noticed the political correspondents were already packing up their cases to depart. They made so much noise it was impossible to hear a question from the back part of the room.

"I'm sorry," Brock said loudly. "It appears that some of your brethren didn't learn common courtesy when they were younger. Could you wait to repeat your question after those idiots get the hell out of here?"

More the half the room was empty when the writer restated her question. Brock stayed for five more minutes answering queries before the media coordinator announced that time was up.

Cynthia fell in beside Brock as he exited.

"That was playing nice?" she asked, offering a rare smile.

"You should have heard what I planned to say," Brock replied with a laugh.

Al gave Brock a strange look when he entered the locker room – shirtless and accompanied by the Dodgers security chief.

"Am I going to see a brawl on C-SPAN tonight?" he asked.

"Like you watch C-SPAN," Brock replied. "Besides I think there is an all-night bimbo-fest on Skin-A-Max. You never miss one of those."

"True," Al replied with a laugh before turning serious. "Do I want to know why you are not wearing a shirt?"

"I showed them why four months makes a difference when you're in prison," Brock replied. Al closed his eyes and shook his head. It was hard for him to fathom a man like Brock Miller spending a part of his young life in a place like a maximum-security prison cell.

"Assholes," Al muttered as he took a seat beside Brock. "You know, I saw the press conference when you got the money. I didn't remember it but Esmi reminded me. We were out here for some reason and there was a snippet on the news. I remember it because I turned to Esmi and said that you were a guy with so much anger that I wouldn't be surprised if you wound up back inside again. She said she wouldn't be surprised, given the fact that you were alone in the world. It would be easy for a guy with so much money and so little guidance to get into trouble."

"I had guidance," Brock replied. "My Mom might have been gone but she taught me right from wrong before she left. But you're right about the anger."

"You can't hold everyone responsible for what happened to you," Al said. "I see it sometimes in your expression. I can tell that something has happened to remind you of that time. You got a lot of people who care about you. I don't want to see that anger consume you. I know too many guys who've let that happen."

"So I should just suck it up and move on?" Brock asked.

"No," Al corrected him. "That's not what I'm saying. Most of the time that anger is what drives you to succeed. What I'm saying that people like Vivian Lopez aren't worth your time. Don't waste your righteous indignation on someone who is incapable of looking past the next election. Yesterday accomplished nothing. She still feels justified in ignoring your situation. The media got another chance to make a run at you. The team got a distraction it doesn't need at this point in the year. If I thought you felt better because you got the chance to speak your mind, I'd say it was worth it. But I don't think you feel any differently today than you did yesterday."

"I don't," Brock admitted.

"Just pick your battles a little more carefully," Al advised. "Oh, and if we get a White House visit, I want to be close enough to hear what you say to the president. That asshole has started to ruin the country just like he ruined California."

"California is not his fault," Brock replied. "It was ruined long before he got his hands on things. But he sure didn't help anything."

The Dodgers got a firsthand look at the Nationals No. 1 starter in Game 3. It was impressive – while it lasted.

Doug Wilmington shut down the Dodgers lineup for the first three innings, allowing only a two-out walk to Wade Watson in the process. The Nationals had scored once off the Dodgers' No. 3 starter, Javier Jimenez. Jimenez had started the season in the Astros organization and had posted decent numbers after arriving in Los Angeles via trade late in Spring Training. Still, his days as an elite pitcher appeared to be behind him at this point in his career.

The Nationals manager came out of the dugout to confer with the umpire before the fourth inning. There was no one on the pitching mound, so Matt Driesbach, the next hitter for Los Angeles, stood outside the batter's box and waited.

It took a moment but the umpire came over the Dodgers' dugout.

"Costas is in for Wilmington," the umpire announced to Jim LaCross. "It's an injury situation so the reliever gets as much time as he needs to warm up."

"Sure," Jim said with a nod.

Brock was sitting beside Josh in the dugout and the pair exchanged glances.

"That's a lucky break," Josh intoned.

"I hope it's not serious," Brock mentioned. "That kid has a great future."

"His great future can start next season," Josh replied. "Right now, I hope it's serious enough he won't be back this series."

The Washington reliever took his time getting loose, to the point that Jimenez wandered down the Dodgers bullpen to play catch so he didn't tighten up. Al popped his head out of the clubhouse just before time was called.

"They're saying it's a strained groin from running out that ground ball last inning," he said. "I think it might be something else. He didn't limp or anything. I've strained a groin muscle. That's not something you can hide."

"Maybe you're just a pussy," Josh said with a laugh.

"His velocity was down last inning," Brock offered. "That last fastball he threw me in the second was 98. He didn't get above 92 last inning."

"We'll know if they drop him from the roster," Al said as he grabbed his batting helmet and headed on deck.

It took until the fifth inning for the Dodgers to get the run back that they allowed in the second. By that time, the Nationals had added two more to take a 3-1 lead. That's the way the game ended, too. Washington would take a 2-1 series edge into Game 4 the following evening.

Brock and Meredith had agreed to spend another night at Mandarin Oriental, mostly because Meredith liked it better. So Brock rode back to the hotel alone instead of on the team bus. He snuck in the service entrance and headed up to the suite.