Chapter 13

Naturally, someone called the cops, and I was immediately arrested, handcuffed and hauled off to jail, Grace ran all the away home. Since it's just a hop, skip and a jump from the scene of the crime to a place of refuge it didn't take long ... but, oh my ... that girl is out-of-shape ... for running anyway.

She was pretty much out of breath when she got home but she tried ... really she did ... to explain to daddy what had happened. If ... she ... could ... just ... catch ... her ... breath. And maybe a glass of water ... or two.

The phones rang.

We have two phones, 87 is the office and 779R is the house partyline. 779R is Lucy Lou's gossip channel. We used to have just the 87 phone and we children couldn't answer it during the daytime hours of the Law Office.

Chapped WSM's ass no end.

When Lucile was daddy's legal secretary in training she knew all the best gossip because she knew who was suing whom and when Jon Doe was going to trial and what he had done and she was sure the evidence was good ... and like that.

We had two phones because certain secret conversations between the Prosecution and the Defense became common knowledge throughout the town.

Daddy picked up on 87.

Lucy Louise picked up on 779R1.

The conversations were mostly identical but the conclusions were diametrically opposed.

Daddy was talking to the new Chief of Police.

LL, AKA; WSM (that's Lucile Louise, Also Known As; Wicked StepMom.) was talking to Mrs. Conn. Mrs. Conn was 779 R2 on the gossip channel. It was pure happenstance that Mrs. Conn lived, with her War Hero husband, in the house on McConnell that backed the funeral home parking lot. Her kitchen window overlooked the cul-de-sac where Oswald's Funeral Home drive made the loop from 'in' to 'out'.

In the middle of both conversations, Grace's lungs finally caught up with her breath.

"Daddy, David didn't do it!" she shouted. She was loud enough for both parties of the first part ... Daddy and Lucile ... to hear. "I did!"

In this particular instance, Grace had shouted loud enough for the parties of the second part, the new Chief of Police being one, and Mrs. Conn being the other, to hear ... even over the phone.

The Chief scoffed at the silly idea that a weak little girl could put five of six big strapping junior high boys in the hospital, "Charlie? Do you believe that? I mean really?"

Mrs. Conn said, "That's what I tried to tell the Officer ... Grace was the beater ... David stood and watched."

Mrs. Conn caught a second wind and said, "I was quite disappointed that David didn't step in and defend Grace but it took only seconds to see that she didn't need it. Wherever did she learn to be so destructive? She'll never get a husband if she keeps that up."

In 1954, for girls, husband was the prize in life. 'Single, settled, comfortable, reliable and employed husband' was the Blue Ribbon.

At the same time, for men, 'sexy, built, blonde and willing' was their touchdown ... as many as they could find, both home field and away game. There's a new game every week.

Grace was 12 and the women in town were already worried about her chances at a Blue Ribbon.

What it all boiled down to was; Grace met with the Chief of Police at the school gym and destroyed him.

It wasn't supposed to be like that. The demonstration of Grace as a combatant was a friendly competition. The Chief was sure he would win, David would be convicted of damaging those junior high boys and that would be the end of that.

Grace was in the process of cleaning his clock with no strike combat, when he lost his temper and hit her in the face with a closed fist ... it was on purpose ... the witnesses all agreed that it wasn't an accident and he ... for sure ... was gloating about it, when she jumped back up off the mat and made him a soprano.

She didn't stop there ... she also broke his jaw and kneecap.

His new bride divorced him because he couldn't 'perform' in the sack. The divorce came later.

Two men from the force decided that 'no fucking little girl was going to treat a Marine like that' and she nailed them both with severe concussions ... hospital for days and the town was worried about the outcome.

I, on the other hand, had a second lawsuit in the courts. The department was determined to 'force' a confession and the camera doesn't lie. I looked awful.

About halfway through my first life I was set upon by experts and escaped into the jungle ... leaving behind me a collection of the very baddest of bad guys in a country I was never in, doing a job I never did, to people I never met.

"You might think that, I could not possibly say."

Compared to the men from that unnamed country, the police were rank amateurs. Amateurish enough that they wouldn't leave it at that and called in 'Bigger Hitters' ... the Federal Alphabet Soup. Serious mistake. The Soup investigates everything.

Both sides.

In 1956, by the time the Feds were finished, Maximum Security inmates in Jackson Prison had several new play toys and Saint Johns and the State were reeling under the weight of half a dozen false imprisonment charges from the Twenties.

People who thought their position in life made them immune to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune were prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law ... Federal Law. Land grabs were returned to the heirs of the original owners and bank accounts were seized. Sons and daughters of the highest of the high found themselves among the lowest of the low and I won a million dollar lawsuit.