Chapter 8

It was dark and quiet when I awoke. Since I was attacked early in the day, it would follow that at least twelve hours passed between getting hurt and waking up. The first thing I did was to think about my body and feel for damage and pain.

My head hurt.

I know that shocks you, but it is true. My head hurt. The stitches pulled and my whole head was sore, along with pain down through my neck all the way through my shoulder to my left hip. The pain was more than annoying, but not so bad that I needed to summon help, so I laid still and waited to see if it would go away on its own.

It didn’t.

After about an hour during which the pain kept increasing, I hit my call button, which caused all kinds of commotion.

The first one through the door was a nurse I had never seen before. She rushed in like she might be in trouble for failing to know that I was awake. She was jumpy and talked way too loud for the circumstances.

The doctor who showed up next was younger and far less nervous than the nurse. He instantly took command and asked me, “Ross, I am Doctor Allain. Do you know where you are?” He smiled like he had not a care in the world, which meant that I was probably in good hands as long as the nurse on duty wasn’t without a backup.

“I’m in Mercy Hospital. Doctor Halberstadt took care of me this morning when the ambulance brought me in. A man hit me in the head and I had a deep cut.”

He looked like that wasn’t the news he hoped to hear, for some strange reason. “I’m sorry Ross. Your information is mostly spot on, but you have been asleep for eight days, and we had no reason to expect you to wake up tonight. You were moved from Mercy to our nursing facility when your doctor decided that you might not wake up at all.

“You see, your head injury was very bad. Your internal injuries were even worse. and could have been fatal. The bleeding inside had to be located and sewed off, which Doctor Halberstadt did as soon as you showed signs of that type of injury. When you did not wake up following surgery, it was determined that you had slipped into a coma and there was no reason to expect it to go away in the near term, so you were moved here to be cared for until something changed...”

He looked at me for a long moment and then said, “Now something has changed and we need to notify your doctors and other care givers.” With that he asked the nurse to check all of my vital signs and bring them to him at the desk when she was done.

Sienna and Jeanette showed up within an hour and rushed in hugging and kissing the side of my head. They seemed ecstatic that I was awake. It wasn’t long after they appeared that Doctor Halberstadt strolled in with two men pushing a gurney. I was quickly loaded, rolled to a waiting ambulance, and driven back to Mercy, with Jeanette and Sienna keeping me company in the back.

Thereafter came two weeks of tests, examinations, x-rays and all kinds of therapy, before I was declared fit to leave the hospital and appear before Judge Marshall for another family court hearing. Jeanette accompanied me representing the State and Sienna was looking after my medical welfare. The hospital demanded I appear in court in a wheelchair, as they had not cleared me to walk on my own and thought trying to use canes or a walker would pose too much of a risk. As a result, I looked pitiful all over again.

“All rise for Judge Marion Marshall. Those appearing before this court with business please check in with the clerk to my left and maintain an orderly, quiet, and respectful premises at all times.” Seeing the judge at her seat, he finished his spiel. “Be seated.”

“Good morning. We are here to examine the personal welfare of a minor child, Ross Thompson. He has appeared in my courtroom several times as we examined the crimes committed against his person by his maternal parent, and numerous sexual predators. Most recently he was assaulted at the home of his temporary guardian by a person who pretended to be an attorney representing some of those individuals charged with the crimes I mentioned.”

She turned to me, and said, “Good morning, Ross. I am sad to see you back in a wheelchair. We have your case before us because Judge Marcus dealt with the man who forced his way into the home where you were staying and assaulted you. He has been investigated and several people have been charged with conspiracy to commit murder and a host of other things. I’d imagine that Jeanette will update you on those details at a later time. We don’t need to spend time talking about the past.

“What we do need to do is talk about your safety.”

She turned to a man sitting in the second row, and nodded. He looked like a body builder. His suit was professionally altered to fit his six-foot five frame, and the shoulders of his coat were a work of art as they hid both his bulk and the weapon he carried in a left handed holster underneath it.

The man deliberately rearranged some documents on the table in front of him, and then addressed the judge just as carefully. “Your honor, my name is Fred Gottfried. I am a special investigator for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The young man, Ross Thompson came to our attention some weeks ago when news about his long-term abuse hit the news.