Stupid BoyChapter 17 Coin Flip
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While Barbara and Steve were making preparations for their honeymoon trip and receiving tips and instructions from Bobbie and Tom Conroy, Susan and Kelly Fitzpatrick were driven down to Bellevue to pick up Caitie. When they entered the room, they found that Caitie was already up and dressed. This came as no surprise. But what did was to find Sheila up, too. She was looking at her blood-soaked shirt and Levis, shaking her head.
"What are you doing out of bed?" Susan demanded. "Get back there where you belong!"
Sheila dropped to her knees and said, "Mistress, I'm fine. I'm also a slave, and must be punished severely for failing to carry out my duties yesterday—"
"Your duties are to recover!" Susan interrupted. "How can you even move? And for that matter, off your knees and on your feet."
In spite of the wound in her hip, Sheila appeared to move easily. When she was again standing she just shook her head and said, "With God's help — and in my case, his direct intervention — anything is possible. So here I am. But what am I to wear? Aside from all the blood — they're so stiff with it, they're like cardboard — both the shirt and pants have bullet holes in them."
After a soft knock, Dr. Caulkins entered the room and saw Sheila. "My God!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing out of bed? And for that matter, how could you get out of bed?"
Sheila, still wearing the hospital's johnny, seemed utterly oblivious to her appearance. Instead, she impressed Susan with her aplomb by extending her hand to Caulkins and saying, "How do you do? I assume you're Dr. Caulkins?"
When he acknowledged that he was she beamed and said, "Thank you, Doctor, for saving my life! Caitie tells me I was in pretty bad shape. If you weren't one of the very best in the business, I would be in a pine box right now."
"But ... but how?"
She shrugged and said, "I guess God wasn't ready to have me cluttering up His place just yet." She made a small motion with her head upward. "Anyway, although I'm not completely recovered, I guess I'm in far better shape than I have any right to be.
Then the doctor, after shaking his head in utter bewilderment, went off in search of some things for Sheila to wear home from the hospital. When he left the room, Kelly whispered to Susan, "Have you ever seen anything like my twin sister? That was something I would do! Isn't she just so neat?"
Returning to the Collins' apartment, Caitie's concession to Sheila's wounds was to skip the heavy exercise. Instead, when Sue went to call the girls for dinner, she found Sheila diligently practicing her handwriting under Caitie's watchful — and highly critical — eye.
Judge Bruce Rosen was surprised when he received a call from a woman named Sarah Wilson. She asked for a meeting with him regarding the Central Park mugging case. His first reaction was indignation until she mentioned that, until very recently, she had been Assistant Attorney General of the United States in charge of the Civil Rights Division.
Rosen had a vague memory of having read something about her, but couldn't remember what it was. But when she urged him to call the Attorney General in Washington to check her out, he immediately agreed to a meeting. At that point she named a location — one of the most prestigious office addresses in New York — and further asked that Calvin Monroe attend.
Although he was reluctant, she pointed out that Mr. Monroe was evidently in fear of Bengal tigers and there would be one present at the meeting. "His name is Ching, Judge," Sally said. "If it makes any difference to you, he's Princess's brother, and the uncle of Duke and Duchess. It's fair to say that he has no great love for any of the young men in the park that day, if you follow me? With Ching present, I can guarantee Monroe's good behavior. Don't you agree?"
Rosen immediately did.
Then she continued, "Your Honor, I will be bringing some friends and relatives to the meeting with me. But there is something that has been on our minds. We saw the verbal exchange in your courtroom. A question was raised about comparing the police notes of the questioning of the various men. I remember Calvin saying something and then you did a little checking. The question we have concerns Calvin himself: Did you read his confession? If so, how many crimes has he committed in the last two years? And, whatever he said, was it corroborated by the others?"
"That's a very interesting question, Miss Wilson—"
"A small point, Judge, but it's missus," she corrected him.
"Mrs. Wilson, I didn't check his record in the courtroom that day, but I did subsequently. Frankly, it's very puzzling—"
"—because he committed no crimes, did he?" she finished.
"Not that we've been able to discover," he replied, somewhat surprised. "But how did you know?"
"We didn't know, but we guessed. There were a number of things: First, the fact that he spent time in the library, unbeknownst to his buddies. Second, his manner of speech and his vocabulary. But finally, and most importantly, what he said about crime and punishment. Frankly, we came away with the impression that his stated fear of the tigers was more of an excuse than a reason. We think he wanted to stay in jail because he feels he belongs in jail. What do you think?"
"Frankly — and with no evidence — I agree with you," Rosen replied.
They set a date for ten o'clock the following Monday. Although he had agreed to the meeting at the office of PHA Construction, Rosen was thinking of reneging on his promise. He wanted to have any meeting on his home turf, the courthouse. However, he did place a call to the office of the U.S. Attorney General.
When he told the woman who answered that he was calling about Sarah Wilson, the secretary immediately put him on hold. A moment later he found himself talking to the Attorney General of the United States, himself. What he learned caused him to breathe a silent prayer of thanks that he had acquiesced to her request. He found out that Sarah Duncan Wilson was one of the most highly regarded attorneys in the nation. The AG told him that Sally had been on a very extended leave of absence — almost five years — before her resignation had finally been accepted.
Moreover, he learned that the AG's personal evaluation was more than shared by the Senate. In fact, it was upon the insistence of the Senate Judiciary Committee whose chairman had told him in no uncertain terms that no replacement would be confirmed, that the position had remained open for so long. He learned that Sally herself had to persuade the chairman to allow her to resign. Finally, he learned that, when she submitted her resignation, not only had he sent her a letter accepting her resignation with deepest regret, but the committee itself sent a similar letter to which every member of the committee was a personal signatory. Clearly, Rosen thought, this woman is very special indeed.
He made arrangements through the police and the New York County Sheriff's Office to have Monroe picked up and brought over to the courthouse. Then, with two policemen, they were driven to the Park Avenue address Mrs. Wilson had given him. Arriving at the building, he was whisked up to the 45th floor.
When the elevator doors opened, his eyes widened. Never had he seen such sumptuous offices. The receptionist escorted him to the strangest conference room he had ever seen. It had an enormous table which could accommodate twenty people in great comfort, each with a leather-upholstered executive chair. But, contrary to his normal experience, the table wasn't in the center of the large room. Rather, it was set to the side leaving a large sitting area which looked like a magnificently decorated and very comfortable living room. In fact, Rosen noted with amazement, it had a fireplace which looked completely authentic. The flames looked almost real.
"The reason the fire looks so authentic is that it is. A real log fire, that is," a lovely woman's voice said. So preoccupied was he that he had not noticed the people in the room. Looking up, he found himself face to face with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. With a shock he realized he hadn't even qualified it with the word, black.
"How do you do, Judge," the woman said. "I'm Sally Wilson. I see you're impressed with our fireplace. I guess we're showing off a little. Now that it's almost May, we really don't need it, but it is rather raw today, isn't it?"
Indeed the weather was windy, rainy, and raw — more like early March than late April. In fact, Rosen realized, the heat from the fireplace certainly did feel good.
Sally continued, "It was Andy. When they were planning the office, she thought a fireplace here would be lovely. When Jack said it was impossible to put a working fireplace in a high-rise office building, Andy just put her lovely nose in the air and announced, 'Let it be a challenge to you!' Anyway, here it is."
For Calvin Monroe, the day was one of surprises. First of all, he had been in jail when he was called and told to get his regular clothes. He was meeting Judge Rosen. When he tried to point out that he really had none, the guard just motioned him away. To his surprise there were new clothes that fit him perfectly, although they were in a style he would never have chosen. They were, he realized, both conservative and very comfortable. The jacket label said "J. Press" which was a name he had never heard of, but the jacket was made of a beautiful soft wool.
While Judge Rosen was talking to the woman, Calvin was looking around. Seated at the end of the table was another gorgeous woman. She looked regal as she sat up straight. To her right was a giant of a man who he guessed was her husband. He noticed they had a shared need to touch each other. Next to the woman, Sally Wilson, was another big man whose face was familiar, although he couldn't place it. Then he made a connection. Could this be Dave Wilson, the Giant's All-Pro running back? He wondered. The name is right, and the size is right. I wonder...
Another couple were also in the room. Again, the man looked like an athlete, while the woman looked like a princess. Looking at her and then at the woman at the end of the table, it appeared they were sisters, and yet that didn't really fit. He couldn't figure it out.
Then he heard the introductions, and was introduced himself. The man was, indeed, Dave Wilson of the Giants. Moreover, the giant at the end of the table was introduced as John Smith, a Hall of Fame defensive end for the Green Bay Packers. When Wilson greeted him, he remarked that it was lucky for him that Smith was retired or he would never have been able to gain an inch against the Packers when they played.
The surprises weren't over yet. Then Calvin learned that the other man was Ron Jackson, the safety for the Chicago Bears. What's going on, he wondered. What is this? A pro football players' convention? But his jaw really dropped when he learned from an introductory comment Judge Rosen made that Sally Wilson was formerly Assistant Attorney General of the United States! Finally, there was another couple present who were introduced, without further explanation, as Sam and Ellen Duncan, although Mrs. Duncan appeared to be related in some way to Mrs. Wilson.
Sally Wilson told the judge to ask Calvin's guards to leave, pointing out that he couldn't get very far from their location on the 45th floor. The judge nodded and the guards withdrew, leaving them alone with the six people. At that point Rosen said, "It's a real pleasure to meet with such of distinguished group of African-Americans—"
"When did your ancestors arrive in the States?" Mrs. Smith, the woman at the head of the table, interrupted.
"I beg your pardon?" the judge replied. When she asked again, he replied, "Around 1900, I guess, but why do you ask?"
"Rosen is German, isn't it?" Mary Smith asked. When the judge said it was, she continued, "Do you call yourself a German-American? Or a Euro-American?"
"Of course not!" the judge replied, growing testy. He had no idea what direction her questions were leading.
"Judge, my ancestors have been here since before the Revolutionary War," Mary Smith stated. "The slave trade essentially ended around 1820, so all blacks were here by then. Now, sir, on what basis should we be called African-Americans? We wish to be thought of as just plain Americans who happen to be Negroes. Clear?" Then tears appeared at the corners of her eyes as she continued, "My first husband gave his life in defense of the United States. He did not die defending Africa! Am I making myself clear, sir?"
"What a fool I've been!" Sam Duncan interjected. "Mary, was your first husband Tom Jefferson?" When she nodded, Sam continued, "Judge, let me tell you something. Tom Jefferson was one of the greatest heros we've ever had. He gave his life saving the lives of his men — most of whom were white, by the way. On the other hand, he told me before he died how his life had been saved by his platoon leader, a very young West Point graduate named—"
"Sean Callahan," Mary finished. "Colleen Callahan, his widow, lives with me in Chicago." Then her eyes widened as she continued, "I'm the fool, Sam Duncan! I've known you for years, and I certainly know of your brilliant military career, but it never registered before! Tom used to write and tell me about Sam Duncan. You were his hero and the man he most wanted to emulate."
Her tears were flowing in twin streams now as she concluded, "I'm certain that when he lost his life he was doing the things he was sure Sam Duncan would have done!" Turning to Rosen, she said, "Sam Duncan is one of the most decorated heros in the history of this country. Sam, do you think of yourself as an African American?"
"Hell, no!" Sam replied vehemently. "On at least three separate occasions my life was saved by Ken Carlson, the greatest hero in the history of this country. And Ken is sure white. And you know something else, Judge? Ken Carlson doesn't see skin colors. He sees men! Some he likes and some he doesn't but he judges everyone against a single standard.
"Do you remember Martin Luther King's dream? That we will be judged by the content of our character, not the color of our skins? Well let me tell you, that's exactly what Ken Carlson has always done."
"Let me tell you something else, Judge," Mary Smith picked up. "I was born on a large farm — a plantation in the 19th century — in Virginia. It's only been in the last few years when I've had the time and money to pursue some of these interests that I learned more about the Smith family of Virginia. A couple of years ago, John and I went back to visit. Do you know what? It had been over thirty years, but I was welcomed back as a member of the family.
I learned that Charles Smith, an ancestor, was a major in the First Virginia Cavalry. That was the unit commanded by Jeb Stuart," she explained. "He fought for the Confederacy. But he did not fight for slavery! I learned that, in 1861 as Charles Smith was preparing to leave his home to fight for Virginia and states' rights, he freed all of the family's slaves. I learned that my great-grandmother worked with Nancy Smith to try to maintain the plantation. They nursed the wounded and preserved the house from marauders, helped by their freedmen. A number of cavalry actions were fought around the plantation, including one in which Mr. Smith was wounded. My ancestor and Nancy Smith nursed him back to health. In 1866, they started to rebuild the place, and my mother was still there, helping Nancy and Charles Smith.
"Then, when I was a little girl, I used to watch the Smiths. They were ladies and gentlemen in the finest sense of the word. We went to school, but what we really learned, we learned at home. I suppose, Judge, that my family was a victim of slavery. Well, I certainly don't see it that way. That place is home!"
At this point, Sally Wilson came back into the conversation. "Judge, why don't we get down to business? The liberal ethic — and the political-correctness ethic — is too strong for us to change your behavior, let alone your mind.
"Judge, what did you learn about Calvin Monroe? How much trouble has he been in over the last two years?"
"As I told you on the phone," the judge replied, "we could find nothing."
"How about it, Calvin?" Sally asked.
For the first time, Monroe looked at her carefully. He realized she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. But now her warm brown eyes were looking at him as if she could see through steel. Temporizing, he said, "How about what? I don't understand."
"Knock it off, would you please?" she snorted. "You know damn well what I mean. How much trouble have you been in — personally! — over the last two years?"
"Well, we—"
"I don't give a damn about 'we'!" she interrupted. "I asked about you!"
"None, ma'am," he replied softly.
"You stayed in the gang for two reasons: habit, and safety, right?" she asked. Before he could respond, she continued, "By safety I mean trying to be safe from the Black Avengers, right? I don't know for sure, but most of the gangs I do know about don't look favorably on a member's resignation."
Calvin nodded his head. Then he said, "There's more, too. No one in the 'hood messes with the family of a gang member. Now, even though I'm in jail..." His eyes widened as he realized the situation. "My God! Now there's nothing. The whole gang is either in jail or dead. Now there's going to be a war over what was the Avengers' turf."
His eyes started to tear as he added, "Maybe it's started already. I heard a rumor the other day that a crack dealer had traded some junk to my mother for my sister, Ann. She's only nine years old." Shaking his head, he continued, "And it could have happened. With enough crack cocaine, my mother would have helped the guy, too."
Glaring at Rosen, Monroe added, "Who was it, Judge, who spoke of 'the everlasting triumph of hope over experience'? That's you and the social-service establishment. You don't take the kids away from my mother because maybe now she'll turn over a new leaf. Sure she will! When shrimp learn to whistle!"
"So you've done nothing wrong in the last two years?" Sally repeated.
Calvin nodded.
"You can speak, Calvin," Sally said. "Now let's hear it. Did you do anything wrong within the last two years?"
"No, ma'am, I did not," Monroe replied emphatically.
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