Secrets-^<>^<> Chapter Four

"My son killed himself ten days ago. He hanged himself."

A squeaky sound of the women's sigh and a heavy breathing of men followed the sudden revelation of Tim. No one could say anything. What would they say to ease the pain of a father, who felt that he had failed raising his son, and then had learned his son's capture for a crime he did not commit; and now this?!

Emotion is always created in tranquillity and is aggrandized in sorrow. However, that serenity would not come consciously and no one, any way, can recognize it. Therefore, when ardor comes, it appears as all sadness.

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Everything In Ed now irritated Thui, his fat stomach, the way he dressed, ate, even his entire existence. She had not married him for love; she had done it for green card and then the path to Citizenship, which she had achieved both. Meanwhile she had a good deal going on being married to a man, lawyer, becoming a judge. She had thought at the beginning of her marriage: "I am not going to let what happened to me with that other old man, happen to me again. If I give him couple of children, my security for the rest of my life is sealed. It would not be like the other old man who died in six months and didn't give me anything." But now she thought about what her husband had done. Wasn't that a crime, too? It definitely was not a virtuous act! And the trace that was left of it, crushed away beneath the frenzied blast of her self happiness.

On the other hand, who was she to judge her husband wrong doing should anyone knew what she had done in her past life herself in order to come to America? But all human being would find a good reason for the same or equal immoral act! She was the same... She only wished in this dreadful night no one would ever discover who she really was, and what she had done. But she had a good reason. She had no choice. She was young, very young, wanted a dreamy future.

Now she only yearned to rely on something more solid than love, for love was an unmeaning feeling for her. She had not learned it from her parents, nor from her first man, neither the second or third... To her love was only an object for men to use women. she had allowed that to happen. Love was an affluence of imagination! Now nothing was left of something that never existed; nothing was left of home, nostalgia, parents, or... She was not even homesick anymore. she wanted to get rid of all things that reminded her from home in her mind, all consequential circumstances of her life, her teenage years, her affairs, her marriages, and her love, the first love, the first vicious love, and subsequently losing everything all the time, all her life.

Even in her highest happiness, she had lived lost in the foreseeable misery of her future happiness. Desire, rage, and hatred dominated all her life. She even did not know herself why she was that way! Was it for despondent childhood or the extreme poverty of her parents, or was it for wanting to change her life and did not know how? She had no clue how to do it!

The lust, the craving for money, and the pensiveness of her resentment for the kind of life she had had all were mixed together into one great torment. She did think about them constantly instead of running away from them. She clung to all those desires, forcing herself to the pain and suffering that were produced for not having them, and searched for them everywhere.

Now, she had no way out, marriage, children, being the wife of someone, being called Mrs. so and so, all intermingled in her soul's mind as a chain that its link was not breakable. All her life she wanted to change her life, and now that it was changed, she was still unhappy. As the intimacy and the special closeness between her and Ed had become deeper and more meaningful mostly for Ed, the abyss that separated her from him had also grown deeper and greater.

Now everything in her life seemed used up and her hopelessness seemed older and larger than a mountain. Her face showed frustration, and she was crying inside blindly for all her anguish and ruination. Nonetheless, her devastating expression could not be hidden from the people around her especially Ed, her husband, and Tim, their enemy. She was certain that Tim would try to get some secret out of her. She was not sure how strong she could be not to reveal her secrets to others in this inauspicious night. She was not troubled by her conscience in that matter. Her trouble was Ed, her husband, who could learn something about her that he had never known. She thought for a minute: "So what? I didn't know what he had done either; even though I was suspicious." But then she looked intensely withing herself and admitted in her speaking mind that even though Ed had never told her directly, she had known about it all along, and Ed knew that she knew.

To her, people with good conscience were mainly afraid of the society or themselves. That was why they had good moral sense. She was not afraid of herself; but she cared what other people thought of her.

She looked at Ed. He looked so old to her specially now. It seemed to her that his oldness had begun a long time ago, and would never end. She felt for him a little looking at his lonesome, childish, old face. Life now and always had been a dream for her, and now it was only a blow, layers and layers of madness.

Contemplating, she was certain that everyone was expecting her reaction of hearing her husband's greediness to the extent of ruining a life. If she would say that she knew about it, she be as doomed as he; if she would say she did not know about it, they all would laugh at her. She had no way out. She felt her existence would be melted in despondency at the thought of talking.

Things turned out to be devastating. The innocent man, Tim's son, who had become a thing for her husband's greediness, had killed himself. There was no return, no forgiveness. Inwardly she wanted everything to go away, but reality there, in that home was more bitter than poison.

She gazed at he empty space with her cloudy eyes. In fact, she was rejoicing in the hate that was filling her. Where had she learned this depravity, a vice which was without spirit in its existence? The more she recognized her wickedness, the more she tried to crush it down; but it was there!

To Be Continued

Secrets- ??????? Chapter Four

Thui was a patient listener throughout the evening. She never argued or provided Tim an opportunity to attack her credibility. Now that Ed stopped telling his shameful story, she was not sure how she could continue to be the same person, especially when it came to her husband. Her frustration spun in her mind.

Diana started a cigarette and blew a circle of smoke to the ceiling. She also seemed disgusted.

Jacob, also disturbed, thought that the world of the jurists was not a world of facts, it was a world of deception and mockery.

Rosa, feeling sorry for Tim, regretted her own action which had brought her to that house. She could see that the world was divided, at least in that house, between honesty and deception, existence and nonentity.

However, Tim waited to see the impression of the others. He let their impatience grew. Then suddenly he opened the two upper buttons of his shirt, began fanning herself, took off his shoes, and nodded his head in disgust. In his eyes immediately appeared a derisive smile, a certain complication and entanglement.

He remembered how he had stared with terrible intensity at the sun. He recalled that he could not take his eyes from those burning rays, as though he wanted to blind himself intentionally. It had seemed to him that those rays were his new God, nature. He even wanted to be melted beneath those burning rays. His doubt and hatred against this new knowledge which was certain was repulsive. He had said to himself then that nothing was more terrible than this- relentless thought, death of his son. Yes, he had thought about that, yes, he had pictured it, he even had seen it in his dream, he even had created it in his mind how it would happen. But then standing under those incessant sun rays, he had known that it had happened, that his son had taken his life by hanging himself in his cell. He thought what if it was all lies, what if life was given back to Christopher; what an existence it would be, and it all would be his!

Standing under those burning rays, only ten days ago, he had tried to be his son. If life would given back to him, he would make every minute of it an eternity. He would evaluate every passing moment. Nevertheless, those thoughts had filled him with extreme anger that he would want to die all the same and very quickly.

Tears dried out in his eyes. He wanted to cry but no tears were coming down from his dry eyes. He gazed at those rays, stared at them, just might be the extremity of their heat would make the tears to flow, but nothing happened. Then he thought about God, the God of creation, of power, the invisible god, the God of destruction, the God of energy and inspiration, the God of lightness and darkness, the God, he was told, that without him was like being in darkness. He screamed: "Oh, great God, lighten my darkness." Then rage filled him out. He laughed hysterically and became more unbelieving than ever.

The severity of his grief, however seemed incomplete since he had no one to share this fury with. He had this stupefaction which always happened after the death of a loved one; it was so unrealistic for him to seize this emptiness and to believe in this death. He even laughed, a frantic laughter, thinking that his son had seen the gruesome mask of the death which had stood in front of him with menace. Drunk with grief, he shivered under those hot rays.

Now thinking about that image, that desperate moment of learning about his son's death, he recalled those rays again. He became confused of remembering, as though his son's life and memory of his death spreading over each other.

Then, ten days ago, he had heard a music, like a prolonged, vague cry, a melody which lingered, and in the silence of his grief, he had heard that the music was merging with the palpitating of his heart. That day was a dispiriting one. Things seemed to him were engulfed in a dark horizon; and then swimming dizzily beneath the burning rays of the sun. Sorrow interwove with his soul. He gave this sense of abstraction to the things that would never return.

A feeling of laziness which normally would come after an excruciating pain took over him. He sensed an interference of every accustomed movement. It was a sudden ending of this extended shaking.

It was just all the same. These people, even Rosa, did not know that his son had taken his life. He had a plan which did not include even Rosa, his girlfriend. Now was the time, after Ed had confessed to his kind of crime. Now it was time to bring the real hammer down and strike his head with it.

To Be Continued

Secrets##### Chapter Four

"I knew it at the very beginning," Ed began with a muffled voice: "that John was guilty. He confessed to me and to the authorities, too. I told him that I couldn't defend him. He was guilty as sin. Then his father came and visited me. He offered me a million dollars first. I said I couldn't jeopardize my reputation for any money. Let me tell you this man, John's father, is a true politician. He knew how to bring me around. I finally agreed for five million dollars. I told him that a big portion of the money go to other people, whom I have to pay to help me, to destroy the evidence, to temper with the witnesses. But my answer didn't come very quickly. I did my research about finding another suspect. Christopher was the best candidate. To me, he was just a name then." Ed stopped, dropped his head into his chest and draped his hands behind his neck.

"What happened after?" Jacob demanded.

"I was able to prove that the night of the crime, John was with two friends, Christopher was not one of them. He had dined with them in a restaurant, and then spending the rest of the night playing pool. I demanded that they should throw the confession out, since they did not read his right and they took that confession without his lawyer's presence. I proved that confession was under duress after police had beaten him up. I manipulated the waiter in the restaurant, the people in the bar that John was there. At the end, those people really believed that John was there. I made them admit in the court that he was there. I actually didn't give them any money, as you may call bribery because then they would know that I was trying to make them lie. But I gave them nice gifts for their cooperation, for their help. I gave those gifts at the end of the trial when he was acquitted and pretended that they were from John's father. I told them that he is grateful that their testimony have saved his innocent son. I told them that John's father was thanking them to help his faultless son.

"The medical report was inconclusive. No finger print, no murder weapon were found anywhere. The only finger print was Christopher's at the woman's house. We knew that he was there earlier that evening. The medical report showed that condom was used by the rapist. There was no evidence found in her body or on her clothes.

"I taught John how to point his finger at Christopher when the police were doing their investigation. All these preparation took an entire year before we went to trail. Then It came selecting of Jury."

"You mean that you even tempered with Jurors!" Tim said angrily.

"Not exactly; but all lawyers, both defense and prosecutor use this technique..."

"We need to stop this. I don't want to hear anymore." Thui cut off Ed. She was at the verge of tears. This was the first time the others saw that she showed any emotion.

"You must listen."Tim said furiously. "You, too, are taking advantage of my son's misery, aren't you. I am sure that money are spent in your household."

"I didn't know, I didn't know." Thui sat back, and covered her face while crying aloud.

"What about jurors? What is the technique?" Jacob asked somberly.

Ed got up. The emotions agitating his heart would not be appeased easily. He began pacing the room, staring thoughtfully at his feet. He was particularly struck by his own confession.

"You think that I tempered the jurors? No, I didn't. But I used this method to pick them. Many defense lawyers that their clients can afford use this procedure. It is like, how should I say, like a service which is provided by this firm.

"What they do is to establish a profile of the defendant, all his back ground, his interests, his weakness, his religion, his disbelief, and his family. Then they make a profile of the crime, how it happened, why it happened; and then they try to match the profile of the defendant with the crime. The last part of their service is to sketch a profile of the prospective jurors who would be more compassionate to the defendant.

"The defense attorney tries to match the most of potential jurors to the psychological description is provided by that firm during Voir Dire. Finally they come up with the twelve jurors and even the alternates which can serve the best the defendant. After impalement, that firm really dig into the lives of those jurors. Such analysis contains many things about the jurors that are already selected, their habits, their prejudice, their jobs, the neighborhood they live in, their education, their religion, their nationality, their weakness and strength. Everything about them are included in their report.

"When the defense attorney knows so much about the jurors, he bases his defense, his manner, the way he is dressed, and everything else upon that. In the court room, the defense lawyer talks to them as though he is talking to their awareness. Since he knows their biases, fears, hopes, and even hidden desires, he touches them incredibly. That is the service I used to free John and it worked. He was acquitted of all charges."

To Be Continued

Secrets `~`~`~Chapter Four

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Tim Rose and went to the kitchen. Without asking Diana or Jacob, he made a pot of coffee. He returned to the living room, leaning against the door. His shoulders were sunken. He stared in silence to an unknown place. No one could read anything from his lifeless eyes. His face was darkened by a sudden pain. Nobody knew if his obvious pain was physical or emotional. His gaze penetrated nothing; nonetheless, it was hard, straight, and inevitable.

"Are you okay?" Jacob murmured.

Tim dragged himself almost with difficulty to the closest chair and sat, but before doing this, he took a a piece of paper from his shirt pocket.

"This is a letter Christopher wrote me from prison." His voice was muffled. "I must read this to you all."

Everyone sank in their seat. However Diana got up and went to the kitchen to bring the coffee. She asked if anyone wanted the coffee. Everyone said yes except Thui. Rosa joined her in the kitchen. She helped Diana to put the pot in a tray with cups and saucers and two bowls of sugar and milk, just in case anyone wanted those. After the coffee was brought up, Tim put on his glasses, sipped his coffee, he had mixed it with milk, and began to read his son's letter to others:

"I hate this world. I don't know what love is, a painful wound, or an injured heart. I don' know and I never will. Here, I always think that I have only a few more hours or even minutes left to live. These few hours or minutes, however seem like eternity growing before me. One wonders how only a few minutes or hours seem like a great profusion of time. Sometimes I feel that in these only few minutes I have left, I can live and experience many endeavors, many existences. But I think of the last final moments of my life all the time. I lay and stare at the ceiling which is covered by spider's webs and see and imagine things in those webs. But ultimately what I see is cruelty, like when the other prisoners, even some guards that are stronger and bigger than me do unspeakable things to me.

"The words I speak in prison are all to unknown people, who are truly murderers, rapists, and true criminals. They all treat me like one of them, but I am not one of them. The strange thing is, dad, that I have this great fear that I am becoming like them. It is about survival, even though I want to die but not by the hand of this criminals. When I utter words to others, is mainly for the need to hear my own voice, to feel I am still alive. But am I alive?

"I have done many unspoken things in my life, but I'm not a murderer or rapist. I know that you believe me, dad. I saw it in your eyes..."

Tim folded the letter and put it back in his pocket. Then he took his glasses off and put them in their case. His eyes downcast, his face contracted in a grimace of an intolerable pain. A grave and heavy silence followed after the letter was read. No one moved, no one showed his or her emotion because they all knew nothing could match the pain Tim was going through.

It was Diana, who finally broke the silence by saying:

"It's three thirty in the morning, I thinks it's time to end this night."

Thui, who was trying to avoid the inevitable, grasped Diana's idea and said:

"That is a great idea. Ed, let's go."

Suddenly Tim got up from his chair, his strength back. His eyes discharged nothing but fire. He jabbed a forefinger at his audience:

"No one is leaving now. I want to know how Ed was able to pull this off, to do this dirty task, this switching; yes, I call it switching of the suspects. Besides a while ago Rosa was condemning me of being a terrible person. I admit, I am. But she needs to tell you all her dirty tricks, too."

Rosa crimsoned, and glared at him but said nothing.

"How did you do it, Ed?" Jacob's tone of voice was harsh.

"Do we have to go through details? I already admit of doing it." Ed said somberly, while thinking that even his long time friend, Jacob, was turning against him.

"Yes," Tim hisses at him.

To Be Continued

Secrets- <><><> Chapter Four

$$

Every one in the hosts' joined living room and dining room were waiting. The night was fading. The green drapery curtains with white lining were pushed aside. The soft wind were blowing out the white lace curtain behind them; however, even though they were lace, they were obscuring the orange sun, soon to come out.

Everything that was happening amongst the six people in that closed space were only words, the usual words that had so much emotion, so much pain, and so many secrets behind them. Words that for so long were prevented by some force stronger than the owners of those words to be uttered. Now, let them spill, spill what little hearts had been able to remember, to recall good and evil.

The moon was now turning, there, there, somewhere, on the other side of the universe, to give its beauty to the people who were just going through night. However, its light, as if with some kind of magic, was even better than day light. Love for so many things were floating in space.

"Love of living, when it is too much;

Hope and fear arise at such.

Taking for granted the gift of living;

What God has given us is not living.

Sometimes we forget that nothing is for ever.

We forget that our dead ones wake up never.

Even the toughest river, we forget,

Winds to the safety of a sea in its sunset."

The future for all these people was something to be loathed, favoring more, much more the past, not a far past, but even a day ago- the sweet, holly past. And all the reasons for animosity were not intended to subside, to dissipate like rain cloud in the sun.

Now there was only one thing to consider; all these people now should be attentive to each other, very much so. They all carried so much dirt on their shoulders. No one could say that he or she was clean. Conscious of analytical steadfastness they had achieved, they had to be cautious not to destroy it, to stay in an impartial zone on exchanged consideration; leaving out not only exaggerated aloofness but also amplified faith.

There was a strange kind of transient illusion in the room, which at the same time were both lively and deathly; it was both of passion and of abstract commiseration. The deep and endless cry of crickets filled the still room. And each one was awed by the inexplicable and awkward look of the others which darkened their faces. "Here we are. " They all thought. They did not know what to do. A feeling of unclear sense of worthlessness filled them up.

The past now was more precious than present, control was less important than memory of it. Mastery compared to awareness, seemed disenchanting, conventional, insufficient... They were all anxious for the present, that moment, to become past, not slowly, but very quickly. If the present was past, perhaps, just perhaps they could learn from it, or forget it, even love it with a peace of mind. Nevertheless, every second of present would become past, as though present never existed, the intensity would also become more severe and bitter.

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To Be Continued

Secrets- ~{~} Chapter Four

Ed had, in a very greatly developed shape, what others called contradictory aptitude, a flair to come into understanding, feeling, and mental outlook; and at times severe aversion to others. Nevertheless, he would not give up, he would not relinquish himself from what he called his service to people. Yes, for the last five years he was torn between the urge to sever completely, to disappear forever, and the others, the opposite urges, not to abandon himself of doing what he believed was his responsibility, not to renounce at any cost his position. Fundamentally speaking, he never felt anything for his first impulse.

His ambition, however, had always been security; and to him safety was only achieved by having money, a lot of money, and power which came with money. To him money and power were closely parallel things that they would never reach each other, yet one needed both so he could have each foot on both of them.

Coming from an Italian Immigrant family, he had had a very tough childhood. His parents worked very hard to feed their five children. He, being the first child, had learned at a very young age that either he had to live the same life as his parents', or do whatever it took to change it. His parents had met in America, therefore all their children were born in somewhere in State of New York. Being the first child of an immigrant family had caused his parents to expect more from him than their other children. School years were exhausting. Every afternoon, right after school, he was to be in his parents' shoe repair shop not only to learn the trade but also to help them out. They had been able after so many years of working for others to open that small shop for themselves.

Late in the evening, when Ed was in his room which he shared with his two younger brothers, he had gotten into the habit to stay up late and study. On the other hand he had no choice. That was the only time he had to study. His endeavor paid off and he finally graduated from high school as an honor student. He was given a full scholarship to go to college. That was how he was able to finish college and then he was accepted to law school. In his college years, he held many jobs, small or smaller to just pay for his living expenses. He had moved out from his parents' home at age twenty. They wanted him to stay so he would keep helping them. But he had to choose between his own future and the future of his siblings and parents. He chose the first. His parents were truly angry with him, but later on they came on board.

At age twenty three, he married this woman, ten years older than him, just for the financial support she could provide him. They had four children in six years, all girls. Ruth, his first wife, had come from a wealthy family. Her father, when he was alive, had given her and his other children what they were supposed to get after his death.

After marrying Ruth, they moved to the house that Ruth's father had given her. Finishing school now for Ed was very simple. He had the ambition, Ruth had the money. They stayed married in spite of their strange relationship. Ed truly never loved Ruth. For him it was a simple fact of convenience. For Ruth staying with Ed not only was a pure love she had for him, perhaps somewhat like a motherly love, but also was a strange dedication she felt for him. She also had this need to protect him. Simply she was an enabler, who even provided for her husband opportunities to do wrong things. She was aware of his affairs, unfaithfulness; nonetheless, she stood by his side, supported him, and remained his admirer. When Ed finished law school and passed the bar exam the first time he took it, Ruth bragged about Ed's intelligence even to her own parents. She threw a huge party for him in a very pricy hotel. She even hired a band to play music at the time of dinner and later for dancing. In the invitation, custom made, she told people that it was a formal event. She bought a beautiful, long gown for herself. She bought a tuxedo for Ed. The cost of that party perhaps would had fed a family of four for a year.

Who knows why some women, or generally speaking, some human beings act the way they do. Perhaps many women would not tolerate what Ruth endured in her joined life with Ed. She knew for fact of her husband's affairs, of his using her, and using her father's position and wealth, but somehow she did not care. She was or pretended to be happy when they were seen in society together. The way she looked at him, the way she smiled at him, the way her eyes admired him could not had been in any way false. There were many people, who questioned her simplicity, her being so naive. She heard all those; nevertheless, she did not respond, she did not care. She was there for him at all times, a true, real, dedicated wife.

She died at age sixty from a malignant lymphogranuloma. For three years, she had fought the battle with cancer. She lost a lot of weight, could not breathe without oxygen, and at the end lost the battle.

The death was a great shock to Ed. He, who truly never loved her, felt a great loss for losing his only true supporter. He definitely felt her loss from his life. He was devastated for a long time; but he got involved with women even more so. He did not date for five years, but he had many affairs. That was how he mourned his wife's death.

What more? He could not figure out why he did not care for his wife when she was alive; but after her death, he had his share of subdued tears, and that was all. It was like a weight on his heart he could share with no one in this world even with his children. Perhaps in a way, those tears which were real, were his way of showing repentance, a regret of the way he had treated her. This period was the only time in his life that he really was sad and regretful.

To Be Continued

Secrets- ~~ Chapter Four

He knew and learned in the law school that in any confrontation, honesty would always be a strong and vital element to keep one's nonchalance. He had preached that to his older children, the ones from his first marriage. He had asked his clients to be honest with him and to tell him the truth; John did. He knew that candor would confuse the challengers. All opponents would expect deviousness; with truth and sincerity one always would make the other side off- balance.

Knowing all these, he, himself, had not been very conscientious man. He had tried though; but when he had come to the realization that by being truthful, he would always be just another lawyer, there were so many of them, he decided to wait for his chance and luck to knock the door. Then John's father came along, offering him five million dollars. "I don't care if my son did this crime or didn't, I want him a free man." John's father had told him when he hired him.

He had found faith in fury! Did he really believe in religion? No one, even himself, was sure. He knew it was very proper thing to go to church with one's family; so he did. He tried to do everything proper for a lawyer, like when he went to opera with Jacob and his wife, or to a museum with his children. Everyone in his church knew him. But ultimately it was fury that was his faith not love or religion. His undoubted conviction arose from anger, a deep seeded anger that he was not sure how and where it had begun. He was passionately an assertive person.

Throughout his adult life, sometimes all of a sudden, his ongoing confusion of life had changed to a chilling terror. In the last five years, he felt that consternation quite often. Normally when he was like that, his face expression changed to a death- like grimace.

He was told numerous times that he wavered, acted evasively, had debility of direction, and came with so many ideas. For sure this very subject brought him to an obsession to do more wrong than right and to damage rather than heal.

Now he, in his brutally radical way, on the other hand, wanting to be devoted to his purpose- loving power, all of it, used or unused, was represented by an avenger, Tim. In Tim's opinion, for insulting one particular human being, his son. However the end would be all about the passion and misery of the person he had insulted. Ed was hopelessly wounded by this avenger. All he had in mind at the time of accepting the money and twisting the facts, was that one life was not that important when it came to happiness and financial security of many others. But now all he needed was human passion, love, and forgiveness.

He looked at all these impatient people, including his wife, who were waiting for him to open his mouth and spill out the unspoken. How could he? How could he tell these people that yes, he accepted the bribe, yes, he tampered the evidence, yes, he paid off many people to cooperate with him, and above all, how he did not care that an innocent life would be wasted in prison by his action?

Now, he needed courage, the audacity of a naturally timorous man who was determined to defeat his terror. He, who had believed he was a very moral, and honest man, now was confused about his own morality. His confusion was a great deal. Throughout his life, anytime because of weakness, or loving lassitude, or craving an easy life, or even absolute kindness of his personality, he believed he was a kind person, he felt drawn to relinquish the struggle for individual power or common ideas that he had had and just to leave the work and retire. He could do it. He had enough money to do it. But it had been the serious and moving images of his friends, he did not have many, that like an icon came to his vision and called him back to his chosen path.

To Be Continued