Chapter 11

© Copyright 2006 by Roy E. Proctor

“I have called this press conference to announce my future political plans,” Jim R Watkins Senior proclaimed. The serious attitude in his delivery stunned the crowd that had gathered. How different it was from his usual light hearted and uplifting mood. Lights from camera flash bulbs didn’t seem as bright as usual. It seemed as though the air was uncharacteristically still as Jim’s words weighed heavily on the hearts of the listeners.

“I want to thank all of you who have turned out for this event. You have been a real help and an inspiration to me in the past. Now … as you all know, my term as District Attorney expires about eight months from now.”

Jim’s face took on contortions that indicated that his mind was in a stressful state. Fighting to maintain his composure he continued, “However, I’m announcing my resignation, effective immediately.”

The crowd reacted with mumbling and groaning as Jim R Watkins Senior had become an icon of promise and stability for several people in the community.

With much effort, Jim continued, “I also want to announce … that I will not pursue the office of governor.”

The crowd voiced their disapproval at the news. When they settled down, Jim continued.

“There comes a time in every man’s life when he must set priorities. I’ve come to the stark realization that my son has been relegated to second place down through the years. It’s time I reversed that error and elevated him to first place in my life. He’s all I’ve got in this world and I must take the time to stand by him in the months ahead. So, I say farewell and may God bless each and every one of you.”

Jim could not help but notice the silence as he exited the podium. How different from the enthusiastic responses of the past. Despite this “down turn” in his life, there was peace in his spirit. “This must be the will of the Lord,” he said to himself. “Yes, that’s the secret to it all, being in the center of God‘s will.” Somehow, he knew that the Lord would work all of this to the good.

It was quite a different story for the person of Jim R Watkins Senior, however. He locked himself in his office and started packing everything in boxes. Suddenly the gravity of the entire situation hit him and he lost his composure completely. Grief paralyzed his actions and even his thought processes. It wasn’t until well into the night that the lock on his door was turned from the outside.

“Mr. Jim, are you all right?” It was the janitor, Bruno. They become quite close down through the years. Strange how it developed. Bruno was sort of an armchair philosopher who gave possible solutions to situations that Jim disguised in hypothetical terms. The “what ifs” had run out, however.

“Mr. Jim, it’s ‘gonna’ be all right now, just you wait and see. The Lord is ‘gonna’ work all things out, okay.”

“Yes, thanks Bruno,”

The two men sat together silently for a time. Finally, Bruno broke the silence. “Mr. Jim, ‘ain’t’ nobody ‘gonna’ give you a farewell party?”

“Well … I never thought about it. I guess nobody wants to bother with it.”

“Yah, man, you just ‘poof’ up and checked out. But ‘yer’ not fast enough ‘fer’ me. I’m ‘gonna’ get some coffee and donuts and give you a farewell party.”

Bruno was out the door before Jim could make any comments. As he sat in the silence of what seemed like his grave, he sensed a divine touch on his shoulder. “See there. You’re all right after all.”

***

The courtroom was buzzing with activity. “DA’s Son On The Block,” read the headlines leading up to the trial. Editorial pages were ablaze with every writer’s viewpoint of the whole thing. The “juicy” news about the men’s bathhouse of the past did not appear. “My adversary is saving that until his opportune time,” Jim Senior thought to himself.

“Your Honor,” Jim Senior implored emphatically. “I realize that this is unprecedented but I would like to say something before this trial starts.” After much deliberation between he and the judge, permission was granted for Jim Senior to have his say. He mounted the floor with a calm command that brought stoned silence to the entire court room. It was as though the breathing of every person in the room had stopped.

“Your Honor, distinguished attorneys of the prosecution and the defense, ladies and gentleman of the jury, people from the press, those attending and most especially you, Jimmy.” Jim Senior’s words were very deliberate and one sensed their calculation toward painful honesty.

“In a court of law, the prosecution and the defense do the best they can to present their case. For that reason, I have decided to lay my heart before all of you. Most of you also understand that such total honesty simply is seldom revealed in political circles. It makes one vulnerable to his opponents and destroys the image of the “man of the hour” that voters may be looking for.

In my case, the aftermath of all this is totally irrelevant. As you know by now, I have resigned my position of District Attorney and will not be running for governor. One might say that these decisions leave me dead but one cannot destroy a dead man. My God, however, can resurrect anyone from any state of hopelessness and create a whole new life of resounding victory.

A big question has erupted leading up to this trial as to how a District Attorney’s son got involved in drugs. I will answer that question in an attempt to present the truth without any calculated distortion of the real facts.”

Jim Senior’s gaze fell upon the one that he knew was going to distort the truth for his own ends. The intensity and time span of his visual contact directed most people’s attention to a man who was squirming in his very seat.

“The truth is…”

“No dad, don’t,” Jimmy pleaded immediately.

“It’s okay son,” Jim Senior answered softly. “I owe you this.”

The courtroom, by this time, was filled with emotion.

“My son was coerced into running drugs by a certain Farone Jeondaire to be his kingpin for drug sales and distribution. Mr. Jeondaire had found a business license that was issued to me many years ago for owning and running a men’s bath house. I was not part of that life style but simply saw a way to earn a substantial amount of money from the behaviors of many men. Mr. Jeondaire threatened to make this information public if Jimmie didn’t cooperate with him.”

“So,” Jim Senior continued. “I have decided to free myself, in the months ahead, simply to be a father to my son and help him rebuild his life. Ladies and gentlemen, that concludes what I have to say. This case is now in the hands of the court. May fairness and justice prevail.”

There was little drama in the trial. The prosecution tried to tear Jimmy apart but he stood up to them was a calmness that disarmed the effects of every word. As for the defense, Rose Ann did a most creditable job of explaining the forces that worked against Jimmy.

“How do you plead?” the judge asked.

“Guilty,” came Jimmy’s humble reply.

After the jury returned their verdict, the judge issued the minimum sentence under the law. It consisted of ten years with a possible parole, after five.

“So, there is nothing now,” thought Jim Senior to himself. “I guess that Jimmy’s beautiful and gracious counselor will not be gracing my space any more. So … my love life has not been the best in the past. I’ll just have to adjust to the nullification of any hope for the future.”

Gross darkness closed in as Jim Senior trudged out of the courtroom into what seemed like empty air.

***

Jim Senior’s new office had a lobby that sat perhaps six or eight people. There was a secretary‘s office, which was empty and one inner office.

“Well, here I am, starting all over again,” he said to himself. “Maybe I can expand enough to warrant a secretary one of these days. I might make it back, as everyone expects lawyers to be crooked anyway, “he said to himself with a chuckle.

The sound of the waiting room door startled Jim Senior out of his thoughts. “Who is it?” he asked, while walking out to investigate. “Oh, it’s you,” Jim said.

“Yes, it’s me, the Counselor,” Rose Ann said humbly.

“But … I thought … well, the last time we talked. Well to put it mildly, I threw some pretty strong daggers at you. I really didn’t blame you, though.”

“Yes, Jim. You’re right there. The news was a shock. But that business license was from a long time ago. Then, at that trial, your integrity shined like a beacon. So, Jim was wondering if you needed a partner here.”

“Partner?” Jim asked. “You’re not with that law firm anymore?”

“No, I just decided it was time to get out on my own. I felt like a little cog in a giant wheel.”

“Mm, I would consider you as a partner. Of course at this stage you might have to double as … well let’s say… an executive secretary, slash investigator.”

“Well, I suppose that’s better than office girl, I should think.”

“Come to think of it, I’ve got a better position for you. Of course it would require special and personal permission on your part.”

“Oh, and what might that be?”

“Helpmate,” Jim replied with a pleading look on his face.

“Oh, Why … Okay. But what would we call this firm, Rose Ann Watkins and Husband?”

“No way, woman. Haven’t you heard? The man is to be the head of the house.”

“Yes, Dear Jim, but this isn’t a house, now is it?”

“Look, woman, I started this business, so I get to choose its name.”

“Well, yes but you need me. So, it will be James R. Watkins and wife.

“No Husband and Rose Ann.”

“Stop,” Jim said, throwing his hands up. “We’ll never get anywhere this way. So how about simply Watkins and Watkins?”

Rose Ann thought for a minute. “You know James R Watkins, that sounds pretty cool. You’ve got yourself a deal.”






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