Chapter 47

Steve Ferguson

Steve played with the cellular phone wondering if he should call Debbie now or if he should simply act on his own suspicions. Somehow Judge Albamere didn’t’ fit the profile to an exact ‘T’ like they had first thought. For starters he was just recently appointed to the highest court for the Province, some said it was a mere stepping stone before he would be appointed to the Federal Supreme Court that would have an opening shortly. Many conservatives were appalled that he could be a possible choice and in fact many had been outraged by his appointment to the BC Appellate Court. Imagine what the outcry would be if he were appointed to the Federal court and yet thinking about it, he couldn’t be the one they thought he was.

His record was very liberal in some areas and yet when it came to child abuse, he was known as ultra conservative. He didn’t just hand out sentences but punishment to those who came across his bench for child abuse. He was known in Social Services as a real tiger in that area so how could he be involved in anything like that? How could he be in any way responsible for Cory Treat or his molestation?

There was no doubt that Cory had been sexually molested. The rule said look to the family and they had. The father didn’t have any real alibi at the time, least not one he had been willing to divulge and so Debbie and her department had narrowed in on him but what about the other circle? Most young children were abused by someone they knew and trusted, such as a family member; but if you ruled that out, who was left? Today they knew that meant people like Priests, Teachers and Coaches and once more Steve let his eyes glance down at the roster of names for Cory’s baseball team.

It was confusing to him, the Treat case had been so disjointed, so poorly handled and yet if you really looked at the file, all the indicators had pointed to the father. Even the man’s religious leader at the time had indicated that something wasn’t exactly kosher with Mr. Treat in a non specific manner that implied more than it said, which in many ways was typical. Funny how as soon as some official began asking questions people would come out of the woodwork to voice their suspicions. They had a lot of those about Cory Treat’s father, which had only focused Social Services more on him than on looking elsewhere.

He couldn’t help but wonder if, somehow, the Fisher incident was linked. After all, here he was checking out the Judge and yet there was the High School guidance councillor also and Walter Fisher along with his dad, Tommy. Funny how Walter kept popping up in places, he had shown up for that Schellenberg kid, too, according to Debbie. It was rather odd that he would, in his time of grief, suddenly show up at a police station in the middle of the night for a neighbour’s kid. It was funny, too, that in the report there seemed to be very little about any of the four men in the photograph, almost as if they weren’t even given a glancing thought, which wasn’t normal. They were in a position to be prime suspects and yet for some reason Social Services had ignored them. Could that have been simply because one was the high profile Judge?

Something else started to nag at him, too, as he stared at the four men lined up with their bright team jackets, their baseball caps on that made him sit back for a moment or two. If he followed logic, all child abuse cases were predicated on the abuser being someone who was in a position of community trust, who was in regular contact with the abused child, and who the family trusted. Looking at the four men, he just couldn’t see the Judge in that light simply because he was even then a high profile figure. High profile figures didn’t quite fit the normal pattern of abusers as most of them tended to shy away from being in the spotlight. They were more types who merely blended into the natural daily routine, people you would hardly ever glance at when talking about deviants or perverts simply because they barely registered as anything but normal types, the typical Joe next door type. The Judge certainly didn’t fit that profile as his name was constantly in the news about some ruling, some decision that seemed to shape the legal community and society, which would rule him out for that, and yet something still told him that there was more to the Judge than what was in this file.

Hell the man was having the file watched, he was interested for some reason in who took the file which had to indicate something, but was it what Debbie and he had first thought? If he were involved, wouldn’t he have been a bit more careful? His eyes continued to stare at the photo, knowing in his gut that some of the answer rested in that photo. His eyes roamed once more over the four men, and he glanced at the stern face of the Judge, the quiet thoughtful look of Cooper Strathmore and then over to Tommy Fisher and then Walter, when his mind clicked and he came back to Cooper Strathmore.

Damn it, of course, who else but a respected educator could have access, could have a power position over the abused, and throw in that he was also involved in after school activities and you had the perfect match. His mind whirled as he recalled the case of last year, where school files had been improperly filled out, where pertinent information had never made it to the ‘official’ files and who else but someone like Cooper could manage that? It fit, and it was also a link to young Cory Treat.

His gut was telling him that the Judge could answer a lot of his questions and that now would be a good opportunity. He stared at the house and then dialled one more number before leaving to confront the Judge. He knew it would be risky but it would finally put this case to rest, or so he hoped. As he listened for the answer, he realized that it just might open up a whole new can of worms too, which many of these cases did.

“Debbie… it’s Steve, listen I think we got this wrong.”

She wasn’t in the best frame of mind right now and to hear this only made her heart ache even more. First had been that cold response from Myron earlier, then a brief cryptic message telling her he’d not make dinner, that something had come up but he’d be by later, only it was later and he still hadn’t shown up or called. Now to hear that her only chance at solving this whole Fisher mess was wrong was almost unbearable to her.

“Steve? What… what do you mean we got this wrong? I don’t…”

“Listen, you remember that case last year at Mt. Doug? The one that got the superintendent canned?”

The mere mention of that case was enough to give people in her department a rash. If the old axiom of whatever could go wrong would, the case Steve referred to was it. From sloppy records to misplaced files to mis-directed complaints. Everything that could go wrong had and the result had been an appearance of total ineptitude by the school, the school district, Social Services, and everyone involved including the police who had raided the wrong teacher’s house, had charged the wrong person and then lost the evidence. She shook her head at it all as she wondered what could be in that file that made Steve think it had anything to do with the Treat case or the Fisher one?

“Yeah, but I don’t… shit, are you suggesting there is a link? My God.”

“Pull that file Debbie, I think our answer is in there.”

“But the Judge… he is the only one who could… how can he not be involved?”

Sitting there in his car, watching the lights in the upstairs area of the Judge’s house go dim, he knew that time was running out for chit chat. Either he made the move now, catching the Judge in a situation where he might just open up or wait, in which case he’d have no leverage, and he needed that if what he thought were true.

“I didn’t say that, I just think he doesn’t know why he was asked to watch the file, he isn’t that type Debbie.”

“How can you be sure, Steve?”

“I can’t, which is why I am going to ask him.”

“WHAT? Steve are you nuts? If you go ask him he’ll know that we, shit you could get us both fired in the morning”

“Maybe, or maybe right now just happens to be a good time to get the good old Judge to ease his conscience a little.”

“I don’t… are you sure?”

“Hell no, but the time may never be better, he uh, he has company, if you get my drift.”

“Company? I don’t… oh… him? Really?”

“Yeah, it would explain a few things Debbie.”

Okay let her think now, she thought as she tried to put together the pieces. If what she thought Steve was telling her was right, that the Judge was gay, which was odd because he had been married, then it might explain some things, but it didn’t automatically make him less of a suspect. Hell in her mind it maybe made him more of one, but the Judge gay? He had been happily married, so how could he be that way? If though, as Steve said, he had company, then it could indeed explain some things. The big question running through her mind though was that if it weren’t the Judge, then who could it be?

“Yes it would, it also could mean he’s up to it past his head too, damn it Steve, this could… damn my door is buzzing, uh, look it could make him more of a suspect, just what do you want me to do?”

“Get that file and I’ll drop around after I talk to the Judge.”

“Okay, I gotta go… you sure Steve?”

He really wasn’t sure, but he felt better with his hunches than he did about the whole scenario of the Judge being the one. It didn’t fit his pattern or his lifestyle. The figure who was now upstairs with him just didn’t fit the profile nor did the Judge really. In many ways he was above suspicion which in itself brought him into suspicion, but if what he thought were true, then maybe the Judge really didn’t know, and that picture on his lap gave Steve an inkling of just who might.

“As sure as we are ever going to be I think… yes I am.”

“Okay, damn whoever is at the door is impatient, okay. I’ll get rid of whoever it is and go get the file, meet you here or the office?”

“Your place, I need a drink, you got anything?”

“Yes I think so, okay, in an hour?”

“About.”

“Okay”

Steve put his cellular phone away and stared at the Judge’s house for a few more seconds before opening the door and heading across the street. He was taking a huge risk in confronting the Judge with nothing more than his hunch, but if right it could be the break they needed. His major obstacle was that the Judge was a shrewd man, what if he simply didn’t fall for Steve’s sudden appearance or worse, what if he really was involved like Debbie felt?

He straightened up and stared at the ornate door and then pushed the buzzer, keeping his finger on it for several seconds, then released it and pressed again. He waited, counting slowly and listened for noises from inside. He was certain he could hear some movement and he pressed the buzzer again, several short bursts to help speed things along. The sudden glare of a light coming on made him smile as he waited, his investigator’s badge in one hand, ready to show the Judge.

Dave Bartlett

He was breathing heavy as he lay behind the large rock and stared out at the row of more silent rocks. The patrol car was still using its searchlight and he could watch its progress down the street by the way the beam moved across the open spaces of the cemetery. His legs ached from crouching and hiding but he didn’t want to stretch them out just in case. Damn the cops! He hadn’t expected them so early and besides, it really had just gotten dark now, but there they were and he wondered if maybe he should just call it a night and try again later. As he thought about leaving, he saw Robbie’s face again, saw Joel’s face too and his brother’s, which made the anger grow inside of him.

His eyes could see the beam fading further down the road near the edge of the cemetery end and he breathed a little easier, knowing that they were going away. He let his cramped legs move a bit and the pain hit him hard. He almost cried out from it but bit his lip as he rubbed the cramp away, cursing the cops for going so slow. Shit you would think that they were looking for him the way they had gone by, but no way could they have seen him, the stone was large and wide and afforded him excellent cover from the road.

Dave counted slowly to fifty and then stood up carefully, his eyes searching all around to make sure no one was around or looking out. Satisfied he walked out from behind the headstone that had protected him from the patrolling cruiser and he slowly made his way down the cobblestone walkway. He could see some of the stones with ragged edges, chipped, and the writing all but gone. Some had little bronze plaques on them and he bent down to read one, realizing that it was in place of the worn out engraving. It was strange to see the funny lettering mixed in with the English, and the fancy script for dates. One read 1854 which was weird, another had 1876 on it and he wondered how the stones could have lasted that long, or maybe they had been replaced a few times?

In some ways it was kind of spooky, walking along and seeing the shadows cast by the various stones that stood up. Some didn’t have tall ones, some were short and squat, others were narrow and very few were huge like the one he had hidden behind and yet each one of them seemed to cast a shadow across the walkway. He felt a sort of chill in his bones as he walked along the row, seeing the white little pebbles that were on some, grey cement over others, and he shivered as he walked past them, the can of spray paint dangling from one hand.

He stopped as he thought he heard someone and quickly he whirled around to stare back from where he had come; but all he could see was the darkness and the swaying branches of the huge tree that had been next to the huge headstone. Nothing else was moving but he was positive he had heard something, someone, as he peered into the darkness, searching for the source but he could see nothing.

The palms of his hands were sweating and he rubbed them on the legs of his pants, switching the can of paint from one to the other but it didn’t make any difference. The instant he moved the hand away from his pants they became dotted with sweat once again. His breathing grew a bit shallow as he kept thinking that he wasn’t alone, that there was someone else here but that they were hiding from him. Could it be someone else from the team maybe? For a brief moment he thought it might be, after all they had all talked about this, had all discussed how it would teach those fag lovers a thing or two.

Everyone had agreed it would be a good idea but when he suggested they meet tonight to come and actually do it, no one had said yes right away. A couple sort of said they might but what had surprised him had been Neil. Christ he had been almost certain that Neil would be up for it, instead Neil had said he wouldn’t, that it was too risky right now and maybe he had been right. He did say the cops would be looking for trouble after the latest news report and damn it, he had been right; otherwise, why would that cop car have been snooping around already? Still, he hadn’t thought Neil would have backed off, besides he got off didn’t he?

Dave continued to wipe his one hand along his pant leg, feeling itchy and tense as he finally came to the end of the row of stones. He saw a really old monument that had that weird looking star on it and he raised his can up to start painting, when once more that strange sound intruded. Again he turned quickly to glare out at the empty cemetery and saw nothing but darkness and the blowing shadows of the headstones. He felt the icy chill running down his spine because he hadn’t been mistaken. There was someone there, but who? Why wouldn’t they come out, why didn’t they say something?

“Who is there?’

He waited, his voice had startled him and for a moment or two he quickly glanced all around, afraid that someone in one of the nearby houses might have heard him but no extra lights showed, no sudden glare of new lights blazed out as all that he could hear was his own voice echoing and the sound of the wind rustling through the various trees on the property. No other voice replied, no other sound returned his own and yet he knew someone was watching him. His legs quivered a little as he stepped back a bit, getting closer now to the huge stone that he had selected to begin his retribution, when once again the sound came to him.

The can of paint fell to the ground, making a loud metallic banging sound as it bounced off the cold concrete that jutted out from the base of the stone. His fingers balled up into a fist as he whirled around looking every way possible to find out who was there. Still his eyes couldn’t see anyone, yet he had heard them, he hadn’t imagined it and he was ready, his fists at his side as he tried to find out who it was and where they were.

Nothing seemed to move though; his fear made his heart beat a little faster and his breathing a bit more ragged as he tried to figure it out. Could it just be nerves or the wind? Maybe that was it; maybe it was just the wind playing tricks with his hearing as he slowly counted to ten, letting his body relax from its heightened state. Nothing really was scarier than being in the dark among a whole bunch of dead people and yet he knew that it was dumb. After all they were dead, what could they do to him? Still, his mind was conjuring up all the terrible scenes from all the old horror flicks he used to watch as a kid. He could see the dead mangled hands breaking through the dirt in front of a headstone or the glazed eyed look of some dead rotting corpse coming out of the dark bushes, and yet, even as he knew it was all in his imagination, he felt frightened, wondering if any of that could be true, wondering if the dead did prowl the grounds at night or not.

Finally he managed to calm his frayed nerves and he squared his shoulders, his mind once more focused on the task that had brought him here. He searched for the dropped spray can and he spotted it by another grave and he walked over to bend down to pick it up, when it rolled away just before his hand could grasp it. He swore a little as he moved a few more steps to reach it again and once more the can seemed to awaken and take on a life of its own. It rolled again and this time down the little slope and across the cobbled stones of the walkway to rest against a small white tablet embedded in the ground.

He walked over to it and saw the faded lettering on the chipped and small stone. The lettering looked dark in spots as if it had once been black in colour but that time had slowly eroded the shine until now it only looked dark in spots. His hand reached out for the spray can as his eyes scanned the lettering, reading it. His hand stopped in its tracks as the words registered on his brain and he felt a cold clamminess all over. His whole body shook as he stared at the small words etched deeply into the white stone and tears welled up in his eyes.

His mind knew it was just a coincidence, yet deep in his heart he couldn’t shake the feeling that now came over him as he read the words over and over again. His body shook now as he stared at the writing, his legs cramping from his stooped over position and he forgot about the spray can as he felt the tears trickle down his face. His hand quivered as it moved on its own and slowly touched the cold stone, the fingers tracing the etching to make sure it was what it said. His heart cried out as his fingers confirmed the words to it and he felt himself sobbing as he stood up and stared down once more on the white chipped rock. The can of spray paint rested against one corner, rolling back and forth a bit from the wind he guessed, or maybe from something else.

His head came up and he stared out along the path and saw all of the headstones sticking up in the darkness. Some were nothing more than darker shadows against the night’s own darkness, others gleamed a little as their white colour broke the dark barrier and through it all he could feel the wind blowing softly around him. It didn’t come from any one direction but sort of swirled around him and he stared, seeing more than he had wanted to see.

The anger he had for Robbie’s betrayal suddenly paled as he felt the deep, empty hole in his heart, the place where his brother had once lived. He felt the pain of his loss, of not having him around and he finally cried, wishing that Cory had never left, wishing that Cory had only talked to him or explained to him why he felt there was no other way out for him? Didn’t he know that he would have understood, even though he was just a kid? Didn’t Cory know that he loved him?

“Why did you do it? Why?”

His voice rang out in the darkness asking, as if it really expected an answer, but he knew there was no answer. Once more he saw his parent’s faces as they had come to his school and picked him up right from class. He had known that something bad had happened, but how bad he hadn’t a clue. All he knew was that his mother’s face was red and tears kept falling down her face, his father’s face had been very white and his eyes were red too but there were no tears to see. Instead there was an anger in his face that Dave had never seen before, an anger that somehow he had accepted as his own too, when it had sunk in that Cory would never be coming home.

He stood there, the wind swirling around him and the soft noise made of leaves rustling in the breeze the only sound other than his own heavy breathing, as he replayed that day over and over again. It hadn’t made sense to him then and it still didn’t make sense now. Cory had never said goodbye to him, which was what hurt the most he thought. He never said goodbye and he should have, they were brothers, they loved each other and had shared secrets with each other. Why couldn’t Cory have trusted him enough to at least say goodbye? Why?

The pain he felt made him reach up and hold his chest, the ache becoming almost unbearable as he tried to understand what it was that had made Cory do what he had. There were the taunts from some of the kids at school, he knew about that, there were the jeers even by some who were supposed to be friends, but was that it? Was that why he did it? It couldn’t be the only reason, and he racked his brain to try and think if there could be something else that made Cory leave him that way. Had he done something? Maybe that was it! Maybe Cory had guessed how he had felt about Robbie and maybe he didn’t want to share him, or maybe he thought that if he were gone, his little brother could have what he had?

It was too much for him as he stumbled forwards a bit, reaching the upwards slope now of the walkway and he stopped by the path, looking first down towards the wrought iron gate and then back upwards to where a small wooden bench sat. He moved away from the gate and stopped to sit on the bench, overlooking the three rows of headstones.

“Why Cory? Why? What did I do that pissed you off? God, what?”

The wind seemed to pick up a little as it played around his feet and his trembling body. The tree near by shook a bit harder in the wind and still his words hung unanswered. He stared through tears that were rushing down his cheeks and yet all he could think about was Cory and what it was that he must have done that made Cory leave him without even saying goodbye.

He looked down at his hands, at the way they trembled and shook, as he tried to remember that day and the day before to see if he could find anything he had done that would make Cory hate him, make him want to leave him without even a goodbye or a see ya or anything. The pain inside was real to him as he missed Cory so much, missed hearing him laugh, missed seeing him climbing the tree out in front of their old house, and missed most of all of seeing him smile whenever he would come home and see him. He missed it all and it hurt too, hurt more than he had ever allowed himself to acknowledge because he knew deep in his heart that Cory had left because of him, because of something he had done. It wasn’t Robbie’s fault like he wanted to believe, and he knew that his hatred for Josh and his family was wrong but if he didn’t hate them, he would have to hate himself because it was his fault, wasn’t it?

Slowly he stood up and wiped the tears from his face, feeling the cold of his own hands as he stared out once more at the silent rows of resting souls. His body ached as he turned away and walked down the sloping, slanted walkway towards the Iron Gate. He stopped there turning to look back at the silent rows of headstones and he felt the tears still trickling down his face, as he climbed up over the locked gate and headed back home, his pain and his loss tearing into his heart harder with each step that he took.

The Judge

The insistent buzz of his doorbell angered him as he had tossed on his robe and headed down the long ornate staircase towards the front door. Whoever it was that was calling on him now had better have a damn good reason for their behaviour. It was bad enough that they were here, worse that they appeared so impatient by the way they were hitting his door buzzer. His anger was real too, as he thought about the young man upstairs, lying on his bed in all of his regal splendour that only youth could display, and he was determined to quickly get rid of the insistent caller as he came to the front door and without even looking through the peephole, flung open the door to angrily confront the caller.

“Yes? What is it?”

“I am sorry to disturb you, Your Honour, but…”

The man had his ID up and the Judge could see the face matched the one on the photo ID but he didn’t understand what a Social Services investigator was doing bothering him at this time of night. He didn’t work nights as being on call for warrants or anything, besides, if he had been, his clerk or someone from the Courthouse would have called first. He was impatient to return upstairs as he glared at the man who seemed unconcerned that he had an Appellate Court Justice pissed. That gave him a bit of pause but not enough.

“Yes, yes, what is it? As you can see I am retiring for the evening, so what is so all fired important?”

“I need to talk to you about a case Sir, may I come in?”

“Can’t this wait till morning?”

“No Sir, I don’t believe it can.”

“Well what case is it? You know I can’t discuss any pending case before me.”

“It isn’t on your docket, Sir.”

The Judges eyes narrowed as he took in the man’s face and appearance. He noticed too that there was no car parked in his driveway or out in front of his own home. His eyes had quickly scanned the area and he noticed the car off to one side across the street, which had to be this Steve fellow’s vehicle. His instincts were now kicking in and he thought about the young man upstairs, and his eyes narrowed even more as he glared into Steve Ferguson’s face, searching for answers that remained hidden to him.

“Then why in blazes are you here?”

“Sir, can I come in please, we don’t want to give your neighbours the wrong idea, do we?”

There was no mistaking the man’s quiet determination and the Judge wondered what it was about. If it weren’t about a case on his docket, wasn’t for an urgent court order or warrant, then what in hell would make a chief investigator for Social Services come calling on him this time of night? He also wondered why the man would have parked off from his house instead of in front or even in the driveway unless the man had been watching his house, in which case he had an idea of just what was up with Mr. Steve Ferguson. Well, if he thought he could get away with it, all the power to him because he would need it.

“Very well”

The Judge stepped aside to let Steve into the house. Steve came inside careful to be respectful as he moved inwards a few steps and then waited for the Judge to take the lead towards where ever it was that they would sit down to discuss his visit. Steve wasn’t prepared for the Judge’s actions however, as he watched the man tighten his robe around his waist and then stand in front of Steve, showing that their conversation was not going to be in any comfort to start with. He had to admire the man, he was playing it like a man who had nothing to hide, but Steve was certain that he did.

“Well? What is so urgent?”

“Uh, can we sit down?”

“I don’t think so, you were the one in a rush, the way you kept

pushing my doorbell, now what is it or else you can leave now.”

Steve had to admire the man for his quick thinking. He had him at a disadvantage and yet every move the Judge made was to try and gain the upper hand. He knew that most civil servants would not enjoy standing toe to toe with a powerful figure like he was, hence keeping him in the cold austere hallway. Good tactic except for him, he didn’t frighten too easily.

“Your Honour, this is rather a delicate matter, I think perhaps that…”

His suspicions were aroused the more this investigator spoke. For starters, he didn’t seem all that cowed by his own demeanour, which spoke well in some regards for the man, still, while this man was respectful, he was pushing his own desires over those of the Judge. That was something that spoke of commitment or at the very least of determination. Just what was it that he wanted, and why was he being so careful as to not fully engage him in eye contact? Was he hiding something or perhaps he was ashamed of his reasons for being here? The coldness of his anger rose up and kept his emotions in check as thoughts of his young friend upstairs intruded briefly. He hoped that the young man would recognize the danger here and not make any sound to indicate his presence.

“Delicate? So? Speak up, let’s hear what you’ve got to say!”

“Uh, are you sure?”

“Of course I am, go on, what is this all about?”

“Well, it involves a child molestation case; uh, are you sure you want to discuss this in the hallway? I mean your uh, your guest might overhear us.”

Judge Albamere felt a cold chill run up his spine as Steve spoke the words very softly almost like he was whispering, like he was a co-conspirator telling a secret. He felt the dread come over him as he looked carefully at the man. He could see the way he was holding himself that he too felt the tension that had gone up a few notches with his comment. He took hold of himself, trying to figure out just what was this man’s angle, certain that it was not going to be pleasant.

“My what?”

It was brief but he had seen the worry suddenly flash across the Judge’s face and he knew that the man was feeling the tension. He hated this part of his job but he had to know, had to find out if what he was thinking were true and the Judge seemed like the most likely person to give him the answers or at worse, give him the next step in finding out.

“Your guest.”

“What guest? Are you implying there is someone else here?”

“I saw the young man come in and he hasn’t left, so I would assume he is still here.”

“Have you been watching my home?”

“Yes Sir.”

He had to give this Ferguson credit for knowing when to tell the truth and when not to. His instincts told him that this was not some ordinary case of a person trying to make a name for himself on a Judge’s reputation nor did it appear to be a simple case of perhaps extortion either. This man was clever and he felt the fear that he always felt whenever his own secrets were near to being discovered.

Judge Albamere quickly did a quick tally of what this man might have on him and what he might only be guessing at. For starters, there was something he was fairly certain that the man didn’t know, which was perhaps an ace for him that could deflect any accusations that the man might make. Secure in knowing that he wasn’t boxed in, he glared at the man, refusing to give any quarter in this battle of wits.

“On whose authority?”

“Like I said Your Honour, I am investigating a child abuse case.”

“Are you implying I am involved in this case of yours?”

“I think in a small way that yes, you are, now perhaps we should go somewhere to discuss this without being overheard?”

“I resent your insinuation young man, who is your superior? I think I should call him or her right now to see just what this all about.”

This wasn’t going quite the way he had expected. For starters he hadn’t expected the Judge to come out swinging but then he hadn’t expected him to be willing to co-operate easily either. Still his decision to not move this into another room gave him pause to think that perhaps he was misjudging the Justice? Could it be that the young man was not here for the reasons he suspected? Could he be that far off base but then as he stared at the defiant Judge, he noticed the small nervous tremble of the fingers. That slight tremor was enough to convince him that he was at least partially on the right track and he pressed ahead, deflecting the Judge’s attempt to cow him by invoking the ‘who is you superior’ ploy.

“That is your prerogative Sir, uh, before you do though, the young man upstairs, is he over the age of 19 Sir?”

The guy was good, he had to give him that. Well he had to decide, either admit that there was someone upstairs or stick to denying it, either way was risky and in the course of his career he had learned that it was much easier to defend ones self if you stuck to the path of truth. This man may think he was frightened of being exposed, but he was only guessing, there was no way for him to know if he were scared or not, or even if he were, how much. No, this would be better if he kept as much truth in his remarks as possible.

“Of course he is, I am not an idiot young man.”

“I didn’t mean to imply you were Sir, but are you certain? I mean these types do have a way of fooling even the most experienced…”

“I am certain.”

Steve had been taken off guard by the Judges sudden admission of his guest and he couldn’t quite figure out if the Judge was that smart or just practised at how to keep his secret a secret. There was no doubt that he didn’t appear rocked by anything Steve had said so far and he wondered if somehow he had guessed wrong, if somehow his hunch was just as off base as Debbie’s had been?

“Yes, well, you know that many have fake identification; being a Judge you know how easy it is for someone to get phoney ID’s…”

His face grew stern and he deliberately let his voice grow cold and menacing as he made himself stand up fully erect. This latest gamble was what he had expected, and he could hear the next line almost verbatim as it had been tried before but to no avail. This would be no different.

“Yes I am, and I resent your implication that one, I could be fooled by such a cheap trick; two, that the man upstairs as my guest is anything less than honourable; and three, that you think you can use his presence to elicit some confession or such. Now, before I call the police to have you thrown out of here and then proceed to see you are dismissed from your position, I would suggest you either come to the point of your visit or leave. The choice is yours.”

The fact that he had a choice even gave him some small comfort. If the Judge were blameless, if he had nothing to hide he would have immediately called the police, or at least the night desk at Social Services. The fact that he hadn’t gave him one last card to play, one last chance to see if he could get something that would help at least Debbie.

“Cory Treat.”

The name sent a shiver down his spine and before he even realized it, his body began to sag. The shoulders sloped down from their rigid position and even his head sunk a little. The fire in his eyes was suddenly doused and replaced by a deep sadness that no one could mistake. Steve saw it happen before his eyes and then he watched as somehow the Judge quickly regained his composure but not before it was too late. Steve had seen it and he felt like he had him, that at last he had found a mark even as the Judge attempted to gain time.

“Who? I don’t…”

Steve wasn’t about to let this moment pass. He knew he had to hit hard and fast with everything and he took a deep breath, wondering who would turn out to be right, his hunch or Debbie’s? There was no doubt that the name had deeply shaken the Judge, more so than a casual knowledge of the boy would elicit.

“Young thin blonde haired boy, 13 almost 14, committed suicide shortly after his parents were cleared of sexual abuse charges, short stop for the Lakehill Pirates, a team you coached then and still do, a young boy who jumped from a roof because he was being ordered back to his parents, that Cory Treat.”

The cold hard matter of fact tone didn’t help any as he heard the words and as he once more saw the glaring black headlines of the newspaper crying out about the tragic suicide of a young boy. He could feel how he had almost broken down completely and had in fact taken a day’s leave to try and compose himself. Yes, he knew who Cory Treat was and perhaps more than what this investigator was guessing at. His whole body shook as he relived those horrible moments once more, just as he did most every night since.

His years of training, of riding the political whirlwinds, and of keeping himself aloof from all that went on around him paid off as he collected his thoughts, and stared out at the man before him. There was no trace of the pain that was rushing through his body as he looked at Steve, no hint of his agony either as he confronted the man in a tightly controlled voice that oozed of confidence.

“Yes, well, it was a tragedy but what does that have to do with me?”

“You tell me, you are the one who has his file under surveillance.”

“That is none of your concern.”

The Judges voice had lost its stern coldness. Instead, Steve could feel a sense of sadness and regret even, and he looked closely at the Judge, wondering just what did he know, what secrets did he hold hidden inside?

“I think it is. Cory Treat is dead, there is clear evidence that he was sexually abused, the only question unanswered is by whom.”

His eyes were brimming with tears as he recalled the young Treat boy and his little brother, David. He could see them together now, playing on the field, always showing up early, always full of life or so it had been at the start, but that had changed at some point. He wasn’t sure when it had happened and then of course there had come the news. His heart grew angry as he recalled the events, how the television news had refused to name the boy but then calmly went on to say that a Mr. Treat had been held for questioning regarding alleged abuse of a minor in his care. There could be no doubt then who the boy was and he had seen the reaction from the other boys.

At first no one had said much, some had even offered him friendship and many acted like nothing had happened. That was how it all stood until the case had been dismissed for lack of evidence against the father. The only evidence, so the presiding Judge had said, was that young 13 year old boy had engaged in sexual activity, calling it sodomy even, and he had left it open as to whether the action had been purely voluntary or not.

That was all it took and he had seen the change come over the boys on the team as well as the parents, too. Many had called complaining about their little boy having to associate with one of those, with one of that type and even though there was no undressing, no group showers, parents still foamed at the mouth and threatened to remove their child from the team. Some even went so far as to demand the league expel the boy for being an unacceptable risk to their own children.

God what a horrible nightmare it had been and the kids had only taken their cue from their parents. Each time Cory or his younger brother arrived, the jeers, the name calling would start. If he were late to practise, he would walk in on pushing matches, and name calling. If he were early, the name calling would start and only end when he would yell at the offending child, and the other coaches kept their distance, all except Tommy Fisher. He tried to silence the boys when he could, but it was hard for him to see all his own neighbours and friends egging the boys on at times. It was like a feeding frenzy of hungry wolves the way they kept the pressure up.

Even now, so many years later after the horrible news came that Cory had killed himself, he could still remember looking into the boys face, wiping a small tear away as he tried to offer him hope, solace from the torment that surrounded him. He could see his eyes even now, and he felt their pain reaching for his heart even now, as if they boy was right there in front of him instead of being buried in Ross Bay cemetery.

“So you think that is me?”

Judge Albamere no longer looked like a threatening man who wielded immense power. Instead he looked like an old grand father torn by the loss of a grandchild. It was strange to see the transformation of the man and it touched Steve’s heart in a way he couldn’t quite understand. For whatever reason, he was certain that the Judge had no knowledge of who had abused the young Treat boy, still there was something he wasn’t saying, something that he was hiding and as much as it pained him, he had to dig further.

“No, to be honest I don’t, but I think you do know, or at least can shed some light on who it might be.”

“If I knew… IF… I would have told your department a long time ago at the very least, the police more than likely first. I don’t know, I didn’t believe that it was the parents, I still do not believe it was them, but… as you say, there was no doubt that he was abused.”

The anguish in the Judge’s voice felt real to Steve as he stared at the man who now shed tears for a young boy long since gone and for the most part, forgotten. He saw how his shoulders sagged, no pretence left in trying to hold his composure. The man was in pain and Steve felt for him, unsure really how to proceed further as the Judge’s face grew red around the eyes, as the tears began to gently trickle down his stern face that now was etched in grief.

“Then why are you watching his file? Who is making you keep tabs on it?”

He sighed heavily and then turned to glance upstairs. He stood there quietly for a minute or two, then he motioned with his hand for Steve to follow him. They went into a darkened room that was quickly illuminated by the flick of a switch. The room smelt of old spice and Steve glanced around the room, seeing the walls lined by several smiling faces of young boys. Many of them wore the team jerseys of the baseball team that the Judge helped coach while some wore a tshirt emblazoned by the name of a Christian summer camp and others were just ordinary kids wearing ordinary clothes.

The Judge walked to the one full wall and stared at the picture frames. He touched one or two and then came to one particular picture. His body shook a little as he stared at it and then took it off the wall, looking into the smiling face that peered up at him, and then he walked back to one of the big armchairs, signalling for Steve to sit in the other.

Between the two chairs was a small ornate wooden table with a silver tray. Two glasses and decanter rested on them and the Judge quickly put the picture on the table, pushing it towards Steve while he reached out with his other hand and opened the decanter and poured the rich brown liquid into one glass and took a deep swallow of it before offering any to Steve.

“No one! You may not believe this Mr. Ferguson, but I care for those in my charge, whether it is a boy who plays shortstop in one of the teams I coach, or a student in one of my advanced courses on law. They mean something to me, and when one of them is hurt, or in this case dies, I care, I want to know why, I want to know by whom, so yes I am having his file watched, hoping that one day someone with enough brains and insight will take that file and find the animal that turned a sweet young innocent boy into a corpse. So yes I have it watched, and I will continue to have it watched, as long as I have that ability.”

“I want to believe you, I think even that I do, but…”

“But why him and not all the others?”

“Well… yes, I suppose so.”

He sat back in the deep armchair, the burning taste of the cognac still fresh in his throat and yet he had hardly felt it slide down and warm his insides. The cold chill still held him captive as he could see Cory’s face even now. He could see the pain etched across his brow as the kids teased him, as they called him queer and sissy and fruit. He heard the words echo in his own head and he knew how hard it was to keep from feeling the hurt each time those words were spoken. He had devoted his entire life to trying to insure that no one could say that to him, had hidden his own needs for so long, and yet he still felt the pain each time they were spoken, even though they were never directed at him.

“I don’t know, there was something about him, the way he would look at you at times, the way he used to walk onto the field and people would just naturally get a smile. And then all that disappeared after your department botched his case. It all changed, an innocent happy child was suddenly a pariah, hated by most of his friends, outcast by the adults around him, his own parents even wanting to get him help, to get him to once more be normal, something I am familiar with myself I suppose.”

“Your Honour, isn’t there anything you can tell me? Anything that might shed some light on who it was that was abusing him?”

“That is just it young man, I have asked myself that same question over and over again, night after night and yes even now, so many years later I still ask myself who, who took that innocent boy and made him think life was hopeless, wasn’t worth living and I pray to God each night for the answers, but no answers come, none.”

“Are you positive it wasn’t the father?”

“I am, he just was too homophobic for it to have been him. If your investigator had bothered to check they would have found that out immediately.”

“Then the mother? I know it is rare but…”

“No, she was one of those who believed sex was a filthy thing and only was for the procreation of the species, again something your investigation should have easily ascertained. No, the parents were not the ones, but it was someone who had to have his trust, someone he relied on, I just don’t know who that could have been.”

“Did he ever indicate if it were someone you knew perhaps? Did he talk to you about it at all? Anything Sir, I just… I know this is hard to maybe believe, but if I can find out who abused him, it might help in another case. Please Sir, anything you can think of? Anything at all?”

“I don’t think that… no, I don’t know of…”

“Please, I think you do, I don’t know why, but did he say anything to you? Anything?”

“I don’t see how anything he said could help you, what other case? Not his brother? Surely not him too?”

“His brother? No, no it isn’t, I mean we have no indication of that. I don’t think we even know where his brother is, the parents divorced and she remarried didn’t she?”

“Yes, to someone named Bartlett I believe. They moved away but I think they came back last year. The brother, Dave, should be about 16 now I think.”

At the back of his mind he felt a nagging tug but he was too focused on finding out what Cory may have said to the Judge to piece it together. Right now he knew he was rapidly approaching a dead end, still there was that nagging thought and the other one too, the one that had made him sit up in the car but what was it? It was eluding him and he felt frustrated and helpless, unsure of where he could turn to for any answers.

“What did he tell you Sir? Please… if it has no bearing, I promise you, I will forget it, but please, it might be the key, please.”

It was like yesterday and he could hear the young tired voice, and he shivered a little as he wondered when he would be free of all this? Too much had happened and yet maybe not enough of what should happen, had? His heart had fought with him for years, and even now he had tried to act like there was nothing and even though he was certain that this investigator couldn’t know, couldn’t suspect, he felt torn between what he wanted deep down in his heart to say and what his mind kept him from uttering.

So many concerns to take into account and yet in his heart he knew that there really was only one concern, one factor worth following and yet it wasn’t quite that easy. Fine to say what was right to do but a damn sight harder to do it knowing that everything you worked for would lie in the balance. Christ he had seen how the hounds of hell would torment someone and ride them until they finally cracked and for what? For mere headlines, for a mere extra half a rating point so they could charge their advertisers more or pay their henchmen more?

He had fought with the press, with the ‘Hounds of Hell’ as he called them, for years keeping himself apart from them, using them if he could, ignoring them whenever possible; but if he spoke now, if he had spoken even then, he would never have the opportunities he had. By speaking then or now, how many others would never receive the Justice they deserved? Judge Albamere wasn’t under any illusions, if this came out, if he did what he knew he should have done a long time ago, then how many animals that he put away would still be out there, still plying their evil on the innocent? Wasn’t the greater good of the majority more important than one, even if that one was a mere child?

The answer was inside and it kept at him as he stared at Steve Ferguson, as he wrestled with the same question that had eaten at him for years. Looking at Steve he felt tired and weary of it all as he realized that nothing ever truly remained secret for ever. There always would come a time when eventually your secret would come out, the only real question wasn’t if but when, and as he stared at Steve he realized that he just couldn’t keep it any longer. Maybe he would lose his position and who was to say that was wrong even? Maybe it was time to see if that nagging voice inside was right or wrong, to see if doing right, doing what he always knew was right, would indeed give him that night’s sleep he craved soo much.

“I don’t… it was something he had said just before… I never put much, I mean he was feeling the stress, after all he was only a child…”

He sensed that something was going to happen. All of his years of experience told him that the Judge did have something and his mind tried to guess and yet as he looked at him, saw the turmoil within the lines of his face, he knew that nothing he could imagine would come close. Instead he sucked in his breath and in a soft but desperate voice he asked him once more.

“Please, tell me, I beg you Sir, it might help.”

“He knew he was different, don’t you see? To him what the adult had done he knew was wrong, but, well he said that in one way it helped him, it showed him things he wanted to know how to do, so he could show his friend.”

“His friend? I don’t…”

“Cory wasn’t just abused, he was also active by choice; he had a friend, a close friend who he shared himself with, who shared themselves with him too, which is why it was so hard for him to go back to his parents. They thought it was something they could change, that they could cure, and he didn’t want to change. He knew, even at that age, that he was different, that he was… that he was gay. He also knew that he might slip up, that he might tell who his friend was and that is what drove him to suicide I think. I think he never really hated the adult who was abusing him, he never seemed particularly upset by that, but he was frightened that he would give away his secret, that he would bring all the pain and horror he was experiencing onto his friend, and that he couldn’t let that happen. Don’t you see? He cared so much for this friend, he was willing to die in order to not risk telling his secret.”

He could see the pain written all over the Judge’s face and he felt it as well. He reached out for the decanter and poured more of the rich dark liquid into the Judge’s glass. The Judge stared at it for a second or two and then drank it in one gulp. He looked over at Steve and raised an eyebrow, letting him refill the glass and then he nodded towards the empty glass next to Steve.

“No, I don’t quite…”

In the back of his mind he knew he shouldn’t be talking but he had held this secret for so long that he couldn’t just keep it to himself any longer. The pain never seemed to go away for long and when it came back it was always worse than before. Maybe, if he shared it with this man, it might help, though somehow he didn’t think it would.

Everything about young Cory Treat had been amazing to him back then. Funny how sometimes you could meet someone who simply stunned you by their natural gift to make you feel good. It didn’t matter what had happened but the instant you were in their presence you felt at ease, felt comfortable and at peace. Cory was one of those, so too was that Fisher boy even though he had a dark brooding nature. Too bad about his younger brother too and once more the cycle of hate that he had seen explode all around young Cory was now exploding around Robbie Fisher.

“When it came out that there was no clear evidence that he had been abused, that perhaps it was consensual even, the name calling and everything began. It also made it difficult for his ‘special friend’ to be with him, to share time together and then, just before he… just before he died, he said that his friend’s mother had caught them together, and had gone crazy. She had threatened him and his friend with horrible things, even that his special lessons would end, that he would never be allowed at their place again. It was too much for him I guess, shortly after we talked, when I failed him, when I Mr Ferguson, couldn’t explain to a 13-year-old boy why it was okay to be different, why it wasn’t true what all those screaming adults were saying, that he simply gave up on life.

He was a smart boy, I think he would have gone far in the world, and he had a natural talent too, for basketball and all sports. He was a natural short stop and he could make plays that older kids didn’t have the mental strength to fathom but he did. He was a born athlete and all that died with him, because I didn’t have the nerve to tell him it was okay to be who he was, because I didn’t have the courage to take him into my arms and protect him and comfort him.

So, yes I have his file watched and I hope, I pray, that maybe one day before I die that the animal that did abuse him, that made all that happened to him happen, will be caught and punished. If not, then when I meet the Lord you can bet your ass I will want an accounting.”

Steve could feel the anger in the Judge as well as the self-recriminations. He couldn’t begin to understand how the Judge could feel responsible in any way for what Cory did. The kid was a just that, a kid and he had let some names and a rough go be blown out of proportion. Maybe that was too simplistic but it was the truth and yet here was a respected Judge blaming himself for it. In some ways he didn’t understand how someone as intelligent as the Judge obviously was could allow himself to feel such guilt and yet maybe that was just it. Maybe it was a sense of shame for being who he was and for not sharing that with Cory that made him feel so guilty, but how could he have told a kid that? Christ that would certainly have ended his career back then, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten his appointment to the Appellate Court if they had known he was that way, so what he did was natural. He himself wouldn’t hesitate to keep that a secret in order to get ahead in this world.

The fact that Cory was or at least thought he was gay made Steve sit back a little as he nursed the drink in his hand. If he took what the Judge said as the truth, and he didn’t doubt it for a second, then there was a witness out there who would know, who could tell them who had abused Cory Treat. The trouble was, why hadn’t that person come forward?

Okay, maybe back then he was too frightened or scared. Maybe all the name calling and notoriety of the whole situation had scared him off, after all he wasn’t much older than Cory, but why not later? Why hadn’t he come forward now or was it for the same reason? Christ all he had to do was flick on the television set and he could see all that crap going on about the Fisher case but still, if they were that close, you would have thought that now at least he’d want to set it right, to avenge his friend’s loss?

“Do you know who this special friend was? Maybe he…”

“No… I wish I had, I would try to talk to him, even now, but Cory never gave me a clue, just that they hung out together, that they both enjoyed the same things. If only I could have reached him, if only…”

“This friend, was he the same age or an older boy?”

“Older but only by a few months I think, but you don’t understand, they were active, yes, but not fully active, after all they weren’t really old enough. I am almost positive that they didn’t uh, that, well I think that any penetration between them wasn’t uh, well to be blunt, I doubt if they engaged in anal sex. I think that was from the adult, but the reports showed no signs of semen, none at all, so again, there is a great deal of doubt as to who did what to him.”

“The man could have been using a condom .”

“I suppose, still, if he and his friend were uh, were that active I doubt they would have. So I am almost positive that at best they were merely experimenting, oral sex most likely being the most that happened between them.”

The nagging feeling was growing stronger and yet he couldn’t put his finger on it. There was something that the Judge hadn’t yet told him, something he was certain he needed to know but what it could be eluded him as he was still focused on trying to find out who this friend could be. If only there were some hint, some clue maybe as to the identity, then maybe he could finally put this case to rest, could finally get the answers to the whole Fisher mess as well.

“He didn’t give you any clue as to who this other boy might be?”

“No, none that I can think of. I didn’t ask, I should have. I wished I had, but I didn’t, and as much as I hate to admit it, I know I didn’t ask because I was afraid to know the answer, because if I did, I would have to have reported it, don’t you see? I failed him in every way possible, I was an adult he trusted, who he confided in about his sexuality and I failed him, not because I was stupid or didn’t know what to ask him, but because I was afraid it would expose my own secret. Maybe that is why I am so interested in catching this animal, to salve my own conscience, to do now what I should have done long ago.”

“Judge you did your best. I know this is hard. I wish there was an easier way to go about this, but if Cory was active, could the whole abuse be a cover up for that? I mean maybe they got caught earlier, maybe by Cory’s mother or father, you said he was homophobic, maybe he caught Cory and this friend and so the whole abuse thing was nothing more than a cover up, a way to hide the truth?”

It was like going back in time for him. He could hear the reporters suggesting that perhaps the boy had simply lied to protect himself. There were the snide comments about how they really doubted that anyone could do such a thing to a boy on their own. Hints were given that if any adult was involved, it was perhaps a mere lapse in judgement given that the boy himself might have initiated the action. Oh he knew the words, the hidden innuendo’s that surfaced after Cory’s death and now, hearing them again he felt the sickness return. He felt the pain in his stomach knowing that a young boy had died not to protect some sick adult, some predator, but for a far more meaningful reason, albeit a mistaken one.

No one, not even now, wanted to admit that a grown adult could perpetrate such horrors on a mere child. Today still people would hear the reports and then in disbelief somehow wonder if maybe the child had been mistaken, had taken a well-meaning action for something else. Funny, if Cory had been a girl no one would dare have suggested what many had suggested about Cory. The old double standard did exist and being a Judge he knew it all too well, which maybe could explain his silence or could it?

He shook his head because he knew he was just making an excuse, still trying to give himself an alibi for his inaction. Deep down he knew he had failed Cory and failed himself in the process. The reluctance to tell the truth, to do what in his heart he knew was the right thing to do still held power over him as he wrestled with his conscience.

“No, as much as you might wish for that to be true, it isn’t. Cory didn’t lie Mr. Ferguson, at least not to me. He told me straight out when I did ask about that, that a man did do things to him. I don’t know if this means much, oh hell yes I do know that this means something, it is something I have avoided for too long now, maybe now it is time for it to come out, but well, he did ask me a strange question.”

Steve had watched the face of the Judge change from sadness to anger and back to sadness and now it looked like it was more resigned, more at peace as the Judge had made up his mind on something that had nagged at him for a long time. He waited silently, his palms sweaty as he realized that both he and Debbie were perhaps both wrong.

“Well, he asked me if being a fag was a sin like his friend’s mother had said, and I had told him no, that it wasn’t in my opinion a sin.”

“Well that is a perfectly normal question to ask I would think, I mean…”

“Let me finish.”

“I am sorry.”

“What was strange, was that after I told him that, he looked at me funny and then asked me…”

His voice stopped in mid sentence and Steve looked at him but kept his own mouth shut. He could see the pain written all over the Judge’s face and he wondered what was to come, afraid a little at what it might be and yet as he sat there waiting, he could feel a strange excitement creeping into him, knowing that he was finally on the last road towards solving this whole mess.

The Judge’s face was haggard looking now and as he stared out he didn’t even see Steve or the room or anything. All he could see was the once laughing face of a young boy who held such promise, such potential for good and then the image of his laughing face was replaced by the sorrowful one, the one that had looked up at him in quiet desperation seeking answers to which there really were none. How could he explain to a mere boy what he himself, a grown man and prominent figure in society couldn’t answer for himself, of why people were so cruel.

“… then he, well he asked me why she would say that to him when… when she had watched, had been there when her own husband had done the same stuff with him and with his friend… “

“My God… “

His hand shook as his mind reeled under the words just spoken. His eyes were wide open and bulging as he stared at the crestfallen face of the Judge who could have put an end to Cory’s misery if he had only spoken up so long ago. His anger grew too as he stared at this so called pillar of the Justice system as he couldn’t contain his disbelief.

“…and you didn’t…”

“No! No I didn’t, and now perhaps you know why I am to blame for his death, why I am so determined to make it right. I didn’t do anything. I was too scared of my own precious reputation, you see… in order to gain his trust, I told him the truth, I told him that I too liked other guys, so you see Mr. Ferguson, I am in some way responsible, if not fully responsible.”

Steve sat there stunned as the Judge’s words echoed within his head. It all was coming together now as he sat there, the picture of the boy on the table smiling up at him and the faces now of four men staring out at the camera came to his mind. There was the High School councillor and the Judge and the two Fisher men, Walter and Tommy and in a flash he knew the truth now or at least some of it.