A Case of Self Defense

"That's how you got promoted so quickly, isn't it?"

"It started with Susan," Jennifer whispered. "We were working late one night, and she came back to the office from dinner. She'd had a little too much to drink, and she called me into her office. When I got there, she had me go over some figures with her. She started stroking my arm, then my cheek, then my ass. I knew what she wanted. Hell, it was common knowledge around the office that she swung both ways. And everyone knew that her playthings got . . . perks."

"So you became her plaything," Ben said, his voice going flat.

Jennifer nodded. "About two years ago." She saw the disgust wash over Ben's face. "But Ben, don't you see, I was promoted shortly thereafter. The youngest junior vice president in the department."

"Who else?"

Jennifer bit her lip. "She introduced me to Alain," Jennifer said.

Ben double clicked on Jennifer 1, and the video popped up and started running. He scrolled forward to the middle of the video. "So that explains this, doesn't it?" Ben said. Jennifer watched the screen as she lapped at Susan's pussy, moaning with hunger while Broussard pushed into her ass from behind.

Jennifer felt her cheeks flush with humiliation, feeling both Ben and Rebecca's eyes burn into her.

"What could he do for you, Jennifer?"

She said nothing.

"You needed him to steal the money, didn't you?" Ben accused. "You knew all along where this was going, and you needed someone with access to overseas transfers to get it done, right?" She nodded, and he continued. "And you knew that you could set up Susan Flowers as the fall girl if it ever came to light, didn't you?" She nodded again.

"So who else besides Susan Flowers and Alain Broussard?" Ben said. "Judging by your conversation in the first video, you probably fucked Jeff Richards, too, didn't you?"

Jennifer bit her lip. He couldn't prove that, she figured. Their meetings had been limited to the office, in a car, or in Richards's apartment.

When she said nothing, Ben clicked the mouse yet again. This time, Jennifer recognized her home e-mail account. "My dearest Jen," the e-mail read, "I am so sorry about yesterday. You were right, I've never done that before, and I was too excited to go as slowly as you begged me to. I hope you're all right, and I hope this won't affect our relationship. JR"

"That was the night you said you hurt your tail bone, wasn't it?" Ben snarled.

When Jennifer said nothing, Ben clicked on her response to Richards. "Dear Jeff, Don't worry, sweetie. My poor little ass just isn't used to such big tools. But practice makes perfect, and I look forward to practicing with you forever and ever. Love, J."

"Did I ever mean anything to you, Jennifer?" Ben asked.

She looked at him, the tears now dry and a look of sadness masking his face.

"You were my whole life," she whispered. "Don't you see, I didn't mean that to him. It's you I want to be with forever and ever. I was only using him to get the money we need."

Ben shook his head. "No, Jennifer," he whipped back, "we didn't need the money. We had plenty of money. Jesus Christ, you drive a fucking BMW, and we can afford a full-time nanny. So no, we didn't need the money."

"You say you did this for the girls," Rebecca spoke, her voice soft. Jennifer turned, surprised at her interruption. "But all that time you were . . . with all of these people, you weren't at home with your little girls."

"And all of those nights you were out late fucking all of them," Ben said, picking up the thread, "I was at home with the girls, playing with them, reading to them, feeding them, and putting them to bed."

Jennifer said nothing, just staring back and forth between Ben and Rebecca.

"You're fucking him, aren't you?" Jennifer accused Rebecca.

In response, Ben opened the manila envelope and pulled out a stack of papers. He placed them in front of Jennifer and slid a pen next to them.

"Sign these," he said.

Jennifer looked down. Judgment of Dissolution of Marriage, the top document said. She flipped through the stack. Marital Settlement Agreement. Stipulation Regarding Grounds. Appearance and Waiver of Notice. Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.

"So that's what you want, Ben? You want to be rid of me so you two can go back to fucking each other?"

She glared at them, but both of their faces had become impassive, betraying nothing of their thoughts.

"You," she screamed at Rebecca, "you're my fucking lawyer. You can't do this."

"You'll see," Ben said, "that everything's pretty fair. We sell the house and split it all fifty-fifty, I keep my business in exchange for you keeping your 401(k) and retirement programs. We'll split the furniture and the other accounts. You get to keep your precious BMW."

Jennifer glared at him. "And the girls?"

"They'll stay with me," Ben said. Then he leaned forward and his face got hard. "The agreement says you get visitation, Jennifer. Reasonable visitation, too." She saw his eyes turn to ice and flinched at the hatred in his voice. "But you'll never exercise that visitation, do you understand?"

Jennifer gasped. "You can't–"

"Oh yes I can," Ben said. "You're dead. None of us is ever going to see you again, especially not the girls. Got it?"

With that, Ben double-clicked for the last time. She turned to the laptop, tears streaming down her face as the video started playing. Broussard was behind his desk, stroking his cock as he watched the screen. She watched with horror as she entered Broussard's den in a fury, a knife in her hand. Broussard flew from his chair and punched her in the face, and she kept coming, scratching at his exposed neck and penis. "Where's the money, you fucking bastard?" she kept asking as he flailed at her. Then she watched as she stuck the knife into his chest and twisted, still screaming at him to tell her where the money was.

"You didn't think I'd let a murderess near my girls, did you?" Ben said. "Face it, Jennifer, I'm holding all the cards here. If you make a fuss of any kind, this video, and your whole sordid scheme, comes to light. And you'll go to prison for the rest of your pathetic excuse for a life."

Jennifer felt herself go cold all over. "They can't charge me again," she said. "You heard the judge. Case dismissed with prejudice. That means double jeopardy applies, and they can't try me again."

"That's not quite accurate," Rebecca said. "You're right: The State of Illinois cannot again charge you with Alain Broussard's murder. However, the Federal Government can still charge you."

Jennifer's mouth shot open.

"That's right," Rebecca continued. "Double jeopardy only prevents you from being charged in the same court–in this case, the courts of the State of Illinois–for the same offense. You can still be tried for all of the Federal crimes, though, so long as the charges are brought in Federal court."

Jennifer was speechless. This couldn't be right.

"Remember Rodney King?" Rebecca asked. Jennifer nodded. "Remember all those cops were acquitted in California court and all the rioting that ensued? Then, remember two years later when most of the same cops were convicted and sent to prison in Federal cases?"

Jennifer didn't really remember, but she didn't doubt that Rebecca was telling the truth.

"You see," Rebecca said, "you violated the RICO statute. Because there was three of you, it was a conspiracy. And every time money was transferred out of Jensen National Bank and into your own accounts, it was wire fraud. All those transfers constitute a pattern of criminal conduct, which is exactly what RICO is aimed at. And when you murdered Broussard to get at the money, you committed a murder in furtherance of the criminal conspiracy. And guess what, there's no statute of limitations for murder, Jennifer."

"That's right," Ben said, and she turned to look at him. "So don't think about doing anything other than disappearing forever."

He leaned forward and glared at her. "Copies of all of this, as well as a time line of the whole sorry affair, are in a very safe place. And if anything–and I mean anything–happens to me or to Rebecca, this all goes straight to the Federal prosecutors. So you'd better pray that I live a very long, healthy life, and that Rebecca does the same. Because if you try anything, or even if either of us is the victim of an innocent accident, they're going to come after you. Do you understand?"

Jennifer was beat, and she knew it. Sure, she'd look all of this up, but it was clear now that they'd orchestrated the whole thing from the very beginning and had planned for every contingency.

Then she was confused. "Buy why?"

Ben looked at her with contempt. "You killed a man, slept with half your co-workers, and you need to ask why?"

Jennifer shook her head. "No," she said, "why didn't you just let all of this come out at the trial? Why are you letting me go? Is it the money? You're taking the money?"

"Well, we'll admit you surprised us with your reaction; caught us flatfooted," Rebecca said. "We just thought this would make the three of you start scurrying for cover, trying to uncover what was going on. But no, you had to go and kill him. We didn't really see that coming. We really had to think quickly on this one."

"But think quickly we did," Ben laughed. "And it really works out better than if we'd have just let you dangle in the wind before turning all of you in."

Ben leaned forward and spoke, venom in his voice. "First, we're not just letting you go."

"Oh no," Rebecca chimed in. "You get to spend the rest of your life without your girls, without ever again holding them or hugging them or tucking them in. Instead, you'll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, wondering if today's the day you get to go to jail for the rest of your life."

"And second," Ben said, "we're giving the money back. Don't you see? You know I'd never keep the money. But if this had all come out in a trial, old man Jensen would never have thought we weren't in on it together. No matter what I gave him, he'd always have doubts, always think I knew what you were doing. Now, though, we're going to give it back and we're going to lay it all at Broussard's doorstep."

"The trial made him out to be such a slime," Rebecca said. "No one will have any doubt he was capable of this."

"And I'm going to make it clear in my report just how sloppy Richards has been," Ben said. "He'll lose his job and never get another. That should just about break him for good. Between losing his job and losing you–I doubt you're going back to him–he'll be broke in no time and at the end of his rope. And Susan Flowers will probably go down, too, seeing as her accounting department missed all of this for months."

"And Ben gets to be the hero," Rebecca said, rubbing Ben's forearm and looking at him. "I'm the brilliant attorney who uncovered the shady prosecutor and freed an innocent woman, and Ben's the hero who uncovers the six million dollar heist and returns every dime."

"That's right," Ben said, smiling at Rebecca. "Jensen will put me on permanent retainer, recommend me all over the world, and my business will explode. Hell, we'll be rich, won't we dear?"

Rebecca nodded, leaning over and kissing him on the lips.

"Think about it, Jennifer," Ben said. "We'll have it all: Love, wealth, and two beautiful little girls."

Jennifer watched as he raised his eyebrows at her.

The look said it all: She'd have nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

She watched her tear fall on the papers before her as she reached for the pen to sign away the dream that had once been her life.

Finis