Clarissa Gets Served

"I swear to God, Pat, if I find out you're covering up any illegal activity for her I'll -"

"You'll what?" I interrupted. "Don't forget that I happen to know what kind of shit you've got on your home computer, Marion," I scolded, reminding him of the kiddie porn he still possessed.

Marion stopped dead in his tracks. After a few tense moments he said, "You didn't come here to talk about Hayes and his floozy. What is it that you want, Pat?"

"As I told you, my wife is in prison for assaulting Hayes. I want you to hold off on filing any charges until I tell you, too."

"That's my prerogative, Pat. I make that call, not you."

"No, you don't. Need I remind you of your nasty little hobby?"

"Shit, Pat," Lawson groaned. "You know, I AM the goddamned county attorney. At some point you're going to have to drop that shit and let me do my fucking job."

"I understand that. But not yet. Just hold off on the charges until I tell you to. If anybody asks you about it, which they shouldn't, just tell them that there is an ongoing investigation and you'll make a statement to the public when it is completed."

"How the hell are you going to keep people from finding out about her?"

"She was processed into the Choctaw County jail under an alias. Garrett Meyers is a friend. He's keeping an eye on her."

"Meyers? The Choctaw County Sheriff? Didn't that fucking old fossil run over a dead body a few months ago?"

"Uh...yes. Yes he did," I answered sheepishly. "However, in his defense, it was a wreck in the far west part of his county during a really shitty snow storm and the body was almost completely obscured by a snow drift. The State Patrol should have marked where the body was."

"Yeah, I'll bet that was really comforting to the family. I'm sure the poor undertaker that had to take care of the body appreciated that, too. Tell me again, how far did he drag the body under his Tahoe before he realized what the fuck was going on?"

"Mmm. Somewhere between 20 and 25 feet. Look, we're getting sidetracked here. Are you gonna play ball with me on this or not?"

"Fine, fine," Lawson said, waving me off and rubbing his face. "I'll hold off filing any charges. In fact, I'll pretend that I don't know a damned thing about it until late Monday afternoon or until you decide you want charges pressed. I'm assuming you're doing all of this to manhandle Clarissa in the divorce?"

"No. Well...not exactly. Okay, I guess a little bit, but just to get her to agree to the divorce itself. The terms I am proposing, not that it's any of your damned business, but the terms I'm offering are pretty damned good. I'm not looking to screw her over. She's still my kids' mom."

"Pat," Lawson said. He paused for a few moments. "May I ask you something personal?"

"Gee, Marion. Are we about to have a bonding session?"

"Not hardly," he snickered.

"Bummer. Oh, well. Fire away," I said.

"What's gonna happen with Clarissa when this is all over with?"

My eyes narrows and my stomach tightened. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he started, "I mean, Clarissa is gonna obviously be single again. And I was, uh, sort of...maybe... wondering if you would have a problem with - "

"Don't even fucking think about it!" I growled.

"What's the problem, Pat? You're obviously not gonna be with her. You can plainly see that my marriage is in the toilet. I promise to treat your boys - "

I stood up, slammed both hands down on Lawson's desk, started him right in the eyes and growled, "My boys already have a Dad. And my fucking soon-to-be-ex-wife is off limits to you, Marion. Do you fucking understand? Do you?"

Lawson just sighed, put his hands up in surrender and said, "Fine. Have it your way. But if I help you with this, I'm gonna consider us even, Pat. I want you to get those damned pictures out of that file on my server and I want those damned hidden photos taken off the internet. Deal?"

"Let me explain something, Marion. You and Bud Roberts used to fuck my wife in your little threesomes. You had the audacity to even tell me about it and try to humiliate me over it. Guess what? You and I aren't even. Not by a long...fucking...shot! We're not going to be even for a very, very long time, if EVER!"

I stood and made my way to the doors to Marion's office and unlocked them. As I turned the handle to let myself out I looked at Marion one final time and said, "And those fucking pictures stay right where they are!"

*******

I spent the night out at the farm by myself instead of with Shannon, though I really wanted to stay with her. Who the hell wouldn't want to spend the night making love to that incredible woman and her amazing body? But I decided to spend it by myself and finalize some more details in the plans for my impending divorce.

I skipped Sunday Mass the next morning and by 9 o'clock was in my department-issued and aging 2010 Ford Expedition. I caught up with US Highway 120 and headed south towards Cherokee Flats. The drive was about two hours and was fairly sparsely populated along the way. The road itself was 65 miles an hour so I made good, steady time.

The Choctaw County Jail was located on the north end of Cherokee Flats. It was a newer facility that contained the jail, the Sheriff's offices and even had a courtroom that served as an auxiliary to the ones at the county courthouse.

The jail itself was fairly imposing and significantly larger than the one in Mason County, which was still perched atop the Mason County Courthouse. There was a fairly good-sized exercise yard that was encapsulated inside three separate rings of chain-linked fence that were each topped off with three rows of razor-sharp concertina wire. Woe to anyone who was ever dumb enough to try and climb over the top of that, let alone anyone ballsy enough to have to do it at least three times.

The Choctaw County Jail was different than the Mason County Jail in one other significant respect and that was the visitation room. Visitors were only allowed in both jails for the lower risk inmates. But whereas the visitors at the Mason County Jail could actually see an inmate face-to-face, visitors at the Choctaw County Jail utilized a video system that would only allow visitors to see inmates on a closed-circuit television screen.

The room for visitors was located completely opposite of the jail itself and visitors and inmates would never be closer than 300 feet to one another.

However, if you're a sitting Sheriff whose wife happens to be incarcerated and you happen to be friends with the Sheriff whose jail you're visiting, exceptions can be made.

"Hey, Pat!" Sheriff Garrett Meyers greeted me at his office. He's been the Sheriff of Choctaw County for nearly 20 years. Garrett is in his early 60's, has a full head of perfectly coiffed silver hair but is still in remarkable shape for his age. "How's the first week on the job going?"

"It's going pretty well, Garrett. At least it was until Friday."

"I'm sure. I want you to know that we've been keeping a close eye on her the entire time she's been here. Nobody knows she's in here, either. Nobody came looking for her or been asking about her. She only made one phone call so far and I believe that was to her mother."

"Yeah, I heard from her mother. She knows."

"If you'll follow me, Pat, we'll head right this way. Although normal visitation is done by video only, we have to allow attorneys the opportunity to meet in private with their clients. So we have a secure room down this hall that we'll have you meet your wife in."

"Thanks, Garrett. I really appreciate this."

"Happy to help, Pat. And, by all means, stay as long as you need to."

"Thanks again, Sheriff."

I was let into a small 8 X 8 room with a small metal table and two metal stools that were all securely fastened to the ground, ostensibly so they could not be thrown by inmates at their attorneys. The room was not wired for sound or with video so as to maintain attorney-client privilege. I had also secured my personal firearm prior to entering the jail, as well, and also padded down and electronically searched.

I was there about five minutes before the door opened. I stood up as Clarissa was brought into the room in full shackles, which included handcuffs, ankle cuffs and a chain that wrapped around her waist and secured her hands close to her body as well as linking to the ankle cuffs. The purpose was to make it difficult for inmates to attack the correctional officers as well as make it almost impossible to run.

The tall athletic African-American female correctional officer led Clarissa to the stool and side of the table opposite from where I had been sitting. Once seated, her ankle cuffs were secured to a hook on the floor and her handcuffs were secured to a hook on her side of the table, further restricting her movement.

Clarissa looked like hell and that was putting it mildly. Her eyes were puffy and blood shot and it was clear she had been crying non-stop since she got here. Her hair was tangled and matted and she was obviously in need of a shower. She wouldn't look at me as she did everything she could to fight and hold back more tears.

"How are you, Clarissa?" It was a stupid question but the only one I could come up with.

"How do you think?" she replied, barely whispering.

"I understand how you feel."

"No you don't," she said as she couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "How could you possibly understand? *sob* How could you do this to me, Patrick?"

I leaned in and said, "I didn't do this to you, Clarissa. You are here because you assaulted one of my deputies."

"I'm sorry!" she said, wailing and sobbing. "I only got upset because I thought he was there to tell me something bad happened to you!"

"That's not true, Clarissa, and you know it. You know exactly what the procedures are in the event of an officer down. Hell, you've been through it before, remember? You knew damned well that Chris Hayes wasn't there for that."

"I swear to God, Patrick! That is what I thought! I don't care what your deputy told you," she sobbed, still unable to look directly at me.

"No, Clarissa. You didn't. I have the whole thing on video."

"How could you possible see anything? His car was parked in the driveway, Patrick. It's my word against his."

"Clarissa, several months ago we purchased small cameras that the Deputies wear on their uniforms, just like their radios. The cameras saw and recorded the entire event. Chris Hayes approached you, he served you the papers, and then you followed him back towards his car. You deliberately pursued him and were belligerent and provoking him the entire time. He put his arm out to stop you from approaching him and then you proceeded to use your left hand and slap Chris on the right side of his face. I have the whole thing on my phone. See?"

I pulled out my smart phone, which Garrett had allowed me to bring in with me. I pulled up the video clip and started playing it. Clarissa initially refused to look at my phone, believing until the last possible second that there was no way the whole situation could have been caught on camera. But as soon as she heard the unmistakable and perfectly clear sound of her own voice, she stopped crying immediately and stared blankly at the video, too shocked to say anything.

When the video had finished playing Clarissa looked away from me again, only this time in shame.

"Patrick, what's going to happen to me?"

"Well," I said, tucking my phone back in my pocket, "that all depends on you. Right now you're looking at an assault charge, more specifically, assault of a peace officer. That is going to be an aggravated misdemeanor. You could, theoretically, be looking at two to five years in prison."

"Oh, my God," she whispered. "Please tell me you're going to help me, Patrick."

"I will help you, Clarissa. But you are also going to help me, as well."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to sign the divorce papers. I want you to accept them, sign them and make this entire process as smooth and painless for us and for Nick and Jake as much as possible."

"That's what this is all about? You had me arrested so you could get what you want in the divorce? You son-of-a-bitch!" She burst into tears again and was seething, trying to compose herself and control her breathing.

"No, Clarissa. Make no mistake. That is NOT what got you thrown in jail. You could have easily accepted the papers and lost your cool with me when we spoke again. Instead, you chose to take a swan dive off the crazy board and landed yourself right in prison. Assaulting my Deputy got you here, not me. If you get one thing right in all of this, make sure you get THAT part straight!"

"Then how is helping you divorce me going to help me?"

"I'm going to help you get the charges either reduced so you only have to get sentenced to time served. Or, if I'm really lucky, I just might be able to talk Deputy Hayes into dropping the matter altogether. But I'm only going to intervene on your behalf if you agree to make our divorce as painless as possible. Do you agree to this, Clarissa?"

She looked up towards the ceiling in desperation. "What choice do I have?"

"Easy. You can either choose to help yourself or not."

"But I don't want a divorce, Patrick. How many times do I have to say it? I don't want a divorce. I don't want to split up our family. I want our family to stay together."

"Clarissa, do you remember what we talked about before we ever got married? Do you remember what we said would happen if either one of us ever cheated on the other?" Tears were now streaking down her face again as she closed her eyes, remembering our talk from long ago.

"We always said that cheating in our marriage was a deal breaker. You wouldn't put up with it from me and I wasn't going to put up with it from you. We always said that we could handle ANY situation other than infidelity."

"But I was wrong, Patrick. I think we can survive this if we just work on it. I know I want to work on it. I want to find a way for us to love each other again just like when we first fell in love. I want us to feel special again. I want to feel you love me and make love to me like we used to, Patrick."

"You know what, Clarissa? You know what I'm hearing an awful lot of? I'm hearing you say the word 'I' an awful lot. In other words, it is all about you. This whole sorry affair has been all about you. It is all about you and what you want.

"You know what I have yet to hear from you? I have yet to hear you say, 'I'm sorry, Patrick. Sorry for the hell I've put you through for these last two years. Sorry for the pain, heart ache and humiliation I've put you through'. I never heard that from you, Clarissa. And if you say it now, it won't mean anything because you'll only be saying it because you want to get out of here and you want to get out of a tough spot. There is no easy fix for this. There is no easy way out."

"But I really AM sorry, Patrick! I'm sorry that I haven't said it until now. But I know that the two of us are stronger than we think. I've seen an entirely new side of you, Patrick. I admit that I took you for granted but now I see how tough-as-nails you are. I've seen how hard you've fought back. And I know that you can fight that hard for our marriage if you really want to," she begged and pleaded.

"But I don't want to, Clarissa. I don't want to fight this battle anymore. I just want it to be over with. You have no idea what you've done to me. All I see when I look at you is something that used to belong to me but was taken from me.

"If we ever tried to make love, all I would do is wonder whether you were thinking of Bud Roberts or some other guy you were with and torture myself with thoughts of whether you were wishing you were with them instead of me. I would always wonder whether I was strong enough, sexy enough or a good enough lover to satisfy you. I would even wonder if you thought I was a good enough father to our boys. I can't go through that for the rest of my life, Clarissa. I just can't."

Clarissa sat there quietly sobbing. I hoped that it was because the realization of what she had done to me, our marriage and our family was finally setting in. But I also had no illusions that it could just as easily be weeping of remorse for the opportunities that she had that were lost.

"Please try, Patrick. I'm begging you."

"I can't Clarissa," I said, tears now forming in my own eyes and a lump growing in my throat. "There's too much there to overcome. I'll never, ever be able to get over what you and Bud Roberts did. I know myself well enough to know what I can handle and what I can't. You nearly cost me my family and my very freedom, Clarissa.

"There's no coming back from that. Just please sign the papers. Sign the papers and I'll do whatever I can to help you get out of this mess or at least make it less shitty than it is. If you ever really loved me or cared about me, please do this one thing for me. At the very least, you owe me that."

Clarissa just held her head in her hands and sobbed for nearly five minutes straight. In the end, she struggled to regain some shred of composure, wiped her tears as best she could and then accepted a pen from me with shackled hands and signed the divorce papers and agreed to all of my terms.

I would pay Clarissa half the equity of the farm and split all of our savings completely in half. I would continue to carry her on my insurance until she could find suitable employment that would provide her own insurance or for a period of one year, whichever came first.

I would help Clarissa find suitable housing that would be able to serve as a second residence for the boys as the farm would stay as their primary residence. I would also pay up to one year's rent for her to help her get on her feet and would also continue making payments on her Explorer until it was paid off. I would also pay for her cell phone for at least one year, as well.

My attorney Danielle Nichols thought I was nuts agreeing to those terms. In reality, it probably was. Hell, Clarissa's mother, Caroline, was now deeply involved with a man named Martin Belmond who was a multi-millionaire dozens of times over. I had no doubt that Clarissa's mother would do whatever was necessary to help her daughter. I did all of these things because I wanted to make sure that I treated Clarissa fairly and so she couldn't accuse me of trying to screw her over.

Using her time in prison as leverage might give some the impression that I was being an asshole. But if things had turned out differently and Clarissa and Bud Roberts had gotten their way, things would have been a hell of a lot worse for me in ways I can't even imagine. Bad shit happens to cops who go to prison.

I did have one little surprise for Clarissa, however. I did obtain a release order from the magistrate, Judge Hannah Bergen, granting Clarissa release on her own recognizance. It was highly unusual, especially since I had to call the judge and stop by her residence to get the paperwork signed. Even though Clarissa was being held in the Choctaw County jail, the case still originated in Mason County so we still had jurisdiction.

I'm sure there are those in the public who would raise seven different shades of holy hell over this, but I didn't really care at this point. The upside was that it would make Clarissa happy. The downside was the fact that I would now be forced to make the two hour drive home with Clarissa.

It took Sheriff Meyer's staff about 45 minutes to out process Clarissa from the Choctaw County jail. Part of that time was spent allowing Clarissa to have a private shower before being released. More time was spent signing paperwork and retrieving the few personal effects that she had. I brought a complete change of clothes for her and by one pm we were leaving Cherokee Flats and heading home.