There are no graphic sex scenes in this story. This story is a very dark tale and a lot different than most of my writings.
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We were informed that the jury had reached a verdict and were waiting for them to come back into the court room. There is an undercurrent of noise running through the court; it's subtle and muted, but you can hear people talking. They are all wondering if I will be sent to prison; I'm wondering the same thing. Will I be acquitted or sent to jail?
I hope to be released, but it really doesn't make a lot of difference. Freedom would be much better than incarceration but either way it goes, I did what I thought had to be done. Not for me, but for my family and most other families in this city. I can live with that.
The reason I'm here is because of my actions and reactions and I will accept the consequences. I didn't start or cause the problem but I was the final solution.
My name is Nathaniel Thomas Clark; my family has always believed in personal freedom and I was named after two patriots of the American Revolution. It's not really important, but it does help explain my beliefs and actions. I was arrested on my birthday as I turned 63. Yeah, I know, a little old to start a life of crime.
I was drafted into the Army after I graduated from high school in 1963; I spent 30 years in the service of my country. I wasn't a Ranger, Green Beret, or Special Forces; I was just a man doing a job and retired as a Master Sergeant. I could have retired as a First Sergeant or even a Sergeant Major but I refused the promotions because I wanted to stay close to the men in the squad and the company. I did serve three tours in Southeast Asia and on my first tour expanded my knowledge of hand to hand combat.
My counterpart with the ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam) was a master in several forms of martial arts; he spent a lot of time sharing what he knew and I was a good student. I was pretty big at 6' 3" 200 pounds and coupled with my training it made me a very dangerous man.
A few months prior to my trial, I got a call from my brother, Zachery. It was not a social call about his family or how was I doing or why I hadn't come for a visit. He wanted and needed my help because his granddaughter, Alyssa, had been car jacked and his grandson, Jake, had been beaten.
Zack's son, Robert and his wife Mary had been killed in a car crash when the children were very young. Their only living relatives were Zack, his wife Beth, and me so the kids came to live with Zack.
The three guys took Alyssa and her car behind some shops in a strip mall where these sorry excuses for men beat her up badly. One of the store owners was working late, saw what they were doing and called the police. The animals were in the process of ripping off her clothes when they heard the sirens and took off in her car.
The 17 year old Alyssa would grab any man's attention. She is tall like her father and grandfather with a slender athletic body with strawberry blond hair and green eyes from her mother. I understood the attraction to her by the three men but I couldn't and wouldn't forgive their actions.
Alyssa gave the police descriptions of all three assholes while she was in the ER being treated for her injuries. She was bruised, sore, and had a few minor cuts but basically she was okay. The quick action by the store owner saved her from being raped. Two days later the police arrested three men while they were driving Alyssa's car. She went down to the police station with her father and picked them out of a line up; the men were charged and held over for trial.
Apparently they made bail. Three days after being released, they started getting threatening phone calls about what would happen if Alyssa testified. A couple of days later, Jake was grabbed on his way home from school and roughed up a bit. It wasn't really serious, but he would have a black eye and his top lip was cut.
Jake said that a van pulled up, two men jumped out and smacked him around. After the first punch Jake kicked one the guys in the family jewels and then just tried to cover up and didn't get a good look at the guy beating on him. Jake said it was a white van but he didn't get the license number.
Alyssa was at home when Jake came in and called her father. Zack rushed home from work and called the cops but the police said that if Jake couldn't identify who beat him up that they couldn't do anything. The police said they didn't have the man power to guard his family and told Zack to be keep the family close and to be careful. That's when he called me asking for my help in guarding his family
Zack is a couple of years older than me with the same features inherited from our father; at 6' 4" and 220 pounds we share the same body type. Our black hair and blue eyes and our family resemblance have sometimes led people to think we're twins. He was my best friend growing up and always had my back. The difference in our temperament and philosophy usually complemented each other.
Normally Zack would try to talk rather than fight when there was a problem. He wasn't a coward, he just felt talking it out was better than fighting if at all possible. Not me, I was always ready to take names, kick ass, and talk later. We have the same beliefs, just a different way of getting our way. He was like Teddy Roosevelt, "Talk softly but carry a big stick".
I was more like General Patton, "May God have mercy on my enemies, because I won't."
You need to understand my philosophy to understand me and how I react to things. I will put up with a certain amount of bullshit. Once that bullshit quota has been reached, I will do what is necessary to put an end to it. It takes a lot to push me over the edge, but once I go over that edge I will go all the way. I have no compassion or sympathy for anyone but my family and my friends. I have learned to disengage my mind and I don't lose any sleep over the things I have done or have to do.
I listened to Zack for about 10minutes. When he wound down, I told him I would be at his house by daylight. "Just hang in there, the Calvary is on the way," I tried to reassure him.
Packing took less than an hour because I always keep a "kit" ready to go. I live off of my pension and some investments I made while in the Army. Therefore I didn't have to check with a job or boss to see if I could have time off. It wouldn't have mattered; I would have gone to help my family no matter what a boss or supervisor said. I didn't have a wife to check with either.
I had married a pretty young nurse after my second tour in Vietnam; she was a nurse in the hospital where I was recovering. I was in the hospital because my body did not react well to bullets and Sally took a liking to the crusty old dogface. I wasn't a very good patient and yelled at the other nurses but she wouldn't put up with it.
She would tell me to pipe down and do what I was supposed to. I was impressed with this young nurse that put me in my place. We began to kid each other about who was a better sergeant. As I was leaving the hospital I asked her to go to dinner with me and our romance developed quickly. Apparently Sally saw something worthwhile in the battle hardened solider.
We had some wonderful years together in spite of some of the duty stations we lived at. After being married for a couple of years, I was going to be stationed at Fort Sill in Oklahoma for at least three years as an instructor so we decided to start a family. I came home one day from teaching some of the Second Lieutenants how to find their asses without using a road map and was a little stressed out. I remember thinking that the Army was in bad shape if these guys were our future military leaders.
Sally met me just inside the door of our apartment in a pair of high heels and a velvet chocker around her neck. She handed me a cold beer and began to unbutton my shirt; so much for the stress from work. I picked her up before she could get my shirt off and carried her into our bedroom. About an hour later as I was holding her and drinking the now warm beer she told me I was going to be a father. "Sergeant Daddy" she called me.
Two months later Sally's car was hit broadside by a drunk driver. Both Sally and the baby were killed. I was alone again. We had been married a little over five years.
So the only person I wanted to call before I left was Stella. Her husband Jackson and I served together in Vietnam. He and I were on the same flight to the paradise of Southeast Asia on our all expenses paid tour provided by the U.S. Army. We became friends and spent all of my first tour in the same company. Jackson lost his battle with cancer shortly before I got out of the army. I met Stella at one of the reunions of the company after I retired. We began to spend time together since we both lived in San Diego and now are more of a friends with benefits relationship than a couple. Still, she would worry if she didn't hear from me.
I told her where I was going and why. Then I asked her, "Pick up my mail will ya hon."
"Sure, no problem, Nate. How long will you be gone?"
"Don't know for sure, I'll call you when I get an idea. Open the mail and if anything needs my attention, call me please," I requested.
.... There is more of this story ...