Chapter 19.   Some Who Would Heal

About two weeks after the meeting with Masterson things finally came to a head.  I had a meeting scheduled for 3 pm one afternoon at the offices of Richmond Slendabond where I knew I would be conferencing with Morgan Richmond, Stephanie’s attorney and Stephanie herself.

But first I had promised my brother that I would pick up his boy Steven, a fourth-grader whose school would be letting out at 11:30 am today because of parent teacher conferences scheduled all this week.  I pulled into the parking lot of Steven’s private elementary school a little before 11:30 and waited for the kids to come out.  When it got to be 11:35 and no sign of the kids yet I realized there may have been some mistake about the time.  I parked and went into the school.  A helpful desk attendant spoke to me.

“Can I help you sir?”

“Yes”, I replied, “I am here to pickup Steven Steelforth.  I understood his class would be letting out at 11:30.”

“Actually they will be getting out at 12 noon.  Here, let me see …  Steven is in Ms. Wilson’s class in Room 104.  That is just ahead on the left sir.  If you would like you can go in the rear door of that room and quietly observe the class until the bell.”

“Thank you.  I think I will do that”, I said and walked up to the rear door of 104.  I really didn’t want to meet little Steven’s teacher today since I knew this Ms. Wilson in an entirely different way from only a few weeks ago.  Yet there seemed little alternative but to do as the desk attendant had suggested and go to Room 104.

As I entered quietly I heard a softly familiar voice lecturing the students from the blackboard.  The beautiful woman up front had satisfied my impulses when I met her as a ‘working girl’ not so long ago.  She went by the name Sheila Brown then.  I felt embarrassed that I would soon be speaking to someone I had known intimately three weeks ago but now in an entirely different context and in the presence of my nephew.  I told myself that she had serviced a lot of customers before and since and probably would not remember me.  At least I hoped that would be the case.

Ms. Wilson was explaining the “Intelligentsia Driven Media” system, or IDM system, that Capitallia had enacted into law a few years after it’s founding.  She was explaining that, unlike the old USA or the US Remnant of today, radio and TV broadcasting of news, entertainment and the arts in Capitallia was paid for entirely by subscription and not by advertising of beer, soap and other products.  Further that only certain people, the “best and the brightest” as she put it, were the paid subscribers for these services, while others got free access to many of the programs.  One little girl put her hand up.

“Why do we not have our radio and TV programs for free as they do in USR?” the little blonde in the second row asked.

“I am glad you asked, Emily.  It is because our leaders realized that letting beer and soap sales determine what programs would be broadcast led to a general lowering of standards in news reporting, in music and in entertainment programs.  Only programs that appealed to the overwhelming masses of people could get any time or space in the airwaves.  So the old USA and now the USR wound up with their TV sets dominated by silly game shows, reality shows, sitcoms and news shows that really did not report significant world or national events anymore.  All the space on the radio dials came to be taken up with hip-hop and gansta rap music, much of it violent and obscene.  There was no room in radio anymore for the best contemporary music let alone the best music of all time.”

My nephew Steven had his hand up.

“So who are these ‘intelligentsia’ people who choose our programs now?” he asked.

“They are folks who show an interest in world history, world affairs and national affairs as well as in cultural things like drama, dance, classical music, ballet and opera. They show they are knowledgeable about these things by passing tests given every two years. They are also people who are successful enough in life that they can afford to buy subscriptions to our TV and radio stations.  The programming they express a desire to see is what gets shown on TV and heard on radio stations.  Other people get to see some but not all of these programs for free.”

“But what about the others” Steven persisted “the ones who aren’t so smart or don’t know or care anything about world history or culture.  Don’t they ever get to see the programs they want to see or hear their kind of music?”

“Good question, Steven.  Actually they do have two TV networks and two or three radio stations reserved for them.  They have to pay for a subscription to watch those TV stations or listen to their own radio stations, so many of those folks who can’t afford a subscription just listen to the free music on the Intelligentsia Networks.  As a result the common people in this country are learning to like better quality music than most of the people in USR today.”

“It is almost time to end today, so let me give you your homework assignment.  I want you all to run Internet searches on your home computers on the key words “Intelligentsia Driven Media”.  You will find a lot more material on what we covered today.  I want each of you to bring in something you found to share with the class tomorrow.  Class dismissed.”

I went forward to collect little Steven, hoping she would not notice me.  I kept my head down.

“Hello Mr. Steelforth”, she called out brightly. “I assume you are Steven’s uncle.”

I looked in her direction.  Something in her voice and facial expression told me that she did remember me from that night three weeks ago.  I saw her face coloring just a bit, even as I felt my own face coloring.

“Yes, Ms. Wilson”, I replied.  “My brother asked me to pick him up today.  It certainly looks like you have an interesting lesson plan for today.”

“I try, Mr. Steelforth, I try.  Sometimes a teacher in my position has to put forth a bit of extra effort just to stay ahead of things, if you catch my drift!”

“I can surely appreciate that, Ms. Wilson.  I know that teacher salaries haven’t always been as high as they should be.”

Hopefully she and I were communicating on a level that would go well above little Steven’s head.  He didn’t seem to be following this exchange too intently.  I noticed that by now all the other kids had left the classroom.  Just then she raised her voice a bit and looked directly at him.

“Steven, I wonder if you could do me a really big favor?”

“Sure Ms. Wilson.  What is it?”

“I have attendance reports for this week that I promised to get to the principal’s office by noon today.  Do you think you could take them up to the second floor office and give them to the secretary there?”

She handed him an envelope that he eagerly took and he was on his way.  I suspected she had invented this errand for him because she wanted a private word with me.  We found ourselves alone and it was an awkward moment at first.

“Mr. Steelforth, what we did three weeks ago … you understand I hope that is another life that I try to keep entirely separate from my work here as an elementary school teacher.  No one connected with the school, except you, knows about my ‘other line of work’.  I hope you will be discreet since it could jeopardize my position here if my principal knew of that life.

“You have nothing to worry about from me.  I can see you are an excellent teacher and I am the very soul of discretion.”

“Thank you.  I read the review you posted online about our little sex encounter and I must thank you for that as well!  As you can well imagine not all the Johns … I mean clients, take the time to do a review of a paid sex encounter.  Now all the guys down on Fourth Street that look me up under my working name will see that you gave ‘Sheila Brown’ a good rating and that I was - how did you put it - ‘very pneumatic’!  That should be good for my business down there!”

“I felt I owed that to you after the fine ride you gave me.  I didn’t really expect to get so much from a casual street transaction.”

“I get pleasure from giving my clients pleasure, Mr. Steelforth.  It isn’t just ‘another day, another dollar’ you know.”

“I believe you Sheila … I mean Ms. Wilson.”

“There is a favor I would like to ask you Bill, if I may call you that.  I have applied for a part-time position as a sex surrogate with a sex-surrogate agency.  In that job I will be working under the supervision of qualified sex therapists who help men with problems of sexual dysfunction.  My job will be to act as a sex partner and sex technique teacher for these men who are practicing new techniques they are learning in therapy.  Perhaps you can appreciate that I would find that more satisfying than just turning tricks down on Fourth Street!”

“I can indeed.  It would seem an excellent way to combine your natural teaching skills with the sex knowledge you have undoubtedly picked up in your other work.  But what was the favor you wanted from me, Ms. Wilson?”

“Call me Sherri please!  I need a reference.  I need someone who can write a letter for me that will speak to both my teaching ability and my level of sexual skill.  You have experienced my sexual skills.  After reading that review you wrote about me I think you might be the person ideally qualified to give me the letter of reference I need.”

“Would you want me to do this using my actual name of Bill Steelforth?”

“I would prefer it that way.  You don’t have to say that your sex with me was a prostitution transaction.  You could speak as just a friend who had a sexual liaison with me and is also familiar with my classroom teaching skills.  You are well known in this town for your own profession Bill, so that your endorsement would carry some weight.  I know you are not married, so what difference would it make if you admitted, in your letter of reference, to having had sex with me?”

I swallowed hard and hesitated for a moment.  Then I thought why not go for it.  She was right.  What difference did it make since I wasn’t married or in any committed relationship at present?  

“I will do this for you Ms. Wilson … I mean Sherri.  Just tell me who I am to write to.”

“Here is all the information.”  She passed me an envelope just as little Steven returned from his errand to the principal’s office.

She smiled and waved as I escorted him out of the classroom.

On the way to his home he had a question for me.

“Uncle Bill, do you like Ms. Wilson?”

“Yes I do, Steven.  Very much.”

“Last week she was teaching us about slavery … I mean how some people are made into slaves to punish them for doing bad things to others.  Isn’t that what you do Uncle Bill?”

“That is the work I have been doing for the last 20 years, Steven.  Did Ms. Wilson explain why we punish people in that way?”

“Yeah - she said down south in the USR they don’t make people be slaves.  They just lock them up in little cages for 10 or 20 years, or sometimes for the rest of their lives.  She said what we do in Capitallia is better because it is more humane and also the slaves pay for their own food, housing and medicines by working for others in the community.  She said that is better than making the taxpayers pay for all that and treating human beings like animals in cages.”

“She taught you well my little man.”

After I dropped Steven at his home, I found myself driving out to Richmond Slendabond’s offices, on a beautiful fall day, to meet with Morgan Richmond and attorney Green. I was ushered into Morgan’s large walnut paneled office on the top floor.  Green was already there and extended his hand in greeting.

“Bill Steelforth, we meet again!”

“I think we all know each other here, so no need for any further introductions”, Morgan said.

A coffee service tray was already there and I helped myself to a cup.  Soon thereafter a conservatively dressed secretary ushered in Stephanie.  She was wearing a rather short skirt, a top that bared her arms and her midriff, and rather elegant high heels.  She just stood there nervously, taking the three of us in with a rather surprised look.

“Hello Ms. Glenn, I hope your journey today was a comfortable one”, Morgan warmly greeted her.  “I think you will recognize the other two gentlemen with me.”

She nodded with a confused look.  I am sure she wondered what had brought this strange collection of people together on this occasion.  She balanced uncertainly putting her weight mostly on one foot, then the other.  Then I saw her reaching to undo the zipper at the side of her short skirt.  Evidently it was part of her slave training to immediately undress in front of her masters.  Morgan walked over to her and gently touched her bare arm.

“That will not be necessary Stephanie.  We did not bring you here to treat you like a slave.  You are our guest today.  Please have a seat.”  

“Thank you Mr. Richmond”, she replied.

He waved her to the best chair in the room and inquired if she took cream in her coffee.  He proceeded to make the coffee and presented it to her.  She was clearly not used to being waited on.

“I am afraid we have brought you here today under somewhat false pretenses” Morgan began.  “We told the people at Masterson that we wanted you back here for 3 weeks additional training to make you a better slave.  Actually that was a ruse to get you out of their custody and control for a while.  Our actual purpose is to see if we can’t win back your freedom!  Why don’t you begin Michael?”

“Ms. Glenn, I am afraid I must begin with an apology”, her lawyer said with sadness in his voice I had never heard before.  “You depended on me for your defense and I, weighed down with too many other cases, did not do my homework.    Bill Steelforth here has uncovered evidence that you were wrongfully enslaved by means of fraudulent documents detailing non-existent debts.  Morgan Richmond, whom you have just met, had his people look into those documents and discovered that the phony debts were owed to two dummy corporations called JR Finance Company and DJ Leasing Ltd.  Morgan’s people also discovered that these two companies were owned in part by Tom Jenkins and Jeff Duncan, but that each of these companies also had a silent shareholder, owning the majority of shares, whose name could not be determined from the registration records because he always acted anonymously through an attorney.  We are going to try to discover who this silent partner may be.  We suspect it is either someone over at Masterson Automotive that is higher up than Duncan or Jenkins, or that it is a very well heeled outsider.

“When I learned of the considerable evidence that you were framed”, Mr. Green continued, “I wrote a letter to Greg Masterson.

“Why Greg Masterson?”  She asked.

“Because he is the owner of the company that now owns you”, Mr. Green continued.  “Both Bill and Morgan tell me they believe he is an honest businessman.  I wanted to see if there could be an easy way out of all this.  I confronted him in my letter with the fact I had evidence that at least two of his employees had fabricated debts against you for the purpose of having you enslaved.  I told him that I was prepared to move forward with a “Wrongful Enslavement Petition” and that I might also prefer charges with the public prosecutor against two Masterson employees.  I hinted that perhaps we could come to some more ‘amicable’ arrangement.”

“About a week later I got a response to my letter.  In essence he says he had no idea any of his employees were involved in any conspiracy or that they had fabricated any documents.  He regrets any injustice that may have happened and is offering to set you free without asking any price for that.  He is also offering startup money to get you back on your feet and pay your first year’s citizenship tax.”

“Sounds too good to be true”, she said. “What’s the catch?”

“His only condition was that we agree not to pursue any criminal charges against any of his employees.”

“That is not acceptable”, she struggled to find her voice and stood up.  “These men have ruined my life and subjected me to untold humiliations.  I want justice!”

“I understand your feelings in the matter”, Green continued, “but speaking as your attorney I would advise you to take the deal.  You would be free, living independently, a citizen, and free to practice your profession again.”

“On the other hand if we go to jury trial to win your freedom the outcome is quite uncertain.   Jurors are reluctant to damage the reputation of businesses of good repute that are also major employers in the city.  Another thing to consider is that, if you win your freedom, you will need someone to sponsor you, advance you startup living expenses, co-sign an apartment lease with you, approve any employment arrangement and generally act as a guarantor of your financial obligations.  Greg Masterson is willing to do all that for you.  Where else will you find such help?”

“Actually, right here!”  The deep voice of Morgan Richmond chimed in.  “I feel I have some responsibility for Miss Glenn’s misfortunes since my firm was an unwitting participant in her enslavement and in her slave training.  I owe the young lady something.  I will advance trial costs, and if she wins I will act as her first year sponsor and advance her startup living expenses.”

I saw Stephanie look to me to see what my attitude would be.  I gave her what I hoped was a kind smile and she smiled back indicating that was all she needed to know.  I admired her courage and desire to pursue justice and approved of Mr. Richmond’s offer.

“I accept your offer, Mr. Richmond!” Stephanie replied.

“Then I will let Mr. Masterson know his offer is rejected and begin the necessary lawsuit” Green remarked.  

“There is something else that is weighing on me”, Stephanie continued.  “This is pretty embarrassing but just yesterday, before I was brought over here, I was forced to pose for some pictures with my fellow slaves.  A magazine called “Slavery Today” was doing a story on professional slavery in the workplace, and they wanted to spice it up by taking some photos of actual professionals who had been enslaved and were now practicing their professions while in bondage.”

“Why is that such a problem?” Green asked.

“Well these pictures were … well they were of us slaves being made to  … you know …perform sex acts on each other”, Stephanie was coloring and I could see tears starting to form in her eyes.

“In some of the photos I was made to suck on the penis of one of the male slaves.  They call that being a ‘fluffer’ so the male will be erect when they take his photos.”

“You don’t have to explain, Stephanie”, I said as I placed my hand on her shoulder to comfort her.  “I think we all know what a fluffer does.”

“They told us these photos will be published along with our personal stories in two weeks time.  People all over Capitallia, including my friends and former neighbors, will be reading our intimate interviews and looking at these humiliating photos that were taken of us.  Not only that but, if I ever get my freedom back, how am I supposed to face a job interview with an employer who has probably seen me naked in that magazine with my legs spread wide open?”

“Taking photos of naked slaves performing sex acts”, Green jumped in, “and publishing them in a magazine is not illegal.  However, under the circumstances, since we will be fling a lawsuit arguing that you were never properly enslaved in the first place, I think it might be possible that I could get a judge to stop that publication for the immediate future with a ‘Temporary Restraining Order’ until we establish whether or not you were falsely enslaved.”

“Please Mr. Green, I will be so grateful if you can stop that publication.”

“I know I probably shouldn’t push my good luck too far.  But there is one other thing I hope you gentleman can help with”, she said.  “One of my fellow slaves at Masterson was also unjustly enslaved.  He is an economist by the name of Edgar Miller.”  

Stephanie related quite a remarkable story that this man had told her about how he had been enslaved to discredit him when he tried to be a whistleblower at his former bank.  I wasn’t sure what to think.  It sounded a bit fantastic.

“At this point you have only his word that he was the victim of anything.  And even if he is a victim, what are you suggesting we do about it Ms. Glenn?”  Mr. Richmond wanted to know.

“Well, I thought for starters maybe there was some way you could make contact with the people at Maxim’s who did his slave training?  They could corroborate his story - that is if they are willing to talk openly about it.”

“Actually I know Roger Maxim pretty well …”.   There was a pregnant pause.  “He is a competitor, but I suppose it couldn’t hurt anything for me to give him a call and see what I can find out about this ‘Edgar’ person.

“Mr. Green, if the story checks out, would you be willing to make contact with the attorney who defended Edgar at his trial?  Maybe you and he could work together and present a joint wrongful enslavement case with both Edgar and I named as plaintiffs?”

“I would be willing to make a call Stephanie, but the chances we could bring a joint action are pretty remote.  After all we don’t really have a common link between your two cases at this point.”

“Surely there would be common legal issues - the fact that both cases involve a miss-application of enslavement law and that new ground might have to be broken by raising novel legal arguments?  You two attorneys could share the expense of the research into these things, couldn’t you?”

“It is a long shot, but I will make the call if Morgan finds his story checks out.”
 
With that the meeting had accomplished its purpose, we all shook hands on it, and went our separate ways.  Morgan had indicated that he would keep Stephanie safe until the Court date.

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