jamessavik

Chris Butler, in the company of Sandra Hammond, a therapist the police department contracted to interview child victims, picked up Rochelle Green and Elizabeth Cummings at their apartments at eleven-thirty. Once they were all situated in Butler’s SUV, Sandra said, “I’ve had a chance to read the interviews of Tyrone Flowers. You should know that, even white-washed, it was clear to me that the boys were blackmailed and intimidated into sexual activity.” Elizabeth Cummings said, “I knew something wasn’t right. Jeffry and Rochelle’s boys have always been thick as thieves. Then Jeffry started doing anything he could to be away from the apartments while I was at work.” Rochelle Green shook her head and said, “Lord, what a mess. When you can’t trust family, who can you trust? I knew Tyrone had a sketchy side, but, I never saw this coming. When Luke and Jon-Jon asked if they had to mind Tyrone while I was at work, I thought he was just making them behave.” Hammond said, “This is one of the most common ways sexual abuse occurs. It is seldom a stranger. It takes being a trusted friend or family member to provide the access, opportunity and authority over the kids. The kids are almost always too embarrassed and ashamed to complain about it. Sometimes they deny it more strongly than the perpetrator. “ Chris Butler said, “When I spoke to Phillip Wright yesterday, he said that he, and I quote, ‘smelled a rat’ when he talked to the boys, and that was why he reached out to get them included in the Y’s Day-program.” Hammond asked, “Is he the boy who was on TV last week?” Rochelle said, “That’s him. Our boys spent the weekend with him. He has turned out to be what I had hoped Tyrone would be for them. Phillip has certainly been looking out for them.” Jeffry and the four Green brothers wanted to do anything besides go to the interview. Dentist appointments were mentioned, as were changing dirty cat boxes, cleaning the bathroom and, babysitting Georgie, the most ferocious 8-year-old in their apartment complex. After hearing a few Georgie stories, Phillip was not sure whether to laugh or run away. As time approached, Phillip herded Jeffry, James, Marcus, Luke and Jon-Jon into the conference room. They were nervous and had skipped lunch in hopes that they could get this meeting over with and eat later. Once they were seated, they were by no means settled. The boys fidgeted like they were waiting outside Principal Satan’s office and anticipated being eaten. It was little Jon-Jon Green who asked that was on all their minds, “Phillip, what if Mama doesn’t want us anymore?” Phillip opened his arms and Jon-Jon and Luke swarmed into Phillip’s lap. He hugged the two boys and said, “There’s no way that will happen.” Marcus whined, “What about us?” Phillip indicated that James and Marcus should join the hug, and they did. So did Jeffry. Chris Butler led Sandra Hammond, Elizabeth Cummings and Rochelle Green to the main office in the YMCA. A cute little blond-haired boy with an impish smile asked Rochelle if she was Jon-Jon and Luke’s Mom. When she said yes, the boy hugged her and said they were “really cool” and then scampered off. Detective Butler said, “It looks like this place has been good for them. They’re making friends.” When they arrived in the office, they were expected and motioned through to the conference room. Detective Butler stopped them just outside the door. All three of the adults clearly heard and saw Jon-Jon voice his fear and Phillip reassuring them all. Rochelle Green took the initiative, entered the conference room, put her hands on Marcus and James shoulders and said, “Phillip is right. There is no way that would happen. What happened to you was my fault for putting Tyrone in charge when I was at work. You all tried to tell me in one way or another something was wrong. I just didn’t get it.” Elizabeth Cummings entered the room and hugged Jeffry. Sandra Hammond introduced herself and said, “Guilt, blame and shame can get in the way so let us put it where it belongs. The only person who truly deserves it is Tyrone.” Phillip immediately recognized Mrs. Hammond’s name from the list of specialists on Wally Garner’s list. He said, “I told the boys that seeing a therapist to get this sorted out is nothing to be ashamed of. Unfortunately, it happens to too many boys. In fact, it happened to me when I was about Jon-Jon’s age at the hands of an older teenager. I would like to sit down and talk it out with you.” Mrs. Hammond’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and Mrs. Green and Cummings looked at him appreciatively. Phillip had just shown their boys that seeing a therapist was what the cool kids were doing. Between Hammond and the two mothers, the boys were put at ease in just a few minutes. It was not the sort of meeting that anyone would enjoy, but now that it was clear it was not a hanging, the boys were relieved, and it showed. Phillip asked, “Jon-Jon, now that you aren’t scared anymore, do you need me to stay?” Jon-Jon said, “I’m OK now. Thanks, Phillip.” After giving Mrs. Hammond his name and number, Phillip stood to take his leave and said, “OK guys, I’ll be in my office until one thirty.” Phillip departed, thanking his lucky stars he was wearing a jock. Sweet as he was, Luke was almost as big a horn dog as Tanner. The randy little devil had used his lap time to shamelessly grope Phillip, causing a boner. He used his time to catch a quick shower in the recently renovated locker room near his office and changed into khakis, a nice shirt and dress shoes for court later. Billy followed Bobby down the spiral stair down from the bridge and admired the view. Young, tanned and muscled, Billy decided Bobby was easy to look at. Bobby explained that there were no stairs on a ship, only ladders. “Ladders?” Bobby chuckled and said, “The nautical world is a different place. It will take you a while to get it all sorted out. Do you want one of the four cabins up forward? They are bigger and nicer than the six aft of the galley.” Billy said, “I want a little space. My Gramps is great and all…” Bobby said, “I understand. I’m surprised he’s your grandfather. He doesn’t look that old. You’re so lucky to get to travel like this.” He led the way down the main corridor to the after cabins. Billy decided to try on his legend and said, “I lost my parents in a car wreck last year. Since then, it’s just been me and Pops.” He stopped in front of the first cabin on the starboard side and said, “I think I’ll take this one.” Suddenly, Billy found himself wrapped in Bobby’s arms. “That sucks, kid, I’m sorry.” “Don’t be”, Billy replied as he looked up at the tall, wiry young man. “It’s been a while since it happened, and I’ve got Pops. The hug is nice, though.” Bobby released him and asked, “How old are you, Billy?” “Fifteen. How old are you?” At least the new in improved Billy was fifteen according to his ID. The old and lousy Doug wouldn’t turn fifteen until late in July. Bobby said, “I’m twenty. I joined the Navy right out of high school, but I blew out my knee last fall. It was bad enough that they cut me loose but, they fixed the knee as well as it could be fixed. Sorry I got emotional about that. I lost my mom while I was in class A school at Great Lakes. It sucks being an orphan.” Billy flashed a smile at Bobby and said, “You won’t be for long. Stick around and Pops will adopt you too. He’s cool like that.” Bobby patted Billy on the shoulder and said, “Come on. There is a huge pile of boxes from FedEx in the warehouse. Let us get you moved in.” Phillip texted Richard: Do you know what your dad intends for the Farmer House and the farm? As he was putting on his dress shoes, Richard texted back: I assume that they would sell them and put the proceeds in the Trust. Phillip returned the text: I have got an idea about that. The Trust is well funded. What if we repaired the house and made it into a private group home? Richard replied: That would be expensive to run. We will have to see if we can manage it. It is a good idea. Who would run it? Phillip replied: I am thinking Mrs. Green, Cummings or Carlson. That would get them and their boys out of those shifty apartments. Richard’s reply was slow coming back. Phillip looked at the clock and texted, it is about time for me to head to court. Let us think it through and talk later. On the way downstairs, Richard’s reply arrived: It makes sense. All of them could live there, it is plenty big enough. Randy’s Mom is a nurse and between the three of them, someone could always be there. I know someone who is interested in the farm too. Talk later. Phillip went into the office to sign out and ran into Mrs. Hammond, Green, Cummings and Detective Butler. Apparently, their conference was over, and Mrs. Hammond asked, “Could we have a private word, Phillip?” “Sure, but it will have to be quick. I’ve got to be somewhere at two.” He followed them back into the conference room. Once they were all inside, Phillip pulled the door closed and said, “I do hope all went well?” Hammond laughed, and Mrs. Green said, “I think we have you to thank for that. You’ve helped us tremendously.” Detective Butler said, “Your idea of a day to cool off before we talked made this work a lot better.” Mrs. Hammond said, “By preparing the boys for the interview and, showing them by example that therapy for what happened was the right thing to do, you sure made my job easy.” Mrs. Cummings said, “I’ve noticed that Jeffry has been a lot happier this last week. I suspect you had a lot to do with that.” Phillip glanced at his phone and saw that he really needed to get moving. He said, “You’re all welcome. All five of them are great kids. I’ve really got to get going, I’ve got to be somewhere at two.” He managed to escape with hugs from two relieved mothers and Detective Butlers business card.

The feeling is Palpable that all Hollywood is capable of are flaming dumpster fires of franchise killing rubbish.

Stacy Scott rolled her chair back from her computer and rubbed her eyes. She had no idea what had been on the CD until she put it on her computer. Then it was obvious. Farmer’s journal of his hunt for the serial killer had been scanned into PDF files by the year. It was spectacular. Once Stacy started, she could not stop. Charles Farmer had been brilliant and driven in his search for David Wayne Allen. This was not just another story. There was a book in this. Probably even a movie. She even had a title for it: Relentless: A Teacher’s Hunt for the Freeway Killer. Her editor Murry stuck his head in her cubicle and asked, “Where are we with the Farmer story?” Stacy replied, “Pulitzer territory. I’ll have a draft ready for you after lunch, and then I need to go sit in on the court case this afternoon.” Murry put her favorite sandwich from Jimmy John’s and a Mountain Dew on her desk and said, “Go get ‘em, tiger.” Special Agent Andy Kellogg sat in front of Justice Court Senior Judge Anthony Drummond with his paperwork, an MP3 player and carefully laid out his case. He started with the statistics. Very few youth courts were ever as uniformly brutal with juvenile offenders as the court run by Judge Gerald Turner. It had not been so before. Before Sturgis at CPS and Youth Court Judge Gerald Turner five years ago, first time juvenile offenders in drug cases with no aggravating circumstances were always given a fine and probation. After the change in 2013, first offenders were uniformly given three to six months at a faith-based rehab at state and federal expense. That expense had not been trivial. At a price tag of around twenty thousand dollars a month, in the five years this little scam had been running, it had cost over eighty million to the state directly and another eighty million to the federal government in matching funds. The last straw for Judge Drummond were the recorded conversations. Bob Baxter of Security Concepts and Emily Sturgis discussed the upcoming incarceration of “eight deviants” before the mere formality of a hearing. The Judge’s face went red with fury when he heard Emily Sturgis and Judge Taylor haggling over his cut. When Baxter asked Sturgis about the judge assigned, Sturgis had declared that Turner was “on the team, but we may need to increase his cut”. Judge Drummond asked, “This is a nightmare. I’ve seen and heard what you have. I assume you are going to arrest Sturgis and Turner?” Kellogg said, “I can do that right now with what I have. Those are Federal charges. They will serve out their sentences in nice, cushy Federal prisons. They might get a slick lawyer and get out of it entirely. These two have run up a considerable debt with the good State of Virginia. I’ve spoken to Deputy District Attorney Callahan about this matter, and she has written up arrest warrants for hundreds of cases of perjury against Sturgis and Taylor. In each case, they signed documents that sent the kids off to private prison and treatment centers in return for kickbacks.” Judge Drummond smiled nastily and said, “I’m on board. How do you want to play this?” Drummond and Kellogg talked strategy for fifteen minutes and came up with a game plan for the two o’clock Youth Court session. Everything was arranged. They were going to allow the good Emily Sturgis to hang herself. As Bobby led a dumbfounded Pops and an excited Billy to Lucky Star, Pops noticed he walked with a slight limp and could see the surgery scars on his left knee. He led them up a gang plank on Lucky Star’s port side as the ship was neatly backed into the dock, raked bow towards the ocean. Something else occurred to Pops: the receptionist had looked remarkably familiar. Older, sure, but could it possibly be? No. She was certainly retired by now, and the coincidence would be too great. Lucky Star was obviously a new ship and bigger than anything Pops had in mind. There were three decks, and they entered through the starboard hatch into the lounge. Following Bobby, they went forward and saw the accommodations, communications cabin and a spiral staircase to the bridge. After looking into the cabin Pops had decided would be his, he got some idea why the ship was less expensive than he first thought. She was nice, but was not as luxurious as the private yachts of the rich and famous. Lucky Star had the feel of a working ship. On their tour going aft, they passed through the mess, galley, six cabins and finally ended up in what was obviously a ready room for divers with the gear to charge air tanks. Pops asked to go below to see the engine spaces, and he was not disappointed. There were four big super-charged diesels, a shop, cargo hold and a spare parts locker. On the top level, there was a sun deck with lounge chairs. The bridge was just forward of the sun deck. Bobby led them to the rear hatch of the bridge and said, “Mr. Bell is in there testing your electronics. You are going to need some crew for her. Please keep me in mind. I would love to ship out on her.” Pops asked, “Has our stuff been delivered?” Bobby said, “We’ve been getting deliveries all morning. When you pick your cabins, let us know, and we’ll bring it aboard.” Pops said, “Bobby, I’m going to take the captain’s cabin near the bridge. Take Billy downstairs and let him pick one out. I’m going to have a word with Mr. Bell.” Bobby led Billy below as Pops walked forward into the bridge to find Mr. Bell calibrating the radar. He turned and said, “Mr. Bridges, I’m Todd Bell. It’s good to meet you.” Pops shook the man’s proffered hand and said, “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Bell. I’m just a little astonished to find out the sixty-foot cruiser I bought turned out to be a sixty-meter sea monster.” Bell said, “She is acceptable, I hope.” Pops chuckled and said, “This is a lot more boat than one point two I paid for her will buy.” The rear hatch on the bridge opened and a voice from his past said, “Todd, Mr. Bridges and I need a moment. Why don’t you see to getting the Bridge’s cargo loaded?” Pops turned to see the woman from the front desk and recognized her this time. Todd Bell stood and said, “Yes Mam, Mrs. Carlyle.” He left through the aft hatch she had just entered. As soon as the hatch closed, Pops asked, “How did you know Edith?” Edith Carlyle grinned ironically and said, “We do keep an eye on our distinguished alumni. Saturday, someone at the Pentagon got a call from your local police. Someone at the Agency noticed you had activated your old Bridges cover, and they called me. We did a little snooping and figured out what it was you had in mind.” Back in the nineties, Edith was the CIA’s top handler for non-covered operatives in the Philippines. She knew Farmer well and about his ties to the Van Houten family. He asked, “So… what happens now? Will I be black-bagged?” She smiled and said, “Goodness no. We have people inside the Bureau. We got the real story as soon as they did. Good work on that serial killer. With your skills, smarts and resourcefulness, you are an invaluable asset.” Farmer said, “Edith, I’m much too old for the field.” “So am I, David, but we all do what we can. I think we can help each other. I assume that you are going to take up Karl Van Houten’s offer of a job at his resort on Palawan?” Farmer sighed and said, “That was my plan.” Edith’s eyes sparkled, “That is a particularly interesting part of the world now, and I mean interesting in the Chinese sense.” Farmer replied with an inelegant, “Oh.” Palawan was the Western most major island in Philippine archipelago which had some seventy-six hundred islands large and small. It bordered the Sula Sea on the South and the Spratly Islands and the South China Sea on the North. It was a beautiful green gem set in the sparkling blue waters of the Sula Sea and a tourist destination from Europe and Australians who were turned off by Bali. Edith said, “Go there. Work for Van Houten. Run charters in this wonderful ship. You will never know when you are taking some of our people out to service our underwater listening buoys. In return, Chuck Farmer will stay dead. We’ll keep the David Bridges cover alive and well and, we will all live happily ever after.” Farmer shook his head and said, “It’s that simple?” Edith cooed, “Now sugar, nothing in this life is simple. You will be an asset, but the role you will play is exceptionally vital to the national security of an old and faithful ally. We aren’t going to ask you to run missions or do covert ops. You are simply running a charter service, and we want to be your preferred customer.” Farmer said, “What about Doug?” Edith said, “He’s much better off with you than his alcoholic mother. We can help to cover him too. You’ll want Bobby Davis. He was a Navy Bosom’s mate until he blew out his knee. He’s got the skills but, he’s not on the team. I’ve got two more young men in mind for your crew. They both have skills you need, one is a mechanic and the other is a master diver, and they need the work. So, what do you say, Mr. Bridges? Do we have a deal?” Farmer said, “I can’t do anything that will put Billy in danger. He’s the son I’ve always wanted.” Edith said, “That shouldn’t be a problem, running charters for sight-seers and divers.” Farmer said, “I’m in.”

We lost a great teammate. I still miss Green and Lacy. 🥺

Although I haven't read much about them, Military BRATs offer a writer great dramatic opportunities. Their lives and mobility at an early age offers all sorts of hooks for writers. The military life is one where an officer might move every six months. If their family is posted with them, that means the kids have to move into a whole new circle of friends every six months to a year. I was so young when I was a Brat, I don't really remember much about it. I've been looking for stories about this life, but I haven't found many. I encourage other writers to think about the potential of MBs as "the new kid". Think about their psychology and how they could be fascinating. Imagine a new kid who was born on a base in Europe and goes home to the United States, where they've never been before. MBs went to school on bases where they live with German, Spanish and French speakers and may actually be multi-lingual. They may have accents that would really make them stand out. Another aspect of base schools is they are excellent. Much better than the average school in the States. A new Middle School student who was average at a base school would probably be a star student in the states. MBs are like anybody else: they can be good or an asshole. They can rock as a villain because often that mobile life makes them callous and unwilling to get close to others because they know they'll lose them. They can rock as a hero, as they've been places and done things the average kid hasn't. Just add imagination, stir, cook at 350 and see what happens.

Stacy Scott sat at the same table at IHOP that “Billy” and Pops Bridges had sat on Sunday morning. It was a half hour before dawn, so the restaurant was essentially empty. She had not finished her cup of coffee when her brother Brad and Sergeant Rex Daniels entered and were ushered to her table by a server that provided the new arrivals with coffee, menus and took their orders. Brad and the Sergeant sat across the table from her. She noticed that Daniels looked exhausted, with dark circles around his eyes. Brad said, “Sergeant, this is my big sister Stacy. Stacy, this is my boss, Rex Daniels. Please play nice, guys.” Daniels grinned and said, “Cops and reporters don’t really have to be natural enemies.” “True”, Stacy agreed. “Some of my colleagues don’t play nice, but my baby brother is a cop, so I tend to be a little more sympathetic. Given the events of this weekend, I have many questions.” Daniels gave Brad a look and said, “As long as I can be an anonymous source. Your brother may be answering some parts of the narrative I’m not comfortable talking about.” Stacy nodded and said, “Of course, that’s understood. I will give you something first. Last night, I sat down with a bunch of young men in their teens and twenties that told me they knew Chuck Farmer. They told me that he had rescued them all from terrible situations and shepherded them through the foster care system. Farmer did all that while he was hunting the serial killer the FBI didn’t want to give any publicity to, and thus no one knew he was hunting kids on I-75.” Daniels nodded and said, “All of that is correct. Keep going.” Stacy said, “The next young man I spoke too told a harrowing story of being snatched by the Jeffry Wayne Allen. Farmer arrived in the nick of time to save his life. Farmer took the boy home and then killed Allen slowly. That was July 2013.” Daniels sighed. “That’s right. The FBI screwed that case up from the start. They had a new theory about serial killers being driven by publicity. There’s stuff about Farmer you probably don’t know.” Brad said, “Farmer joined the Army right out of high school. He went to jump school at Bragg, where he excelled and became the youngest Green Beret to date. He deployed to Columbia to fight Cartel Sicarios and then the Gulf War broke out. He was paired with another Green Beret and inserted into Iraq. They worked with a cell of about twenty Kurdish guerrilla fighters who were between the ages of fourteen to twenty. They did extremely well but came to the attention of the Republican guard. The Kurds were nearly wiped out by a helicopter attack, and Farmer was badly shot up. His partner had to drag him out because he would not leave those Kurdish kids. They were pulled out by helicopter. Farmer got a Silver Star and a Purple Heart and served out his enlistment as an instructor at Bragg.” Daniels picked up the narrative, “After his term in the Army, Farmer went to college where he was recruited by the CIA. He worked for Haliburton Global for six years where, he learned a certain set of skills. He left CIA and became a math and civics teacher and football and basketball coach. We would have probably never even heard of him if that Allen mutt hadn’t murdered Hunter Young. He spent six years tracking that animal down and then interrogated him to discover where he had been dumping bodies. When we raided his house Saturday morning, he made sure we had all the evidence we needed to close the Allen case, recover the bodies and… he killed himself.” Breakfast arrived, plates were distributed, and coffee refilled. Once their server withdrew, Stacy said, “That fills in many holes in the information I’ve dug up. It is what happened after he moved from Carver to Grayson, where I’ve still got serious questions.” Brad said, “I know you talked to Richard last night. I’m sure you have some idea.” Stacy said, “Yes, I do. There was a change after the 2012 election cycle, and Health and Human Services got new leadership and policies. Locally, that’s Emily Sturgis and Security Concepts, LLC.” Daniels growled, “That’s when the wheels came off. Sturgis sends any kids who come her way to a private ‘faith-based’ treatment and detention facilities. It costs almost as much as any program the state ever ran.” Stacy said, “I know you guys changed your policy on first-time offenders. That is why Casey and Kelly did not end up doing six months in a private jail for kids. The question I have is, why did you change your policy?” Daniels said, “Officially, the reason we changed that policy is it wasn’t cost-effective. We made that case with their near 100% relapse rate among drug offenders. Unofficially, we smelled a rat. Sturgis and a couple of judges were sending kids off for six months or longer over the most minor infractions. I cannot say anything more about that for now, but, I will tell you that you should be in Youth Court session this afternoon at two. You will learn everything you need to know.” They finished their breakfast with much lighter small talk, and Rex Daniels and Brad Scott got up to leave. Stacy noticed a CD Rom in a paper sleeve was sitting on the table where the Sergeant had been. She picked it up and waved it at Brad, who smiled at her and winked. Monday morning started blearily for Phillip and company. Since he was going to get wet practicing with the Barracudas, Phillip, Mikie and the swimmers held off on showers. Once again, Casey spoiled them with breakfast. He made a pan of biscuits, some eggs, ham, bacon and sausage and turned it all into breakfast sandwiches that would shame a certain fast-food clown. Phillip was beginning to appreciate the Community coffee. It had the kind of horsepower you need when you were up late with some very anxious boys. Adam and Bryan Larkin arrived in their minivan just in time for biscuits. As everyone was scurrying around, Adam indicated that he wanted a quiet word with Phillip. They went into the living room and Adam said, “I was over at the McGraw house last night. Stevie went home yesterday afternoon for some clothes and the change in him is shocking. To put it bluntly, Stevie is not being a prick towards everybody. Their Dad is ecstatic.” “I’m not surprised”, Phillip said. “He’s back in touch with Randy and has a bunch of new friends. The stress he was under at Grayson is over. He’s bound to be a lot happier.” Adam grinned and said, “Mr. McGraw has been worried about Stevie for a while now. You know how he was. Stevie is like he used to be. Are he and Randy…” Phillip shrugged and said, “They’re pals again. Some kids Farmer was trying to tame got between them.” Adam said, “Life is better with pals. Come on. We had better get this herd moving.” Arriving at eight, Phillip got his crew in gear to get the morning checklist out of the way for swimming practice at nine. Some Barracudas had arrived early, as they expected practice at eight. They were all delighted to discover that henceforth practice would be at nine, and news of the change in swim wear spread fast. Phillip tried not to be distracted by the conference with Mrs. Green and Mrs. Cummings and court later in the day, but, it was difficult. He focused on what he had to do and would take on the rest as it occurred. At a little before nine, Phillip joined the Barracudas gathered in their locker room. The boys were in good spirits and were excited about the new kit. The boys that Phillip had outfitted were in Speedo drag suits. Phillip explained that they were pretty much the opposite of most Speedo suits. They weren’t as revealing and were a poly-mesh. They don’t slip through the water as easily, creating a bit of drag. Drag suits forced swimmers to work a little harder in practice and strengthened them, in theory at least. As Casey and Kelly took care of business, Phillip and Mikie ran practice according to Coach Hanson’s plan, focusing on free style, breaststroke and relays. Phillip couldn’t afford to play favorites, but the Curtis twins, Owen, Randy, Jeffry, Seth and David were strong swimmers. Johnny Gray, Bryan Larkin, Billy Jackson and several of the seventh graders were coming along nicely, but they were not quite there yet. They were good swimmers, but they lacked endurance. Phillip had a plan to address that, but not today. There was already plenty to do. Pops and Billy Barnes arrived at Wilmington Slips after sleeping late to recover from their stressful weekend and breakfast at the hotel. They parked the rental car in a customer only parking place and they both approached the office. A bell rung as they entered and a woman in her sixties looked up from her computer and asked, “Can I help you?” “I’m David Bridges and I just bought the Lucky Star.” She stood, shook Pop’s hand and said, “I’m Mary Ann Bell, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Bridges. My husband and most of our workers are out on Lucky Star now getting her squared away for you.” She picked up a walkie-talkie, keyed the mike and said, “Todd, the Bridges are here.” There was a squawk of static and a voice replied, “I’ll send Bobby to get them.” Mrs. Bell said, “Lucky Star is a beauty. I’m sure you’ll love her.” Pops said, “She is quite a looker. She’s only four years old?” Mrs. Bell said, “We got her in an estate auction. The former owner was elderly and passed away. We bought her and cleaned her up. She was laid up for a couple of years while the estate was probated.” The door opened, and a young man said, “Are you Mr. Bridges?” Pops said, “Yes. This is my grandson Billy, and we’re both looking forward to seeing Lucky Star up close.” They followed Bobby on a longer walk to Lucky Star than Pops or Billy had expected. Pops said, “She’s a lot bigger than sixty feet.” Bobby acted surprised and said, “She is British built. All her dimensions are metric. She is sixty meters.” For the first time ever, Billy saw Pops absolutely dumbfounded. Pops said, “Lucky Star is almost two hundred feet?” Bobby said, “Yes sir. She displaces about twenty-two hundred tons. There is some history about her class you might want to ask Mr. Bell about.” The closer they got to Lucky Star, the more they were impressed by her. She had clean lines and was it was obvious she was built tight. Pops said, “I got a lot more boat than I bargained for.” Bobby chuckled and said, “Lucky Star isn’t a boat, sir. Two boats come with her. She is an all up ship.” Phillip finally managed to catch up with Mr. Campbell and said, “We need to talk.” Campbell said, “We do. I’ve got to go to court this afternoon at two. Cassidy will be covering for me.” Phillip raised an eyebrow and said, “I’ll be going to court too. Is this about the kids who got arrested at Farmer’s place Friday night.” Campbell grinned and said, “Yes, it is. Apparently, we have some of the same friends. Wally Garner called me Sunday. I’ve got a foster care certificate and my kids are grown.” Phillip said, “Great! I have got something unpleasant I’m going to need the conference room for. One of the arrests netted got a man who had been molesting some of our boys. Their mothers are coming, and they’re going to be interviewed by the police.” Campbell scowled and said, “You can use the conference room we did the TV interview in last week. Tell Cassidy, and make sure there are enough chairs.”