From Book Two – The Judge’s Revenge
648 Words
The Epilogue of Judge William T. Dennison
From Book Two – The Judge’s Revenge
“Sit down, Judge Wilmot. May I call you Patricia?”
“Victor... Judge Hopkins... called me Pattie, Judge Dennison.”
“Well hopefully then, we can dispense with formalities. I’m Bill and I’ll call you Pattie.”
With the shocking demise of Judge Hopkins, I have been appointed as the Chief Judge for the Eastern District of New York. At age 34, I am the youngest person ever to achieve such a lofty position in American jurisprudence. In being just recently assigned to the district shortly before Judge Hopkins’ untimely departure, I need to acquaint myself with the players... my staff and judges. Having served for two years in nearby Manhattan most are familiar by reputation, if not having met at seminars and conventions.
So we sit in my chambers, those of the late Judge Hopkins, and converse.
I know Judge Wilmot to be open minded, hard working and capable... if somewhat erudite. She has many years experience and would have been recommended for the Court of Appeals years before... but for the nasty rumors of her sexuality.
“I guess the first item to discuss is this order appointing you as legal guardian in the unfortunate De La Corte matter... the non compos mentis writ.”
I smile warmly, prompting discourse. Little does this prim looking woman of some fifty years know that last week, sent to me anonymously in the mail, was a brief videotape of a woman I judged to be in her mid thirties. In the video she is being caned naked while well strapped to a whipping bench. The forced position most ignominiously displayed her feminine charms... glimpses of a firm but dainty hand and uniquely powerful feminine arm divulged the gender of the assailant. Even if the label had not so identified the howling victim as Judge Patricia Wilmot, I probably would have been able to connect the two. The tape ended with a scandalous display of oral servitude... forever cementing in my mind the veracity of the rumors concerning the s****l preference of one of my most experienced judges.
“Yes, Bill. A very sad case. The former U.S. Attorney is insane and with child. Judge Hopkins was ready to sign the order when... well when his heart failed.”
I sit back feigning concern. Pattie, Judge Wilmot, expects me to rubber stamp the order... her tone and facial expression suggesting the lacking signature of Judge Hopkins to be a formality easily rectified.
I amaze myself in remaining both stern and silent.
Judge Wilmot does not realize that my career in law began in the U.S. Attorney’s office working under Antoinette De La Corte. Judge Wilmot does not realize that I became her loyal and obedient protégé. Judge Wilmot does not realize that the black leather covered whipping bench where she was taped receiving that merciless caning, probably one of many, is very familiar to me.
Included in the anonymous package mailed to me was a similar still photograph. The accouterments of the surrounding basement room had changed, but the bench remained solidly placed in the middle like an iconic piece of sculpture. On it, strapped to complete immobility, was a naked male form... the figure of a briefly clad, superbly conditioned female ominously looming above.
As in the tape, the governing female form remained faceless. But I know who it was... for it was my form lying below.
As stated, I was the loyal and obedient protégé of U.S. Attorney Antoinette De La Corte. And two days after opening the package, I received an equally anonymous phone call strongly suggesting that my loyalty should continue... along with my obedience.
“I think I need to reflect on this writ, Pattie. We’ll give it a couple of days...”
I sit back arms akimbo, my body language implying that our meeting is over.
I am sure there will be a follow up call from the owner of that taunting aging female voice, testing my loyalty... challenging me to be disobedient.
- Writer
