Authors: Aleatha Romig
“
Why not? It sounds like
they’re both involved in charity work. Did you know his wife was a
bartender when he met her?”
“
The man makes his money
harming other people.”
“
It doesn’t sound like
that. It sounds like an amazing love story. Can you imagine, being
an out of work meteorologist, working as a bartender, and falling
in love with one of the countries billionaires?”
“
Again, where did those
billions come from?”
“
It says something about
the internet.”
“
Yes. According to my
father that’s where it started. Anthony Rawlings has managed to
take that start and feed off of the unfortunate circumstances of
others. He’s personally unemployed enough people to fill these
factories.”
“
He also employs enough
people to fill these factories.” Sarah peered at the barren
landscape. “I think people are just jealous. I mean, I could be.
What woman wouldn’t love to suddenly have Claire Rawlings’
life?”
The sound of their son’s voice refocused the
couple’s thoughts. Instead of dwelling on urban decay and the
nation’s economy, Rich saw the blond hair of hope in the backseat.
“Dad, I need to pee.” Ryan pleaded wide eyed at his dad in the
rearview mirror.
“
Ryan, we’ll be home in a
few minutes. You can wait.”
“
No, Dad, I can’t. I gots
to pee now!”
Rich’s eyes met his wife’s. Her expression
said everything he already knew; this wasn’t the neighborhood to
stop. If they could just drive a little further. However, Ryan’s
voice whined and his little legs fidgeted with need. “I see a gas
station. Stop, pl-ea-se.” The last word elongated into three
extended syllables.
Against his better judgment Richard Bosley
II, turned the Equinox into a parking space outside of a Speedway.
He turned to his wife, “I’ll go in with him. Besides, it’s the
middle of the day, and it doesn’t look busy.”
Sarah smiled and unbuckled her seatbelt.
“Okay guys, let’s get this over with and back on the road. We have
a baseball game to watch. I recorded the whole thing. Ryan, wait
until you see yourself get that great hit!”
A film of smudge and finger prints plastered
the heavy glass doors. Rich scanned the interior looking for the
sign indicating a restroom. The odor of hot dogs cooked to the
firmness of rubber permeated their senses. Merchandise sat sparsely
upon shelves that packed the room, leaving no discernible path. The
dirt and scuffs upon the cracked linoleum were the true indicators
of foot traffic. Looking to the cashier, Rich noticed the small
unsecured cubical. He scanned the glass square for help, but saw
only empty chairs. Then he noticed the open drawer of the cash
register.
“
Dad, I see the sign.”
Ryan’s voice cut the thick silent air.
Suddenly, a commotion of racket resonated
from the hallway containing the bathrooms. Some moments hang
suspended in time as if the electrons slow, protons release their
pull, and atoms no longer cement into matter; for example, the
second a newborn baby releases its first cry. Some instants occur
in a flash; like lightening refusing capture upon film. Others are
an amalgamation.
A thick man moved toward
them, his face concealed behind a black ski mask. Rich’s first
thought,
it’s July, why would you wear a
ski mask?
was only a blimp before the
realization of their situation, “Run! Back to the car!” The words
cascaded from his lips with alarm and authority.
Preoccupied with the search of her purse,
Sarah’s husband’s tone propelled her to flight. She seized her
son’s small hand and spun toward the smudged glass door. The
echoing pop of gunfire erupted so abruptly she never saw her
husband fall and thankfully neither did Ryan. The last thing either
of them saw was the shower of red as their blood added another
dimension to the filth on the floor and windows.
Months earlier and miles away a business
executive chose to close a stamping plant no longer showing
profits. That one decision resulted in thousands of unemployed
workers. One of which was a father with a sick child and no wife.
In a moment of desperation the out of work father decided his only
option to pay the mounting medical bills and save his son, was
crime. A few robberies later, with money too attractive and too
easy, he had a new profession…
There is no limit to what a
man can do, or where he can go,
if he does not mind who gets the credit.
-
Charles Edward Montague
Looking around his office,
Richard Bosley I contemplated his place in history. The stately
office reeked of prestige. Impressive bookshelves covered the
walls, and his mahogany desk created a platform of regality. The
flags of both the United States and Iowa hung conspicuously behind
his leather chair. Only fifteen months into his second term as
governor, he had so many goals to accomplish. The voters rallied
around him after the tragic death of his only son and his family.
They put their trust in him, in his ideas, and in his values.
Staring at the
family
photo of him with his son, daughter-in-law, and grandson, he
questioned his own values. Perhaps they’d been too lofty. Perhaps
if he had stayed out of public office... things would have been
different.
The cold March Iowa wind
blew outside the window and created a low howl through the
insulated panes. Seeing his reflection against the black night sky,
Richard Bosley I knew the truth: “perhapses” meant
nothing
! His family was
gone and his third round of chemo would start tomorrow. The second
round took his hair and energy. The third may very well take his
life. If it didn’t, the cancer surely would. Seeing his gaunt
reflection and viewing his hands, he saw the gray pallor. His skin
was merely an oversized casing, loosely hanging over his bones. It
reminded him how life wasn’t fair. He prayed death would
be.
Richard Bosley I would officially resign as
governor of Iowa at a press conference scheduled for tomorrow at
noon. The lieutenant governor, Sheldon Preston, would immediately
be sworn in office for the remaining term. Tonight, alone in the
executive office, Governor Bosley chose to make decisions. He had
nothing left to lose. To hell with the executive board; tonight the
only opinion that mattered was his.
Who can truly say if good
done for the wrong reason was still good? Right now, his soul told
him to take another look.
Do not leave
this place of power without knowing you’ve done all that you can
do.
Easing himself into the splendid
leather chair, he decided to do just that. History would write
itself.
The stack of petitions for
pardon were discussed, debated, and decreased. The news of his
impending resignation spurred many requests. The executive board
reviewed the multiple
petitions for
pardon
and decided upon ten. Ten
applicants now serving
time
in one of Iowa’s penitentiaries who would soon be
free. Ten people, who tomorrow would be informed their verdict was
overturned and their sentence was over. Governor Bosley eyed the
stack of pages to his left. Within that stack were eleven
other
people. According
to the board of review, these inmates would remain in prison. They
would serve out their sentences as handed down by the mighty and
lofty judges of this great state.
With trembling hands, more from the
chemicals within his veins than emotion, Governor Bosley reviewed
the stack of prisoners destined to remain behind bars for the
eternity of their sentence.
The lists of offenses varied: rapists,
burglars, prostitutes. Somehow through the diseased cells
infiltrating his brain, Richard remembered his quest. One more time
he leafed through the stack. Finally, he found the name he sought.
Yes, she’d been married to Anthony Rawlings. Hell, he attended
their wedding. Suddenly, Richard Bosley’s mouth formed a grin.
There had been so few reasons to smile lately. The facial muscles
would soon tire, but he enjoyed the brief euphoria.
He reread the file: Claire
Nichols -
no contest plea
to the charge of attempted murder, thus not
officially found guilty. Good behavior since incarceration. No
marks of disobedience. No prior offenses. Sentenced to seven years.
Served fourteen months. With the multitude of sins represented by
the prisoners already scheduled for pardon, Governor Bosley could
question why the executive board allowed this woman to remain in
prison. However, he knew. The
board
consisted of five individuals of political power
or at least
promise
in Iowa, and each served a four year term. Everyone knew,
success in Iowa wasn’t found by crossing Anthony
Rawlings.
Richard Bosley I found himself with the rare
opportunity to avenge his son’s death. Dealing with politicians and
individuals like Anthony Rawlings taught him many things. Closing
his eyes, he saw the esteemed businessman smiling, shaking hands,
and making promises. However, Governor Bosley knew Rawlings’
decision to close that plant in Flint, Michigan, cost dearly. It
may not be Christian to seek revenge, but looking at the page
before him, he pondered how anyone but God could present him this
opportunity.
Without a second thought, Governor Richard
Bosley signed his name to the bottom of the petition. He took the
official Iowa stamp and made the document legal. Yes, the original
ten names of prisoners receiving pardons were already released to
the press. It would be all right. The newspapers would momentarily
miss this great human interest story: “State Official Rights a
Wrong and Releases Ex-wife of Top Executive from Prison.” The
newspaper wouldn’t miss the aftermath. Richard Bosley I was
confident Mr. Rawlings’s publicist would somehow spin this in his
direction. However, just maybe, by avoiding the first list of
pardons, Ms. Nichols would have the opportunity to write her own
story.
The following day, in
front of local and national press, Governor Bosley signed ten
petitions. Under the Iowa State Constitution, a
pardoned person
was entitled to an
expunction of all arrest records relating to the conviction. A full
pardon restored all citizenship rights forfeited by law as the
result of a criminal conviction and officially nullifies the
punishment or other legal consequences of the crime. The person
will forever be regarded as innocent and regain the status as if
she never committed the offense for which she was
convicted.
Most importantly, a pardon
granted by a state executive was
final and
irrevocable
. Governor Bosley placed the
ten documents into the manila folder already containing one.
Smiling weakly at the cameras he stood and walked to the podium.
“Ladies and gentleman, you witnessed my final act as governor of
this great state. It’s with a solemn heart today that I resign from
this prestigious office…”
The clerk took the manila folder and placed
each document inside its appropriate envelope. Counsel representing
each individual would be contacted, prisoners would be informed,
and if accepted by each prisoner, the pardon could not be
overturned. Finally, the courts would be notified of each pardon.
With so much activity and emotion, even the clerk didn’t realize
she had filed eleven pardons instead of ten.
*****
Down the street from the
State House, in another office building Jane Allyson, Attorney,
paced nervously around her small office willing her telephone to
ring. This was her first petition for pardon. She’d waited
anxiously for verdicts from juries, verdicts that determined the
freedom and future of her clients. Somehow this seemed different --
surreal. Her client had already lost her freedom and future by
willingly pleading
no contest
to the charge of
attempted murder
.
Jane remembered standing next to Ms. Nichols
with an overwhelming sense of helplessness -- complete impotence --
as they listened to the judge discuss the consequences of Claire’s
plea. Early in law school, Jane learned to remain emotionally
detached from her clients. She usually succeeded. It was a matter
of survival. She wouldn’t be able to help the next client if her
thoughts lingered on the one she failed. However, that day, a year
ago, Jane wanted to sit and cry with Claire Nichols. It was all so
wrong.
Time passes and seasons
change. New clients come and go. Opportunities arise. Esquire
Allyson now practiced with a firm in the heart of Iowa’s capital.
Life was busy. Jane moved on -- until three days earlier, when a
courier delivered a certified letter labeled:
Confidential: Esquire Jane Allyson
.
Within the envelope she found the completed
Petition for Pardon
for Claire
Nichols. No work on Jane’s part was required, except to sign as
representing counsel. The attached typed note was short:
Ms. Allyson, Perhaps you remember a client
from about a year ago, Claire Nichols. Enclosed please find a
petition for pardon to Governor Bosley. As you are probably aware,
his time in office is short. This MUST reach his office today. All
that is required of you is your signature. Enclosed please find a
certified check to reimburse you for your undertaking. Thank
you.