Joad in February

JOAD

I'm Tom Joad, and my wife is Linda. I'm just 5'10" and weigh 165.( But I have my strengths). We met in college when I was 23 and she 21. I was in the Army, taking classes to get a dual degree in economics and accounting. She was a biology major.

My Army work was intermittent, but dangerous. Our unit was assigned to accomplish discrete missions, often involving punishment of someone ostensibly a friend. In short, we were assassins. My specialty was planning and close combat.

I graduated at 25 years old and two years later I resigned from the army and married Linda. Two kids came along in four years - both girls. I was working for myself doing accounting for some local businesses, and also was trading commodities from home. Linda was busy with the kids. But when we had been married ten years, she got work at a local laboratory, connected to the college. Both girls were in school, and I was working from home, so she could get back to work, which she liked.

We were living in the house that I grew up in. I had owned it since my parents moved to Florida, and I bought it from them when I was still in school. (Some of our army missions gave the unit a chance at some loot, which we split up ten ways. So I had money when the chance to buy came up.)

At the end of February one year, we decided to go out with our neighborhood friends, dinner and dancing at a club afterwards. There were eight of us, and we all had sitters for the night. Linda and I had booked a room at the hotel connected to the dance club. She looked spectacular 5'6" slim, brunette, wearing a blue silky dress.

We had a great meal and a lot of fun dancing at the club, when a party of six came in. One of them was a big blond guy - Marc Stevens who was an all pro linebacker for the local team. He was immediately noticed by all the women at our table. Stevens was with a lovely blond woman, who wore what looked like a big engagement ring. They danced well together. Our friend June said she was a cheerleader for the team, engaged to Stevens.

After they had been there some time, I noticed Stevens looking at our table. He got up and walked toward us. He immediately focused on Linda and just asked her to dance without even looking at me. I put my hand on her arm to stop her, but she got up from the table and went with him. She didn't look back at me at all. I was more than a little annoyed.

I was even more annoyed when, after two fast dances a slow number came on and Linda melted into Marc's arms. I got up and walked to the bar, right past them. The women at our table didn't like that, and made it clear. But I went anyway. Not that it made any difference to Linda, who never noticed me walk by. I got a coffee. When the slow number ended the two of them separated and Linda walked back toward out table. I stayed at the bar drinking my coffee. I saw her look around for me, and see me over there. She looked a bit flustered. She sat next to June. I walked over, and as I approached the two of them got up.

I said, 'Did you have your fun?'

'Sorry, maybe I got a little carried away.'

'Maybe so.'

June cut in, 'Tom, it was just a little dancing, nothing much.'

'I thought it was insulting to me,' I said. I sat down.

'June and I are going to the ladies room. We'll be right back.' Linda said.

They left, and so did Marc, walking out the front, without the blond. June came back, but Linda wasn't with her.

I asked, 'Where is she?'

'Tom, Linda isn't here now, she went with Marc.'

'You're kidding.' I ran out front and saw Linda get into a red Escalade. The car pulled off.

I went back to the table. June was speaking to the rest.

'Did all of you know what she was doing?'

June said, 'Tom, you need to let her have this night. She'll come back to you tomorrow.'

'No, I don't need her to come back. Let her know that when you talk to her. We're finished.'

There was a general hubbub at the table when I said that. They all thought I was being too harsh.

So I barked at them, 'I don't want to have anything to do with any of you any more. You all knew and no one warned me, so I could maybe stop her. Now, she's going to lose everything for a night of sex.'

I walked toward the coat check desk, but I saw the blond at the table with the other four that came with Stevens. She was crying. I walked over.

'Are you his girl friend?'

'Yes, I was his girl. Not now, though.'

'Where did they go?'

'To our house on Cherry Lane. He said he would never do this once we were engaged. I'm sorry, was that your wife?'

'Was is the operative word there,' I said.

'He'll be finished with her in the morning, and drive her home. He likes to gloat at the husband.'

'What an asshole!'

At that the other two guys, both big, one black, one white, took offense. I ignored them. I gave May my business card, and told her to give me a call. She smiled, but she was crying. I walked away.

I got my coat, but left Linda's . I went to the hotel room, and took my case, but left Linda's . I checked out.

As I drove home a fully formed plan came to me. This had happened to me while I was serving. It's why I was alive now. Too bad a plan hadn't occurred to me before Linda left.

I pulled my car into the garage, went inside and engaged the security system.

I went downstairs and retrieved a rope I had stored there for some years.

Then I went upstairs and took off my clothing, and jogged to the second floor. I got a black Underarmour suit, a black hoodie and dark grey sweatpants I put on some old sneakers, and two sets of gloves. I also got a baclava mask. I put it all on and climbed up to the attic with the rope. I fastened it securely to a beam, as I had done when I lived there as a kid. I climbed out of the narrow window and bounced down the side of the house. There was nothing but a wooded area on that side.

I ran and hopped the side fence, down the path to the rear workshop. I let myself in, and got a backpack, some extra wool socks, a pen knife and an old hand axe that I had deep in a toolbox. I stored all that in the backpack.

Then I got my bike and left, pedaling away toward the river, through some woods. I went across the river bridge, and up toward Cherry Street. I saw the house with the football statue, and a red Escalade parked in front.

I took the axe and knife, jumped the fence and jogged past the SUV. I used the axe to break the passenger side window. The alarm sounded. Then I jumped to the porch and hid behind a pillar near the door. I didn't have to wait long.

The lights went on and the door opened. Asshole poked his head out and used the key fob to stop the alarm. He stepped outside. He had a semi-automatic pistol.

I smashed the axe into his head as he passed me. He fell, and crawled a bit. I finished him with another powerful, two handed blow with the axe. I went back and closed the front door.

I turned and jogged off. I jumped the stone wall and returned to my bike. I took the wool socks out, and put the axe, knife, gloves and shoes inside the backpack, zipped it up. I mounted up and rode away toward the river. When I got near the bridge, I stopped and tossed the entire backpack as far out into the river as I could -- which was pretty far. There had been a rain the day before and the river was moving fast.

I rode my bike back toward home, and through the nearby woods to the workshop. I let myself inside. I took off the socks and put on another pair of sneakers. I sprayed the bike handles and pedals with an ammonia solution and wiped them. Then I jogged back, hopped the side fence and climbed back up the side of the house. That wasn't as easy as I thought it would be, but I made it, and scrambled through the small window. I pulled up the rope and wound it up.

I wiped down the windowsill with a rag and trotted down to the basement, with the rope. I took off all my clothing, including the mask and under gloves, and put them into the washer. Then I showered in the basement bathroom, for some time, washing everything twice. Once that was done, I put on a pair of exercise shorts and went upstairs. I left the door open to the basement so I could hear when the washer stopped. I thought about it, and put on the clothing I had worn to the club the night before.

I went back down to the basement and transferred the wet clothing to the dryer. I went upstairs and made a snack, and had a shot of whiskey. Then I sat for a while, thinking things through again. When the dryer stopped, I took the clothes upstairs and put them away into their spots. The baclava mask went up into the back of the closet, where I had it stored to begin with. I looked at the clock. It was 2:50 a.m. The whole thing, from when I went into the house from the club, started at midnight.

I went downstairs and sat on the couch and had another whiskey. I fell asleep.

I was awakened by the door chime at 6:02 a.m. I looked at the door camera display and saw two people -- an African-American woman and a white guy with a crew cut. Cops.

The doorbell rang again, and I opened it.

'Who are you? You look like police,' I said.

'I'm Detective Asper, and this is Detective Logan,' the black woman said. They flashed their badges.

I put on an uncertain face. 'Is it Linda? He didn't hurt her did he?'

'No, she hasn't been physically injured. But Mr. Stevens has been attacked. May we come inside?'

'Sure. Where's Linda? Did you bring her?'

The white detective said, 'No sir, she's in hospital -- being treated for shock.'

I paused for a second. I just looked at them. And they just looked at me.

'Have a seat,' I said indicating the couch. but they sat apart in two straight back chairs. So I used the couch.

'I think you should explain what happened,' I said.

'What have you done since your wife left the club with Stevens?' This was Logan again.

'Just tell me what happened, okay?'

Asper answered, 'No, you should just answer the question.'

'I went to our hotel room, got my stuff, checked out and drove here. I drank myself to sleep on this couch. You woke me up.'

'Is anyone else here?'

'No, kids are at a sitter for the night.'

'Did you make any calls? Email anyone -- you know to prove you were here.'

'Nope. But I never left.'

Asper looked around, 'I see you have a security system. What does it cover?'

'Covers all the doors. I think I can show you I was here. Come upstairs.'

They followed me to the upstairs office, and I sat at the computer desk. I showed them the system, and they watched me download the data from 6:00 p.m. to when they arrived. I gave them a jump drive. The system was focused on all three doors -- front, side and patio sliding door to the pool area. The side that I had come down had no door, faced the woods, and had two large windows -- but neither opened. So there was no coverage.

'We're going to have to take that computer,' Logan said.

'Why? You watched me download the security data.'

'Because you might have messed with it before we got here.'

'Okay, but I can't have it gone for more than a day. It's a work computer and I need it. I have a replacement, but it won't do for long. Watch me... I'm going to download some stuff onto this external drive, including what I just gave to you.'

And I did that.

They asked to look around, and I let them, but I insisted that they stay together, and with me. They took some pictures and then left. It was 7:10 a.m.

I called Linda's parents. They were John and Stephanie, and lived in the next neighborhood over. But they were at their lake house then. I told them what had happened, and that the police said Linda was in hospital in shock. John was really taken aback by what Linda had done. Stephanie, maybe not so much.

Stephanie asked, 'Are you going to see her?'

'No. Sorry, that's why I called you. I really don't want to have anything to do with her after what she did. It's a bad break that the guy was attacked, but that's not on me. Apparently he's done this sort of thing many times.'

'When she gets out of the hospital she needs to stay away from me and the house. We can make arrangements for her stuff to get transferred.'

John said, 'Why don't you move and she stay? The kids have lived there all their lives.'

'It's my house. It's not community property.'

John was a lawyer, and I guessed he'd try to finagle something. We'd just have to see.

He said, 'That's pretty harsh, Tom.'

'Not as harsh as what she did to me.'

That ended the conversation. Then I called my folks in Florida. I told them what had happened, as much as I could. They also were shocked by Linda's behavior.

My dad had the TV on and he told me there was a headline about Stevens. It said he was attacked and killed at his home.

Not news to me.

The phone rang -- land line. It was Judy.

'Tom, where's Linda? We heard that Marc was killed.'

'She's in hospital with shock, I'm told by the police.'

'Have you seen her? Which hospital?'

'I don't know. I don't plan on seeing her.'

'Don't be like that. She needs your support.'

'She'll never have any support from me. I don't care that her big night was ruined -- if it was ruined.'

'I'm going to go see her. You're a pig. Did you kill Marc?'

'Nope, but I'm not sorry about it. Good riddance.'

Judy hung up.

I showered, again, and got dressed to go pick up the kids from the sitter. It was about 0800. When I got there, they had not heard anything about the evening's activities. We went home, and they wanted to know where Linda was.

I said, 'She won't be here today, I think. She has something she has to do. We'll just get on with the day. Get dressed for soccer.'

I took them to the soccer complex, where their games were at noon and 1:30. I was pretty relaxed watching them play. Michelle, the youngest was pretty good. Laura not so much, but she tried hard and it was good exercise.

After the games ended we got ice cream and went home. There were some messages on my cell phone. I had it on mute while I was out with the girls.

One was from Linda's parents, telling me she was at St. Jude's hospital, and was non-communicative.

One was from a doctor at the hospital, asking me to call her.

One was from Judy -- telling me Linda was with the police, and wasn't talking to anyone. She said I should probably cool off and bring the girls to see her.

I called the girls downstairs and told them that their mom was in the hospital, and that she was not injured, but was emotionally damaged by something from last night.

They wanted to know what happened.

I told them, 'Your mom went off with a famous football player, to his house to have sex last night. There's no other way to say this. I thought about keeping it from you, but I figured you'd find out. When she was there, someone attacked the football guy, but apparently not her. But she must have found him, or something, because she is in the hospital, in shock.'

They weren't sure if they wanted to go see her, but I told them to get dressed and we would go.

I called the doctor back -- Dr. Laura Thompson. She said Linda was traumatized and at the moment was catatonic. I asked her about bringing the kids. She hesitated.

The doctor asked, 'Are you going to see her?'

'I really don't want to see her at all. I assume you know why. But I can bring the girls, if you think it might help.'

'Do they know what happened? I mean, about the surrounding circumstances?'

'You mean about the sex between Linda and the football guy? Yes. I told them. They are dressed and ready to come there, if you think it might help Linda.'

'Okay, I'll meet you at room 311 in 30 minutes,' she said.

We went there. Dr. Thompson was in her late thirties, and her specialty was as a psychiatrist. We spoke for a brief time, and then she spoke to the girls. She said that their mother had had a real shock and that she seemed unaware of her surroundings. She said that seeing the girls might help. Did they want to see her?

They did. I accompanied them to the door, and peered in. Linda was sitting in a bed, staring at a TV with cartoons. The girls walked up to her, tentatively.

Laura, the oldest, touched hand and called her mom. Shellie followed. But there was no reaction. Shellie started to cry. I went to her, picked her up, looked at Linda. Northing. I took Laura's hand and walked them out.

'Well, we tried,' I said.

'Will she wake up?' Laura asked.

Sure, some time,' I said. 'Maybe you can visit her again soon. Maybe when she comes around you can see her.'

'What if she doesn't wake up?' Shellie whispered.

I was reassuring, 'She will, I know it. Maybe slowly.'

The doctor said, 'Girls, I will surely let you know when she comes back from this.'

We left the hospital. The girls were both crying in the car. Maybe I shouldn't have taken them. I just wanted to see Linda, and see if their presence would help. Despite my callous reaction to her infidelity, I hadn't wished this upon her. I felt bad about it, although she deserved to suffer. Not like this, though. I felt some tears on my cheeks.

When we got home, I made up some eggs and toast for them to eat. I intentionally got them involved in the cooking, pretending I needed help. It seemed to cheer them up -- to be able to boss me around. Then I put on a movie for them.

I went into my office and called a friend of mine, to see if I could get some information on what happened at Stevens' house (after I left). He was a public defender, and very good at it. He said that I would not be able to get the police reports. But he had an idea -- ambulance runs reports were publicly available. I asked him to get that, if he could, and we hung up.

I went into the living room and watched the movie, absently, thinking through what might happen.

In an hour my lawyer friend called back. He said he had emailed me the ambulance run, and it was pretty bad. I told him about the police visit. He said that if the security showed no one coming or going, I probably didn't have to worry. But he also said that the police might get a search warrant, or want to talk to me again. He recommended a lawyer to me, if needed.

I thought that I did not need a lawyer, but I called the woman anyway, after I saw the ambulance report. Police had found Linda with Stevens' head cradled in her lap. She had blood all over her, dressed in just a thin robe. She was chanting, 'NO, NO, NO, NO...' over and over.

The police gathered her up and put her into the ambulance. She had been unresponsive when the ambulance got there, and all the way to the hospital. An officer had ridden along with her, asking if she saw who did it. But he got no response.

I was sickened by this. And it made me wonder if she would ever recover. I looked up PTSD. I had looked it up before, for me. I looked up shock induced catatonic state. It seemed as if people normally recovered from the catatonic state, but might be affected for years by the PTSD.

The lawyer -- Joan Drake -- made an appointment for me to see her that Monday morning at 0930. She gave me her cell number in case police came earlier. They didn't The girls and I spent Sunday lounging around, with me trying to reassure them that Linda would return sooner or later, but may still need our help.

As for me, I wondered what her reaction to me might be, when she had one. I was pretty sure she hadn't seen anything. And if she did see something, it would only have been a person all in black, with a mask. But maybe she would make an assumption about me doing that. I didn't know. I didn't think she had any experience of me that would allow her to seriously think I would be capable of doing what, in fact, I did do.

Monday I got the girls off to school. I had monitored coverage of Stevens' killing on the local news. Linda's name had not been mentioned. But it was said that Stevens had been 'hosting' a married woman when he was attacked just outside his home. Police were called by a neighbor in response to Linda's screaming.