The Lonely Hearts 06 The Grunt 2 (21 page)

“If you will just follow me,” the receptionist said, hands now laced together in a servant capacity. 

“Lead the way,” Brett said, pulling his crutches back under his sore underarms. 

“Talk about a 180,” Courtney whispered as they walked. 

“What was that about?” Brett asked.

Courtney shrugged her shoulders indifferently.  “Maybe you scared her.”

“How did I scare her?” Brett asked, looking over at his wife.   

Being an asshole,
Courtney thought to herself without answering.  She now gave the sarcastic smile to Brett that the receptionist had given her.  He immediately recognized the silent implication, but refused to say one more word on it.   

Following the woman from the vast lobby through the long corridor of small offices on each side filled with junior lawyers in windowless rooms busily working and talking on their phones, they both figured out why the parking lot was full.  Behind the tranquil lobby of calm and serenity, there was a mad house of employees.

Brett knew then that business was good.  

They came to a large corner office at the very end of the corridor, where they were met by a tall, African-American man in a dark-blue tailored suit and shiny white even teeth.  He was in his mid-50’s, all polish and class, but something about him seemed down to earth at the same time.  It was quite a refreshing change from the experience receptionist. 

“Can I get you anything to drink?” the receptionist asked nervously as she handed them off to their appointment.  She was quietly praying that they wouldn’t rat her out to the big boss.   

Brett ignored her as if she hadn’t said a word, while Courtney simply nodded no. 

“Hello,” Mr. Benson said, offering his hand to Courtney. “Very nice to meet you. You must be Courtney.”  His glance lingered for a moment like he knew her, then he turned.  “And you must be Brett.  Thank you so much for your service.”  He shook Brett’s hand firmly.  

“Thanks,” Brett said, liking what he saw so far.  This guy seemed like he had it together at first impression but now it was time to get down to the brass tacks of it.  

Courtney looked around as they entered the massive space.  “Nice office.”  Chandeliers.  Bar.  Solid oak furniture.  Oriental rugs.  An endless library of books.  This guy was the real deal. 

“Thank you. Please come in and get off those crutches, man,” Mr. Benson said, leading them over to the two blue leather seats in front of his enormous wooden desk in front of the panoramic view of the Atlantic Ocean.

The first thing Courtney wondered was how much his retainer actually was.  It had to be at least enough to cover the expensive real estate, the suit, the furniture, and that nice diving watch on his wrist. 
They were in for a ride.
 

“First, thank you so much for considering us.  We are honored.”  He scanned the couple and sensed their nervousness.  He had heard that this office could be rather intimidating, but Mr. Benson was good at breaking the ice for his clients.  “Courtney, I took the liberty of speaking with your lovely mother for nearly an hour on the phone the other day,” he said, having a seat behind the desk.  His broad shoulders relaxed as she unbuttoned his suit and pushed up to the desk, exuding old, seasoned confidence that only came with many years of success. 

Courtney knew that swagger; her father had it.  “Did she talk you to death?”

“No, but she did get me up to speed.  At least, from her perspective. In the court of law, it’s a third party account but it gave me a good place to start.”

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” Brett answered.

“It’s not a problem at all.  As I understand it, we don’t have a moment to waste.”  Mr. Benson, taking cues from Brett, opened up a file and reached for his reading glasses on the table.  Shaking his head, he sighed as he looked over the papers. “This is a raw deal, huh?” 

“Very raw deal,” Brett said, still disgusted by the idea that he had to be here.  “I was told that you were the best.  And I need that.  As you can see.”  He looked at the file curiously. What did that guy have in there?  They had just met.  Then he thought about Diane. As much as Courtney and her mother talked, that file probably had every single detail about his entire life in it including his blood type and social security number. 

“We don’t want to lose our son,” Courtney said abruptly.  She laced her fingers together in her lap.

“And we don’t care how much it costs,” Brett added. 

Both affirmations were music to Mr. Benson’s ears.  “Well, we’re going to work hard to ensure that that doesn’t happen, but first I like to give all my clients background on who I am and who we are as a firm.  To give you a little background on me that’s not on Google, I’ve been a lawyer for over 25 years.  Prior to that I was a Marine with the 2-2 over at Camp Lejeune.  I even had the pleasure of working under Colonel Lawless for a very brief stint.”

“Really?” Brett said, seeing that they already had something in common.

“Oh yeah,” Mr. Benson said with a grin.  “As you know, when you’re active duty you have to sign over your legal custodial rights to someone else to ensure that if you need to deploy quickly, there won’t be a problem for the child. I did that blindly. I signed over rights to my wife, who decided while I was away, the marriage was over.  When I came back and tried to get my rights to see my child back, I ended up with every other weekend, a month during the summer and a portion of the holiday break, even though I was more than a part-time dad.  Now keep in mind this was before the
Servicemembers Civil Relief Act.
  So as soon as I could, I left the Marine Corps and went to law school.  After graduating at the top of my class from UNC Chapel Hill, I started a small law firm with my best friend, Edward Krieger.  It was a studio space in the nastiest office ever about 10 miles from here. I later bought that building and turned into a homeless shelter.  Fast-forward 25 years later, we are now the best family law firm in the region, and I am now comfortably retired and a grandfather.  I spend my weekends making up for the time I missed with my oldest daughter.”

“Retired?” Brett asked.  “So this is a what?  A special case?”

Mr. Benson was glad that he asked.  “Put it like this, at this hour, most days, I’m on the 10
th
of 18 holes or having lunch at Gramercy Elementary school with my grandbabies.  I haven’t taken a case in about three and a half years.  I leave that to our staff of over 15 junior partners.” He laughed.  “But Diane and Jeffery are good friends.  When Jeffery came to the country club to talk to me about this case and play a little golf, I was happy to be of service,” Mr. Benson said proudly.  “Plus not only do you not turn down a USMC Colonel, but your story was also something that I could appreciate.  No man should be forced to be away from his child.”

Brett couldn’t agree more. 

Courtney was quiet but deeply moved.  The other day when she had shown up at her mother’s house talking about Sharon Riley, her father was already looking out for them.   She had to tell him thank you as soon as she left here.

“We truly appreciate you,” Courtney said, clearing her throat. 

“Well, we are trial lawyers with over 1500 successful, favorable verdicts.  We have a team of highly specialized lawyers, assistants and investigators at your disposal.  We belong to only the best associations and have the best affiliations.”

“I’ve got an investigator already,” Brett said quickly, circling back to the part of the conversation that caught his attention.  “He has a firm out of California and he’s a former Marine familiar with the area. He’s going to be snooping around for the next couple of weeks, and then he’ll get that information to you.”

Mr. Benson was impressed. “Great.  That’s great news.  Let’s see what he turns up.  If you need us, we’ll also employ our guys.  Does your contact know the laws of North Carolina?  I’d hate for any evidence to be considered inadmissible.”

“James Gavin is the best,” Brett answered with confidence.  “I put my life in this guy’s hands for years.  I trust him and his skills.” 

Courtney was shocked yet again.  She thought Gavin was just visiting, but in fact, her husband had been already laying the foundation for their case.  A part of her felt guilty for her haste to believe that he wasn’t motivated. 

Mr. Benson seemed pleased with Brett’s answer.  “Great.  Now that we have that out of the way, let’s start at the very beginning.  You tell me what has happened
exactly
as it happened, and I’ll take a few notes.  Once we’re done, I’ll ask you a series of questions to get some clarification.  And then we’ll work out a game plan.” 

The conversation went on for over 40 minutes.  In the quiet office, Brett and Courtney purged, as they never had before about how they had met, how they had worked to ensure Cameron had a good life and how they had been served with papers.  Each one gave the other the opportunity to tell their story, which often erupted in tears and frustration. But they made it through and when they were done, they at least knew that they truly loved each other.  Only love would cause two people to sacrifice so much. 

When it was all done, the lawyer now relaxed with his suit jacket off, hanging behind him on his chair and his sleeves rolled up, took a sip off his second cup of hot coffee and began his questions.  “As I understand it Leo Tabor has not had any contact with the child to your knowledge?” Mr. Benson probed.

“Never,” Brett said, drinking out of water bottle and wiping sweat from his brow.  His face was beet red in anger having relived his entire traumatic experience all over again in this man’s office.  He would have rather been shot again than dredge all of this up. 

“Well, I’m sure during the hearing he’ll request temporary visitation.”  He quickly spoke to calm Brett.  “We’ll request the judge push that off until a third-party child psychologist of our choosing can explain how that is not in the best interest of Cameron.” He looked through his other questions and beat the table with his pen.  “And are you going to see someone for the PTSD?” 

Brett jerked his head.  “What PTSD?”

Mr. Benson laughed. “The obvious PTSD that the plaintiff will use against you.”  He reached into his drawer and pulled out a card.  “This is on my dime and it’s completely untraceable and confidential.  Go and see her.  Dr. Lansing is the best in the business and she produces results.”

Brett wanted to turn down the card, but Courtney reached out and took it.  “Thank you.  We’ll call her this afternoon.”

“Good.  We need to show that you are doing everything to ensure a safe and healthy environment for your son,” Mr. Benson reiterated. 

Brett looked over at his wife.  “Now I have PTSD?”

“Yes, you have PTSD,” Courtney confirmed in a stern voice.

“Also, you said that you completed the adoption process on Cameron making Courtney the legal parent before you left for Iraq?” Mr. Benson asked, going down his list.

“Yes,” Brett answered. 

“I’ll need that documentation along with this long list of other items that my assistant will type out and email to you,” Mr. Benson said, eyes glued to the paper.

Brett huffed. “Not a problem at all. All I have, at least for the next 27 days, is time.”

Mr. Benson frowned as he looked over Brett’s statement.  “Earlier you said that you actually spoke with a man the day before Amy boarded the plane to leave you.  And this is the man you assume that she was going to leave you for?  Do you remember his name?”

Brett had avoided earlier saying that the mysterious man was black. It wasn’t exactly something that made a difference one way or another.  And he didn’t want to give his lawyer the feeling that he was racist, which he wasn’t, but now the cat had to be let out of the bag.  “Yes, it was Jermaine.  I didn’t get a last name, but I did keep the number…just in case.”  He reached into his pocket and pushed the number across the table. “Call the fucker if you want to. I don’t care.  In fact,” Brett stopped and chuckled, “feel free to depose him.  I would love for him to explain that to his superiors.”

Mr. Benson chuckled. “Oh, we just might,” he said, picking up the number.  He looked at the number and paused.  Wiping his face with his thumb, he bucked his eyes.  “Jermaine, you say?”

“Yeah, I would never forget that name. He had a message that said,
Hi, you’ve reached Jermaine.  Leave a message, and I’ll hit you back as soon as I can
…”

“
Peace
,” Mr. Benson said, indicating that he knew the voice mail. He knew the man. 

Brett and Mr. Benson locked eyes in silent hysteria. 

“Why do I get the feeling that you know this guy?” Brett asked without blinking. 

“Small world,” Mr. Benson exhaled, pushing away from the desk.  He stood up and walked over to the bookshelf on the far wall.  Coming back, he set a silver frame on the table of a young man in uniform.  “His name is Captain Jermaine Stanley Benson.  He is stationed in Okinawa, has been for the last four years.  Damn good officer.  Sorry to say, not so good at choosing women.”

Courtney put her hand over her mouth. 
What in the hell?
 

“He’s my son,” Mr. Benson said, having a seat.  His face was colored with disappointment.  “I’m very sorry, Brett.”