Harper Ross Legal Thrillers vol. 1-3 Read online

  Once again, she looked at Seth with a look of apology, and Seth looked as if he was going to blow a gasket. His eyes were wide, his arms were crossed, and he had a sneer on his lips as he looked at his wife. The judge was observing all of this, and scribbling notes on a pad of paper.

  “No,” she said. “He was mistaken about that.”

  “How did he get the idea that you ran into a door?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess that he really didn’t know how I got this bruise and he was just speculating.”

  “He was just speculating? So, he sees you with large bruises on her face and arm, and he didn’t bother to ask you how you got them? Is that what you’re telling the court?”

  She looked uncomfortable. “My husband is a busy man,” she said in a tiny voice. “And not always observant.”

  “Are there holes in your wall?”

  “No,” she said uncertainly.

  “I would like to remind you that you are under oath, and anything false you say to this court will be considered perjury. Are you sure that you don’t have holes in your walls?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever had holes in your walls?”

  She looked at her husband desperately, and he was slicing his neck with his hand and glaring at her. The judge was watching it all.

  “Yes,” she finally said. “There were holes in the walls.”

  “How did those holes get there?”

  She swallowed hard and didn’t answer for several minutes. She wasn’t looking at her husband, probably because she was afraid to.

  “My son,”she said after a few minutes of silence. “He punched the walls.”

  “I have nothing further,” I said.

  I looked over at Alexis, who was also making notes.

  “Ms. Winters,” Judge Michaels said. “Do you have any questions for Mrs. Brown?”

  “No, your honor,” Alexis said.

  “Okay. I would like to hear closing statements, and then I’ll make my ruling.”

  Rick stood up and cleared his throat. “Ms. Ross took the children, Abby and Rina Caldwell, and she didn’t have just cause to do so. She’s hiding the children in an undisclosed location. She was arrested for kidnapping these children, spent the night in jail and was formally charged with kidnapping in court the next day. She didn’t have a reason for taking the children. Therefore, I ask that this court order her to bring the children back to my clients immediately.”

  He sat down, and I stood up. “If it please the court,” I said, and Judge Michaels nodded her head. “Your honor, Mr. Haverford just told the court that I didn’t have a reason not to take the girls back to the Browns. I beg to differ. The girls told me…”

  “Objection, hearsay,” Rick said. “If Ms. Ross wants to use the girls’ statements, then she needs to bring the girls in to testify. But she won’t, because she’s hiding the girls from my client.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Michaels said. “Ms. Ross, please refrain from using any statements that the two girls might have given you about the Brown’s care of them.”

  I nodded my head. “Your honor, I apologize. I would like to point out that there is evidence that Mr. Brown has been abusing Mrs. Brown. Mrs. Brown has one story on how she got her bruises, and Mr. Brown has a different story. Mrs. Brown also admitted on the stand that her son, Peter, has punched walls. I would submit to you that the Brown’s home is dangerous for Rina and Abby, who are two 11-year-old girls who recently lost their mother in a violent way. Your honor, it’s dangerous for those two girls to go back to the Browns’ for even one minute, which is why I have decided to keep them away from the Browns.”

  I sat down and Alexis stood up. “In lieu of a closing statement, I would like to reiterate my recommendations to the court. I recommend that Ms. Ross brings the girls back to the Browns, and let the process go through. I agree that more investigation of the home is probably needed, and I intend to do this investigation thoroughly. I also recommend that the family be ordered to go to family counseling. But Ms. Ross cannot unilaterally make a decision to keep those children. It’s not her call.”

  Alexis sat down, and the judge made some notes. “Okay,” Judge Michaels said. “Here’s what I’m going to do. Ms. Ross, you are ordered to bring the children back to Mr. and Mrs. Brown. I’m going to order that the social worker, Danny O’Hare, who is not present, follow up on the allegations of abuse. Ms. Winters, you also must follow up on these allegations. I would like a full report on my desk in three weeks. I also order that the entire family, Mr. and Mrs. Brown, Peter Brown, and Rina and Abby Caldwell, submit to family counseling. Mr. and Mrs. Brown, your attorney will provide you a copy of the approved list of family counselors, and you must submit to your counselor once a week. I will call a status hearing in one month, and I will make further rulings then.”

  She then banged her gavel. “It is so ordered.”

  I sighed. This outcome wasn’t unexpected, so I wasn’t too upset that the judge ruled this way. Judges have to be as balanced as possible. If I were the judge in this case, I would do the same.

  “So,” Alexis said to me. “You’re now ordered to bring back the children. When can we expect that the children will be delivered to the Browns?”

  “The twelfth of never,” I said, picking up my briefcase. “You can quote me on that.”

  Alexis sighed. “You’re going to jail again if you don’t bring the kids back in 24 hours.”

  “So be it. But I’m not bringing them anywhere near that Brown’s house. Not in 24 hours and not ever. Sorry, but it’s dangerous over there, and I cannot let them be in that environment.”

  Alexis put her hand on my shoulder. “I understand your position. I really do. I admit, those bruises on Marina are suspicious. But there’s a legal process, and you have to honor that. You know this better than anybody.”

  “I do. And I’m not going to honor it. Put me in jail indefinitely if you have to, but I’m going to protect those girls are all costs.”

  “You have 24 hours,” Rick said, pointing at me. “If you don’t bring the girls back in 24 hours, you will be jailed for contempt of court.”

  “I understand.”

  At that, I took my briefcase and walked out of the courtroom.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “How did it go?” Pearl asked me when I got back to the office.

  “Like I thought it would,” I said. “The judge ordered me to bring back the girls, and she gave me 24 hours to do it. Which means, in 24 hours, I will be in contempt of the order and probably am going to end up back in jail. But, on the bright side, I saw Louisa Garrison, and she’s just as crazy as I thought she would be. I definitely need to keep her in mind when I go through my witness list. She’ll be right at the top.”

  Pearl looked concerned. “How are you going to try Heather’s case if you’re behind bars? Not to mention all the other cases you got going?”

  “I don’t know just yet. I haven’t yet figured that one out. All I know is that those two girls aren’t going to go anywhere near that house of horrors. Now, can you please do me a favor and set me up with a meeting with that Rainbow International place? Dr. Schultz and Dr. Woods are the two ‘counselors’ that Heather saw, and I do use the term ‘counselors’ lightly.”

  “Already on it,” she said. “You go and see them today at 4. Sorry for the late notice, but that was the only time that both of them could see you. Don’t worry, I have your afternoon appointments covered. I rescheduled them all for tomorrow.”

  I looked at my watch, and saw that the time was 3:15. “Ah, crap. Well, I guess it can’t be helped. Thanks, Pearl, you’re a doll. What would I ever do without you?”

  Pearl shrugged her shoulders. “Sink, I would guess,” she said with a smile. “Now, go.”

  I ARRIVED AT THE “CLINIC” right at 4 PM. It was really just two offices in a high-rise building that featured balconies. It was unusual that a high-rise would have balconies, but this one did. I looked up at one of the balco
nies and felt an internal shudder. I remembered that Heather said that she was forced out on the balcony in the cold, because she told them that she was afraid of heights. I wondered if that was something that this place did on a regular basis.

  I soon got my answer as I looked up at the building. I saw a dark-headed kid, with curly hair, who couldn’t have been more than 17 years old, like Heather, on the balcony looking down. He looked terrified, and there was an older guy right behind him. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, because they were too far up, but I saw the kid rapidly shaking his head, as if he were crying. The older man stood squarely behind him, blocking his entrance back into the office suite. The young boy put his hands over his eyes, and the older man swung him around, took the boy’s hands and put them behind his back, and then turned him around again to face the outside of the balcony again.

  I bit my lip, not wanting to see this, yet knowing that it was significant. The boy looked terrified, and this was exactly what Heather was talking about when she told me about the aversion therapy. That they would couple terrifying stimuli, or disgusting stimuli, with sexual imagery, in an effort for the person to think of the terrifying or disgusting thing every time they were aroused sexually by something deemed “wrong” by the therapist.

  The boy was finally allowed to go back into the suite, and the older man behind him led him back, with his arm around the boy.

  I took the elevator to the 20th floor, which was where this clinic was, and, sure enough, in the waiting room was the boy I had seen from down below. He was shaking all over, and I could see from his face that he had been crying. The man next to him was talking to him. “You did well, Hans, very well,” he said. “We’ll be seeing you tomorrow so that we can continue with our therapy, but you did excellent.”

  The boy, apparently named Hans, nodded his head, unable to speak. “My mom is downstairs,” he finally managed to say.

  “She’ll be very proud of you,” the man said. Neither the boy nor the man seemed to notice that I was there. If they did, they didn’t acknowledge me. “You’re very brave. You should be cured in no time.”

  The boy finally did notice me, for he looked right at me. His eyes were blue and framed by dark eyelashes. He was slight, couldn’t have weighed much more than 160 lbs, even though he was over six feet tall, and his hair was curly and somewhat unruly. I looked into his eyes and saw that he was haunted. That was the only word that I could possibly use at that moment – haunted.

  He passed by me without a word, and the older man who was with him finally noticed me too. “Hello,” he said, extending his hand. “You must be Harper Ross,” he said. “Your assistant called me today. She told me that you were interested in our services. I understand you have a young son who you’re concerned about.”

  I nodded my head, surprised that Pearl was able to lie with such ease. I guessed that she needed to, because if she ever told this place what I was really up to, they wouldn’t want to see me. I could subpoena them, but I doubted that I could get good information about it.

  “Yes,” I said. “I have a son, his name is Patrick,” I said, thinking of a name quickly. I assumed that Pearl didn’t give the guy the name of my non-existent son, because if she did, surely she would have told me.

  “Patrick.” He looked at me. “And what is the problem with Patrick?”

  “He’s gay,” I said. “And I don’t want him to be. I want him to be normal.” I almost bit my tongue in disgust having to say that. I felt dirty by being here, and I was going to feel dirty because I was going to have to talk about gay kids as if they were defective and needed to be fixed. That went against everything I had believed in my entire life.

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” he said. “Come on in. My name is Dr. Schultz, and my partner’s name is Dr. Woods. My specialty is behavioral modification, and Dr. Woods’ specialty is aversion therapy. It’s a more extreme kind of behavioral modification,” he said, leading me into his office.

  I brought out a paper and pen and started to write. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice. Now, tell me about your therapy. What goes into it?”

  “Well, we operate on the belief that homosexuality and transgenderism is a type of disease of the mind, one that can be cured. Much like other kinds of diseases of the mind that we can cure – like alcoholism or drug addiction or gambling addiction. It’s a compulsion, and, really, all that most homosexuals and transgender folks need is some good old-fashioned therapy to cure them.”

  “What does this good old-fashioned therapy consist of?”

  “Well, we start with cognitive behavioral therapy. Are you aware of that?”

  “Somewhat.” I wrote down what the man was saying in my notebook. “Tell me about that.”

  “We identify maladaptive thoughts – such as when a man thinks sexually about another man. That would be a maladaptive thought. That kind of thought is harmful. I simply train them to replace that maladaptive thought with something more positive. Such as thinking about a woman in such a sexual way. I even give my clients pictures of women that they are to take around with them in their wallets, and, every time they see a man that they feel some kind of sexual feelings toward, they are to look at the picture of the woman. They can retrain their brains to think about that woman in the same way that they previously were thinking of the man.”

  I had to suppress my laughter as this guy was talking. It was extremely difficult to do so, however. I couldn’t believe that people were so naïve as to think that a gay person could just change their brains in that manner just because this man was telling him to. If it were really so easy, I thought, all those anti-gay folks wouldn’t have any gay children, because they could just change them by giving them pictures of a hot girl to carry around.

  I bit my lower lip to keep the laughter in, and I had to compose myself enough to ask the next question. That took a Herculean effort, because the laughter was right there, and I knew that if I said something it would come spilling out. I looked up at the lights and took a deep breath. Compose yourself. Compose yourself. Think of Heather.

  “Okay,” I finally said, amazed that I was able to talk to this guy with a straight face. “Cognitive behavioral therapy,” I said, “what other kinds of therapy do you offer?”

  “Well, psychoanalytic,” he said. “We are of a firm belief that homosexuality is the result of a blockage in one of the psychosexual developmental steps that were outlined by Sigmund Freud. We use extensive talk therapy to try to root out the causes of the homosexuality or transgenderism, and try to uncover the exact moment in childhood where the person experienced the frustration that led him or her to the perversion of their current state.”

  I nodded my head. I didn’t feel like laughing this time, because this therapy seemed a bit more serious. There was just something about the last therapy, where the gay male was supposed to carry around a picture of a hot woman, to take his mind off of men, that made me want to laugh hysterically. But psychoanalysis was more serious.

  “Once you find out the moment that the person was frustrated in childhood, how do you use that information?”

  “Well, we feel that bringing that out is beneficial to the patient, because it gives him or her a chance to examine why they feel the way that they do. It gives them the tools to understand him or herself. Sometimes just understanding the compulsive behavior and the roots of it is enough.”

  I kept writing frantically. “And if it’s not enough?”

  Dr. Schultz nodded his head. “Well, when psychoanalysis and behavioral modification do not work, we go onto aversion therapy. We prefer not to do this, but this is a last-ditch effort to change the person’s ways. Let my colleague, Dr. Woods, explain this process to you better.” At that, he punched a speaker phone on his desk. “Dr. Woods, we have a potential client who would like to know more about the aversion therapy.”

  Dr. Schultz smiled warmly at me. “Dr. Woods will be right with you.”

  Sure enough, in a matter
of minutes, a tall and skinny man with wild brown hair and glasses entered the room. He was dressed in a sweater vest and khaki pants, and his shoes were scuffed and wing-tipped. He extended his hand for me to shake.

  “Harper Ross,” Dr. Schultz said to Dr. Woods. “This is Dr. Woods.”

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Hello.” He looked at me sternly. “I understand that you have a gay son and you’re interested in changing him.”

  “Yes,” I said. “That’s right.”

  “You’ve come to the right place. Dr. Schultz, I would imagine, gave you a brief overview on some of the methods that we use to change the mind set and patterns of gay individuals. I also have a method, and I find that it’s quite effective.”

  I raised my eyebrow. Effective my ass. There’s not a study around that shows that anything that you two quacks do is “effective.” Thank God.

  “Okay, tell me about what you do.”

  “It’s very important to understand something. Changing a person’s mindset and beliefs involve both a carrot and a stick. Rewards and punishment. Dr. Schultz focuses on the positive aspects – the reward that comes from thinking about something good when they’re faced with something bad. The reward of thinking of a woman sexually instead of thinking of a man sexually. That gets us halfway there. What I specialize in is the punishment aspect – the stick, so to speak.”

  “The punishment aspect?”

  “Yes. We’ve found that it’s not enough that our patients are encouraged to think of women sexually when they think impure thoughts about men. Or, in the case of lesbians, the opposite. It’s not enough that we uncover their deepest feelings from childhood, the exact moment that they became frustrated in their development, which led them to their perversion. We also have to associate those sexual thoughts with something that is negative to them.”

  “Go on.”

  “Yes. It’s called aversion therapy. Basically, we will find out what your son is afraid of. What disgusts him the most. It could be that he’s terrified of spiders. We also find out what his greatest sexual fantasies involve. Maybe it’s simply that he wants to kiss an older man. Or it might be something more explicit. Whatever the fantasy is, we show him a film that features the fantasy. Then, in the case of the boy who is terrified of spiders, we immediately show him a film featuring hundreds of spiders. We even have a tarantula right here in the office, and we bring out the tarantula and show the boy the live spider. We have the tarantula, because a fear of spiders is very common.”