I woke up and looked at the clock radio on my nightstand. It was quarter to nine. That meant I’d gotten almost eleven hours of sleep. Not bad, especially since it wasn’t even summer. I yawned and stretched. I thought about what I’d be doing today. Oh, shit! Dad and I had a meeting scheduled with my attorney, whatever his name was, at nine-thirty. Then the guy from the District Attorney’s office would be here at ten.

I reluctantly got out of bed and stood smiling for a bit. I was home, sleeping in my own bed, eating my mom’s cooking. That ended when I yawned again and decided I needed to wash up and be ready for the meetings. I didn’t shower because I didn’t have anything to put over my casts and bandages to keep them dry, so I used my washcloth and did what Mom calls a ‘sponge bath’ which is kind of silly because I wasn’t using a sponge. Whatever. Then I brushed my teeth and combed my hair.

When I got downstairs it was quarter after nine.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in!” Dad thought that was funny. Sometimes he thinks he’s a comedian.

“Yeah, but take a look at what someone did to the cat!” Mom thought that was funny.

“You’d better have some breakfast. The attorney will be here in about fifteen minutes. Cereal and toast will be quick, is that okay?”

“Yup. You know, they never served cold cereal in the hospitals. Once in a while they’d have gummy oatmeal at Campbell Memorial, but I’d skip eating it because there was no salt and no flavor.”

Mom gave me a bowl of corn flakes with blueberries on top and put a carton of milk on the table. As I ate my cereal, which was good, she made me a piece of toast which I slathered with butter, peanut butter, and orange marmalade, my favorite way of eating toast.

When I was finished I got up to put my dishes in the dishwasher.

“Sit down, I’ll take care of that.”

“Come on, Mom, I need to start getting exercise and little things like cleaning up my own dishes will help.”

I rinsed my dishes and put them in the dishwasher, then grinned at Mom.

“Why don’t you wait in the family room with your dad. I’ll finish up and join you in a couple of minutes.”

“Okay.” I walked into the family room. Dad was reading the front section of today’s paper, so I grabbed the comics. My favorites are Zits, Bizarro, and Drabble, but I like most of the comics. I guess the reason is that I like to laugh. I hadn’t been doing much of that recently, and it felt real good to be doing it now.

The doorbell rang and Dad went to answer. I stood up as a tall, thin, young looking man walked in with Dad.

“This is John Gibbs, your attorney. John, this is our son Brian.”

He smiled, and I immediately liked him.

I stood and we shook hands. “Good to meet you, Brian. I’m sorry I’m a few minutes late. I spent the night in Norman and there was an accident on the 235 coming here. We should get started right away so I have a better understanding of how we should proceed before Ian Kilpatrick gets here.”

“Good to meet you too, Mr. Gibbs.”

“What do you say, to simplify things why don’t you call me John? Saying ‘Mr. Gibbs’ makes me sound old and stuffy.”

I grinned. “That’s okay with me, John.”

“Is there a table we can use? I want to take notes as we talk.”

“Let’s go into the kitchen and sit at the table in there so you have plenty of room to take notes,” Dad replied and led the way.

Once we were seated John got right into what was going on.

“I’ve read the transcripts of your case, Brian. The only problem that I see is that it’s your word against those other three boys. The fingerprints you left and the DNA results are good evidence, but they can still say it was consensual. Even the DNA evidence and your fingerprints would be better if they were backed up by testimony by someone who actually observed the crimes.”

I grinned. “We have new information for you.” I turned to Dad. “Should I tell him, or do you want to?”

“You tell him, Brian.”

“Okay. Last night Grant Aikers came here to our house. He told us that he learned that there was an arrest warrant out for him because his stepfather had lied to the police when he said that Grant left and he didn’t know where he went. Grant had left him a note that he was staying with his grandparents. His stepfather also didn’t include the grandparents’ contact information or Grant’s cell number on the list of contacts he gave the police. Inspector Kozara came over ready to arrest Grant for violating his bail. He told the Inspector that he hadn’t been involved in the rape and he told Quin that it was queer to anally rape me. He said that when Quin wanted him to go with him and Tom when they were going to dump me somewhere, he told Quin he was crazy and he’d left and walked home. He said that he was going to contact the D.A. today and give a statement and agree to testify against Quin and Tom. Inspector Kozara believed him about not violating his bail because he let him go after listening to what he said and talking with his grandfather. When the Inspector left here he was going to see Grant’s stepfather and have a talk with him. Grant told me that he was sorry for what happened to me and for his part in it. Well, that’s sort of a summary of what he told us, sorry if it’s sort of convoluted. Inspector Kozara recorded the interview so I guess you can get a copy from him.”

John sat back and looked like he was thinking.

“This is better, having one of those boys testify against the other two. It won’t be just what they say versus what you say any longer. Grant will probably be looking for a plea bargain and can be challenged by the defense on grounds that’s why he’s testifying for the prosecution.

“Grant did say he wanted a plea bargain and would testify against Quin and Tom at the trial,” I said.

John said he had several things he wanted to talk about.

“First, Grant can’t prove he didn’t participate in dumping you.”

I thought about what Grant had told us.

“When Quin and Tom left to dump me, Grant decided to leave and walk home. His stepfather and then his grandparents would know he was with them and not driving hours with Quin and Tom to dump me over two hundred miles away in gully next to a farmer’s field near Wetherford, Texas, then driving hours so they could get back to Edmond,” I said.

John was entering all this in a computer notebook.

“Grant’s stepfather appears to be a poor witness based on him lying about where Grant was staying,” he said.

“What about Grant’s mother? Wouldn’t she remember him coming home?” Dad asked.

“In looking at the information about the perpetrators, I remember reading that Quin’s mother had died a few years ago. I don’t remember exactly when, but I can look it up if you want.” I shook my head. That wasn’t important, but it explained why Grant never said anything about his mother.

“His grandparents would know, and his grandfather is a licensed attorney. Grant told us he had been staying with them,” I said.

John looked though entries in his notebook for a few minutes. “Alright. I’ve been going through everything based on what I think the defense is going to say as they try to persuade the jury that Quin and Tom aren’t guilty. It comes down to the the physical evidence, which the D.A. has; we can verify that when Ian arrives. What’s been missing is witness testimony. With this new information from Grant I think the case against Quin and Tom is much stronger and increases the likelihood they will be found guilty.”

John turned to my Dad. “Greg, you asked me to consider whether and what kind of depositions Brian will have to participate in for both the defense and for the prosecution.”

“That’s correct. Inspector Kozara said the defense might not want to depose Brian since there’s good physical evidence and he was only conscious during the time he was being abducted. Is that true, or will the prosecution still want to depose him?”

“There is a possibility that they won’t depose him. They know he’ll be deposed by the prosecution, that’s a given, and they will have access to that information. However, he’s the victim and the prosecution will almost always depose the victim of a crime if they seem uncooperative.”

“I’m not being uncooperative!” I grumbled.

“I know that, Brian. I’m just giving some background that is typical when a victim is being deposed by the defense. 

“On the other hand, you are fifteen years old. The defense might think they can intimidate you during a deposition and impeach your testimony as a result. We’ll have to see what they do, or try to do, if they decide to depose you. If I were the defense attorney I’d go ahead and try deposing you anyway. However, they cannot badger a victim who is being deposed, and if they do that with you I’ll suspend the deposition, we’ll make them leave, and I’ll petition the court to terminate your deposition. If it’s granted, then the defense will be sanctioned and they won’t be able to use anything from the terminated deposition in court, thus eliminating use of the deposition for impeaching your testimony during the trial. So there is some risk for the defense and how much pressure they want to use when they’re deposing you.”

“So,” I asked, “what are we supposed to do if I’m told I have to be deposed by the defense? If that’s the right way to say it.”

“First, you’ll have to be summoned to a deposition hearing. Since you’re a minor, the summons has to be served on you and your parents. I will prepare an objection and file a Motion to quash the deposition. If that motion is rejected then I’ll file a request that you be deposed at home due to your injuries and fragile health. I’ll get statements from your physicians here and in Weatherford regarding your condition. Greg, you told me that Brian cannot go to school because of his condition, and that he tires easily. Is that correct?”

Even though he was addressing my dad he was looking at me, so I answered. “The surgeon at Campbell Memorial in Weatherford told me my recovery will take up to a year, maybe two years, I’ll have to be home schooled because of the danger if I fell down or if something hit my head, and I cannot paticipate in any sports for the same reasons. I get tired easily, and I get headaches. If I’m deposed I want it to be done here, at home. Can that be required?”

“Yes, accommodation for someone being deposed has to be made by the deposing parties. That will be true for both defense and prosecution depositions. So, Brian, any depositions should be conducted here, at your home. Of course, it will be up to a judge.”

“I have a question.” Now it was Mom’s turn. “What do we have to do to host a deposition at home? Do I serve water and coffee, what about lunch or snacks, what part of the house will be used, the practical things I’ll have to take care of and provide. And how many people are we talking about?”

“I’d recommend that you provide water. If the deposing party wants coffee they can bring it themselves. If a break for lunch is needed, the deposing party will go out to a local restaurant. You’ll need to have a bathroom available. A transcriptionist will be present, and up to two attorneys for the deposing party, and of course I’ll be present as well. One of you, acting as Brian’s parent, will need to be present. We’ll need to use a room that has a table that can accommodate six people and that is separate from other parts of the house, so the breakfast room that we’re using now won’t work since it’s part of the kitchen which will be used by family members. Do you have a separate dining room?”

“Yes, it’s through there.” Mom pointed to the doorway at the opposite end of the kitchen.

“If Greg is the parent at the deposition, and I’m doing what I normally would be doing here at home, do I have to stay away from the room where the deposition is happening, and will I need to stay away from the doorway from the kitchen to the dining room since there's no door that can be closed?”

“You should stay out of the dining room, assuming that’s where we’ll hold the depositions. You don’t have to worry about staying away from the doorway if that would interfere with what you’d normally be doing in your kitchen. Just restrict your activities so you don’t have to enter the dining room while the depostion is being conducted.”

“Well,” Mom said, “since we’ve talked about coffee. I made some and it’s ready if you’d like it, John. I know I would and I think Greg would also.” Dad nodded that he wanted a cup.

“How do you take your coffee, John?”

“Black, please.”

“Hey! What about me? I like coffee.” I grinned as Mom looked at me. I could tell she was surprised.

“You want coffee? So be it. How do you take your coffee, Brian?”

“Black, please.”

I do like coffee, good coffee. Sometimes after school we stop at Gulf Coffee and I get a cup and friends and I will sit and talk while we’re waiting for the buses we take to get home. Sometimes I get a latte, but I like regular black coffee best.

Mom and Dad went into the kitchen to get the coffee. John looked at me, sort of studying me.

“You got pretty well beat up by those guys, didn’t you. Did you try to fight them off?”

“Yeah. I kicked Quin in the balls, and it must have really hurt him. I hope I permanently damaged his baby factories.” Dad and Mom brought in the coffee. I could see her grimace about my language, but she didn’t say anything.

John asked, “Is that when he smashed the side of your head with the hammer?”

“I guess so. I never saw it happen. All of a sudden I was out, and the next thing I knew was when I woke up in the hospital in Weatherford, Texas.”

“Something you’re going to be questioned about is whether you’re gay or not. You told the police in Weatherford and Edmonds that you aren’t gay. Remembering that anything you say to me is totally confidential, I need to ask you Brian, are you either gay or bisexual?”

“No, neither. As far as I know I’m 100% straight.”

“Do you know any gay kids at Deer Valley High School?”

“Sure. Our high school isn’t like some around here. Kids are okay whether they are straight or gay or bi or whatever. There’s a GSA chapter at the school. But there are still a bunch of Neanderthals like Quin and Tom who hate gays and try to harass them at school. I know several kids who are gay, and I could care less.”

“Do you have any friends who don’t go to Deer Valley High School and who are gay?”

“Nope… wait a minute. I had a roommate for a couple days at Campbell Memorial who said he’s gay and asked if that was a problem for me. I said it wasn’t.”

“Did you ever do anything with him?”

“Yeah. I lost to him playing BlackOps on his PS3. He’s a game shark, in my opinion.”

John smiled. “So you’ve never had a gay relationship with anyone?”

“If by ‘gay relationship’ you mean have I ever had sex with a guy, the answer’s no, that’s never happened.”

“So the gay guys never come on to you?”

“Nope, that’s never happened either.”

“Would you name the kids at Deer Valley who are gay?”

“Absolutely not. It’s not any of my business to out anyone at school or otherwise. There’s no way I’d name any of the gay kids at school.”

“What if you were asked that question by the defense, either during a deposition or on the witness stand?”

I grinned and pointed at him. “During the deposition I’d expect you to tell the defense attorney that it’s not a relevant question and tell me not to answer. On the witness stand I’d expect you to object and be so persuasive that the judge would overrule the defense attorney.”

“You watch a lot of crime shows on TV, don’t you,” then John laughed.

“Yup. CSI, Law and Order, True Crime, 48 Hours. I like that kind of show.”

“Well, trials don’t proceed the same way in a real courtroom as they do on a TV show. For one thing, a TV show has to compress time so things that would take hours or days or maybe even weeks or months can all happen during a one hour show.

“But, to get back to what you said, you’re correct. During a deposition I’d tell the defense attorney that he’s asking an inappropriate or inadmissible question and I’d tell you to not answer that question. During a trial I’d object to the question and provide the judge with my rationale for objecting.”

I saw Dad check his watch. “Maybe Ian Kilpatrick got stuck in the backup on 235.”

“We can use his absence as an advantage. Brian, are you up to walk through a question and answer session similar to a deposition? The questions that I’ll ask you will be relevant to the case against Quinten Santoni and Thomas Calloway.”

“Sure.” 

The questioning proceeded. I saw how he worded questions to make it possible for him to twist my answers to mean something other than what I intended. Then he told me how to answer the questions to get around how he’d asked them. Like this one, “When did you go to the Santoni home most recently?” and I answered, ‘Never.’

John told me how to reword my response. So I said, ‘I have never been to the Santoni home, only to their chicken shed one time and I didn’t go until I had been kidnapped and forcibly taken there. If Quin and Tom took me into the Santoni home, it would have been after they knocked me out and I was unconcious.’

“Their attorney is going to object to the way you answered that question. Just sit there and smile at him. It forces him to ask you for claification and it’s really, really going to piss him off. That’s a good thing. I’ll step in and take over if it gets too argumentative. Let’s try another question.”

And we did, question after question and answer after answer. It was fun. John did a great job pretending to be a very pissed off defense attorney, and then he’d change roles and interrupt himself as the prosecuting attorney. By the time we heard the doorbell I felt really good about how I was able to answer questions without any prompting. And I found out he was, too.

“Brian, you are a natural. Just remind me never to have to question you from an adversarial side. I think you’ll do great being questioned both during depositions and on the witness stand.”

“Thanks, John. Now I’m actually looking forward to being questioned by the defense attorney. They can bring on my deposition!” I grinned.

Dad walked in with Ian Kilpatrick. He was just about the opposite of John Gibbs, short and a bit on the pudgy side. They obviously knew each other and shook hands.

“Ian, this is my son Brian Anderson. He’s the victim of Quinten Santoni and Tom Calloway.” I stood and shook hands with him, and we all sat at the kitchen table.

“I assume you know about Grant Aikers,” John stated.

“I received Inspector Kozara’s report last night. It explains that Grant Aikers has been staying with his grandparents in Guthrie and he released Grant with a recommendation that his bail be reinstated with no violation. He interviewed the stepfather who admitted that he knew that Grant was staying with his grandparents and that he wasn’t a runaway.”

“What’s going to happen with Grant’s stepfather?” I asked.

“We’re considering our options at this time. I can’t say anything else. The reason I’m late is I needed to read Inspector Kozara’s reports, another report relating to this case, and a summons for Brian to be deposed.”

“Who’s asking for the deposition?”

“Quinten Santoni’s attorney, Ralph Westerley.”

“Does he know about Grant Aikers?”

“The only thing that’s been released is that the arrest warrant for Grant Aikers has been withdrawn and the reason for the withdrawal is that he’s not a runaway and is staying with his grandparents. We haven’t released anything about Grant testifying for the prosecution and that we’re working on a plea deal for him.”

“Did Tom Calloway’s attorney seek a summons for this deposition?”

“No. I contacted Calloway’s attorney and told her that if they want to dispose Brian they need to do it at the same time as Santoni’s deposition. They may object, saying they don’t want to expose their client’s defense to Santoni’s attorneys. I’ll take that to the judge and plead for a ruling that the depositions must be consolidated because of Brian’s health and that the depositions must be conducted here, at the Anderson home, again because of Brian’s health.”

“You are way ahead of me, Ian. That’s exactly what I would have wanted. How about the prosecution deposition?”

“That’s one of the things I want to schedule while I’m here today. I supposed you’ll want to prep your client before the deposition, so I’m willing to schedule it at Brian’s convenience.”

“Brian won’t need any prepping. He’s an excellent witness, especially for a victim still recovering from his injuries. We can schedule the prosecution deposition at any time everyone is available.” He turned to me. “Right, Brian? Mr. Anderson?”

“Right,” I replied. Dad replied, “Whatever works with all of our schedules.”

They compared schedules, ignoring me as they had for most of their conversation about the depositions. That was just fine with me. I was starting to get tired.

After about five minutes they’d decided on Friday, March fifth, at nine a.m. for my deposition by the prosecutor, that it would be held here at home, and that Dad would take off work to be here during the deposition.

“I have a question for Ian,” I said, “what about the FBI?”

“The Federal prosecutor has not decided whether to combine their case with ours or proceed independently. We’re not waiting for their decision, but if they decide to combine then our case will be take longer to get to trial.”

John asked, “Do the defense attorneys know about the Federal case?”

“Not unless they’ve made an inquiry to the Federal prosecutor. They should have realized that there would be a Federal case. They kidnapped Brian, took him across state lines, dumped him in a gully by the side of the road in Texas, and crossed state lines to return to Oklahoma.”

“Shouldn’t they have been notified?” For some reason John seemed to want to know a lot more about the Federal case against Quin and Tom.

“Not until the Federal case has been completed and filed. And even then the defense will have to assign a legal assistant to look for that case in the Daily Federal Register.” Ian grinned a rather nasty grin. “I assume Quinten Santoni’s attorney is collecting big bucks to defend him. I’d recommend that they should be paying attention to every aspect of the case and the upcoming trial or trials.” I guessed that he was making a joke.

There was a lot more talking and I sat there bored and tired. I closed my eyes and must have fallen asleep. I slept right through when John and Ian left, and when Mom started fixing some soup for lunch. The soup smelled so good that it woke me up. I looked around and saw that I was at the kitchen table by myself. Someone had put a pillow on the table right in front of where I was sitting, and I’d been lying my head on it. I sat up and saw Mom at the stove.

“Hi.”

Mom turned and looked at me. “Hi yourself, Brian. How was your nap?”

“Good, I guess.”

“Only good?”

“Yeah, only good. That’s ‘cause I was sleeping and didn’t even know that I was taking a nap, so the back of my neck is stiff.”

“Are you hungry? I’m fixing grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken and rice soup.”

“That sounds good, and smells even better.”

“Why don’t you go wash your hands and you and I will have lunch and chat.”

I went to the bathroom and peed and washed my hands. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked tired. That’s because I was tired. Jeez, I’d just finished sleeping for I didn’t know how long, and I’m still tired. Maybe it was all that talk about depositions and how complex they are that wore me out. That and the practice I did for when I’ll be deposed and be on the witness stand. Whatever. Now I was hungry. And I wondered what Mom wanted to chat about.