LIFELINE

olside reverie. My wife answered the phone,

ters," she said with a puzzled loo

atment – real and imagined – given me as the youngest by my mother and as the lone boy by my chauvinistic father. I think they harbored a bigger resentment because I wa

alert me to their deaths. The old man's last will and testament widened the chasm between me and my sisters. He gave most of his assets to charity and the rest of them to me a

bar association at the time of his death so finding someone willing to call him incompetent would be a stretch. In

s me off even more than my father's had so many years before, so I stuck it to them as best I could. I didn't need the money, but I took it anyway just to spite them. After all, they'd have

met not a single member of my family. So I had no reason to bel

tered on my face because my w

r Trey," was

r

25 years of my life, everyone called me Trey. In reality, my name is Benjamin Charles Wallace

the right girls and joined all the right clubs in college. I was being groomed to succeed my father – who had succeeded h

women in their late 20s and early 30s who'd already lost a marriage or decided against one in the name of their sacred career. I saw people working 100-hour weeks and 30-day months and 52-w

p and took my history degree and hit the workforce. Not one of my brighter decisions, to be

fluent town 50 miles from home. I lasted a couple of years listening to the complaints of snotty rich bitches a

's aide during my two years in Edgewood. She had a trouble

date, I would watch the little girl during the times when Pam had to be at school in t

in bed together. We did the same thing the next couple of weekends Lauren was away, too. Then I started to spend evenings at their house a

d by an alcoholic father. The duo was removed by Social Services when Pam's brother almost killed their father the

hat family. I guess it must run in the bloodline or something. She ran away from "home" when she was 16 and

ent the next few years as his punching bag and drinking partner. She didn't get the courage t

d absolutely nothing, they managed to fight about every little piece

on several others. Every night he spent in jail allowed him to concoct even more ways to have what he wanted – namely his resident punching bag back. One weekend he fired nine shots at her unoccupied car when she

stration worried about my personal safety. The questions they asked the next day at the station and my

olutely no desire to physically or mentally abuse a woman. I figure the last time I struck a female I was probably 10 years old. My life has given me

y ounce of frustration in my life out on the poor bastard – not only for Pam but for Lauren, too. I was far angrier at Biff for putting Lauren through the tra

as I ever have in my adult life my last night in Pam's life. She slapped me twice for "interfering in her business" and I let it go without incident. But when Lauren wrap

seconds afterward. I was only too happy to comply and I left without looking back.

e's in trouble. You're the only pe

at all, but that is irrelevant. At the time, I thought it was. The next couple of years after our break-up were a wh

umped in my lap because I was next up on the "indigent defendant" list. The case in question, a man who served almos

liberal. The South is an enigma. Most folks are law-and-order gun nuts but social democrats. In short, they prefer all the privileges and none of the responsibilities of citizenshi

e to help him get away with his crimes. Sure, I took their money (actually their parents' money usually) but I felt myself slipping down the moral rat ho

t the police do thorough work and if you're arr

t least I could get to sleep at night without drinking half a bottle of scotch. In most states, any juvenile litigant is provided an a

only goal in life was to prosecute criminals. I find this to be a worthy goal, don't get me wrong, but I also firmly believe that a life sentence is not the

erything the court file alleged. Elizabeth was prosecuting and was pushing for the case to be moved from juvenile court. If she had succeeded, the boy would ha

a few ounces of weed was the message the Republican state representatives were trying to send with their "Tough on Crime" campaign. Eight years later, I understa

punishment fit the crime better. When I managed to convince the juvenile judge of that fact, Elizabeth stormed out of the courtroom without