What No One Else Can Hear (21 page)

Mr. Liston didn’t look nearly as calm. He and his lawyer were already in Kyle’s waiting room when Sara, Dottie, and I arrived at 8:45 a.m. The man with William Liston this time was not the prosecuting attorney we had seen with him earlier. This could only be his personal lawyer.

Whoever it was, Kyle made them both wait until exactly nine o’clock before he admitted them and started the meeting.

Kyle stated that the purpose of the meeting was to come to a settlement so we could spare the statesman the negative PR associated with a lawsuit.

Mr. Liston tried to take control immediately. He pulled out his checkbook and a pen with a flourish and addressed me personally.

“And how much would it take to settle this nonsense, Mr. McKinnon?”

Sara and Kyle just smirked, Dottie was indignant, and I simply answered the question.

“Write one of the checks for $500,000, Mr. Liston, and make it out to the Lynneville Center for Children with Autism, and be prepared to meet quite a few more demands before the day is out, many of which have nothing to do with money.”

That rattled him. I’m sure that up until now, the man hadn’t met many people who weren’t after his money. I couldn’t care less about it, and he was about to find that out.

“In addition, you will send $1000 extra each month to the center for as long as Stevie is in residence—and no
,
Mr. Liston, you will
not
move him, because we certainly wouldn’t want proof of just how ‘generous’ your monthly contributions have been to date to come to the attention of the press, would we?”

He paled and started writing the checks.

I wasn’t finished. I indicated Dottie with a nod of my head, and continued. “While you’re writing checks, Mr. Liston, write one to Dorothy Campbell to cover repairs to her house and car, necessary because of vandalism directly caused by your fraudulent charges against me. I figure $100,000 should cover it.”

Dottie joined the ranks of smirking Jesse McKinnon supporters.

“That’s certainly doable, Mr. McKinnon,” Liston said as he finished the checks and pushed them toward me. “Now, if you’ll just sign this paper my lawyer drew up stating we have come to a settlement and you will relinquish—”

“Oh, Mr. Liston, you misunderstand.” I was feeling rather smug by now. “I’m not at all finished with my list of demands.”

It was Liston’s turn to smirk as he took out another check and said, “I wondered when you’d get around to the amount for yourself.”

No one in the room even reacted to that as I simply continued stating my demands.

“You will rescind the restraining order and drop the lawsuit against the Lynneville Center for Children with Autism, as well as recant all the horrible
false
things you have been saying about me and the center all along your campaign trail.”

“Of course, Mr. McKinnon. I’ll have the paper print a retraction in their evening edition.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Liston. I want the rebuttal to be just as public as the initial slander. I’m not talking about a small article on page twelve of an evening paper. You will call a special press conference today detailing all the evidence we produced in court as well as your ‘personal observations’ of Stevie and me together, and I want every one of your appearances from now until election day to include a heartfelt and elaborate apology to both me and the center, for all the untrue things you have said or insinuated, and for all the damage you have caused the center and all the children in it, including your son.”

He looked as if he was going to refuse, but when he glanced at his lawyer for advice, the man nodded acceptance of the terms. William reluctantly agreed.

Kyle took over, sliding a piece of paper with an itemized list he had come up with. “You will also pay Jesse this sum, which includes back pay for nine weeks, the amount needed to repaint his car, and my legal fees.” I hadn’t wanted any of Liston’s money, but Kyle insisted I was entitled to at least that much, so this was a compromise.

Mr. Liston agreed easily to what he thought was our last demand. “If you’ll just sign this now….” He slid the paper across the table to me once more.

“I have one more term, Mr. Liston.”

He sneered and said, “You want another check to cover your pain and suffering. How much will that one be?”

“I don’t want your money, Liston. I wouldn’t accept the check for the back pay and legal fees except I have financial obligations I haven’t been able to meet because of this nonsense you caused. So it seems fair to let you solve those problems for me.”

I seemed to have his attention, so I continued. “No, Mr. Liston. This last demand has nothing to do with money, and is the one condition that is absolutely nonnegotiable.”

“What is this all-important condition, Mr. McKinnon?”

“I want permanent custody of Stevie.”

He finally lost his composure on that one. “What? I can’t do that. How would it look?”

“That’s the wrong question, Mr. Liston,” Kyle interrupted. “I have a few that might be more important to you. How would it look to your constituents when we show the world the letters you wrote the center saying that you wanted nothing more to do with ‘that kid’? How would it look when we air the taped phone conversations where your angry voice can be heard telling Miss Marshall here not to take up your valuable time with petty concerns of a child you turned over to the center to handle? How would your adoring public feel when they found out that you
knew
Stevie had been drawing pictures of Jesse for six years? That you were sent a picture he drew of Jesse, and asked if it could possibly be of anyone in Stevie’s life prior to coming to the center? How about when they find out your answer to that request was to reiterate you wanted nothing more to do with the boy? What about when we release the visitor’s log for the last six years, and—surprise, surprise—your name isn’t on it a single time? Shall I go on, Mr. Liston? Because I have quite a bit more: financial records, a notarized field trip permission form that would prove you perjured yourself in court yet again, a tape of….”

Liston cut Kyle off. “That is quite enough, Mr. Williams. I get your point. But you don’t understand. I just spent the last two months telling the public how close I am to my son. How can I now just give him to a complete stranger? Are you
trying
to ruin my political career?”

I answered this one. “I couldn’t give a damn about your political career. In my opinion, you’re a piss-poor father, but maybe you would be an okay governor. I’m content to let the people decide that. All I care about is that you are out of any position of control in Stevie’s life. You made his life a living hell for the last nine weeks. Despite two of his doctors’ recommendations, you kept me away from him simply to avoid the bad PR Chuck could have caused when he told the public you had been given ‘evidence’ your child had been abused and had chosen to do nothing about it. You didn’t look into the validity of the ‘evidence.’ You didn’t even visit your child to see if he did indeed act like he had been abused. You put your career over your child’s well-being, and in my book that is not the action of a father who should retain custody of his child.”

Kyle and I had discussed this prior to the meeting. This was one of the main reasons we wanted to settle out of court. No way would a court strip a powerful, influential man like William Liston of his parental rights, and despite the obvious withholding of attention, he had done nothing that a court of law would deem him unfit as a parent. The law didn’t require that a parent actually care about his child; he is only required to provide for the child’s needs. Liston had put his child in a reputable institution that was doing just that. Offering our continued silence in exchange for custody was the only thing we could think of to get Liston out of a position of power in Stevie’s life. It would put that control into the hands of someone who truly loved him. All we could do was make our offer and hope to hell the egotistical billionaire would go for it.

Mr. Liston looked like he was actually considering it but was still trying to figure out how he could make it look good, so I continued.

“Mr. Liston, I don’t care
how
you spin this to the media. Tell them that after spending time with Stevie and me and seeing how much better your son is when he’s with me, and considering how ‘fragile’ your son is, you felt it was in his best interest to have someone he obviously trusted immediately available to him. Someone who could sign for medical treatment and the like. I’ll even let you wait for a month or two before signing over permanent custody to give that story some weight, but in that case, I want a limited power of attorney effective immediately to be able to make decisions about Stevie’s welfare on your behalf. And be aware that if I am not granted complete and permanent custody of Stevie by the end of two months, I
will
go to the media with all our evidence.”

He still wasn’t sure.

“Be creative, Mr. Liston. Blame your career that takes you away from your beloved son, and therefore out of reach in medical emergencies. Tell them you plan on continuing your close relationship with your son despite the fact of giving legal responsibility to someone more available. In other words, Mr. Liston,
lie
. We all know you can do that if you feel the situation warrants it, and believe me, sir, this one does. Because this is the crux of the deal. I either leave here with limited power of attorney and a promise from you of legal custody within two months, or I go directly from here to the media with this very large folder of extremely interesting material.”

For the first time today, and quite possibly for the first time in his life, Mr. Liston realized he wasn’t in control of his current situation. This obviously rattled him quite badly, as he did a very good impersonation of the ugliest goldfish I had ever seen.

I tossed the file onto the table, leaned back in my chair with my arms folded, and awaited the baffled man’s answer. Kyle had already drawn up papers for Liston to sign giving me limited power of attorney, and rescinding the restraining order, effective immediately.

Liston finally agreed to our deal. He hadn’t wanted to, but he felt we had him over a barrel. I hated to resort to what amounted to blackmail, but I’d do anything to make life better for Stevie, and having this man out of his life was really what was best for him. I was a little worried about not having permanent custody right away. The offer of a two-month grace period had been Kyle’s idea. He had said it would leave Liston with a feeling of having a little control, and men like him needed that. They didn’t react well to being backed into a corner. Kyle said we still had evidence we could and
would
use if he went back on the deal.

I went along with it, but it scared the hell out of me. Liston obviously wasn’t the most trustworthy person, and I doubted his word really meant much to him. I was really afraid we had just given him two months to find a way around this deal. Kyle said that at least I would have power of attorney to make decisions regarding Stevie’s well-being. That was legal and binding, but rescindable. So while I left the meeting feeling justified and mostly pleased with the outcome, I was still scared to death about what the future might hold. I would be afraid until Stevie was legally mine, and Liston’s long arm of influence was out of the picture for good.

While we had more or less gotten one big fish in this whole fiasco, the other one, the one who started it all, was still free and clear.

Kyle said to leave Chuck to him, so I was trying to put both Liston
and
Chuck out of my mind, at least for now. If Kyle was on the case, Chuck was sure to get what was coming to him, eventually. Kyle had a devious mind—one of the reasons I liked him.

So that was my mood as I drove onto the campus of Lynneville Center for Children with Autism for the first time in nine weeks. I became a little more lighthearted just being able to do that. But when Dottie and I walked onto Hall 3-B and I was literally bowled over by an ecstatic Stevie, all dark thoughts left my head and I just sat on the floor with an armful of giggling ten-year-old, and I thanked the fates that I could do this again in the real world instead of just in the forest.

I
PLANNED
to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with Stevie in the capacity of a visitor. The board of directors had agreed with Sara that I had been wrongfully denied my job in the first place. Now that the restraining order was gone, I could start work again on Monday.

I finally convinced Stevie to let me stand up, and he stood with me, still hugging me tight. Drew came up for his turn, and when Stevie wouldn’t relinquish me, Drew just hugged me over him. Drew spoke quietly in my ear.

“Welcome back, Jess,” he said in a throaty voice I hadn’t heard before.

Everyone else took a turn congratulating me, and Stevie just held on while I made my way down the hallway to the living room.

An air of celebration infused on the whole hall. Staff from other halls came over, one or two at a time, to congratulate me and welcome me back. The staff on 3-B ordered in enough pizza and breadsticks for the whole hall, and we all stayed there for dinner, children and staff alike.

Stevie grabbed a large slice of pizza, settled down in his usual chair at the table, and began his ritual of pizza eating. He ripped off the pepperoni and put it in a pile to be disposed of later. When he ate the square pizzas they served for meals here, I had asked him why he didn’t just choose a slice of cheese pizza if he didn’t like pepperoni. He told me the pizza looked better with the pepperoni on it.

The next thing he did to his poor unsuspecting pizza was to meticulously pick off every last shred of cheese and place that in another pile, which he would eat later, so I was never sure why it needed to be separated from the pizza to begin with. Finally he took a napkin and wiped off as much of the sauce as he could.

I didn’t understand this either, because he liked ketchup, so I would have thought he’d like pizza sauce, but he always wiped it off. Maybe the spices. I still didn’t know.