Always the Last to Know
The week my attorney, Lane, and I spent in court with Dildo and his attorney was like no other time in my life. I cannot recall another time when I experienced so many extremes: from worn down to triumphant; from anxious to peaceful; from obfuscation to clarity; from overwrought to calculating; from chaos to order. The week started with Dildo making a last minute offer to settle, that, apart from having brain damage or being water-boarded, I could not imagine why I would ever accept. It ended with the judge granting every one of my requests, denying every one of his, and handing Dildo’s bass to him on a platter.
A few minutes observing Linda, his lawyer, in action were all I needed to see that Dildo had hired a woman who, like the other women close to him, was just another version of his mother. That is - she was short and full; not the brightest bulb in the tanning bed; over solicitous; lacked good judgment, situational awareness, and most importantly, control over Dildo. This was turning out to be quite a lineup. We had an Amazon (Lane), a Hobbit (Linda), a Dildo (Dildo), a Georgia Peach (the Judge) and that character in The Witches of Eastwick who heaves about 1001 cherry pits all over the living room so her husband clubs her like a baby seal with a fireplace poker to put her out of his misery (me).
Dildo’s offer being declined, it was time to take this matter to the bench. The Judge asked us what relief we were seeking.
I said I wanted the following:
that after a very public and painful castration with a dull, rusty saw, Dildo be ordered to go the edge of the earth and balance on one toe (to myself).
He said he wanted the following:
1. that he and I share the house by rotating in and out of it weekly (Never mind that I would have to live like Bobo the Hobo every other week to come “home” to find all my food eaten, my clothes worn, and all the sheets stained);
2. that he be ordered to pay $700 per month in child support (Never mind this was approximately 1/30 of his salary);
3. that he have equal custody of the children (Never mind he traveled fours days a week and was home only to sleep the other three); and
4. that a budget be imposed wherein he have unrestricted access to our money and I have no access (Never mind he spent his money on things like Hummer limos for his twelve year-old rather than pay taxes).
We sat down at our respective tables ready to start. Our theory of the case was that Dildo was a fucknut who was reckless and showed poor judgment in all aspects of his life. I knew what I needed to do to win. Simply, I needed to do exactly what Lane told me to do. I needed to answer the questions honestly without elaboration. I needed to sit quietly without making faces or commenting. And, I needed to pay attention and help her with information. The problem was, that in my possessed-by-the-devil-played-by-Jack Nicholson-state, nothing was simple.
I testified first. I was a little nervous and acted a little part retarded. There were a few times Lane and I exchanged “Why would you say that?” and “I know it was stupid, but I couldn’t help myself!” looks across the courtroom. I eventually settled in and told my story.
It was the Hobbit’s chance to ask me questions. The first question out of the shoot was a zinger.
Q. Did you ever tell my client that you and your attorney were going to crush him like the cockroach he is?
“Oh fuuuuuck! I’m fucked now! Shit. Shit. Shit! What do I say?”
A. Y — Yes. I did tell him that.
A minute went by with no follow up. I gradually opened my eyes one at a time, relaxed my face, and took a breath. The Hobbit and Dildo weren’t even conferring. “What is going on with these two? It would be an out of the park home run with this judge to have me admit to what I said in the parking lot that day…Why doesn’t he have a smug look on his face? Not even a fuck you look on his face…Did he forget? How could he forget my cascade of curse words? What is the deal? Maybe it’s a trick!”
And just like sex with Dildo, it ended right when it became interesting. That was it. That was her one, big question for me. She proceeded to a series of questions that mattered not, including the medications I was taking. This would have been another throw away question had I just answered it and stopped there.
Q. What medications have you taken in the past twelve months?
A. The birth control pill.
The courtroom was quiet while the Hobbit looked over her list of questions. I felt my stomach gurgle. I could hear it churning. It was those damn cherry pits. That meant only one thing: an uncontrollable urge to purge. Out it came in a quick, urgent voice.
A. And Wellbutrin. My doctor gave it to me to increase my sex drive.
The Hobbit looked up at me curiously. I couldn’t stop myself.
A.– I’m not taking it any more. It wasn’t my libido that’s the problem. Ira told people we had lots of great sex.
I felt a collective inhale and all eyes upon me. Even the Georgia Peach, with her perfect former Miss Teen something or other skin and hair, looked up over the top of her computer. I politely wiped the cherry juice from the corners of my mouth, thinking I must be done making an ass of myself. The Georgia Peach stared at me, working against my digestion. I couldn’t hold those pits in any longer.
A. I - I - I - It’s not a miracle drug! Okay?!
I sunk into myself and avoided eye contact. The kindly judge, in her buttery smooth accent, asked if I needed to take a break. I sucked the pulp from my teeth and shook her off. I was certain I was all better. Lane interceded and took me aside.
“I can’t believe you made that cockroach comment. After all the admonitions I have given you about what you say to him!”
“Well I can’t believe she didn’t ask me what else I said to him that day!”
“What do mean? It couldn’t more vulgar than the cockroach comment!”
“Uhm.”
“And what was all that about the Wellbutrin? Why would you ever say such a thing? To this judge?”
“I didn’t mean to say it. I was nervous. I just came out. I was trying to be honest in my answer. And then I felt like I had to explain myself. And then I felt like I had to defend myself. It just happened.” Both Lane and her assistant were snarling. “It was a desperate time in my life. I was willing to take any drug that might make him better in bed or at least let me believe he was better in bed. Look what I was working with! Can you blame me?!”
Our mouths dropped slightly and our eyes widened at the sound of one of the female court staff. I slowly looked over my shoulder. The judge’s assistant was shaking her head, “Uh uhm”.
The Hobbit continued her obtuse lines of questioning. It was all afternoon before she got around to her theory of the case. She handed me some photos of my desk at home, recent photos. Photos I had not taken. The pictures showed my computer with two stacks of paper on one side and a stack of cards, envelopes, magazines, etc. on the other side. I felt a surge of adrenaline. I knew where she was going with this. These pictures were intended to show how disorganized I was.
Q. What do you recognize this to be?
“Be honest. Don’t dodge the question.”
A. This is my computer desk at home. My children and I call it The Black Hole because it proves Einstein’s theory of relativity. It sucks you and your stuff in — and time slows down when you’re around it.
Q. And there are always stacks of paper like this laying around, aren’t there?
A. Yes. There are. They are a part of my Dynamic Stack Management System.
I could feel Lane’s eyes burning holes through me as the court reporter chuckled her request to repeat my answer. While the Hobbit was thumbing through her pictures, I had a chance to examine the photo closer. “This is stupid. Three neatly stacked piles does not a mess make. These photos must have been taken after one of my cleaning fits. Hardly shows gross disorganization…Hum. When were these taken? Mmm. What an asshole…I’m gonna do it.” I looked over at Lane trying to assure her that I had exorcised Jack Nicholson.
A. But there are not always greeting cards laying around like that. I believe these are my son’s birthday cards and my mail that my friend was putting by the computer when we were out of town. We were out of town over his birthday. See the cards aren’t opened yet.
Q. Your honor. Objection. Nonresponsive.
“No way. Honey. Sit your Hobbity-self down. I’m not finished.”
A. I guess Ira went into the house and took these pictures while we were out of town. I don’t know how he got in, though, because he doesn’t have a key.
I have been in the Hobbit’s predicament - looking like an idiot during trial because my client had not been entirely forthcoming. It sucks! I always retreat from that line of questioning and move on until the next recess when I can throttle my client. I don’t like unwittingly stepping into a steaming pile of shit in good shoes and I really don’t like unwittingly becoming entangled in a crime. The best thing for the Hobbit and her client would have been to quickly and quietly discharge that strategy and map out a less fraughtful course.
I expected the following day Dildo to have jettisoned the “Liz was a bad housekeeper, disorganized, and therefore the cause of all our married strife” theory - because it was stupid. It was stupid for several reasons. First, there is not a statute or case out there that would grant him the legal relief he sought from evidence of a dirty car, lost keys, and stacks of paper. Second, if you are going to bash your wife for being a slob, you had better know fo sho that the lady with the gavel in her hand who just got a divorce herself, didn’t catch a bunch of shit from her ex about hair in the sink and dry cleaning that needed to be picked up. Third, if your whole case is based upon your wife being a slob, you had better paint an uuuugly picture. Like, you had to thread your way through stacks and stacks of old National Geographics with her dirty undies stuck to your feet to get to a kitchen that was piled high with fly-inviting dirty dishes and the only food in the frig was best suited for use as visual aids in a lecture on the history of penicillin. Fourth, Dildo’s method of securing evidence to prove his theory was sleazy, if not illegal.
Dildo failed to meet my expectations. Like Napoleon at Waterloo, Dildo’s arrogance drove him down a path that led to his defeat. His chosen path was contrary to common sense, experience, motivation, self-preservation, circumstances, and the facts. It was like he got a vitamin B12 shot in the bad judgment/no self awareness part of his bass - and his lawyer administered it. In his efforts to show how disastrous I was, he showed the judge just what an exaggerating, lying, blame-storming, control freak he is.
It was during his testimony that I saw him, for the first time since we met, as an observer. This is what I saw. He sat down and crossed his legs at the knees. This revealed one of his thirty pairs of flashy patterned socks that perfectly tied together his expensive shoes with his expensive pants. He rested his left hand on his knee and draped his right hand over it. His left jacket sleeve was pulled up enough to display his cuff link and watch. He always took great pains to coordinate the two pieces of jewelry. He couldn’t sit still for very long. He unconsciously swung his crossed leg or fanned his fingers or drank from his water bottle. Watching him drink from his water bottle was like watching a train wreck. I was horrified, but couldn’t tear my eyes away. He opted out of the more conventional method of resting the opening of the bottle between the lower and upper lips and letting gravity do its thing. He chose a more labor intensive, multi-step method of extracting water from the bottle. He formed an O shape with his mouth, placed the opening of the bottle into his mouth, closed his mouth around the opening, tilted his head, sucked in using his cheek muscles, swished the water through his teeth, and then swallowed. I was shaken out of my stupor by the sound of Lane’s assistant chortling. She was reading a note from Lane that read, “He’s SO gay!” He finished that bottle just in time for Lane’s cross-examination.
It was like shooting fish in a barrel for Lane. Her job was to pull the trigger. My job was to provide the bullets. His lies were so ridiculously easy to refute. When he testified that I was solely responsible for a negative checking account balance by waving a stack of checks stamped “NSF”, we showed that, of the hundred or so NSF checks, only one had my signature - and I wrote that one not knowing he had taken all the money out of our account. When he testified that I ran up the costs of construction on the house causing us to go over budget, we showed that his family’s construction company built our house and that he made the last minute change orders to accommodate his girlfriend’s wishes.
Exposing a liar is good. Exposing an asshole is better. There were so many examples of his assholeness that the selection of which ones to use became onerous. I had no idea one person could manifest assholeness in so many distinct ways. There were times when he was a stupid asshole; a deliberate asshole; a negligent asshole; an untrustworthy asshole; a deviant asshole; a lying asshole; a vile asshole; and a sneaky asshole. Wow! We did our level best to provide an example of his assholeness in each of its various forms. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes he did the work for us.
I passed Lane some credit card statements that showed he was a deliberate/stupid asshole.
Q. What is Friend Finder?
A. I don’ t know.
Q. Isn’t it a dating service?
A. I don’t know. I’ve never used Friend Finder. I have absolutely no recollection of using Friend Finder.
Q. So if there are thousands of dollars in charges on your American Express for Friend Finder, you would not know what those were?
A. That’s right. We’d have to contact American Express and say there were unauthorized charges.
Q. Please take a look at these statements. Do you see that all of them reflect multiple charges to Friend Finder?
A. I see that.
Q. So does that refresh your recollection about charges you incurred and services you enlisted through Friend Finder?
A. Yes. But, I thought you were asking about my Master Card.
Q. And Friend Finder is an on-line service to find sexual partners, isn’t it?
A. It - - it’s all kinds of things. It’s not just sexual. But yes, it includes sex.
Lane was loving it. She didn’t even get irritated when I passed her a follow up note that read, “Ask him, ‘So did you find Friend Finder friendly?’”
I reminded Lane about his extra cell phone - perfect for showing a sneaky asshole. We didn’t have any written confirmation of its existence, but he didn’t know that. She played it perfectly, emphasizing the first name of the company each time she said it and backing off when she got what she needed out of him.
Q. Did you get a separate cell phone account to use for your communications with Ms. Mendoza?
A. No.
Q. You never got a Virgin Mobile cell phone?
A. No.
Q. You do not remember setting up a Virgin Mobile cell phone account in another name?
A. I have never had a Virgin Mobile phone.
Q. So if I showed you account details from Virgin Mobile for customer John Thomas with your home address and phone number, you would not know what that was?
A. Correct.
I leaned over and whispered, “Ask him if he was being ironic or wishful.” She almost smiled, almost.
Lane wanted to make sure the Georgia Peach was paying attention, at least between her e-mails about judges’ meetings and bar luncheons, when she showed that Dildo was a vile/deviant/negligent/stupid asshole.
Q. Now, in addition to pornographic e-mails that were on the home computer - - you’ve forwarded to the home computer from your firm’s computer, you have pornographic videos on there, too?
A. Yes.
Q. And did you purchase those videos and those pictures?
A. No.
Q. How did you acquire them?
A. People send them to me.
Q. Send them to your firm computer through your firm e-mail address?
A. Yes.
Q. And then you forwarded them to the home computer that the children have access to?
A. Yes. But they don’t check my e-mail.
Q. Aren’t the children three mouse clicks away from opening a saved e-mail?
A. I saved them to my folder on the hard drive.
Q. How many mouse clicks away are the children from opening a folder on the hard drive?
A. I don’t know.
Q. How much is an annual membership to Real Triple X Fantasies.com?
A. I don’t know?
Q. How much is an annual membership to Uncensored Hardcore.com?
A. I don’t know.
Q. What about Adult Chamber.com?
A. I don’t know what that is.
I found myself humming Lookin’ for Love in All the Wrong Places.
He is an irresponsible asshole with his children and the judge needed to be clear on that point.
Q. Now, you recently took your kids and some other kids - - and another parent to toilet paper houses, didn’t you?
A. Yes.
Q And how many houses did you all paper?
A. I think it was two.
Q. In addition to toilet papering the houses, you used shaving cream and eggs and Cheese Whiz and Oreos - - and plastic wrap - - on the houses and their cars?
A. I didn’t do that. I just drove.
Q. You just drove a car full of twelve year-olds to commit crimes?
A. I didn’t know what they were doing. It was the other mother that was with us who brought all that stuff.
I was getting huffy. Jack was back. I elbowed Lane. “That’s bullshit. He loves Cheese Whiz!” She didn’t even acknowledge me.
Q. I believe one of the girls got injured that night while running away from a house. Isn’t that correct?
A. I think so. Yes.
Q. Your daughter’s friends are not allowed to spend the night with her when she is with you. Are they?
A. Not all of them.
Lane leaned in. “Stop sighing and rolling your eyes. They are watching you.”
“He’s totally lying! You need to show the judge what an untrustworthy, lying asshole he is! Here. Use these e-mails.” Lane glowered at me. I deserved it. ”Alright. I’ll control myself.”
Q. I want to direct your attention to the e-mails you sent Ms. Darcy over the past few months where you say that she and the children should stay in the house and that it would always be their home and that you will be living with Porcine for as long as it takes. There are several correct?
A. There are.
Q. And when you wrote these e-mails, did you mean what you said?
A. Yes. I guess.
Q. And don’t you believe than that your wife and your children had a right to rely on the commitment you were making?
A. Definitely the kids did. I don’t know that Liz had any reason to rely on what I was saying.
Q. Why not?
A. We are getting a divorce.
Lane had done a fine job of establishing Dildo was a fucknut asshole. She was driving home the point by establishing the number of times he had had unprotected, extramarital sex over the years, setting up my future as a permanent spokesperson for the CDC’s Are You Sure He’s Monogamous? campaign.
Q. Now, when did you first begin a sexual relation with someone other than Ms. Darcy during your marriage to her?
He smirked and swished his index finger.
A. I hate to peddle a Bill Clinton moment here, but what do you mean sexual relation?
“Bill Clinton? You asshole. You’re no Bill Clinton. You may want to be Bill Clinton, but you have a long way to go before you’re Bill Clinton.” I was referring, of course, to Gennifer Flowers’ Penthouse interview where she said Bill Clinton “ate pussy like a champ”. I snorted my disgust. Lane shot me a look and continued.
Q. Let’s see, I’m talking about intercourse, fellatio, cunnilingus, the touching of any oral orifice to a genitalia, kissing, the touching of any genitalia.
A. I believe it was 2001.
Q Okay. And with whom did you have that relationship?
A. Lisa Lineger.
Q. And who is Ms. Lineger?
A. She is someone that worked for one of my clients in Los Angeles.
Q. And you met her on one of your business-related trips to Los Angeles?
A. Yes.
Q. And how long did your sexual relationship with Ms. Lineger last?
He shrugged his shoulders and bobbled his head, telegraphing the insignificance of the event.
A. It lasted, I don’t know, about 15 seconds.
Lane turned to me, completely stunned. That made one of us. I nodded and crossed my arms. “That’s my man.”
And somebody else could have him, anybody else. The judge seemed to think everybody else had.
THE COURT: I don’t want Respondent spending any money on anyone other than his immediate family and not for anything other than what is necessary. So I am going to enjoin him from that. I really think it is confusing for the children and inappropriate for Respondent to bring the people he dates around the children. So I am going to order that you not have the children in the presence of anyone you date. You got that? Especially Dotti Mendoza.
COUNSEL: Your honor. Does the order have to specifically name Ms. Mendoza or can it have an exhaustive list — something like girlfriend, paramour, significant other, partner, lover, one-nightstand, or date?
THE COURT: If you want to do it that way — that’s fine. But what about boyfriend? Counsel, I think you need to include the term boyfriend in the order.
