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Subject: {ASSM} Hanna - Chapter 2
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<1st attachment, "Hanna Chapter 2.txt" begin>
Hanna - Chapter 2
Love Fulfilled
Even though she was home, the doctors insisted that Hanna remain on
oxygen. She didn't mind that, though she insisted she didn't need it. She
hated it when the therapists put her on pressure breathing, though. They
said it was necessary to get her damaged left lung functional.
Three weeks after Dick Pritchard opened fire in the high school
cafeteria, two students were dead and six others injured. A couple had been
critical but were now out of danger. The most serious was Hanna. Her damaged
lung kept filling with fluid and just wasn't learning to breathe properly.
She was in pain--more from the emergency operation that saved her life
than from the wound itself--and a lot of discomfort from the therapy sessions
she had to undergo three times a day.
I wanted to hold her in my arms and comfort her until the pain
disappeared. That wasn't possible. Her ribs couldn't stand any pressure,
where they were healing from being opened up during her operation... The
lack of that physical contact was even more of a frustration to her than to
me.
Once, when we were alone, she'd pulled her gown up to show me her
`zipper'. It was an ugly purple line running from below her left breast to
her naval and up between her breasts, with knotted black thread holding it
together.
"Can you stand making love to me, with that ugly thing on me?" she
asked.
"Golly, Hanna! I can stand making love to you as long as they don't
put a gorilla's head on you--I don't think I could kiss a mouth with fangs."
That got her giggling. Which made her hit me. Giggles hurt.
"Bastard! I love you for it, though... Come here and kiss me!"
I did, but couldn't hold her. It was a real frustration. I did pet the
breasts that were bared when she showed me her incision, though. That made
Hanna as frustrated as I was.
After another week, she was allowed to return to school. Her ribs were
heavily taped and she couldn't breathe very well. Those bones had to heal
and it wouldn't happen overnight. Our classmates welcomed her back and
showed real concern for her, the first few days. That improved her morale
greatly. My constant care and attention helped too, she said.
Every evening, I went right to her house from football practice,
usually staying for supper and helping her with homework. We couldn't sleep
together--she was still too fragile and her sleep was erratic. Hanna said she
needed to sleep when she could and not worry about a 230-pound, horny lover.
Saturday, after the football game--we won and I had a good game, though
my head wasn't in it--I stopped to see Hanna on the way home.
With a big smile, she said, "Come with me. I have something to show
you."
Curious, I followed her to her room, where she latched the door, then
dropped her robe, revealing that glorious body--now without the bindings
about the ribs and no stitches on the incision.
"That's really spectacular, baby," I said. "But aren't your ribs still
only half-healed?"
"Yeah. So you can't hug me..." She grinned. "But I can get on TOP! That
thing wasn't hurt at all."
It took a couple of seconds for what she said to register. Then it
took another couple of seconds for me to get naked. I'd have done it faster,
but she was trying to push me down on the bed while I was trying to untie my
shoes and kick them off, so I could shuck my trousers and shorts.
In no time, I was on my back on her bed, sucked up into her hot, wet
core. I frantically scrambled to grab a couple of pillows to brace my head,
so I could suck on her nipples, and fondle those incredible D-cup boobs.
I was just getting into the swing of it when Hanna arched and
screamed, her pussy vibrating against me, before she collapsed atop me.
Remembering at the last second, I didn't hug her, but rather stroked her
gently, as she caught her breath.
Some time later, she raised her head and grinned at me. "Damn, I
needed that!"
"Me, too, baby," I responded fervently.
She discovered that I was still hard, inside her. "My poor honey
didn't get off? Well, I'm sure we can do something about that."
With a little clasping of internal muscles, a little undulation of her
torso, and some gentle abrasion of my chest with her hard nipples, she soon
had me gasping, then blowing my load into her greedy womb.
It was her sixteenth birthday.
- - * * * * * - -
The Pritchards had been whining on TV about how they didn't know what
had come over their son. He was normally such a nice boy. He had been very
depressed by being dumped by his girlfriend, Hanna. It must have been
something she did to him...
Those who knew them, knew better. Mr. Pritchard had made a bundle as a
contractor with a shady reputation. He was considered completely
unscrupulous--and a skirt-chaser besides. Mrs. Pritchard was a very
attractive woman, but shared her husband's reputation: Smart, sexy, amoral,
and without class.
We buried our two classmates. I attended both funerals. At both, I
noted that prayers were offered for the speedy recovery of those who were
wounded in the shooting. When I told Hanna, she was grateful.
The Pritchards went to the first funeral, but left before the service
started. They were very obviously not welcome. When they left the church,
I'm told they discovered someone had scratched up their new Lexus with a
nail or key.
I never learned who did it, but no one ever shed a tear over the
Pritchards, either. At school, most everybody knew Hanna had only gone out
with Dick three times, including the disastrous final date. She was NOT his
`girlfriend'. And the notion that Hanna was somehow `responsible' for the
shootings was repugnant to everybody, except those who went into
uncontrollable laughter at the concept.
Pritchard was a selfish bully, who never picked a fight with anyone
who might stand up to him. Hanna was a serious mistake on his part. Every
kid in school knew that.
During the week after Hanna's birthday, the detective, Sergeant Jones,
came to interview us both. He brought along a Deputy District Attorney, Paul
Fleischer. Hanna and I went over our stories with them in detail. They also
wanted all the detail they could get about Hanna's relationship with
Dick--which she provided without holding anything back.
The Deputy DA said that he'd be the prosecutor at Dick's trial and
that they would be trying him as an adult, for aggravated murder. At that
point, they were leaning toward asking for the death penalty. He wanted to
know all he could about Hanna's involvement, in order to avoid surprises.
"Frankly, from the way the shooting went down, I think, Hanna, that
you and Gary were his primary targets. Had you been in the cafeteria when he
first came in, I think you'd be dead now... I also suspect, from the
statements the Pritchards are making, that they will try to shift the blame
to you, to get Dick off."
"That's silly!" Hanna exploded.
"Yeah. It is. And I'll use your wounds as a primary argument against
it. But who knows what a jury might do?"
"Is there anything we can do?"
"Well... Can we have your parents join us?"
Hanna opened the door and asked her folks, who were in the next room,
to come in.
"This is just something you might want to consider. I'm not offering
legal advice, or saying you should do this. OK?"
Everybody nodded.
"Do you have a lawyer of your own that you trust? A really good,
aggressive man?"
Hanna's dad said, "Not who's done any work for me. But I have a good
friend who fits. You know Roger Todd?"
"Yeah. He'd be perfect... My thought is that if Hanna, and perhaps some
of the other injured students, were to sue Dick for assault and battery--and
the parents of the two who were killed sue for wrongful death--it would kick
the props out from under him."
"But don't criminal trials take priority? It would be years before
those suits could be heard."
"True," Fleischer said. "But don't you think the press would report
that they'd been filed? Any prospective juror would know that."
Starting to see his strategy, we all smiled. I had an idea of my own,
too.
"Mr. O'Malley?" I said. "Couldn't you have Mr. Todd monitor what the
Pritchards are saying? If they get out of line, we could sue them for
slander, too."
Hanna's dad, Aiden, agreed, "I never liked Pritchard. Arrogant and
slimy. Good idea, Gary. We'll do it. Would you like to go with me to see
Todd?"
My eyes widened. "Sure. If I'd be a help."
"Oh, yes. You would."
Football season ended. We hadn't made the playoffs, but I was
confident about next year--most of our starters would be back, a year older
and bigger.
I went with Hanna's dad to meet his lawyer friend. I didn't have
anything to sue Dick over, personally, but might soon if Dick's parents
stepped over the line in what they said about me.
Hanna and I were sleeping together again and our lives were settling
down to the routine of school, homework, family...
- - + + + + + - -
Thanksgiving was two days off when Hanna surprised me.
No. She shocked me.
After we'd made love--on my bed, since we were spending the night at my
house (I needed my own computer for my homework.): "Gary? We really love
each other, right?"
"Yeah." I grinned at her. "At least, I don't know what I'd do without
you."
"I'm afraid we're going to test that."
"Huh?" was my brilliant reply.
"Gary... We're going to have a baby."
"Sure. I'm looking forward to it."
"No, dummy. We're going to have a baby in a few months!"
"What? How? I mean, you've been on the pill, and everything...?"
"How? Remember when I seduced you on my birthday?"
I grinned. "How could I forget? I think you made me come three times!"
"Yeah." She grinned, too. It was a good memory for both of us. "I did
too. The only problem was, I wasn't protected. They didn't give me my daily
pill in the hospital, for the two weeks. Apparently I was fertile as a
turtle for about a month as a result. Whatever... Anyway, my love, I'm
pregnant. So, what do you want to do?"
My mind was in shock. It wasn't racing--it was darting into corners and
colliding with walls.
I heard myself say, "What do YOU want to do?"
She smiled. "I hadn't wanted this so soon. I know the problems I've
caused. But I really don't want to abort this baby."
I gathered her in my arms. "I don't want you to abort our child
either, Hanna. And I think we've both caused any problems we face. My
preference would be to get married right now. But you have to be a year
older in this state--pregnant or not."
She kissed me, hard, at that. "Thank you... Gary, I love you so much!"
"Hanna, we have to talk to our parents--right now. Maybe they'll have
some ideas. Anyway, we owe it to them to talk to them about it."
"I was going to talk to Mom tomorrow. I needed to talk to you, first,
dummy!"
Ignoring the fist in my ribs, I just kissed her.
"How about, we get Mom to invite your folks to dinner?" I suggested.
"Then we can talk to all four of them at once and nobody will feel left
out."
That's what we did.
When dessert was served, I said, "Well, everybody, I have good news
and I have bad news. Which do you want first?"
There was a small babble, but no consensus.
"The good news is, we're going to have a baby. The bad news is,
Hanna's pregnant. We're not thrilled, but we're not torn up about it,
either. You know we want children. We would rather have waited. To answer
the `how' before you ask; it seems the hospital didn't keep her on the pill
while they had her. That created a fertile period no one told us about...
Anyhow, we'd like your thoughts about what we should do now."
My brothers had sense enough to keep their nasty little mouths shut.
So did Hanna's sister.
Mom asked, just for the record, "Have you considered abortion?"
"Yeah. We don't believe in that and would only do it if we were
convinced the baby would be severely deformed or retarded--or Hanna's health
was endangered."
"OK. I wanted that out of the way," Mom said. "What would you kids
prefer?"
"Mom," I said, as Hanna grasped my hand on the table, where no one
could miss it, "what we want more than anything is to get married and give
our child as solid a family as you've given us."
"You understand," Aiden said, "that this makes everything a lot harder
for you. Gary, you still have a year of high school, then college. Hanna has
a year more than that."
"Yes, sir. We understand that only too well. We'd have preferred to
wait. The choice has been taken from us. Yes, technically, we violated the
rules we agreed to. But it was done innocently. We just didn't realize...
Well. It's done. We'll just have this little guy a few years early. We won't
love him any less."
My dad said, "You can get married, you know. The age of consent in a
state nearby is 16. You could marry there."
I looked at Hanna. The expression of joy on her face was all the
answer I needed.
"Will you all come with us? We'd really like you there."
Both sets of parents grinned and nodded.
In the end, we drove to the neighboring state and were married in a
civil ceremony at the courthouse.
A week later, we were married in our church, with white gown and the
whole bit. That marriage certificate was from the church, not the state.
Mr. Todd, when asked, said that we could register both the marriage
certificate from the other state and the one from our church with the County
Clerk. That would make our marriage binding in our own state, even though
Hanna `wasn't old enough' to be legally married here.
We didn't care. We were together and our baby would be legitimate.
Another great result was that Hanna treated me to TWO spectacular
wedding nights!
- - + + + + + - -
The Pritchards stepped over the line. On national TV, they said that I
was a brutish lout, who had savagely tortured their poor baby when he was
clearly unable to harm anyone.
Mr. Todd immediately sued them for libel and slander.
I had developed a good rapport with the University of Oregon's
football coach. He said that, barring something really strange that he
couldn't imagine, he'd offer me a `full ride' to play football for him.
Since that's where I really wanted to go and I respected him and liked the
way he treated his players (90% graduate!), I told him that, barring
something really strange that I couldn't imagine, I'd play for him.
So it wasn't hard for Mr. Todd to get a statement from the coach
saying how much the Pritchards' remarks about me could hurt me in the
college scholarship sweepstakes. A `full ride' at an elite university could
easily amount to over a quarter million dollars. Add punitive damages...
Then, during `discovery' in Hanna's suit, Mr. Todd learned that the
Pritchards, as a tax dodge, had put the majority of their assets in Dick's
name. He immediately obtained an injunction, preventing those assets from
being transferred. And he managed to get the court to order that the assets
could not be used for lawyers' fees for Dick's defense in the criminal trial
until the civil suits against him were finished and the judgments, if any,
satisfied. (That decree was eventually appealed clear to the US Supreme
Court, which refused to hear the appeal.)
Suddenly, the Pritchards were very quiet. They refused interview
requests and did not appear at any of their usual social hangouts. They
stopped going to the country club, or eating out at the couple of good
restaurants in town. Basically, they stayed home and stayed quiet.
There was a brief flurry of publicity when Dick's defense lawyer tried
to resign from the case. He stated that his client refused to accept his
advice and demanded a long list of expensive legal and investigative
services that he had no ability to pay for. (The lawyer knew that Dick's
assets were beyond his reach and wanted him to just plead `guilty' and throw
himself on the mercy of the court. Dick had watched the O.J. Simpson trial
and knew that one could get out of most anything. The difference was, O.J.
had money--Dick didn't.) The court refused to let the lawyer withdraw, but
ruled that he was not required to `front' expenses for his client.
`Insanity' defenses were quickly ruled out. Psychiatrists who
interviewed Dick stated that he was completely sane, within the legal
definition, and had coldly planned what he did. He was governed by rage, as
a result of humiliation of an ego never tempered by shame or morality. They
further stated that Hanna and I were his primary targets--everybody else at
the school who had witnessed his humiliation was just fodder for his rage.
The DA pressed for a speedy trial and announced that the state would
seek the death penalty.
Dick's lawyer said he'd plead guilty in exchange for life.
The DA laughed. "If ever there was a case that fit our death penalty
statutes, this one is it. We will vigorously try this case and prove that
Dick Pritchard killed his schoolmates with malice aforethought. And we will
prove, in the penalty phase, that he planned the whole thing and intended to
kill two specific schoolmates, plus as many others as he could. This young
man, by his actions and attitude, has proven himself unfit to live."
After that announcement, the DA wouldn't return Dick's lawyer's calls,
referring them all to his trial deputy, Paul Fleischer. Paul told the
lawyer, "I'm all you're going to get, Bob, going over my head won't happen.
We're not bending an inch on this one. No deals. I'm going to see that
little animal fry."
With little hope of getting paid and a client he came to loathe, the
lawyer didn't spend much time on the case. Dick refused to plead guilty,
unless the death penalty was no longer an issue. All the lawyer was willing
to do was to drag things out as much as he could.
- - + + + + + - -
The first of July, our son was born. We named him Jason and thought he
was beautiful. Hanna's magnificent body handled the birth process without
flaw. Jason was a quick and relatively easy delivery.
I'll always be grateful to my dad. He had the old chicken coop in our
back yard made into a cottage for us. The structure was old, but solid.
After thorough cleaning, it was insulated and sheet-rocked. Modern flooring,
wiring, heating and plumbing were installed. It was no longer a converted
chicken coop, but a comfortable home. We lived there happily, when we
weren't away at school.
Our love life was more vigorous than ever. Having our own baby was a
tremendous turn-on for both of us. I still grin when I think of that time.
During her pregnancy, Hanna and I took up running, as something we
could do together to maintain conditioning. We ran together until her
seventh month. Then we walked at least five miles a day, before I took off
on a solo run.
When school started, we tucked into it. I was busy with football and
we both had a lot of homework. Of course, neither of us wasted any time
worrying about dates or getting laid. We got laid every night--and spent our
time on essentials. Playtime was reserved for Jason, who was fast becoming a
cheerful, mellow kid.
Our high school didn't have its own day care facility, like many big
city schools do. But it had an arrangement with a good day school a couple
blocks away. As soon as he was old enough, we enrolled Jason there. He
thrived.
So did we.
We had one `preseason' game, which we won in a blowout, and three
league games that we won handily, when the coach at Oregon called me.
"Gary, this is Coach Ullrich."
"Hi, Coach. Looks like the Ducks're having a good year.
Congratulations."
"Thanks, Gary. We'll do OK. Look. I called to see if you're still
interested in us."
"Coach, if you give me a `full ride' and treat me fair, like we
discussed when you visited, I'm yours."
"I'm saddened that you added that about treating you fair--but I
understand why you did, with the recent news about how scholarship athletes
are treated at a couple of my big competitors. I'm offering a full ride with
a guarantee that your scholarship will continue if you are injured. Of
course, if you could qualify for an academic scholarship, I'd be happy,
too."
"Done, coach. Send me the paper."
"Great, Gary. Welcome."
Hanna and I had discussed this in detail and we'd gone over it with
dad. We all agreed. As long as I was getting a full ride, I wasn't worried
about starting, or playing time. I knew Coach would be fair, but would put
the team first. I just wanted the opportunity to get a good education.
When the paper arrived, the offer was for a four-year scholarship,
including room, board, tuition, books and incidentals. Provision was made
for married housing and there was a specific clause that, if I couldn't play
because I was injured, I would not lose the scholarship.
Two weeks before `letter of intent day', I signed.
As I expected, we made the state playoffs. I had a great year. At six
feet, four inches and two hundred thirty-five pounds, I was one of the
larger high school football players. An end, I was really tough on high
school defensive backs, since I had the size to run right over most of them.
I won't bore you with my statistics. Sufficient to say that they were
impressive and I had offers from a lot of other schools, before I accepted
Coach Ullrich's.
My senior year in high school was fun. Sure I was out of the `dating
scene'. But I had a wife I adored and a son who lit up my world. Hanna and I
participated in most of the social activities and events our classmates did.
We even went to the prom. It was great. In fact, we felt we had more fun,
since we didn't have to deal with the tensions most of our friends had.
("Will she put out?" "Will he try to go all the way, or can I get by with
just giving him a blowjob?")
To make it even better, Hanna really understands football and enjoys
the game. It's not just that I'm in it, either. She's a knowledgeable fan.
That winter, we resumed running together and took up tennis as a way
to stay in shape indoors out of the rain, a break from constant running.
Come spring, Hanna insisted, and we both went out for track. "After
all, Gary, Oregon has one of the best track programs in the country. Maybe
we'll find something there, too. And I'd rather run in competition than just
pound the pavement for exercise--even though you make that fun."
I found myself running middle distances and intermediate hurdles. I
got pretty good with the shot put and discus, too.
Hanna ran middle distances too, but she found her niche in the jumping
events.
"I'd have thought I'd be too big, too heavy for high jump and pole
vault...boobs and all... But my heights are better than any other girl in the
state right now. And it's fun!" She giggled. "Aren't you glad you thought of
track, to keep in shape?"
I sputtered. The whole thing was her idea...
"Oh, chill out, Gary," she growled, whacking my arm--though a tiny grin
ruined the effect. "Of course it was your idea. You don't think I'd get us
into something like this?"
I sputtered some more and she put Jason in my lap.
"Here. Hold him a bit until he goes to sleep. OK?"
What's a guy to do? I turned on a baseball game and my son and I went
to sleep listening to Joe Morgan explaining the nuances of hitting a hard
slider.
Near the end of the school year, to my considerable surprise, I set a
new high school state record for discus and had the best distance for the
year with the shot. Needless to say, the track coach at the university came
to see us.
"I know you're committed to football, Gary. But, if I square it with
Coach Ullrich, would you consider throwing the discus, rather than spring
football?"
"Sure. I like discus. But only if Coach Ullrich agrees. He's been very
straight with me and I gave my word."
"And I expect you'll keep it, Gary," the coach replied. "Now,
Hanna...would you consider our track program too?"
Hanna grinned. "Sure, coach, if it will get me a scholarship. You need
to know that I might need a year off somewhere in there, though. We're
likely to decide to have another baby before I finish college."
He grinned back and held out his hand. "Done. If you get best in state
in either jumping event, I'll get you a full ride and child care, too."
I was chuckling. "I already got child care."
"Well, I'm sure Coach Ullrich won't mind splitting the cost... Hanna,
are you coming with Gary in the fall? You'll finish high school near the
university?"
"You bet! I'm not letting this hunk out of my sight for more than a
few hours at a time."
"Good. I'd like our jumping coach to work with you a little. The track
coach at our high school doesn't have any problem with us helping some of
his people."
We all grinned.
By graduation, I was ready for it. I'd won a couple of small
scholarships for academics and a couple of honors for football and track. Of
course, they were all announced at graduation and I had to stand and wave at
everybody when they applauded. I just wanted to get on with it. High school
had been fun and I'd even managed to learn a little. But I couldn't wait for
the new challenges of college.
- - + + + + + - -
Our primary agenda was to locate a place to live for the next four or
five years. We spent several days on and around the campus. I finally wised
up and asked Coach Ullrich for help.
He grinned and said, "Talk to Coach Jones. He's our expert."
Coach Jones was the Special Teams coach, but finding athletes a place
to live was part of his job, too. He soon arranged for us to tour the newest
married student apartments on the campus. They were very nice, but I'd been
told that they had a three-year waiting list.
"Not for a couple where you both will be on full rides," he said.
"Will a two-bedroom unit be enough, or will you need three?"
Hanna laughed. "We better have three. We expect visitors and may make
a sister for Jason before we graduate."
Before the day was done, we arranged for a three-bedroom apartment,
beginning the week before football practice began.
Then we had to contend with Dick's trial.
~ ~ * * * * * ~ ~
The Deputy DA, Paul Fleischer, met with us again, to go over our story
one more time. He discussed in detail what we could expect. He told us we
should expect the defense to try to attack us, even to smear us, personally.
We discussed what our answers would be to the expected and unexpected
questions, and how we would respond in various situations.
From the moment jury selection started, it was obvious that the
defense strategy was to constantly attack any and every target of
opportunity. The entire student body of the high school and its staff were
to be painted as vindictive enemies, trying to hurt poor Dick in any way
they could. Stated flatly, it was ludicrous. But the way the defense lawyer
worked it, it almost made a twisted kind of sense.
Insanity had been ruled out as a defense, but placing the blame
elsewhere might make that crucial difference--especially when the jurors were
voting on the sentencing phase.
In the prosecution's portion of the trial, the evidence that Dick had
committed the crimes, and the psychiatric testimony that he had planned his
assault carefully and in cold blood, all came out. There wasn't really too
much the defense could challenge, though they tried.
I was called, to tell how I'd seen what was happening and tackled Dick
as he was shooting his pistol--with another stuck in his belt.
The DA asked if I hadn't hit him too often, once he was down.
"No, Sir. He was still fighting me strongly. And he had another weapon
in his belt. I needed to make sure that he couldn't hurt anybody else. That
was all I was trying to do. And I didn't do it very well, I'm sad to say. He
was able to shoot Hanna after I tackled him."
"By `Hanna', you're referring to Hanna O'Malley Rogers, your wife?"
"Yes, sir. But we weren't married then."
The defense lawyer tried to confuse me and make me admit that I'd
abused Dick after he was down.
"Sir, maybe, if I was a trained ninja, or Green Beret or something,
I'd have been able to control him with less effort. I'm a high school kid.
This guy was killing my schoolmates. I did what I could to make him stop--and
to make sure he'd stay stopped."
"So you wanted to kill him?"
"No sir. I wanted to make sure he couldn't shoot anyone else. That's
all. I wanted him to stop."
"Three others dragged you off of him. They felt you were beating him
to a pulp."
"I felt he was still fighting to throw me off, so he could shoot some
more. I think it's a case of honest difference of opinion, based on
perspective, sir."
That comment made more of an impression on the jury than I could have
imagined.
The defense lawyer continued, "What would be your reply, if someone
said you were trying to pound Dick to a pulp long after he was unconscious?"
"I'd say that they were mistaken. I'm disciplined on the football
field, and know how to let cheap shots and trash talk roll off my back. Dick
was still trying to fight me when my friends dragged me off him. I screamed
at them to take his other pistol away before he could use it, since they
were holding me so I couldn't get to him. And remember: It was AFTER I
tackled him that Hanna was shot."
"And that's why you were beating him--he shot the girl you stole from
him?"
"Sir... That presupposes two things..."
The DA was on his feet. "Objection! The question assumes facts not in
evidence."
The judge thought about it for a moment, then said, "You have a point
counselor, but I think the answer to the question would save us all some
time." Then to me, "You may answer the question."
"Sir, as I said, that presupposes two things. First that I knew he'd
shot Hanna. I didn't know that until it was all over and I saw her slumped
over in the doorway. I was the first to see that she'd been hurt and the
first to go to her--AFTER a couple of other guys had control of Dick.
"Second, Hanna and I have been each other's best friend since we were
five or so...
"It was later that our long-standing and very close friendship ripened
into love, followed by marriage. I didn't `steal' Hanna from Dick or anybody
else. She chose me freely, as I chose her... I can say that, had Dick not
tried to rape her, she might still be dating him. Though I can't really
speak for Hanna on that. Knowing Dick, he'd have screwed it up sooner or
later."
The defense lawyer pounced on that, but couldn't make any headway with
me.
A day later, the prosecution rested and the defense had its turn.
Hanna was called as a witness and immediately designated a `hostile
witness'.
Asked if she hadn't humiliated Dick, privately and publicly, Hanna
answered the `yes' that was all she was allowed to say. But on
cross-examination, she was able to bring out that Dick had not only tried to
humiliate her by raping her--in her opinion the ultimate humiliation for a
woman--he'd attempted to compound that by spreading nasty, untrue rumors
about her at school. She'd responded using the only non-violent weapon she
had--the truth as she knew it, presented in a way that would make Dick look
like the weasel he was.
Then the defense questioned whether Jason might not really be Dick's
son.
After the judge let her answer the question, over vehement prosecution
objections, Hanna said, in a deadly calm voice between gritted teeth, "If I
thought there was even the slightest possibility that my son shared
Pritchard's genes, I'd have aborted him as soon as I knew I was pregnant!
The very idea makes me nauseous! If it will resolve any issues, my son and I
will undergo DNA testing. And I think my husband would, too. For the record,
my son was conceived on my sixteenth birthday--by my husband. Pritchard was
in jail at the time--which I think can be verified."
It took two more days, but Dick's goose was cooked. The jury returned
a verdict of `guilty' on all the felony counts.
The sentencing phase was more interesting, in a strange way. The
defense tried to show that, when he murdered and injured his schoolmates,
Dick was reacting the only way he could to Hanna's heartless humiliation.
The prosecution countered with the psychiatric reports and pounded on
the facts that Dick had instigated everything and that, were his arguments
to prevail, no one would be safe from the animals in society.
The jury agreed.
The sentence was `death'. Three times.
The judge directed that Dick be transported to the state prison, there
to be executed by lethal injection. The sentence would be carried out within
sixty days of the mandatory review by the state supreme court.
When the sentence was announced, Dick's parents looked daggers at
Hanna and me. It was like they were blaming us, personally, for Dick's
predicament.
Hanna and I were just glad it was over. We'd only been in court when
we had to testify and when the sentence was announced. (The jury only spent
a half-hour deliberating the sentence. They apparently had their minds made
up long before.)
- - + + + + + - -
We got ready to move to our new apartment and tried to stay in shape.
I was not looking forward to the two-a-days I'd be facing when football
practice started.
I told Coach Ullrich I wouldn't feel put upon if he `red-shirted' me
for a season. If I graduated with Hanna, that was OK.
With a warm smile, he said, "You know, I've been coaching for thirty
years. This is the first time I've had a player not complain bitterly when I
red-shirted him. Thanks, Gary. Let's see how practice goes. I may need you
right away. If not, I'll hold you out this year. We'll see, OK?"
Since it was my idea, I could only agree.
I was red-shirted as a freshman. The university's team was mostly
sophomores and juniors and wasn't expected to make it to any bowl games that
year. Saving me for a year, when the entire team would be better, made
sense.
<1st attachment end>
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