This is the Final (One Extraordinary Time, Chapter 14) · 12:34am Jun 26th, 2019
It's the last chapter, folks! Are you excited? Because I'm very excited.
Previously, on One Extraordinary Time:
Someone finally caught on to Freddy's misbegotten millions.
And now:
We lead in with U.S. Attorney Randolph Coletti. This man never actually existed, as far as I can tell; he certainly wasn't Attorney in any of the four districts of New York.
Randolph Coletti came to the microphones in front of the Federal Court house in New York and said, “The grand jury has just come back with an eleven-count indictment against Mr. Freddy Will.” Flash bulbs went off in the crowd. “The core of this indictment involves the theft of over $800 million, the largest heist of a federally insured bank in our nation’s history. We are representing the taxpayers, who insist that our laws are enforced.”
A reporter asks him how much time Freddy will serve if convicted. Coletti replies with about 30 years.
Freddy watched the news conference and was horrified to hear he was facing so much time in jail. Over the last few days, he had grown optimistic that he might be able to avoid jail altogether, or maybe spend a year at most in one of those minimum-security jails. He heard they weren’t so harsh. In fact, some of them were nicknamed Club Fed. Thirty years meant he would be spending the prime of his life in jail. He wouldn’t get out until he was almost sixty.
I don't know why you'd be optimistic, given that jail time was something you discussed with your lawyer in the last chapter, but I can hardly blame you for being delusional, Freddy.
After this, Freddy's lawyer holds a press conference of his own.
A reporter asked, “How do you intend to plea?”
“Freddy Will is not guilty of any crimes. I intend to mount a vigorous defense to prove his innocence,” Dugan said.
He's... he's clearly not innocent, so I don't know why you would take this line of defense. And for once, Freddy agrees with me on something:
Freddy watched the news conference and grew more upset by the minute. He wanted his attorney to defend him, not lie for him.
Freddy called Dugan’s office; his secretary treated him like a rock star. When he got Dugan on the line, he pulled no punches. “Philip, I will not tolerate you or any other attorney at your firm lying on my behalf. Why did you say I was innocent on nationwide television? In the future, when you speak on my behalf, it had better be the truth.”
Frank and Julia are also watching these conferences. As are Freddy's friends.
Both of them asked Doug, the lawyer in the group, for his opinion on the best possible outcome for Freddy.
Doug said, “That he’s found not guilty,” with a wry smile. Then he continued, “It’s hard for his attorney to plead not guilty after he virtually confessed to the Gazette with every media outlet in the world covering the story. He’s probably going to plea-bargain and argue the guidelines are really meant for someone stealing the money.”
“Freddy’s problem, from what I’ve read, is that it doesn’t matter if the bank put the money in his account by error or if he hacked into the bank’s computers,” Harris said.
“I know that, but he could say to the prosecutor, ‘Look, you know he didn’t take a dime for himself. This is an unprecedented case. The sentencing guidelines shouldn’t apply to my client,’“ Doug said.
“Will the DA buy it?” Babe asked.
“Probably not, but it will give him something to think about and it make it easier to get him to agree to a much lower sentence.”
Back to Freddy.
Freddy did the math and felt like he was hit by a two-by-four. He was still looking at doing over twenty-five years. Dugan reminded him that was only if they went to trial and lost. By plea-bargaining, he assured Freddy he would be able to knock his prison time down.
Hearing this did little to console him. As the gravity of the trouble he was facing sank in, Freddy was overtaken by a massive headache. As a kid, he couldn’t handle when his dad put him in a Riker’s Island jail cell for twenty-five minutes; how would he ever survive twenty-five years in jail? He gave deep thought to his future and what he faced. Freddy thought about Monica, the best thing to come into his life. She was amazing, smart, talented, gifted, loving, and beautiful. Freddy felt it wouldn’t be fair to make her go through all this with him. She might be over fifty before he was out of jail. That was an awful long time to make her wait. It would cause her so much stress during the prime of her life. He was going to cut her loose. It would be the hardest thing he’d ever done, but, long-term, it was the right thing to do.
Oh no! Not our favourite couple! They've been together so long!
Finally, at 4:50, he placed the call. She looked at her caller ID, and excitedly answered. “Freddy, I know you have been under a lot of stress, but I am going to see to it that you enjoy the weekend. I have a surprise for you.”
Hearing those words and knowing how excited she was to see him made Freddy cringe. He knew this was going to be very hard to do. He took a deep breath and began to ramble. Monica wasn’t sure exactly what he was saying. He told her for the first time how much he loved her. Freddy’s voice began to crack and then he paused, trying to gain his composure.
"He told her for the first time how much he loved her."
...
So I guess all those other times didn't count, then.
You ever watch any of those old soap operas? The ones that would have organ music in them whenever someone said something dramatic?
He said, “I learned today that I am probably going to spend the next twenty to thirty years in jail. It wouldn’t be fair to make you wait that long for me. Monica, I’ve got to let you go."
Monica felt the blood drain from her body.
You should probably get that looked at.
She couldn’t believe it and prayed he didn’t mean it.
Monica said desperately, “Please, let me stay in your life. I love you so much. I don’t care how long you spend in jail. I’ll visit you often and wait till you’re out. But I’m sure you won’t have to spend nearly as much time in jail as you think. I’ve seen Philip and his team working all afternoon, preparing your defense. The whole firm is talking about it. Believe me, your case is the number one priority around here. They will see to it that you spend little or no time in jail.”
Their marathon conversation went on for another two hours, with both of them crying, Monica was continuously in tears. Freddy kept apologizing; he was convinced he would be in prison for a long time. He told her it may be painful now but she would get over him and move on with her life.
Otherwise it would be agonizing for them, the only time they would see each other would be through thick glass or in crowded room with guards all around. Freddy was so drained he collapsed onto his bed. He felt his world crashing down on him. It killed him to know he was causing Monica so much pain. Then he began to think of the anguish his mom and dad were going through.
He could hardly beat it
Jesus Freddy, time and place! Sheesh! We're trying to have an emotional moment over here!
Freddy's lawyer calls him up to tell him that his arraignment will be on Monday. They'll be going in through a side door, so thankfully we don't have to sit through Mr. Kaplan trying to portray a walk of shame up the courthouse steps.
Next day.
It was nearly noon. Natascia begged Monica to get out of bed. “Please, my beautiful child, come out of bed. I made you a great breakfast.”
She still couldn’t get her out of bed. Monica had never been in love before, and now her heart was broken. Even though she’d only been with Freddy less than two months, she couldn’t imagine life without him. “Don’t worry, my baby, Freddy will call you. He’s just going through a very scary period. Believe me, my child, when I tell you he’s still crazy for you. Now please, come out of your bedroom and eat,” Natascia pleaded. She smiled when Monica finally walked out of her room and gave her mom a hug.
So we get confirmation that Monica has never been in a relationship before, despite having gone through high school and college, which... explains a lot, really. Inexperience makes you prime prey for brain worms.
This would be a prime moment to insinuate that Mr. Kaplan has also never been in a committed relationship before, but frankly I feel like that would be too convenient to be true.
Freddy, meanwhile, has been fielding calls from reporters all day, and who should happen to be one of them if not Henry? Freddy, as you might expect, takes his call well.
“You’re going to be our headline on Monday. We would like you to comment on your upcoming court appearance?” Henry said.
“Henry, I have nothing to say to you!” Freddy said.
“I’m sorry about last week’s headline. But once we had all the facts, our paper became a staunch supporter. We just ran an editorial denouncing the U.S. attorney for handing down the indictment and feel the severity of the punishment you face is totally out of line. In fact, my Friday article mentions that 90 percent of the public agrees with us. In my story, I pointed out that if you serve thirty years you’d spend twice as much time in prison as the average murderer, three times more than someone convicted of armed robbery, and four times longer that a rapist,” Henry said.
Actually, according to statistics compiled by the Federal Justice Statistics Program, the average time spent in prison for all offenders in 2000 were 63.6 months, 59.5 months, and 46.1 months for murder, robbery, and sexual assault, respectively. Which means that Freddy's 30 years is actually closer to six times the average for murder and robbery, and 3.8 times that for rape.
Funny how that happens. Incidentally, I spent a solid half-hour tracking down those statistics, so you'd better be impressed.
Next day. The arraignment is tomorrow.
Sunday November 18th
Frank and Julia read the Sunday Times. The lead article was the U.S. had stepped up efforts along the Afghan-Pakistan border to try to prevent Osama bin Laden from fleeing the country. The U.S. military was dropping leaflets all along the border in Afghanistan offering a twenty-five million dollar reward for information leading to his capture. When asked by reporters how close they were towards capturing him, Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld was cautious.
“As enemy leaders become fewer and fewer that does not necessarily mean that the task will become easier. People can hide in caves for long periods, and this will take time.”
Ah, Rumsfield. Commit any good human rights violations recently?
Freddy woke up at 3:00 a.m. in a cold sweat from another nightmare. His head pounded and his heart raced. He desperately tried to fall back asleep so he could be alert later in court. He looked at his clock at 3:10 a.m., then at 3:35, 3:58, and 4:10. He walked around his room with a lot of nervous energy. He decided to relax with a shower. At 4:50, he tried to get a couple hours of sleep. It was no use.
Feel you there, buddy. I haven't been getting much sleep these last couple of weeks, either.
Harry shows up and offers to drive Freddy and Dugan to the courthouse.
Philip smiled and shook Harry’s hand. Harry then looked at Freddy and said, “Man, you look all beat up. Hey, don’t worry Freddy. I know you’re going to kick butt in that courtroom. Besides, if you wind up having to do some time, I know some boys downtown who will help bust you out.”
They arrive, and Freddy and Dugan are shown to their courtroom.
About forty minutes later, a clerk started hitting a gavel left on a table and said, “All rise. The honorable Judge William G. Brenley presiding.” You could hear a pin drop in the courtroom. Judge Brenley was now serving his twenty-third year on the bench. President Carter appointed him in 1978. He was distinguished-looking, with white and silver hair, and only nine days shy of his sixty-second birthday. The clerk announced the first case. “Case number 4826973, the United States versus Joseph Weber.”
Neither of these are real people, by the way. Just wanted to get that out of the way.
Mr. Weber has apparently defrauded the U.S. Dept. of Housing and Development for over $1 million dollars. Hell of a coincidence, that; maybe he and Freddy can bond over it in prison.
Judge Brenley sets bond at $25,00, sets his court date (December 12th), tells him he's not allowed to leave the state and has to wear an ankle bracelet, etc. etc. All of this was covered earlier in the chapter, so I don't know why this section is even here.
Two more cases follow (Social Security fraud and armed robbery/manslaughter), and then it's Freddy's turn.
If nothing else, this story at least manages to get across some of the misery of having to wait for your turn in court.
Finally, the clerk read, “Case number 4826976, the United States versus Frederick Will.”
At that moment, Freddy and Philip walked up to the front row. Suddenly, the press sprang into action. They showed no interest in the other cases; this was the one they came to see. They were busy with their pens and pencils, and artists drew renderings of how Freddy looked in the courtroom. All of a sudden, there was a hush in the courtroom as the U.S. attorney himself, Mr. Randolph Coletti, entered. Freddy noticed Henry as he scanned the crowd of press.
Judge Brenley looked at Dugan and asked, “Are you counsel for Mr. Will?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Philip Dugan from the law firm of Felt, Shaw, and Holt,” he replied.
The judge then looked at Coletti and asked, “What is the government’s principal charge against Mr. Will?”
“Your Honor, Mr. Will is charged with defrauding a federally insured bank, causing the loss of over $824 million,” Coletti responded.
There was a buzz in the courtroom when that sum was read out. Freddy wished he were invisible.
Judge Brenley then asked, “Mr. Dugan would your client like to hear a reading of the indictments?”
“No, Your Honor,” Dugan said.
“Very well. How does your client wish to plead?” the judge asked.
“Not guilty, Your Honor,” Dugan said.
“Would the government like to be heard on the issue of bail?”
Coletti shocked everyone in the courtroom by saying, “The government takes no position in the issue of bail.”
Judge Brenley raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t believe that the government wasn’t seeking bail when such an enormous amount of money was defrauded.
The court date is set for 1 P.M. December 1st. Bang goes the gavel. Freddy goes across the street to get processed.
As a kid, his dad took him to the police precinct, where he watched handcuffed criminals come in. He would see them get fingerprinted and have their mug shots taken. Frank Will always said to his son,
“You’re looking at the scum of the earth.”
Great parenting, Frank. Real bang-up job. Get this man a commemorative coffee mug.
I had a cop do this to me once, actually. I was... thirteen, I want to say, and I was at the city precinct, alone, for reasons that won't be elaborated on but were very, very minor. Guy brought me over to a holding cell and told me to look in through the window. There was a kid in there, not much older than me, lying on a cot with his back to us. Cop put his hand on my shoulder and told me that the kid had just stabbed one of his teachers eight times with a pair of scissors, and that if he ever saw me again he'd put me in there, too.
I think he was trying to scare me straight. All he succeeded in doing was making me dislike police officers.
When they left the federal building, they spotted a wall of reporters. Fortunately, a friendly cab was waiting for him. Dugan said, “Isn’t that the same guy who picked us up this morning?”
“It sure is. Harry, what are you doing here?” Freddy said.
“Say, Freddy, I may come down here more often. You lawyers are pretty good tippers and it’s nonstop action here,” Harry said with a smile.
Harry turned down the radio and said, “Cheer up, Freddy. You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Don’t worry; things have a way of working out. Say, I’m sure Monica will come by this week and get your spirits up. I know she’ll have a way to melt your stress.”
After a few seconds, Freddy said, “No, that won’t be happening. Unfortunately, we broke up.”
“Broke up? How could that be? You guys were crazy about each other,” Harry said, completely shocked. Freddy looked pained when Harry said that.
Me too, but for different reasons entirely.
“You know what I think? You’re not thinking right. That woman loves you; don’t throw that away. You have to understand, you’re better off with her on your team. Fighting this by yourself just makes it that much harder,” Harry said.
At least someone in this story is talking sense. Must have been the brain injury. It turned him smart in a world of dense morons.
Next day. The newspapers are headlined with the collapse of the Taliban. I don't know why specifically this is in the headlines on November 20th when the Taliban didn't give up Kandahar until December, but whatever. It's only historical fiction.
We start off with Norm, handing a copy of the Gazette to Frank.
“Say Frank, look at this cartoon of the U.S. attorney in the Gazette.”
Frank picked up the paper and put on his glasses. It had Coletti wearing a silly cap looking goofy, raising his hands in the air saying, “We must severely punish Mr. Will, otherwise criminals may start giving money away rather than stealing it for themselves.
The government cannot allow this.”
He managed a small smile. For Frank this has caused him internally a huge conflict.
Mr. Kaplan spends the next two (rather lengthy) paragraphs describing the specifics of Franks' inner conflict.
The one you would be able to grasp immediately just based on his one character trait.
Show, Don't Tell may be reductionist advice, but there's a reason we start people off with it before we explain its issues, folks.
Cut to Monica, who by the narrator's own admission hasn't left her mother's apartment for four days now. Her mother isn't thrilled.
Finally, Natascia had enough. Between fighting cancer, Papa, and her daughter, she had become very tough. She wasn’t going to let Monica ruin her life just because of a lost boyfriend.
She walked into Monica’s room and said, “You’re coming out of your room right now and tomorrow morning you will be on the train to work if I have to grab you and pick you up myself. I can tell you this: Papa is looking down from Heaven and you are making him very sad with all this self-pity.”
Damn. Frank, start taking notes, this woman knows what she's doing.
Monica just looked at her mom. Natascia continued, “If Papa was here, he would tell you he worked hard his whole life so yours would be better. Now you’re a caring, bright, beautiful attorney. Don’t throw that away. Papa and I will never stop loving you.” Tears rolled down Monica cheeks as Natascia walked over and hugged her.
Cut back to Freddy, who cannot sleep, so he goes jogging at three in the morning.
I'd make fun of this, but I've been there, too.
Next day. Freddy and Dugan head to Coletti's office to begin their plea bargain.
They walked into Coletti’s plush office. A seal of the Justice Department hung on the wall over his desk, next to a picture of President Bush. On one side of his desk was a large American flag. On the other was a case of bottled water.
He said, “Gentlemen, please sit down. Allow me to introduce Tina Crim. She is the head of our white-collar crime unit and will be assisting me on your case.” She walked over and shook hands with Freddy and Dugan. They exchanged light conversation. Freddy noticed Ms. Crim was attractive and sharply dressed. She looked to him like one tough bitch.
What follows is a bunch of legal discussion and repetitions of things we already know and blah blah blah. I just checked; we still have 8% of the story to go. It's 5:18 PM right now; I've been working on this chapter for over three hours at this point and we're still not even halfway through it.
And then...
Well, I'm just going to let this speak for itself.
“Okay, Mr. Dugan, what are you suggesting?” Coletti asked.
Before he could answer, the door opened and a man walked in. Carol Colin, Mr. Coletti’s secretary, shouted out, “I’m sorry, Randolph, this man just would not listen. I’m calling security to have him arrested.”
“It’s okay, Carol,” Coletti responded. She was very surprised that Mr. Coletti would just let someone barge in. She asked if he was sure. He nodded yes. There he stood, all five foot five of him, smoking his trademark Cuban cigar in a building where smoking was prohibited and Cuban cigars were a banned import since 1961, punishable by up to five years in jail and a $10,000 fine.
Mr. Luntz puffed on his cigar, smiled at Coletti, and said, “If your dad listened to me in 1966, he would have beat Rockefeller and been governor. Of course, the only thing you were interested in back then was the autographed baseball I brought you with Mickey Mantle’s name on it.”
Freddy was stunned to see Mr. Luntz. He stared at Coletti, who smiled and said, “Mr. Luntzstein, I still have that ball.
I am shocked. Shocked, I tell you.
Welcome to your plot twist, everybody.
“Your meeting with Freddy is the reason I’m here,” Mr. Luntzstein said.
Dugan whispered in Freddy’s ear, “I can’t believe it, Mr. Luntzstein’s here. You know he’s worth about three billion?”
Freddy couldn’t believe this little old man, who he’d been serving the early-bird special to all these years, was worth that kind of money. And what is with this Luntzstein nonsense? Freddy wondered.
Mr. Luntzstein, overhearing Dugan, said, “I’m worth four billion, but what’s a billion here and there? Now Randolph, I’ve been reading in the papers that Freddy could be facing 358 months. I’m old and my math may be a little fuzzy, but I believe that’s about thirty years.”
“Your information is correct,” Coletti responded.
“Well, there’s the problem. He’s the missus’ and my favorite waiter. Boy, at our senior age, we won’t have thirty years to wait around for him to get out of prison. Freddy, we already miss you and it’s only been a couple of weeks. Randolph, I know from your contorted remarks to the press that you really don’t want to prosecute Freddy. Besides, the Gazette is making you into a laughing stock. I have a plan, a good one. If you listen to me it will help Freddy and will help your chances of one day becoming governor.”
Coletti smiled. His dad’s friend was on a roll, so he was willing to humor him.
“Go on, Mr. Luntzstein.”
“Right now, from what I read in the papers, it seems Great NY Bank is out about $814 million, with interest. So that’s about $819 million?” Mr. Luntzstein asked.
“That’s about right,” Coletti answered. “So, let me hear this plan.”
“In the next twenty-four hours, I’ll round up the money and send them a check for $819 million, making them whole. So at the end of the day, what will we have now? The bank won’t be out a dime and will probably be a little bit smarter. They’ll fix whatever idiot computer system they had that allowed their error to happen and go undetected for so long. Then what we’re left with is a smarter, better bank, and a lot of 9/11 families that were helped out financially,” Mr. Luntzstein said.
Coletti was amazed at what he just heard. He leaned back in his chair and thought for a few seconds. “Mr. Luntzstein, am I to understand that, by the close of business tomorrow, you’re willing to pay Great NY Bank all the money they lost?”
“Every last penny they’re owed,” Mr. Luntzstein said confidently.
He wanted to make sure he understood his offer. Coletti tapped his fingers on his desk, giving his offer some serious thought. He looked at Ms. Crim, who stood there expressionless. Then asked, “Mr. Dugan, is your offer to have Mr. Will plead guilty to a single felony count of mail fraud, with a sentence ranging from zero to six months still on the table?”
What, you were expecting a trial? Why would you want a silly thing like that?
So Mr. Luntz, in a stunning move of relevance, Deus Ex Luntzes his way over to the bank and pays off Freddy's debts. Literally walks over there the next day and hands Mr. Tower a cheque. Even pays in enough extra to match Freddy's original balance, with interest.
“Excellent. Freddy Will’s account is finally in perfect order.”
Next day. Like, honestly who even cares at this point.
At 4:30, Judge Brenley received a copy of the agreement in his chambers. He immediately read the seven-page document. He reread it to make sure he didn’t miss anything, and then looked up as his law clerk walked in.
“I have in front of me the Will case,” Judge Brenley said.
“The one the whole country is following, sir,” the clerk replied.
“The very one! The speed and the usual circumstances are certainly unprecedented in my twenty-three years sitting on the bench. If this went to trial and Mr. Will lost under the sentencing guidelines, I would have been forced to sentence him to between 344 and 362 months. That certainly would have been excessive, but my hands would have been tied. Those Republicans, in their infinite wisdom, created federal sentencing guidelines during the eighties and made us nothing more than robots. They always scream about activist judges legislating from the bench. What about the constitution, which calls for the separation of the executive, legislative, and judicial branches of government? These guidelines encroach on our judicial authority,” the judge said.
His clerk heard him rail time and time again about the sentencing guidelines.
“What deal did the government work out with Mr. Will?” the clerk asked.
“It appears Mr. Will had a white knight. One of our wealthiest citizens, Mr. Luntzstein, paid off the debt that Mr. Will owed Great NY Bank. By doing so, the government has allowed him to plead guilty to a single felony count of mail fraud, which carries a sentence of zero to six months. Quite a change of fortunes for Mr. Will,” the judge said.
Brenley invites all parties to court at noon tomorrow.
Cut to the Gazette. Henry gets a call from Richard Wilford, who tells him that Freddy's assets have been unfrozen.
Next day. All rise, because we're at the courthouse, and Judge Brenley's just walked in. 4% to go.
Brenley gives a long spiel about how much attention the case has gotten, the aftermath of 9/11, Freddy's right to speedy trial, the bank's malfeasance (great word, that), Freddy's failure to report the error, and other similar things that we already know about. This goes on for about two pages.
“I have studied this seven-page agreement. The court has the responsibility to make sure the scales of justice are properly balanced. The court concedes the defendant’s sense of humanity was certainly in the right place. Mr. Luntzstein’s generosity removed the financial dislocation suffered by Great NY Bank. Therefore, I accept the agreement presented to me today, since it does indeed balance the scales of Justice.”
Cheering was heard throughout the courtroom. Freddy smiled for the first time as he looked at Dugan.
The judge continued, “Mr. Will, you will receive no jail time. Instead, effective Jan 2, 2002, you will report weekly for a consecutive three-year period to a probationary officer who will be assigned to you. In addition, over the next three years, you will be required to perform 2500 hours of community service. Mr. Will, do you wish to address the court?” Judge Brenley asked.
“Yes, Your Honor. I am sorry to have burdened the court today. I know I made some large mistakes. I thank you for the opportunity to allow me to serve my community. I will do it with great pride,” Freddy said.
“Often, when a defendant addresses the court, their words have no real meaning. I have trust, Mr. Will, that you meant every word,” Judge Brenley said. With that, he slammed down the gavel and said, “Case closed.”
The courtroom erupts into applause. Among them is Henry, who points at Freddy, and Freddy smiles back, and I guess that's a character arc...?
Anyway, Freddy takes the subway home.
On the subway, he was recognized by many of the passengers. He shook a few hands, and some asked for his autograph. The news of Freddy’s deal to avoid prison apparently spread fast, as some smiling riders offered congratulations.
One rider summed up the general sentiment: “The government should not have wasted their money investigating and bringing you to court. They should spend all their time on getting real crooks and the terrorists who killed thousands of us on 9/11.”
And I guess this is a thesis statement. Good enough.
Next day. Norm shows Frank today's copy of the Gazette.
“This is great; I know this weighed heavily on you and Julia,” Norm said.
“It still does, Norm. I have barely spoken to Freddy since this broke. It’s torn me up inside. Part of me is angry for what he did. And part of me feels guilty for not supporting my son when he needed me most,” Frank said with pain.
You know, if people in real life were as forthcoming, straightforward, and cognizant of their own emotions as Mr Kaplan's characters are, we'd probably have achieved world peace by now. The mental health crisis would certainly have sorted itself out.
Freddy, as you should really expect any time we cut to his POV near the beginning of a day, is out for a jog.
Then his thoughts turned to Monica. Every moment he spent with her was sheer joy. Freddy walked back and forth and took a deep breath. He knew the misery she went through when they broke up. Would she ever be able to forgive him? Freddy wasn’t so sure; he worried she might hate him. Who could blame her? How could she ever trust him again?
Will she. Won't she. Can you folks handle the suspense, because I sure can't. I'm on the edge of my goddamn seat.
Freddy goes to China Wok. Mr. Wong fires him.
You think I'm joking.
Mr. Wong looked at Freddy grimly and said, “You can’t work here anymore.”
Freddy was shocked. With his voice cracking, he said, “Mr. Wong, did I hear you right?” Freddy, having trouble getting the words out, continued, “Are you firing me?”
I'll admit. This almost got my hopes up.
But no, it's because Mr. Luntz wants him to run a charity.
He puffed his Cuban cigar before continuing. “Freddy, I want you to run the newly established Luntzstein Foundation. Nobody would do a better job making sure the money helps a lot of people.”
Freddy accepts. The real question is, will he be making more or less money than he was at China Wok?
Mr. Luntzstein lightened the mood with a couple of jokes. Freddy said, “I’ve known both of you for seven years as the Luntzes. Now I’m beginning to feel like I was part of some James Bond film.”
“I’m sorry about that, Freddy. We just wanted to live low-key and have privacy. That was becoming impossible. It got to the point where whenever we went anywhere, there would be cameras or the press. We just wanted to live a quiet, normal life,” Mr. Luntzstein said.
So your grand plan to make sure no one would recognize you was... to remove the last five letters of your name.
While still openly smoking Cuban cigars.
Genius.
Freddy goes back to the kitchen, and the entire cast is waiting there. Except for Norm. But really, why would you invite Norm to anything.
Freddy makes up with his parents, and then:
He walked over to Monica, who gave him a tense look. Freddy said, “Would you mind a little walk outside?” She nodded.
“Guys, we’ll be right back,” Freddy said. He walked her through the kitchen and out the back door, onto 77th Street. They looked at each other for a while without saying anything.
Finally, Freddy broke the ice and said, “I’m sorry.” It was met with dead silence. Another few minutes passed. Freddy spoke again. “Monica, please. I’m sorry. I never wanted to break up with you; I didn’t want you to suffer. I thought I would be in prison for twenty or thirty years. I mean, what kind of life would that have been for you, driving a couple of hours every weekend to see me through a glass booth?”
“The problem with that is you never gave me a vote. I helped you get the best lawyer and was ready to fight for you all the way. You should have never lost faith. Things turned out all right for you in the end. I would have never cast you aside the way you did me. Papa never thought of leaving my mother because she had cancer. If you love someone, you stay with them in good times and bad times.”
Monica’s eyes began to well up and tears poured down her cheeks. Freddy put his hand around the back of her head and tried to kiss her. She turned her head away and said, “No.” Freddy said nothing; he just held her close. She continued to cry and buried her head in his chest. Neither of them said a word for several minutes. Freddy started kissing the top of her head.
“I’m sorry, Monica. You’re absolutely right. You had a lot more faith than me; I was stupid to throw away the best woman to ever walk into my life. Please give me a second chance. Believe me, this time I’ll be with you as long as you want me around,” Freddy said.
“I don’t know, Freddy, I never loved anyone more than you, but you also caused me so much pain, I don’t want to go through that again.” Freddy was worried that he had lost her.
He stepped away from her and began to think. Monica stayed where she was with her head down. They now were about thirty feet from each other, neither of them saying a word. Several awkward minutes passed. Finally Freddy figured maybe he could lighten her mood by getting down on his knees. He raced to get down on his knees and grabbed Monica waist. She just stared at Freddy without saying a word. He then looked up at her with a goofy smile.
“Please, please, please forgive me. I want to always send you flowers. I want us to go to Yankee games again. To walk with you on the 59th street Bridge again, of course next time you’ll bring your sneakers. I even refilled all the bottles in my coke machine for you,” Freddy said.
The man refilled his Coke machine for you, Monica. Now you HAVE to take him back.
Monica was softening; she realized she loved him too much to stay mad at him and smiled at Freddy. Freddy smiled back, without saying a word he got up and picked her up, they embraced in a long, passionate kiss. She then held him tight.
“I want to feel excited and safe again, like before when I was with you. These last few weeks have been awful without you,” Monica said.
Again they embraced in a long, passionate kiss. Freddy was now on cloud nine.
And thus, the alien brain worms complete their lifecycle. Their eggs will be jettisoned out of Monica's ears within the hour, seeking out new hosts to turn into terribly-written dimestore romance protagonists.
IT'S THE CIIIIRCLE OF LIIIIIFE—
They walked inside, arm in arm. Everyone applauded. Mr. Luntzstein joked, “You guys were talking so long I was beginning to think that you’d eloped. Young love, isn’t it grand?”
No. Young love sucks.
Doug said, “No offense to your law firm, because they did a terrific job. But if I was Freddy’s attorney, the government would have been afraid to indict.” Everyone laughed.
I didn't.
Harry chimed in and said, “And, of course, Doug, Freddy knew if his legal defense failed I would be going upstate to wherever that prison was with my yellow cab and busted him out. No disrespect meant for the law, Mr. Will.”
“None taken, as long as your license, registration, and insurance were up to date when you broke Freddy out of jail,” Mr. Will said as the laughter became contagious.
“Now, Freddy you won’t be the only celebrity for long!” Harry said.
Freddy looked at Harry a little perplexed. “Okay, Harry, I’ll bite; what did you do or plan to do to make news?” Freddy asked.
“Dr. Berry just told me the article he sent to the New England Journal of Medicine about my speedy recovery is going to be featured on the Discovery Channel. I will be a segment on their series of medical marvels, they plan to interview and film Dr. Berry and me. They also expressed interest in interviewing the man who saved my life. I would love you to be part of the story,” Harry said. Freddy eyes watered up as everybody applauded.
Oh yeah. That was a plot thread, once upon a time.
The celebration goes on until midnight, and Freddy gives a toast.
Freddy started to thank everybody and all the emotions of the past few weeks got the better of him and he started to cry.
“It’s okay, Freddy, these are real tears of joy,” his mom said.
Don't you just feel so emotional right now, folks?
He starts thanking everyone there for all that they've done for him. He actually thanks his mom twice, which is probably a mistake:
Mom, despite all the mistakes I made, you were still willing to tell anyone who’d listen that I was still perfect. Dad, don’t worry, I get it now. The law is the law. From now on, any money I give away will only be with Mr. Luntzstein’s permission. Mom, I know your heart was in the right place, when you were hoping your boss, Hillary Clinton, would give me a pardon, but forgot she wasn’t the president yet.”
Don't remind me.
Freddy said to Monica, “You know, I hear that charitable foundations need in-house legal counsel.”
Monica, with a coy smile said, “Oh? What attorney might you have in mind?”
“Oh, I don’t know; maybe one who is on her way to becoming the attorney general or a federal judge. At your Senate confirmation hearings, they’ll love that you worked at a charity.”
Monica grinned ear to ear and said, “Do you know of a person who can get me hired at a prestigious charity?”
“Well, now that you’re back in my club, membership has its privileges.” “It sounds like an intriguing offer,” Monica said.
“Well then, the night is still young. Or should I say the morning? Why don’t we go to my apartment, where we can discuss my offer, among other things,” Freddy said.
“And what might those other things be?” Monica asked with a cute smile.
“Oh, I think once you’re in my apartment it will become apparent.” Freddy gave her a boyish smile as they walked slowly arm in arm on this bright, starry night.
THE. END.
And so One Extraordinary Time ends, not on a high note, not on a grand finale, but with a long, sputtering fart.
I'm going to save my thoughts for a wrap-up blog because, frankly, it's now almost 7:30 and I've been working on this for five hours. And there are some things I want to go over. Some lessons that I think can be learned.
And, of course, the Amazon review.
So stay tuned for that either today or tomorrow, folks.
See you then.
I... I'm just sitting here with my mouth wide open. Like seriously, what the fuck? I read this exact same plot twist in "How Not to Write a Novel."
This was certainly an extraordinary time, just not in the way Mr. Kaplan intended it.
Upside: at least it was a "Deus ex" hurry up and wrap up the story's plot ending. For a moment, I was worried it was going to be a cliffhanging "see how it works out in the sequel," type of thing, where you have to get the next book to find out how the trial went.
I’m very excited to see the review.
5080090
You're the reason I read all of this, I hope you're happy.
Holy shit that was a ride. I can't imagine reading that myself. It sounds like a slow, agonising trawl to get through the first 6 chapters, and then rapidly spirals into insanity and nonsense of the dryest variety, and that's just what I got from the snippets.
RB, you poor sonuvabitch. Your avatar could not be more fitting right now.
I noticed a distinct lack of a "The" there.
<Insert exasperated reluctant fapping gif here>
How, exactly, did Freddy commit mail fraud? And this is such a laughable lower plea from what he was facing I'm not sure why I didn't expect something like this from Mr. Kaplan.
Malfeasance is indeed a great word. Not used often enough. But that's a good thing for some words, as they'd become less great if used more often.
And thank whatever higher or lower or sideways powers you believe in for that.
"His peepee felt scared."
God, the Luntz ex Machina almost makes this pile of offal worth it. But nothing was worth the pain you went through. Godspeed.