Triumph Of The Belittled Son-in-law

CHAPTER 4

“Bullshit! Look into my eyes. I have been doing this job for almost 25 years. I can tell when a suspect is just making a show or pretending to have no idea about something,” Officer Astrid snapped her fingers toward Paul.

“I am not making a show Ma’am,” Paul pleaded.

“Officer!” Astrid raised her voice irritably. “You refer to me as an officer.”

“Alright Officer Astrid,” Paul swallowed a bit, trying to catch his breath. “I know these memos and financial statements. They were the basis of my work with Lord Winston before he died but these…..”

Officer Hall interrupted him abruptly. “Good! You are finally realising that you are guilty so why are we still here?”

Paul wondered why the officers were already pronouncing him guilty. Was their job not to find the truth? He knew that Ponzi scheme interrogations are usually extensive and it was completely strange not even to ask any questions from any member of the Winston family.

He wasn't even a member of their family anymore so why would he suffer for their sins?

His mind wandered into the names of people who could have framed him but there was no need to number them - the whole of Winston's family, except maybe Sarah, must have been responsible for this, he thought. 

“I am innocent. Lord Winston was innocent too. All our deals were legal and we didn't deceive investors,” Paul affirmed, his breathing rapid as he wiped his sweat.

“Are you now speaking for the dead old man? Officer Hall mocked. “Just In case he visits you in the dream, tell him that he is lucky that he died or else we would be escorting his ass to a federal prison cell just like we are about to do to you.”

Officer Hall spoke in a sneering tone. He made exaggerated gestures together with Officer Astrid, both having a moment of laughter as they basked in their mockery.

“Give me a moment,” Officer Hall signaled to Officer Astrid, excusing himself from the interrogation room.

Paul was suspicious. He noticed that the officers had little earbuds in their ears. For the past five or ten minutes, there were pauses in their questions as if they were distracted but now that Paul had noticed the earbuds, he knew that something was going on.

They are definitely talking to someone, he reasoned. 

Was their conversation being recorded? Was someone else listening to them from the outside? 

The interrogation room had a two-way mirror such that he couldn't see what was going on behind it.

Paul leaned forward, angling his eyes into the spaces that revealed themselves anytime the officers opened. He was thirsty for a sign - anything would go a long way toward satisfying his curiosity.

Officer Hall returned to the room but within a few more rounds of minutes, both Officer Hall and Officer Astrid had excused themselves twice.

This time, Paul knew that he had to take matters into his own hands. What was the worst that could happen anyway? He was already doomed knowing that he had been framed.

His gaze shifted to his hands, remembering that he was no longer cuffed. It was his moment.

A sudden surge of adrenaline pumped into his blood as he leaped from his chair, pushing the table over with his foot as he made pace towards the door, shrugging off Officer Astrid’s effort to restrain him.

What?!

His eyes lit open as got past the door. He had finally satisfied his curiosity but how could he recover from what he had just seen?

Opposite Paul was his ex-wife, Sarah Winston, with Jude Bournemouth - the same man who cuckolded him. They were looking into each other’s eyes so passionately and giggling. 

Paul gritted his teeth and his eyes were bloodshot red as he saw Jude wrap his hand around Sarah’s waist.

Paul scanned through again and this time he saw Frank Winston and his mother, Lady Winston.

He knew at once that the Police had been bought over. He was doomed for destruction. 

“Hey! Jude, look at the poor loser over there,” Sarah pointed as she giggled in the excitement of being with her lover.

Before Jude could react, a swarm of policemen, including Officer Hall and Astrid rushed Paul, restraining him from moving further and hitting him with their batons.

Paul’s face was covered in agony. 

He tried to endure the pain from the officers who were hitting him. The hits were so fast that it felt like there was a stroke to his back 3 times per second.

He gasped for an ounce of breath as he was being tortured. It felt like fire was burning every nerve of his and to make it worse, a slight glance into space made him witness his ex-in-laws laughing and making a mockery of his situation.

“I will come back for you all,” Paul gnarled, his voice cracked with pain as if he was forcing the words out of his throat. “You better kill me now because I will never forget this”.

The officers kept beating him inside the interrogation room which was now locked. His eyes were swollen and his lips were reshaped as blood trickled down his mouth. The dark bruises on his neck and arm sent a jolt of agony through his body.

He didn't deserve such humiliation.

He was lying on the floor, out of breath and almost lifeless as he was locked in the interrogation room.

****

The next thing Paul knew, he was in front of a prisoner transport van. His hands were cuffed and his wounds were still fresh. 

Paul noticed that the men who were escorting him into the van were in red uniforms different from the dark colors that the police officers wore. He realized that they were correctional officers and they were also armed. 

He knew he was about to be jailed.

His brain went spiking as he recalled how messy his life had been. He thought of his ex-wife who betrayed him and his former in-laws who framed him.

It was quiet and stuffy in the van as Paul allowed his thoughts to travel wide.

Screech!

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched sound followed by a huge collision, and the sound of metal and glass shattering was evident.

The van stumbled as it was struck, sending it spinning off the road. The wheels wobbled off and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air.

Paul struggled to hold onto a piece of metal but before he could figure out his next move, he realized that the rear door of the van flung open and two masked armed men went straight after him, pulling him from the van.

Paul’s chest heaved with fear and his hands were trembling as the armed men escorted him out of the van.

“Don't be afraid young master Leonard,” one of the masked men said, bowing his head even though he was under pressure. “You are in safe hands now.”