Hypocrites with Power
Edits by James FitzHugh & Len Homber
(all copyrights reserved)
1) Do as I say, not as I do
Judge Joe Bean sat on the bench hearing the trial of a thirty-two year-old, grade seven school teacher, Michael Reynolds. Mr. Reynolds was on trial for sexually abusing two thirteen year-old boys, not to mention another five boys, now young men that had since came forward and filed complaints claiming that Reynolds had also abused them several years ago. Michael remembered two of the five but the other three were surely fraudsters joining in the class action lawsuit hoping for financial gain. Even the two that he remembered distinctly smelled money after all those years.
Ironic, thought Reynolds, the boys all enjoyed the sex at the time, even recruited a few of their friends for orgies with the teacher at his modest home in exchange for booze and drugs that were always plentiful … or passing grades in lieu. Where were the other fifty-odd others that had been in his bed over the last two decades? Every fucking one of them was eager for sex when they were thirteen or fourteen, consensual fuck buddies until they grew too old for Michaels taste at around fifteen. Perhaps they were honest and thankful for the sexual education he had provided and were not willing to persecute the man for the sake of monetary gain.
Reynolds had got caught with Sammy Daniels and Tyler Williams naked in a three- way in his marital bed by none other than his wife who called the police. She wanted a divorce and had stumbled on the perfect grounds for a quick legal process.
Sammy and Tyler refused to give statements to the police. In fact, all the authorities had was Mandy Reynolds eye witness account to the event and the forensic findings of three separate semen samples taken from the bed. The boys were forced to have blood tests, the results of which concurred with the semen samples found. The boys were then coerced into testifying by their parents.
The boys reluctantly described the graphic sexual activity that took place at Reynolds home while his wife, a corporate executive, was out of town for most weeks and weekends on business. Michael was no fool; he knew she had a boyfriend somewhere. Luckily, they had no children of their own.
Judge Bean listened intently to the testimony being given. Although not named in this lawsuit he had taken the time to read the complaints of the other five men, three of whom couldn’t describe the home they were molested in nor who the numerous other boys hanging around were. They would never be given the chance to take the stand and waste the court’s time, the defence council would shred them to pieces well before hand and the prosecution wouldn’t substantiate their credibility.
After jury deliberations of only a few hours, they came back with a guilty verdict on two counts of sexual interference with a minor under fourteen and statutory rape. A week later the Good Judge sentenced Reynolds to 20 years in prison with parole possible after fifteen-years for good behaviour. The distinguished jurist was in a hurry that Friday afternoon. He had plans for the weekend at a friend’s mansion, governor Jacob Roberts.
* * *
Governor Jacob Roberts was signing support for a new proposed bill on age of consent laws preventing the AOC from being lowered from 18 to sixteen years of age. His constituents were avid Mormons, some of whom held great power in industry. If these could have it their way, they would revert the law back to the age of twenty-one. Like all religions, they were a self righteous lot trying to shove their doctrine down other people’s throats besides their own followers. Gay boys and girls were quickly excommunicated from the LDS church and estranged from their shamed families.
Roberts was in a hurry, he signed the bill and passed it to his secretary without a thought then packed his brief case, put on his coat and left the office. He was hosting a party that weekend for a few of his closest friends, a quick phone call set his mind at ease when the receiving end assured him all was prepared as usual.
* * *
Reverend Malcolm Jackson was giving a sermon on the evils of homosexuality at the taping of his evangelist television program before a live audience. The program was and aired every Sunday morning at 8am on syndicated television across the nation. He boasted over a million followers in Canada, the United States and parts of Mexico. Hundreds of thousands of dollars poured into his office headquarters located on the seventieth floor penthouse suites of the Norlex tower every week. He claimed he was closer to God there and nobody argued that. He was a very wealthy man in his fifties. A loving and devoted husband of 30 years with five children and 3 toddler grandchildren.
The good reverend originated from the projects. He was very adept at stealing, selling drugs or any other illicit activity to support his single mom and family, including his darkest secret, selling his black ass from age 12 on the corner of hooker-row to boy-lovers, as well as, frugal men who found that boys gave cheaper blowjobs than the ladies of the evening.
The reverend was also in a hurry to wrap up Friday’s taping of “Jesus is Lord,” and be on his way for a well deserved monthly weekend away with friends. His wife, Joan, never questioned his absences. She was sure he was preaching the Word of the Gospel somewhere on the continent.
* * *
Chief of Police, Frank Winston, looked at his watch as he sat with his commanders going through the latest crime stats of the city’s two-million population. The chief was in a hurry to end the meeting because he too was going away for the weekend for some well deserved R&R. He hoped his pager didn’t sound with some dire emergency or another while he was away.
“I’m still getting a lot of heat over the male prostitution activity on Adam Street after dark.” the chief berated his staff. “I want more John’s brought in and charged, it’s the only way these faggot paedophiles preying on underage boys will get the message.”
“Sir.” interjected a detective, “Operation Doughboy is scheduled for tonight on Adam Street. We have young looking males from the police academy posing as hookers all wired for sound. We also have a news crew from WTXL who haven’t been told the objective yet but are eager to be a part of it as an exclusive.” he relayed to his superior who had an obvious vengeance for paedophiles.
“Do you have tow-trucks lined up to confiscate vehicles? Governor Roberts’ new bill that includes a provision to impound vehicles used in criminal activity has been passed as of yesterday. I want to show the residents of Adams Street who have had enough with the traffic noise and a condom littered park that we mean business.”
“Do you still want the gay-boys left alone even though they’re under-age?”
“Yes, indeed. The juvenile courts are bursting at the seams already. Besides, once the kids see their Johns’ going down and the repercussions of this bust scaring off the rest of their clientele … hopefully, the gay boys will stay home.”
Detective Mark Williams had been in vice for five years and listened to his commanders ranting, without further comment. He knew those boys selling their ass weren’t all gay, gay-for-pay perhaps, in order to finance a drug habit. However, he knew that they would only resort to other illegal means of fundraising in no time at all if the Johns’ were frightened off even if for only a short time..
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I must cut our meeting short for personal reasons … but I highly suggest you use the remaining time to discuss details for tonight’s bust.”
* * *
Rocky Rhoades, star of the television series ‘Blunder High,’ was twenty-five and looked 17. Nature had been kind to Rocky, born Albert Simms. There were young girls like a swarm of locusts outside the studio and his hotel room, not to mention paparazzi seemingly everywhere he went. Rocky was a hunk of a man, six-feet tall, a very well tanned swimmers build that the directors liked to flaunt in at least one scene per episode. His bare ass was a common sight on the show either showering with his mates or the simulation of fucking Debbie, his girlfriend … or Monica, his math teacher.
Production was behind that day due to the 360 degree camera malfunction that was so much a part of scenes when they were filming on location at McKinnon High using the existing students as extras who simply walked back and forth in a crowded hallway, or at their lockers that lined both sides. All other scenes were filmed in the studio. Rocky played a homophobic senior high student often beating up presumed gay-boys. The GLBT community complained loudly that the show’s popularity among youth set a bad example on tolerance and equality which the organization strived to prevent.
In an interview with Teen Idol magazine, he was quoted as saying, “To each his own, just don’t flaunt the fact that you’re a fudge-packer and like cock in your mouth! And certainly don’t hit on me … or else the character I play will be forced out of me.”
It was three-thirty; they were filming a locker scene where another star football player was taking shots at Rocky for fumbling the ball in last night’s game. The scene called for the boys to get into a scuffle broken up by costar Jerry Miller and some other boys. Rocky and Jerry were quite close both on and off the set. Jerry was accompanying Rocky for a weekend retreat from screaming girls and lurking media. He soon discovered they had something in common.
Getting away from the set undetected was worked out. A vintage Volkswagen Beetle in the mechanics class garage was to be driven by its owner, 17 year old Bobby Hilton, who was only too pleased to chauffeur the stars to their hotel. He drove out of the bay-door with the stars in the back seat covered in a blanket and were soon on their way to inside the parkade of the Beverly Estates hotel to a private elevator used only by distinguished guests. Bobby was given autographed pictures of the two stars made out to his girlfriend Angie. He knew his girlfriend would be thrilled with the autographed pictures that he commented that he was definitely going to get laid tonight!
Each star plucked out a hair from their heads, Jerry said, “Here’s a little insurance that you get to fuck your brains out tonight, buddy.”
Leaving the hotel for the governor’s mansion was arranged the same way after Bobby sat tight in his bug waiting on the two stars. While he was waiting he couldn’t resist calling Angie on his cell phone to tell her of his stroke of luck and promised to meet up with her in an hour or so. He could bet that she was on the phone calling girlfriends with the exciting news, however, Bobby expected that and kept his location a secret. He couldn’t betray his idols trust in him.
* * *
Sixty-five year-old billionaire Howard Jones boarded his private helicopter on his penthouse suite roof and gave the pilot his destination. He immediately cleared his flight path of forty miles with air-traffic control. A half-hour later, he was landing on the governor’s residence helicopter pad.
Howard needed the time away; he called it his ‘mental health days.’ He was a ruthless businessman owning several manufacturing corporations at home and abroad. That particular day he had fired three high level executives and a host of managers who were apparently unable to turn around the ever losing auto parts factory in Brussels where he had spent the week reorganizing the company. He had only arrived back home that morning. As if he had nothing better to worry about, his VP of Human Resources was in his office that morning proposing that Jones Industries be a leading example and provide same-sex benefits to its employees around the world. Howard fired him, too. He always thought the man was a faggot.
* * *
Renowned prosecutor Paul Maer, forty-one was reading the deposition of a man accused of molesting a fourteen year-old boy, the boy’s mother had walked into her son’s room and saw Dillon Fritz, a house border, and her son naked on the bed masturbating each other. The large lady beat the hell out of Dillon first and then called the police after she had made a sorry mess of his face.
Paul was in a hurry, it had been a heavy workload day with cases seemingly to endlessly pile up on his desk for assessment whether to prosecute the cases or not. The boy was remaining mum on the event, and Fritz maintained a defence that he was only teaching the boy the facts of life and got carried away.
“Yeah, right!” Paul chuckled and signed the court order to prosecute one Dillon Fritz for sexual interference with a minor under sixteen. Good thing the boy had only turned fourteen the day before or the charges would have been harsher with sexual interference under fourteen. Putting down the file, Paul said to himself, “To bad ya got caught, loser.” He had his coat and fedora on making his way to the parkade and, within minutes, was headed directly to the governor’s mansion, his overnight bag already packed the night before.
* * *
Jamie Jameson was in his late twenties. Once upon a time he was cute boy-whore, hitting the streets at 10 years-old on the advice of an older friend who was fourteen. Trevor showed him the ropes, first one-on-one practical experience, then off to Adam Street where he took Jamie along for some hands-on experience. His tricks never complained, on the contrary, a two for one deal was an all too alluring prospect.
Jamie’s first time, the boys were solicited by a man in a shiny black car and taken to a nice hotel with car valets, doormen, and concierge who all greeted Mr. Lancaster by name, obviously a regular patron of the five-star hotel. Lancaster was never questioned about his young companions whose tattered clothing certainly didn’t measure up to hotel standards and they got a lot of stares as they made their way through the large elegant lobby to the elevators.
Jamie later made a name for himself amongst the elite. He especially liked governor Roberts who paid him generously for sex. Roberts introduced him to other men who occasionally took him to a hotel but mostly, it was at the governor’s mansion where he was shared among the men. He would usually leave after a weekend with as much as $500 in his pocket, more money than he’d ever seen in his young life.
It was the governor who proposed a finder’s fee for procuring other young boys willing to go with men for money. One by one Jamie brought them around, even filling orders for certain age preferences. By the time he was too old for the clientele, at 15, Jamie had eight boys 11 to 14 under his control that he had personally broken in. The governor’s parties grew, and it was Jamie’s job to supply boys over the years.
At twenty-six, he never worked a day in his life. He was living quite comfortably off the avails of male prostitution catering to the rich and famous. But Jamie was no fool. He was well aware that the business he had built up was nothing more than a house of cards. At any moment, he knew that it could all come tumbling down. But, if he was ever taken down, he was going to make sure that he was not going to be the fall guy. Hidden away, he had recorded every encounter he had arranged that included the date, the time, the place and the participants. That particular week the governor called him and asked to arrange entertainment for his friends the following weekend.
“Ten boys should do it, the usual 11 to fourteen age group. I’m having an Arab prince for the weekend who prefers more … tender aged meat, say a doughboy? Can you fill that order, Jamie? These Arabs will pay a fortune for premie meat.”
It was a lot to ask, but Jamie promised to deliver a “premie,” code for the under 10 year-olds. Ten to twelve were called tweens, and the 13 to 15 referred to as ‘chickens.’ Jamie raped his own eight year nephew that very night. He’d known that it would happen eventually in order to sell the kids ass. The governor’s request for a primie just pushed his plans for the kid ahead by a couple of years.
Jamie shared a room with little Egan at his aunt’s place ever since his mother was sentenced to jail for check fraud when he was fourteen. He never left the comforts of Aunt Gloria’s home … and her bed. She’d taken his virginity the first week he resided there. Gloria was a prostitute and a god damned good one. Men came and went and, when they were gone, he was allowed in her bed for further sexual education. Sometimes it was with one of her select tricks who got off on watching a boy fuck a woman or, better yet, used the kid in every which way and paid a bonus for it. Jamie had by then formed the opinion that men craved sex with boys and he was determined to capitalize on it. His aunt’s pimp quickly put him to work. Jamie never looked back and carried on later in life running his own boy’s-for-hire business.