36. The Story Breaks

April, 2010

Utter pandemonium was how he'd describe it, later. How five journalists can make that much noise at once was hard to understand. Especially out in the open, but shouting all at the same time led to…well, pandemonium. Martha stood calmly. She was used to being screamed at by more than these few reporters. The red carpet walk at the Academy Awards would put these men to shame.

"Gentlemen, please. I'll be happy to answer any of your questions, just please let's have them one at a time."

The men got themselves under control in short order. Afaitu almost laughed, the rapt attention she had from them. It was like watching a master at work. They had their notebooks out, pens poised and ready; he could swear he saw some drool dripping from their mouths.

"Now, who would like to go first?" Martha asked, tranquil and seemingly unaffected. As if this was just any other day.

"Marcel Laurent, AFP." Martha nodded. "Mrs. Rodgers, did we just hear right? Your son, declared dead many years ago, is actually alive and in this prison?"

Martha dabbed her eyes, looking distraught. "Sadly, Mr. Laurent, yes. It is true. I have seen him and spoken with him. My son Richard is alive and well."

"How can this be? What is he in jail for?" asked one of the local reporters, earning a glare from Laurent, who hadn't finished yet.

Afaitu spoke up. "You will all remember the trial of Jean Dupont, the man who pled guilty to fraud, amongst other charges, and was sentenced to many years in prison." The reporters were nodding, the case had been big news at the time in Tahiti. "Gentlemen, the man was in reality innocent of the charges. That man is indeed Richard Rodgers."

Afaitu held up his hand as their mouths all opened at once. They looked like baby birds, demanding their parents stuff worms in their opened craws. He was happy to stuff in more words. The more they knew, the better.

"Let me continue, please. Mr. Rodgers, as you'll recall, was quite ill when he was rescued. He had amnesia and had been near death. When he first remembered who he was, an official visited him to see if he was telling the truth. You must remember there is a sizeable reward still available for information leading to the whereabouts of Mr. Rodgers, so the suspicion at the time was that this was a bald attempt at money."

Furiously scribbling, the reporters nodded. This was all well known to them.

"Mr. Rodgers, unfortunately, was still quite confused. He had pieces of his story quite mixed up, and, ultimately it was determined that he was lying. Physically, of course, he had changed dramatically. He was accused of fraud and misrepresenting himself. Faced with the overwhelming belief that he was guilty, he chose not to fight the charges. He was still not fully recovered, and there were many periods where he was half convinced that he had dreamt it all up."

"When did he realize he truly was Richard Rodgers?" Christophe Martin, a prominent local reporter, asked.

"Some time ago. He has, happily, recovered almost all of his memories, save for the weeks in the little boat he was found floating in. Unfortunately, he soon realized it would be nearly impossible to now claim he was in fact Richard Rodgers. Who would believe a convicted man? I became involved in the case, and we decided the best option was to bring Mrs. Rodgers here to meet with him, confirm his identity to the world. That is where you all come in, gentlemen."

"Where has he been all this time? Why didn't he turn up earlier?"

"That is truly Richard's story to tell. However, he obviously survived the shipwreck, finding himself alone and confused on a sinking boat. He was able to make his way to an island nearby; unfortunately, it was not inhabited. There he survived these many years, alone, until for reasons he cannot remember, he ended up in the little boat. Drifting likely for weeks; again he cannot remember those details. Next he knew, he woke up in a hospital bed, wondering what was real and what was a dream."

"This is an incredible story. What do you expect to happen next, Mr. Tutomo, Mrs. Rodgers?" Laurent asked.

"We would like to call on the government of French Polynesia to release Mr. Rodgers immediately. He was convicted of fraud, for claiming his own rightful name. He has committed no crime, so we expect steps to be taken to fix this miscarriage of justice, directly and with the urgency it deserves." Afaitu declared.

"Mrs. Rodgers, how is your son?"

"He is in good spirits. Anxious to be freed, as you can imagine. He is thinner than I remember, and much more muscular. Apparently he subsisted mainly on fruits and fish while on the island. He struggled to survive, but survive he did. Only to end up in this nightmare once he made it back to civilization."

"May we take some pictures of you, Mrs. Rodgers? In front of Nuutania?"

Afaitu held back his grin with difficulty. So far this was going well. That was when he noticed one of the reporters talking frantically on his cell phone and suddenly felt a chill. What if he were speaking to Grollet or one of his henchmen? Afaitu had chosen reporters that were known to be of the highest caliber, but that didn't mean one of them wasn't in Grollet's pocket.

Seeing Afaitu's glare, the man finally hung up and turned back to them.

"Sorry, I was talking to my station. Would it be possible for you to wait around for a while longer? They are sending a truck so we can get a piece of video for the evening news."

Afaitu gave a deep sigh of relief. "Yes, yes, we are happy to oblige any video interviews."

That broke the dam, as the other men associated with television stations made their own frantic calls, and the reporter from the local newspaper called for their professional photographer to come get shots of Martha in front of the prison.

Afaitu turned, looking back at Nuutania looming above them. He hoped Rick was safe. And for the first time since this had all landed in his lap, he was able to contemplate a future that had Rick walking out of that building and back into the sunlight.

Marcel Laurent was caught in a dilemma. He had worked for Agence France-Presse, the world's oldest news agency, for over forty years. He'd spent most of those breaking the big stories around the world. Well respected, he and his wife had decided to cut back, take it easy in their golden years. He'd asked for and received a transfer to French Polynesia, where they'd found a life that was quite laid back and easygoing.

Not a place where much news broke, most of his stories back to headquarters were about the current government's actions in response to edicts from France. French Polynesia had been granted a great deal of autonomy, but there were still laws passed in faraway Paris that affected the locals.

Now, he found himself in the middle of a genuine, honest to god story. One that would undoubtedly be picked up worldwide. And, given the fact that he was the only reporter present with a global news agency behind his name, it would be his story that was carried internationally. At least until the rest of the world sent its own contingents of journalists to cash in on what was clearly an unbelievable human interest story.

Which brought him back to his current dilemma. This was potentially a huge, giant, holy crap story. But—but, was it true? Was this woman actually Martha Rodgers? She looked like her, sounded like her. Yet, Marcel had been around for some stories that looked just as fresh on the surface, then turned into rotten shit the moment one dug in to it. He wouldn't blindly wire anything back to headquarters without some sort of confirmation. And the best way to do that was to speak with Mrs. Rodgers' people.

Walking about ten feet away from the rest of the pack, who were salivating over their chance to speak to such a famous person with such a humongous story, he put in a phone call to his small office. Speaking rapidly to his assistant, he instructed her on how to contact Rodgers' representatives in the States. Making sure she understood the urgency, he hung up and hoped there would be a quick response. He wanted to jump on the story as badly as the rest of them, but he knew well the risk of jumping in front of a story, only to have it run you over instead.

While he waited, he pulled open a web browser on his phone and reviewed what had previously been reported about the disappearance of Richard Rodgers. Marcel had not yet arrived in Tahiti, those years ago. He had no first-hand knowledge of the event.

And an event it had been. It had been revealed that the best-selling author had been working on a poor cargo boat for almost a year, supposedly researching a new character. That seemed like a long time to do research for, so Marcel made a note of it. What was absolutely fascinating was that the current President of French Polynesia had also been a passenger on the ill-fated boat. As he read of the circumstances surrounding the loss of the Iriata and subsequent rescue of the survivors—well, three of them anyway—Marcel became convinced there was more to the story.

Obviously, with the supposed rescue of Richard Rodgers, a whole can of worms was about to be opened. Marcel wondered if the President had any inkling that the man known as Jean Dupont was, in fact, his old shipmate. Grollet, at the time of rescue, had been full of despair at the fact that three were left behind. Marcel quickly checked on the other names: an Arenui, who was a crewman on the ship, and another passenger, Kate Beckett—an American like Rodgers. Hmm, interesting. Suddenly his gut was tingling even further.

It was very interesting that Grollet had been able to use the sympathy generated by the rescue and cash it in for a political career. Since Marcel's arrival in the South Pacific three years ago, he'd recognized that Grollet was a consummate politician. He didn't particularly care for the man, but he had to acknowledge that Grollet knew how to play the game. Marcel found himself praying this was all true, that it was not a hoax. The human drama to follow was going to be better than any film Mrs. Rodgers could ever star in on the big screen.

Jim Beckett was waiting by the phone. Oh, he was pretending to do other jobs as well, but the reality was, he was waiting for the phone to ring. The plan called for Afaitu and Martha to meet with local reporters around 1pm Tahiti time; he should be getting phone calls soon after, if they wanted to verify anything. He expected they would, for a story like this.

Martha had called hours earlier, after getting to Papeete and into her hotel safely. Everything had been going well to that point. The next steps were the ones that scared Jim the most: making sure no one was following her and getting in to see Richard. It was now nearly 8pm in New York, which is six hours ahead of Tahiti.

Celeste had made dinner and forced him to eat something; all the while he tried not to look at his phone. She was now taking a call from another client, a bit of a diva actress, if you asked Jim, and he was sitting in their living room trying to pretend he was being productive.

He'd been working on issues that would be raised by the return of Richard (and Katie) to the world of the living. He hadn't been able to file any motions, not wanting to tip their hands, but the issue had merited research.

Richard's case had been the most complicated, not surprising. Not because he was rich, as it turned out, but because he'd been in French Polynesia for almost a year. Jim had looked at case law thoroughly. In the United States, the case of the 'living dead' was spelled out best by a 1990 law review titled "The Rights of the Living Dead: Absent Persons in the Civil Law," by a professor named Jeanne Carriere at the Tulane University School of Law.

Most states allowed someone to be declared dead after 5- 7 years of continuous absence, provided that an effort was made to find the missing person. After this time, debts from the estate would be paid and the estate distributed, spouses could legally remarry and children receive social security.

However, the 7 year wait came into play only if the missing person simply disappeared. When someone was exposed to "imminent peril", such as a plane crash or a shipwreck, and failed to return, the courts could presume they were dead without any waiting period.

Martha and Jim had had this option in the States once the three survivors had been found and related the tale of the shipwreck that had supposedly killed Richard and Katie. However, neither of them had wanted to exercise it. Neither Katie nor Richard were married, had children, or significant debts. Thus, seeing no need to have them declared dead, they'd chosen to wait. At seven years absence, they were forced into a declaration; Richard's estate could no longer lie in limbo.

However, well before that time, the French government had attempted to have Richard declared dead, based on a French law that allowed a French citizen, or a foreigner who lived in a French protectorate, to be declared dead by a prosecutor or interested parties. Shortly after Grollet, Tane and Tamahere had been rescued, a court in French Polynesia ruled that Richard was dead and that they had jurisdiction because Richard had lived in the islands for the past year.

At the time, Jim had still been fighting the battle with the bottle, but Martha had been devastated by the news. She'd no need or desire for him to be declared dead; looking back now, Jim wondered at the motivation. He figured Grollet must have been behind it somehow, though to what end? Either way, Martha had had to hire an international attorney who'd shown that Richard still retained a residence in the States, a passport from the US, and was intending to return there shortly, based on letters to Martha. They'd gotten the ruling reversed. Yet, it made Jim nervous. What could Grollet have been playing at?

Now that Jim knew they were both alive (he wouldn't entertain the possibility that Katie was not), their return would mean a lot of paperwork, but nothing insurmountable. The main complicating issues that occurred when people were found alive was when there had been large insurance payments to beneficiaries or social security benefits. Neither insurance companies nor the government liked paying people for the loss of a loved one when said loved one was actually alive. Most of those payouts had to be then paid back. But, things were pretty simple with Richard and Katie.

The ringing of his phone startled him. He'd gotten distracted thinking about the ramifications of the law. Seeing it was an international call, his heart started racing.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, this is Angelique Durand, from Agence France-Presse. I am calling to speak to Jim Beckett."

The voice on the other end was young, with heavily accented French. Jim smiled; Afaitu and Martha must have pulled it off.

"Speaking. How may I help you Ms. Durand?"

"I was given your information as the agent and contact for the actress, Martha Rodgers?"

"Yes, that is correct. My company has represented Mrs. Rodgers for years."

"Excellent. I am calling you to confirm some information given to one of my colleagues. First, is Mrs. Rodgers currently visiting French Polynesia?"

"Yes, she is. I made the arrangements myself. She flew there on Air Tahiti Nui, arriving on the redeye from LAX early this morning."

"May I ask what she is here for?"

"We met here in New York a few weeks ago with a representative of a prisoner in your Nuutania prison, who presented compelling evidence that her son, Richard Rodgers, missing for ten years now, was in fact alive and well. She went there to confirm his identity."

"And the name of this representative that you met with?"

"Afaitu Tutomo. He is the attorney for Mrs. Rodgers son."

"I see. And did you review the evidence as well, Mr. Beckett?"

"I did."

"And you believed it?"

"Yes. There is no doubt in my mind that her son is in prison on your island right now. She has flown there to help obtain his immediate release."

"Thank you very much for the information, Mr. Beckett. May I call you if we need anything else?"

"Absolutely. Glad to help; Richard deserves justice, and his mother is there to seek it for him."

After spelling his name for the woman and obtaining her phone number in case he needed to contact her, he sat back, relieved. Celeste wandered in and found him sitting on the couch, smiling at nothing.

"What is it Jim?"

He roused, looked around absently, then pulled her into his lap, grinning widely. "I just got a call from a journalist with AFP, trying to verify some of what Martha had told them. They did it, Celeste, they did it!"

Marcel Laurent got the confirmation from Angelique at 2:30pm, Tahiti time. He instructed her to send out a camera crew immediately, then approached the lawyer, Tutomo, to request time.

"Mr. Tutomo, I see Mrs. Rodgers has been busy giving video interviews," he said, nodding to where a local news crew was currently interviewing the actress. The pieces were intended to run that evening. However, Marcel's story would be different. It was intended for a global audience, and by the time he had it filmed and filed, it would be past midnight in Paris. However, he knew that the news climate of the world had changed dramatically since he'd been fresh out of journalism school; news was now a 24/7 business.

"Yes, we are hoping to have her son's plight broadcast throughout French Polynesia this evening," Afaitu replied.

"Mr. Tutomo, we both know you didn't ask me here for a simple, local news story. You need this to go far beyond French Polynesia. That's where I come in."

Afaitu regarded the man. He was right. And the man was no fool. "I assume you used your connections to check out the story?"

"Yes. It checks. This is really Martha Rodgers." It wasn't a question, per se, but a marvel that this was really happening. That a man in this day and age could disappear for ten years, then turn up in prison, of all places. And not just any man: a man of international fame. It was truly a mind boggling event. But an event, it was.

"It is really Martha Rodgers. And Richard Rodgers. He is a remarkable man, as I hope you will soon see."

"I hope I do. Listen, I have a crew on its way. We will be filing our story with Paris. I assume that is fine with you?"

"More than fine, Mr. Laurent."

"Do you know why he was left behind? Has he told you?"

Afaitu just smiled enigmatically at the other man. He wanted to tell him that it was a story for the ages, one that would captivate the world once the truth came out. That it was a story of survival in the face of calamity. A love story in the face of a fight to survive. But he could say none of these things. So, he settled for the simple, and the truth.

"The story belongs to Richard Rodgers. It is his right to tell it; I think he has earned it, no? Thrown in jail for daring to claim he was who he was. Perhaps as early as tomorrow, he'll be able to tell you in person."

"You have a wildly optimistic view of the court system, if you think he'll be out tomorrow." Laurent was certain the man would be released; after all, he was innocent. But tomorrow?

"You do your job well, Mr. Laurent, and I have no doubt of the outcome."

"This is Marcel Laurent, of the Agence France-Presse reporting from Papeete, Tahiti in French Polynesia. I am standing in front of the notorious prison, Nuutania. Long considered one of the worst prisons in all of France, it is seriously overcrowded, decrepit and dangerous. Into this terrible place, a man was condemned about six weeks ago. His name, he claimed, was Richard Rodgers. Yes, the very Richard Rodgers that disappeared at sea ten years ago and was presumed dead. The Richard Rodgers who was better known under his pen name, Richard Castle."

Grollet's private office phone rang. Pausing the news program, he answered absently. He heard the familiar voice on the other end; a touch of panic threaded through it. "Are you watching this? It's on all the local stations as well. What the hell are we going to do?"

"Calm down. Panic and all is lost. I haven't seen all of it. Let me watch the rest; I'll call you. And don't call me on this phone again." 'Stupid pig' he thought as he hung up. He was alone, in his overstuffed office. Rising from his chair, he poured a stiff drink before resuming his seat and pressing play on the DVR.

"…pen name, Richard Castle. This man was found drifting on a tiny boat on the ocean. Near death, unconscious, he was brought to Papeete and treated successfully for his injuries. He regained consciousness and eventually his memory of who he was. However, no one believed him. Not the hospital, not the government. He was accused of seeking the reward money that still exists for information regarding Richard Rodgers. Alone, friendless, still confused, he pled guilty and was sent to the prison you see behind me. That might have been the end for the man that came to be known as Jean Dupont."

He wished it had been. Perhaps they should have killed him outright, before he'd had a chance to say anything. He'd been nervous about any impulsive actions, and had thought he'd had all the bases covered. The plan had been for him to die in a few months, unknown, missed by no one. Hell, he'd tried to have him declared dead here in Tahiti all those years ago. The potential boon to the coffers, if they'd proved he'd lived here, had been his foot in the door to politics. One of them, anyway. That plan had fallen apart. Clearly the most recent one had gone up in smoke as well. What was it about Richard Rodgers? Nothing Grollet did to him ever seemed to actually affect the man. It was maddening.

"However, he was recognized. And eventually a lawyer found his way to him. Afaitu Tutomo," the camera panned to show a young Polynesian lawyer standing in front of the prison. He gave a slight smile to the camera, but was otherwise silent.

"Mr. Tutomo met with the man known as Jean Dupont, and determined a way to discover the truth. He flew to the United States and brought back the one person who could identify Mr. Rodgers," the camera now zoomed out to show Martha Rodgers standing next to Tutomo. She was easily recognizable, famous the world over. Grollet squeezed his eyes closed; they'd managed to outmaneuver his men, somehow. The woman had bright red hair, for God's sake! How anyone could have lost her while shopping was a mystery he'd never solve.

"Today, his mother, the famed actress, Martha Rodgers, entered the infamous Nuutania, met with the man who called himself Richard Rodgers and identified him as her son."

The camera zoomed so Martha was framed alone in the shot, Nuutaina still looming over her.

"Mrs. Rodgers, what do you have to say about the events today?"

"I was ecstatic to see my son after so many years believing him dead. He is, of course, anxious to be set free and eager to be reunited with his family."

"What is the next step, now that you have found your son?"

"I call on the courts of France, the government of France and French Polynesia, to right this wrong immediately. My son has committed no crime, and his incarceration is a sham. I beg you to do the right thing and allow Richard to rejoin the world as he ought to months ago, when he was found."

"Thank you, Mrs. Rodgers. I'm sure I speak for the rest of the world when I say that we would like nothing more than to see your son set free as well. This is Marcel Laurent, AFP, in Papeete, Tahiti."

"Son of a bitch," Grollet screamed, launching the tumbler of alcohol against a wall, shattering it. It was all coming apart. And he had to salvage it. Everything depended on his actions, once more.