Chapter 2

I returned to the bedroom, where Philip and the two boys were hovering around the bed, and said, “The doctor’s on his way. Philip, while we’re waiting for him, go get the digital camera. We need to photograph those bruises while they’re still fairly fresh.”

I went down to wait for Dr. Butcher, who arrived about twenty minutes later, black bag in hand. When he and I entered the room upstairs, Philip was busily taking photos of Steve’s injuries and said, “I’m going to have my brother-in-law’s ass in jail for a very long time over this.”

Dr. Butcher directed the two of us to turn Steve over on his side so that he could examine his back, which was also a mass of bruises, and Philip took pictures of Steve’s back, as well. After a few minutes spent taking vital signs and listening with his stethoscope, the doctor pulled Steve’s shorts down to check the rest of him.

We all stared in shock at Steve’s groin. One of his testicles had swollen to the size of a small orange, and the other one was almost as bad. Philip said, “Damn, he’s going to pay for this.” He began snapping picture after picture while the examination continued. Finally, the doctor seemed satisfied and directed us to slip Steve’s shorts the rest of the way off and pull the covers back up over him.

He looked at Jeff and Rob and said, “You two brought him here?”

“Yes, Sir,” they said.

“When did this happen?”

“About ten o’clock last night, Louisiana time,” Jeff said. “Steve’s parents were out of town, and I was staying with him. His dad came back unexpectedly and caught us fooling around. He went into a rage, hitting and kicking Steve, and you don’t want to know the awful names he called Steve. I think he would have killed him if I hadn’t hit him over the head with a brass bookend hard enough to knock him out for a bit. While he was out cold, I dressed and got Steve’s clothes back on him and took him out to my car. I wanted to take him to the hospital, but he wouldn’t let me. He just kept saying over and over, ‘Take me to Atlanta, I’ll be safe with Uncle Philip and Uncle Charles’, so I called my brother Rob, and he printed out the directions on MapQuest. Then I drove Steve to my house, Rob got in the car, and we hauled ass for Atlanta.”

“How long has he been out of it?” Dr. Butcher said.

“He was moaning and sort of babbling for a couple of hours. We stopped at a truck stop and got him some Tylenol for the pain, and he finally passed out a couple of hours ago or maybe a little longer. I don’t know whether he passed out from the pain or what. We don’t fool around with drugs or alcohol or anything like that.”

Dr. Butcher said, “He probably has a mild concussion, but I need to examine him when he wakes up. In the meantime, don’t give him anything else for pain. I need him to be conscious and relatively alert before I can make a final diagnosis.” He paused, then added, “Charles, do you have an ice pack?”

“Yes, we do,” I said.

“Good. Get it and fill it with ice and put it on his genitals. It will help the swelling in his testicles go down.”

Jeff said, “Doctor, is he going to be all right?”

“I don’t see why not. He’s young and appears to be healthy. However, I’ll withhold final judgment until he comes to and I can talk to him.”

I said, “Jeff, Rob, is there anyone that you need to call right now?”

“No, Sir,” Rob said. “Our folks are out of town, and we keep in touch by cell phone.”

“Good. You both look like you could use some sleep, so let me show you to a couple of guest rooms. Then I’ll get going on the ice pack. I’m a lawyer, and I’ll want to get a recorded statement from both of you later today when you’re awake and rested, okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” they said. I took them down the hall and got them settled in two of the unused bedrooms, then returned to Steve’s room.

Dr. Butcher was just closing his bag when I got there, so I said, “Is he going to be all right, do you think? You weren’t just saying that for the boys’ benefit, I hope.”

“Subject to an examination when he’s conscious, I should think so. These things nearly always look worse than they are, although I don’t mean to minimize the seriousness of his injuries. You wouldn’t believe how much of this sort of thing we see.”

I walked back downstairs with him. As he turned to go, he said, “Charles, call me the minute he wakes up, and I’ll come back and check him over again. And Charles—get the son of a bitch that did this.”

“You can count on that,” I said.