Dressed to the Nines

He was always sophisticatedly dressed. Dressed to the nines, some would say. The suits he wore were made of the most luxurious material and tailored to his well muscled body. his shoes were hand crafted from the finest and most expensive Italian leather. Gold cuff linked matched the gold watch the only left his wrist when he showered. This man. This icon of wealth, was Robert Court, a very prominent lawyer. His “friends” as he called them, devotees in reality, called him Robin. Banish all thoughts of a comparison with the famous Robin Hood, for Master Court wasn’t known for his exceeding generosity. The nickname was ironic. The last remainder of his ex-wife.

    

Robert was a man who hoarded whatever money he didn’t spend on debauchery. Here was a man who frowned upon charity. One of those, all too common people, who stuck their noses up at the poor homeless who were forced to live on the streets. In fact, some of those homeless people were on the street because of him. One of his most well known cases involved a business who wanted to buy out a string of cheap apartments complexes that actually existed in a decent area of town. The people who lived in these buildings could afford nothing better. This was the only place they could live and Mister Court helped take it away from them. Now where poor people had struggled to make life bearable was a chain of strip joints and adult video stores.

 

It seemed he had it all. All the money he could want. The biggest house in the town. The perfect trophy wife who was addicted to the best painkillers that could be bought. His adorable twenty year old son who got off by beating his girlfriends. The perfect mistress and the perfect boyfriend. He had everything his black little heart could desire. That’s why it was so shocking when they found him lying in his swimming pool, his face blown off by a shiny new gun. Not only had he been killed it had been done right. So many people when blowing out someone’s brains out did it wrong. Placing the gun under their chin or to their temple offered them the possibility of living. Using simple psychology, the kill had  placed the gun to the back of his head. They’d made sure to destroy all the parts of his brain that were vital to life. It was the pool boy who’d discovered him, the very pool boy he engaged in carnal affairs with when he was bored with both his wife and mistress. The wife heard the screams and eventually called the cops.

 

The suspects in the crime were numerous. The mistress, the wife, his law partner, his son, the pool boy and many more. Everyone watched with eager eyes as they were all questioned. Dirty laundry aired. With sadism that only exist in American culture people actually began to place bets on the lives of the people who were being accused. After all Mister Court was one of the beloved figures that everyone hated so of course the person who killed him would be killed in return. It’s only just. An eye for an eye after all is what built this wonderful and moral country of ours. Tears were shed. The glitter tears of deceit. Everyone was guilty of many things. Adultery, battery, coercion, drug abuse, exploitation, and much more. But no one was guilty of murder. That was the one crime that none of the suspects had committed. The trail was televised. With disgust people watched as these people confessed to their sordid affairs, all the while maintaining there innocence. Hypocritically the nation glued their eyes to their lovely little brainwashing boxes. Priest preached about the corruption that had been revealed the night before in their morning services. Preached vehemently about those ‘sinners’ who all deserved to die and go to hell. And then the priest when and spent some alone time with the alter boys in their…rectory. Women clucked their tongues in groups when the son confessed that he had beaten his last girlfriend and his father had threatened to that simple fact to everyone. The women wondered what type of woman would fall for a man like that and then they went home to get eyes blacked for not having dinner ready. Senators gasped when the homosexual matter came out and then went to go feel up on their teenage messenger boys.

 

The whole nation was addicted. The trail became the nation’s heroine. Eagerly people pumped their veins full of poison, all for a momentary high. Finally it was decided that the pool boy had done it. It was obvious. He was delusional. Had been obsessed with Mister Court and that’s why he had made up all those stories about them spending time together. Going on vacations. Sharing a bed together. The pool boy was just a very good actor. His affections were never returned expect in his own sick fantasies. And that’s why he’d killed Master Court.

 

The pool boy’s death was also televised. One more time the nation tuned in breathlessly. Tears fell from his eyes as he was led to the table where he’d be strapped down. The needle that would pump the cocktail of lethal drugs into him. He pleaded his innocence. Everyone was angry at the vulgar display. He’d been found guilty. The courts were never wrong. At a minute past twelve, the pool boy began to die. When he was dead the nation tuned out and went back to their normal lives.

 

The next day the suicide note was found. The day after that the nation was once more up in arms, saying that they knew a mistake had been made all along.

 

God Bless the U.S.A.