Surviving: Drunk Drivers - Gutter Politics and Police Corruption
by Raymond D. Schaffer
An Excerpt
He was an evil man. Incredibly cruel and vindictive, possessed by multiple personalities and a master of deception. At two in the afternoon I heard his demonic voice on my answering machine. "Director? I want you to come to my office at three- thirty." Instantly, my heart began to race forcing a surge of adrenaline through my veins. My mind flooded with trepidation as every muscle in my body became tense. A thin layer of perspiration coated the palms of my hands. My breathing became shallower and more rapid as I started to pace my office floor. Something bad was about to happen to me and there wasn't a thing I could do about it.
With the three-thirty encounter growing closer my shattered nerves wouldn't let me sit still so I headed for the men's room in the gymnasium. I needed to isolate myself so that I could think and calm myself down before going to his office. As I entered the gym I looked around to make sure no one else was there. Then, I walked slowly inside closing and locking the door behind me. Standing between the toilet and the wall I pressed my back against the wall, lowered my head and covered my face with my hands. He was going to interfere with my life again and I didn't know how to handle it. My heart pounded violently inside of me.
As I stood with my back pressed firmly against the wall the pressure in my chest continued to build and my stomach was in knots. "What should I do?" I whispered to myself. "I can't keep living like this." I prayed, "Please Lord, help me survive this encounter. I don't know how much more of this I can take, so please, Lord, help me."
Standing in the men's room for what seemed like hours and with my heart pounding, I forced myself to go back to my office. There, I tried sitting down at my desk and doing some work but my thoughts were completely focused on his insatiable need for vengeance and what was about to happen to me. I paced again.
At three-twenty five I took several deep breaths to try and calm myself down and headed for his office. My heart was still pounding violently in my chest and my palms, back and underarms were now moistened with sweat. "Don't give the son-of-a-bitch the satisfaction of seeing you like this," I thought to myself as I walked down the hallway. "Don't let the fucker do this to you. Whatever happens you can handle it."
Before I entered the outer office where his secretary was, I turned on my pocket recorder that I kept in my shirt pocket. If I was about to get screwed by the prick I wanted it on tape. As I entered the outer office I saw that his office door was closed so I told the secretary that he wanted to see me. I then sat stiffly in a chair trying desperately not to show my anxiety. It wasn't two minutes later that the other one walked out. The other prick who, for the past sixteen months, had enjoyed screwing with my life too. To me, he was nothing more than a glorified records clerk. Someone who got to be where he was due to the hard work of others. Completely ignoring me, he walked into his office and got right on the phone. I strained to listen to him speak and as I did so, heard him ask, "Are you going to bring him in now and do it? Okay."
At three-forty five I was finally called into his office. There he sat behind his desk engaged in a casual conversation with Larry Fischer, the jail administrator and my former office partner about a hotel room he once stayed in and how he, "didn't sleep good."
"Am I interrupting," I said with a strong, confident tone as I walked farther into his office.
"Oh. No-no-no-no," he replied nervously. "I was trying to think of something when you popped in. I look off when I can't think of something. And I have to look the other way."
Without any further comments to me he continued his conversation with Fischer, leaving me to sit there, waiting and wondering what he was going to do to me. With the tension inside of me increasing, I struggled to maintain my composure. I couldn't let him notice my nervousness.
Finally, after several minutes, he abruptly ended his casual chat with Fischer. He then turned to me, took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and began.
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