Always Standing Steady

Now Nothing Has Changed

070500SJUL16: July 7, 2016. 0500. Topeka, Kansas, United States of America.

I sat on the couch with my stubs thrown most of the way over Ezra's lap. He was alternating between tracing his fingers across my thighs, reading off James's emails in funny voices, and eating his slice of the German pancake that I had made earlier. Nazirah and Sicily, despite the length of the other couch, managed to be practically on top of each other across from us. Diego had taken to the floor in an effort to be as far away from all the PDA as he could get.

Once Nazirah downloaded copies of all of James's important documents, we began the lengthy process of reading through everything. I had a paper copy of his sales records and was comparing that to his financial statements. Ezra was reading through his emails. Nazirah was on her laptop looking at the documents from his personal computer--and between documents, she fed Sicily bites of her oatmeal. Sicily--between bites and softly spoken words in Arabic--looked more into the watch we found. Cut off, to be more accurate. Diego from his place on the floor had James's personal financial statements which he was attacking with no fewer than eleven highlighters.

The company records were on the straight and narrow. I found that certain discounts were given to a few rifle clubs of choice and many NRA chapters were greatly overcharged. Dick move, sure, but not illegal. More than that, James was very attentive about keeping all of his vehicles in top condition; a purchase of more windshield wiper fluid for one of the company trucks was even accounted for. As it turned out, all of his employees were paid extremely well.

I scanned the last page of my copy and tossed it onto the coffee table. "Nothing illegal here."

"Same here," Ezra agreed, setting down his copy of the emails. "I suspect that him and Mia Stone are sleeping together. That's just weird, not illegal."

"I think I found something," Diego murmured, flipping to a page that was almost all orange. "He is paying out of pocket for a whole lot of personal security. He has four full time men just as his own personal security. He's also paying a shit ton in child support and to Elle's dance studio.... Wait, this doesn't add up." He handed the packet around. "Look at the total there. There is nearly a hundred thousand dollars that are unaccounted for."

When the packet was handed to me, I saw that, indeed, that much was unaccounted for.

"What does it say for charitable donations?" Nazirah asked suddenly and turned her laptop around to show us all why she was asking. On his computer was a digital invitation to a charity party.

"About thirty thousand," Diego answered from memory.

Nazirah brought up another document for us to see. This one was his receipt from the party. It showed his total donation. "That money wasn't donated then. All of his charity work is accounted for."

Ezra spoke up without looking away from an email print out, "Elle has a Twitter account. Her username is Ellephant001. See what she tweeted on June 23rd."

I pulled out my phone and logged onto Nazirah's Twitter account to check--she was the only one out of us who used social media. I scrolled through her tweets to that exact day. Elle had tweeted a selfie showing her black eye and broken nose; by the looks of it, she was in a hospital. Her caption read:

Thanks for all the support! Just got discharged. Ready for more

I held out my phone to show the tweet then read some of the responses that I noticed, "'I can't wait to see you, L!' 'Back to school on Monday! #westandfortopeka.' And 'Guns aren't so fun on the other end of one. This is why we need gun control.'" I found a link to the full news story and announced what I read, "the Friday before her tweet, a shooter entered the school after hours and attacked Elle in the dressing room before her dance recital. He fired off four shots, two hit a wall, one wounded a teacher, and the other another student. Shooter was a graduated student who," I scowled at what the newspaper had the nerve to write, "'had a bright future.' Apparently he is claiming that he was paid to attack Elle. He won't tell who paid him, but the suspect is seventeen year old Brandon Haden, Elle's ex-boyfriend. She broke up with him two days before the shooting, apparently he has priors and went off his medication when he couldn't get a new prescription. Elle made a statement defending him, she said that she knew he would never try to hurt her. She emphasized that he is not a violent offender, just unpredictable. He's dead. He died in police custody, they say it is a suicide."