Lives Changed

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The people do not exist except in my mind. This work is copyrighted and I ask that you do not copy, post or electronically download without my express permission. If you are too young to be in here or it is illegal in your state then please leave, as I do not wish anything bad to happen to you. I also wish to thank Larry in California and my special friend in Florida Miguel Sanchez

The Characters of Jr, Ace and Bennie are use with the permission of Miguel Sanchez.

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Lives Changed. Chapter 5-B: Prisoners and Gunshots

After Elizabeth was placed into the Marshal's van and secured, Tony stood on the sidewalk and spoke with one of the Marshals. "Marshal Corvac, she is to be taken to the federal detention center," Tony told him.

"Sir, I don't understand. Normally we don't get involved in child abuse cases like this. Can you tell me why this one is different?" Corvac asked.

"Because the `child' involved is under federal protection," Tony replied as he handed Corvac's the completed arrest report.

Going over the report, Corvac looked up at Tony. "Sir, is this right? You want her charged with disturbing the peace and child abuse, and you want the charges enhanced as a hate crime?" Corvac asked, a slight look of shock on his face.

"Yes, and if you run her through CI&I (Criminal Information and Identification) you might find other charges," Tony replied as he walked away to join Donnie and the boys.

Maurice Marshall's home is a cozy suburban ranch-style situated on a cul-de-sac. The two-story house is painted white with green trim, and hidden behind a high wooden fence. The insides are modestly furnished.

Maurice's 16-year-old son Jamie was upstairs in his room working on his computer when he heard his neighbor Brady come into the house, hollering for his dad. "Maurice, are you home?"

"Yes, Brady I am in the front room and I have something for you," Maurice called out.

"Okay, you got any beer in the place?" Brady asked.

"Should be some in the fridge, bring me one also."

Walking into the front room, Brady handed Maurice one of the cold bottles. "Here, old man," Brady grinned. "Is that for me?" he asked as he pointed to a large package sitting on the floor in front of the couch.

"Yup, exactly what you asked for."

Brady picked up the package and carefully opened it, revealing a slightly used Winchester .30-30 Model 1894.

"Sweet! Did you get the ammo for it also?" Brady asked as he caressed the weapon.

"Yes, there's a box of shells is in the desk drawer. You might have to sight it in. Do you know when you're going after the bastard?"

As the two were talking, Jamie slipped downstairs and was standing in the hallway outside the front room listening to what was being said.

"Well, first I have to see where the Daniels' home is, what's around it and plan an escape route once the kid's dead."

"Well, just don't take too long. When the kid is dead then this strike will be over, we get all that money and everything goes back to the way it was."

"Malcolm won't even know what hit him."

Maurice was going to say something else when the jarring ring of his cell phone broke his thoughts. "Marshall here," he answered quietly.

"Maurice this is Collin, I thought you should know that someone is looking at Elizabeth Daniels' file," Collin Danvers said.

"Do you know who it is? Surely it has to be law enforcement," Maurice wondered aloud. "Can you find out?"

"I can try, but you know that if it isn't someone locally there may be no way of finding out."

"You have to find out. They have to be doing it online, so do something. You're the cop," Maurice said as fear started to show in his voice.

"I can try, but I won't make any promises. It could be the fed's looking, and that's not good. Now, you call David and I will try to get the governor on the line," Danvers said.

"Yeah I'll do that. Tell me, are you going to be able to help keep the cops away from the Daniels' neighborhood when it's needed?"

"Don't know. Just keep me posted as to when things are going to happen."

"Let's just say it will be within the next week."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do."

While Maurice was busy talking on his cell phone, Brady sat caressing the rifle while thinking he at last had the tool to get revenge for his brother and his friends.

Jamie quietly slipped back upstairs. He had heard almost everything and now was unsure what to do. Sure, he was best friends with the three other bullies because their families were all neighbors, and he was usually bullying others right along with them. Had he gotten there one minute earlier he would have sided with them and ended up in the hospital, too. However, seeing Malcolm stand up to them and the support he got from the other students got him thinking that not everyone liked bullies. In fact, it appeared that bullies are more disliked than liked. Yeah, Malcolm beat the crap out of his friends and put them in the hospital, but what his dad and Brady were going to do was wrong.

Jamie was so confused he didn't know what to do. He wanted to be there for his bully friends and maybe help them kick Malcolm's butt, but at the same time his new awareness of the lack of popularity of bullies in school was making him think it was time to give up that image.

It was just after the Marshall family had finished dinner and Jamie was back in his room that he made his decision: he had to try and warn Malcolm. The best way he could think of doing that was to stick a note in Malcolm's mailbox. Taking out a pen and his notebook, Jamie quickly wrote out what he had heard his dad and Brady talking about, even to the point of telling Malcolm he had heard his mother's name mentioned.

Once the note was written, Jamie quietly slipped out through his bedroom window, and down and off the roof over the patio. He quickly looked around to make sure no one had seen or heard him, then took off running. He knew where Malcolm lived, and he would have to take a bus to get even close.

Three blocks from Malcolm's house, Jamie hopped off the bus and slowly walked down the street. From the corner of the block he could see Malcolm's house, the porch lights shining brightly. Jamie could see people walking around both inside and outside the house so he just watched for a few minutes. Determined to get it over with, Jamie carefully made his way to Malcolm's driveway. He was just about to open the mailbox when he felt a presence behind him. Slowly turning, Jamie saw a tall man standing there, dressed in black but his blond hair was shining under the streetlights. The way the man was standing, his face was in shadows from the lights.

"Would you please tell me what you are doing there?" the man spoke, almost in a whisper.

"I... I was trying to leave a note for Malcolm," Jamie answered nervously.

"Why?" the agent said softly, stepping a bit closer, trying to keep the kid calm and not to scare him into running.

"That's my business. Who are you?" Jamie said, losing some of the fear he first felt, his bully brashness returning.

"Actually, now it has become my business. As for who I am, you can call me Donnie. I work for the Secret Service and am assigned to protect Malcolm and his family," Donnie stated. "Now tell me why you were trying to leave Malcolm a note."

"I can't. Look, just take this and give it to Malcolm okay?" Jamie said and handed Donnie the note.

Donnie quickly read over the note as Jamie stood there shifting his weight from leg to leg like a small child that needs to pee. "I have to go now," Jamie finally said.

"No, kid, I think you should come up to the house and speak with both Malcolm and me," Donnie said. "Besides, as this has to do with his mother I think my boss should hear it also."

"I don't want any trouble here or at home. I mean, I'm not even supposed to be anywhere around Malcolm according to my dad, and he will kill me if he ever finds out I was here. But I heard that stuff, about hurting Malcolm and, well, I thought I should try to warn him. And stop calling me kid—my name is Jamie."

"Well Jamie, come with me, please, and we can talk inside. I bet you would like some hot chocolate, and I know Malcolm has some ready about this time of night."

"I don't know, but I guess I don't have a choice."

"You do have a choice; you're not under arrest. After reading your note though, I think it would be for the best for all concerned if you talk to us."

Gently taking Jamie by the shoulder, Donnie started to guide the boy up the driveway. As they were walking, Donnie quickly called Tony to let him know that he was coming inside and that he had a guest with him.

Inside the house, when Tony's phone chirped he left the front room where he was sitting watching the boys playing their PS3. Going into the kitchen, he listened to Donnie and suggested that Jamie be brought into the kitchen through the back door.

Hanging up, Tony walked back into the front room where he softly spoke to Malcolm. "Donnie's coming in and he has someone with him. Would you take your brothers and go upstairs and stay in your room, at least until I see what is going on," Tony asked.

"Sure, it's their bath time anyways," Malcolm answered as he turned and gently picked up Aaron. "Come on, bro, time to get you washed and ready for bed."

"Can I shower with Zeke?" Aaron asked.

"You'll have to ask him," Malcolm answered with a smile.

While Malcolm was taking his brothers upstairs, Donnie arrived at the back door with Jamie. Still gently holding onto Jamie's shoulder, Donnie led the shaking boy into the kitchen where Tony was waiting. At 6 feet 4 inches and 210 pounds of solid muscle, Tony was an imposing figure.

"Come in and have a seat," Tony softly invited, his voice easing Jamie's fears a bit.

"Tony, this is Jamie; he has something to tell us, and I think you had better read this," Donnie said as he handed Tony the note he took from Jamie. Tony quickly read the note and called Malcolm to come back downstairs.

Aaron and Zeke had showered and we getting into bed, so Malcolm wished them good-night, switched off the light and headed back down into the kitchen. As he stepped through the door he saw Jamie sitting between Donnie and Tony.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Malcolm screamed as he saw Jamie sitting there.

"Malcolm, calm down." Donnie spoke, taking the note back from Tony. "Jamie came here to warn you."

"Warn me about what? That his bully buddies—his dad's goons—are going to try and go after my friends and me again? I don't think so! I don't think his dad allows him to be anyplace around here," Malcolm answered, but with a bit less fire in his voice.

"Malcolm, I know that I can't make up for my past with the other bullies, or what my father and his friends have done to you, but believe me, I am sorry," Jamie calmly spoke as he stared at the kitchen table.

"Why should I believe you?" Malcolm queried.

"You don't have to, just please read the note," Jamie answered. "Donnie, thanks for the hot chocolate, but I had better get home before they miss me."

"No, Jamie, I need you to tell Tony and me everything you can remember. If you are as sorry as you say, then prove it and help Malcolm," Donnie replied.

In a cold jail cell, a lone figure lay on the steel bunk, the thin blanket pulled up around his neck as he tried to sleep. Jack Van Grant knew that he was going to prison for a long time. This was his third strike and Jack knew that life behind bars was what he was facing. Jack had been hired to shoot and kill Malcolm Daniels, but when the time came he couldn't do it, so he aimed for the kids shoulder. With all the security in the courthouse Jack was arrested within minutes and charged with attempted murder and possession of a deadly weapon by a felon. Jack had spoken with a lawyer and asked him to try and get him a deal, but the District Attorney had been stonewalling him. Finally Jack told his lawyer to contact the feds and he would talk with them.

Over at the Police Department Headquarters, Collin Danvers had just started his shift for the day and was sitting at his desk trying to find out who was trying to access Elizabeth Daniels' file. As his computer was doing that search, Danvers thought about the prisoner Jack Van Grant who was being held in the county jail. Danvers had heard he was trying to cut a deal and was going to talk with the feds because the DA wouldn't deal. Danvers knew if Van Grant did cut a deal with the feds that he and a lot of others were going to become guests at the Black Bar Hotel, a.k.a. the federal penitentiary. Danvers had too much to lose: his position as a 15 year veteran of the police force, his pension at 20 years of service, and, lastly, he was looking at a share of a great deal of money if things worked out. Van Grant running his mouth could ruin it all.

Leaving his desk, Danvers went and grabbed a coffee, and then headed into the back of the building where the temporary holding cells were. He heard that the drug squad had just busted a small group of dealers and he wanted to see if he knew any of them, although it really didn't matter. He could talk one of them into getting things done when he was transferred to the main jail. The only unknown was what the prisoner would want in return.

Albert Cortez stood an even 5 feet tall and weighted maybe 150 pounds. His long black hair was a greasy mess and his eyes had a far away look to them. One glance at him and anyone could tell the guy was stoned. Danvers had an idea and asked the guard to bring Cortez to one of the interrogation rooms so that Danvers could speak with him.

What Danvers didn't know was that while he was away from his office his computer search had set off alarms within both the Secret Service and US Marshal's computer centers in Washington, DC and agents were trying to see who it was that was trying to access their computers.

Washington was its usual wet self, with the forecast for even more rain. At the White House, things seemed to be going rather slow so Ace was busy going over some files as Bennie was doing his homework.

"Ace, why is it colleges seem to pile on more homework than high schools?" Bennie asked as Ace stood to get a coffee.

"I don't know, but I remember thinking the same way when I was in college," Ace answered. Bennie was about to say more when Ace's phone chirped. "Mason."

JR, the NCIS resident computer genius, and now a member of the secret service, was working in the West Wing office when a security alarm went off on his computer. He quickly got on his phone. "Ace, can you come down here please?"

Ace finished his coffee then headed out the West Wing door from the residence, talking as he walked. "What's going on, buddy?"

"Someone is trying to access our main database," JR said as he was frantically typing on his keyboard.

"Who?" Ace asked as he entered the West Wing."

"I don't know yet, Ace. Right now I'm just trying to lock down the firewall."

Ace ended the call as he walked into the office. "Did you get it locked down?"

JR was still busy typing away on his keyboard. "Finally!" JR started.

"Whoever was at it was pretty sloppy and left a trail so big an amateur could follow it."

"So, how did you stop him?" Ace asked as he sat down beside his friend.

"I added several layers to the firewall with an encryption that's almost hack proof." JR said as he continued to type away.

"Almost hack proof?" Ace asked.

"Yeah, it's got a dozen layers and each gets progressively harder and I even have added a nasty little surprise at the second layer."

"A nasty surprise?" Ace inquired.

JR started laughing. "Yeah, I added a hidden virus that will totally wipe out their computer's memory and send me everything they had on it."

"That data won't be infected, will it?" Ace asked.

"No, it'll just be a copy of everything on their hard drive," JR said, still typing.

"You're a nasty little devil," Ace said laughing. "Now, who tried to hack into our system?"

JR was about to answer when the land line rang. "Special Agent Mason speaking."

"Agent Mason, this is Director Samuel Forbes from the Marshal's Service."

"Yes, sir, what can I do for you?" Ace replied.

"I was just informed that an attempt was made on our computer data base."

"Oh no, not you too," Ace said shocked.

"Us too?" Mr. Forbes asked.

"Yes, sir, whoever it was tried to get into ours also, but one of our tech agents was able to stop him before they managed to access our files."

"Sadly, we weren't that fortunate and a few files were compromised."

"How sensitive was the data?"

"Not all that sensitive. They got a roster of our DC agents but no personal information such as their addresses or phone numbers. May I ask our tech to call your tech?"

"Hold on a minute, sir," Ace asked as he muted the call and turned to JR.

"I have the Director of the Marshal's Service on the phone. Their computers were hacked."

"God, how bad?"

"They got a little but nothing really sensitive."

"I take it they need our help now?" JR asked giggling.

"Yeah, I think they do."

"Sure, I'll help them," JR said. "Hey, my back trace is complete."

"Okay, who tried to hack us?" Ace asked.

"The computer is in Naples, Florida" JR said.

Ace started to do a slow boil. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

Ace uncovered the mouthpiece on the phone. "Sure, Director, have your man call here and have him ask for Special Agent JR Carl."

Ace hung up, then several minutes later the phone rang again. JR answered it and between the two men, they added several layers of protection to the Marshals Service's main computer.

As Danvers was busy talking with Cortez and Ace and JR were busy fixing their computer problems, Brady Martin was driving around Naples in the area where Malcolm lived looking for back alleys and places he could hide if he ran into any trouble.

Brady found a vacant house that was just behind the Daniels' home. Breaking in, Brady scoured the place and came to the conclusion that the best place to watch Malcolm would be from the small bedroom that overlooked their back yard. Brady figured he would have to take his shot either late at night or first thing in the morning so that he would be guaranteed an escape. What Brady really wanted was the layout of the inside of the Daniels' house, although from where he sat in the small bedroom it looked like the only two places to get the kid were either the kitchen or the bathroom. For the next week Brady waited and watched from the window and learned everything he could about Malcolm's movements and habits as well as those of the security teams.

For Malcolm it was also a week of waiting. He knew that the following Sunday he, Patrick and his little brothers would be flying off to Washington. Tony had been in constant contact with Ace and had two rooms arranged at the residence for the family.

Patrick was spending more time with Malcolm and this was starting to cause some problems for him at home. The Wednesday before everyone was to go to Washington, Patrick had just come home from spending the morning marching with the striking students and spending a few hours over at Malcolm's when his parents called him into the living room.

"Patrick, we need to talk with you." His mother said as soon as Patrick sat down.

"What is it?" Patrick asked.

"Well, we would like it if you would spend a bit more time here at home. We know you have the strike going, but if you're not striking you're always over at Malcolm's," his mother spoke.

"And what's the problem? You both like him, you've never said anything before, so why now?" Patrick replied.

"We do like him, it's just that we don't see much of you anymore and, well we would like to."

"Mom, Dad, until this strike is over, yes, I am going to spend time over there. His ideas and help are what we needed, you know that."

"I think there is more to it than that Patrick," his dad stated.

"Just what the hell are you saying?" Patrick snapped.

"Son, take it easy, we're not saying anything, we just want to know if there is more to this friendship than you're telling us."

"There is nothing more to tell you. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to see if my suit is clean," Patrick said as he stood and walked away.

His dad, seeing the way Patrick's face looked, got up and followed Patrick into his room.

"Son, can we talk?" his dad asked as he stood at the doorway.

"Not right now, Dad, I have to get ready for this weekend," Patrick replied.

I think it's important, that we talk, Son. There is something I think you need to know that not even your mom knows.

"Fine, come in and close the door then."

Patrick's father closed the door then sat down on the bed, then motioned for his son to sit down beside him. Sitting, Patrick looked at his dad, "Well what's so important?" Patrick asked showing a bit of fear in his voice.

"Son, I'm on your side here. You see, when I was your age I became very infatuated with a boy in my class. He was in my thoughts every minute of every day," his dad spoke with a soft gentle whisper.

"Yeah, so what does that have to do with me?" Patrick snapped starting to fear that his dad knew all about him.

"Because, Son, I know the signs when two people are in love."

"Love? What are you talking about? I'm not in love with anyone,"

Patrick blurted, trying to hide his true feelings.

His father knelt in front of his son and looked him in the eyes. "Can you honestly tell me that you and Malcolm are not in love?"

Not really wanting to say anything, but knowing that his dad wasn't about to give in, Patrick finally admitted it. "Yes, Dad, I do love Malcolm—a lot.

His father smiled then pulled his youngest son into his arms as Patrick started to cry.

"Son, my lover and I were together for about a year when his parents caught us kissing. His father went ballistic and started beating the hell out of both of us."

"So why are you telling me this? It's not like I need to know."

"I just want you to know that I understand more about loving someone of the same sex than you probably thought possible. I know the problems it can cause and I want to be here for you if you ever need me."

"Dad, I need time to think this over. Can we talk more after dinner, please?"

"Alright, Son, I guess that was a shock and lot to digest at one time. Just please don't let on to your mother know anything I've told you, alright?"

"I was taught better than to tell secrets, so no worries."

"Normally I wouldn't worry, Son, but your mother is quite homophobic. Do you understand what that means?"

"I think I understand, but I am not telling anyone anything."

"Son, it means your mother hates everything to do with gay people. She'd divorce me and Lord knows what she would try to do with you. You're my son and God help anyone that ever tries to hurt you—and that goes for your boyfriend, too."

"So she could become like Malcolm's mother?"

"What has she done, Son? Has she tried to hurt either one of you? I'll kill her is she has," his voice pitched with anger.

"No, she's just being a bitch. I know you don't like that word, but she is. Did you know she was arrested the other day for slapping Malcolm?"

"I didn't know that, Son. Just be careful, and if anyone gives either of you a hard time, call me right away."

"You're funny dad! I think if anything happened Malcolm would—well, let's not go there."

As his dad started to leave the room, Patrick coughed and raised his arms out to his father. His father turned back, accepted the hug, kissed him on the cheek, and whispered, "I love you, Son."

"I love you too, Dad," Patrick smiled, "What's for dinner, do you know?"

"I haven't a clue."

"Umm, can we order pizza for tonight?"

As Patrick and his dad were talking, Brady Martin was putting his sleeping bag and a few snacks into the house from which he would try and shoot Malcolm. This would be his home for the next four nights, unless he got a chance to take the shot before then. His Winchester was leaning against the wall, adding the faint smell of gun oil to the musty air. Brady sat at the window looking into Malcolm's back yard, watching the Secret Service agents and timing their movements. From his vantage point Brady saw no sign of Malcolm, but he knew the kid was at home.

Malcolm, for his part, had spent most of the week with his brothers. He had taken them swimming and skating, and today they even had a chance to go sailing with his dad and Papa. Anchored in a quiet cove, the three boys swam and played in the water for a few hours until it was time for a picnic on the beach. It was almost four o'clock when they all climbed back onto the boat and started for home.

"Can we go again?" Aaron asked, "It was lotta fun."

"I think we can arrange that," Papa said with a smile.

Friday night Patrick showed up for the weekend. Malcolm noticed he seemed a bit nervous, so, taking him by the hand, led him upstairs to his bedroom. Closing the door as they entered, Malcolm gave Patrick a hug and a gentle kiss on the lips.

"What's wrong, dude? You seem upset."

"Dad knows about us," Patrick started. "He kinda cornered me and, well, he's not upset or angry, because when he was our age he had a boyfriend too. Dad did tell me not to let mom know because she hates anything to do with gays."

"Then we won't tell her. Now chill out! We will have fun tomorrow and then Sunday we are off to Washington, remember?"

"How can I forget? That is all I have been thinking about most of the week."

"Which, having fun with me or going to Washington?" Malcolm asked, his eyes dancing and a big smile on his face.

When bedtime rolled around, Malcolm and Patrick were curled up together. They talked for a while, with a few gentle kisses thrown in. About midnight, Aaron came in and climbed in bed between them. No sooner had Aaron settled in than Zeke came in and he too joined in the snuggle as everyone drifted off to sleep.

Saturday morning Malcolm took everyone over to Mike's Place for breakfast and then the mall so they could get suits for their trip. The four boys spent the whole day out of the house enjoying themselves playing at the arcade and having a late lunch of all-you-can-eat pizza.

Saturday night was a repeat of the previous night's snuggle-fest.

Sunday morning everyone in the house was up early. Bags were being packed and breakfast made; there were four large pots of coffee going for the security teams. From his lookout in the abandoned house, Brady took note of all the activity next door and noticed through the bathroom window that Malcolm was in the shower. At last he had a clear shot. He picked up the Winchester, aimed through the shower window and pulled the trigger. He heard Malcolm scream as he dropped out of sight.

A lot more to come. Your comments welcome at

thewriter1@live.ca flames ignored.