he’s seen enough. I tell him that there’s a lot more and that he should see all of it before making a judgment.
He tells me that he doesn’t need to see any more and that I’ve done an outstanding job uncovering this unfortunate situation. I relax a little now that I think he believes me. Then he drops the bomb.
He tells me that he thought that he had covered his tracks better than this. My jaw just dropped. He goes on to say how impressed he is with my diligence, and he doubts that anyone else could have figured out what he was up to. Burt says that I define the phrase “too smart for your own good.”
I’m speechless at his admission. I did not expect this and I couldn’t figure out why he was so calm when he had just told me that he had stolen almost $2 million dollars from the firm. Then, unfortunately, I found out why he wasn’t worried.
It seems that even though he didn’t think he would be caught, he had protected himself in the unlikely event that something like this happened. He told me that he had created a cybertrail that he could point in the direction of anyone he chose. Right now, the leading candidate was me.
I was told that I had a choice. One, I could take my story to the authorities and put my evidence up against his and see who the courts believed. Or two, I could have sex with him then point the finger at whoever I wanted to take the fall. If I chose option two, I could remain at the firm, be on a fast track to partner, and he might even cut me in on some of the money. Either way, there was no chance that anything would lead back to him.
The choice was mine , but I had to make it right then. There was no waiting, and once I decided, there was no turning back. No way was I going to burst into tears and give him the satisfaction of beating me. Crying wouldn’t have helped me with a bastard like that anyway. I told him that he could go fuck himself, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it. Then I said that I would take my chances with the authorities.
He just shook his head and waved me away. I cleaned out my desk as my coworkers looked on in bewilderment. I couldn’t make eye contact and didn’t say a word to anyone as I left the building, went back to my apartment, and waited for the inevitable to happen.
When I got home , I finally let go and had a good long cry. I called my folks and told them what had happened and what was likely to happen in the morning. They offered to come up to Columbia, but I told them not to and that I would call the next day once the wheels of injustice were rolling.
I woke up early a nd tried to look for lawyers online, but no one jumped out at me. I didn’t even know what kind of lawyer to get—who handles this type of case? I figured that I could just get a public defender to handle the bail part, and then I’d find someone cheap.
Just after 6:30 there was a knock at my door. I answered it, and there were two policemen standing there. They asked if I was Katherine Matthews. I told them I was, and they said that I was under arrest for the crime of embezzlement. They handcuffed me, put me in a squad car, and took me, as they say, downtown.
I was booked and fingerprinted , then placed in a holding cell with an interesting bunch of folks to wait for my turn with the judge. Things were looking up. I would be in front of the judge before lunch. I met with a public defender and explained in very broad terms what my defense was. She seemed to understand the case well enough in the few minutes that we had together.
I went before the judge , and the firm’s lawyer was there. The charges were read and I agreed that I understood them and I pled not guilty. The lawyer for Goodman and Rodgers asked that I not be allowed bail, as I should be considered a flight risk. Because I allegedly had an offshore account with almost two million dollars in it. The judge said that whether or not I had access to that money had yet to be determined in a court of law. He
He tells me that he doesn’t need to see any more and that I’ve done an outstanding job uncovering this unfortunate situation. I relax a little now that I think he believes me. Then he drops the bomb.
He tells me that he thought that he had covered his tracks better than this. My jaw just dropped. He goes on to say how impressed he is with my diligence, and he doubts that anyone else could have figured out what he was up to. Burt says that I define the phrase “too smart for your own good.”
I’m speechless at his admission. I did not expect this and I couldn’t figure out why he was so calm when he had just told me that he had stolen almost $2 million dollars from the firm. Then, unfortunately, I found out why he wasn’t worried.
It seems that even though he didn’t think he would be caught, he had protected himself in the unlikely event that something like this happened. He told me that he had created a cybertrail that he could point in the direction of anyone he chose. Right now, the leading candidate was me.
I was told that I had a choice. One, I could take my story to the authorities and put my evidence up against his and see who the courts believed. Or two, I could have sex with him then point the finger at whoever I wanted to take the fall. If I chose option two, I could remain at the firm, be on a fast track to partner, and he might even cut me in on some of the money. Either way, there was no chance that anything would lead back to him.
The choice was mine , but I had to make it right then. There was no waiting, and once I decided, there was no turning back. No way was I going to burst into tears and give him the satisfaction of beating me. Crying wouldn’t have helped me with a bastard like that anyway. I told him that he could go fuck himself, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to do it. Then I said that I would take my chances with the authorities.
He just shook his head and waved me away. I cleaned out my desk as my coworkers looked on in bewilderment. I couldn’t make eye contact and didn’t say a word to anyone as I left the building, went back to my apartment, and waited for the inevitable to happen.
When I got home , I finally let go and had a good long cry. I called my folks and told them what had happened and what was likely to happen in the morning. They offered to come up to Columbia, but I told them not to and that I would call the next day once the wheels of injustice were rolling.
I woke up early a nd tried to look for lawyers online, but no one jumped out at me. I didn’t even know what kind of lawyer to get—who handles this type of case? I figured that I could just get a public defender to handle the bail part, and then I’d find someone cheap.
Just after 6:30 there was a knock at my door. I answered it, and there were two policemen standing there. They asked if I was Katherine Matthews. I told them I was, and they said that I was under arrest for the crime of embezzlement. They handcuffed me, put me in a squad car, and took me, as they say, downtown.
I was booked and fingerprinted , then placed in a holding cell with an interesting bunch of folks to wait for my turn with the judge. Things were looking up. I would be in front of the judge before lunch. I met with a public defender and explained in very broad terms what my defense was. She seemed to understand the case well enough in the few minutes that we had together.
I went before the judge , and the firm’s lawyer was there. The charges were read and I agreed that I understood them and I pled not guilty. The lawyer for Goodman and Rodgers asked that I not be allowed bail, as I should be considered a flight risk. Because I allegedly had an offshore account with almost two million dollars in it. The judge said that whether or not I had access to that money had yet to be determined in a court of law. He
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