Independence Day
INDEPENDENCE DAY
Joshua Benton could not imagine a more pleasant 4th of July weekend. The sky had
remained perfectly clear and blue while the afternoon temperature hovered around 83
degrees. The best thing about this weather for an East Coast transplant like Josh was that
it wasn’t even muggy outside. Such were the benefits of living in the mild Pacific
Northwest. He had spent all of Saturday grilling steaks in the backyard with his closest
friends and extended family. The older kids had tossed horseshoes and played badminton,
while the little ones that had sprung from his loins kept busy making castles in the sandbox
all afternoon. He and his wife Lindsey were extremely happy. They had every reason to
feel that way. Their lives were progressing together just as they had both hoped that they would.
Their two children were healthy and beautiful. Josh had risen to a leading administrative
position with the Portland chapter of Habitat For Humanity. The meager salary wasn’t
the greatest but somehow they always had everything that they ever needed and then
some. More homes were being built for Oregon’s low-income families than ever before
and that was something for Mr. Benton to feel good about. The stunning weather was the
main reason that the Bentons had chosen to venture out to the waterfront Independence
Day festivities, although eclectic musical entertainment factored into that decision as
well. Portland boasted the largest Blues Festival west of the Mississippi. Josh and
Lindsey were consummate music fans so they packed up the kids and a cooler and went
down to check out Sunday the 4th (which was the final day of the weekend long fest) and see
what all of the hubbub was about. There had been some concern over how the kids would
react to the massive fireworks display, which was scheduled for the concert’s conclusion.
Both four-year-old little Lisa and her big brother Timmy (age six) still had sensitive
eardrums. Joshua had opted to throw caution to the wind and go anyway. The most he
had been able to coax out of Lindsey was a reluctant agreement but that was just enough.
Now that they were frolicking by the Willamette River and sipping on ice-cold adult
beverages (Mr. Benton preferred the local Bridgeport ale while his wife was strictly a
Zinfandel gal), they were extremely glad that they had come. The kids were having a
great time and the music was truly spectacular. Joshua sighed with contentment as he
held his gorgeous wife close to him and rocked back and forth to the beat. Life had not
always been so simple. In fact, the past had gotten so complicated that he had been
forced to cunningly create the “Joshua Benton” identity. For you see, this was a man
who had lived a secret life. The question that always hovered near the surface of his
mind, no matter how hard he tried to sink it, was just how long those skeletons would
remain hidden in the closet.
Mr. Benton had the Christian name Todd Samuel Sann bestowed upon him by his
parents when he was born on a bitter cold winter morning in 1967. He enjoyed a mostly
pleasant and uneventful childhood in White Plains, New York. As the only son of a
wealthy attorney, it became apparent at an early age that he was expected to follow in
Dad’s footsteps. His father had emigrated from Germany in his mid-twenties, with a very rudimentary
knowledge of the English language. He was dirty and penniless when he stepped off the
docks at Ellis Island but would emerge as one of the brightest rising stars of affluent Westchester County
within a few short years. The ambitious immigrant put himself through law school (and became fluent
in English) while working so many odd jobs that he hardly slept during his early days in the USA. . With
extreme perseverance and determination, he laboriously built the prominent firm of Sann & Associates
from the ground up all by himself. It’s understandable then that he had high expectations for his son
Todd. Fortunately for Todd, his superior intelligence and motivated predisposition provided him with
the tools that were needed for such a challenge. He was a remarkable student with a keen intellect who
never let his father down. After graduating from Columbia Law School towards the top of his class, Todd
settled into his father’s practice for what should have been a long and promising career. However less
than a year after Todd passed the bar exam, he became immersed in a case that would have a dramatic
impact on his future. The case, which involved some measly misappropriation of funds, had seemed so
inconsequential at the time that the elder Mr. Sann had eagerly passed it over to Todd. He figured that it
would provide his son a good opportunity to familiarize with criminal proceedings since he had
thus far only been involved with private litigation. The matter pertained to a young
Sicilian by the name of Louis Antonelli, son of Mario Antonelli, a well-known New York
City businessman. Evidently, a few thousand dollars had come up missing during
Louie’s shift at an insurance payroll office. Since he was the supervisor in charge when
the theft had occurred, the company tried to pin it on Antonelli. Of course, both Louis
and Mario had maintained his innocence when discussing the incident with Sann &
Associates. Todd easily created a reasonable doubt in the prosecutions’ case and won a
full acquittal for his client. Since nine of the twelve jurors were ladies, the handsome
smooth talking attorney could probably have convinced them of just about anything.
Neither Todd nor his father bothered wondering why a family from New York City
would hire legal counsel in Westchester. Had they done so, they would have
undoubtedly realized that the Antonellis preferred to deal with someone who had no
knowledge of their background and the sort of “business” that they conducted. The
Antonellis were very pleased with Todd’s performance on the small time theft case. In
the months thereafter, they began to offer more and more work to the White Plains legal
office and they always requested Todd by name. He was so sheltered and naive at the
time (having been raised as a conservative Lutheran) that his father may as well have
tossed him to the wolves rather than put him in contact with the Antonelli family. Louis
was about the same age as Todd and the two got along rather well. They began spending
time together outside of work, which lead to private invitations to attend black tie affairs at the
Antonelli’s mansion on the beach at Montauk. Being an optimistic successful upstart, everyone liked the
dapper young attorney . Both Mario and Luigi (the two brothers that were the “heads of the family”)
gave Todd their blessing and started treating him like one of their own. Thus without planning it or even
realizing what had happened, he somehow became a mafia lawyer.
In the subsequent years following Todd’s introduction to the Antonellis, Sann &
Associates were swamped with petty theft and embezzlement cases. Todd represented
not only several people from the Antonelli family but also many others who were
affiliated. The family dealt with their more serious murder and kidnapping charges
through their high profile Manhattan lawyers though Todd was well aware of them. His
father, who was getting on in years, turned a blind eye to the whole situation. He seemed
to adopt a “don’t ask and don’t tell” policy while the questionable funds continued to
pour into his office. Todd never lost a case for the Antonellis, which led them to
nickname him the “Golden Boy”. He received extravagant gifts from them, ranging from
a gold Rolex watch to $10,000 in cash. Todd tried to refuse these gifts but the family always
insisted, calling them “bonuses” for all of his hard work. He learned to look the other
way at the right moment, question nothing, and bend the rules a bit along the way. He
helped the Antonellis with some rather exorbitant financial dealings that seemed a bit
shady. Still, there was no way to prove that he had done anything wrong. At least, he
hoped not. It didn’t take long for Todd to shake off his choirboy lifestyle after becoming
immersed in this new world. He had never had a lot of time for the opposite sex with his
intensive study schedule and workload. He dated a couple of girls while at Columbia but
nothing much ever came of it. On the other hand, Louis Antonelli had a wife, a mistress,
and a girlfriend at his disposal. His upper Eastside luxury apartment was known as an
infamous location for wild sex parties, complete with call girls and kinky freaks galore.
At first, Louie had to twist Sann’s arm to persuade him to attend these parties but once he
became familiar with “Bolivian marching powder”; his sexual appetites grew to
enormous levels. Todd seemed to notice a direct correlation between the amount of the
pure white flakes that he inhaled and the desire to thrust his hips. For a while, the
“Golden Boy” had it all. He had the looks, the brains, and with the help of the family; he
made the right connections. He quickly evolved into a wealthy young ladies man and
appeared to be the very picture of success. Everything was hunky-fucking-dory until all
of the problems started. The problems began with a phone call from a friend and fellow
attorney working with a firm over in Larchmont. This friend, Stan Weinstein, reached
Todd at home that morning since it was the 4th of July, Independence Day, 1997. It was a
call that Todd was very grateful to receive, since if he had not, the Feds would have
caught him with his proverbial pants around his ankles. It was a call that was destined to
change his life in every possible way.
“Happy 4th, Stan!” Todd exclaimed when he realized that it was his old buddy
Weinstein on the phone. “I’m surprised that you’re not upstate at the lake, ripping up
those jet skis.” “You can cut the pleasantries”, Stanley Weinstein responded in a very
serious tone, “because there is no time for bullshit right now. You know those Antonellis
that you have been fucking around with?” “If you are referring to the family that I have
represented on occasion, I am familiar with them but I don’t know what you mean by fucking
around”, Todd replied. He did not like the direction that this conversation was going at
all. “Look, I told you”, Weinstein demanded, “Cut the crap. Everybody from here to
Cleveland knows that you’re in deep with those guineas. I suggest that you turn on the
news and take a peek.” Todd fumbled with the remote control, causing the fifty-six inch
screen to flicker to life. He hit a button and landed on CNN. The first image that he saw
was that of Mario Antonelli with wild disheveled hair. Evidently, the grainy photograph
was a mug shot. The female Asian reporter’s voice came over him like a dreadful wave.
“Both Mario and Luigi Antonelli were taken into custody today at their Long Island
estate. They face multiple charges of racketeering, bribery, forgery, bank fraud,
kidnapping and murder. Many other family members and associates have been charged
with similar felonies and federal authorities promise more arrests are on the way. The
prosecution says that this is the strongest case in years against any of the major organized
crime families and that they have gathered an extraordinary amount of evidence … ” Todd
blocked out the rest of what she was saying as Weinstein’s voice continued through the
phone. “And that’s not all, buddy boy. The bureau has been poking around all over Westchester asking
lots of questions about Sann & Associates. The fucking FBI, man! Your name keeps coming up in the mix.
They want to know about some fraudulent transactions or something. I’d say that you’re screwed.”
Suddenly a very loud knock came at Todd’s front door. He was so sure that they had come to take him
away that he almost soiled his pants. “Thanks for calling”, he murmured into the phone and placed it
back in its’ cradle.
He was relieved to discover a distressed Louie Antonelli at the door rather than
representatives of any law enforcement agency. Todd reasoned that Louie was
probably the only person he knew that could help him deal with the situation, so he let
him in quickly. He had no idea what to do next and needed advice from someone more
experienced in these illicit matters. Sann was just about to question his Mafioso friend
regarding this when Antonelli leapt into a tirade about the injustice of it all. “They got
Papa, those bastards! I’m next. I’m sure of it. I come to you because you are a good
man. I know that you are a good honest man. You might not be Catholic but you’re
okay.” Louie held out a large canvas bag to him as he said this. “I want you to keep this.
Guard it with your life. My Papa’s ring is in here. I’ll be back for this. It might be a
long time but you keep it. You’re an honest man so keep this. You’re the only one that I
can trust. Don’t let those fucking bastards have it! They don’t deserve Papa’s ring.”
Todd took the bag into his hands. “I have to go”, Louie continued, “They’ll find me here.
Thank you, Todd. You have always been such a good man.” Louie kissed Todd’s
cheeks with that overly dramatic gesture Italians are fond of on his way out the door.
Todd Sann never had the chance to ask him for advice. When the young lawyer glanced
down into the big canvas bag, Papa’s precious ring was not what caught his eye. All that
he could see were bundles of fresh green US Currency. Apparently, Ben Franklin was smiling
at him on this shitty 4th of July.
Todd counted the money three times and always came up with the same sum.
$1,000,000. Louie had dropped off a million bucks at his place for safekeeping! He
wasn’t sure when the FBI was going to show up and knock his door down but judging by
what Weinstein had to say; it would probably be sooner than later. Todd thought back on
some of the dealings that he had been involved in with the Antonellis. If only the dollar
amounts had not been so high, he might be able to get out of this unscathed. He guessed
that when he was inevitably convicted of the big money white-collar crime he had
dabbled in, he was looking at twenty-five years or so in Rikers. He would be pushing
sixty years old by the time he got out. He would be an old fucking man. After Todd
made the decision to run, he never reconsidered. He knew that nothing in his world
would ever be the same again but deemed that better than the alternative. He packed a
duffel bag with mostly practical possessions such as clothing, a towel and a toothbrush.
Of course, he managed to stuff the Antonelli’s canvas bag full of money in there. Todd
Sann walked out the door of his lovely Westchester home and never looked back. He
drove his Mercedes through most of the night to the town of Scranton, Pennsylvania. His
paranoid mind convinced him that every vehicle in his rearview mirror had to be a police
car but he managed to make it into Scranton without incident. He bought a copy of USA
Today from a gas station and was immediately assured of his fugitive status. The
Antonellis were all over the front page. His name appeared in a follow up story on page
four and luckily for him, there was no picture accompanying the text. According to the
article, the prominent New York attorney Todd Sann was at large and had narrowly
avoided capture on the 4th of July. Evidently, the Feds had arrived to take him into
custody less than an hour after his hasty departure. At this point, Todd did something
that pained him greatly but he knew that it was his only option. He left his brand new Mercedes Benz
in a grocery store parking lot with the key under the mat. He hated to do it but the sleek silver
sedan stuck out like a sore thumb and was specifically mentioned in the newspaper
article. After ditching the car, he walked into the Amtrak station and booked a train for
Las Vegas under an assumed name. To Todd’s delight, the ticket agent did not even
bother checking for identification. The young fugitive felt confident that he could find
something to do with a million dollars in Vegas.
So it was that Todd Sann left his old identity behind and started a whole new one. He
purchased a phony birth certificate, driver’s license and social security card for a $2,500
from some Mexicans (casino employees) in Vegas and became Joshua Benton. He stayed in Las Vegas
for less than a month before deciding to move on. Summertime was just too fricking hot
down there. Portland, Oregon gained his attention when he read some articles about the
excellent hiking and bicycle trails that the Rose City was known for. He arrived in early
August and instantly fell in love with this unique location and its open-minded friendly
people. If only he had known that it was going to rain there for 6 months every year
before he settled in. The first few rainy seasons were tough but Benton eventually became
accustomed to it. He had some suppressed guilt issues over his involvement with the murderous
scheming Antonellis, which factored into his decision to take a low-level entry position
with the local chapter of Habitat For Humanity. At least he could help needy people in this
new life. The job was mostly a front anyway since he didn’t really need the money. A
large part of him wanted to practice law again but of course, “Joshua Benton” had never
been to law school. Then he met Lindsey, who volunteered with the group’s building
projects and fell madly in love. The stunning blue-eyed blonde that had just graduated from
Portland State University was very easy to fall for. They were married within a year and
had their first child a little over two years later. Luckily for Josh, she wasn’t the greatest
at matters of financial mathematics so she never questioned where the extra money was
coming from and how they were able to live so comfortably beyond their means. Josh
didn’t squander the Antonelli’s money at all, choosing instead to stretch it out. He even
made a few profitable legitimate investments with a little here and there. He
had eventually found Papa Antonelli’s big red ruby ring underneath all of the cash in the
canvas bag. He threw it off a bridge and into the Willamette River as a way of severing
his final ties with the family once and for all.
Josh had to blink his eyes and shake his head a bit to come back to reality. He had to
remind himself that he was in Oregon with his wife and children. It was the 4th of July,
Independence Day, but he did not feel independent of those troubling memories. His mind
kept flashing back lately and he didn’t like that. For many years, he had been able to
forget about everything. He had hardly thought of New York during most of his and
Lindsey’s time together, yet remnants of a sordid past were beginning to appear in his thoughts
with increasing frequency. Mr. Benton supposed that had something to do with the
anniversary. As much as he tried not to think about it, he could not help but notice that
today was the ten-year anniversary of that phone call that had changed his life so
dramatically. In fact, that was probably another reason that he had been so adamant with
Lindsey that they take the kids down to the waterfront Blues fest. The music and
festivities provided a distraction to keep his hidden concerns from surfacing. The sun
settled low on the western horizon, signaling that the day of fun was coming to a close.
Joshua patted his son Timmy on the head and smiled. He took a sip of his beer and
looked around the crowd with contentment. A large black woman stood in the middle of
the stage and belted out the Blues from the bottom of her soul as the concert approached
it’s encore. She insisted that her “mojo was working” but that you better not try to come
sneaking around her place like “a backdoor man”. As soon as the song came to a
triumphant crashing end, the giant fireworks display got underway. The kids were
fascinated at a sky full of colors and the explosions didn’t even make them cry. Josh
Benton held his beautiful wife and children close to him as they all went “ooh” and “aah”
together. This was one of the best times that he could remember. The fireworks show
went on for fifteen minutes like this as it gradually escalated in intensity. Suddenly, Josh had an
undeniable urge to visit the facilities right away. Those before mentioned Bridgeport ales
were flowing right through him and he had imbibed in quite a few beverages. There had been no reason
not to since Lindsey had volunteered to drive home. He looked over at the nearest line for the Port-A-
Jons and saw that it was about a mile long. “Honey, I’ve got to visit the little boy’s room” he
said to his wife. “But the grand finale is almost here”, Lindsey replied while cascading colors swirled all
around them. Josh felt a dull ache in his groin and extreme pressure from his bladder. He sat down an
empty beer bottle and told her, “This can’t wait, baby. Sorry. I’ll be right back.” The man who had chosen
to live a lie rather than face the truth weaved through the crowd and approached the portable toilets.
He looked down along the edge of the masses and saw that there was another cluster of crappers on the
outer rim of people that was much less crowded. He had to walk a few minutes to get there but it
was well worth it since the lines at this location were practically nonexistent. He was forced to lightly
pinch it while en route, so he hoped that the spectacle of the fireworks drew attention away from
the fact that he was gripping his crotch. Finally, Joshua Benton stumbled into the first
available unit, unzipped his fly and pissed a proverbial river. He stood there for some
time while he enjoyed the sensation of pure relief. Extremely loud explosions resonated
through the night as he was fidgeting with the door handle to make his departure. He had
to hurry in time to make the approaching finale. He wanted to see the look on the kids’
faces during the climax. As the door came open, he caught a glimpse of a dark
haired man standing directly in front of the Port-A-Jon. He was just able to make out the
fact that the gentleman was well dressed and about the same age as himself. “Happy
Independence Day!” this man said as he leveled a 9 millimeter revolver in front of
Benton. Josh looked at this man and then did a double take. Could it really be him? How
could they have found him? Before another flash of doubt had the chance to cross
Benton’s mind, Louie Antonelli yelled over the fireworks, “Happy 4th of July, buddy! I
don’t even need a fucking silencer!” The moment that these words left his mouth
signaled the peak of the Grand Finale. Booming echoes filled the evening air as the
kaleidoscopic colors kicked into overdrive. The last sound that Josh Benton ever made
was a scream of total anguish as his mind bent to the point of breaking. Antonelli fired
round after round into the thieving scumbag’ s chest. There was no difference between
the sound of the gunshots and the booming fireworks around them. Being this far out on
the edge of the crowd, no one even noticed what was going on. Pools of crimson blood materialized
and soaked through his carefully pressed white polo shirt. Josh Benton’s bullet
ridden lifeless body hit the ground with all the grace of a bag of bricks just as Antonelli scurried away.
It had taken almost a decade but finally, justice had been delivered on Independence Day.
THE END