The Last Great Act of Defiance

The Last Great Act of Defiance

 

by Saddletramp1956

Copyright© 2023 by Saddletramp1956, All rights reserved

 

How much pain and humiliation can a man take before he finally snaps? I guess if you asked 50 different men, you'd probably get 50 different answers. I pondered that as I considered the headstone of the man buried in the grave before me. I didn't know him well at all – in fact, I had spent only a few hours with him, but those few hours forever changed my life.

 

Seven years ago, I was in Cozumel on break from college. I had gone there with some of my buddies who promised great diving, partying and pussy galore. It was fun and the diving was terrific. One night, however, I decided to spend a few quiet hours nursing a beer in one of the local bars. That's when he came up to my table.

 

“Mind if I join you, young man?” he asked. He was an older man, appearing to be somewhere in his 60s, perhaps even a bit older. His eyes and his general countenance appeared to be of a man who had experienced a great deal of pain and hurt. Something about him seemed somewhat familiar to me, though, and since I was feeling a bit mellow and charitable, I invited him to join me.

 

A smile creased his face as he extended his hand.

 

“I'm Allen Jacobs,” he said. I took his hand.

 

“George Richardson,” I said. He sat down after we shook hands.

 

“Yes, I know,” he told me.

 

What? I wondered to myself. What the hell is going on here?

 

“How do you know who I am?” I asked.

 

“Nothing sinister,” he said. “I knew your dad. Served with him in Vietnam a long time ago. In fact, he saved my life once. Along with quite a few other Marines. Got him the Medal of Honor, in fact.”

 

He took a worn photo out of his wallet and showed it to me. I had seen this photo before. A larger version of it hung in my dad's office when he was still alive. Allen pointed to some of the guys in the picture, all of whom wore military field uniforms.

 

“This was your dad,” he said. “Here I am, we called this guy 'Spider,' because of his spindly frame. He may have looked small, but that boy could fight.” He stopped and looked wistfully at the picture as though recalling a memory of old comrades. “Unfortunately, they're all gone now. Except for me.”

 

He looked back up at me after a few quiet moments. “So, is there someone special in your life? A fiance or something?” I shook my head.

 

“Not at the moment. I'm too focused on school work right now, but I have been dating a few girls from time to time,” I said. He nodded approvingly.

 

“Good for you,” he said. “Trust me, the worst thing you can do right now is get tied down to one woman. Chase 'em, do what ya gotta do, then broom 'em, quick. Trust me on that.”

 

“You sound a little bitter,” I said. “Are you married?” He snorted.

 

“Technically, I am,” he said. “But it's a fucking joke. Has been for years. I've given that woman the best years of my life, been faithful to her, adored and cherished her and how does she repay me? By tricking me, cutting me off, cuckolding me and humiliating me every chance she gets.”

 

Wow, I thought. This is one bitter dude.

 

“Wanna hear the story?” he asked. What the hell, I thought. This could be interesting.

 

“Sure,” I said.

 

He told me the story of how he and his wife, Maggie, liked to go scuba diving in Mexico and other places on a whim. Something to break up the stress of the job. He told me how his wife, while somewhat frigid for years, was a very beautiful woman. From what Allen said, things went off the rails two years ago when they came down here to Cozumel.

 

Apparently, there was some guy from Spain who managed to work himself into their relationship, obviously looking to bed his wife. And he was a cocky son of a bitch at that.

 

“Can you imagine the gall?” Allen said. “He looked right at me and said he was going to fuck my wife. And I would watch. Can you believe that shit? He even showed me where it was going to happen and described what my wife would do before she met up with him.

 

“Get this – she did exactly what he said. Dammit, it was as though they scripted it all out and planned it well in advance. So here was my frigid 46-year-old wife, the woman who refused me any action at all, shaving her pussy, on his order no less, and going out commando like some teenage slut on spring break. What the fuck is that?

 

“Yeah, I shoulda stopped her. But I didn't. Hell, I thought she'd shut him down just like she shut down everyone else, including me. But no, she went through with it.

 

“And what did I do? What real choice did I have? That bastard made it clear that if I didn't go along, he'd be back to fuck her morning, noon and night till I was ninety. He told me if I let it happen and watched the one time, he'd leave us alone and go home.

 

“But no, that didn't happen. He tricked me. They both tricked me. That was the first day. From then on, he and my wife proceeded to humiliate me every chance they could get.

 

“I'm not gonna lie to ya, son. At first it was a bit exciting, even though it pissed me off. I thought that maybe she might eventually give him up and open herself up to me a bit. But it never happened. And it all got old. Real fast. And there doesn't seem to be any end to it.”

 

“Why don't you just dump the bitch?” I asked. “Kick her to the curb. Divorce her and be done with it.”

 

“Two words,” he said. “No. Fault. You know what that means?” I shook my head no.

 

“That basically means she gets damn near everything – the house, half of the savings, half of the retirement and a huge chunk of my salary. In other words, she'd get to live in the house I built, get half of my money AND I'd have to pay for her to live there and keep on fucking her boyfriend while I get to live in a piece of shit apartment eating pork and beans. Oh yeah, I've talked to a bunch of attorneys and that's the way it is. At my age and in my condition, I'd never survive,” he said.

 

“What do you mean,” I asked.

 

“A few months after all this started, I had a heart attack. It happened during one of their fuckfests that she insisted I watch. You know they wouldn't even stop fucking long enough to call the ambulance? You know what she said? 'If he dies, he dies. We'll just take his insurance money and travel the world.' Then they laughed. What kind of a sick bitch does that? I finally crawled to the phone and managed to call 911. They didn't even stop when the paramedics came to get me.

 

“And you know what else she did? She and Fuckwad took off the whole time I was in the hospital. I have no idea where they went. Not once did she even visit me in the hospital or check to see if I was okay.”

 

I went out on a limb. “Why not get revenge? Burn the bitch. Find someone to fuck and make her watch.” He shook his head.

 

“No, son, that wouldn't be right,” he told me. “I took a vow before God and everyone to remain faithful to her till death do us part. Those vows mean something to me even if they don't mean shit to her.

 

“But that was a big wake-up call for me. I decided there was no way that bitch would get anything from me. I changed my will and took her out of it and changed my insurance and the beneficiary on my retirement so she wouldn't get a penny. Fuck her,” he said.

 

“Then about four months ago, I was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. Doc said I had maybe six months to a year to live. That's when I decided to put this to an end, no matter the consequences,” he said. “And tonight's the night I take back my dignity.”

 

I was finding all this a bit hard to believe. I think he sensed that and pulled out his phone.

 

“I suspect you're thinking this can't be true. No one with a conscience would act like this, right? Maybe in the movies, or on one of those erotic fiction sites, but not in real life,” he said. I had to agree. He punched a few things on his phone, took out a pair of earbuds, plugged them in and handed me his phone.

 

“Watch this video,” he said. “Then tell me what you think.”

 

I put the earbuds on and hit play on his video app. I saw an attractive older woman riding the cock of a man whose face was hidden by her body. She appeared to be looking directly into the camera, but I realized she was looking at the face of the man holding the camera. She smiled, but her smile held no warmth.

 

“Like what you see,” she asked as she went up and down on the large dick of the man below her. “Your face says no, but I know you do. You love watching me get filled with his cum, don't you. You're shaking your head no but I know better. Don't worry, you're never touching this pussy again, ever. Maybe I'll let you suck his cum out of me, but that's it.” She rode harder, letting the man fill her up with his sperm.

 

“Oh, God, that felt so good,” she said as she got up. I could see cum dripping out of her shaved pussy. “What's the matter? You're not looking too good. Are you going to have another heart attack on us? Good. Maybe it'll be the big one this time. That's okay, I'll play the part of the grieving widow to the hilt. Hell, I've been playing the part of the loving spouse all these years so I'm pretty good at fooling people.

 

“Then we'll take your insurance money and go to all the places you and I wanted to visit and fuck each other senseless. On your dime,” she added laughing. This time, the man under her sat up and laughed with her, wrapping his arm around her. She turned to face her lover.

 

“Come on, big guy, let's do it again. Maybe we can get him to have a stroke this time,” she said. The video ended with the two lovers laughing hysterically. I was in shock, looking at the blank screen before me.

 

“I have lots of other videos just like this,” Allen told me.

 

“Why is she doing this,” I asked. “Did you cheat on her or beat her or something?” He shook his head.

 

“No, I never once cheated on her and I've always treated her like a queen. I did ask her once, though. Check this out,” he added, taking the phone and pulling up another video.

 

The second video showed his wife's back as he addressed her.

 

“Why are you doing this to us? To me?” I heard him ask in the video. “I've never cheated on you and you have to admit I treat you very well. I just want to know why you're tearing my heart out like this. I don't understand.”

 

She sighed and turned around to face him, obviously put out by his questioning.

 

“Look, you just don't do it for me, okay? I know you've never cheated on me and yes, you treat me very well. You're a great provider. I just need his dick and yours doesn't turn me on anymore. It hasn't for a long time. So just go along and things will be just fine. Maybe in a few years I'll get tired of fucking him and we can retire and laugh about it in our old age. Let me just have this, okay?”

 

“No, Mags, you may laugh, but I won't. I promise you, this won't end well. At all,” Allen said in the video.

 

“Dammit, don't you even think of getting a divorce, because I'll fucking destroy you,” she said. “Then I'll take everything you have and I'll keep right on fucking him. And you'll get to foot the bill. Got it?”

 

The video faded to black leaving me dumbfounded. How could someone be so cruel?

 

“You have enough right here to destroy her,” I said. He smiled.

 

“Now you're starting to get the idea,” Allen said. “Yes, these videos could destroy her, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. Tonight's just the beginning of their destruction. But I need help to make it happen. Will you help me, George?”

 

I was tempted, but still needed one question answered.

 

“Why me?” I asked. “Surely you could get any number of people to help you.” Allen nodded his head.

 

“You're right, I could. The truth is, George, you're the closest thing to a son I have. You see, my wife denied me children, claimed they would get in the way of her career. When I'm gone, that's it. My family tree is done. There's no children, no survivors, nothing. I'm it.

 

“There's more. Let me ask you – how many C students do you know get a million-dollar scholarship to an Ivy League school?”

 

He had me at that. I was a bit lazy in high school – much to my parents' chagrin – and was really surprised when I was told I got a huge scholarship from a private foundation supposedly set up to help the families of Vietnam veterans. And it was unlike any scholarship I ever heard of. Not only did it pay tuition, books and lodging, it also gave me extra spending cash for trips, a car, whatever I needed – up to a limit, of course. Thing is, I never lacked for anything. After getting that scholarship, I promised my mother I'd focus on my studies, and so far, I have.

 

“Your father and I stayed in touch after the war,” Allen said. “We talked, sent letters and emails. I've met your mother a few times as well. You and I have met also, but you probably don't remember since you were just a baby. When your dad was in the hospital the last time, I visited him. I promised that I would make sure his wife and son would be well taken care of. You see, his medical condition nearly wiped your family out financially. So I set up a private foundation that paid all of his medical expenses. It also set up a million-dollar trust for your mother and a million-dollar scholarship for you. I figured it was the least I could do for the man who saved my life in Vietnam. Lately, though, there are times I wish he'd have let me die over there.

 

“So I'm asking, George. Will you help me do this? Will you help me reclaim some part of my dignity and my manhood? Tonight is the last you or anyone will ever see of me, so think of it as the last wish of a dying man. And I want my life, such as it is, to count for something.”

 

I thought hard about what he just said.

 

“Is there some other way?” I asked. “You can take this to an attorney, sue her for mental cruelty, go after her job. Something...” Allen shook his head.

 

“No, George, it's too late. I'm a dead man walking. In a month or so, I'll probably be in a hospital bed for the last time. And there's no way in hell I'm dying like that, a shriveled-up old man. And there's no way I'm putting myself in a situation where she'll have any say over my final affairs.”

 

“Are you sure your plan will work?” I asked. He smiled.

 

“Oh yes. You see, I have the element of surprise. They're expecting a beaten-down, dejected old man. They'll have no idea the shitstorm coming down on them,” he said.

 

“You're not going to kill her, are you?” I asked.

 

“No,” he said. “I want her to live a long time and I want her to remember this night for the rest of her miserable life. And I want her to face the shame of what she did to me. To us. Believe me, she's gonna have a lot of explaining to do to a lot of people.”

 

“What, exactly, would I have to do?” I asked. I was hoping he wouldn't ask me to hurt or kill someone.

 

“Not much. Just video the encounter. Send it out by email then hand her an envelope,” he said. That sounded easy enough. “I already have the email drafted up so all you'd have to do is attach the video and hit send.” He pulled two envelopes out of his pocket. “The thick envelope is hers. It explains pretty much what you'll record tonight. The other one is for you.”

 

“What's that one for?” I asked.

 

“There's a key to a safe deposit box, a card and a letter with some instructions. After we finish tonight, you'll need to call my attorney. He's expecting your call and he'll explain it all to you.”

 

“Okay, I'll do it,” I said. What the hell. Make a video, send it out and hand her an envelope. Simple enough. Allen smiled.

 

“Thank you, George. This means a lot to me. Call it my last great act of defiance,” he said.

 

We finished our beer, while watching part of a soccer game on the big screen television. Allen looked at his watch.

 

“It's time we head out. You ready?” he asked. I indicated that I was and we left the bar. I had no idea where we were going so I followed his lead. He was mostly silent but did give me a bit of advise.

 

“Someday, George, you're going to meet a woman and fall in love. I know I told you earlier to do your thing quick and broom 'em fast, but the fact is you will fall in love. It happens to us all. Just do yourself a favor before you marry her, though,” he said.

 

“What's that?” I asked.

 

“Check her out, closely. Observe her mother, watch how she treats her husband because that's probably what you'll have to look forward to. But don't marry until she signs a prenuptial agreement. Protect yourself. And don't let your relationship get like mine. Always put her first and love her with everything you have, but take the initiative at the first sign of trouble,” he said. Sounded like good advise to me.

 

We finally arrived at what appeared to be our destination. There were two people waiting for Allen – the woman I saw in the video sitting down on an outdoor staircase and a tall man next to her. The woman looked like she was giving him a blowjob but it was dark and I couldn't tell for certain. Allen stopped and looked at me.

 

“This is it. Showtime. You have my phone so please start recording about the time I approach them, and remember, some of what you're going to see could be disturbing,” he said.

 

“Look, Allen,” I began. “I'm sorry about all of this. I barely know you but I think you would have made a great dad.” He smiled as he put his hand on my shoulder.

 

“George, you're the spitting image of your dad and I know he'd be damn proud of you right now,” he said. I remembered something my dad used to say sometimes.

 

“Allen, Semper Fi.” He grinned.

 

“Oorah,” he said quietly before walking away.

 

I plugged in the earbuds so I could hear what was being said and supported his phone so I would have a clear and stable video. I zoomed in a bit so I could see the picture a little bit better. The couple at the staircase reacted when they saw Allen approach. Neither of them saw me. The man stood a bit taller and smirked as he began to speak. I wanted to knock that smirk right off his face.

 

“Well, looks like the cuck finally made it,” he said as the woman smiled. I was surprised at the clarity and quality of the sound.

 

“I'm here,” Allen said. “Let's get this over with.”

 

“Not so fast, cucky,” the smirking man said as he pulled out a bottle of what appeared to be champagne and three flutes. He poured the sparkling liquid and handed one to the woman who accepted it with a smile. He set a second glass down and offered the third to Allen.

 

“Let's drink a toast before we begin, shall we?” the smirking man said. “After all, this is the second anniversary of our, um, relationship, yes? It was two years ago today that I first fucked your wife, right here on these very steps, was it not?” Allen wasn't amused. He kept his hands to his sides and said nothing.

 

“Oh, come now, Allen,” the woman said. “Don't be a stick in the mud. This is a special day for us all, isn't it? Don't you want to celebrate with us? Maybe have a little re-enactment? I'm wearing the same dress I wore that first night. Don't you like it,” she asked, lifting the dress to show her pantiless shaved pussy. “We'll enjoy a little toast then you can watch him fuck my brains out just like we did that first night. My pussy is so wet just thinking about it. Then afterwards, you can just sit and watch us fuck all night long. It'll be so much fun.”

 

Allen reached behind his back and pulled a gun he had hidden in his belt. He took a solid shooting stance, holding the pistol with both hands the way my dad had taught me so many years ago. The smirk left the other man's face as he realized the pistol was aimed at his head.

 

“Well, it looks like cucky-boy has finally grown a set of balls,” he said. “What are you going to do, cuck? Are you going to shoot me?” He laughed and the woman joined him.

 

“This ends now,” Allen said with conviction. “And yes, I'm going to blow your fucking brains out.”

 

“Well, then, I guess I had better prepare to meet my maker,” the man said sarcastically, his arms wide.

 

“Shut the fuck up and don't move,” Allen said, cocking the pistol. The man's face changed as he realized Allen was serious. The woman's tone also changed.

 

“Allen, please don't do anything stupid,” she said. “Look, you don't have to watch us fuck, okay? Just go away and we'll celebrate without you. It won't be as much fun, though, without you here for us to humiliate.”

 

“Shut up, bitch. I'll deal with you next.” Her eyes widened in shock. Allen had never spoken to her like this before.

 

“Allen, look, we don't have to resort to violence. This isn't necessary. You're not going to shoot me or anyone else and you know it. Please, put the gun down and let's discuss this like mature adults,” the smirking man said, now clearly nervous.

 

“Oh, so it's 'please' now, is it?” Allen said. “You see, that's the problem with assholes like you. You think you can just waltz into someone's home, steal the wife, strip the man of his dignity and then expect the injured party to discuss it calmly. The problem with people like you is that you mistake patience for weakness. You get cocky and overconfident. Well guess what, asshole? Tonight, you're going to pay the piper. You fucked my wife, stole my dignity and my manhood and tonight, I'm taking it back. And yes, you will die.”

 

“Allen, I'm begging you, please put the gun down and we can end this,” the man said.

 

“Would you get on your knees and beg for your life?” Allen asked. The man slowly got on his knees, his hands in the air.

 

“Please, Allen, I'm begging you, don't kill me. We can put this to an end right now and you'll never see me again,” he said. Allen addressed his wife.

 

“Look at that, Maggie. Your lover is now on his knees begging me for his life. What do you think now? Not so cocky now, are you, you sonofabitch?” he asked the man. “Whaddya think, Mags, should I let him live? Mmmm... No, I don't think so. Goodbye, asshole,” Allen said as he pulled the trigger.

 

The man's eyes grew wide at Allen's last statement, but he had no time to respond as the .45 caliber hollow-point bullet struck him directly in the forehead and exited out the back, taking about half of the man's brains and cranium. He fell backward, a pool of blood soaking the ground. Maggie screamed and covered her ears. Allen shifted and pointed the gun at her.

 

“Shut up,” he yelled. “Just shut the fuck up.” Maggie stopped screaming but her makeup began running as tears poured out of her eyes.

 

“You murdered him,” she yelled.

 

“Yes, I did,” Allen said. “But you and your lover murdered me two years ago. And you've been driving a stake through my heart every day since then. So I guess that makes it even. Now it's your turn to feel pain.”

 

“Please Allen, don't kill me,” she sobbed. “I'm sorry I hurt you like that, really I am.”

 

“No, Mags, you're not sorry. Not at all. And don't worry, I'm not going to kill you,” Allen said, a twisted smile forming on his face. “Not that I haven't thought about it. Oh yeah, I actually considered killing you a hundred times and I could've done it, too. But I figured that would be too good for you. Now, I want you to live to be 100 and I want every day to be a reminder of what you did. That's right, you are directly responsible for the deaths of two men. One being your lover and the other being the man who loved you exclusively for 17 years.

 

“And by the way, Mags, I'm dying. Four months ago, I was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor and given six months to a year to live. But I decided to take charge of my own fate.

 

“And before you celebrate my death, I want you to know that I changed my will and all my retirement accounts after my heart attack. You're getting nothing. Zero, zilch, nada. After I'm done here, there'll be a nice young man giving you something that explains it all,” he said.

 

“Can't we talk this out?” she asked.

 

“No, Mags, I tried talking to you for the last two years. You made it clear how you felt about me. Now you're going to pay the price. Hell, you probably didn't even notice that I haven't worn my wedding ring for the last few months, have you?

 

“Yeah, I know you spent $2,000 on that ring. I got $20 for it a pawn shop. Maybe if you're quick, you can get it out of hock before they sell it,” he said.

 

“You did WHAT?” she asked. “That was a special ring I had made just for you.”

 

“Yeah, about that. You didn't seem to give a shit about it the last ten years, did you? You sure as hell didn't care the last two years,” he said. “In fact, I don't even remember you once telling me that you love me in the last few years. In fact, you made it clear I just didn't do it for you anymore. I could've accepted a divorce, but no, you had to hurt and humiliate me every chance you got.”

 

“Please, Allen, let's get some help, maybe some counseling. Don't do this,” she begged.

 

“Now you give a shit? Now that I'm really dying? No, Mags, it's too late,” he said. “I warned you this wouldn't end well but you wouldn't listen. Oh, and by the way, you might want to prepare yourself to get a shitload of calls after I'm done. You see, this is all being recorded and will be sent by email to everyone you know – your friends, family, everyone you work with, even a bunch of media contacts.”

 

“No, please,” she cried. “Let's start over, please. I've learned my lesson.”

 

“Too little, too late, Mags,” he said. “Goodbye.”

 

With that, Allen put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The top of his head flew off, spraying blood and gray matter everywhere. Maggie screamed hysterically.

 

“NOOOOOO! Please, Allen, NO. Don't die, please. Come back to me, Allen, please, please, please. I'm sorry, Allen. Really, I am. ALLEN! Please! I didn't mean it! I really do love you!”

 

I stopped the video, saved it, then pulled up the email draft, attached it and hit send. I waited until I saw the notification that the email had been sent and turned the phone off. I walked to the hysterical woman, who looked up at me. I pulled out the envelope marked, “Mags” and handed it to her.

 

“Who are you?” she asked through her sobs.

 

“From what Allen says, I'm the closest thing to a son he ever had. Too bad. I think he would've made a great dad. Good luck,” I said. I heard the sound of sirens and left as quickly as I could.

 

I may have seemed calm outside, but was shaking for quite some time. I had, after all, just witnessed one man's murder and another man commit suicide in the most violent way imaginable. It took me some time before I could keep it together long enough to place a couple of calls.

 

The first call was to my buddies, telling them I had to leave early in the morning. They took it well, but asked if I was alright. I promised to tell them about it sometime. The next call was to the attorney whose number was on the card in the envelope Allen gave me.

 

I identified myself and we spoke for a few minutes. He told me to come see him at his D.C. office in the next day or two, then gave me the directions to the bank that held the safe deposit box where I was to store Allen's phone. He then told me to turn on the news. I did, and saw a shortened, edited version of the video I sent out. Apparently, the suicide of a prominent member of the Washington political class was considered newsworthy.

 

“Attempts to reach the widow of Allen Jacobs have so far been unsuccessful,” the announcer said. “According to videos sent to a number of media outlets, tonight's incident is the result of what appears to be an ongoing love affair she allegedly had with a foreign diplomat. It's not known exactly how Jacobs sent the video of his own suicide, but it's generally believed he had help doing so. The State Department has not released a statement on the murder of the foreign diplomat. Stay tuned for updates.”

 

I flipped through the news channels to see my video everywhere. I fired up my laptop and found that reports on Allen's suicide had gone viral. Reports said there were three videos, but parts of only one were considered safe for network use. At least one of the other two videos, the articles said, were pornographic in nature and showed Mrs. Jacobs engaging in sexual activity with the foreign diplomat.

 

The next day, I returned to the States and made my way to the attorney I had spoken to earlier. He informed me that Allen had changed his will some time ago making me the sole beneficiary of his entire estate except for his house, which he had given to a non-profit group so it could be turned into a shelter for homeless veterans. After taxes and fees, he said, I would receive about $10 million.

 

A few days later, I was at Arlington National Cemetery, attending Allen's funeral. Mrs. Jacobs was there as well, playing the role of the grieving widow, but no one paid her any attention. She sobbed as a Marine in dress blues handed her the flag that was draped over his coffin.

 

The reading of Allen's will went about the same. She tried contesting the will, but withdrew her objection after Allen's attorney suggested some of the more salacious videos of her with her lover would be used against her and thus become public record.

 

After the meeting, she came over to me.

 

“I hope you're happy,” she said. “I lost everything.” I couldn't believe my ears.

 

“You didn't lose anything,” I told her. “You threw it away. To be precise, you deliberately fucked it away. Now you're getting what you deserve.”

 

I left her standing there and went back to school, where I became more determined than ever to do my best. I wanted to be the kind of man that would make both Allen and my dad proud.

 

At the same time, I kept a loose tab on Maggie Jacobs and caught an interview with her on one of those daytime talk shows for women.

 

She tried to play the victim, claiming abuse and infidelity, and three of the co-hosts went along, but one of the hosts had apparently seen all three videos and began to politely confront her with her own words. Maggie denied ever saying what the host recalled, so she played the video where she admitted that Allen had never abused her or cheated on her.

 

“And isn't it true that you refused to call 911 when your husband was having a heart attack?” the host asked. “From what I understand, you and your lover kept right on having sex even as your husband was dying. How do you respond to that?”

 

Naturally, that pretty much ended the interview and Maggie left the set in tears, having been confronted by her own words and actions. To my knowledge, she never appeared on any other program.

 

Then an article appeared a few months later that said she was found dead in her apartment, the apparent victim of suicide.

 

According to the report, she had been placed on paid administrative leave following Allen's suicide. The man she was screwing turned out to be more than just a foreign diplomat. Several intelligence operatives had apparently connected him to ISIS and there were those who believed Maggie had passed on sensitive information.

 

Unable to deal with the result of her own actions, she took an overdose of pills, followed by a significant amount of alcohol. Officers who discovered her body said she was wearing her wedding dress and was holding her wedding photo to her breast. A note on her nightstand simply read, “Please forgive me.”

 

I followed Allen's advice where women were concerned. I dated quite a few, did what I set out to do and moved on. I fell in “love” a time or two but changed my mind after I met their parents.

 

Then I met Karen. We dated for a long time and I found myself falling in love with her. She invited me to meet her parents over the holiday and I was struck by the way they interacted with each other. Although married for 30 years, they acted like teenagers, constantly sneaking hugs and kisses. It was obvious they truly loved one another. More than once, Karen suggested they get a room.

 

“How do you think you got here?” her mom said, laughing. By the end of the trip, my mind was made up. Her father spoke to me privately before we left.

 

“You seem like a really nice guy, George, and I see how my daughter looks at you. Tell me the truth, do you love her? I mean, really love her?” he asked.

 

“Yes sir, I do,” I told him. It was true, I did love Karen, very much.

 

“Do you love her enough to spend the rest of your life with her?” he asked. That was the $64,000 question.

 

“I believe I do,” I told him.

 

“Good,” he said. “Because if you ever hurt my little girl, you'll have us to answer to.” I considered what he said and carefully formulated my response. I realized he was only looking out for his daughter and I respected that.

 

“Sir,” I said, “I know first-hand what can happen when a marriage breaks down. I've personally seen the pain it can cause and I swear to you that I would never, ever do anything to hurt her. Someday, I'll tell you my story and I hope you'll understand.”

 

I'm not sure if it was the expression on my face or the tear struggling to escape my eye, but he seemed to understand and shook his head.

 

“Okay, George, that's good enough for now,” he said. “And I'm going to hold you to that.”

 

Karen and I married after I graduated law school. At her father's insistence, we signed a prenuptial agreement to protect both our assets. In addition to my $10 million, Karen had inherited a large sum of money from her grandparents and we all agreed it was for the best.

 

She and her parents seemed confused when I told them of my plan to join the Marines and become a JAG officer, a military attorney. They had assumed I would be accepting a high-paying job with one of the many prominent law firms that tried to recruit me. That's when I told them of my dad and Allen.

 

“Oh my God, that's so sad,” Karen said. I played them the video I took that night in Cozumel. Although Allen's phone was still in storage, I was one of the 1,000-plus recipients of the email sent out that night.

 

“You were the one who took that video?” she asked. “I wondered how he got that video to the media so fast. Didn't anyone ever question you?”

 

“No,” I said. “I guess the authorities figured it didn't really matter. And now with Mrs. Jacobs dead, the case is closed. I've got lots of video that he took, but it's not something for the squeamish.”

 

I looked at Karen's father.

 

“Now you know why I'll never do anything to hurt your little girl,” I said. “And I assure you, if there's any problems, I'll take the initiative and get them fixed before they get out of hand.” He understood, giving me a manly hug.

 

“I believe you, son. And thanks for sharing that with us. It had to be painful to witness that.”

 

About a year later, Karen gave birth to a boy. She asked me what I would like to name him and I said, “Michael Allen Richardson, after the two bravest men I've ever known.” Michael was my father's first name, and you already know who Allen is.

 

“Michael Allen,” she said. “I like it. Michael Allen it is.”

 

And here we are, at Arlington National Cemetery, in front of Allen's grave.

 

I know there are some who, upon hearing this story, will think Allen was a gutless wimp for taking his wife's crap for so long. I know there are some who would question why he put up with the humiliation as long as he did. I'm one of them. Maybe he was a bit wimpy for a time. Maybe he thought the love they once had would win out in the end. Who knows? Maybe he thought she would come to her senses after a while. I chose not to judge the man since I wasn't there. What I do know for a fact is what I witnessed that day in Cozumel. That was certainly not the act of a gutless wimp.

 

I pulled a small Eagle, Globe and Anchor out of my uniform pocket and placed it on his headstone.

 

“Semper Fi, Allen,” I quietly said. “Rest in peace.”