Hearsay Justice

“Well, they buried Vernon Boreman last Wednesday,” declared Sally's mom during their weekly phone conversation.

“Oh, what happened? Did he die suddenly, or had he been sick?” Sally was surprised. “Heart attack, died sitting behind his desk at the bank. It's no surprise really, he'd been over weight for a long time and his smoking didn't help anything either. But there was one surprise at the funeral,” Sally's mom baited.

“Oh, what was that?” Sally bit the bait.

“Well, all 12 kids were there including Fred. And accompanying him were two prison guards,” delivered Sally's mom.

“What? Prison Guards? Why?” Sally was totally taken aback.

“Well, word is that Fred is in the Arizona State pen.”

“In the Arizona State pen? Prison? What for?” Her mom answered in a tone that said --- you should know better than to ask that.

“Well,... for runnin' drugs. What do you think?”

“Oh my God! Really! Oh this is terrible! Well, why on Earth would the state of Arizona pay for 2 prison guards to bring him all the way back to South Dakota for a funeral. It doesn't even seem possible,” reasoned Sally.

“Oh come on,” her mom snorted, “Boreman's own half the county. If you know the right people and pay enough money, you get whatever you want.” her mom clarified.

“Oh God! Fred must be very sad and lonely in there. I think I should write to him. I was always kinda friendly with Fred when we were in high school. Hey mom, do you think you could go to the bank and ask Fred's brother Bob for Fred's address at the prison?” implored Sally. “I'd really like to try to get in touch with him.”

“Are you crazy?”her mother's voice smacked the air waves. “There is no way I'm going into that bank to ask for that outlaw's prison address! And you shouldn't be writing to him either! He was never anything but no good,” her mom's judgement was final. “Well, if that's the way you're gonna be about it, I'm just gonna write Bob at the bank address myself. I'm sure he'd be happy to give me Fred's address,”countered Sally.

“You go do what you want, you always do anyway. But just leave me out of it,” concluded her mother.

One week later at 7:00 AM Sally's phone rang.

“Am I speaking with Sally Forester?” inquired the voice at the other end of the line. “You are,” answered Sally.

“Sally, this is Bob Boreman.”

Quite taken aback at the early hour of the day Sally exclaimed “My goodness, Bob, you can't imagine how surprised I am you hear your voice!”

“Sorry about calling so early. I know it's only 7:00 AM out there in CA” Bob replied. “But you can't imagine how surprised I am to get a letter from you asking for Fred's address in some Arizona prison.”

“Oh Bob, I hope that you are not offended by my asking for Fred's address. It's just that I thought being in prison and all, he might get comfort hearing from someone that he knew from high school days.”

“I am not as offended, as I am dumbfounded by your request,” Bob declared. “You see Fred is not in prison! You say in your letter that there were prison guards with him at dad's funeral. Well, let me tell you, if there were any guards there, I didn't see them.” “What? You're kidding!” Sally was really thrown for a loop.

“As a matter of fact,” Bob continued “Fred was free to come and go as he pleased. He and our 5 brothers even went on a short fishing trip while he was here. So, Sally, I have to ask... how did you hear about this prison business?”

If Bob could have seen the six shades of red in her face he would have known how embarrassed she was about this whole thing. “Well Bob, I'm just gonna tell ya, I heard it from my mom.”

“And how did your mom come by this story,” Bob questioned.

“Well, you know how the little old ladies around there have their little coffee clutches. That's where she heard it. Who knows how these stories get started. But that is a tale that is making the rounds in your little town,” qualified Sally.

“Well, maybe your mother should check her sources of information before she repeats stories like this,” suggested Bob.

“Well, I couldn't agree with you more, Bob. Believe me, I am going to make her aware of this whole thing,” resolved Sally.

“But by the way, Bob, I am just curious though, since this whole thing is about Fred and I haven't been around there for so long, how is Fred? What has he been doing?”

“Well,” replied Bob “Fred and I don't necessarily have the same views, values or life- style. To tell you the truth, I never kept in touch with him. Seeing him at dad's funeral was the first contact that I had with him in many years. He really doesn't have much to do with the rest of the family either. That is just the way it is.”

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” Sally commiserated.”Well Bob, thanks so much for taking the time to call me. I want to assure you that I will be speaking with my mom in an effort to clear all of this up once and for all.”

“I sure would appreciate that, Sally. You take care now. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Bob.”

Consternation and just plain flabbergasted didn't even begin to describe Sally's feelings of embarrassment. Boy if this didn't bring home to her the nastiness and gossip mongering of that small minded home town of hers. During her years there, many was the time that she herself was a victim of character smirching stories that had absolutely no validity. “She wore her dresses too short. She stayed out too late on weekends with that boyfriend of hers. Yeah, he drove a Scout. You know those Scouts have a big covered cargo bed. Wonder what went on during those weekend nights that she stayed out so late? Her poor mother, she must worry herself sick about that wild thing!” Man- oh-man, those cackling voices all came back to her in one fell swoop! Those ugly old biddies! Here was proof that they were still up to their old bunch of bull-shit! And her mom was in on it! Well, this time, Sally was gonna set the record straight.

“So, mom,” Sally ventured during their next weekly phone conversation. “You know that story you told me about Fred being in the Arizona penitentiary?”

“Yeah, what about it?” her mom's tone somewhat bristled.

“Well, I did what I said I was gonna do. I wrote Bob a letter and asked for Fred's prison address. And ya know what, mom? Bob told me that Fred is not in prison. There was no such thing as prison guards being with him at their dad's funeral. Bob said that all the brothers even went on a short fishing trip. And he wanted to know where you got your information about all of this.”

“Well,” Sally's mom stammered “Joanne Schmidt was talking about it when we were all having coffee at Katherine Vilhour's house.”

“Well, mom, did you ask Joanne how she came about all that very interesting information?”

“Well no I didn't, Sally! And why should I? It's common knowledge who and what Fred Boreman is. And if Fred Boreman ain't in the penitentiary---he oughta' be!”

Case Closed!

THE END

Side note: this is a true story—almost word for word. As the author, and as someone who knows very well how the people in this town operate, I would like to offer some insight as to how this rumor might have gotten started:

I am supposing that many town's people were present at the funeral, Vernon Boreman was a prominent citizen. The gathering of all 12 of his adult children must have been quite a sight. I'm sure many were surprised to see Fred among them. A casual viewer of the situation might have whispered to someone beside them, “Well, would you just look at who's there-Fred Boreman. It's amazing that he isn't in a penitentiary somewhere.”

I assure the reader that this is all it takes to start a story like the one I have told. From that one remark made by someone who has no evidence, no knowledge, no clue as to what the truth is, these accusations ---these “truths” spread like wild fire. As so it goes, until the end of time!