Just Politics

I sit and stare at my phone in the D.C police station. My hands feel clammy, my stomach has knotted itself into a ball. I’m obviously nervous, but the thing that I feel people can’t see so clearly is the feeling of irritation I’m overcome with. Must be that goddamn media, I think to myself. Why else would a woman like me, the wife of one of the senate's most prominent senators be sitting here, in a grimy police station amongst all of the filth of the world.

Beside me, a young boy sits, probably about 20 or something, I feel as he watches me, his sharp blue eyes gazing upon me which I can only read as…

 curiosity and disdain. 

At first I try to ignore it, he’s just a little boy I think, he’s too young to know anything about politics, too young and too liberal. However, his stare becomes more intense and finally he shifts himself towards me, with his filthy jeans, wrinkly vest and of course beanie; making him one of these terrible student activists I can only assume. 

He opens his mouth to say something and scoffs at me “so your Wood’s wife,” he says in a mocking tone. “People like you are what's wrong with America,” his voice gets louder and I begin to think I should say something. After all, I am Caroline Woods, of the Donner family in Florida, Harvard graduate and most importantly wife of the chair of the senate: Randy Woods. Who did this boy think he was, trying to lecture me on my life choices and beliefs? When he clearly had absolutely none himself. Pathetic really, I think to myself as I grip the seat I’m in trying to stay calm. I remember Randy’s text from earlier: 

Watch what you say.

I chuckle at myself. “Oh Carrie,” I silently scold like my mother used to. I had almost made a stupid mistake that I always made sure as a senators wife to keep in check. From the beginning of Randy’s first campaign to the bribing scandal, the insider trading, the fake charity, all of which were obviously fake. Stuff stirred up by the media who had nothing else to do. Keeping quiet was part of the job. The most important part.

How silly of me.

After this I take greater care in calming my nerves before the police take me in for questioning. If there was one thing I needed to make sure didn’t happen it was me slipping up in the interrogation room. Not that there was anything to reveal, it was just a little stupid mistake Randy had made in law school. You see that's the thing about politics, when you’re a politician the media keeps making you pay for the mistakes of your youth no matter how irrelevant they are now.

Finally, a short, chubby man comes in and escorts me into a very dark room. The fact that I am no longer sweating tells me that the room is substantially colder than outside. Taking another deep breath, I look around the room. Right in the middle sits a large table with a chair on each side of it. I go ahead and sit in one of them as the man tells me that the lead detective will be in shortly for questioning. He smiles pitifully as he leaves and for some reason I’m not annoyed.

At least someone can see this from my perspective.

I have practically no time to think of an honest, short statement in my head because almost immediately a woman walks in. I take a good look at her, she's of medium height with short, stocky legs. Her hair is a coarse black that she’s pinned up in a bun. She also has tan skin and short, beady features. She’s wearing a blue pinstripe suit with a huge oversized jacket on. Even though I know this is probably due to the draftiness in the room, it still seems like an odd choice. Wasn’t I supposed to be meeting with the lead detective? From the looks of her, she seems like an overdressed intern at the department.

And yet as I study her more closely, an oddly familiar feeling washes over me for reasons I don’t seem to understand. Almost like she was someone I knew in my youth.

As she walks in she begins to flip through some papers, not even giving me a second glance. 

I try to keep my patience. But my old friend, irritation, rears its ugly head and I clear my throat.

No response.

Continuing to vye for her attention like some overeager fan. I sit up tall, head up and shoulders back. I put on my most venomous smile that I have learned all these years seems to get people to do what I want. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but if you don’t mind I have quite a busy day, so I’d appreciate it if you’d hurry this up,” I do my best to enunciate those last words. 

The woman looks up from her papers and flashes her teeth to give me a smile that for some reason mirrors my own. 

Fake, sarcastic, venomous and drops her papers on the table with a single plop. 

“Why  I’m so sorry Mrs. Woods, but I also have just as busy of a day as you and I’m sure you can go and yell at the media some other time,” she practically snarls at me.

I have to admit that instead of retaliating back at her, I am too thrown off by all of this to do so. Her face, her eyes, the tone and smile similar to my own was the thing I least expected from the person in here today.

I am about to say something but the image of Randy’s text pops up in my head again. I know that I can’t give her any reason to tell the media that I was acting “entitled,”as she was insinuating.

I know now just how to play this.

I cast my eyes down in shame. “I apologize, I think we got off on the wrong foot and I don’t want this to continue, can we start over?” I ask in my sincerest voice.

She seems surprised by my reaction. “Of course Mrs. Woods,” she says slowly, with a hint of hesitation. Then, cautiously she extends her hand to mine. 

“I’m the lead detective, Julianne Sher.”

Sher, Sher, Sher. As I shake her hand her name repeats itself in my head. Didn’t I know a…

My thoughts are interrupted by a big beeping noise. I look up to see Detective Sher frantically adjusting something in her vest. “Just my glucose monitor,” she says sheepishly.

“Well,” she says after she's done, “let's get on with it.” She sits down and looks me straight in the eye.

“Mrs. Woods,” she says sweetly “do you know why we requested you down here this morning?”

“Well,” I say with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood to make things less tense. “I personally think it's just the media trying to stir something up about Randy while we were at Harvard, over 40 years ago.”

She looks away from me briefly and purses her lips uncomfortably. “I’m afraid that’s not the case Mrs. Woods,”she says awkwardly. “The department has collected over 10 testaments that your husband harassed or assaulted them while they were attending Harvard.”

Hearing her words I am almost amused. “Sweetheart, I mean Detective Sher, my husband and I attended Harvard together.” I chuckle. “I know all the women in my class, who is it?” “I’m sure it's just some misunderstanding.”

I watch as her face clouds over again. “Mrs. Woods,” she says, shaking her head at me “we are not at liberty to reveal any of the names to you.”

This sets me off and I’m again annoyed. I promised Randy that I could regain control of this situation and I'd be damned if I was going to let him down.

I sit right up and plaster on a certain smile again. “Detective Sher,” I say, clearing my throat. “You seem like a reputable and hard working woman, how long have you been working at the department?”

She seems unenthused by my small talk questioning which means she isn’t able to see the long game I’m playing at. “I’ve been all over the department for about 10 years, now can we please get back to the questions Mrs. Woods?’ she asks emotionlessly. 

Damn she’s good, or professional in the other sense. But right now I need these names more than any other thing I’ve “bent,” the rules for in the world.

So I press on

“I’m just saying,” I say casually that Randy and I would love to put in a good word for you…maybe get you that next promotion?””Lord knows after 10 years you must want one.”

I now lean forward to her and it stills seems like she hasn’t caught on yet. I smile and say “we would love to do this, that is, if you can do something for me,” as I glance down at one of her folders labeled TESTIMONIES. Subtly, but enough so that she finally catches on.

Her eyes widen, “Oh Mrs. Woods,” she sputters abruptly,”this is completely unprofessional and as an officer of the law I can accept no such a thing.” Her tone gets louder, “now can we please get back to the question and I might forget this conversation actually happened.”

I scoff at her. I’ve had enough of this. I’ve tried everything I can possibly think of without inciting any future publicity. But for some reason she can’t be broken. And frankly, it shocks me as someone who's lived in the world of politics for years.

I stand up promptly and begin to walk out of the room.

“Well Detective Sher,” I say authoritatively “if you aren’t going to cooperate, I believe this meeting is over.”

I get to the door before a matching authoritative voice says “Mrs. Woods, if I may be frank,” she turns her chair to face me “we have testimonies but written complaints and statements from professors at Harvard that taught when Senator Woods attended.”

She takes a deep breath, “there are attorneys as we speak building a case against Randy and to me personally, it doesn’t look good.” “So anything you say might be helpful for his defense.”

The room is silent now. I suck in a sharp breath.

Control, Control, I repeat to myself as I try to ignore the shills that seem to be engulfing me in fear at the moment.

“You don’t know anything,” I say, my voice shaking. “They don’t know anything, and most importantly my husband didn’t do anything.” Tears begin to well in my eyes out of utter rage as I continue with one of the loudest voices I’ve ever had to use. “You know Detective Sher, I have to say earlier when you wouldn’t accept my proposition I was mad of course but I also was a little impressed, I truly thought then and there that you were one of the most professional police officers I’d ever met.”

I glare at her with a stone cold face through my tears. “But now I see that you’re just like all the other media people, trying to scare me to get something out of me.” You think you can get the truth?” I cackle. “Well guess what honey, in politics there's no such thing.”

Her face still just reads that she just wants me to finish. She sits and adjusts her vest. “Mrs. Woods, I know politicians, and I know your husband.” She looks at me dead straight in the eyes “like all politicians he has a lot more secrets than any human should, and you may blame the media for these scandals but I really think the problem is you husband and the secrets he keeps that actually believe it or not hurt people”

She sits up further “that being said, I think that, if I can know your version of the “truth,” as you refuse to call it, we can help each other.” A small hint of a smile crosses her lips “remember I just need this for the record and then maybe….” She winces as she says this “I can pull a few strings and this will go away.”

I stare at her in shock, like I’ve just woken up in an alternate reality.

“Why on earth would you do that?’

She chuckles a bit and the room seems to get even colder. “Of don’t be so naive Mrs. Woods, you think that this job is so cushy and perfect?’”I’ve done this thing for over 10 years, 10 years of being underpaid, overworked, yelled and spit at when one of us turns out to be a bad seed, and to top it all off…” her voice trails off but I can see the pent up rage in her eyes. “Last month I was passed up for a promotion here at work, for a man who’s been here half as long as I have.” 

She sighs and it almost hints at a defeated feeling “I just think that it's time I show this piece of shit police station where they went wrong, and to let off the biggest political scandals of the decade go, I think that might just do the trick.”

Her now cast down eyes look at me again. “The security cameras in here only allow people to see what is going on in here because the sound systems are broken. So you can’t give me a promotion, they’ll see that you didn’t give your statement, so just give it to me and you Mrs. Woods can be on your way without a care in the world,” she says with a hint of sarcasm.

My utter shock has almost rendered me speechless. But I know I have to act fast and give my statement for Randy, Josh and Melanie.

I cautiously sit down and give my statement. I never did think that there could ever really be, someone like Detective Sher, someone who compromises with “corruption,” as some people might call it. But then again, life in politics never ceased to surprise me.

I feel oddly relaxed after I give my statement just as I was while giving it. So relaxed that I even, to my surprise, told the “truth,” about Randy’s mistakes at Harvard. But it doesn’t matter anymore, Detective Sher and I have our own arrangement, and I have regained control of this situation.

Detective Sher herself seems pretty relaxed too. Almost reads as triumphant with the biggest smile she's put on all day and her upright posture as she continues to adjust that ridiculous vest of hers for seemingly no reason.

Afterwards I get up and walk out of the police station to my escort car. I look up, the sun seems brighter, the birds chirp sweeter, and everything around me seems so tranquil and peaceful.

This is the feeling I always get after Randy and I survive another “media scandal,” and somehow I managed to do it all by myself this time. My lips turn upward in a smile at the thought of this and I walk into the escort car more upright than I have to admit I’ve been in a long time.

The world outside the SUV seems all a blur as I sit back and breathe deeply. Inside my coat, my phone vibrates. I fish it out of my pocket and see it is from Randy. Expecting a thank you, I eagerly open my message app.

But I don’t see a thank you.

Instead there’s an attachment to an article. I click on it wearily and see the title.

Sen.Woods wife confesses to husbands harassment charges at D.C Police Station

A million thoughts seem to flash through my mind endlessly. How was the information leaked? Who leaked it?

How does Randy avoid jail time now?

My heartbeat quickens as my mind continues to race. I tighten my grip on my cell phone as I scan the article up and down searching for answers to a terrifyingly complicated puzzle. All of my testimony is here, including the professors' complaints and victims' names.

Slowly but surely it all starts to come together.

It's not until I scroll down to the author it all fits perfectly into place.

By: Julianne Sher;Investigative Journalist.

It's only now that I can recognize that name after seeing victim #1 in the article: Talia Sher

Julianne’s mother.

Tears fall onto my phone screen as I sit in shock. After a minute I start to laugh, it grows louder and louder and pretty soon I’m hysterically laughing and crying. That girl not only saw right through me; my desire for control; my political connections, my tough as nails persona.

She used them all against me.

The driver gives me a concerned look as I step out of the car numbly. I begin to climb the stairs to the penthouse. With each step I take guilt and stupidity ripples through me in waves. I honestly feel like smacking myself for my foolishness. It’s what my mother would have done anyway. 

My hands shake as I fumble for the keys to the penthouse entrance. My daughter, Melanie sits on our velvet ottoman, on her phone, with her hand over her mouth in shock.

“What the hell happened mom?”

I compose myself as much as I can and look at my daughter. In her I see the face of the girl I used to be. A face of innocence, kindness. It was the face of a woman who cared about people, about the world, a face that wanted to change it for the better.

I look at that face and say the only thing that I can seem to let out of my mouth.

“It’s just politics darling.”