The police — unsurprisingly — did not see things quite the same way. They refused to file felony charges against the linebacker and refused to even entertain the idea that his father might have put him up to it. They told Jake he could make a citizen's arrest of the linebacker for misdemeanor vandalism charges, but that if he were to do so the boy's father might be inclined to push for felony assault charges against Jake.
"He was trespassing in my backyard," Jake said, quite exasperated by this point. "Did we forget that little tidbit of information?"
"That doesn't mean you have the right to beat him senseless," Lieutenant Baker said. "Truth be told, if I thought the DA would actually file felony charges for this I'd personally arrest you right now. But the DA's one of those puke-sack liberals and he'd more than likely just reduce it down to a simple assault that those high-priced mouthpieces of yours would get dismissed at the first hearing."
So in the end, no charges were filed against anyone and both sides agreed to avoid civil proceedings as well. Overland paid for his son's medical bills and Jake paid for a new hot tub (as well as enough security lights and motion detecting intrusion alarms to open his own prison).
The news reports of the incident all read something along the lines of "JAKE KINGSLEY BEATS A NEIGHBORHOOD CHILD HE CAUGHT IN HIS BACKYARD." The accompanying articles would always mention the broken nose, the broken teeth, and the broken cheekbone Jake had inflicted, but none mentioned that the "child" in question was a linebacker on the football team who was taller than Jake, outweighed him by fifty pounds, and who had started fighting first. There was also never any mention of exactly what the "child" had been doing in Jake's backyard other than to mention that he had been vandalizing the hot tub. They always made it sound as if he'd been dumping dish soap or some other harmless substance into the water as a friendly prank.
The picture of the five muratic acid containers on the album cover was taken from the official crime-scene investigation photos and, per Jake's request, Jim and Sandy had made it a little larger than most of the other pictures. Just above it was a shot that Jake had taken of one of Overland's Sunday signs for his car lots — CLOSED TODAY, SEE YOU IN CHURCH!
"I like the pictures," Matt said, looking over Jake's shoulder at the representation of the cover. "Especially the one with the KKK burning a cross. The bible verses are a nice touch too."
"Yeah," Jake said, "that's my favorite part."
Arrayed in random patterns between the pictures were graphic printings in blood red of various biblical verse numbers. All of them were verses in which some form of discrimination or violence in the name of God or Jesus were spelled out. There was Leviticus 18:22, which was the main verse used by Christians to condemn homosexuality. There was Exodus 22:18, which had been the basis of the Salem witch trials of the seventeenth century. There was Leviticus 20:24 which advocated racism against blacks. There was John 8:44 which advocated persecution of Jews. There was Exodus 23:24, which advocated intolerance of all non-Christian religions. The verses themselves were not printed out, just the numbers. Printed across the middle of the entire album in large, gray lettering that blended in with the basic color of the cover and was barely visible unless you viewed the cover under the right type of lighting, was a different verse, one that many Christians seemed to forget about even though it was supposedly one of the tenets of their religion. It was Matthew 7:1, part of Jesus' Temple on the Mount sermon, the part that read: Judge not, lest ye be judged.
"I like it," Jake said. "That's a particularly good effect with Matthew 7:1. It's symbolic of the whole shitstorm I'm going through with these freaks. It's the biggest verse there, taking up most of the cover, yet it's hardly visible."
"That's fuckin' deep, Jake," Matt said. "How did you know all those bible verses anyway? Your old man didn't use to send you to Sunday school, did he?"
"No, I have actually read the bible several times in my life."
"No shit? Why would you do something like that?"
Jake shrugged. "So that when some Christian fundamentalist starts preaching to me I'm already pre-armed. I can out-debate most bible thumpers with one hand tied behind my back. It's come in handy on more than one occasion."
"Screw debating," Matt said. "I just punch those fuckheads in the mouth when they start that shit with me."
Jake smiled. "Sometimes I think that's not a bad philosophy either."
Jake arrived home just before seven o'clock. There were no protesters, news crews, or police cars in front of his house as he pulled into the circular driveway and took the narrow cement driveway that led to the garage. For a while the homeowner's association had kept up a daily picket of his property during the day (when he usually wasn't even there) but their enthusiasm for that had pretty much died out after only a few weeks, especially when the news crews stopped covering it. After that they'd satisfied themselves with calling the LAPD on him every few days and performing acts of vandalism at night.
So far there had not even been an incident of any kind since the night of the muratic acid in his hot tub. He had smoked pot in his backyard, had sex with Rachel on his patio furniture, and played his music loudly during the day on several occasions but no cops had shown up. Nor had there been any further acts of vandalism of any kind. Jake wasn't sure why they'd stopped calling the cops on him but he had a reasonably good idea of why the vandalism had stopped. Three days after the muratic acid incident — just as the issue had finally died in the press — Jake had spotted Frank Overland out walking his dachshund and had gone out to have a little chat with him.
"What do you want?" Overland said toughly as Jake put himself on the sidewalk before him.
"We need to talk," Jake said. "Or rather, I need to talk and you need to listen."
"I have nothing to speak with you about," Overland told him. "Now move out of my way or I'll have you arrested."
"But I have something to say to you and I'm not moving until you've heard it. Don't worry, it's short and quite to the point."
"Are you going to threaten me?" Overland scoffed.
"Yes," Jake said, staring into the man's eyes. "That's exactly what I'm going to do."
The first hint of disconcert appeared in his eyes at this point. "I should warn you," he said, "that I..."
"No," Jake interrupted, "I should warn you, which is exactly what I'm doing. I'm going to say this once and once only. You stepped way over the line when you had your kid come over to my house and try to burn me with acid. The bowling ball and the cross I can forget about if not forgive, but trying to disfigure me..." he shook his head. "You're no better than those assholes in the inquisition. I think you would've fit right in with them."
"I had nothing to do with any of that," Overland said.
"I think you did," Jake said. "And it will stop as of this moment. I'm a very rich man, Overland, richer than you could ever hope to be with your sleazy car lots. I also know a lot of people who would be willing to commit any number of criminal acts for the right amount of money. From now on, if something happens to my house, to me, to anyone associated with me, and I have a reasonable suspicion that you are behind it, I am going to talk to a few of my people, pass a few envelopes full of money, and there is going to be retaliation that is at least twice as bad as whatever you did to me."
"You can't threaten me like that," Overland said.
"Yes, I can," Jake said. "And I am entirely serious about this. If a bowling ball comes flying through my window again, a stolen car is going to go crashing through yours. If a cross should appear on my lawn, a pipe bomb is gonna go flying into your living room. If your son should appear on my property again for any reason — if I even suspect he's been creeping around on my property — a couple of thugs with prison tattoos are gonna grab him a few days later and put him in the hospital. And if I or anybody I know is injured in any way because of one of your stunts — if I even think that you're responsible in some way — your wife and your kid are gonna end up in the fuckin' morgue. Do I make myself clear, Overland?"