semester,” he paused, “explained that he was gay and had loved a boy, a fellow classmate, for years, and that he had come out to him and wanted my advice on what to do moving forward.”
“Did he tell you all this?”
“Yes, he had no one else to talk to.”
“Is it protocol for a teacher to counsel a student in this capacity?”
“He was a student and a friend, Ben. I was his mentor. And he had no one to talk to. Take it from me, there are not a lot of people around here to talk to talk to about things like that. At least not that I know of.”
“Does anyone know about this? That he confessed this to you?”
“No, I never told anyone! I have always believed it was up to an individual as to when they elected to ‘come out’ to the public. This was not my decision to make, and I would never have told anyone this.”
“Would he have told anyone that he spoke to you?”
“I don’t know,” he paused, “I cannot tell you for sure if that happened or not.”
“When he confessed this to you, what did you say?”
“I told him the same thing I’ve told other students who have come out to me.”
“And that is?”
“That they may be judged just for being different and that they had to come to terms with whether or not that was okay with them. That it’s a constant struggle in a town like this, but that I have found happiness in being my true self, and that they can too.”
“Is such authorization given anywhere?”
“Not particularly, but–”
“Do you see, though, how this might not work well for you?” Ben asked.
Dwight grew defensive. “Ben, I have never been one to do only what I was authorized to do. I believe in doing what is best for the students as learners and as young people trying to find a way in this often cruel world.” His voice was rising. “I mean, damn!” He leaned back in his seat and shouted. “What would you have expected me to do?”
“I am not saying what you did is wrong, Dwight. Truth be told, what you said… it’s the right thing to say, okay? But this is not going to help you here. Let’s just hope no one knows about this.”
“And if they do?” he asked.
Ben sighed again. “Dwight,” he started, “you’re a gay man in the fucking Bible belt of America.” He paused again, leaned forward, and continued, “And you have just been accused of raping and murdering a boy who no one else likely knew was gay. Now I don’t know all the facts yet, and you can bet your bottom dollar I will find them out, but your sexuality alone is going to hurt you. When the story hits tomorrow morning’s paper that the legendary chorus director Dwight Kerry has been arrested for the rape and murder of a local boy whose parents happen to be elites in this area, you will be glad your ass is in jail, because you likely won’t want to see the reaction from all this.”
“And how do you think you’ll fare out there, defending the community faggot?” Dwight asked.
Ben looked bewildered. He was surprised he asked the question the way he did. Ben was very worried about how this would work out for him. He was, however, embarrassed to admit it.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t know.”
The room fell silent. Dwight needed Ben’s help, but he worried about putting Ben in this situation. “Ben, if you can’t do this, I understand. It will likely ruin you and your career.”
For a brief moment, it satisfied Ben to hear Dwight recognize the impact this would have on his life and career. But in that same instant, Ben had never felt so ashamed. Here was a man whose life was on the line for something he claimed, determinedly, he did not do. And this was the same man who had befriended Ben and been someone to turn to during all his personal strife, and now all Ben could do was think about himself. He was ashamed.
Dwight interrupted Ben’s deep thought. “Seriously, Ben, I understand. Just please, I beg you… put me in contact with someone who can save me. I swear to you, Ben, I had nothing to do with this.”
Ben realized what he had to do. Dwight was perhaps the most unorthodox teacher that had ever taught – certainly in Freeden. He always went above and beyond the call of duty; in many cases, he had become the only father-figure some of the local children had in their lives. And while it was not ideal to counsel students in the ultra-sensitive climate of the modern day, particularly on issues of sexuality, he knew Dwight did it only because he wanted what was best for his students. And it was time show Dwight the same kind of love he showed so many others.
“Dwight, you have always been good to me. And to so many others.”
“Well, thank you, but–”
“Let me finish,” Ben interrupted. Dwight’s eyes widened. Ben continued, “When this God-awful town and its backward, selfish people brought me down, you always found a way to bring me up. And as simple as I can put it: when I was struggling with my marriage, you found a way to bring me up from my lowest points and keep me going. I owe you, and I am going to help you. But not because I owe you. I’m going to do it because I believe you.”
“Thank you, Ben. That means so much to me. I want you to know upfront I don’t have much saved and–”
“Your money is no good with me.”
Dwight began to tear up again. “Oh my… you can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“Ben, I cannot thank you enough.” Dwight rose from his seat, and walked over to give Ben a hug. He stayed seated, and Dwight wrapped his arms around him and held on as if Ben was his only hope.
Then Ben rose from his seat, and wrapped his arms around Dwight. Once the two finally dropped the embrace, Ben stood about two feet from Dwight, looked him directly in the eyes, and said, “Now, it only gets tougher from here.”
Ben still worried how this would look, but knew this was the right thing to do. If Dwight truly did not do it, he deserved Ben’s help. No one else here would defend him, other than a public defender who was forced to, and Ben knew it. And with the public defenders they had in this area and the influence the wrong people had over them, Ben believed Dwight had just as well tie his own noose.
Ben patted Dwight on the back and picked up his briefcase to leave. Dwight walked over to his chair and leaned against it with his arms straight and his hands grasping the back of it firmly. Ben knocked and the officer immediately opened the door, joined by five other officers standing outside the door. Next to them stood the Freeden Tribune editor Preston Hall, a representative from the local television station, and three reporters from newspapers in the surrounding area, all decked out in their company attire, their necks adorned with lanyards featuring their press badges. Ben did not believe the press was usually allowed in this part of the police department, but, sure enough, all of them were present, waiting for anything newsworthy that might come their way.
Dwight could not see the reporters from where he was standing, nor could they see him. Ben looked at them, hesitant to walk out for concern of what they may ask him. He had committed to defending Dwight, but he suddenly felt unready for the stigma that would accompany his defending an accused murderer. This accused murderer.
When Ben took a step forward, Dwight yelled, “Before you go, tell me you truly believe me, Ben.”
Ben had his back to Dwight, and once Dwight asked the question, he stood there in front of the officers, four of whom he knew personally, and the media representatives, realizing he had to say something.
He turned back to Dwight who now sat alone in the dark room. A man who had built his entire career in this community would, as Ben expected, now be shunned by it because of an accusation