GOODBYE USA: ONCE WAS A NICE PLACE -- THE STORY OF WILMA

Introduction

Around the first of January 2021 I began thinking that writing a book of fiction about a shady politician would be an interesting project. Inspired by media reports about Hillary Clinton over the years encouraged me to forge ahead.

During her public life, Ms. Clinton has, according to media reports, lied to the people of the United States of America time after time. Further, she attempted to dupe the people two times with her desire to become the Oval Office occupant.

In my opinion, the United States would cease to be the most powerful nation of all nations if she were our president because of, again in my opinion, her un-American behavior.

Her shenanigans gave me the idea of writing about Wilma Riser, a fictional woman hellbent on destroying the United States because she wanted revenge from people who wronged her while she was a United States senator.

Sometime around July of 2021, the thought occurred to me that the story about Wilma Riser could be interesting if presented as a movie. The script for the movie appears as the second part of this book.

This is not a book based on any part of Hillary Clinton’s life. Instead, it is a book inspired by my knowledge of media reports describing her behavior.

Larry Croft

April 21, 2023

Utopia to Waterloo

Birth Childhood Education

Wilma, the Soldier

Wilma Returns Home

1972 Twelve years later.

Wilma’s First Job

Brother Wilmer in the Pokey

Wilma Says Goodbye

Senator Riser in Washington

Tommy Tracker

The Sideswipe Incident

Newsman Nate

Donna Jeanne Marion

Wilma Resigns

Part Two

Wilma Turns Dark

Wilmer Brings Wilma Home

A New Woman in Town with Zeus in Tow

Revengeful Wicked Wilma

Wilma’s Manifesto

Wilma’s Follow Through

Jeannie and the Man

Remorse and Regret

The Bombshell

The Funeral

Enter the United States Department of Justice

Wilmer and His Attorney

United States Supreme Court

United States Penitentiary - Terre Haute, Indiana

A San Antonio Public Library

Tangier Hilton Garden Inn

Title

WILMA

A Work of Fiction Inspired by Media Reports of the

Life of Hillary Clinton

Copyright Notice

No reproductions or transmissions of this document in any form are permitted except for use as excerpts and quotations but only if you provide attribution to Larry Croft with reference to the title of this book Goodbye USA Once Was a Nice Place as the source of content.

Disclosure

Any resemblance of characters herein to persons living, dead, or apocryphal is coincidental except references to: George Washington, Elvis Presley, Adolph Hitler, John Gotti, Jesus Christ, Ted Kaczynski, Hillary Clinton, Bill (Slick Willie) Clinton, Dwight Eisenhower, Douglas MacArthur, and George Patton.

The Story

of

Wilma

Part One

Utopia to Waterloo

Birth Childhood Education

Given the name Wilma Sweet (her mother’s maiden name) Riser at birth, the daughter of parents who had it all, the little bundle of joy made her grand entrance into the world December 1, 1940. In a matter of minutes her father gave the little darling the affectionate name, “Sweet Willie”, a label that stayed with her until years later when a spiteful newspaper columnist gave her a different label.

Parents Stephen and Janice Riser gave Wilma and her older brother of two years, Wilmer, everything they wanted, so much more than most parents could. They loved her and she loved them. There were no indications Wilma would become the most hated woman in America.

Living a privileged life, Wilma traveled the world with her wealthy parents who received large monthly stipends from their parents. Then, when both Stephen and Janice inherited billions upon the deaths of their parents, they neither needed nor wanted to earn a living. Life was good, exceptionally good.

At an early age, Wilma learned her happiness varied in direct proportion to the happiness she gave others. She worked continuously making others happy. She could not have known unbearable misery would come her way in a few short years. She could not have even dreamed misery of any kind would drive her out of the running for what she believed was the most important job in the world, president of the United States of America. She, as did all teenagers, believed the world was her oyster. It is the notion: If I want, I will have.

Not surprisingly, Wilma, a member of Mensa International, excelled academically. She was her high school senior class president, valedictorian, and editor of the school newspaper. A cheerleader as well, she especially liked and excelled in performing the various dancing moves of cheerleading.

Popular among her classmates, especially Itsy and Bitsy, the three were often seen walking to and from school. But another schoolmate, Billy Victor, was another story – a pest really. His crush on Wilma annoyed her but she never revealed as much. One such time was typical. Billy attempted to impress Wilma as she, Itsy and Bitsy were walking home from their Indianapolis, Indiana high school.

Showing off doing back flips with his skateboard, Billy “accidently” brushed against Wilma. Billy looked at Wilma, saying “Sorry Wilma, pretty impressive, huh? Well, gotta go.”

Wilma acknowledges Billy with only a “Hi” but Itsy speaks up, asking Billy, “Hey, Billy what about us? We are here too. Don’t we rate a hi?”

“Billy replied with, “Oh, hi girls. Well, gotta go.”

Billy rolls onward with repeated backflips as the girls laugh.

Bitsy says, “You know, Wilma, he has a crush on you.”

Wilma, laughingly says, “Yeah, yeah. He really just wants my dad's money.”

Each girl giggles.

Bitsy responds, “ He wants more than your family money.”

Wilma enjoys Bitsy’s comment and, even knowing the answer, asks, “What's that supposed to mean?”

Bitsy says, “Guess.”

Itsy answers, “He tells everyone he is going to marry you someday.”

Wilma asks, “Have you heard him?”

Itsy attempts an answer. “Well...”

Bitsy, interrupts and finishes Itsy’s answer, “I have. He told me he'll love you 'til he dies. He said he will follow you to the White House.

Wilma's smile suggests she enjoys Bitsy's comment.

Continuing, Bitsy says, “And, if you reject him, he will get revenge. Then he hummed some country music song.”

Wilma, smiling, tells Bitsy, “Get outa here.”

The girls kick rocks down the street before parting company, laughing on the way to their homes.

Wilma looks back at Itsy and Bitsy when she hears them sing the song Billy hummed.

When entering her house, Wilma's mother Janice Riser greets her with a pleasant surprise, “Hey, sunshine. Got good news in the mail. I opened it. Just as anxious as you.”

Mom hands Wilma an envelope.

Wilma reads the first few lines.

Wilma cannot contain her emotions, “Oh my gosh. I'm in. I'm going to be a West Point Cadet.”

Wilma’s mom says, “Shouldn't surprise you. With your four-point grade average and being a member of Mensa International, did you expect rejection?”

“No. But you never know. Wilma and her mom hug.”

Wilma's father, Stephen Riser, comes home asking, “How are the girls?”

Still in a state of euphoria, Wilma says, ”Fine. Look at this. West Point accepted me. Proud of me?

Dad raises his eyebrows, lowers his head, and looks straight at Wilma in a teasing way. “Sure, but prouder if it were from Annapolis. Like mine was back in the day.”

All laugh when Wilma responds, “Grump. This is my first step to the White House. There, I'll make a difference. You'll see.”

Wilma attends the United States Military Academy and three universities of higher learning, earning degrees in chemistry, political science, and law. Determined to get top grades, she devotes nearly all her time to study. The time was spent well as she was recognized as the graduating class valedictorian at each of the three universities.

Deciding what to do after graduating from high school was easy for Wilma. She believed the best path to the presidency was serving in the military, practicing law in the private sector, and then become an influential U.S. senator.

Wilma wastes no time getting started.

Wilma, the Soldier

Her brilliant mind enabled her to begin those studies at the tender age of eighteen. The United States Military Academy at West Point, New York quickly accepted Wilma’s application but midway during her first year the Academy gave her the old heave-ho for failing to meet the physical requirements required by the academy.

This experience was the first incident in Wilma’s many years of kissing up to people that her successful approach failed her. At the time, this was her only real disappointment during eighteen years of living.

Her final known words according to fellow cadet, Wally Downey, as she leaves the academy fully embarrassed with bag and baggage, “I'm deeply troubled. Since grade school, all I ever wanted is to be the president of the United States of America.”

Supporting Wilma, Wally responded, “You can still be. You planned well, you are levelheaded, personable, wholesome, and well-adjusted.”

Wilma tells Wally, “I don't know now if it will happen. I wanted to first serve my country as a commissioned soldier with meaningful responsibility. Later, I wanted to work in the private sector while serving on the Indianapolis city council. Then I wanted to be elected to the United States Senate.”

In an effort to cheer up Wilma, Wally explains, ”You still can. Of course, there are no guarantees, and it will be a long hard road to travel. But, if anyone can become president, you can.”

“I wonder if I can achieve it all. Not measuring up during Beast has taken a toll. A big disappointment.“

“You can and you will. You not only will but will be a top-notch president. I know you very well. I love you too.”

Still discouraged, Wilma says in a matter-of-fact way, “Somehow, this doesn't seem like the time to talk about love.”

They face each other and kiss while holding hands.

Wally's hat falls from his head. Wilma picks it up. More relaxed, she intentionally places it cockeyed on his head.

They look at each other, smile, kiss again, and keep walking.

It is the last time Wilma views the Hudson River from the campus of West Point.

Wilma Returns Home

Wilma, calling from the Indianapolis International Airport, hears her mother, Janice’s voice, “Hello?”

Mom expresses surprise upon hearing Wilma’s voice, “Wilma, aren’t you in class?”

Wilma quickly disconnects her cell phone after answering her mother, “No. I washed out. I'm at the airport. Be home in an hour. I'll explain then.”

Mom rolls her eyes, turns off the vacuum sweeper, sits on the sofa leaning forward, and places her chin on both hands. Dazed, all mom can do is say “Whoa.”

Gathered at the family dining table for the evening meal, Wilma, her parents, and her older brother of two years, Wilmer, sit quietly. Uptightness abounds. The normal rhythm of passing dishes around the table is gone.

Wilmer passes a dish to Steven, his father, “Green beans, Dad?”

Dad doesn't respond, only stares at his plate

“Dad, this dish is getting heavy.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry Wil. Thank you.”

Similar lapses by all doom the meal.

Dad spills iced tea on his dress shirt. Wilma and Mom rush to help Dad.

Wilmer scoffs at food in his usual gung-ho way.

Mom begins the conversation, “We are sorry that West Point didn't work out for you.”

Dad weighs in saying, “Yeah, but don't let it get you down. You have everything going for you.”

All clumsily pass food dishes around the table.

Dad continues, “Transitioning from high school to an elite military academy is tough for everyone. Annapolis was tough for me.”

Wilma acknowledges, “Oh. I know. I don't know why I didn't realize the academy is different than civilian schools”.

Embarrassed, Wilma studies the faces of Mom and Dad.

Wilma continues. “I didn't measure up during Beast. I never thought it would –"

Interrupting, Wilmer asks, “What's Beast?”

Wilma’s facial expression shows annoyance. Still, she replies with courtesy, “Another word for Cadet Basic Training.”

The famished Wilmer puts food scoffing on hold, jerking his smiling face toward Wilma.

With all the finesse of a barnyard rat, Wilmer chuckles when looking straight at Wilma and say, “So, they booted your ass –”

Mom jumps up abruptly and points her fork toward Wilmer. Holds it to his face, and almost shouting says, “Wilmer. Watch your mouth. Show respect.”

Startled, Wilmer bolts upright in his chair. He says, “OK. But those generals are just whiffs of Foul Air from their Rectum Tunnels. You know, FARTS.”

Before sitting down and with a tear in both eyes, mom tells Wilmer, “I'm ashamed of you. Talking like this in front of your sister. She is an all-American girl. World-class. The girl next door. And you?”

Mom looks at Wilmer showing contempt.

Wilma says, “No general had anything to do with me leaving.”

Wilmer doesn’t stop, “OK. Whatever. With your black belt know-how, you should have shoved a knee into somebody's undercarriage.”

Mom finally gets her message across to Wilmer, “That's enough!”

Wilmer responds with, “Whatever. Gotta go. Good dinner, Mom. Thanks for the parenting exercise too.”

Wilmer folds his napkin. Rises. Leaves the room with an earsplitting horselaugh.

Wilma giggles, Dad chuckles, and Mom sits red-faced.

Wilma asks. “Where is he going?”

Dad answers, “Who knows?”

Mom, holding a cloth to her eyes tells Dad, “You know he will be out somewhere tearing up jack. Hope we don’t have to get him out of jail again. That year at the reform school didn't make him a bit better person.”

Dad reminds Mom, “And he still has those recurring dreams about Wilma's life cut short because of her own doings.”

Wanting to be part of the conversation, Wilma says, “He believes them too. Even the reform school psychiatrist says Wilmer believes them. And the school chaplain suggests Wilmer might be a genuine prophet.”

Dad looks at Mom and says, “ Well, I hope he turns his life around while we are alive. I don't want either of us going to our graves with him on the F.B.I. ten most wanted list. It could happen too.”

As she abruptly leaves the table, Mom says, “I worry about him all the time. I often cry myself to sleep. Anyway, I have heard enough.”

Dad says, “Well, I'm done too.”

Wilma tells both, “Me too. Sorry that I caused this. Even more sorry my brother has always been a blast of foul air himself.”

Dad laughs, Wilma grins, and Mom glares at both.

Wilma and Mom begin cleaning the dining area.

Dad goes to the living room and plops down in his easy chair with a book. Closes his eyes. Falls asleep.

Mom and Wilma continue discussing the topic in the kitchen.

Mom asks Wilma, “What are your plans now?”

“I'll apply to other schools. I'll recover. Hey, I have something to show you. Excuse me.”

Wilma leaves the kitchen and returns with a framed picture.

Wilma proudly tells Mom, “This is Wally. He might be my future.”

Mom studies the picture, then tells Wilma, “I'm impressed. I hope it works out as you want.”

“We'll see. I'm afraid he'll be sent to Vietnam. He helped me through this mess and all. I feel better knowing him.”

“That's good. I'm happy for you.”

“I'm still bothered. I had detailed plans on how I would climb the ladder to become the United States President. All planned out. Couldn't fail”.

“The Army isn't everything, you know.”

“That's not the point. The point is I had a misstep on the first rung of the ladder.”

“You haven't failed. And you won't. It's like Dad said. You have a lot going for you.”

1972 Twelve years later

The Riser family dines at the Stockyard Restaurant, Indianapolis' most upscale restaurant, celebrating Wilma's graduation from law school.

As Mom, Dad, Wilmer, and Wilma raise their champagne glasses, Dad offers the toast, “To the world's oyster upon her graduation from law school, her third graduation from a school of higher learning.”

Wilmer questions his father, asking, “Don't you mean the world is her oyster?”

And, dad clarifies, “Well, that too. But I meant what I said. She is here for the whole wide world.”

Wilmer acknowledges saying, “OK, Dad. Hear ye, hear ye. Let's hear it from the valedictorian. Speech. Speech.”

To which Wilma answers, “Hear ye, hear ye, dear brother. I gave my speech at the commencement. You heard me then.”

Dad settles the minor disagreement, “No kids. A speech isn’t necessary. We are proud of you, Wilma. You got those three degrees in record time.”

The festive evening continues into the wee hours with unexpected well-wishers dropping by.

Mom sits taking it all in with a smile on her face and a twinkle in each eye.

Wilma’s First Job

The following night, the excited Wilma hums a lively tune while decorating her newly acquired apartment.

She selects clothing in preparation for an employment interview and falls asleep holding Wally's photograph.

The next day, she meets Jack Thomas, the managing partner of the law firm Thomas, Lynch, and Ward.

In his office, Thomas offers her a cup of coffee. She declines but accepts his offer of tea.

Thomas breaks the ice telling Wilma, “You have an impressive resume, Wilma.”

Very pleased, Wilma merely replies with, “Thank you.”

Thomas dominates the discussion focusing on Wilma’s academic achievements, her father’s military service and her father’s business success.

“Three college degrees. And three perfect grade point averages. I don't see much of that. Never actually.”

Wilma responds politely, “Thank you, Mister Thomas.”

“I have never met your father, but I've always admired his business skills.”

Wilma smiles.

Thomas continues, “And his military achievements too. Many men would have given up five years of their lives to be a heroic wartime submarine commander as was he.”

“Yes, my mother, brother and I admire him too.”

Thomas nods and, before moving on with the interview, says, “Self-made billionaires are very rare. Very rare indeed. And you have excellent credentials as well. I know from my experience that law school can drive you nutty. Chemistry and political science can't be easy either.”

He then opens a folder placed in the center of his well-organized desk decorated with two Yogi Berra bobblehead dolls.

Thomas silently revisits a letter. Wilma can see it is from the U.S. Army.

Commenting on the letter’s contents, Thomas says, “Beast training is quite grueling. Well, you obviously didn't let it hinder your future. To tell the truth, I washed out of flight training. Disappointment comes to all.”

Wilma, believing a response is necessary, explains, “Failing at West Point has been my only real disappointment in life.”

As Thomas closes a desk drawer, he tells Wilma, “Judging from what I learned about you, I don't think you will have many disappointments during your life.”

Thomas rises from his chair and motions to Wilma, “Come with me. I want you to meet the team.”

He shows Wilma around and introduces her to his partners, Mike Lynch, and David Ward. She nods expressing satisfaction. She notices and appreciates looks of acceptance.

Back in Thomas’ office, Wilma is thrilled to hear Thomas tell her, “Wilma, I am pleased to offer you an entry-level position. Think it over. Please call me tomorrow. We can talk about salary, benefits, and other matters.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Thomas.”

Jack Thomas escorts Wilma to the ground-level entrance. Wilma extends her hand. They shake hands in a business-like way.

Outside and out of sight from TLW, Wilma hops, skips, and jumps. She talks to herself while looking at her reflection. She loudly exclaims, “Whee, life is great.”

People look. Some laugh. Others shake their heads. Cars slow. Some stop. Drivers honked horns as they gave Wilma a thumbs up.

Even a little boy gets into the act asking his mother, “Mom, what's wrong with that woman?”

“Hush. She can hear you. I'll explain when we get home.”

Wilma fit in well at the firm. Her successes were many. Even though Wilma knew nothing lasts forever, she did not know employment at TLW is her last utopia.

During her first attempt to seek public office and after five years with TLW, Sweet Wilma, a staunch democrat, successfully ran for a seat on the Indianapolis city council.

After serving one term on the city council, Wilma ran for the office of U.S. senator without running for any state office. Being adored by enough voters, she won the first time around, becoming a U.S. senator.

After about 2 years at TLW, Wilma is disappointed again. Not with herself but with cocky brother Wilmer.

Brother Wilmer in the Pokey

Wilma enters the main entrance at the Marion County Jail in Indianapolis as another person leaves. He holds the door open for Wilma. She walks to the visitor’s room.

Wilmer speaks. “Good of you to come.”

Wilma doesn’t hold back, “I didn't come to be good. I came with bad news. Mom and Dad have been killed.”

“Huh? How? Did Billy Victor send a hit man? He always said he would get us all.”

“In your line of work, you know all about hit men, don't you? No, they were hit by an earthquake, not by an earthman.”

Wilma emphasizes the syllables quake and man.

“Oh, says Wilmer, “Anyway, we know Billy thinks Dad swindled his dad out of a quarter-billion dollars. We better watch our backs.”

Wilmer sits motionless pondering. Wilma waits.

Finally, Wilmer says, “Only you and I remain. And you might bite the dust before me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You yourself once said he is out to do you in for giving him the cold shoulder. He wanted to marry you.”

She tells Wilmer, “That was just an expression.”

Wilmer raises his eyebrows, looks her in the eyes, turns his palms up, and shrugs his shoulders.

Disgust shows on Wilma’s face, “Is that all you have to say? Don't you even want to know where or the details?”

“Does it even matter?”

“Yes. Their last thoughts were probably full of disappointment because of you.”

Wilma gives him the evil eye and adds, “You should care but now that you just inherited two-billion dollars, you don't.”

“You're getting the same thing.”

With no attempt to hide her anger, Wilma asks, “How long are you here this time? What is this, number three?”

“Don’t know.”

“Why are you here?”

Wilmer responds in his usual nonchalant way, “They say spitting on the sidewalk. But they don't have evidence.”

Wilma ignores his cockiness while asking, “Are you guilty?”

“Innocent 'til proven guilty. With that law degree, don't you know these things?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Besides, I'm a pillar in the community. I'm in church every Sunday. Sometimes even Wednesday.”

Wilma rolls her eyes. Wilmer grins.

“Someday I might be your friend. Until then, I'm only your sister. And, not by choice.”

“Yeah, boy. Until you need my help. Right?”

“If I ever need your kind of help, I'll be in dire straits.

“It'll happen when you feel the bullshit of politics. Those jealous politicians will run all over you. You are hearing this from a prophet, remember?”

The fed-up Wilma says, “That's it. I'm outa here.”

“Hey, don’t go. Just kidding. Do I still get an invite to the White House if you are elected?”

“Not if. When. It will happen if voters don't learn about you. I don't want your kiss of death.”

“Just like prison inmates hate child molesters, politicians hate upper crust people like you. They won't tell you, but they do.”

Wilma calls the guard. He opens the door for her exit. She doesn't look back.

Wilma Says Goodbye

TLW attorneys and staff assemble in a large conference room. A catering service brings food and drink. The mood quickly becomes festive. Jack Thomas is the first to speak, "It's the thing to say at going away parties but we sincerely mean it, Wilma. We hate to see you go. You are a remarkable person. Like everybody employed here, you are top-notch.”

Applause.

Thomas calls upon Lynch and Ward to comment about Wilma, “Now, Mr. Lynch and Mr. Ward have a couple of words. I told the two marathon talkers to keep it short. That this party is for Wilma, not for them.”

Laughter all around.

Mike Lynch steps up to the podium, “Thanks a lot, Mister Boombox.”

More laughter.

“Yes, and I will keep it short. Wilma has done wonders for us."

Mike walks over to a large window. He views gorgeous Indianapolis from the fortieth floor as he continues with his speech.

Mike turns toward Wilma.

“Not only for us and our clients but the community as well by serving as a member of our city council."

Mike winks toward Wilma. “And now, she is off to Washington to be one of our two senators. Please join me in giving Wilma the best advice she will ever have.”

“Wilma don't be a politician. Be a human. Best wishes.”

Mike returns to his seat as David Ward steps up to the podium.

And I will keep it short as well. I am too polished to call our distinguished senior partner some kind of a jerk as he called me. Downtown Indianapolis

Laughter from all but especially loud from Jack Thomas.

Ward continues by telling the group, “We are a diverse company. As I look around, I see every color of the rainbow. Wilma has always accepted and respected us for what we are inside. That's how it should be.”

Applause and kudos from all.

Ward continues, “My partners and I, all Black men, greatly appreciate the respect we get from Wilma. We know that we would have announced visitors to her home and served coffee fifty years ago.

More applause.

“We love you, Wilma. Be sure to come back and visit. Best of luck. This is for you from all of us.”

Ward hands Wilma a gift-wrapped box. She opens the box and sees expensive jewelry. She tears up.

The party ends about an hour later with the employees personally wishing everything good for Wilma.

Wilma tells the group, “Thank you all so much. I'm looking forward to another utopia. Just like the utopia of working here.”

Lights go out. Everyone leaves. The enthusiastic chatter is indistinguishable.

Senator Riser in Washington

Almost immediately after being sworn in as U.S. Senator Wilma Riser, one highly respected newspaper columnist with the catchy moniker “Newsman Nate” labels her “Slick Willie” because she, the columnist lied, has a knack for lying her way out of tough situations.

At one point the same columnist planted a seed in the people’s minds that Wilma dislikes black people and might be a lesbian because she never married. That unfounded and malicious mischaracterization of her lifestyle stuck for the duration of her public life, as did the nickname Slick Willie.

Perhaps Wilma was lesbian – nobody knew and unlike in the bigoted earlier days of the country nobody other than the uneducated even cared. But she was not bigoted. Just the opposite. She spoke often about the importance of diversity in a well-balanced society.

Her single term in the U.S. Senate was received well by her constituents but far from great away from home. The mass media no longer spoke well of her as did the Indianapolis media. Her enemy list grew daily. She did not understand because she was the same person as always. After a few weeks, she did understand; her colleagues were leaking lies to the print and broadcast outlets.

Her senatorial and media enemies were no different than enemies in all office settings throughout the country. Workers resent and search for ways to sabotage any newcomer who shows them up. And show them up she did. With objective forward-thinking views, over time she acquired a long list of enemies from all political persuasions, offending seemingly everyone at different times depending on the issue discussed.

As Wilma’s enemies attacked her with vengeance, many of her supporters believed the rumors and became former supporters. Her enemies spewed baseless claims – downright lies really – daily. She tried to continue undaunted but, in the end with her reputation tattered, she chose not to run for reelection.

Wilma experienced firsthand what vindictiveness can do to one’s reputation.

The woman, who as a girl devoted all her attention to presiding over the United States of America, was distraught. As in the days of her childhood, Wilma continued to be the girl next door, extending genuine politeness and courtesy to all. She even avoided verbal fighting with people who enjoyed putting her down in public even though she could not avoid them in her thoughts.

Especially galling was when a newspaper columnist – the same columnist that labeled her Slick Willie – said, she “never was more than a political lightweight.”

Why was this columnist so mean-spirited? Wilma believed likely for the same reason as were her congressional colleagues. They resented the fact Wilma Riser came across as an all-around world-class person outshining all others. It was their resentment for Wilma the media picked up on and reported different stories numerous times, giving rise to the public finally believing she must be the most vicious woman in America. The public erroneously reasoned if the media says so, it is so.

(Wilma later learned that Newsman Nate developed a hatred for her many years earlier).

Many of Wilma’s congressional enemies called her a prima donna, a mischaracterization that could not be farther from the truth. Wilma was not just a team player but probably the most effective lawmaker in the U.S. Congress at the time.

Nearly all bills introduced by Wilma passed and became law. She carefully and objectively studied the pros and cons related to each bill before voting. Any parent would be proud to claim Wilma.

Still, with Washington being Washington, being perfect was not enough. Just the opposite. Her political associates resented Wilma not only for her work but because they were snooty people. Listening to them, one would think Wilma was the only one of 535 who did not know which fork to use.

Wilma understood better what she knew all along. The people living in the fruited plain, not Washington insiders, were correct. She heard hundreds of disrespectful stories about morally and ethically bankrupt Washington politicians before becoming Senator Riser.

She saw firsthand that Washington, D.C. is indeed a swamp, the swamp all presidential candidates disingenuously promise to drain. As it is with abortion and gun control issues continuously in the news, nothing changed. The swamp still reeked of stench in the form of politicians, including the arrival of new politicians.

Wilma was shocked to learn the deplorable way lawmakers kicked the can.

She was appalled to see how her associates formed camps and bullied those whom they disliked for whatever reason.

She was livid when voting nay to convict during the impeachment trial of a president, impeached only because the president’s wife was the victim of a Harper Valley PTA-like vendetta. Only a joke of a reason gave the House impeachment and the Senate trial the appearance of validity with respect to the U.S. Constitution.

Wilma Riser became convinced almost all congressional members are the vilest specimens of humanity imaginable, also a long-held belief of the citizenry. Toward the end of her public life, she commented, “When I am troubled, as a Christian woman I ask myself what would Jesus do while these people ask what would John Gotti do?

Of course, as expected, her congressional colleagues and most media outlets used her comment as high-grade cannon fodder. Her numerous enemies leaked to the press falsely and with intense joy that Wilma’s heart is dark.

Still, she wanted to be the nation’s president because she knew she was good for the people. However, because of all the negative publicity directed at her, Wilma also knew she was unelectable. She announced publicly that her disillusion with the Washington political game was such that she no longer had any political party affiliation. And that she would leave political life behind.

Wilma did not know then that an incident occurring on her first day as a senator turned out to be a harbinger of her entire time in the senate.

Tommy Tracker

On Wilma’s first day as a senator, a man knocks at Wilma's open office door and introduces himself, “Good morning, Senator. I'm Tommy Tracker. I want to welcome you to the United States Senate.”

Wilma rises from her chair, walks around her desk. They shake hands. She motions toward a leather chair.

Wilma, “Thank you for coming. Please be seated.”

Wilma sizes up the clean-shaven Tracker as he walks to the chair nearest her desk. Standing about five feet and eight inches, she estimates his weight at a chubby 250 pounds.

Tracker tells Wilma, “Allow me to tell you about me. I'm in my 33rd year as a senator. Notre Dame alumnus. Medical Doctor and Doctor of Philosophy.”

Wilma responds, “Very impressive.”

“Yes. My wife passed away last year. Very beautiful. Very charming. Much like you. I sure do get lonely.”

Wilma sees Tracker as a pompous bore, telling herself: Mrs. Tracker had to go to an extreme but she at least got rid of him.

She turns her back to Tracker to conceal her disgust then returns to face him.

She smiles with a question mark face, “Much like me? You don't know me.”

With an abundance of confidence, Tracker boasts, “I will. Besides, we will see a lot of each other. My office is next to yours. Well, got to go. Meetings, you know.”

Wilma asks, “May I tell you about my background?”

The presumptuous Tracker says, “You bet. I hear you are remarkable. We'll use your background as a topic of discussion at a fine restaurant in a few days.”

Tracker leaves. Wilma stares at her desk and shakes her head.

Wilma speaks to her image in a desk mirror, “He won't get me in a restaurant or any social situation outside of work.”

Then, Wilma receives a telephone call the next night, “Good evening. This is Wilma.”

“Senator Riser, Tommy Tracker here. I would like you to be my guest for dinner and a stage play Friday.”

Wilma turns down the invitation, “That's very nice of you. Thank you for the invitation but –"

“Ah, no buts accepted.”

Wilma politely explains, “Well, I learned many years ago to avoid social activities with work colleagues.”

Tracker asks, “Why on Earth would you do that?”

Wilma, with frustration in her voice, says, “Mixing the two all too often leads to resentment among others in a way that impedes progress. I'm sorry.”

Tracker, also frustrated, tells her, “First-year senators learn very early they have to color between the lines to get along.”

Wilma loses interest in the conversation, shakes her head, and flips the speaker switch on.

While folding laundry and looking at Wally’s picture, Wilma decides to mildly confront Tracker, “Are you threatening me, Senator?”

Tracker, sensing anger in Wilma’s voice, backpedals, “No, of course not. I'm sorry I sounded threatening.”

Wilma says as she smiles at Wally’s image, “OK. Again, thank you for calling and thank you for the invitation.”

Tracker disconnects with no further comment.

Wilma slowly disconnects while still admiring Wally's picture.

The Sideswipe Incident

As Wilma walks alone after shopping, she is startled by a reflection of a man following her.

She attempts to lose the stalker by stepping inside three stores.

Believing the stalker is gone, Wilma continues down the street and enters Jim’s gym for her daily workout.

About fifteen minutes into her workout, Wilma sees the stalker.

He paces the sidewalk, peers in the gym window intermittently during Wilma's entire workout.

As Wilma changes equipment, the stalker pretends not to see her.

He turns his back to the gym, reaches inside his coat pocket, takes out a cell phone and places a call.

The stalker says, “Yeah, she knows I'm tailing her. No, she can't hear me. She tried to ditch me twice. She is a real looker. Anyway, what do you want me to do?

Senator Tommy Tracker responds, “Call me at home tonight after dinner.”

To which, the stalker asks, “ Want me to take care of her now?

Tracker’s voice becomes a deafening level, “No, she owes me this. No woman rebuffs me!

The stalker, taken aback, quietly says, “OK, I'll call you. She's changing clothes now. Should be on the street in ten minutes.

“OK Nate. Good job.”

Wilma changes from workout attire to casual attire and when preparing to leave, she scans the room. She doesn't see the stalker.

But when leaving, she unknowingly walks within six feet of the stalker as he leans against a light post.

She cannot see his face behind the magazine he holds ridiculously high; however, she can see, below the magazine, a cartoon character on a T-shirt with the letters WV.

Wilma begins crossing the street. A car peels out from the curb leaving the smell of rubber. Wilma screams. The car is soon out of sight.

A couple of hours later, Wilma awakens to the smile of a nurse.

The nurse asks, “You are doing very well. Do you feel any pain?”

“Thank you. No, no pain. Please tell me why I am here.”

The nurse explains, “A car struck you as you crossed the street. You were in the crosswalk. A witness said you were walking with the walk light.”

Wilma searches her memory and says, “Now I remember. What is my condition?”

The nurse answers, “Vital signs are good. No broken bones. No bruises. Your shopping bag protected you. The doctor will probably release you tomorrow.”

The concerned Wilma asks the nurse, “Were other people hit?”

“Only you. Several witnesses believe you were hit on purpose. The police are investigating.”

Wilma wants more answers, “What does the driver say?”

“The driver left the scene. Was hit-and-run. I'll check on you later. Ring if you need me.”

The nurse leaves. She greets two uniformed police officers, Hank and Molly. They enter Wilma's room.

Hank tells Wilma: “We are happy you are in good condition, Senator. What can you tell us about the accident?

“I don't really know what happened other than a car sideswiped me.

Hank continues, “Could you see the car?”

Wilma tells Hank, “Not good. I can't describe it. It came from behind. I was busy protecting myself.”

Molly adds, “We have reason to believe the act was intentional. Do you have any enemies that could have done this?”

“As a politician, I have had many disagreements. But with nobody that would do this.”

Wilma's body language suggests otherwise.

Wilma talks about Tracker, “Well, Senator Tommy Tracker has been quite caustic since I refused a social invitation from him five years ago. Even now, he never lets up.”

Molly makes notes in a small notepad.

Hank winds up his inquiry, “Thank you, Senator. We'll investigate further and be in touch as needed.”

Wilma smiles, “Thank you.”

Hank and Molly smile and leave. From there they find and interview Tracker.

Newsman Nate

Inside the Washington Capital newsroom, Newsman Nate sits in his cubical stretching his ear to hear the conversation with his boss and another reporter, the reporter assigned to cover the story.

Nate’s boss asks, “Anything new going on with the Senator Riser story?”

Reporter: “Not with me. But Nate got a tip just now. I didn't hear the conversation.”

Later, Nate’s boss spots Nate at a table in the break room. Newsman Nate sees his boss coming and becomes rattled.

The boss says, “Heard you got a tip about Riser.”

Nate nervously answers, “Yeah, if you want to call it a tip. I don't. Some kook. I didn't even take notes.”

Nate’s boss stares at Nate with a questionable expression.

He asks, “No notes?”

“Naw. Like I said. Guy was kooky.”

Nate becomes noticeably nervous, bounces his right leg repeatedly.

Boss notices. Looks at Nate. Raises his eyebrows.

Nate’s boss accuses Nate, “Sounds to me like you are hiding something.”

Nate doesn't respond or look at the boss, who leaves in silence.

Donna Jeanne Marion

After five years in the U. S. Senate, Wilma realizes she is not liked by most members of the House or Senate. She is ready to throw in the towel and give up public service. Still, she wants to become the U.S. president. She feels she has met her Waterloo.

Desperate, Wilma seeks some answers from the person she believes is her only friend, Donna Jeanne Marion. Donna Jeanne, who works in the office of a fellow senator, gave Wilma a dog a few days earlier telling Wilma, “My boss asked me to find a good home for this lovely dog. You are the only person I would ever trust with Zeus. That act sealed a friendship too strong to fail.

They discuss Wilma’s situation at a Washington D.C. sidewalk café. They begin with discussing senatorial issues but five minutes in, Wilma suddenly interrupts with an uncharacteristic outburst while banging her fist on the table.

Wilma explains, “I'm sorry. But I have to ask. Why do the senators not like me? I work hard to do the right thing.”

“I know what you mean. I see it too. It's the same everywhere. In government and the private sector.”

“What do you mean? I've been in the private sector. Everyone was my friend.”

Donna Jeanne says, “You were fortunate. Most people resent those who show them up. And you do that with class. Who are you talking about?”

Wilma answers. “Everyone but you. Senator Tracker pesters me nonstop. I'm being stalked and that newspaper guy, Newsman Nate. He loves trashing me.”

“You're not alone with Tracker. We all avoid him when we can. Everyone calls him Senator Tactless.”

Wilma says, “One person even told me I'm the only senator that doesn't know which fork to use. Another said I don't know how to act in public. Have I met my Waterloo?”

“Probably not. You are proper and professional. But Newsman Nate might become problematic.”

Wilma tells Donna Jeanne, “Everyone is so vicious.”

“Do you know the big thing your peers resent about you?”

Wilma suddenly perks up, “No. Tell me.”

”To them, you come across as a goody-goody."

Wilma wants to know, “Why?”

“Jealously. You are a wholesome achieving woman. Men don't like women one-upping them.”

“What should I do?”

Donna Jeanne answers, “Stay just as you are. They know your work has merit.”

Donna Jeanne starts to talk but hesitates.

Wilma says, “Go on.”

Donna Jeanne continues, “They still laugh about Tracker telling you it would be easier urinating up a rope than draining the swamp.”

Wilma with a slightly raised voice says, “Well, the swamp needs draining. Most members think Congress is the land of opportunity for their personal enrichment. Not for the people's enrichment.”

Wilma emphasizes the word personal while shaking her head slowly.

Donna Jeanne looks at the check and takes money from her purse.

Wilma asks, “Anything else I should know?”

Donna Jeanne doesn’t mince words, “Yes. Newsman Nate. Be careful. He and Tracker are as thick as thieves about their dislike for you.”

“I wish I knew why,” says Wilma. “Then, maybe I could fix things. Does anyone know why?”

“I don't know. I think their goal is to bring you down. They have most of the men senators calling you the bitch.

Wilma excuses herself, “Excuse me. I want to think.”

Wilma steps a few feet from their table.

Donna Jeanne watches. Wilma dabs her eyes with a tissue.

As Wilma returns, Donna Jeanne shakes her head and dabs her eyes too.

Donna Jeanne has more to say about Newsman Nate, “Nate looks for dirt on you. He only gets made-up stories. He knows it but prints them anyway. He is smart. He knows how to protect himself from lawsuits. A real jerk.

Wilma drums her fingers on the table while Donna Jeanne talks.

Donna Jeanne says, “People love reading about shady politicians you know. Nate milks it for all it's worth.”

“How does he keep his job?”

Donna Jeanne answers, “He kisses up to his boss. Rumor has it Nate has something on him.”

“Oh? Like blackmail-type goods?”

“Yes. Also, many around here believe Nate has some kind of a leadership position with the underworld. I've heard he even controls the nation's president. And he keeps such a meaningless job as a way to keep out of the limelight.”

Wilma, with growing curiosity asks, “Why doesn't Congress investigate?”

“Not sure. Perhaps Nate has goods on our esteemed lawmakers too. These stories are just rumors. Nobody knows.”

“Wow. If true, our colleagues won't dare meddle with Newsman Nate's hornet's nest.”

Wilma feels an information overload. She takes two deep breaths.

Donna Jeanne agrees, “Probably not.”

Wilma final words before leaving the restaurant are, “Thank you for telling me what others won't.”

As they leave, Donna Jeanne gives up talking to the spaced-out Wilma. She attempts humor by waving her hand across Wilma's face. “Hey, are you in there?”

Wilma doesn't reply. She, deep in thought planning her next move, has a closed mind.

As Wilma looks forward from her first days in the U.S. Senate, her vision for the future is clear.

Wilma Resigns

Wilma addresses the nation the next day as she stands on the steps of the U.S. Capitol. Via televised evening news, Wilma shocks the country, “When I came here, I wanted so much to make the United States a better place. I wanted to make a difference. I failed. I am extremely discouraged and ashamed of the deception used by both the House and Senate members.”

Spectators in attendance gasp in unison having never heard anything like this, a public announcement trashing all peers.

Wilma then denigrates the people, “And to the voters, I ask for what do you use your heads? Hat racks? You elect the scummiest to represent you. Since childhood I wanted to be the president of what was once a nice place and a great nation.”

Wilma senses crowd anger building. The anger worsens to a fever pitch. She takes a deep breath, “I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to return the country to what the founders envisioned. You people and your elected officials are mere pimples on the butt of progress.”

Wilma fields streams of invectives. People spit on her. She uses a tissue to clean her face and arms. She composes herself and attempts to finish, “A few minutes ago, I submitted my resignation letter, effective today. I will continue working hard from the outside to make a difference. That I promise. It is my goal. I will not fail.”

People storm the steps to have at it with her.

Capitol police officers rush to rescue her. While fighting the crowd, they place a fence separating her and the spectators.

With order restored, Wilma proceeds. “I will provide a way for the people to come together in the spirit of one for all and all for one. I have a plan and this time I will not fail to achieve my goal. This is not the end of me.”

Wilma becomes rattled. With trembling hands, a shaky voice, and a red face, she manages to finish, “I've been stalked. I've been hit by a car, a hit the police say was intentional.”

Spectators throw items, some dangerous, at Wilma. She ducks all but for a live rat that hit her left elbow.

She rubs her elbow and continues, “I’ve been called all the spiteful names imaginable. Even a bitch. I will tell you this. If I must wear the name, I will play the game. Further, I will tell all I know and all I think I know to anyone who asks.”

The angry crowd continues its out-of-control tongue-lashing.

With her lips pressed into the microphone, Wilma talks over the unruly audience. “Believe me, I have much more work to do. In the words of my hero, the famous General Douglas MacArthur, I shall return.”

With a raised voice, Wilma concludes, “I will make a difference. MARK MY WORDS.”

She storms off not looking back. Reporters clamor with unanswered questions.

Back in Indianapolis, her supporters were stunned when hearing the announcement. And further stunned when she said with conviction: If I must wear the name, I will play the game, although none knew Wilma’s mind.

Humiliated and with the speed and suddenness of lightning, she self-exiled, never again to be heard as Wilma Riser until shortly after a day in the not-so-distant future when she rose like the legendary bird, Phoenix.

The Mythical Phoenix

Depiction by

Friedrich Justin Bertuch, 1806

Wikipedia

Newsman Nate feels victory. Standing behind the reporters, he hastily writes notes preparing for his next story. When Wilma concludes, Nate makes a beeline to his trashy cubical.

Just above Nate’s desk, a dusty photo of Wilma with a hand drawn middle finger pointing to her nose hangs crookedly on the wall.

Nate finishes an article about Wilma's resignation address and hands it to his boss, Jonathon (aka Johnny) Thornton.

Jonathon frowns, “Sure you want us to go with this?”

The elated Nate responds with, “You bet. Why not?”

The gruff Jonathon puts Nate in his place, “Suggesting she is a lesbian because she never married is dumb. We'll lose all our readers. The country has long passed such bullshit ideas.

Jonathon hands the article back to Nate, telling him to, “Change it.”

Nate changes the wording and hands the article back to Jonathon and ask, “How's this?”

Jonathon leans into Nate’s face and raises his voice, “Damn you Nate. Find something good to write about her. You have never genuinely praised her. It has always been faint praise. Do it this one time.”

Jonathon rips the article, tosses it on the floor and leaves Nate’s cubicle in a profanity rage.

Heads pop up over cubicles. Many smile. Some laugh. Most shake their heads.

One man raises his fist above his head as a symbol of victory and he is heard throughout the office, “Right on, boss. We're on your side. Hot dog. Life is good.”

That evening, while packing to leave Washington, a television news report distracts Wilma. She stops packing and watches.

The reporter speaks matter-of-factly in a professional voice, “Today, four days after Wilma Riser resigned from her senatorial position, her whereabouts are unknown. Police suspect foul play.

Wilma gasps and staggers to her sofa.

“And in a possible related manner, the body of Senator Tommy Tracker was found in his Washington apartment. Early reports from the police indicate the senator died from a self-inflicted gunshot.

Wilma screams.

The reporter ends by saying, “In a note left by Tracker, he expressed deep remorse about attempting to kill Senator Wilma Riser with his car. We will report more as information becomes available.”

Wilma asks herself, “Is this because I told Hank and Molly that Tracker hassles me?”

Wilma’s guess was spot on. Hank and Molly interviewed Tracker minutes after they left Wilma at the hospital. According to Tracker’s colleagues, he was visibly rattled and never recovered.

Wilma’s telephone rings. She answers, “Yes.”

Unidentified man, “Have you heard about Tommy?”

Wilma responds with, “Senator Tracker?”

Unidentified man, “Uh-huh.”

Wilma says, “Yes, I heard. Who are you?”

Unidentified man, “Doesn't matter. He was my best friend. I've known you and have followed you for years. Here is a warning. Someday, I'll get you. Until then – ”

Wilma repeats, “ – Tell me who are, or I'll hang up and call the police.

Unidentified man, “Until then, I'll follow you wherever you go. You won't know me. My disguises are foolproof. I promise to get your pompous Mensan ass.”

Unexpectedly, Wilma recalls the time Billy Victor shows off his skateboard skill while Wilma, Itsy and Bitsy walked home from school.

Flashback

Billy looks at Wilma, saying “Sorry Wilma, pretty impressive, huh? Well, gotta go.”

Wilma acknowledges Billy with only a “Hi” but Itsy speaks up, asking Billy, “Hey, Billy what about us? We are here too. Don’t we rate a hi?”

Billy replies with, “Oh, hi girls. Well, gotta go.”

Billy rolls onward with repeated backflips as the girls laugh.

Bitsy says, “You know, Wilma, he has a crush on you.”

Wilma, laughingly says, “Yeah, yeah. He really just wants my dad's money."

Each girl giggles.

Bitsy responds, “ He wants more than your family money.”

Wilma enjoys Bitsy’s comment and, even knowing the answer, asks, “What's that supposed to mean?”

Bitsy says, “Guess.”

Itsy answers, “He tells everyone he is going to marry you someday.”

Wilma asks, “Have you heard him?”

Itsy attempts an answer. “Well...”

Bitsy, interrupts and finishes Itsy’s answer, “I have. He told me he'll love you 'til he dies. He said he will follow you to the White House.

Wilma's smile suggests she enjoys Bitsy's comment.

Continuing, Bitsy says, “And, if you reject him, he will get revenge. Then he hummed some country music song.”

End of flashback

Wilma senses a Eureka moment, “I know who you are. It just clicked. You are Billy Victor. The same man who has been stalking me, aren't you? Billy? Billy?”

Caller disconnects.

Wilma enters a high-rise professional office building the next day. She scans the directory showing more than two-hundred names of men and women grouped by profession.

She enters the elevator and selects the twentieth floor.

She finds and enters the office of Dr. Miguel Sanchez. Her wristwatch shows 1000 hours, military time.

Dr. Sanchez, a psychologist about sixty-years-old and average in all aspects introduces himself and initiates the meeting without exchanged pleasantries.

Dr. Sanchez asks Wilma, “Ms. Riser, tell me about yourself and why you are here.”

Wilma describes her picture-perfect childhood and summarizes her concerns.

Wilma tells the doctor, “Here in Washington, everything turned upside down and...”

She describes in detail the treatment she received from her first day as a senator.

Wilma concludes with “...so you see, I feel like I am a complete failure and I really know I'm not.”

Dr. Sanchez acknowledges her comments in a professional and compassionate way.

Wilma's wristwatch shows 1045 hours as the meeting ends.

Feeling much relieved, Wilma says, “Thank you so much Doctor and I will seek the peacefulness a long respite can provide as we discussed.”

Wilma leaves with a smile on her face and pep in her step. She doesn’t know, however, the law is interviewing brother Wilmer regarding her disappearance. During the early days of the investigation, Wilmer claimed to have dumped Wilma’s body in the Gulf of Mexico at Wilma’s request. Now, however, the law is supicious.

Deputy Sheriff Charley Small approaches Wilmer at a small Indianapolis area airport while Wilmer polishes his Cessna Citation, “Gotta ask some questions about Wilma. Where is she?”

Wilmer answer, somewhat similar to but different than his earlier claim, contradicts his earlier statement that he personally spread Wilma’s ashes over the Gulf of Mexico, “Somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. That's what I read.”

Small challenges Wilmer, “What do you mean that’s what you read. You already admitted to dumping her in the gulf yourself.”

“Aw, hell. I forgot about that.”

“You best level with me Wilmer. Don't be the same wise guy you were in high school.”

Wilmer, as cocky as ever responds with, “OK. I'm different than I was during my troublemaking high school days.”

Charley counters, “Ha. Rumor is you are a hired killer and run drugs from South America. Yeah boy. That's different. Anyway, tell me all you know about Wilma.”

Wilmer shows his unique sideways grin, “First, do I look like a bad boy? If you have proof, arrest me. I dare say you don’t, and you won't because you can't.”

Charley accuses Wilmer with inflaming language, “You are the same as in high school. Leopards can't change their spots and assholes can't change their colors.”

Undaunted, Wilmer hits his stride, “Second, she was gone without a trail after she told us all to stick it.”

Looking more like a gravel pit rent-a-cop than a carefully chosen deputy, Charley scribbles on a tobacco-stained notepad.

Wilmer continues, “Could be that the perverted politician killed her and shoved her into the Gulf of Mexico before shooting himself. That's the rumor.”

Charley, mocking Wilmer’s grin says, “Bullshit, you are her only known living blood relative. You know more than all the newspapers put together.”

Wilmer shrugs his shoulders and resumes grooming his plane.

Charley, “OK, have it your way while you can.”

Wilmer, “While I can? What's that supposed to mean?”

Frustrated, Charley throws up both arms, drops his notebook, picks it up, spits a pressurized stream of tobacco juice between his teeth, and leaves in anger.

Wilmer watches Charley, cups his hands around his mouth, and lets loose with a loud guffaw and yells, “See you in church, Hoss.”

Wilmer continues laughing to further frustrate Charley while polishing the left engine nacelle of his immaculate Cessna Citation. He holds a can of German beer in his other hand.

On her way to the Washington National Airport, Wilma pays a visit to Clay, a man who has prepared false identification for her and a fake passport, all in the name of Terry Slider.

Wilma, while waiting for her flight, sees a uniformed police officer with 2 men in dark suits wearing sunglasses. They talk among themselves while looking toward Wilma.

The paranoid Wilma believes the men are following her. Visibly shaken, she places a Washington Redskins cap on her head.

She quickly recalls her jailhouse discussion with brother Wilmer.

Flashback

Wilma, “Someday I might be your friend. Until then, I'm only your sister. And, not by choice.”

Wilmer answers, “Yeah, boy. Until you need my help. Right?”

Wilma responds with, “If I ever need your kind of help, I'll be in dire straits.”

Wilmer’s final answer is, “It'll happen when you feel the bullshit of politics. Those jealous politicians will run all over you.”

End of flashback

Wilma places a call to Wilmer. She leaves a voice message, “Hey, brother. You were right. I'm in dire straits. Please help. I'm taking a long-deserved trip. I emailed you a list of instructions.”

The three men make written notes and leave without approaching Wilma.

A very nervous Wilma boards her flight.

She takes her first-class seat next to a man she seems to know.

The man seated next to Wilma is Wally Downey, her friend from their days at West Point. Wally, recently separated from active duty and, like Wilma, is free to travel the world. They planned this trip together.

They travel throughout South America, Central America, and Europe. Wilma is very careful not to share her plan for bringing the people of the United States together in the spirit of one for all and all for one. She does, however, share most of her traumatic senatorial experiences with him.

Wilma is both shocked and pleased with Wally's reply, "Sweetheart, I have always admired you. Here are my email address and cell phone number. Please contact me anytime you want my help. I'm here for you."

After six months, they part company, Wilma returns to the United States, and settles in Glendale, Arizona where she lives near Luke Air Force Base. There, she befriends one of the few female fighter pilot instructors, Major Liz Curry.

Wilma and the Major spent hours at a nearby general aviation airport where Curry taught Wilma basic and advanced aircraft maneuvers. After eighteen months, Wilma becomes a licensed commercial pilot with instrument, multi-engine, and glider ratings.

Shortly thereafter, Wilma relocated to Wichita , Kansas where she learned the ins and outs of piloting jet aircraft. She excelled in all aspects of handling the Cessna Citation CJ4.

Wilma contacts brother Wilmer by email, telling him she placed an order for a new CJ4 that he should pick it up in eight weeks. She instructed him to hanger it at the only Clyde, Arizona airport.

She also tells Wilmer that she will be at Clyde in three weeks, and she hopes her new residence will be ready for occupancy.

Part Two

Wilma Turns Dark

Wilmer Brings Wilma Home

As construction crews put the finishing touches on Wilma's 8,000-square-foot bunker 30 feet below the surface, Wilmer is almost asleep sitting against a fence post, chewing on a wheat straw while watching the progress when a news alert comes over the radio, barely heard over the construction noise.

The reporter tells the listeners, “We have just received word that the long search for former U.S. Senator Wilma Riser has ended.”

Wilmer bolts to life. Yanks the radio closer to him and ups the volume.

“With no new leads and no body found, authorities said today her remains are believed to be in the Gulf of Mexico.”

Wilmer says to himself, “She'll rise like the Phoenix. Yeah boy, the new Wilma.”

The reporter concludes with, “We will follow the situation and bring you more details as they become available.”

The same day Wilmer receives a call from Wilma asking him to pick her up at the Clyde bus station the next day.

He calls his wife, pet name, Sweets, to tell her he will be a few weeks longer on the current project than planned. The conversation doesn’t go well.

Wilmer opens the discussion, “Hi there, Sweets. I'll be here another month. Gotta keep clients happy, you know.”

Sweets quickly shows her anger, “Sure. But my gosh. You are never here. The pillar of our community and a dedicated church leader. You are never here to attend the boy's activities.”

Sweets' voice becomes unbearably loud.

Wilmer pushes his cell phone to arm's length. He continues eating potato chips and upsets cheese dip in the bed.

Quite angry, Sweets says, “Are you really the business consultant you claim? Maybe I should believe the stories I hear that you are a hired gun and a drug runner. Huh?”

"Aw, c'mon, Sweets. You know better. If I were, somebody would have offed me by now."

"Talk here is getting louder and louder. If it turns out to be true, my next step is divorce. I'm almost there now.”

"Never happen. Sorry, I'm not home much. Gotta make a living and – "

"– No. You don't gotta make a living. We have accumulated a fortune from your earnings, and we still have a couple of billion that we inherited from your parents.”

Wilmer, having enough, ends the discussion, “I have to scram. Working on a large property improvement project.”

They say their goodbyes.

Wilmer goes to bed but doesn’t sleep well. His eyes closed and sitting against the headboard with hands behind his head, he thinks about sister Wilma's new home and about his failing marriage.

The next day, Wilmer meets Wilma and her small dog, ZEUS, upon her return from a world tour.

They greet, hug, and get into Wilma's new luxury car. They drive a few miles up the road and stop at Eatup Fast Food joint.

Wilma and Wilmer sit at the counter with coffee, burgers, and fries.

Facing a mirror Wilmer sees a man prowling around Wilma's car.

Turning his head toward Wilma, Wilmer says, “Excuse me. I'll be right back.”

From her table, Wilma watches Wilmer in the parking lot where Wilmer sees a man crawling under Wilma's car.

As Wilmer closes in and looks under the car, the man releases pepper spray from an aerosol can.

The man, who speaks with an annoying raspy voice, , tells Wilmer, “That'll teach you dipshit.”

The man runs as Wilmer recovers his eyesight quickly and returns to Wilma in the dining room.

Wilma asks, “What's that all about?”

Wilmer says, “Some man prowling around your car. Don't know who. Got away.”

Wilmer intentionally avoids discussing his thoughts about “Raspy Voice.”

They finish their burgers and begin the drive to Wilma’s new home.

Wilmer starts the discussion, “Your new home is 15 miles from Clyde. Enjoy the scenery. Do you like your new set of wheels?”

Wilma answers, “I like. Thank you.”

Wilmer boastfully tells her: “State-of-the-art all the way. Bulletproof too.”

Wilma replies, “Thank you for getting it and thank you for developing my property too.”

Wilmer dismisses her with a hand wave, “Don't mention it. Wait until you see your brand-new Cessna Citation. Looks just like mine. You'll love it.

“Don't worry about anyone learning all these things belong to you. You are completely invisible.”

Wilmer hesitates. His facial expression concerns Wilma. She asks, “Something wrong?”

“Maybe. You won't like what I say next.”

“You better tell me. I don't want any surprises.”

Wilmer glances at Zeus and says, “OK. Better let me take your dog. Someone might recognize it as Wilma Risers.”

Wilma responds firmly, “Never. If Zeus goes, I go. He is old and ailing. Only in death will we part.”

Wilmer has one more piece of advice, “OK. Whatever. By the way, use the name Gertie from this day on. Forget those other names we talked about. It’s better to start fresh now that you are beginning another new life.”

They arrive at Wilma's new home.

They drive through the one-mile lighted tunnel with a hidden entrance and into Wilma's bunker garage.

A graveled road leading to Wilma's dwelling sits on top of the tunnel.

The sight of a forty-year-old flatbed truck sitting alongside an ugly double-wide appalls Wilma, “Is this what I thanked you for? You said I would be living in an upscale home.”

“Relax, relax dear sister. What you see is a façade. We want people to think you are dirt poor. Remember? Inside you will see luxury like you have never seen.”

Wilmer reassures her, “Just what you want. You can live here self-exiled and incognito until the cows come home. Like?”

"Sure do. Let’s go inside. I want to see for myself if it is as upscale as you say."

They enter. Using a handheld remote, Wilmer exposes a shabby hidden elevator. They descend one level.

Wilma is not impressed, “Whoa. I don't like this elevator one bit.”

“Relax Sis. Only use the elevator if you need to get upstairs quickly. Like answering the door. Otherwise, use the garage for coming and going. Let me show you what you have in your underground castle.”

They exit the elevator in the living quarters where Wilmer leads Wilma quickly through the house except for one room. Then, that room, the command center.

Wilmer boastfully says, “This is the command center. Equipped with state-of-the-art electronics. You can view every square inch of your 1,940 acres with the wall-mounted monitors. I'll give you the grand tour later. Oh, yeah. Property bills are not your responsibility. Call me if you need maintenance.”

Wilma is amazed and tells Wilmer, “You really did well.”

Wilmer reminds Wilma, “Remember, play the part of the eccentric woman who can't find her butt with both hands.”

Laughter from Wilma who says, “That's not me, but whatever you say.”

“Nobody will connect you with anything nefarious. Not even the F.B.I.”

“You are a swell brother. Tomorrow we will get down to business. I have some ideas.”

Wilmer acknowledges, saying, “Let’s."

The next day finds Wilma with Zeus and iced tea, mixed drink for Wilmer, and water for Zeus.

Wilma gives Wilmer an overview of her vicious plan then she reveals her planning documents and describes her plan in detail.

She looks at Wilmer, “That's it. What do you think?”

Wilmer is dumbstruck, “No. No. If you have anger and want to off people, go for murderers, rapists, and child molesters. Nobody cares about them. You won't be suspected. Not the way your fertile mind works.”

Wilma becomes adamant, “You don't get it. I've never been murdered, raped, or molested. But I have been abused psychologically. I'm going to bring down all those who disrespected me, including a certain news writer. I want your help.

Wilma pauses for Wilmer to think and then says, “I've suffered more verbal abuse than anyone can imagine. First, since Tracker died, that jerk Newsman Nate is the source of all my problems.”

Wilmer rubs his chin and says, “Nate, Nate. Never heard of him.”

“You wouldn't. He came to Washington about the same time as I. Nobody heard of him until I became his punching bag. He spreads falsehoods around, most are verbal, but some are in print.”

Even though their meeting is most serious, Wilmer finds time and a way to be Wilmer, “Maybe you deserve a few punches. I wanted to punch that pesky kid following me all the time years ago.”

Wilma responds with, “Not funny. Not one bit funny.”

“OK. I didn't mean it. But remember I said it.”

Wilma says, “This isn’t the time for your funnies. Listen to me. I have only one true friend in the Senate. She tells me he gets all the dirt on me from my colleagues. Then he circulates lies about me. All lies.”

Wilmer asks, “Have you talked to him?”

“No, and I won't. Only God knows my hatred for him. Anyway, I soon will be the source of all his problems.”

They agree to meet the following week at Orlando International Airport for further planning.

Wilmer decides to hitchhike to the Clyde airport where his plane is parked. He plans on going home.

Wilmer puts a latex glove on each hand.

Wilma asks, “Why the gloves?”

Wilmer explains, “I wear them when I don't know who I'll see. Leave no prints. Good protection, you know.”

Wilmer, standing on the road, sees a stopped pickup truck. He makes out a raised hood against the moonlit background.

The driver closes the hood. Gets in the truck and speeds toward Wilmer. The truck screeches to a halt slightly beyond Wilmer. Backs up.

The truck driver asks, “Where to?”

Wilmer is quick to recognize the raspy voice. And he is quick to remember where he first saw Raspy Voice.

Flashback

At the Eatup Fast Food joint, Wilma and Wilmer sit at the counter with coffee, burgers and fries. Wilmer sees a man prowling around Wilma's car.
Wilmer excuses himself, “Excuse me. I'll be right back.”
From her table, Wilma watches Wilmer in the parking lot where Wilmer sees a man crawling under Wilma's car.
As Wilmer closes in and looks under the car, Crawling Man releases pepper spray from an aerosol can and with a strong raspy voice says, “That'll teach you dipshit.”
Crawling man runs.
Wilmer recovers his eyesight quickly and returns to Wilma in the dining room where he explains what little he knows.

End of flashback

Wilmer tells the driver, “Clyde airport. Drop me off anywhere in town if that works for you.”

Truck driver, “Sure thing. I'm headed to Clyde. I'll take you to the airport. Toss your stuff in the back.”

Traveling pretty much in silence, the truck driver breaks the ice by asking, “What's with the gloves?”

Wilmer gives the driver a what's-it-to-you look. And says, “I pick my nose and scratch my privates a lot. Don't want to get my fingers messy.”

The driver squints his eyes and gives Wilmer a sorry-I-asked look.

Wilmer keeps the conversation going, “I'm surprised you picked me up. I could be a hitman.”

The truck driver answers with, “Naw. No hit man. Just like that old joke. It's unlikely two hitmen would be in the same truck.”

The driver laughs with gusto.

Wilmer looks worried. He grips the Glock in his pocket.

The mileage sign shows Clyde 14 miles.

The driver pulls a handgun from inside his jacket. Points it squarely at Wilmer's face and says, “On second thought, maybe I am.”

Wilmer disarms the driver with a karate-like chop. The driver brakes the truck to a stop.

Wilmer slams three quick dynamite punches in the driver's face, telling the driver, “I'm going to be here with questions 'til you breathe your last. Who sent you?”

The driver can only gasp with labored breathing. Wilmer persists, “Talk asswipe. Who sent you?”

“My boss.”

“What's his name?”

“I forget.”

Driver's labored breathing worsens.

Wilmer keeps the pressure on the driver, “Why are you here?”

“To off you and your sister.”

Wilmer asks, “Why?”

“I forget.”

“Who is WV on your license plate?”

“My boss.”

“Again. What's his name?”

“I forgot”.

Wilmer’s patience wears out. He coldcocks the driver; The driver passes out. Wilmer waits a minute or two.

The driver regains consciousness.

Wilmer talks with intense anger, “We're going through this until you talk or die.”

“Go to hell. I don't have to talk. All I have to do is breathe until I die.”

Wilmer says, “Have it your way. One last question before you meet the grim reaper. How did you find me?”

“You are one dumb careless son of a bitch. You'll never know.”

Wilmer says, “OK. That's it.”

Wilmer drags the driver from the truck, repeatedly stomps the heel of his heavy cowboy boot on the driver's head, pulls him to a ditch, and rolls him in the ditch.

Wilmer uses the driver's gun to place two bullets in the driver's head.

Wilmer speaks his final words to the driver, “Who is the careless dumb son of a bitch now?”

Wilmer takes the driver’s truck to town, and parks it in the Happy Night Motel parking lot.

Wilmer ditches the latex gloves, puts on another pair, and calls for a taxi.

Wilmer opens the back door and gets in.

Wilmer tells the cabbie, “Take me to the airport please.”

“Sure will, friend.”

When performing a thorough preflight at the Clyde airport ramp, a surprised Wilmer finds an exterior-mounted tracking device under the plane's baggage compartment.

He disables the device, gets a fresh pair of latex gloves from the plane, pulls on the gloves, and calls for a taxi.

Wilmer slides into the back seat.

The cabbie asks, “Where to friend?”

“The Happy Night Motel.”

The cabbie replies with a question, “You got it. Hey, didn't I just take you to the airport?”

"Yeah, forgot something.”

The cabbie asks, “Know why I remembered you?”

“Why?”

The cabbie says, “Small tip.”

Wilmer says nothing. Cabbie drives on.

At the motel, Wilmer pays the driver without a tip.

With extreme sarcasm, the cabbie begins to berate Wilmer, “Hey, what did I just teach you?”

Wilmer answers, “To tip big. You taught but I didn't learn.”

Cabbie stares at Wilmer, mutters something unintelligible. Gives Wilmer the finger.

Wilmer opens the familiar red pickup truck door. Hops in and drives off.

He sees the red liquid remains of Raspy Voice next to the ditch where they parted company.

Wilmer surprises sister Wilma, with loud knocking. Zeus barks. The coyotes howl.

A sleepy Wilma answers the door, “What in God's name --?”

Wilmer quickly answers with panic in his voice, “-- Forget God. Get a flashlight and your car keys. Follow me.”

Inside Wilma’s bunker garage. Wilmer finds a tracker mounted under the car.

The light bulb in Wilmer’s head changes from a dim glow to a bright light, “Now I know how he did it.”

Wilmer disables the device.

Wilma wants to know, “Did what?”

“Found me.”

“You got me up from a sound sleep with this cock-and-bull story. You owe me an explanation. Big time.”

Wilmer says, “OK. I’ll tell you everything I know and think I know. You have to promise you will stay awake. This could take a long time.”

Wilmer proceeds, “I found a tracking device on my plane. That guy at the EatUp fast food joint must have put this tracking device on your car. My guess is I was tracked from home to the Clyde airport and then we were tracked to your place.”

Wilma asks, “Sure?”

“You ask too many questions, dear sister.”

“You got me out of a sound sleep. There is more to this. You owe me a detailed explanation.”

“OK. Here's the deal...”

Wilmer tells Wilma most of what happened while he was gone. He doesn't talk about the murder.

“He had orders to kill both of us.”

“Kill both of us? Why?”

“Could be a million reasons. I don't know.”

Wilmer offers his Glock to Wilma, Here, take my Glock. You might need it.

Wilmer leaves and travels to the Clyde airport in the red truck for his trip home.

Wilma reads the next day’s headlines from the Clyde Chronicle: Body Found in Ditch Man Shot Dead

Wilma looks at Zeus, “Zeus, remind me to talk to Wilmer about this next week.”

To himself, Zeus barks, “You know he killed the man. He's as crooked as my hind leg.”

At the Orlando International Airport the next day, Wilma arrives to accept delivery of her customized twin-engine Cessna Citation. After acceptance, she parks it on the ramp and exits with Zeus.

Wilmer arrives and parks his identical Cessna next to Wilma's.

She proudly shows Zeus' custom-made bathroom inside her plane.

Wilmer rolls his eyes when viewing the doggie door, artificial green grass, and yellow fire hydrant.

Wilma asks, “Like it?”

Wilmer turns his head to conceal his facial expression.

Looking away from Wilma, he merely says, “Yeah boy.”

Inside the hotel dining room, they discuss Wilmer's safety concerns and Wilma's plans over a tasty meal of loin of lamb and all the trimmings.

Wilma shows the Chronicle article to Wilmer, asking, "Do you know anything about this?"

"Yeah. I had to off a man when I left you last week. It was either me or him."

"Why was he after you?"

"Like I told you. He was instructed to kill both of us."

"HA. There is more to this."

Poker-faced Wilmer pretends not to hear.

"He faked a broken-down truck. My guess is he waited for me to leave your place knowing I was with you. Maybe he was out to get me first. Maybe he would have gone back for you after he offed me."

"He could have driven to my quarters and taken us both. Why didn't he?"

Wilmer's answer, "Probably feared what he would encounter so far from the highway."

Wilma had more questions, "How did he know where I live? That bothers me."

"He didn't at first. I now know it was him I saw prowling around your car at the burger joint. He put a tracking device on your car and followed us to your place."

"Sure?"

"No, but it's a good guess because it makes sense and it fits other things I know."

Wilma needs more information and asks, "What other things?"

Wilmer, weary from Wilma's questions changes course of the conversation, "You ask too many questions, dear sister. It's all history now. Let's move on."

"Ok. Here is what I came to talk about. I'm going to... "

Wilmer looks at his watch as Wilma bores him with details.

Wilma finishes as Wilmer looks at his watch again. Fifteen minutes.

Wilma says, "...so that's it. Are you game?"

"If you are sure you want this, I'll help. It's my field of expertise."

"You sound excited. Like a boy waiting for Santa to bring a dog. You sound confident too."

"Why not? The way I work is easier than operating a shoe store."

A New Woman in Town with Zeus in Tow

Zeus

Wilma lived as Gertie with her small dog, Zeus, at her off-grid home near the unincorporated town of Clyde two hundred miles from Phoenix. Her little man accompanied Wilma everywhere. Zeus was the only animal she genuinely loved and protected as one troublemaking teenager learned when Wilma took Zeus for a medical checkup in Clyde.

When answering his question if her little “pipsqueak” was battery-operated, said Wilma, “Give me a dog, not kids of your ilk, any day. You started causing your parents problems when you turned fourteen. Little Zeus will still lick my face when he turns fourteen. You best be on your way before I have Zeus enlarge that ugly hole between your cheeks.”

Whether the teen understood which of four cheeks to which Wilma referred is not known. Anyway, he shoved one of his middle fingers squarely in Wilma’s face and did what cowards of all ages do when they cannot engage in an intellectual conversation; he bolted, hightailing it to parts unknown.

The teen was not the first of her many dustups in Clyde. Dustups from A to Z were common when she came to town for shopping.

As with the teen, nobody had a clue about her public identity. With her money, she accomplished what regular people can only dream of achieving. The locals had not the foggiest idea of the steps she took to conceal her Wilma Riser identity. Buying fake identification documents was especially easy for the wealthy, but seemingly dirt-poor, Gertie..

Unknown to the locals was the fact Wilma found a way to launder her roughly two-billion-dollar inheritance. And they did not know she kept one-half million, all cash wrapped in plastic, stored in a fireproof and waterproof safe, in a futuristic bunker home under a shabby-looking double-wide mobile home.

Further, they did not know she had a new armored luxury car. Wilma affectionately named the car Ike and kept it inside the bunker constructed with reinforced concrete walls and a reinforced concrete ceiling. The double-wide was a remarkably effective facade.

Wilma arranged for her brother, Wilmer, to handle the purchase of three-square miles measuring one mile wide and three miles long immediately after self-exiling. There, as she travelled the world, Wilmer supervised the construction of her home, including a paved one-mile lighted tunnel from the public road into her bunker garage. A graveled lane ran parallel to the tunnel and ended alongside her doublewide.

The tunnel was hidden from public view at the road and had a horizontal sliding cover that blended in with the surface no matter the elements. The tunnel ended under the double-wide, keeping Ike completely out of public view. All any curiosity seeker snooping around could possibly see was a forty-year-old pickup truck Wilma named Patton and the ugly double-wide. Above the surface, the double-wide and Patton made for a seemingly abandoned property.

According to legal records, a shell company named DarkMoon owned the property.

The locals believed she was nothing more than an eccentric woman living in a shabby home. To further the perception, Wilma drove Patton around town exclusively. She also spread some of Zeus’ poop on her baggy clothing when going into town.

She kept the truck visible near the double-wide when not using it to give the illusion she was home. Only when leaving the area did she venture out in Ike and then only when assuring herself, via long-range outdoor security cameras transmitting to an in-car display, there were no onlookers.

Wilma was as safe as was the president she still wanted to be.

Because Wilma travelled frequently and for long periods of time, she equipped the property with state-of-the-art security technology. Both she and Wilmer had the ability to monitor the property remotely and each sibling could fire multiple tasers installed inside the home from anywhere on earth with pinpoint accuracy. Too, Wilma and Wilmer equipped the residence with a mace-like spray, a spray she frequently used against black bears and mountain lions, that would send an intruder away without delay.

With her parents deceased, only brother Wilmer, also with inherited wealth equal to that of Wilma’s, knew Wilma Riser was still alive.

Wilmer lived near Indianapolis, two thousand miles from Wilma, and would only tell "regular" people she intentionally overdosed on sleeping pills because everyone turned against her and he, in his words, buried her at sea. But, when talking to the media and law enforcement, his lies and exaggerations generally were not believed.

To completely befuddle law enforcement and the media, Wilmer lied and claimed he personally spread her ashes somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico and lost the cremation documentation. Further, since Wilmer flew his own plane, as did Wilma, there were no aircraft rental documents that could disprove his story. And there was no record of his flight over the gulf because he claimed to have made the trip VFR without filing a flight plan.

The mass media and law enforcement, suspecting foul play, investigated Wilmer’s unlikely story but gave up the ghost because there was no evidence a crime was committed; there was no body, no death record was located anywhere in the country, and people lost interest in the story. Even the IRS accepted Wilmer’s falsehood and made no attempts to investigate why she stopped filing income tax returns.

For a few months, there were reports of “Wilma sightings” in South America. Some people, probably crackpots or farceurs, claimed to have seen her with Elvis Presley and some claimed to have seen her with Adolph Hitler even though each departed this world years earlier.

Wilma had no nearby neighbors. People only saw her when she shopped alone in Clyde. Then, they only knew her as a shabbily dressed, and malodorous woman, exactly what Wilma wanted.

Townsfolk only thought of her as an eccentric weirdo. Two women were once overheard talking about Wilma. Said one: “It would be nice if she made herself presentable by taking a bath before meeting us good people.” And the reply, “Brushing her teeth, combing her hair, and getting rid of those baggy grimy jeans would help too.”

All discussions about Wilma were likewise.

Little did the townsfolk know!

Wilma was far from the frumpy woman they poked fun and sneered at behind her back. Her frumpiness was a facade meant to hide her real appearance and to preclude people from connecting her to Slick Willie Riser.

She was an attractive woman. When away from home and dressed up, she would turn heads wherever people congregated. In those settings, she looked years younger than her fifty-plus years. She looked to be in her early forties. Women wished their daughters would emulate Wilma even though they were secretly envious of everything about the urbane woman.

She successfully separated herself from the Wilma of her earlier days. Because of her inherited wealth, Wilma could afford all the cosmetics and cosmetic surgery necessary to transform herself from frump to beauty queen and from beauty queen to frump.

And that she did. She paid $100,000 to have her finger and thumb prints surgically altered. She did not know if the procedure was successful until a few years later when law enforcement suspected her of plotting to destroy the United States of America. As Wilma learned later, the procedure was not necessary because her prints were not on file as she supposed. “Oh well”, she opined, it is better to be safe than sorry.

Even after her supposed death, the locals did not know Wilma Riser was alive and well, embarking on a dark life as Gertie while hiding in plain sight.

Wilma began her well-thought-out mission of vengeance in earnest when, on one sunny day in May with Zeus in tow, she parked her Cessna Citation CJ4 that she named Douglas next to another CJ4 on the ramp at a private Orlando area airport. Other than different tail numbers, the planes were identical in every way when viewed from the outside. One was identified with tail number N1001W and the other N1002W, with 1W being Wilma’s and 2W being Wilmer’s.

However, the plane’s interiors were different. 1W was beautifully designed with every amenity for comfort imaginable including a private bathroom for Zeus with a doggie door and a novelty yellow fire hydrant. 2W, used for cargo only, had a dingy look that most people would call ugly. The cockpits were identical, each with the most advanced high-tech instrumentation.

Both CJ4s were purchased by the Riser siblings and registered to a wealthy and legitimate California winemaker for the purpose of concealing the siblings’ identities. There is no indication the winemaker was ever questioned about the identities of those using the airplanes or for what purposes.

Wilma arranged to meet Wilmer at an Orlando five-star hotel for a serious discussion. She had a plan in mind, and with Wilmer’s help in his field of expertise and his willingness, they would execute the plan. Most people with a likely suicidal plan would think long and hard. Not Wilma. She decided the day she self-exiled that everybody who had wronged her would relinquish their bodies – with pain – and collateral damage did not matter. She committed herself to succeed and was quite willing to relinquish her body as well.

With Wilmer, a man who arranged execution style killings for organized crime bosses as well as for anyone else with money, killing people was not personal but strictly business. Dispatching people was no different than, in Wilmer's words, "operating a shoe store."

In the beginning, Wilmer limited his expertise to only arranging what he called happenings. The well-respected churchgoer never got his hands or his reputation dirty, only his character. To pass the time, Wilmer acquired two hobbies: mastering the art of video editing and hacking computer networks. He especially enjoyed engaging in video trickery for entertaining acquaintances.

As time passed, he built a profitable drug-running operation between South America, Central America, and the United States while maintaining his upright community image. It was important to him that he spent time with his family of four, a wife of twenty years and their two teenage boys. Too, for maintaining the perfect image, he would always be in church on Sundays.

Wilmer was the perfect partner in crime with Wilma as probably not one person on Earth, including his wife, had the faintest inkling of his activities. When asked what he did for a living, the affable and admired Wilmer would reply: “I travel the country as a pro bono business consultant.” If questioners persisted by asking for more details, Wilmer typically responded with wording something like, “Aw, c’mon man. You ask too many questions.” He would laugh and slap the questioner’s back. That is as far as the curious cared to go.

Wilma surprised and shocked Wilmer while dining in their world-class hotel enjoying a quite tasty meal of loin of lamb roasted with marjoram, apple purée, baby artichokes with mint, ratatouille, baked custard with a caramel glaze, and polenta with pumpkin.

She told Wilmer she would do what Senator Wilma Riser could not do: shake up Washington in a way nobody could believe. If only she were the nation’s president, she mused, everything would be good for everybody.

After she clued him in, Wilmer told her that her plan is absurd and that if she wanted to do good for everybody, she should put out contracts on rapists, child molesters, and murderers. They are the real lowlifes according to Wilmer. His reasoning: Hit men could escape scot-free easier taking out scummy people than if taking out high-profile politicians or mass media personalities.

Wilma had no part of his argument, explaining she was never raped, never molested as a child, and was never murdered. But, she explained, the Washington politicians and the mass media caused irreparable damage to her career, preventing her from doing good work for the people of the United States of America. She added it was time to wipe out the reprobates.

Revengeful Wicked Wilma

The woman once known as “Slick Willie” became “Wicked Willie”. Evil had been brewing within Wilma since, “that newsman convinced the people to kick me to the curb.” Wicked Willie was, by then, the most bitter person on Earth.

She returned home the day following the Orlando meeting after parking Douglas on the ramp at the distant uncontrolled airport she used to prevent the locals from learning she was not the eccentric they knew.

When arriving at the entrance of her property, Wilma did a thorough job of surveilling for anyone who, if spotting her, could become problematic. Satisfied that she was alone, she put the binoculars in her travel bag, drove down the one-mile tunnel, parked Ike inside the bunker garage, picked up Zeus and walked to the living quarters inside the 8,000 square foot bunker.

There, after changing into clothing more comfortable – baggy pants – she went straight to her lab, a room with dozens of chemistry books and seemingly millions of jars containing different chemical compounds.

Wilma always enjoyed experimenting with chemicals much as she did during her college days. To her, working in the lab provided the same therapy a 9 to 5 husband, a husband she never had, from working in his woodworking shop. This day, however, she was not in the lab for therapy. Wilma was on a mission.

She read literature about unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs), also known as drones, and experimented with chemicals for the purpose of shooting one-inch capsules from 1,000 feet AGL with pinpoint accuracy. Wilma planned to fire capsules that, when hitting a human target, would shatter and produce lethal chemicals, chemicals that would painfully flow throughout the target’s body.

It was important to her that the capsule would arrive at the target from an altitude of 1,000 feet above ground level to frustrate observers attempting to blast the drone out of the sky. At that altitude, the drone operator could have the drone perform vertical, horizontal, and diagonal zigzags to confound anyone and everyone attempting destruction from the ground.

Wilma considered and promptly dismissed the likelihood of an airborne attack upon her drones. Not to worry, she told herself. After all, she would execute simultaneous surprise attacks with lightning speed in different parts of the country. Law enforcement personnel could not know or even guess the locations of Wilma’s targets in advance of the happenings.

Neither the military nor any hobbyist would have enough time to react. If the drone had happened to be destroyed, her thinking was, so what? With no onboard pilot, no harm done. Too, with her money, she would replace any lost drone or come up with a plan B.

Next came testing.

Wilma placed a marker 1,000 feet from a platform outside her double-wide, came back to the platform, and fired. In a word: BINGO. Immediate success. To be sure the first test was not a fluke, she performed five more tests. Again, success.

The next testing phase, an acid test that would be difficult for the typical person on the street to achieve, was easily conquered by Wilma. Because of her fertile mind, she worked out the solution while enjoying a fifteen-minute breakfast of ham, eggs, and biscuits with gravy.

Her options for conducting the acid test were to do so from either her property or from a remote location. She chose a remote location to avoid arousing curiosity in Clyde. She had Wilmer hire a man living in another state to perform all testing with his own drone. Wilma did not own a drone so if anything went wrong, she would be comfy while watching remotely from her bunker.

Another valid reason for outsourcing the testing was that, if everything went south, penalties imposed by the government would not haunt her. She knew the drone operator would not point the finger at her or at Wilmer because the drone operator knew, “someone” would come after him and his family without delay if he blew the whistle. And,, of course, he wanted to enjoy the money.

Wilma never worried about anyone turning her in to the authorities. Why should she? Arranged through Wilmer, all of Wilma’s hired guns were paid one million dollars in cash up front and were told, “If you know what is good for you, you will do right or lose your family as well as your own life.” They all knew the threat was a promise as good as gold. And each liked the fact the illegal cash payment was not taxable.

Wilma knew how to cover herself.

Each of the five airborne tests were successful. She watched remotely as each fired capsule hit its target – dice embedded in a small pumpkin, one die showing one dot and the other showing six dots – with pinpoint accuracy. Wilma gleefully boasted to Wilmer about the successful tests and dubbed the live job as a lucky seven.

Wilma’s Targets

Wilma had many targets:

Newsman Nate,
The swamp, consisting of every Member of Congress – 435 representatives 100 senators – and,
The three media outlets she genuinely believed colluded in bringing her down.

Six weeks after the final acid test, Wilma was ready to go live. With Wilmer, they planned several executions to occur during a two-year period.

If anything were to go wrong, it would not be because of poor planning. Sure, they told themselves, mechanical issues, drone operator illness, or a whole host of matters nobody could anticipate might foil their meticulous planning.

Determining showtime had come; they moved forward.

Nate the Chosen

During her first days in the Senate, Wilma only had an intense grudge against the newspaper columnist who made libelous statements about her for the world to read. But she held grudges for many more. With a list much longer than the name of one person, she planned to take a pound of flesh from them later. Too, her anger toward Newsman Nate grew 8888888888

It could look bad for her, she correctly reasoned, if a large number of her former acquaintances were killed on or even near the same date, especially in such an unheard-of one-on-one manner.

But for now, Wilma felt insulated from law enforcement because Newsman Nate had received many death threats over the years in addition to one attempted assassination – an attempt that occurred before Wilma entered national politics. It would be a stretch to even think of Wilma as the culprit because over the years she seemed to roll over and play dead when Newsman Nate spewed venom her direction.

However, Wilma learned more about Newsman Nate during her short time as our senator. She learned that Billy Victor, Newsman Nate. and

Newsman Nate met his demise as planned. Wilma’s only complaint was that the execution was too quick. More suffering was in order, she reasoned. Still, she was pleased to see Newsman Nate running down the street like the proverbial chicken with its bloody head chopped off.

Satisfying too was watching the evening news reports, reports talking about smoke rolling from Nate’s eight orifices.

Wilma Riser would have been repulsed at such a sight but not Gertie. Watching Newsman Nate smolder was quite calming to the dark hearted Wilma. It reminded her of a Florida inmate who suffered a similar fate because of an electrocution gone wrong. Oh well, she mused. He had it coming.

Together, she and Zeus celebrated by sharing a pint of vanilla ice cream from the same bowl and with the same spoon. She sang to Zeus as he licked ice cream from her face.

She told herself: I only do in those who deserve being done in.

Like the mythical bird, Phoenix, Wilma Riser believed she obtained new life by arising from the ashes of her predecessor.

The Mythical Phoenix

Depiction by Friedrich Justin Bertuch, 1806 Wikipedia

_______________

Next on her list were those Wilma Riser once erroneously thought were her friends in the United States Congress, but now she only thinks of them as dyed-in-wool lowlifes stinking up the swamp.

The Swamp

The Washington swamp is another name for our politician’s “land of opportunity.” Hundreds of corrupt to the core national politicians gained wealth from dealing in unethical and illegal doings. Many served prison time. Many were fined substantial amounts. Likely hundreds of others were guilty of nefarious activities as well but how many we do not know. We only learn of those who have been caught.

Every politician running for the presidency promises to “drain the swamp” but none do so. Once in office, none have, although a few might have genuinely meant well. Why would they want a swamp drain when they, themselves, in short order, became part of the swamp?

Wilma Riser was hellbent on cleaning the hellhole with vengeance once she became the high occupant of the Oval Office, an event that never developed. She was rebuffed at every turn. When bringing the matter up for discussion, she heard the same old refrain time after time: Your idea is good, but we have important work to get done. Trying to drain the swamp, she was told by long-time senator, Tommy Tracker, is akin to urinating up a rope.

Senator Wilma Riser learned a few months later the long-term senator who put her in her place was neck-deep in the swamp himself. Tracker took the taxpayers for all he could while in office and wanted more after leaving office; the lowlife went on to work six years as a lobbyist for a maker of agriculture products. Worse in Wilma’s mind was the fact he funneled nearly two billion dollars, all legal but unethically self-serving to say the least, to the same company during twelve of his forty years in the United States Senate.

Wilma Riser, a quick study, learned the “honorable” senator was not alone. He was merely one of many. In time each detested the other, partly because she gathered enough information to turn voters against him. Not knowing the best approach for turning the tables on the man, she decided to wait for the best time to put him in his place as he put her in her place a few years earlier. She could have leaked her knowledge to the media, but such behavior was beneath her.

Tracker’s suicide solved her dilemma.

Wilma became determined to not only drain the swamp but to take down all its occupants as well. Not, of course, from a chair in the Oval Office but from the couch in her home. Indeed, she once again mused: what goes around comes around.

Wilma had two dilemmas though.

One, her target was not just one person. Destroying the swamp meant striking multiple people simultaneously. Always looking for reasons – excuses actually – to get out of Dodge, members of Congress would be scattered around the country. For this dilemma, she quickly came up with a solution: Off as many members as possible when both chambers are in session with all 535 members on deck.

The second dilemma was a bit more complicated for even Wilma’s fertile mind. How, she wondered, would she breach Capitol security? Realizing one drone was woefully inadequate, she opined that the time required for finding the best way would delay her crowning achievement of draining the swamp.

Always a pragmatist, Wilma set out to find an acceptable launch site and an effective delivery system for a blast of “Hiroshima proportions.” Of course, she knew she needed nothing near as explosive and would not even try to develop such a weapon but her deep-seated interest in military science – the same interest that led her to West Point – gave rise to her frequently using military-related jargon.

While in a reminiscent mood during her dilemma, she came up with the name for her not one delivery vehicle but six – all drones: Little Boys. Little Boys would, she told herself, meet her expectations as did Little Boy when meeting expectations of its developers back in 1946.

But, alas, as much as just the thought of annihilating the swamp with a nuclear device brought joy to Wilma’s heart, the thought also brought disappointment. Wilma knew she could not pull it off. Too risky, she reluctantly admitted. Her mini-Manhattan Project would require too many associates, many of whom would, in her mind, leak to the media and beyond.

Instead of using a drone, she arranged from behind the scenes – so far behind the scenes that no earthman could connect her to the dastardly tour de force – to implode the entire structure. She paid one million dollars to each of ten maintenance men employed at the site to strategically place enough explosive material for bringing the building down.

Wilma picked a day with all members of Congress inside the Capitol building. At eleven o’clock in the morning on an otherwise uneventful day, all hell broke loose.

The entire structure fell in seconds. Fire, noise, and screams were seen and heard miles around. There were no screams, however, from what was once the center of the United States government. The five-story building with more than sixteen acres of floor space was turned into a large pile of smoldering rubbish in seconds. First responders arrived with sirens blaring in less than two minutes. The media, including its helicopters, arrived seconds later.

Law enforcement treated the attack with the same urgency given to ending World War II. As crews disposed of the debris, the FBI commenced a five-year-long investigation seemingly, to the public, without one iota of success. They only determined with certainty an implosion caused by a mixture of various chemicals brought the U.S. Capitol down. No suspects were located, and no motive came to anyone’s mind. But the public only knew what the “acting government” reported.

Nobody could come up with a description of anyone engaging in suspicious behavior during the days leading up to the destruction. After five years, the investigation continued but public awareness of the catastrophe faded as the media focused on the progress of rebuilding.

When the deaths were finally tallied a week later, it was learned all 535 members of Congress lost their lives as did most visitors and most workers. Wilma was very pleased that her friend, Donna Jeanne Marion, survived.

With too little time available for holding elections, governors of each state appointed replacement legislators within two weeks. Within four weeks the new congress was somewhat operational with its members working remotely. The new Capitol building was fully operational two years after the catastrophe.

Only one person understood what happened: Wilma, the mastermind. She planned, executed, and witnessed the detonation from the comfort of her living room. Instead of coming forward with a confession, she and Zeus celebrated once again with vanilla ice cream.

In Wilma’s mind, it was a cause for celebration because she got all the targets in one fell swoop. She drained the swamp!

Next: the media.

The Media

Wilma embarked on a media attack with even more enthusiasm than with the Capitol attack. She especially abhorred the liberal news outlets for claiming they brought down Wilma Riser.

Immediately upon Zeus’ last lick of ice cream, Wilma came up with a plan – only plan A. With a new head of steam building up her confidence, she reasoned there would be no need for a plan B.

She would plan and execute complete destruction of buildings housing the operations of her three most hated print and broadcast archenemies. Each were, in her mind, hellbent on destroying her plans for the United States even though none knew early on she expected to become its president.

Wilma’s modus operandi was identical to that of tearing the heart out of the government’s operations. She arranged for a small number of maintenance workers – fully warned and well-paid of course – at each of the three institutions to plant the explosive devices. On the selected day of doom, she would trigger the explosions simultaneously and watch the horrific scenes unfold while watching television in the comfort of her living room with Zeus.

Everything went as planned. No surprises for Wilma, only surprises for the rest of the world at 8:00 o’clock on that Sunday morning, as was the time of the infamous Pearl Harbor attack. Listening to the wailing sirens announcing the arrival of first responders and helicopter rotor blades beating, Wilma and Zeus were, of course, ecstatically devouring their shared bowl of vanilla ice cream.

Smultaneous investigations went on with no useful results. Other than learning the obvious cause of the explosions, investigators were reportedly stymied as were those of the Capitol investigation. Not a single suspect or a person of interest was identified and shared for public consumption regarding either the Capitol or media attacks that resulted in an estimated total of 10,000 lives lost.

Law enforcement authorities carried out the investigation close to the vest. They knew more than they cared to share with the public. Their investigations were ongoing although the public believed the authorities gave up and ended the investigations.

Our president, Joel Brandin, established a committee to “pursue the investigations diligently until the culprit or culprits were found and punished.” The work of the committee was a farce as are most such investigations. The committee wrapped up its work and issued a hollow 4,250-page report. In the end, there were many questions left unanswered. In a nutshell, the report stated all the acts were “probably” carried out by foreign terrorists, but it was unable to identify the terrorists or their sponsors, if any.

Wilma, because of her knowledge of our government’s deceptive ways, expected such a report. She knew the committee was authorized for one reason only: as a way for our politicians to look good in the eyes of the voters. Still, the report pleased her for two reasons. One, she believed she would never be a suspect and, two, being in the same league as a foreign terrorist was a gratifying ego booster, not that she needed her ego boosted.

Wilma’s Manifesto

Because Wilma, the Mensan, was extremely confident that she was safe from detection, she had pressed on in ways she had not even envisioned when she departed the public scene.

She believed she now could do what she wanted all along: shake up Washington in a way nobody could believe. She did, of course, shake up Washington, and the whole world, with her Capitol attack. But she wanted more.

Still, Wilma was a perplexed woman. She could not decide which way to go. Should she keep on terrorizing or give it up? By now, she had lost most, but not all, of her anger.

Now just shy of her sixtieth birthday, she still wanted to be President of the United States of America but knew she was a political has-been. Too, she knew that continuing the terror would not help the people of the country, something she wanted to do all along.

So, she procrastinated. She would complete one more project and then present herself to the public as Wilma Riser while concealing her destructive secrets.

She would explain she left the public eye to regroup without distractions, that she has a valid plan for restoring the country as the founders envisioned, and that she is the only person who can successfully achieve positive and meaningful results.

But for now, as Gertie, she would continue her “destroy America” ways to put “just a little” more fear in the people. She genuinely believed the people were self-centered and apathetic to the point of complacency about the welfare of the country. She would, by creating more disasters, unify the country as did World War II.

She did not have any concerns about getting caught. After all, nobody knows about her Gertie life other than those living around Clyde. They, she reasoned, did not know enough about her to foil her plans. She knew absolutely no person alive, other than Wilmer, would associate frumpy Gertie with well-bred Wilma Riser.

Too, she remembered how, at the end of her senatorial days, people said she had a dark heart. But she did not consider that fact to be a risk because that term is used to describe many people. Therefore, it is unlikely anyone in Clyde would think of Wilma Riser as an earlier version of Gertie.

So, feeling safe, she pressed onward.

Impressed with Ted Kaczynski’s manifesto Industrial Society and Its Future because of Kaczynski’s dedication to his cause, Wilma proceeded with her own manifesto that she named: Progressing from a Country of by and for the People to Communism. Not agreeing with much, if anything Kaczynski wrote, his manifesto, nevertheless, inspired her to write one of her own.

Her short 10-page manifesto can best be summarized in one sentence: The United States of America needs a dictator who thinks like me.

Wilma’s manifesto makes these points:

· Due to costly government social programs, the country is growing a large number of lazy freeloaders,

· Voters are apathetic about the country’s welfare and will continue to be until a national tragedy of WWII proportions strikes,

· Voters return incompetent dullards to Washington election after election,

· Elected officials have only their interests in mind,

· Washington is the “land of opportunity” only for politicians, and,

· Only I and I alone can return the United States of America to a country respected by those countries that now mock our every act.

Early the next morning, Wilma and Zeus pointed Douglas to a city 800 miles from Clyde. There, at a public library, she communicated her unsigned manifesto in the form of an email to the publishers of the fifteen newspapers with the largest circulation. Her identity was safe, she told herself with a back pat. Law enforcement had no way to connect an untraceable email to her living 800 miles away from the library.

The publishers received her manifesto along with this unsigned letter:

Sincere Greetings:

I am the person who proudly blew up the Capitol and three media outlets.

This letter is a warning to every American. These are only three of many demands that I will submit as time marches on.

DEMAND ONE: Remove the phrase In God We Trust from all newly printed and newly minted United States currency and coins.

DEMAND TWO: Remove the phrase In God We Trust from the inside and the outside of all United States-owned buildings.

DEMAND THREE: Remove the phrase In God We Trust from all structures located on United States property.

You may wonder why you have received such a letter of demands. It is because the nation’s people go about their daily activities devoid of a belief in God. Just look around and you will surely agree.

When I am troubled, as a Christian woman I ask myself what would Jesus do while these people ask what would John Gotti do?

Further the phrase “In God We Trust” insults atheists and skeptics. It is way past time people like me who have a strong belief in God stop our pompous ways.

To show I mean business and that I have ability to follow through, I will destroy a federal building somewhere and sometime within 24 hours. Then if I do not see televised proof in three months from the date of this letter that these three demands have been met in full, I will do my thing.

My grammar may not meet the standards of the King’s English, but I rest assured believing you get my meaning.

I do not jest. This is a serious no-nonsense letter.

Very Sincerely,

Wilma fulfilled her “mean business” promise early the next day. She arranged for previously set explosives to go off two hours after midnight at a remote Wyoming post office when the property was clear of human activity.

She kissed Zeus, telling him she hoped none of his kind were hurt. It was too early in the day to share ice cream.

She met Wilmer a few days later at their favorite meeting place, the same Orlando five-star hotel where they first conceived the plan for tearing the fabric from the United States of America.

At the conclusion of their meeting both acknowledged they had an airtight plan.

Wilma’s Follow Through

During the three-month grace period, Wilma arranged to destroy eight buildings used by the United States Postal Service.

After three-months Wilma had absolutely no proof the phrase “In God We Trust” was removed from federal buildings or federal properties, as well as having no evidence the government stopped printing currency or stopped stamping coins with the phrase.

Wilma began doing her thing precisely as she stated in her emails to the newspaper publishers. She began executing her and Wilmer’s airtight plan.

Bright and early on the first day after the three-month period, branches of United States Post Offices began coming down. She concentrated on branches because setting explosives at branches could be done easier and without the suspicion that would be the case if she chose buildings with multiple business offices.

By the end of the day, one branch each at Nashville, Wilmington, Phoenix, Denver, Miami, South Bend, Seattle, and Baton Rouge were reduced to ashes.

Chaos ran rampant at each location. The sirens were ear piercing, and first responders did their work very efficiently even though bystanders were quite difficult to control. Media crews were pestering investigators with questions as soon as the investigators exited their vehicles. An estimated 250 employees, customers, and people otherwise going about their business were killed. The strong stench of burning bodies was especially hard to take.

Law enforcement was on high alert throughout the country.

Wilma was certain that authorities now believe she means business.

U.S. President Joel Brandin kept the people informed. He made it clear the terrorist or terrorists were dead serious. The day after the “going postal” incidents occurred, President addressed the nation via television.

Before starting his address, United States President Joel Brandin stood at the podium doing what politicians do best smiling for photographers.

Then, he speaks, “As we recover from the heinous destruction of the Capitol and three media outlets, we now know the terrorists have more destruction planned.”

The President glances at his prepared speech, removes his glasses, and continues, “Today, I ordered our military leaders to place all military members based in the United States on alert ready to move at a moment's notice. Private, commercial, and military aircraft pilots have been instructed to report suspicious aircraft.”

President Brandin pauses, looks toward the sky, and scans the crowd. Then, he finishes, “Thank you and God bless America.”

Only a lone voice could be heard above the robust applause, “Let's go, Brandin.”

Jeannie and the Man

Donna Jeanne Marion

Law enforcement personnel had been investigating the Capitol, the media, and the Wyoming post office incidents. They were stymied with almost no progress. Now, the recent eight post office attacks were added to the list. Things did not look good.

The first big break came the day following the eight post office attacks. A woman, Donna Jeanne (Jeannie) Marion, dropped in unannounced at her local sheriff’s office suggesting she knew the name of the responsible party. She said with absolute certainty, “It’s Wilma Riser.” Marion explained that she knew Riser from her days working as a staff member of another United States senator.

Marion gave the deputy, Max Maxwell, a photograph of Wilma Riser and Marion, a photograph taken when they attended a New Year’s Eve party. Marion kept the photograph because she loves dogs and Riser was, in the photograph, holding Zeus, the dog she just got. Marion kept the photograph in a Ziplock bag to keep it like new.

According to Marion, she heard Wilma Riser say the phrase that was identical to the wording used in her letter of demands sent to the newspapers: When I am troubled, as a Christian woman I ask myself what would Jesus do while these people ask what would John Gotti do?

“Who have you ever heard say anything close to that,” she asked the deputy.

Maxwell opined he had never heard anything so absurd, thanked her for the lead and she left his office. He then reported the visit to his superior, who in turn escalated the tip to the FBI.

At the FBI, Agent Orton Willis was assigned the task of checking the accuracy of the tip. In doing so he learned all records available showed Wilma Riser passed away, was cremated and her ashes were spread over the Gulf of Mexico.

Willis documented his findings. The lead was pretty much considered to be dead but came to life when, desperate for information, the FBI published what came to be known as “the photograph.” Maxwell passed Ms. Marion’s photograph on to the FBI. The FBI then published the photograph in newspapers across the country, newspapers with large circulations.

The Man

A man in Clyde reported to the FBI that the dog in the photograph looked identical to a dog owned by a woman with whom the man had several disputes. He said the “fat little mutt” is the only dog he had ever seen that has murder in its eyes. The FBI agent, again Orton Willis, documented the report but believed the caller was more interested in harassing Gertie than supplying good-faith information. Still, because law enforcement around the country followed all tips, the FBI pursued Gertie.

FBI personnel examined the photograph for fingerprints and found prints of two people presumably belonging to Wilmer Riser and Donna Jeanne Marion. With this new information, two FBI agents were dispatched to find and get fingerprints of Gertie for comparison. The agents, finding Gertie in a Clyde coffee shop and in a heated discussion with another woman, identified themselves and, away from the companion, stated the purpose of their visit. Realizing she was in the presence of the potential enemy, Gertie fully cooperated and allowed the agents, one a fingerprint expert, to go ahead. The expert saw immediately the prints did not match.

Wilma was relieved and happy her $100,000 fingerprint alteration was successful. She knew the agents did not have conclusive proof that the prints on the photographs were Wilma Riser’s prints because she had never been fingerprinted. Still, she knew they belonged to her. Slider knew then she was off the hook. At least for now.

Remorse and Regret

Even though Wilma believed she was off the hook, she feared the FBI would ferret out the truth.

She quickly became an emotional wreck. Her interest in chemistry was all but gone. Sleep evaded her. Her appetite was gone. But, because the brilliant Mensan knew she had to keep her strength up, she forced herself to maintain her ongoing healthy vegan diet. An outsider would call her pitiful, miserable, and ready for the padded cell.

Too, she was quite bothered that Zeus sensed something was not right. Zeus’ look of concern became the impetus for her next decision. Taking Zeus with her, Wilma drove Patton into Clyde, placed Zeus in a kennel, purchased an untraceable burner phone, and then placed a call to Wilmer.

Wilmer cautioned Wilma with very certain terminology: I hope you know what you are asking. He went on to say: Once the deed is done, you will not only face prison time – you will be in prison for life and your life might be extremely short, short as in going to sleep in the chamber, if you know what I mean.

She knew. She also knew she did not tell Wilmer everything.

At discussion end, Wilmer promised to have the necessary equipment installed.

They agreed the happening would happen in three days.

The Bombshell

Wilma Riser’s upcoming announcement could be called another shot heard around the world.

At noon Eastern Standard Time on December 8, 2000, Wilma Riser, speaking from her Clyde home, stood in front of a television camera for everyone to see. And what everyone saw was a stunner because they all thought she was dead with her remains somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. She looked exactly as she looked during her days in the national spotlight as a United States senator.

There was no advanced indication she would be making a statement to the public. Not even one television executive in the entire country knew it was coming. Everyone was blindsided. Viewers tuning in for the twelve o’clock news did get breaking news, for sure. Wilma’s presence, produced and hacked into television by brother Wilmer the video editor, was the real news at noon.

It did not take long for everybody near a television to gather for her big announcement – an announcement seemingly from the grave in more ways than one.

Wilma’s announcement was brief – very brief: I have a statement in my handwriting, signed by me, witnessed, and notarized that I will leave on this desk. The statement explains in detail my activities since I left the public scene.

Viewers saw Wilma reach for an object on a nearby table. They didn’t see Wilma fire the shot. Then, all television screens in the country went dark.

The Funeral

Her funeral, in the unincorporated town of Clyde near Wilma’s residence, was somewhat different than most. Not so much the funeral service itself but the numerous whispered conversations outside the church building on that cool, bright, and sunny autumn afternoon with refreshing brown leaves hanging from the trees.

With dozens of the curious and the media waiting outside the church, the minister spoke of the woman known as Gertie as was expected. He could not praise her life because he, as with everyone else in the small community, only knew of her wicked ways. Still, he did the best he could.

To show respect, whether genuine or feigned, the polite people of Clyde rarely speak ill of the dead, instead singing praises without end. That is just the way it is. But here, outside the church building, was a different story. There were numerous hostile anecdotes that one would not expect to hear from the mouths of Clyde residents. Nobody outside the neglected church building spoke well of Wilma.

Probably the least offensive word describing Wilma was spoken by a man who thought she wronged him along the way, “I could have been making money working on the farm today, but I came to this damn thing to see for myself that the bitch is dead. Now, with the casket closed, I still don’t know.”

Another man pretty much dittoed the comment by saying, “She must have blown her head into the next county for there to be a closed casket. Or do you reckon she pulled another Gulf stunt?”

Whatever, the newspapers around the country reported Wilma, was cremated two days later with her remains scattered at her property.

Rest in Peace

Wilma Riser

AKA

Gertie

December 1940 – December 2000

She Made a Difference

Part Three

Wilmer on the Run

Enter the United States Department of Justice

Twenty-five members of the Department of Justice (DOJ) plus ten military generals and admirals enter a large conference room to participate in a meeting led by Joy Sitka.

“Ladies and gentlemen, good afternoon. My name is Joy Sitka. We have been designated the Awareness Team. This is our first meeting of hopefully only a few. We will have weekly meetings in this room, known as the Awareness Room, until our mission is complete.”

Sitka introduces each member before getting on with the business at hand.

Sitka explains, “Our role is to process information obtained from the various law enforcement and intelligence entities investigating the destruction of the country.”

The distinguished group begins taking notes.

“With our team of the country's best investigative minds, we are well-equipped to do so. I ask you now to raise your right hand if you commit to participating in the best interest of the United States of America.”

All in attendance affirm.

Sitka proceeds, “Thank you. Wilma Riser and her brother, Wilmer, conspired to destroy all federal buildings located on United States soil. Our intelligence-gathering people have learned the siblings, and they alone, were the masterminds.”

A well-groomed man with a cart of pastries and drinks enters, “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I'll be quick.”

Sitka adds, “They hired minions to do the heavy lifting. We are not concerned with the minions for now. That will come later. With Wilma gone, our focus is on Wilmer.”

Sitka pauses. She assesses the participant's expressions.

“Once Wilmer is removed, his millions will be unavailable for funding further destruction. Authorities can then deal with the minions.”

Sitka solicits questions and comments.

Chase Plant, 45 years old, is a well-educated no-nonsense 15-year public servant.

He is Sitka's right-hand man. He motions for and receives permission to speak, “The Wall Street Journal reports our people are more demoralized than during the Great Depression. Suicides and home invasions are spiking. Shoplifting gangs are forcing business closings.”

Plant pauses for a drink of water. Others eat pastry.

Plant tells the group, “The wealthy are taking their money and leaving the country. This goes on throughout the entire country in large cities and rural areas.”

And Sitka tells the group, “The country is caving fast. Rumors abound. Today, I want to bring you up to date with the latest information about the man we are ordered to apprehend.”

Sitka summarizes new information she has regarding Wilmer, “Mr. Riser is dangerous. He lost a few billion dollars - all of his money - during his divorce. His ex-wife took it all in exchange for not ratting on him. He still makes a killing from killing. Word is as much as a quarter million dollars per hit. Sometimes two or three hits per week. Word is he has regained the entire amount plus some. Nobody knows his worth, but rest assured it is from illegal sources. He operates a modern twin engine jet plane, a helicopter, and an unknown number of drones. He's physically snake-quick and just as slick. There is reliable evidence suggesting he has been a malcontent since childhood. Anything else to add? Anyone?”

“Yes,” Plant says, “He is a human junkyard dog. Bitter as hell about everything. He is the most irreligious man you will ever have the misfortune of meeting. But he can be quite charming.”

Plant solicits comments. General Henry Marcham responds, “He served six years in the Army when his sister was in college. A top-notch sniper. Resorting to terroristic tactics is the way he does business. Because of his rebellious attitude, he didn't advance beyond the rank of corporal. He is a survivalist.”

Plant has more, “Word is he is organizing a group for overthrowing our government because he doesn't like the direction the country is going. We have reason to believe he presents himself as Chester Nojester, a radio host.”

Sitka solicits, “Any comments?”

Admiral Johnny Swabie raises his hand. Sitka recognizes him.

“I'm convinced a civil war is brewing,” he says. “Not a war between the states but from the hostility of civilian insurgents. There will be no leaders, only unhinged malcontents in every nook and cranny.”

The generals and admirals who have seen and heard everything imaginable express unimaginable shock both verbally and visually.

Others in the room create loud indistinguishable discussions.

Whispering, Admiral Swabie unexpectedly comes through loud and clear with what he meant to be a private comment to the person seated on his right. “Impale him with an anchor. Shove him overboard.”

Sitka bangs the podium with a ruler.

“Please. Let's have order. You'll have plenty of time for yelling. Just not in this room.”

Order is restored. The people compose themselves by taking a drink of water, shaking their heads, wiping their foreheads, and performing breathing exercises.

Sitka concludes, “Thank you. I understand your anger. That's all for today. Be careful and exercise extreme care. If Riser learns our identities, we could become his targets. Promise your family every day you will be home for dinner.”

A few days later, Wilmer, as Chester NoJester, announces his presence to the White House via telephone. Ruby Rubious answers: “Office of the President. How may I direct your call?”

Wilmer speaks word salad with a ridiculously laughable disguised voice throughout the conversation, “To anyone with President Brandin's ear. Preferably the big Hoss himself.”

“Your name, please.”

“Chester, Chester NoJester.”

“Certainly, Mr. NoJester. One moment,” says Ruby as she puts Wilmer on hold and transfers call to Sara, the president's secretary.

Sara answers, “Hi. Ruby.”

“Got some word salad-speaking weirdo wanting President Brandin. Says his name is Chester NoJester.”

Sara accepts the call, “Mr. NoJester, the president isn't available, but I will be happy to take your information.”

“Tell him I called with enough gigabytes of information about the country's destruction to fill a shoebox.”

“I'm sorry,” Sara replies, “Can you repeat that please?”

“No. I was only given a fixed number of words at birth. I don't want to use my remaining words talking to you.”

Sara is dumbfounded, “I beg your pardon.”

“You tell him I'll call tomorrow at this time. If he refuses to talk to me, I'll continue the mayhem.”

Wilmer disconnects.

Sara holds her forefinger and thumb at her head. Pulls an imaginary trigger.

She races pell-mell to Brandin in the Oval Office and gives him the message.

Sara tells President Brandin, “Mr. President. This caller sounds like a screwball but....”

She explains her conversation with Wilmer.

Sara adds, “Perhaps you should take his call tomorrow.”

Brandin puts his vintage 1942 Captain Marvel comic book aside.

“Holy Moley. I will. Thank you, Sara.”

As Sara leaves, Brandin calls on the six immortal elders using an acronym, “SHAZAM.”

As he promised, Wilmer, alias Chester NoJester, phones President Brandin the next day.

Brandin puts Captain Marvel aside and parks his feet on his desk.

Brandin speaks, “Yes, Mr. NoJester. I am honored to talk to you.”

“I doubt that you are honored. Here is what you will do if you want to continue living in government housing.”

“Sure. Go on.”

The wall clock shows "13:45."

“First, return the government to one of, by and for the people living in the land of the free and home of the brave.”

During the next half hour, Wilmer makes demands as he reads from his list of talking points.

Brandin takes notes. He rarely speaks.

Wilmer concludes, “There you have it, Hoss.”

“That's an impossible order, friend.”

Wilmer then threatens Brandin, “Time is short. You have 60 days to get the job done. Otherwise, mayhem ad nauseam. You will be more confused than Hogan's two peckered goat.”

Call ends. Wall clock shows "14:15.”

Brandin returns to Captain Marvel.

While Wilmer enjoys him time harassing the president, Joy Sitka presses forward with the Awareness Team, “Since our first meeting, everything is worse than what President Jimmy Carter described in his 1979 malaise speech. Mr. Plant will present his latest findings.”

The Awareness Team views PowerPoint images showing scenes across the country presented by Chase Plant, “These images resemble war zones. They show damage caused by the Riser siblings. The action was directed by Wilmer but both siblings executed the planning.”

Plant pauses for reactions before projecting the first image.

Each participant views the images using separate laptop computers.

Plant describes the first image, “This image shows dirt piled four feet high blocking the entrance of an interstate highway. Forty-five percent of our paved roads are similarly blocked. The number grows daily. Commerce has slowed from a crawl to a near-stop.”

Plant projects images of empty grocery shelves, abandoned restaurants, abandoned gasoline stations, overturned ambulances, and people jumping to their deaths from high-rises.

One image shows Air Force One taking President Brandin to his new residence at parts unknown.

Plant goes on, “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an additional two-hundred similar gruesome images showing every abhorrent condition imaginable.”

Plant presents an additional fifty images.

Joy Sitka tells the group, “My personal and unofficial assessment is we are doomed. Nothing, including superpowers, lives forever. Apathy has ruled the country since the end of World War Two.”

Sitka describes a never-to-be-expected fact of American life, “Only a handful of citizens still vote. Incumbents are resigning. New candidates are nonexistent. Our complacency got us here. The people's let George do it attitude has come home to roost.”.”

Faces in the room clearly show torment.

Then, Plant adds to the torment, “Wilmer Riser has done his homework well. He isn't acting alone. His volunteer army of an estimated two million like-minded people has leveled the landscape in every state capital.

“His army continues at breakneck speed with no sign of slowing. Even our military is severely weakened. City and county law enforcement personnel across the country --"

General Marcham interrupts and defends his troops with a booming voice, “ - - Hold on. Our troops are a microcosm of the entire population. They aren't the problem. The state of the nation is the problem. Our leaders thumb their fannies at us. They expect us subjects, and I do mean subjects, to kiss their asses at every turn. Then, they wonder why we don't thank them for bending over.”

Plant acknowledges the general is correct, “Well said, general. Everybody in this room understands, as do many of our citizens that our military is vastly outnumbered. The people are fed up. That's the reason Mr. Riser has acquired so many volunteers. If we don't bring results soon Riser's army will win.

“But they may not win. Our intelligence tells us we can now track him on the ground, on water, and in the air.”

Plant scans the room. Sees puzzled faces. He solicits questions and comments. There are none.

Plant and Sitka close the meeting with separate statements:

Plant says, “How? I don't know. The technology is highly classified and those using it have top-secret security clearances. They won't talk.”

Sitka says, “Apprehending Riser can take weeks or months. We need more direct evidence, not circumstantial. We need to keep working.”

It is true that the Awareness Team needed to keep working but not as the members expected as the meeting closed because the next morning newspapers across the fruited plain brought welcomed news:

Wilmer Riser Apprehended in Arizona

Following a Short but Fierce Firefight

The capture occurred about 200 miles northeast of Phoenix and 40 miles west of New Mexico at a spot where several bodies were found earlier. The speculation was that the area is the burial ground for Wilmer’s victims. He had two victims in the chopper when the happening happened on Apache County Arizona Road N8406:

· Wilmer's helicopter falls from the sky.

· Wilmer scrambles carrying two high-powered rifles, rpg equipment and clips of ammo strapped to his body.

· Robust firefight ensues.

· Marshals service marksman disables Wilmer's rpg equipment with a single shot.

· Wilmer fires his last round, crawls to marshal, and surrenders.

According to a classified video made by the sheriff’s department – a video that mysteriously found its way to a Phoenix television station two years later – the incident unfolded as awkwardly discussed by Deputy Sheriff Dewey Glasshouse and his newly-appointed supervisor, Captain Bert Wilent.

Glasshouse starts to explain, “It happened at Burning Tree on Choke Road last --”

Wilent interrupts, “-- Hey. Slow down. Give me a chance. I just got here last week; you know.”

Glasshouse initiates an apology, “Oh, sure, Bert. I –"

Wilent: “-- Hold on. I'm Captain Wilent until we get to know one another. Then, you can call me Bert if I like you.”

Glasshouse and Wilent share stares for a few seconds. Glasshouse speaks with a trace of anger, “Don't talk down to me you son of a bitch. I've been here thirty years. Done it all. Retire next month. You need me more than I need you. Okey dokey?”

Glasshouse relights his cigar, takes the do not smoke placard from Wilent's desk, tosses it in the circular file as a basketball style hook shot.

Glasshouse boasts, “Ah. Three points.”

Glasshouse smiles showing victory.

Wilent smiles showing appreciation.

Wilent says, “Okey dokey. I was just testing your mettle. You know what? I like you. Call me Bert. Okey dokey?”

Glasshouse passed Wilent's test.

Wilent asks, “Where is Burning Tree? Where is Choke Road?”

Glasshouse says, “It's Apache County Road N8604. Story is a man died violently in his car next to a tree that just got hit by lightning. A woman was driving her husband home from the dentist.”

Wilent leans back in his chair. Closes his eyes. Sighs and says, “Sorry I asked but go on.”

Glasshouse proceeds, “He had a new lower denture in his mouth and a forty-four-ounce drink in his hand. He choked.”

Glasshouse puffs on the cigar. Blows smoke Wilent's direction. Wilent waves a paper at the smoke.

Wilent's irritation shows. He becomes fidgety and asks, “Are you finished?”

“Almost. The bad news is he lost his life and the drink. Good news is he saved the denture.”

Wilent says with sarcasm, “Thank you for the education.” He then asks, “ OK. What happened?”

“Well, Riser comes swooping down. Got a bit too low and just as he opened the door sporting a rifle, two bodies fell from the bird.

“Thing is nobody knows how Riser lost control at Burning Tree. A United States marshal sat him down, ask him questions, but Riser only wisecracked through the corner of his mouth.”

Vigorous cigar chomping by Glasshouse.

Glasshouse says, “I figure they were not as dead as Riser thought. They did two things toward the end. Came to life and fought for a longer life.”

Wilent inquires further, “Did you say a United States marshal?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did we get involved with the Marshals service?”

Glasshouse explains, “Two of our deputies responded to an unrelated complaint. They saw all the lights flashing and about a dozen marshals. Naturally they stopped and asked questions.

“Riser was flying a helicopter along Interstate Forty. Riser turned south like he knew exactly what he was doing. You know. Like he has been there many times.

“The shoot-out started in the air. It ended after Riser crashed his copter into a marshals' car followed by a twenty-second shoot-out. Riser ran out of ammo.”

Wilent asks, “Any deaths?”

Glasshouse answers, “None. Two marshals survived with injuries. They were admitted to the hospital. Nothing life threatening.”

“Was Riser injured?”

“No. Get this. One of the marshals saw Riser put on Kevlar KM2 armor while in the air. Must have learned about it during his army days.”

Wilent asks, “Anything else?”

Glasshouse seems to have a new head of steam and replies. “A lot. Other things have happened over the years at Burning Tree. Eight bodies were dumped there just last year.”

“Did the Marshals Service investigate?”

“Don't know. Word came for us to keep out of it. My guess now is that there is a Riser connection. If I'm right, everybody will be investigating.”

“Suppose so. Who are the expired?”

Glasshouse says, “Don't know their names. All the dead are believed to be victims of Riser's contract killings. All are from back East. Go figure.”

“I will. Keep me informed.”

As Glasshouse exits, Wilent calls him back.

“Glasshouse!”

“Yes?”

“Okey dokey?”

Glasshouse doesn’t resist an opportunity to needle Wilent, “Okey dokey, Bart.”

Wilent peers over his glasses and says in a scolding way, “It's Bert.”

“Sorry, Bert. Okey dokey.”

Glasshouse turns to the door and exits wearing an almost invisible gotcha smile.

Wilmer and His Attorney

Wilmer’s attorney, Harold Drew visits Wilmer at an undisclosed Federal Prison. They discuss Wilmer’s upcoming trial while alone in the visitors room.

Drew begins to prepare Wilmer for unwelcome news, “It's a lost cause. I'll not continue to serve as your attorney.”

“You'll get your money. Don't sweat it.”

Drew says, “This isn't about money.”

Wilmer responds with his usual stick-it-in-your-ear style, “What's it about? My survival? My dignity?”

“No. Mine. When you and I appear in court together, I might as well migrate to South America and live with Hitler and Elvis.”

“You are funny today.”

“Anyway. Down to brass tacks. Your fate rests with the United States Supreme Court.”

Wilmer becomes agitated, saying, “Aw, get outa here. The Supreme Court doesn't have original jurisdiction in criminal cases.”

Drew says, “Does now. You and Shipp.”

“Who?”

“Look it up.”

Wilmer tells Drew what many Americans believe, “Those dullards are a joke. If the Court were meaningful, all opinions would be unanimous. They all studied the same Constitution, you know. They vote according to the wishes of their political party.”

While Wilmer rants, Drew meticulously puts documents in his briefcase and says, “I'm outa here.”

“What do mean, outa here?”

“I'm done with you. Resigning. Get yourself another attorney. Understand?”

“No. Years ago you said you would represent me through thick and thin. Remember? Are you representing me?”

“Yes and no.”

Becoming belligerent, Wilmer screams, “Yes and no? Take your ass off your shoulders and put your head back on. Level with me.”

“Yes, I remember and no I'm not representing you. I've changed my mind.”

Wilmer bolts from the chair. Breaks the glass barrier with his right hand and says, “Listen to me, you piece of shit. If you leave me, I'll tell the world that you are D.B. Cooper.”

Drew fires back, “You are as full of shit as a Christmas turkey. Always have been. Always will be.”

The guard escorts Drew out of the visitors' area.

Another guard escorts Wilmer to the dispensary where a doctor inspects and treats Wilmer's broken fingers.

A guard escorts Wilmer back to his cell where Wilmer attempts to joke with his guard escort. “Did you hear the one about –"

Speaking down to Wilmer, the guard says, “Get in. You're persona non grata with me.”

“It works both ways, Hoss.”

The guard demands to know, “What's with the Hoss bullshit?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all, Sunshine. Or is it Sourpuss?”

The guard rolls his eyes, slams the cell door and leaves while muttering, “Jesus Christ. If I didn't need a job, I would...."

Wilmer doesn’t let it go. To the guard, he says, “Hey, did you hear the one about the woman flying an airplane upside down?”

The guard doesn’t answer.

Wilmer let's go with his unique earsplitting horselaugh and yells toward the guard, “She had a crackup!”

Wilmer continues laughing while repeatedly slapping his knee.

United States Supreme Court

A national cable television reporter makes a major announcement from the steps of the Supreme Court building.

The reporter informs the people of the long awaited, but expected, news, “In a unanimous decision, the Supreme Court today released its opinion that Wilmer Riser is guilty of the many heinous assaults upon the people of the United States dating back to...

The reporter continues reading the lengthy opinion.

“...Mr. Riser will be transported to the United States Penitentiary at Terre Haute, Indiana where he will be executed within sixty days.”

United States Penitentiary - Terre Haute, Indiana

Television sets across the country broke regular programming with this statement by a reporter, “Wilmer Riser was executed minutes ago in this building behind me. Riser refused communication with any religious authority, he had no last word for the press or for the people, and he refused...

The reporter shows a sense of disbelief. Scratches his head. Then continues.

“...a last meal giving the reason because, quote, I'm on a diet, unquote.”

A San Antonio Public Library

A man sits at a computer. Letters above his shirt pocket are WD. It is Wally Downey.

He searches for information about countries without extradition agreements with the United States.

Facing the wall, he places a phone call, “Okay, sweetheart. It's all set. The Hilton Garden Inn at Tanger City Centre in Tangier, Morocco. See you then. He smiles and disconnects.”

Tangier Hilton Garden Inn

Two people, a man, and a woman, sit in the lounge talking while sipping drinks.

They leave the lounge. Their faces become clear as they step in the elevator.

Alone in the elevator, they kiss holding the other's hands, reminiscent of their last day together at West Point.

Wally says, “It's so nice being together again.”

They face each other and kiss while holding hands.

Wilma answers, “Sure is. This is the right time to talk about love too.”

They kiss again.

The door closes.

As of the year 2005, with the nation's landscape much as it was in 1900, the United States continues its long rebuilding process.

The citizens of the United States have put their petty crusades and greed aside. People now live in the spirit of one for all and all for one.

Wilma Riser made a difference.

THE END

***********************************************************

The Spec Screenplay

WILMA

Written by

Larry Croft

Inspired by the short story

GOODBYE USA

ONCE WAS A NICE PLACE

Written by

Larry Croft

larrycroftec@gmail.com

Cotacachi, Imbabura, Ecuador

BLACK SCREEN

SUPER:

"During the latter years of the twentieth century, the United States of America was virtually destroyed by siblings Wilma and Wilmer Riser. This film describes events leading to and culminating with the massive destruction of the Land of Opportunity and the fate of the Riser siblings."

FADE IN

SUPER: "Indianapolis, Indiana 1959"

INT. AERIAL VIEW INDIANAPOLIS - DAY

SERIES OF SHOTS - INDIANAPOLIS' ATTRACTIONS

-- Indianapolis Motor Speedway.

-- Soldiers' and Sailors' monument.

-- Children's Museum of Indianapolis

-- Indiana Statehouse

-- Indiana World War Memorial Plaza

EXT. SIDEWALK AT AN INDIANAPOLIS HIGH SCHOOL - DAY

Senior WILMA RISER and her friends ITSY and BITSY walking home from school.

Pesky BILLY VICTOR, on roller skates, feigns an accidental bump into Wilma then does a backflip.

BILLY

Impressive huh? Oh, hi Wilma.

WILMA

Hi Billy.

ITSY

Hey, Billy. We are here too. How about a hi for us?

BILLY

Oh yeah. Hi girls. Well, gotta go.

Billy rolls onward with repeated backflips as the girls laugh.

BITSY

You know, Wilma, he has a crush on you.

WILMA

Yeah, yeah. He really just wants my dad's money.

All giggle.

BITSY

He wants more than your family's money.

WILMA

What's that supposed to mean?

BITSY

Guess.

ITSY

He tells everyone he is going to marry you someday.

WILMA

Have you heard him?

ITSY

Well...

BITSY

I have. He told me he'll love you 'til he dies. He said he will follow you to the White House.

Wilma's smile suggests she enjoys Bitsy's comment.

BITSY

And, if you reject him he will get revenge. Then he hummed some country music song.

WILMA

Get outa here.

The girls kick rocks down the street before parting company, laughing on the way to their homes.

Wilma looks back at Itsy and Bitsy when she hears them sing the song Billy hummed.

INT. WILMA'S PARENT'S HOME - MOMENTS LATER

Wilma's mother JANICE RISER greets her with a pleasant surprise.

MOM

Hey, sunshine. Got good news in the mail. I opened it. Just as anxious as you.

Mom hands Wilma an envelope.

Wilma reads the first few lines.

WILMA

Oh my gosh. I'm in. I'm going to be a West Point Cadet.

MOM

Shouldn't surprise you. With your four-point grade average and being a member of Mensa International, did you expect rejection?

WILMA

No. But you never know.

Wilma and her mom hug.

Wilma's father, Stephen Riser, comes home.

DAD

How are the girls?

WILMA

Fine. Look at this. West Point accepted me. Proud of me?

Dad raises his eyebrows, lowers his head, and looks straight at Wilma in a teasing way.

DAD

Sure but more proud if it were from Annapolis. Like mine was back in the day.

WILMA

Grump.

All laugh.

WILMA

This is my first step to the White House. There, I'll make a difference. You'll see.

EXT. PARK BENCH - DAY

SUPER: "1960"

A woman views the Hudson River crying, holding a tissue.

Cadet Wally Downey sees her. It is Wilma. Smiling, he walks quickly to her. They talk and leave together holding hands.

EXT. ALONG THE HUDSON RIVER - DAY

WILMA

I'm deeply troubled. Since grade school, all I ever wanted is to be the President of the United States of America.

WALLY

You can still be. You planned well, you are levelheaded, personable, wholesome, and well-adjusted.

WILMA

I don't know now if it will happen. I wanted to first serve my country as a commissioned soldier with meaningful responsibility. Later, I wanted to work in the private sector while serving on the Indianapolis city council. Then I wanted to be elected to the United States Senate.

WALLY

You still can. Of course, there are no guarantees and it will be a long hard road to travel. But, if anyone can become president, you can.

WILMA

I wonder if I can achieve it all. Not measuring up during the Beast has taken a toll. A big disappointment.

WALLY

You can and you will. You not only will but will be a top-notch president. I know you very well. I love you too.

WILMA

Somehow, this doesn't seem like the time to talk about love.

They face each other and kiss while holding hands.

Wally's hat falls from his head. Wilma picks it up. More relaxed, she intentionally places it cockeyed on his head.

They look at each other, smile, kiss again, and keep walking.

INT. WILMA'S PARENT'S HOME - DAY

Phone rings.

MOM

Hello.

WILMA (V.O.)

Hi mom. It's me.

MOM

Why are you calling? Aren't you in class?

WILMA (V.O.)

No. I washed out. I'm at the airport. Be home in an hour. I'll explain then.

Wilma hangs up the phone.

Mom rolls her eyes, turns off the vacuum sweeper, sits on the sofa leaning forward, and places her chin on both hands.

MOM

Whoa.

INT. PARENT'S HOME - EVENING

DINING ROOM

Wilma, her parents, and her older brother of two years, Wilmer Riser, gather at the dinner table.

The normal rhythm of passing dishes around the table is gone. Uptightness abounds.

WILMER

Green beans, Dad?

Dad doesn't respond, and stares at his plate.

WILMER

Dad, this dish is getting heavy.

DAD

Oh, yeah. Sorry Wil. Thank you.

Similar lapses by all doom the meal.

Dad spills iced tea on his dress shirt. Wilma and Mom rush to help Dad.

Wilmer scoffs at food in his usual gung-ho way.

MOM

We are sorry to hear West Point didn't work out for you.

DAD

Yeah, but don't let it get you down. You have everything going for you.

All clumsily pass food dishes around the table.

DAD

Transitioning from high school to an elite military academy is tough for everyone. Annapolis was tough for me.

WILMA

Oh. I know. I don't know why I didn't realize the academy is different than civilian schools.

Embarrassed, Wilma studies the faces of Mom and Dad.

WILMA

I didn't measure up during Beast. I never thought it would --

WILMER

-- What's Beast?

WILMA

Another word for Cadet Basic Training.

The famished Wilmer puts food scoffing on hold, jerking his smiling face toward Wilma.

WILMER

So, they booted your ass --

Mom jumps up abruptly and points her fork toward Wilmer. Holds it to his face.

MOM

-- Wilmer. Watch your mouth. Show respect.

Startled, Wilmer bolts upright in his chair.

WILMER

OK. But those generals are just whiffs of Foul Air from their Rectum Tunnels. You know, FARTS.

MOM

I'm ashamed of you. Talking like this in front of your sister.

Mom sits down.

MOM

She is an all-American girl. World-class. The girl next door. And you?

Mom looks at Wilmer showing contempt.

WILMA

No general had anything to do with me leaving.

WILMER

OK. Whatever. With your black belt know-how, you should have shoved a knee into somebody's undercarriage.

MOM

That's enough.

WILMER

Whatever. Gotta go. Good dinner, Mom. Thanks for the parenting exercise too.

Wilmer folds his napkin. Rises. Leaves the room with an earsplitting horselaugh.

Wilma giggles, Dad chuckles, and Mom sits red-faced.

WILMA

Where is he going?

DAD

Who knows?

MOM

You know he will be out somewhere tearing up jack.

DAD

I know. Hope I don't have to get him out of jail again.

MOM

That year at the reform school didn't make him a bit better person.

DAD

And he still has those recurring dreams about Wilma's life cut short because of her own doings.

WILMA

He believes them too. Even the reform school psychiatrist says Wilmer believes them. And the school chaplain suggests Wilmer might be a genuine prophet.

DAD

Well, I hope he turns his life around while we are alive.

Dad looks at Mom.

DAD

I don't want either of us going to our graves with him on the F.B.I.'s ten most wanted list. It could happen too.

MOM

I worry about him all the time. I often cry myself to sleep. Anyway, I have heard enough.

Abruptly, Mom leaves the table.

DAD

Well, I'm done too.

WILMA

Me too. Sorry that I caused this. Even more sorry my brother has always been a blast of foul air himself.

Dad laughs, Wilma grins, and Mom glares at both.

Wilma and Mom begin cleaning the dining area. Dad goes to the

LIVING ROOM

and plops down in his easy chair with a book. Closes his eyes. Falls asleep.

KITCHEN

MOM

What are your plans now?

WILMA

I'll apply to other schools. I'll recover. Hey, I have something to show you. Excuse me.

Wilma leaves the kitchen and returns with a framed picture.

WILMA

This is Wally. He might be my future.

Mom studies the picture.

MOM

I'm impressed. I hope it works out as you want.

WILMA

We'll see. I'm afraid he'll be sent to Vietnam. He helped me through this mess and all. I feel better knowing him.

MOM

That's good. I'm happy for you.

WILMA

I'm still bothered. I had detailed plans on how I would climb up the ladder to become the United States President. All planned out. Couldn't fail.

MOM

The Army isn't everything, you know.

WILMA

That's not the point. The point is I had a misstep on the first rung of the ladder.

MOM

You haven't failed. And you won't. It's like Dad said. You have a lot going for you.

SUPER: "1972"

INT. THE STOCKYARD RESTAURANT - NIGHT

The Riser family dines at Indianapolis' most upscale restaurant celebrating Wilma's graduation from law school.

As Mom, Dad, Wilmer, and Wilma raise their champagne glasses, Dad offers the toast.

DAD

To the world's oyster upon her graduation from law school, her third graduation from a school of higher learning.

WILMER

Don't you mean the world is her oyster?

DAD

Well, that too. But I meant what I said. She is here for the whole wide world.

WILMER

Hear ye, hear ye. Let's hear it from the valedictorian. Speech. Speech.

WILMA

Hear ye, hear ye, dear brother. I gave my speech at the commencement. You heard me then.

DAD

We are proud of you, Wilma. You got those three degrees in record time.

The festive evening continues into the wee hours with unexpected well-wishers dropping by.

Mom sits taking it all in with a smile on her face and a twinkle in each eye.

INT. WILMA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Excited, Wilma hums a lively tune while decorating her newly-acquired apartment.

She selects clothing in preparation for an employment interview tomorrow.

She falls asleep while holding Wally's photograph.

INT. LAW OFFICE OF THOMAS LYNCH AND WARD - DAY

RECEPTIONIST

Mister Thomas, Wilma Riser is here for her interview.

RECEPTIONIST

Please follow me Ms. Riser.

The receptionist escorts Wilma to managing partner

JACK THOMAS' OFFICE

Thomas offers her a cup of coffee. She declines but accepts his offer of tea.

JACK

You have an impressive resume, Wilma.

WILMA

Thank you.

JACK

Three college degrees. And three perfect grade point averages. I don't see much of that. Never actually.

WILMA

Thank you, Mister Thomas.

JACK

I have never met your father but I've always admired his business skills.

Wilma smiles.

JACK

And his military achievements too. Many men would have given up five years of their lives to be a heroic wartime submarine commander as was he.

WILMA

Yes, my mother, brother and I admire him too.

JACK

Self-made billionaires are very rare. Very rare indeed.

Jack opens a folder placed in the center of his well-organized desk decorated with two Yogi Berra bobblehead dolls.

JACK

You have excellent credentials. I know from my experience that law school can drive you nutty. Chemistry and political science can't be easy either.

Jack silently revisits a letter. Wilma can see it is from the U.S. Army.

JACK

Beast training is quite grueling. Well, you obviously didn't let it hinder your future. To tell the truth, I washed out of flight training. Disappointment comes to all.

WILMA

Failing at West Point has been my only real disappointment.

JACK

Judging from what I learned about you, I don't think you will have many disappointments during your life.

Jack rises from his chair and motions to Wilma.

JACK

Come with me. I want you to meet the team.

OFFICE BULLPEN - CONTINUOUS

Jack shows Wilma around and introduces her to his partners, MIKE LYNCH and DAVID WARD. She nods expressing satisfaction.

As they leave the bullpen, Wilma notices and appreciates looks of acceptance.

JACK THOMAS' OFFICE

JACK

Wilma, I am pleased to offer you an entry-level position. Think it over. Please call me tomorrow. We can talk about salary, benefits and other matters.

WILMA

Thank you so much, Mr. Thomas.

INT. FIRST FLOOR - DAY

Jack Thomas escorts Wilma to the ground-level entrance. Wilma extends her hand. They shake hands in a business-like way.

EXT. AN INDIANAPOLIS STREET - DAY

Outside and out of sight from TLW, at age thirty, Wilma hops, skips, and jumps. She talks to herself while looking at her reflection.

WILMA

Whee, life is great.

People look. Some laugh. Others shake their heads. Cars slow. Some stop. Drivers honked horns as they gave Wilma a thumbs up.

LITTLE BOY

Mom, what's wrong with that woman?

LITTLE BOY'S MOM

Hush. She can hear you. I'll explain when we get home.

INT. MARION COUNTY INDIANA JAIL - DAY

Wilma enters the main entrance as another person leaves. He holds the door open for Wilma. She walks to the

VISITOR'S ROOM

WILMER

Good of you to come.

WILMA

I didn't come to be good. I came with bad news. Mom and Dad have been killed.

WILMER

Huh? How? Did Billy Victor send a hitman? He always said he would get us all.

WILMA

In your line of work, you know all about hit men, don't you? No, they were hit by an earthquake, not by an earthman.

Wilma emphasizes the syllables quake and man.

WILMER

Oh. Anyway, we know Billy thinks Dad swindled his dad out of a quarter-billion dollars. We better watch our backs.

Wilmer sits motionless pondering. Wilma waits.

WILMER

Only you and I remain. And, you might bite the dust before me.

WILMA

Why do you say that?

WILMER

You yourself once said he is out to do you in for giving him the cold shoulder. He wanted to marry you.

WILMA

That was just an expression.

Wilmer raises his eyebrows, looks her in the eyes, turns his palms up, and shrugs his shoulders.

WILMA

Is that all you have to say? Don't you even want to know where or the details?

WILMER

Does it even matter?

WILMA

Yes. Their last thoughts were probably full of disappointment because of you.

Wilma gives him the evil eye.

WILMA

You should care but now that you just inherited two-billion dollars, you don't.

WILMER

You're getting the same thing.

Wilma shows disgust.

WILMA

How long are you here this time? What is this, number three?

WILMER

Don't know.

WILMA

Why are you here?

Wilmer responds in his usual nonchalant way.

WILMER

They say spitting on the sidewalk. But they don't have evidence.

Wilma ignores his cockiness.

WILMA

Are you guilty?

WILMER

Innocent 'til proven guilty. With that law degree, don't you know these things?

WILMA

Just answer the question.

WILMER

Besides I'm a pillar in the community. I'm in church every Sunday. Sometimes even Wednesday.

Wilma rolls her eyes. Wilmer grins.

WILMA

Someday I might be your friend. Until then, I'm only your sister. And, not by choice.

WILMER

Yeah, boy. Until you need my help. Right?

WILMA

If I ever need your kind of help, I'll be in dire straits.

WILMER

It'll happen when you feel the bullshit of politics. Those jealous politicians will run all over you. You are hearing this from a prophet, remember?

WILMA

That's it. I'm outa here.

WILMER

Just kidding. Do I still get an invite to the White House if you are elected?

WILMA

Not if. When. It will happen if voters don't learn about you. I don't want your kiss of death.

WILMER

Just like prison inmates hate child molesters, politicians hate upper crust people like you. They won't tell you but they do.

Wilma calls the guard. He opens the door for her exit. She doesn't look back.

INT. TLW CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

SUPER: "1980"

Attorneys and staff assemble in a large conference room. A catering service brings food and drinks. The mood quickly becomes festive.

JACK THOMAS

It's the thing to say at going away parties but we sincerely mean it, Wilma. We hate to see you go. You are a remarkable person. Like everybody employed here, you are top-notch.

Applause.

JACK THOMAS

Now, Mr. Lynch and Mr. Ward have a couple of words. I told the two marathon talkers to keep it short. That this party is for Wilma, not for them.

Laughter all around.

MIKE LYNCH

Thanks a lot, Mister Boombox.

More laughter

MIKE LYNCH

Yes, and I will keep it short. Wilma has done wonders for us during the past ten years.

Mike walks over to a large window. He views gorgeous Indianapolis from the fortieth floor. He continues with his speech.

MIKE LYNCH

Not only for us and our clients but the community as well by serving as a member of our city council.

Mike winks toward Wilma.

MIKE LYNCH

And now, she is off to Washington to be one of our two senators. Please join me in giving Wilma the best advice she will ever have.

Mike turns toward Wilma.

MIKE LYNCH

Wilma, don't be a politician. Be a human. Best wishes.

Laughter and applause.

David Ward steps up to the podium.

DAVID WARD

And I will keep it short as well. I am too polished to call our distinguished senior partner some kind of a jerk as he called me. I'll get right to the reason we are here.

Laughter from all but especially loud from Jack Thomas.

DAVID WARD

We are a diverse company. As I look around, I see every color of the rainbow. Wilma has always accepted and respected us for what we are inside. That's how it should be.

Applause and kudos from all.

DAVID WARD

My partners and I, all Black men, greatly appreciate the respect we get from Wilma. We know that we would have announced visitors to her home and served coffee fifty years ago.

More applause.

DAVID WARD

We love you, Wilma. Be sure to come back and visit. Best of luck. This is for you from all of us.

Ward hands Wilma a gift-wrapped box. She opens the box and sees expensive jewelry. She tears up.

The party ends about an hour later with the employees personally wishing everything good for Wilma.

WILMA

Thank you all so much. I'm looking forward to another utopia. Just like the utopia of working here.

Lights go out. Everyone leaves. The enthusiastic chatter is indistinguishable.

INT. RUSSELL SENATE OFFICE BUILDING - DAY

"1981"

A man knocks at Wilma's open office door. It is Senator TOMMY TRACKER.

SENATOR TRACKER

Good morning, Senator. I'm Tommy Tracker. I want to welcome you to the United States Senate.

Wilma rises from her chair, walks around her desk. They shake hands. She motions toward a leather chair.

WILMA

Thank you for coming. Please be seated.

Wilma sizes up the clean shaven Tracker as he walks to the chair nearest her desk. Standing about five feet and eight inches, she estimates his weight at a chubby 250 pounds.

SENATOR TRACKER

Allow me to tell you about me. I'm in my 33rd year as a senator. Notre Dame alumnus. Medical Doctor and Doctor of Philosophy.

WILMA

Very impressive.

SENATOR TRACKER

Yes. My wife passed away last year. Very beautiful. Very charming. Much like you. I sure do get lonely.

Wilma sees Tracker as a pompous bore.

She turns her back to Tracker to conceal her disgust then returns to face him.

She smiles.

WILMA

Much like me? You don't know me.

SENATOR TRACKER

I will. Besides, we will see a lot of each other. My office is next to yours. Well, got to go. Meetings, you know.

WILMA

May I tell you about my background?

SENATOR TRACKER

You bet. I hear you are remarkable. We'll use your background as a topic of discussion at a fine restaurant in a few days.

Tracker leaves. Wilma stares at her desk and shakes her head.

Wilma speaks to her image in a desk mirror.

WILMA

He won't get me in a restaurant or any social situation outside of work.

INT. WILMA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Telephone rings.

WILMA

Good evening. This is Wilma.

SENATOR TRACKER (V.O.)

Senator Riser, Tommy Tracker here. I would like you to be my guest for dinner and a stage play Friday.

WILMA

That's very nice of you. Thank you for the invitation but --

SENATOR TRACKER (V.O.)

-- Ah, no buts accepted.

WILMA

Well, I learned many years ago to avoid social activities with work colleagues.

SENATOR TRACKER (V.O.)

Why on Earth would you do that?

WILMA

Mixing the two all too often leads to resentment among others in a way that impedes progress. I'm sorry.

SENATOR TRACKER (V.O.)

First-year senators learn very early they have to color between the lines to get along.

Wilma loses interest in the conversation, shakes her head, and flips the speaker switch on.

She folds laundry.

Decides to mildly confront Tracker.

She smiles while looking at Wally's picture.

WILMA

Are you threatening me, Senator?

SENATOR TRACKER (V.O.)

No, of course not. I'm sorry I sounded threatening.

WILMA

OK. Again, thank you for calling and thank you for the invitation.

Tracker disconnects with no further comment.

Wilma slowly disconnects while still admiring Wally's picture.

EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. STREET - DAY

As Wilma walks alone after shopping, she is startled by a reflection of a man following her.

She attempts losing the stalker by stepping inside three stores.

Believing the stalker is gone, Wilma continues down the street and enters a gym for her daily workout.

INT. JIM'S GYM - CONTINUOUS

About fifteen minutes into her workout, Wilma sees the stalker.

He paces the sidewalk, peers in the gym window intermittently during Wilma's entire workout.

As Wilma changes equipment, STALKER pretends not to see her.

He turns his back to the gym, reaches inside his coat pocket, takes out a cell phone and places a call.

STALKER

Yeah, she knows I'm tailing her. No, she can't hear me. She tried to ditch me twice. She is a real looker. Anyway, what do you want me to do?

SENATOR TRACKER (V.O.)

Call me at home tonight after dinner.

STALKER

Want me to take care of her?

SENATOR TRACKER (V.O.)

No, she owes me this. No woman rebuffs me.

STALKER

I'll call you. She's changing clothes now. Should be on the street in ten minutes.

SENATOR TRACKER (V.O.)

OK Nate. Good job.

Wilma changes from workout attire to casual attire.

She scans the room. She doesn't see Stalker.

EXT. THE STREET AT JIM'S GYM - CONTINUOUS

When leaving, she unknowingly walks within six feet of Stalker as he leans against a light post.

She cannot see his face behind the magazine he holds ridiculously high.

Below the magazine, she sees a cartoon character on a T-shirt with the letters WV.

Wilma begins crossing the street. A car peels out from the curb leaving the smell of rubber. Wilma screams. The car is soon out of sight.

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY

Wilma awakens to the smile of a nurse.

NURSE

You are doing very well. Do you feel any pain?

WILMA

Thank you. No, no pain. Please tell me why I am here.

NURSE

A car struck you as you crossed the street. You were in the crosswalk. A witness said you were walking with the walk light.

WILMA

Now I remember. What is my condition?

NURSE

Vital signs are good. No broken bones. No bruises. Your shopping bag protected you. The doctor will probably release you tomorrow.

WILMA

Were other people hit?

NURSE

Only you. Several witnesses believe you were hit on purpose. The police are investigating.

WILMA

What does the driver say?

NURSE

The driver left the scene. Was a hit-and-run. I'll check on you later. Ring if you need me.

The nurse leaves. She greets two uniformed police officers, Hank and Molly. They enter Wilma's room.

HANK

We are happy you are in good condition, Senator. What can you tell us about the accident?

WILMA

I don't really know what happened other than a car sideswiped me.

HANK

Could you see the car?

WILMA

Not good. I can't describe it. It came from behind. I was busy protecting myself.

MOLLY

We have reason to believe the act was intentional. Do you have any enemies that could have done this?

WILMA

As a politician, I have had many disagreements. But with nobody that would do this...

Wilma's body language suggests otherwise.

WILMA

...Well, Senator Tommy Tracker has been quite caustic since I refused a social invitation from him five years ago. Even now, he never lets up.

Molly makes notes in small notepad.

HANK

Thank you, Senator. We'll investigate further and be in touch as needed.

WILMA

Thank you.

Hank and Molly smile and leave.

INT. NEWSROOM - DAY

BOSS

Anything new going on with the Senator Riser story?

REPORTER

Not with me. But, Nate got a tip just now. I didn't hear the conversation.

Boss spots Nate at a table in the

BREAK ROOM

NEWSMAN NATE sees boss coming. Becomes rattled.

BOSS

Heard you got a tip about Riser.

NATE

Yeah, if you want to call it a tip. I don't. Some kook. I didn't even take notes.

Boss stares at Nate with a questionable expression.

BOSS

No notes?

NATE

Naw. Like I said. Guy was kooky.

Nate becomes noticeably nervous, bounces his right leg repeatedly.

Boss notices. Looks at Nate. Raises his eyebrows.

BOSS

Sounds to me like you are hiding something.

Nate doesn't respond or look at the boss. Boss leaves in silence.

EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. SIDEWALK CAFÉ - DAY

SUPER: "1985"

Wilma and colleague, DONNA JEANNE MARION, begin discussing senatorial issues.

Five minutes in, Wilma suddenly interrupts with an uncharacteristic outburst while banging her fist on the table.

WILMA

I'm sorry. But I have to ask. Why do the senators not like me? I work hard to do the right thing.

DONNA JEANNE

I know what you mean. I see it too. It's the same everywhere. In government and the private sector.

WILMA

What do you mean? I've been in the private sector. Everyone was my friend.

DONNA JEANNE

You were fortunate. Most people resent those who show them up. And you do that with class. Who are you talking about?

WILMA

Everyone but you. Senator Tracker pesters me nonstop. I'm being stalked and that newspaper guy, Newsman Nate. He loves trashing me.

DONNA JEANNE

You're not alone with Tracker. We all avoid him when we can. Everyone calls him Senator Tactless.

WILMA

One person even told me I'm the only senator that doesn't know which fork to use. Another said I don't know how to act in public. Have I met my Waterloo?

DONNA JEANNE

Probably not. You are proper and professional. But Newsman Nate might become problematic.

WILMA

Everyone is so vicious.

DONNA JEANNE

Do you know the big thing your peers resent about you?

WILMA

No. Tell me.

DONNA JEANNE

To them, you come across as a goody-goody.

WILMA

Why?

DONNA JEANNE

Jealously. You are a wholesome achieving woman. Men don't like women one-upping them.

FLASHBACK

INT. MARION COUNTY INDIANA JAIL - DAY

VISITOR'S ROOM

WILMER

It'll happen when you feel the bullshit of politics. Those jealous politicians will run all over you. You are hearing this from a prophet, remember?

BACK TO SCENE

WILMA

What should I do?

DONNA JEANNE

Stay just as you are. They know your work has merit.

Donna Jeanne starts to talk but hesitates.

WILMA

Go on.

DONNA JEANNE

They still laugh about Tracker telling you it would be easier urinating up a rope than draining the swamp.

WILMA

Well, the swamp needs draining. Most members think Congress is the land of opportunity for their personal enrichment. Not for the people's enrichment.

Wilma emphasizes the word personal while shaking her head slowly.

Donna Jeanne looks at the check and takes money from her purse.

WILMA

Anything else I should know?

DONNA JEANNE

Yes. Newsman Nate. Be careful. He and Tracker are as thick as thieves about their dislike for you.

WILMA

I wish I knew why. Then, maybe I could fix things. Does anyone know why?

DONNA JEANNE

I don't know. I think their goal is to bring you down. They have most of the men senators calling you the bitch.

WILMA

Excuse me. I want to think.

Wilma steps a few feet from their table.

Donna Jeanne watches. Wilma dabs her eyes with a tissue.

As Wilma returns, Donna Jeanne shakes her head and dabs her eyes too.

DONNA JEANNE

Nate looks for dirt on you. He only gets made-up stories. He knows it but prints them anyway. He is smart. He knows how to protect himself from lawsuits. A real jerk.

Wilma drums her fingers on the table while Donna Jeanne talks.

DONNA JEANNE

People love reading about shady politicians you know. Nate milks it for all it's worth.

WILMA

How does he keep his job?

DONNA JEANNE

He kisses up to his boss. Rumor has it Nate has something on him.

WILMA

Oh? Like blackmail-type goods?

DONNA JEANNE

Yes. Also, many around here believe Nate has some kind of a leadership position with the underworld. I've heard he even controls the nation's president. And, he keeps such a meaningless job as a way to keep out of the limelight.

WILMA

Why doesn't Congress investigate?

DONNA JEANNE

Not sure. Perhaps Nate has goods on our esteemed lawmakers too. These stories are just rumors. Nobody knows.

WILMA

Wow. If true, our colleagues won't dare meddle with Newsman Nate's hornet's nest.

DONNA JEANNE

Probably not.

WILMA

Thank you for telling me what others won't.

As they leave, Donna Jeanne gives up talking to the spaced-out Wilma. She attempts humor by waving her hand across Wilma's face.

DONNA JEANNE

Hey, are you in there?

Wilma doesn't reply.

EXT. STEPS OF THE U.S. CAPITOL - DAY

Via televised evening news, Wilma shocks the country.

WILMA

When I came here, I wanted so much to make the United States a better place. I wanted to make a difference. I failed. I am extremely discouraged and ashamed of the deception used by both the House and Senate members.

Spectators in attendance gasp in unison having never heard anything like this, a public announcement categorically trashing all peers.

Wilma then denigrates the people.

WILMA

And to the voters, I ask for what do you use your heads? Hat racks? You elect the scummiest to represent you. Since childhood I wanted to be the president of what was once a nice place and a great nation.

Wilma senses crowd anger building. The anger worsens to a fever pitch. She takes a deep breath.

WILMA

I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to return the country to what the founders envisioned. You people and your elected officials are mere pimples on the butt of progress.

Wilma fields streams of invectives. People spit on her. She uses a tissue to clean her face and arms. She composes herself and attempts to finish.

WILMA

A few minutes ago, I submitted my resignation letter, effective today. I will continue working hard from the outside to make a difference. That I promise. It is my goal. I will not fail.

People storm the steps to have at it with her.

Capitol police officers rush to rescue her. While fighting the crowd, they place a fence separating her and the spectators.

WILMA

I will provide a way for the people to come together in the spirit of one for all and all for one. I have a plan and this time I will not fail to achieve my goal. This is not the end of me.

Wilma becomes rattled. With trembling hands, a shaky voice, and a red face, she manages to finish.

WILMA

I've been stalked. I've been hit by a car, a hit the police say was intentional.

Spectators throw personal items at Wilma. She ducks all but for a live rat that hit her left elbow.

She rubs her elbow and continues.

WILMA

I've been called all the spiteful names imaginable. Even a bitch. I will tell you this. If I must wear the name, I will play the game. Further, I will tell all I know and all I think I know to anyone who asks.

The angry crowd continues its out-of-control tongue-lashing.

WILMA

Believe me, I have much more work to do. In the words of my hero, the famous General Douglas MacArthur, I shall return.

With a raised voice, Wilma concludes.

WILMA

I will make a difference.

MARK MY WORDS.

She storms off not looking back. Reporters clamor with unanswered questions.

INT. THE WASHINGTON NEWS OFFICE - DAY

At the farthest corner of a large room, Newsman Nate bangs on a keyboard inside a

TRASHY CUBICAL

A dusty photo of Wilma with a hand drawn middle finger pointing to her nose hangs crookedly on the wall.

Nate hands an article about Wilma's resignation address to his boss.

BOSS

Sure you want us to go with this?

NATE

You bet. Why not?

BOSS

Suggesting she is a lesbian because she never married is dumb. We'll lose all our readers. The country is long past such bullshit ideas.

Boss hands the article back to Nate.

BOSS

Change it.

Nate changes the wording and hands the article back to Boss.

NATE

How's this?

BOSS

Damn you Nate. Find something good to write about her. You have never genuinely praised her. It has always been faint praise. Do it this one time.

Boss leans into Nate's face, rips the article, tosses it on the floor. He leaves the cubical in a profanity rage.

Heads pop up over cubicles. Many smile. Some laugh. Most shake their heads.

One man raises his fist above his head as a symbol of victory.

SYMBOL MAN

Right on, boss. We're on your side. Hot dog. Life is good.

INT. WILMA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

While packing to leave Washington, a television news report distracts Wilma. She stops packing and watches.

REPORTER

Today, four days after Wilma Riser resigned from her senatorial position, her whereabouts are unknown. Police suspect foul play.

Wilma gasps and staggers to her sofa.

REPORTER

In a possible related manner, the body of Senator Tommy Tracker was found in his Washington apartment. Early reports from the police indicate the senator died from a self-inflicted gunshot.

Wilma screams.

REPORTER

In a note left by Tracker, he expressed deep remorse about attempting to kill Senator Wilma Riser with his car. We will report more as information becomes available.

Telephone rings.

WILMA

Yes.

UNIDENTIFIED MAN (V.O.)

Have you heard about Tommy?

WILMA

Senator Tracker?

UNIDENTIFIED MAN (V.O.)

Uh-huh.

WILMA

Yes, I heard. Who are you?

UNIDENTIFIED MAN (V.O.)

Doesn't matter. He was my best friend. I've known you and have followed you for years. Here is a warning. Someday, I'll get you. Until then --

WILMA

-- Tell me who are or I'll hang up and call the police.

UNIDENTIFIED MAN (V.O.)

Until then, I'll follow you wherever you go. You won't know me. My disguises are foolproof. I promise to get your pompous Mensan ass.

FLASHBACK

EXT. SIDEWALK AT AN INDIANAPOLIS HIGH SCHOOL - DAY

Pesky BILLY VICTOR, on roller skates, feigns an accidental bump into Wilma then does a backflip.

BITSY

You know, Wilma, he has a crush on you.

WILMA

Yeah, yeah. He really just wants my dad's money.

All giggle.

BITSY

He wants more than your family money.

WILMA

What's that suppose to mean?

BITSY

Guess.

ITSY

He tells everyone he is going to marry you someday.

WILMA

Have you heard him?

ITSY

Well...

BITSY

I have. He told me he'll love you 'til he dies. He said he will follow you to the White House. And, if you reject him he will get revenge. Then he hummed some country music song.

BACK TO SCENE

WILMA

I know who you are. It just clicked. You are Billy Victor. The same man who has been stalking me, aren't you? Billy? Billy?

Caller disconnects.

INT. HIGH RISE PROFESSIONAL OFFICE BUILDING - DAY

Wilma enters, scans directory showing more than two-hundred names of men and women grouped by profession.

She enters the elevator and selects the twentieth floor.

She finds and enters the

OFFICE OF DR. MIGUEL SANCHEZ

Wilma looks at her wrist watch showing military time "1000" hours.

Dr. Sanchez, a psychologist about sixty-years-old and average in all aspects introduces himself and initiates the meeting without exchanged pleasantries.

DR. SANCHEZ

Ms. Riser, tell me about yourself and why you are here.

Wilma describes her picture-perfect childhood and summarizes her concerns.

WILMA

Here in Washington, everything turned upside down and...

She describes in detail the treatment she received from her first day as a senator.

WILMA

...so you see, I feel like I am a complete failure and I really know I'm not.

Dr. Sanchez acknowledges her comments in a professional and compassionate way.

Wilma's wristwatch shows "1045" hours as the meeting ends.

WILMA

Thank you so much and I will seek the peacefulness a long respite can provide as we discussed.

Wilma leaves with a smile on her face and a pep in her step.

INT. WASHINGTON NATIONAL AIRPORT - DAY

Wilma, while waiting for her flight, sees a uniformed police officer with 2 men in dark suits wearing sunglasses.

Wilma is visibly shaken. She places a Washington Redskins cap on her head.

The three men talk among themselves while looking toward Wilma.

FLASHBACK

INT. MARION COUNTY INDIANA JAIL - DAY

Wilma enters the main entrance as another person leaves. He holds the door open for Wilma. She walks to the

VISITOR'S ROOM

WILMA

Someday I might be your friend. Until then, I'm only your sister. And, not by choice.

WILMER

Yeah, boy. Until you need my help. Right?

WILMA

If I ever need your kind of help, I'll be in dire straits.

WILMER

It'll happen when you feel the bullshit of politics. Those jealous politicians will run all over you.

BACK TO SCENE

Wilma places a call to Wilmer. She leaves a voice message.

WILMA

Hey, brother. You were right. I'm in dire straits. Please help. I'm taking a long-deserved trip. I emailed you a list of instructions.

The three men make written notes and leave without approaching Wilma.

A very nervous Wilma boards her flight.

She takes her first-class seat next to a man she seems to know.

During the boarding process, a U.S. Army staff sergeant spots the man seated next to Wilma.

SERGEANT

Good Morning, Captain Downey.

The man seated next to Wilma nods.

EXT. INDIANAPOLIS AREA SMALL AIRPORT - DAY

Deputy Sheriff CHARLEY SMALL approaches Wilmer.

CHARLEY

Gotta ask some questions about Wilma. Where is she?

WILMER

Somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. That's what I read.

CHARLEY

You best level with me Wilmer. Don't be the same wise guy you were in high school.

WILMER

OK. I'm different than I was during my troublemaking high school days.

CHARLEY

Ha. Rumor is you are a hired killer and run drugs from South America. Yeah boy. That's different. Anyway, tell me all you know about Wilma.

Wilmer shows his unique sideways grin.

WILMER

First, do I look like a bad boy? If you have proof, arrest me. I dare say you don't and you won't because you can't.

CHARLEY

You are the same as in high school. Leopards can't change their spots and assholes can't change their colors.

WILMER

Second, she was gone without a trail after she told us all to stick it.

Looking more like a gravel pit rent-a-cop than a carefully chosen deputy, Charley scribbles on a tobacco-stained notepad.

WILMER

Could be that the perverted politician killed her and shoved her into the Gulf of Mexico before shooting himself. That's the rumor.

CHARLEY

(mocks Wilmer's grin)

Bullshit, you are her only known living blood relative. You know more than all the newspapers put together.

Wilmer shrugs his shoulders and resumes washing his plane.

CHARLEY

OK, have it your way while you can.

WILMER

While I can? What's that supposed to mean?

Frustrated, Charley throws up both arms, drops his notebook, picks it up, spits a pressurized stream of tobacco juice between his teeth, and leaves in anger.

Wilmer watches Charley, cups his hands around his mouth, and lets loose with a loud guffaw.

WILMER

See you in church, Hoss.

Wilmer continues laughing to further frustrate Charley while polishing the left engine nacelle of his immaculate Cessna Citation. He holds a can of German beer in his other hand.

INT. RURAL CLYDE, ARIZONA, USA - DAY

"1987"

Construction crews put the finishing touches on Wilma's 8,000-square-foot bunker 30 feet below the surface.

The dwelling sits in the middle of a 1-mile by 3-mile area.

Wilmer, almost asleep sitting against a fence post while chewing on a wheat straw watches.

A news alert comes over the radio, barely heard over the construction noise.

REPORTER (V.O.)

We have just received word that the search for former U.S. Senator Wilma Riser has ended.

Wilmer bolts to life. Yanks the radio closer to him and ups the volume.

REPORTER (V.O.)

With no new leads and no body found, authorities said today her remains are believed to be in the Gulf of Mexico.

WILMER

(to himself)

She'll rise like the Phoenix. Yeah boy, the new Wilma.

REPORTER (V.O.)

We will follow the situation and bring you new details as they become available.

INT. WILMER'S HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

Wilmer calls his wife, pet name SWEETS, at their home.

WILMER

Hi there, Sweets. I'll be here another month. Gotta keep clients happy, you know.

SWEETS (V.O.)

Sure. But my gosh. You are never here. The pillar of our community and a dedicated church leader. You are never here to attend the boy's activities.

Sweets' voice becomes unbearably loud.

Wilmer pushes his cell phone to arm's length. Continues eating potato chips. Upsets cheese dip in the bed.

SWEETS (V.O.)

Are you really the business consultant you claim? Maybe I should believe the stories I hear that you are a hired gun and a drug runner. Huh?

WILMER

Aw, c'mon, Sweets. You know better. If I were, somebody would have offed me by now.

SWEETS (V.O.)

Talk here is getting louder and louder. If it turns out to be true my next step is divorce. I'm almost there now.

WILMER

Never happen. Sorry, I'm not home much. Gotta make a living and --

SWEETS (V.O.)

-- No. You don't gotta make a living. We have accumulated a fortune from your earnings and we still have a couple of billion that we inherited from your parents.

WILMER

Anyway --

SWEETS (V.O.)

-- And what about your single sister's inheritance? Doesn't that come to us now that she is gone?

WILMER

Who knows. I've never seen her will. Maybe she will show up sometime. Anyway, I have to scram. Working on a large property improvement project. OK?

SWEETS (V.O.)

Just remember what I said.

WILMER

I will. Tell the boys I love them. Say goodbye Wilmer.

SWEETS (V.O.)

Goodbye, Wilmer.

Wilmer goes to bed. Can't sleep. His eyes closed and sitting against the headboard with hands behind his head, he thinks about sister Wilma's new home and about his failing marriage.

EXT. CLYDE BUS STATION - DAY

Wilmer meets Wilma and her small dog, ZEUS, upon her return from a one-year world tour.

They greet, hug, and get into Wilma's new luxury car.

INT. EATUP FAST FOOD JOINT - DAY

Wilma and Wilmer sit at the counter with coffee, burgers, and fries.

Facing a mirror Wilmer sees a man prowling around Wilma's car.

WILMER

Excuse me. I'll be right back.

From her table, Wilma watches Wilmer in the

PARKING LOT

Wilmer sees a man crawling under Wilma's car.

As Wilmer closes in and looks under the car, CRAWLING MAN releases pepper spray from an aerosol can.

CRAWLING MAN

(raspy voice)

That'll teach you dipshit.

Crawling man runs.

Wilmer recovers his eyesight quickly and returns to Wilma in the

DINING ROOM

WILMA

What's that all about?

WILMER

Some man prowling around your car. Don't know who. Got away.

INT. ALONG THE HIGHWAY - DAY

WILMER

Your new home is 15 miles from Clyde. Enjoy the scenery. Do you like your new set of wheels?

WILMA

I like. Thank you.

WILMER

State-of-the-art all the way. Bulletproof too.

WILMA

Thank you for getting it and thank you for developing my property too.

Wilmer dismisses her with a hand wave.

WILMER

Don't mention it. Wait until you see your brand-new Cessna Citation. Looks just like mine. You'll love it.

WILMA

Can't wait.

WILMER

Don't worry about anyone learning all these things belong to you. You are completely invisible.

Wilmer hesitates. His facial expression concerns Wilma.

WILMA

Something wrong?

WILMER

Maybe. You won't like what I say next.

WILMA

You better tell me. I don't want any surprises.

Wilmer glances at Zeus.

WILMER

OK. Better let me take your dog. Someone might recognize it as Wilma Risers.

WILMA

Never. If Zeus goes, I go. He is old and ailing. Only in death will we part.

WILMER

OK. Whatever. By the way, use the name Gertie from this day on. Forget that Wilma Darkheart name we talked about. It might make people think of Wilma Riser.

EXT. WILMA'S PROPERTY - DAY

They arrive at Wilma's new home.

They drive through the one-mile lighted tunnel with a hidden entrance and into Wilma's bunker garage.

A graveled road leading to Wilma's dwelling sits on top of the tunnel.

The sight of a forty-year-old flatbed truck siting alongside an ugly double-wide appalls Wilma.

WILMA

Is this what I thanked you for? You said I would be living in an upscale home.

WILMER

Relax, relax dear sister. What you see is a façade. We want people to think you are dirt poor. Remember? Inside you will see luxury like you have never seen.

EXT. OUTSIDE THE DOUBLE-WIDE - DAY

WILMER

Just what you want. You can live here self-exiled and incognito until the cows come home. Like?

Wilma views as much of the three square miles as the eyes allow.

WILMA

Sure do. Lets go inside. I want to see for myself if it is as upscale as you say.

INT. DOUBLE WIDE INTERIOR - DAY

They enter. Using a handheld remote, Wilmer exposes a shabby hidden elevator. They descend one level.

WILMA

Whoa. I don't like this elevator one bit.

WILMER

Relax Sis. Only use the elevator if you need to get upstairs quickly. Like answering the door. Otherwise, use the garage for coming and going. Let me show you what you have in your underground castle.

They exit the elevator in the

LIVING QUARTERS

where Wilmer leads Wilma quickly through the house except for one room. Then, that room. The

COMMAND CENTER

WILMER

This is the command center. Equipped with state-of-the-art electronics. You can view every square inch of your 1,940 acres with the wall-mounted monitors. I'll give you the grand tour later. Oh, yeah. Property bills are not your responsibility. Call me if you need maintenance.

WILMA

You really did well.

WILMER

GOODBYE USA: ONCE WAS A NICE PLACE -- THE STORY OF WILMA

CONTENTS

WILMA

of

Wilma

Part One

Utopia to Waterloo

Part Two

Wilma Turns Dark

Revengeful Wicked Wilma

Part Three

Wilmer on the Run

United States Supreme Court

The Spec Screenplay