THE VOICE OF CHICAGO'S GAY, LESBIAN, BI, TRANS AND QUEER COMMUNITY SINCE 1985

Jack Adams, the Secret Service agent charged with assassinating President George W. Bush and being held for psychiatric evaluation, has told the psychiatrist the 'public' story. In a computer file secretly delivered to his children, he now reveals the 'real story'. Here he tells about his friend and boss offering him a deal that would spare his life.

Two days ago I was called to a session with Dr. Haber. We have pretty much stopped meeting on a regular basis. I guess they got everything they needed psychologically to build their case, so I've been on my own for the past couple weeks. When I walked into her office the escorts shut the door and stood outside as usual. I sat down across from her and she said, 'There's someone here to talk with you. If you want me I'll be just in the next room. You can tell them to summon me and I'll come in. Is that clear?'

I nodded.

She left the room through a side door and closed it behind her. A few seconds later it opened again. I half expected one of you to walk through. Or perhaps your mother. Instead it was Raife.

We shook hands and he sat in the chair next to mine, while two guys who were with him swept the room with bug detectors. We sat quietly until they were through. 'Clean,' said the big guy and they went out the way they had entered.

'They treating you all right?' he asked.

'You know they are. You're probably the one making sure they do,' I said.

He smiled kindly. 'Look, I'll get straight to the point. We have a proposal.'

'Life without parole but I get color TV with cable?'

'Something like that,' he said. 'But without the life sentence.'

'I don't understand.'

'We know, Jack.'

I couldn't just give in. 'Know what?'

'You really want to play that game?'

'So what's the proposal? You aren't going to suggest she and I trade places are you?'

He smiled and shook his head as if to say, 'Always the wise guy.'

'Okay, okay, sorry. What's the proposal?' I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

'Step One: you take the wrap.'

'There's a step after that?'

'You die.'

'I get to refuse this proposal, do I?'

'You kill yourself,' Raife said. I could see he was enjoying this. A cat playing with its dinner.

'Oh, I get it. Mafia stuff.'

'Then you wake up in heaven, only heaven looks a lot like Southern France, or maybe Rio or even Italy. You always liked Italy. You pretty much get to choose.'

'Heaven looks like Italy, does it?'

'Heaven looks pretty much any way you picture it. Within reason.'

I burst out laughing. Couldn't help it.

'What?'

'This is Mehlman's idea. Or Rover. This is the RNC worrying about 2008. She gets widowhood; I get my black place in the history book along with Booth and Oswald and Sirhan.'

'I wouldn't put it quite like that, Jack.'

'And how are my kids going to see it?'

'Jack, either way, your kids are going to see—and hear—pretty much the same story. At least this way you get your life back.'

'I get my life back? Did you hear yourself say that?'

'Okay, you get a life back. Maybe not the one you had, but a life, never the less.'

I mulled it over. I can do this, I told myself. I knew I could do this because I knew I could get word to you somehow. And I knew that Raife knew this, too. He just couldn't talk about it. 'All right.'

'All right? Just like that? You don't want to think about it?'

'I just did.'

'You don't get to see your kids, Jack. You don't get to see anybody. You're going to be dead in 48 hours.'

'How are you going to do it? Whose cadaver is going to be me?'

'You leave that to us.'

'I want to know just this one thing.'

Raife worried his jaw with his hand. 'There isn't a cadaver.'

'No cadaver. No corpse. That's a neat one. I get beamed up by aliens?'

'Jack, do you accept the proposal or don't you? I have to put things into motion.'

'I already told you. I'm in.'