Book 4: Three Taps for Olga's "Domes" is a short story I wrote about retired judges, geriatric physicians, home health aides and nurses, as well as victims of elder abuse.These people saw the failure of the American justice system and set up a judicial and penal system of their own. Excerpt... The Dome's courtroom was full to overflowing with elderly, they all stood when the aging and frail retired federal judge tapped three times announcing the verdict of guilty on all nine charges. There was a roar of satisfaction from those in the courtroom and the halls beyond. Walking canes of the elderly tapped on the courtroom floor, tap, tap, tap in honor of Olga and the guilty verdict.
Attorney for Olga, Michael Stewart. The attorney and home health aids, the Defendents, are represented by Coombs & Dunlap, LLC, Napa, California.
The attorney had been found guilty of a number of elder abuse crimes by the Domes elder abuse justice system. He was pulled stark naked from his cold, barren, dank holding cell by three elderly but still yet strong orderlies and outfitted with a gown typically worn by nursing home residents.
He was strapped into a wheelchair which was hooked to a conveyer belt that ran the length of the floor and hallway outside. Just days before he had been driving his Porsche 911 through the Napa Valley, blue sky and unending rows of lush green vineyards, dressed in a sharkskin suit, wearing his Rolex and smiling at the $100,000 a year he had been making... a portion of that by deceiving his elderly clients. Now, all those luxuries of wealth had vanished.
"What are you doing? Where am I going?" the attorney screamed at the orderlies. No Response. The orderlies manhandled the attorney into a wheelchair, checked and rechecked the thick, black, leather straps and bindings that bound the attorney's arms, hands, legs and chest firmly to the wheelchair.
An aging frail woman looked at the orderlies and said, "Ready?" The orderlies nodded yes. Then she reached out for a set of buttons on the wall with a thin artheritic knarled finger and pushed the green button labeled START. A motor whirred to life, the conveyor belt clicked and clanked as it began to move,very slowly. The attorney in his wheelchair attached to the conveyor belt moved out of his dank cell and into and along what looked like a typical sterile white nursing home hallway; white tile flooring, white walls, white ceiling and white barren florescent tubed lighting overhead. A hallway without end. A hallway without joy.
Now he began hearing the tapping of hundreds of walking canes, walking canes that were beating against the walls of the corridor. Tap, tap, TAP. In the distance he could see hundreds of frail, elderly men and women, some in wheelchairs, others supported by their walkers, all waiting down the line for him.
As his wheelchair neared the cane holding elderly the tapping became banging with shrieks and cries of FRAUD! FRAUD! FRAUD!!! The long hallway filled with an atmosphere of anger, sadness, grief and revenge. The attorney could see that the conveyor belt ran straight down the center of the hallway and on either side of the conveyor belt, on both sides of the hallway, the elderly were lined up.
The sound of tapping grew louder bang, bang, bang as the elderly struck their wooden and aluminum walking canes on the walls, on the conveyor track, with new vigor, waiting for the attorney. The sound was overwhelming.
Faint whiffs of blood he began to sense, and now there were screams from others in wheelchairs that had gone before him; other attorneys, home health aides, police, real estate brokers and financial advisors who had initially escaped law and judgment, either through bribery, collusion or some other form of corruption.
The attorney, covered with saliva from those too weak to hold a cane, he was beaten and bloodied by hundreds of hits by canes by other angry and crippled senior citizens; the Court deemed this was not justice enough.
Now the conveyor belt track led straight through two swinging doors. As the attorney's wheelchair got closer to the doors, shaking the blood from his eyes, half dazed, he could see. The sign above the doors came into view. "MEDS".
The attorney began to think of Olga, a former client he had deceived, the way she had been poly-drugged, her hallucinations reported to Kaiser Permanente physicians, her continued reports of paranoia and finally the diagnosis of Dementia. "Oh God no!" the attorney said.
Just before passing through the swinging doors of the Meds room, the attorney looked out, outside through the Plexiglas window. The environment looked like a tropical rainforest under a series of large domes. He saw other attorneys, moving along the track still strapped to their wheelchairs, bloody, and delirious from poly-drugging, covered in ants with red headed black vultures circling above. Barely audible, he could hear screams through the thick Plexiglas window, "No not my eyes, no, no, not my eyes!" The attorneys looked as though they were soaking wet having been tracked through one of the rainforest's stagnate ponds; leeches covered their bare arms and legs.
The doors of the MEDS room swung shut behind the attorney and the conveyor belt came to an abrupt halt.
The attorney's first focus was on a hypodermic syringe held by an aging doctor. Then others came into the attorney's line of vision. Three orderlies, a nurse and ten elderly persons. The ten elderly persons and one Son, Stephen, former clients of the attorney, were sitting, eyes focused on him, all thinking, "Justice will be done, here, TODAY!"
There was a pause of silence as the attorney felt the room and his mind filling with dread.
Then, in unison, the ten former clients of the attorney spoke, "Remember us?" The doctor spoke next, "You are Attorney Scott Henry Carter. We have been waiting for you."
Story continued here at http://three-taps-for-olga-elder-abuse-usa.blogspot.com/2013/07/napa-police-department-no-sustainable.html
