Page 4 of Backwater Justice

Benjamin didn’t like his brother very much. He never felt a connection with him. Granted, Benjamin was nine when Oliver was born, so by the time Oliver could play with other children, Benjamin was a teenager. Now Benjamin was forty-eight, and Oliver was thirty-nine. They were almost a generation apart. Oliver had a more entitled viewpoint, and with Patricia’s doting, that wasn’t about to change any time soon.

Oliver

Oliver’s story was not unique. Born into a wealthy family associated with high-ranking politicians, he was afforded luxuries and special treatment at every turn. He was entitled in a way that most overindulged children expect. Patricia had doted on him from the time he was born, making excuses for his bad behavior and often rewarding it. Her theory was that eventually, Oliver would begin to appreciate everything that was handed to him. But that wasn’t the case. As he grew bigger, so did his expectations, and his expectations became more expensive. Between his senator grandfather and his pampering mother, Oliver was spoiled rotten.

When Oliver turned eighteen, his grandfather bought him a Porsche. It was a status symbol he cherished. He drove it across the country to Towson, Maryland, his mother’s alma mater, where he was to begin his college education. It was the only school that accepted the less-than-average-grade student with few extracurricular activities to speak of. A huge donation from his mother’s family might have played a role in his acceptance, but no one uttered a word about the endowment.

Towson had a reputation of being a “party school,” and Oliver felt compelled to uphold the college’s status. Before the holiday break, Oliver slammed the Porsche into a tree after slugging down a bottle of tequila. The local authorities didn’t want to incur the wrath of a senior politician who believed Oliver’s story: it was a prank that had gone bad; some of his buddies had slipped him a mickey and let him drive home. Oliver had the good sense to claim he couldn’t remember who he was with. His grandfather was outraged and insisted on knowing who was responsible, but Oliver stuck to his story. “I don’t remember, Gramps. It’s all a blur.” Senator Oliver Wakeman took his grandson at his word, dropped the subject, as did law enforcement.

During his freshman year, he was failing miserably and was put on probation. He had one more semester to redeem himself if he wanted to return. It was a struggle, but he managed to squeak by with a C average. A little bit of cheating helped.

As his sophomore year began, he quickly jumped back into party mode, and his grades began slipping once again. Out of fear of embarrassing the family, his mother hired a tutor to help him improve. But Oliver had a better idea. He’d pay someone to do his homework, and in the two-hundred-plus classes, he’d pay someone to take the tests for him. Unless someone was trying to get the professor’s attention, the instructors were not scanning the students’ faces. They were busy lecturing, writing on a whiteboard, or doing PowerPoint presentations. They were not policing the class for truancy, a fact Oliver readily noticed and appreciated.

In those large lecture halls, he always wore the same clothes and baseball cap to class. When it came time for tests, he hired a brainiac with similar build and bought him the exact same outfit. It worked for all of his final exams. His mother was proud of his B average, but Milton wasn’t convinced and suggested Oliver transfer to a school closer to home. Oliver objected, as did his mother. They won the argument.

When the time came for Oliver to declare his major, he picked Communications. He was a good-looking, five-foot-eleven-inch athlete with a thick head of hair, piercing blue eyes, and a very expensive, dazzling smile. His years of playing lacrosse and skiing made him quick and agile. He had a lot of charm at the time and thought broadcasting was a good path for him. As the saying goes, “He had a face for television.” His well-connected grandfather promised to lean on his media connections to help secure a position for Oliver. Oliver understood it would begin as a low-paying internship but assumed he would be fast-tracked to a well-paid, visible position.

Upon graduation, as promised, he got a job at a local television station, and his grandfather bought him a new car. This time, it was a Range Rover. The senator thought it would be a better choice than a sports car. Oliver needed to be taken seriously. Once he had his foot in the door and gained popularity, he could drive whatever he wanted. For now, Oliver had to put on a show, literally and figuratively. Perception was everything.

After a few weeks of summer vacation, Oliver began his internship at station WWDC. The job lasted for three years. He resented doing local stories about new bakery openings, or cute classroom activities. He thought it was time he should be covering major stories or sitting behind the news desk. He clashed with his boss many times, and ultimatums were finally laid out for him. “Do the assignment or get out.” His grandfather got wind of his self-important behavior and encouraged him to resign. It was ironic that his grandfather had contributed to Oliver’s attitude and now had to do something about it.

The senator spoke to Mill and explained that things weren’t quite working out in the capital, and Oliver was going to go back to Oregon to work for the family business. Mill could easily find something for Oliver to do. Once again, the senator reminded everyone that perception was everything. As much as Oliver Wakeman loved his grandson, he didn’t want the young man to sully the family reputation.

Unlike his brother Benjamin, Oliver felt no real kinship to his family or the business. He wanted to travel and see the world. But Mill wasn’t going to pay for his son to gallivant without pulling his weight. Milton was not a fan of the mollycoddling Oliver had experienced all his life. Patricia overruled her husband at every turn, but with the senator supporting him in this particular case, Mill had won a battle. Oliver moved home, where his father gave him a job as director of transportation.

* * *

Ditching the Range Rover for a new Porsche was Oliver’s first order of business. He moved into a swanky apartment, where he lived for five years until his grandfather passed away. Much to the family’s surprise, the senator left Oliver a sizable inheritance that he had no trouble spending.

Oliver was single and considered himself the most eligible bachelor in the county. He played the Spangler card at every opportunity. He was full of flash, and full of himself. But he had charm and money, so many people overlooked his arrogance.

He lived in a 2500-square-foot condominium with a deck and a hot tub. It was the supreme bachelor pad. His wardrobe consisted of high-end designer clothes—Italian silk shirts from Todd Snyder, tailored Ferragamo jeans, Ferragamo sneakers and shoes, and several Tom Ford suits. If it didn’t have a luxury label, he didn’t wear it. He had a special drawer in his walk-in closet just for his Rolex watches. He went to the most expensive barber. He even smelled expensive.

With a new sports car every two years, he was considered quite a catch. But Oliver didn’t like to share, unless he was showing off in front of friends. He’d reach for the check when his pals were at The Underground, a hip speakeasy bar. He’d date a girl for a few months until she began expecting perks like Valentino handbags or vacations to Cabo. He’d have fun for a while, and then break another heart. His goal was to find someone who came from a family with more money than his. Considering the Spanglers were the wealthiest family in the area, it was an ongoing crusade. He’d take vacations to expensive resorts in search of a single, monied woman. He didn’t care about her age as long as she was well-heeled. Oliver had several affairs with older women. One in particular could have set him up in a penthouse suite, but she was too demanding, and not really much fun, so he continued to play the field until another opportunity presented itself.

He never hesitated to mention that his grandfather was once a senator. Rarely, if ever, did he refer to his other grandfather, who was killed on the job. As far as Oliver was concerned, Harold Spangler was a blue-collar worker with bad luck. What he didn’t seem to comprehend was that it was his grandfather’s accident that had spurred his father’s determination to succeed. Oliver only focused on the senator, the one who lavished him with gifts, but his inheritance was dwindling, and the indulgence train was about to come to a grinding halt. If Oliver wanted to maintain his lifestyle, he would have to devise a money-making plan that went beyond his salary. So he did.

Before the money dried up, Oliver took what he thought might be his last excessive vacation two years before. It was a trip that would change everything.

* * *

Benjamin hadn’t received the same kind of bequest from his grandfather as his brother because the senator believed Benjamin had the capability to succeed on his own. When the will was read, Benjamin didn’t know if he should be flattered, disappointed, or dismayed. He took it on the chin and put the token inheritance into a trust fund for his kids’ college.

From an outsider’s point of view, Oliver appeared to be the wealthier of the two. People surmised Benjamin lived modestly because he had a family to support. In contrast, Oliver’s lifestyle was lavish. The family knew the amount of money Oliver received, and what he spent was obvious. They assumed Oliver had made investments that gave him the cash to flaunt. But Oliver wasn’t that business savvy, at least not at S.E.I. His management skills were unimpressive, and Benjamin often had to cover for his brother’s mistakes and faux pas. Benjamin thought it was his duty to protect the younger Spangler. Oliver expected it. Benjamin was always his fallback guy. It was surprising that Benjamin had the patience for it, but Oliver was family.

* * *

Oliver and Benjamin were as different as night and day. Oliver’s focus was always on how much money he could put into his own pocket, not necessarily into the company or its future. He and his brother had a recurring argument about reforestation. Benjamin loved the land, the air, the lakes. He appreciated the trees. For every tree the company cut down, thirty were planted in its place, even though the law required only twenty. By Benjamin’s calculation, they were increasing the new growth by fifty percent.

Oliver thought company policy was too generous. “Why do we have to do more than required?” was Oliver’s battle cry.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“But we’re only required to plant twenty,” Oliver would come close to whining.

“Correct. But we can do more. The company can afford it, and it’s good for the planet.”

That conversation would occur almost every month when the company had its budget meeting. Milton had begun adding more trees several years before, and Benjamin was not about to change his father’s policy.

---