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Dear Diary:December 19th

Like I told you before, we, the trans girls I have met through Stephanie, have been following Junior for two weeks. We have had all of the trans girls in our group take turns. So far, no luck at finding a place to confront him when he is alone. The only public places he has gone to is Arden Park and The Blue Lagoon. There are too many of his friends at Arden Park. When he goes to The Blue Lagoon he is alone with his boyfriend. We may have to confront him there.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Stephanie asked Robbie.

They were in Robbie’s new car, a three-year-old Honda that Blake, her dad, helped her get. Priscilla almost threw a fit over it. How dare Blake make a decision like this without asking Priscilla? Robbie, exercising her newly found strength and maturity, slammed her. She reminded Priscilla that, at age eighteen, Robbie could do as she pleased.

Priscilla threatened to kick her out of the house. Robbie stopped her cold by telling her she was thinking about moving in with her dad anyway. That ended it.

“Christmas? I try not to think about it. I’ll spend Christmas Eve with my dad and Christmas Day with the dysfunctional Powells. They’ll all be there. Aunts, uncles, cousins, people I don’t know and don’t want to know. I’ll feel like Mother Dear is putting me on display.”

They were early for their Thursday night meeting of the trans group. So early they helped set up the room. Six days until Christmas, Amanda had told the usual group attendees that the meeting would be heavily attended. To prepare, Robbie and Stephanie helped set up thirty chairs.

“There’s been another rape,” Amanda told Robbie. Amanda had pulled Robbie aside to speak privately to her about this.

“We’ve been following him,” Robbie said. “How could he…”

“This was in Woodbury, on the east side of St. Paul,” Amanda interrupted her and said. “He probably wasn’t in on this.”

“How, who, what?” Robbie stammered.

“She’s not one of our group. We do have girls from all over but not her. Her name is Carolyn Weaver. Formerly, Carl Weaver.

“It happened two nights ago. Robbie, she was beaten and stabbed several times. She’s at Regions Hospital. They’re not sure if she’s gonna make it. This time they wore masks.”

“How did you find out about this?” Robbie asked.

“Lauren told me. Remember her. She wasn’t here on Tuesday. She was at the hospital. She called me.”

Lauren was a twenty-one-year-old trans who was having serious doubts. She was in therapy trying to cope with being gender affirmed at age fifteen.

At 6:55 the room was starting to fill up. Thirty chairs would not be enough. The holidays normally brought out a lot of loneliness and depression. According to Amanda, she believed it was even worse for the trans community. Especially so for those dealing with doubts and regrets.

“What about Junior?” Amanda asked.

“So far, the only places he is a regular is Arden Park and The Blue Lagoon . We may have to go at him at the Blue Lagoon when he is away from his friends at Arden Park,” Robbie said.

“Are you up to it?” Amanda asked.

“By myself? No! But if there are four or five of us… ”

“Saturday night. The place will be crowded. He won’t do a thing. We’ll confront him with the photos and Holly. I’ll get Naomi to come with. She’s a big girl.”

Stephanie was alone in her car with the duty to follow Junior Bonner Saturday evening. It was easy enough. She saw him leave his home after 7:00. He picked up his gay friend then took the direct route to the nightclub.

There was a line at the door. A cold, snowy, December night was not the place to stand outside in a line, especially for girls in skimpy, stylish dresses and heels.

Junior and partner were two people ahead of Stephanie. Even if they saw her, they would not know her. While she waited in the slow-moving line, Stephanie made a very brief call to Robbie.

Once inside, Stephanie held out a fifty-dollar bill to the hostess and said, “I need a table for five.”

The hostess, an attractive woman who looked Stephanie over with a come hither look, took the fifty.

“Right this way, doll,” the hostess said.

While she led Stephanie to the table, Stephanie looked for Junior. When they reached the table, she spotted him. The two of them had been given a table for two. It was under a faux palm tree along the back wall.

Perfect , Stephanie thought.

At the table, the hostess held a chair for Stephanie. As she placed a reserved sign on the table, she whispered, “If you’re not with anyone, maybe later?”

“Oh, sorry. I am. But I’ll keep it in mind,” Stephanie said.

“Sweet,” the hostess smiled, winked then walked off.

It was thirty minutes before the others showed up. Stephanie, of course, had been watching both Junior, his friend and the entrance. She finally saw them being escorted by the lesbian hostess.

Robbie sat down next to Stephanie. When she did, with the hostess still watching, Stephanie leaned into Robbie and kissed her on the lips. When she saw this, instead of annoying the hostess, the woman winked and smiled at her.

“What?” Robbie asked. It was too early for the music so conversing was easy.

Stephanie explained it, which produced a laugh.

“How much is a Coke?” Holly asked.

“Twelve dollars,” Stephanie answered.

“Twelve dollars, for a Coke?” Naomi asked.

“Yep, they assume you’re gonna fill it with booze,” Robbie replied.

“This place is a cash machine. We should open one ourselves,” Amanda said.

“There he is,” Holly quietly said, ignoring the conversation, staring at Junior.

They ordered soft drinks and watched the crowd. All the time Holly continued to stare at Junior.

“Stop, he’ll notice it,” Amanda told Holly.

“I want to hurt him, hurt him bad,” Holly replied.

“How do we want to do this?” Robbie asked.

“We go over to his table, tell the boyfriend to get lost and drop the photos in front of him,” Amanda said.

“Let’s drop the photos in front of him first,” Naomi said. “Don’t give him a chance to deny it. Throw it in his face.”

“What if he doesn’t care?” Stephanie asked.

“He’ll care,” Robbie said. “He’s one of those macho guys. He acts like that to cover up for being gay. Let’s just go over and do it. Like Naomi said, throw the photos in his face. Threaten to put them on the internet.”

“Wait! His butt buddy is leaving,” Stephanie said as the young man with Junior stood up and walked away.

“Probably going to the restroom,” Amanda said. “Let’s go. Robbie, you have the photos?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Robbie replied.

Robbie took the chair Junior’s date had vacated. The others encircled the table. The group at the table next to them gave them curious looks then went back to their conversation. Junior was not so complacent. He reacted with a mixture of surprise, anger, then fear. The fear came out when Robbie began placing the incriminating photos in front of Junior .

“Where’d you get these? Who are you? What’s going on…?”

“Sssh, be quiet, Junior. You don’t recognize me, do you?” Robbie asked.

“What? No, who…what the hell…?” Junior muttered while looking at, but not touching, the dozen photos.

“Do you remember me?” Holly asked.

For the first time, Junior looked up at Holly. The light of recognition sparkled briefly, but unmistakably, in his eyes.

“No, huh, uh uh, um, no, I don’t know you,” Junior blathered.

“Liar,” Holly said. “We all saw it in your eyes. You remember.”

The anger returned to Junior and he tried to push back. “Get lost, you nothing bitches. I’ll slap the shit out of all you…”

The sound of the back of Robbie’s right hand making contact with Junior’s mouth startled all of them. Junior’s upper lip, making contact with his teeth, started bleeding. The slap shocked him more than it hurt. Still, he realized he was in trouble.

Junior looked at the blood on his fingers. He took a napkin and held it to his lip.

“I had nothin’ to do with anything,” Junior said.

“You don’t even know what it is you didn’t do,” Amanda said.

“I ain’t done nothing,” Junior said, his upper lip starting to swell.

Holly leaned down and across the table, looked him directly in the eyes. “You and a couple of your pals took turns raping me.”

“Don’ t bother to deny it,” Naomi said. “It just makes you look worse.”

“These are going to your dad,” Robbie said tapping a finger on the photos of Junior and his boyfriend.

“And the internet,” Stephanie added.

“Unless you confess and give up the others,” Robbie said.

“No way, I ain’t no…”

“Okay, see you on the internet,” Robbie said then started to stand.

“Wait, wait, let’s ah, I don’t know, what do you want? ”

“We told you. We’re not negotiating. These go up on every social media we can find and I deliver them to your proud father. What’s it gonna be?”

“Get lost,” Naomi said to Junior’s boyfriend who had just returned.

“What, what’s going on? Are you all right, Junior?” he asked.

The boyfriend was a small, slender youngster, probably not quite eighteen. Naomi was much bigger and stronger. She barked at him again causing him to scurry off.

“Scott McKay and Jimmy Smith,” Junior finally muttered too soft to hear. He had to say them again.

“Addresses, phone numbers, where do we find them?” Amanda asked.

“Try the park, Arden Park. Usually in the Rec Center.”

“There was another rape of a trans girl a couple nights ago in St. Paul…”

“I didn’t have anything to do with no rape in St. Paul!” Junior almost yelled.

“Did your pals, McKay and Smith?” Amanda asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen them for a few days. Let me go, let me go, I gotta go. I gotta get out of here. Please don’t show these to my dad or put them on the internet, please.”

“As long as you’re cooperative we won’t. Find out who did the rape in St Paul. We’ll wait, if you help us, we’ll help you,” Amanda said.

Junior and his friend almost ran out the door. About a week later, a few days after Christmas there was a small article in the Star Tribune’s Metro section page one, below the fold. The gist of it was the suicide of a young man in South Minneapolis. Twenty-year-old Howard Bonner, Junior, was found in their home garage. An apparent suicide with a handgun.

Junior had not discovered who the attackers were that did the St. Paul rape.