Felt was locked away in a jail with his son Roger Felt. He gripped the metal bars keeping him contained in the Maine federal pen 12 hours a day, where he was stuck staring off at a strip mall parking lot as a child biked by, and trash blew in the wind. Roger ran up to him dressed in jeans, a leather biking jacket, and fast sneakers with a tennis racket in one hand, and a ball in the other.

“Care to play another game father,” his son said with a shit eating grin creeping across his goofy looking face.

“Life really is just a series of games to you, isn’t it?” said Mr. Felt frowning back at his spawn.

“I guess so dad, but I'll let you win this time” said his developmentally stunted child who ran off to play in a badly maintained tennis court.

They were in Federal custody where they had to spend 4 days of every week as a result of his son being a little slow. Felt and his team of trusted Lawyers had already assembled several top psychologists, and writers of bestselling books to testify that his son was too mentally challenged a person to be implicating the father in any schemes. He had done too many drugs and now suffered constantly seeing colors and tripping forever despite being sober, in addition to suffering from extreme gambling disorder, being a communist, and not having a job.

Felt then had his most trusted lawyer Yarvon Zee buy drugs, in order to leave them outside his son's residence thus proving both his case and innocence. The only issue was that Yarvon Zee was a lawyer, so using the Felt family money he bought lots of cocaine and left a small amount of it on Felt Jr. 's steps.

In the daytime hours when he wasn’t in jail or eating at his fancy restaurants Mr. Felt drove around with his dark elder shades on. In a big top of the line electric SUV watching where his son lived by driving around his neighborhood in circles. Mindy was now his favorite; she had never wronged him like his bastard had.

A garbage truck was parked in the middle of the street blocking the view to spy on the apartment complex. It was a filthy roach filled trap house where once bright college minds had gone to fry.

"Beep, Beep, Beep"

Mr. Felt hissed as the large truck backed up blocking him from advancing. He was due in court soon and wanted to stop for fast food first.

"Mr. Felt, is it true you paid your son a 10,000 allowance every month since childhood?" asked the prosecutor.

"Well actually I have uh recently cut that down to five thousand, and even last month I only gave him $2,500" said Mr. Felt, nervous from the stand.

"And these payments let you have a certain leverage over your son. That he must do your bidding or be cut off?" continued the prosecutor.

"No. I'm just an enabler, which has managed to bring more ruin on me than if I was a master manipulator" said Felt looking grouchy and like he was about to cry.

"We have one email here submitted as evidence saying: I will make them pay, those no good local crooks. Help me get them all and punish them just like we always do. This was in an email exchange between Felt and his lawyer" said the prosecutor sternly.

"How did you get that, I thought I had confidentiality here" cried Felt his arms up in the air

"You're up against the Fed" said the prosecutor, smiling.

"Of course, I should have figured, never mind. Well anyway that was all about my local lawsuits years ago which I won and are completely legal" said Felt, slamming his hand on the stand to a harsh look from the bailiff.

"Defense has evidence here stating that his son had a long line of deficiencies mentally that fucked him up" said Felt family lawyer number 2 who was Amy dressed in a smart white suit as the process continued.

"Roger," said the Judge.

"Yes, Roger Felt, the son, needed his father's money or he would be homeless," said the defender.

"That's bad?" said the Judge.

"Yes Sir, our first piece of evidence are social media posts from Roger listing off his various mental illnesses" said Yarvon Zee rushing to the stand with lots of papers in his hands.

"Very well" said the Judge, accepting them into evidence.

"Wait a second we have more evidence directly from L.O.O.G.," said the prosecution.

"Who?" Asked the judge.

"The League of outside gentlemen is a high society, and even higher-minded based group that Felt was once accepting into. Of course, this was before they learned about his crimes" , said a prosecutor.

"Uh huh sounds like a frat, and what do they have to do with this case?" Asked the judge.

"They have given us the smoking gun, proving the Felt family together masterminded a plot that led directly to murder" said the prosecutor bringing in evidence. It was a phone video recording:

"Yes now that we control Pinkers private police force we can crush the locals from the grounds or to our PR campaigns online, and even funding a spot at the fairs, flea and farmers markets all over the state. Of course if they trespass I have given them license to kill" said Felt

"Crush them?" said another member of L.O.O.G as the call cut to him behind a fancy desk, a bulky safe was open in the background full of gold bricks "Those are my neighbors".

"I agree, why the virulence, why the hate?" croaked another before the video call shuttered to another.

"Here we see all our property they have burned, but we will rebuild with our funds and then buy up all their lots, and kick them out" yelled Felt as his huge black cat ran from the room.

"Objection I was using hyperbole" screamed Mr. Felt his face red with rage.

"Shut up" said the judge slamming down his gavel.

"We have hours of this we need to get through but we are submitting this all together now" said a prosecutor holding a tablet that had played it.

"Very well, I'm sure it's all very damning, as a package" said the judge.

“You do not have to like Mr. Felt. In fact one can hate his guts and still come to the realization that he is innocent” said the Felt family lawyer stepping out of his car.

"Well he does have some serious crimes against him, any chance at taking a plea deal obviously it's probably too early to say but is it still something on the cards that you are seriously looking at and considering?" asked the reporter.

"Uh yeah, no comment on that one" said Yarvon Zee heading into a pizza place to get pizza and breadsticks.

It had been a tough week in court and the next one would be tougher. The case had attracted national media attention as the Felt family had previously been a minor laughingstock with their shenanigans, including all of his son's online activities shamelessly looking for attention the father did not provide, but the latest federal trials had them in the major leagues. With all this considered Zee’s responsibilities had significantly grown from before when he was maybe doing a few rounds of dry cleaning or the laundromat for extra pay, but now he was getting all the food where the delivery driver left it carrying it inside from the curb, unpacking it and even having to feed, and walk all the family animals while the Felts were in prison. All this was also in effect on days off prison because none of them could be seen or harassed out in public.

The case also had to be considered that his client was guilty, and with how good the prosecutors were at court it was a losing battle if it ever went that far. It most certainly was never going to go that far. They wanted a plea deal in exchange for something, something that Felt knew and could probably testify about the plot that had burned up a bunch of Loony Maine. His client probably did know it, but most likely only subconsciously as he was a very self absorbed man and tended to be so caught up in himself he often didn’t ever see what flew past his own face.

“Name?” said a pizza guy beyond the counter after the line had moved.

“Oh me, uh yes 5 pizzas for Brad Yuppy” said Yarvon Zee.

The stack of pizzas was coming out from the back. Steam was coming out from the boxes, and the employee carrying them looked very tired.

“Here yah go, that'll be $50” said the pizza guy using a flimsy looking tablet register to complete the transaction which took place in cash.

The lawyer excited the drab chain establishment, looking twice both ways to make sure no more press was waiting in the parking lot. It was kind of a useless habit because most reporters had gotten pretty good at hiding in annoying spots, and he still had to keep moving while the meal was still hot. He got in the car with the pizza tucking it into the passenger seat and buckling it in. It was going to be a long bumpy ride to jail in order to feed the ever hungry Felt family that he served.

“FBI freeze” came from all around the car.

“Great” said the lawyer out loud rolling down his window with “how can I help you gentlemen today I'm a lawyer I'm sure you all know that”.

The passenger door opened revealing hungry FBI agents drooling when their eyes hit the pizza.

“We've been monitoring you, and this pizza place all day. We think they've been sending some kind of secret codes in your pizzas” said an agent as he began to unbuckle the pizza.

"Yeah we need to take it back to our lab for an inspection" said agent number two.

"I don't think so" said Zee squealing his tires as he drove off leaving them all in the dust momentarily.

The agents ran where they had fallen from the moving car. One picked up the single piece of evidence he had managed to retrieve, stuffing three pieces of it that had fallen back inside the cardboard puzzle box. Both agents piled into a car that was waiting to take off in pursuit, but they were too late as a school bus was now blocking the exit onto the highway.

"The Fed has a very big hard on for us" said Zee as he served pizza to prisoners in jail.

"You bet they do, you know I think half the people in here are just plants to gather info, and somehow I trust Jr. even less than I did days before" said Felt while playing spider solitaire in the corner of the yard on his phone.

“Good morning gentlemen” said a prisoner walking by in an orange jumpsuit while filming a jail video with a fancy camera for something online.

Zee checked both ways to make sure nobody was recording behind his shoulder.

“You should never have hired those private guns, the Pinkers” he whispered to his boss.

“That was LOOOOOOG, L.O.O.G I tell you they were responsible, they signed off” the boss convulsed from a fit of rage, and years of poor dieting choices.

“Ok I’ll start digging more into L.O.O.G just as I promised, but that might require me to leave the country for my own safety” said Zee.

“Back to your motherland?” asked Felt.

“Back to Puru first thing tomorrow, yes, we will still have contact around the clock online, do not worry I will be constantly working, and will not leave my family's guarded compound” said the lawyer.

“Very well, you are a big help, stay safe oh and I've even gotten into crypto, can you pay you the same day across the border, in many different coins if you are interested?” said Mr. Felt, seeing him off at the yard's gate.

“I’d rather you just send cash in the mail honestly,” said Zee walking out with big shades and a bandana up to disguise his face.