Ask the Author: Elliott Light
Answered Questions (4)
Elliott Light
The Target Letter
The abyss. Freedom versus imprisonment. A man of high moral character or a felon, deprived of the right to vote, the ability to practice law, a man permanently labeled a criminal.
The target letter arrived from the Justice Department while I was on vacation. I didn’t know what a target letter was, but I quickly learned that it was a ticket into the dark side of the legal system.
I had been assigned as the lead attorney on a project I didn’t want and was not suited for. The details would cure insomnia, but the gist of the task was to capture large amounts of money that would otherwise have to be reimbursed to the government. I was introduced to the project by the CFO with the following instruction: “If you value your job, you will get all the effing money.”
The company wanted the money. The government wanted the money. To make things worse, the media was chasing contractor fraud and cost overruns. A powerful Congressman wanted someone to be punished, preferably a lawyer.
The rules that govern government contractors are a byzantine maze of FARS and DARS and other brain numbing acronyms. This is the turf of experts. I did the only thing I could. I asked those in the company who knew the regulations how the DoD handled disputes over money. I found a way to keep a small amount of the money, but warned that keeping all the money was not possible. And then I took a new job and left the company.
A leaked memo, a newspaper column, and the witch hunt began.
With the target letter in hand, I hired an attorney. We discussed the prospect of a 75 year prison term, but that a plea bargain would probably reduce that to 5 years, with time off for good behavior. If indicted, I had a 95% chance of being convicted.
Before getting to fictionalizing this experience, I need to add a few more details. First, the company experts I spoke with either denied having conversations with me about the project or denied giving me advice. To add a little intrigue (this sounds like fiction but isn’t) the attorney assigned to prosecute the fraud allegations allegedly had been censored a number of times for falsifying evidence.
I used elements of this experience in the Shep Harrington SmallTown® Mystery series. Shep, my protagonist, went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit, but was released three years later. (You can read more about Shep in my blog entry of March1, 2017.)
The various plot lines almost jump out at you –
• Why is a trusting, somewhat naïve attorney chosen over more skilled lawyers?
• Why does the company agree to cooperate with the government in prosecuting the attorney? Is he being sacrificed to avoid a deeper investigation into its financial practices?
• What compels all of the attorney’s colleagues to betray him?
• Does the prosecutor play fair?
• Does the attorney strike back?
• Will a colleague come forward with information, only to die mysteriously?
The target letter changed my life. It opened my eyes to a justice system that does not always seek the truth. Once trust is lost, it is very difficult to recapture.
The abyss. Freedom versus imprisonment. A man of high moral character or a felon, deprived of the right to vote, the ability to practice law, a man permanently labeled a criminal.
The target letter arrived from the Justice Department while I was on vacation. I didn’t know what a target letter was, but I quickly learned that it was a ticket into the dark side of the legal system.
I had been assigned as the lead attorney on a project I didn’t want and was not suited for. The details would cure insomnia, but the gist of the task was to capture large amounts of money that would otherwise have to be reimbursed to the government. I was introduced to the project by the CFO with the following instruction: “If you value your job, you will get all the effing money.”
The company wanted the money. The government wanted the money. To make things worse, the media was chasing contractor fraud and cost overruns. A powerful Congressman wanted someone to be punished, preferably a lawyer.
The rules that govern government contractors are a byzantine maze of FARS and DARS and other brain numbing acronyms. This is the turf of experts. I did the only thing I could. I asked those in the company who knew the regulations how the DoD handled disputes over money. I found a way to keep a small amount of the money, but warned that keeping all the money was not possible. And then I took a new job and left the company.
A leaked memo, a newspaper column, and the witch hunt began.
With the target letter in hand, I hired an attorney. We discussed the prospect of a 75 year prison term, but that a plea bargain would probably reduce that to 5 years, with time off for good behavior. If indicted, I had a 95% chance of being convicted.
Before getting to fictionalizing this experience, I need to add a few more details. First, the company experts I spoke with either denied having conversations with me about the project or denied giving me advice. To add a little intrigue (this sounds like fiction but isn’t) the attorney assigned to prosecute the fraud allegations allegedly had been censored a number of times for falsifying evidence.
I used elements of this experience in the Shep Harrington SmallTown® Mystery series. Shep, my protagonist, went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit, but was released three years later. (You can read more about Shep in my blog entry of March1, 2017.)
The various plot lines almost jump out at you –
• Why is a trusting, somewhat naïve attorney chosen over more skilled lawyers?
• Why does the company agree to cooperate with the government in prosecuting the attorney? Is he being sacrificed to avoid a deeper investigation into its financial practices?
• What compels all of the attorney’s colleagues to betray him?
• Does the prosecutor play fair?
• Does the attorney strike back?
• Will a colleague come forward with information, only to die mysteriously?
The target letter changed my life. It opened my eyes to a justice system that does not always seek the truth. Once trust is lost, it is very difficult to recapture.
Elliott Light
Writer's block (or white page syndrome, AKA WPS) is a broad term, covering a number of maladies (like sinusitis or frozen shoulder). When the cursor blinks in anticipation of words that are never coming, it's time to have an honest chat with myself. Most of the time, the reason for the blockage is my failure to accept that I'm forcing something - either the characters are rebelling or the situation is contrived or the plot has just collapsed on itself. My solution is to step away, pet the cat, take a breath and wait for the right moment to close my eyes and see the story visually - like a movie. Sometimes the collapse of the plot is permanent, a house of cards that just wasn't meant to be. Writing can be brutal. Most of the time, a character will say something to redirect the narrative and put it back on the right track.
Elliott Light
Imagine that you've written a best seller and you're famous. Do that once or twice and then stop. Writing for fame will not produce your best work. You are a story teller. Imagine the pleasure of fascinating an audience -- no matter how big.
Elliott Light
Like most people, I didn't know what the eugenics movement was. I grew curious about this movement, particularly when I learned that I had relatives who were major contributors to the movement and its practices. The Gene Police was inspired by the suffering that the movement produced.
About Goodreads Q&A
Ask and answer questions about books!
You can pose questions to the Goodreads community with Reader Q&A, or ask your favorite author a question with Ask the Author.
See Featured Authors Answering Questions
Learn more