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Thaddeus Duke · (03-04-2021)

Westbrook Probate Court || Westbrook, Connecticut

I’m not myself and I know it. Those things still fighting a war within me, still rage. I’ve mostly been distant with Elizabeth. I know why too, but I just can’t bring myself to say that out loud- to her or to myself. Frankie has always been my shadow and that hasn’t changed. We get along as well as we ever have. Probably even more so than we had now that he stopped coming on the road with me. He was never one to really enjoy flying much and the ordeal on Illuminatus Two has pretty much put a halt to his flying days. I miss him when I’m gone, but I get it. I won’t force that issue because the last thing that I really want to do is to make him relive that nightmare before he’s ready to face it.

In due time, and on his terms only.

I have been staying a lot in New York at the penthouse. Frankie comes with me when I go there. Liz? Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn’t. Mostly doesn’t. On the face of it all, I should be on top of the world. I have a great woman by my side. Frankie is about to legally become my son. I have two other babies coming later this year, and I literally have the best friends anyone could possibly want…

But…

I have this false facade of being “put together” and I know that too. I think, at least for the most part, I am pretty well together. Yet I can feel the wheels coming off and its like all this “together” is being held in place by Dollar Tree duct tape. It might do the job for a bit, but sooner or later it breaks and everything just falls out of place.

I can feel it inside.

I can see it when I look in the mirror.

But I don’t know how to stop it.

Frankie, Liz and I, all dressed in our best suits, sit in my Land Rover in the parking lot across the street from the courthouse. My attorney thinks Frankie’s adoption will be granted today by Judge Lightoller. I have a predisposition to think the worst when events occur within my world that I really want, but yet have no control over. Elizabeth of course, does her best to reassure me that our appearance in the courtroom today is nothing more than a formality and at long last, Frankie stops wearing the name Rickle and legally becomes Francis Robert Duke… or whatever name he chooses.

Really, the only time I think negatively is when something good is about to happen. Frankie legally becoming my son is a good thing so clearly, I’m thinking nothing good will happen today.

”You ready boys?” Liz asks.

”No,” I answer with a forced smile.

”What do you mean ‘no’?” Frankie asks from the backseat.

”I’m just really nervous kiddo,” I answer him honestly. A lot of parents lie to their kids in order to spare feelings or because they feel their kids don’t need to know truths. I’m not that way. I have always been honest with Frankie from the day we met all those months ago in his fathers apartment. He knew my real name before anyone else and I had just met him. He’s a child, yes. At the same time, I think being open and honest about things, even adult things, that he won’t hesitate to come to me and also be honest and open. I want him to be able to trust me and to know that there’s nothing he could ever do or say to me that I won’t respect.

”You don’t think they’ll let you be my dad?” he asks nervously as he pokes his head between the two front seats.

”No, I don’t really know bud,” I reply, trying to figure out how to put this into a perspective a ten year old would understand. ”Frankie, you know how when you really want something and you ask for it and you’re afraid I’m gonna say no?”

”Like the dirtbike?”

”Yeah exactly,” I answer him. ”That’s how I’m feeling. I want to legally be your dad kiddo and I’m scared to death that the judge will say no.”

”If he does, he’s stupid,” Frankie retorts, causing me to chuckle. ”Even if he does, I’m not gonna go anywhere, Thad. I love being with you.”

”I love you being with me, now don’t make me cry before we go in.”

”It’s time,” Liz interrupts as she swings open her door. Frankie and I follow her lead. ”Are my two beautiful boys ready to legally become father and son?” she asks as Frankie grabs my arm and tries to climb me as per usual.

”Shoulders, kid,” I inform him as he monkey’s his way up to my shoulders.

”Liz, boys are handsome, not beautiful,” he replies to her.

”Wrong!” I shout out facetiously. ”You’re a beautiful boy and so am I.”

”Ugggh,” he grunts as he lays his head on top of mine. I can only imagine he rolled his eyes too.

”What?” I ask of him as we reach the front doors to the courthouse.

”Sometimes, I think you love yourself too much,” Frankie fires back, causing Liz to laugh her ass off.

”You little jerk!” I shout out, feigning anger. ”You really don’t want to live to see 11 do you?” He only laughs.

A few minutes later, I’m in the courtroom face to face with Percival Fletcher, my attorney for this case and he’s all smiles. His demeanor puts me at ease and at long last, this gut wrenching saga will have a final and happy ending.

”All rise!” shouts the Bailiff. Those in attendance today do as instructed. ”The Westbrook Probate Court of the State of Connecticut is now in session. The Honorable Judge Frederick Lightoller presiding.

“Your Honor,” he says as he hands the docket to Judge Lightoller. ”Case number 0437937, a petition for adoption of one Francis Robert Rickle originally of New York to Thaddeus Leander Duke the Second of Connecticut.”

”Be seated,” the Judge instructs and like sheep, we all follow. He quickly glances over the pages in front of him before laying them down. ”This seems a rather pedestrian case, this shouldn’t take long.”

My attorney smiles and pats me on the shoulder. The beads of sweat that were rolling off my forehead moments ago now seem to be cooling.

”Counselor, is your client prepared to make a statement today?”

”He is Your Honor,” Fletcher replies.

”And no one from this young mans natural family has stepped forward to claim parental rights?”

”No, Your Honor. Not a one.”

”...shame,” he muses aloud. ”The boys mother is deceased and the father is incarcerated?”

”Yes Your Honor,” Fletcher answers. ”Frankie’s mother was killed by his father Keith Rickle who has voluntarily signed over his parental rights and consents to this adoption.”

A staffer enters from the Judge’s chambers and whispers something to the judge before disappearing from whence she came.

”My apologies, we’re going to take a fifteen minute recess,” he says as he starts to get up, causing a bit of commotion and confusion from the onlookers and myself. Everyone, really. ”Bailiff, have the Counselor meet me in my Chambers in five minutes.”

”What the hell is going on?” I ask urgently, but quietly as the Judge makes his exit.

”I really don’t know,” he replies. ”I’ll let you know after I’ve seen him.”

”Thad?” Frankie interrupts as he tugs on my left arm. I look down at him. ”What’s going on?”

”Buddy, I don’t know. Maybe he has to pee or something.”

Frankie looks at the Chamber door and back at me. ”Okay, I get why you get annoyed when I have to pee so much now.” I laugh lightly and turn to my attorney, who is no longer here.

”Baby,” Liz says as she leans over the railing and wraps her arms around my neck and kisses the side of my head. ”Just keep cool, okay? It’s probably nothing.”

”It doesn’t feel like nothing,” I reply, my face turning red, the tips of my ears burning. ”Take Frankie and get a drink of water or something, would you?”

”Sure. C’mon baby boy, let’s go get something to drink real quick.”

Alone with my thoughts, despite the noise and commotion within this courtroom at the moment, everything seems deathly quiet. Somehow some way, I feel my world collapsing on top of me. At the start of this, despite my typical nervousness, once Judge Lightoller appeared, I felt good. I felt like this was the one thing I could do right despite me not really having any control over it whatsoever.

Yet here we are. Just minutes later and everything is crumbling. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I hesitate to retrieve it thinking it’s probably just Liz. Of course, I pull it out because me being in my own head is no place I want to be. Especially now.

’Alister Henry’ Said:Check. Your move, Jaime.

At once I feel the rage burning within me. If Alister was here right now at this very second, I’d be going to prison for murder. It’s one thing for him to fuck with me or fuck with Liz. I did steal his wife… but it’s another thing entirely to mess with my kid.

’I’ Said:
bring my Audi to the courthouse

’Linc’ Said:Okay…….?

’I’ Said:
Just do it… tell you later

Liz and Frankie return just as I slide my phone back into my pocket. Frankie jumps into my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck, his knee landing somewhere it shouldn’t. He’s good at that- accidental pinpoint accuracy. For the moment, I ignore the searing pain radiating from my groin to my lower back and just enjoy the hug from my best little buddy. He’s ten now. It won’t be long before he’s too cool to hug me. To be honest, he’s too big to be climbing up onto my shoulders but those days are winding down too. I’ll enjoy it while I can. Who knows if I’ll ever have the chance to do that again?

”Thad?” he whispers, his arms still wrapped around me as Percival Fletcher emerges from the judges chambers. His own face beet red.

”Yeah Bub?”

”I love you,” he says as he squeezes just a little tighter and the dam breaks. The brave facade crumbled with a simple three word phrase uttered by a ten year old boy.

”More than anything,” I reply to him through stifled emotion.

Judge Lightoller emerges from his chambers and the Bailiff gives his instructions once more. I turn to my attorney as we retake our seats.

”He has your arrest records,” he informs me. ”They came in anonymously just after he took to the bench.”

Okay, that’s not so bad. I can deal with that.

”Mr. Duke,” the judge says as he looks over what I assume is my police report from Roswell, New Mexico. ”I apologize for the delay and the unscheduled recess, but something came to our attention very late and I thought it best to speak with your counsel about it before we proceeded any further with today’s events.

“I’ll admit that, it causes me deep concern with such a recent arrest for assaulting a police officer. Now, I’m not going to make my judgment solely on your arrest, but young man, I’d like to hear your version of events.

“So if you don’t mind, tell the court what happened and how you found yourself behind bars in Roswell, New Mexico.”

I stand up slowly, nervously. ”Your Honor,” I begin, my voice cracks slightly causing me to clear my throat. ”Your Honor, it was a wrestling event.”

I stammer, frozen with how to explain away beating up a police officer with his own nightstick while my fans chanted “fuck the blue” behind me. Duke Nation can get rather rabid.

”Go on...” he urges.

”Sir… excuse me… Your Honor. In my profession, assault is legal… encouraged even...”

”On police officers?”

”No, what I’m trying to say is it was the heat of the moment. I was just returning from an injury and I was beating the… crap… out of the guy that took me out in the first place. It was perfectly legal and within the parameters of the business I am in, Your Honor.

“The police officer in question, hit me first with his nightstick and I was so angered by that that I was defending myself.”

”So you would have me believe that hitting an officer of the law 31 times with his own nightstick was self defense?”

I doesn’t sound so justifiable the way he says it.

”Yes Your Honor.”

”Would you classify that as an isolated incident? Meaning you’ve never been in trouble with any other law enforcement agencies here at home or abroad when you’re working?”

”I would.”

Judge Lightoller leans back in his big chair and rips his eyeglasses off his face before tossing them on the table in front of him.

”This was supposed to be an easy case, Mr. Duke. I was fully prepared to grant this adoption today, do you understand that?”

”Yes sir.” ‘Was,’ he said. My heart sinks.

”I gave you an opportunity before this court to explain yourself and your transgressions as it pertains to violence. Do you feel like you have told me everything there is to tell?”

Huh?

”Yes Your Honor, I do.”

He sits quietly for a moment.

”Mr. Duke in good conscience, I can not approve this adoption today. While this court feels that you are adequate enough to take on the role of this boys father, it would be remiss to allow it to happen without further investigation.

“The court appreciates your views on the Roswell incident but it can not forgive your lack of judgment in ignoring your run in with the police at a night club in Pittsburgh.”

Pittsburgh? What the fuck is he talking about!?

”Wait!”

”Mr. Duke, while I can respect the fact that you are used to being waited on hand and foot in your everyday life, you do not give me orders. This is my courtroom…”

”I didn’t lie about Pittsburgh, Your Honor! I just forgot!”

SLAM! Goes the gavel.

”Sit, Mr. Duke!”

”Bullshit! I’m not sitting! You’re not fucking listening!”

SLAM! Goes the gavel again as Fletcher tries to urge me to sit.

”Bailiff, fine Mr. Duke in contempt of court.”

”Fuck your stupid fine, you’re not listening to me! Let me tell you about Pittsburgh!”

”Bailiff, fine Mr. Duke again for contempt of court.”

Percival Fletcher grabs my right arm and Frankie grabs my left. Frankie’s urging is what gets me to retake my seat and shut the hell up.

”The court is hereby ordering a course in anger management for you Mr. Duke. Upon completion of said course, we will revisit this matter. Until such time, Francis Robert Rickle will be remanded to the Connecticut Department of Children and Families...”

”No, absolutely the fuck not!” I stand, kicking my chair out from beneath me. Seething with rage I quickly imagine what I might do if I could physically reach this judge.

”Bailiff, take Mr. Duke into custody for twenty-four hours.”

”I don’t care what you do to me! You’re only hurting him,” I yell to the judge as I point to Frankie. ”I was never arrested in Pittsburgh! My girlfriend at the time,” I try to explain as the Bailiff and a few of his close friends slam me against the table and cuff me.

SLAM! Goes the gavel.

”Thad!” Frankie shouts through tears as representatives from DCF approach him. He bolts from his chair and grapevines his legs around mine, grips my thighs as tight as he can.

”Stay brave buddy. I love you, we’ll get this figured out, I promise. I’ll never let you down, Frankie.”

Returning my attention to the judge as police and DCF try and pry Frankie from my leg. ”She was groped, Your Honor, I was defending her! No charges were ever filed and I was never in trouble! There was nothing to tell you!”

”Get off me!” Frankie shouts through tears.

”You hurt him,” I begin saying to the officer prying Frankie from me. ”I swear to it, you’ll regret ever coming to work today.”

The man relents a moment.

”Frankie honey,” Liz tries to reason through her own tears. ”Let go baby, this out of our control.”

”You have to go with them,” I say with tears rolling down my face. My face itself burning with rage.

He releases his grip and DCF takes him from the courtroom. Still pinned against the table, I focus on Judge Lightoller. If looks could kill, that man would be dead a thousand times over. Struggling now does nothing. Shouting more profanities at him does nothing, except give me an extra day in the slammer. I allow them to lead my away, not once taking my eyes from Lightoller until...

Click.

The door to the courtroom is shut and I’m under arrest.

Again.

Why do cowards exist in this industry? We get paid boat loads of money to travel the world and put on performances in front of people that pay their own hard earned money to come see us. People will think what they want to think about why, when and how I did what I did a couple weeks back on Warfare to Big D. People have gone so far as to say what I did was cowardly because Big Dan just got his ass handed to him by Chris Page and that was followed up by an ass kicking from Them No Good Bastards.

The criticism is fair, I’ll never deny it.

What happens though, when the moment I shed the mask and revealed my true self, Big Daniel is out there dragging my name through the mud? What happens when every time I turn around, my name is falling from his disgusting freakin’ mouth? What happens when he claimed to retire me when the truth of the matter is that I was fired for being an unreasonable asshole? What happens when I warn him to stop but he still persists? Am I just supposed to take it? Am I supposed to go the XWF website and send him a strongly worded sassy email like I’m Nancy god damn Pelosi?

Cowards don’t stand up.

Cowards don’t accept straight up challenges.

Cowards make a million excuses as to why they can’t rather than giving you the one reason they can: because it’s what they’re paid to do- compete.

So rather than jump through hoops and wading through a dozen challenges and follow up denials and excuses, I did what I thought I had to do. I made him my bitch. On world wide television. In front of millions of viewers. It got me what I wanted and I’ll be damned if Big D didn’t weasel out of it anyway.

Freakin’ countout.

Thad scoffs.

You know the old tired cliché that says it’s not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog? I’m a much smaller guy than a lot of guys that step foot into this industry. But there’s something that I have that just can’t be measured.

Heart.

Whether I wear gold around my waist or not, there isn’t a man or woman that has ever stood across from me and whether I won or they did, didn’t think to themselves- god damn that kid can fight. I do have the heart of a champion. From bell to bell whoever the hell stands across from me is in for the fight of their life and while I do not have a spotless record, and no one does, I pride myself on being the best match on the card night in and night out. I pride myself on the fact that if you’re gonna beat me, you’re gonna think to yourself: god damn, that is the hardest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever done. Professionally speaking, of course.

Big D has no balls.

Big D has no pride.

Big D has no discernible skills and lived the last year and a half with his one and only claim to fame, besides creating a fake world title for himself, was a fluke win over me when I was not myself… that’s not an excuse, it’s just cold hard fact… and he didn’t have the skill to truly beat me then and he knew it. He doesn’t have the skill to beat me now and he knows that too. So rather than defend the things he’s let fall from his crusty lips for the last 18 months, he walked out on me, he walked out on the Universe and he walked out on the Xtreme Wrestling Federation.

That is the definition of cowardice.

I’d start beating the drum now over the fact that Big D was too scared to face me like a man so he’d rather just up and quit on everyone including himself, but let’s face it. Let’s call a spade a spade for a moment and I’ll go on record by saying that in a few months, no one will have remembered Big D was ever here. That’s the legacy he leaves behind.

Absolutely.

Nothing.

The next victim on the 2021 Thad Is The Shit Tour is a man I have a little familiarity with in Shawn Wylde. I liked him when we squared off a couple months ago and I still do. He’s coming along slowly but not everyone is gifted with the undying heart of a lion like yours truly. That isn’t a shot, again, I like Shawn. I’ve seen and felt some of the things he can do in the ring first hand and he’s only getting better as time goes on.

Two months ago people would look at him and say well he’s got talent, let’s see if he can get it together. He’s amassed a win or two in the last couple months and even finds himself advancing in the March Madness tournament.

This is the part where I’m supposed to mock him for not being better than he is, but I’m not gonna do that. I think the man has a particular athleticism that parallels my own, more on that in a minute. Why I’m not gonna mock him is because this particular roster is better than maybe it’s ever been and while he hasn’t got it all figured out, I know the man works hard at his craft and sooner or later, his victories will outweigh his failures more and more. His victories will get bigger. His star will rise. Accolades will be achieved.

So here’s what I’m gonna do for Shawn Wylde. He’s just not on my level and really that goes without saying. That isn’t a shot either, even if it does sounds like it is. I was born into and for this business so comparing star power would be unfair and the ability to play this game of chess is natural to me. Second nature. It would be unfair to criticize him for not having the same legs up into the industry that I had. Why I’m even saying this is to drive home the point that I’m going to do for Shawn Wylde what I’ve done for countless others: make him look like a million fuckin’ bucks simply because I can.

Barney Green.

Chris Chaos.

Shawn himself, once already in that tag match.

Jenny Myst.

Bearded War Pig.

Mastermind.

Gage Gannon.

The list goes on. All of them, I have made look like the second coming of wrestling jesus and Shawn Wylde… my friend… you’re about the only person on this roster not named Corey Smith that can hold a candle to my god given natural athletic ability. What that means for you is: you get to have the absolute best match of your life and I promise you Shawn, after I beat your ass for three, I won’t even make you thank me.

I do this as a service.

You get to face me one on one for the very first time and you’re about to find out just why Warfare is the House That Duke Built.

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