KEN EADE’S NOVEL, “KILLER.COM,” REFLECTS THE TWO EDGES OF THE INTERNET


The Internet can be a rather wild ride when it permits anonymity and shields third party posters from defamation in the US.
The subject is painful and provokes questions about the viability of unrestrained free speech. On the other hand, even if one is sympathetic with the freedom which the Internet allows- clear thinking is needed because, for some, there have been tragic personal consequences for reputations of persons and businesses being sacrificed for this unlicensed freedom. After writing a novel, Killer.com, about the potential dangers of the Internet, Kenneth Eade reflects more about the implications of Internet freedon in an article called, “The Devil in the Dark Net.

CLICK THE PLAYER TO HEAR AN AUDIO VERSION OF AN EPISODE FROM KILLER.COM

An interesting article in SkyNews explores the dangers and benefits of consumer reviews of businesses. For both individuals and businesses, there is a line drawn by common decency and a line drawn by the Courts? Are these parallel lines or do they diverge at some momentous point. 

EXCERPT FROM KILLER.COM

BRENT MARKS, NOW AN ATTORNEY, HAD A TASTE FOR DEFENDING THE UNDERDOG SINCE HE WAS VERY YOUNG- AND THE FIRST UNDERDOG HE HAD TO DEFEND WAS HIMSELF, MAINLY BECAUSE OF HIS ORIGINAL GIVEN SURNAME, MARQUEZ, THAT MADE HIM A TARGET OF PREJUDICED BULLIES.  HE STOOD MANY OF THEM DOWN, AS ILLUSTRATED BY THIS BIOGRAPHICAL FRAGMENT DESCRIBED IN THIS PROLOGUE TO KILLER.COM.

AFTER SO MANY INCIDENTS OF THIS NATURE, EVENTUALLY COMPELLING HIS FATHER TO CHANGE THEIR LAST NAME, IT EXPLAINS HOW IT BECAME ENGRAINED  IN HIS NATURE TO TACKLE ISSUES OFTEN AFFECTING THE WEAK AND DEFENSELESS. EVEN THOUGH HE WAS A LAWYER, A PROFESSION OFTEN CITED FOR GREED AND SOCIALLY IRRESPONSIBLE FAVORITISM TO THE RICH, BRENT MARKS WAS NOT THAT GRAVELY TEMPTED.

ALTHOUGH NOT DENYING HIMSELF SOME OF THE BENEFITS OF HIS PROFESSION, HE ACTED AS THOUGH HE HAD TAKEN A KIND OF HIPPOCRATIC OATH, SHARING HIS TALENTS WITH CASES THAT WOULD HELP HIS CLIENTS AT THE EXPENSE OF HIS FINANCIAL WELL-BEING, INNER PEACE AND EVEN LIFE ITSELF.

The boys lined up in six squads of seven, dressed in the tomato-red shorts and bleached white shirts of their Hale Jr. High School gym uniforms. It was a bright southern California day, the sun blazing high above the field where the boys were in line. Each squad had a leader who answered to Coach Vince Nieman, who was nothing more than a grown-up boy himself: a has-been, first string high school football player who used to be good enough to land himself a spot on the bench in exchange for a college football scholarship. Now he wasn’t good enough for anything but teaching P.E. Brent’s squad leader was a C- student named Russ Carlton, a bulky, red-haired, freckle-faced bully whom, even in middle school, every one of his teachers would have voted as most likely to become a criminal – that is, except for Coach Nieman, who found his brawn useful for crowd control.

Brent hung his head down and filed in. He hated P.E. and made no secret about it.

“You’re a fag, Marquez!” Russ Carlton spouted.

“A dickless fag!” chimed in another.

“You’re a dickless fag who sucks dick!” Now there was a chorus.

“Do it, Steinman!” Russ commanded.

“That was the cue for Gary Steinman, a skinny, pathetic-looking kid with a generous brown bush of frizzy, crumpled hair, to fall in line behind Brent. With both hands he grabbed the waistband of Brent’s shorts and underwear and pulled down with all his strength, until they were dangling around Brent’s ankles. Gary’s efforts were rewarded by a cacophony of belly laughter from everyone.

As Brent pulled up his shorts and began to run away, Russ affirmed to the group: “See, I told you he was a fag!”

“Yeah, what a pussy!” exclaimed Gary.

Brent ran past Coach Nieman and into the locker room.

“Where do you think you’re going, Marquez?” asked the Coach. Brent ignored him. Then he turned to Russ. “Carlton, go get Marquez and bring him back out here.”

“Come on, Steinman,” commanded Russ as he ran after Brent into the locker room. Steinman followed him like a trained dog.

Brent spun the lock on his gym locker and opened it. The locker room smelled: a combination of the stench of armpits, sweaty balls, and dirty stale socks. He was just putting a leg into his jeans when the two arrived.

“Suit up, Marquez. Coach wants you back out there.”

Brent pretended not to hear Russ and kept putting on his street clothes.

“What are you, deaf, faggot?” asked Steinman.

“I heard you. I’m not going.”

“Get him, Steinman,” Russ said as he shoved Gary Steinman into Brent, slamming Brent’s back against the locker. Like a cobra, Brent came back at Steinman, grabbing his left arm, which he twisted behind his back, and applying pressure upward, causing Steinman to wince as he turned and smashed his nose against the locker door.

“Who’s the faggot now, Steinman?” Brent bellowed into his ear.

“Let him go, Marquez, or I’ll fuck you up,” threatened Russ Carlton. Brent ignored Carlton and kept up the pressure.

“What’s going on here?” Coach Nieman’s voice boomed through the locker room. Brent wouldn’t let go. He pushed harder on Steinman’s arm until he thought it would break and ground his face into the locker. Steinman’s wire-rimmed glasses bent at the nose, fell off, and hit the filthy locker room floor.

“No fighting, Marquez. Let him go, now!” barked Nieman. Brent let go of Steinman and gave him a push to the floor. “You two: back outside. Marquez: to the VP’s office, on the double!”

“This isn’t over, faggot!” said Russ, walking backwards and pointing at Brent threateningly.

That was the cue for Gary Steinman, a skinny, pathetic-looking kid with a generous brown bush of frizzy, crumpled hair, to fall in line behind Brent. With both hands he grabbed the waistband of Brent’s shorts and underwear and pulled down with all his strength, until they were dangling around Brent’s ankles. Gary’s efforts were rewarded by a cacophony of belly laughter from everyone. As Brent pulled up his shorts and began to run away, Russ affirmed to the group: “See, I told you he was a fag!” “Yeah, what a pussy!” exclaimed Gary.

Eade, Kenneth (2015-09-22). Legal Thriller: Killer.com: Winner of Best Legal Thriller, Beverly Hills Book Awards (Brent Marks Legal Thriller Series 5) (Kindle Locations 52-86). Times Square Publishing. Kindle Edition.

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Ken Eade at Desk

KEN EADE- ALWAYS THINKING, DAYDREAMING, STRATEGIZING-
-HOW TO CREATE HIS NEXT SUPER SUSPENSE THRILLER-
TRUST HIM. HE WILL NEVER STOP!!!

 

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