"Isaac Lee"
September 25, 1982-Atlantic City, NJ-near City Hall- 4:36 P.M.
Raindrops pelt the pavement steps outside the Atlantic City Court House as umbrella-covered reporters angle to get closer to a podium adorned with microphones. When District Attorney Schuberman emerges, he’s greeted by chaos and flashing light. His assistant, Isaac Lee makes a tactful exit, skipping down the stairs of a side exit with a newspaper over his head. He’s relieved that the case is over, but paranoid that the Don may kill him for it. Halfway to the parking garage, under the hiss of the rain, he notices the sound of footsteps behind him. Isaac quickly turns down an alleyway and listens for the footfalls. They sound like the steps of a giant wearing flip-flops.
The path leading up to this alley beside the court house is muddled at best. This may be due to the fact that the current Bruno mob isn’t really one for records or history at all for that matter. But it is known that Isaac grew up in Upton Orphanage, a known front for a notorious numbers racket. Like most of his friends/brothers/coworkers, he ran messages all over town during the day, semi-oblivious to what he was actually doing. In a few years however, Isaac was not too surprised or displeased to be talking with an intimidating man in a fedora about doing some “real” work for Don Angelo. What he did or didn’t do after this is point unclear for a few years, but it is known that he left the orphanage and that the Don developed a strong fondness for “Ike” and groomed him as the organization’s lawyer. Graduating in 1980 from Atlantic Union Law School, he was on the road to becoming the new consigliore to Don Angelo when something happened. He found out why he grew up in an orphanage instead of having a normal happy family. Isaac discovered in dusty folders evidence that the Upton Orphanage was especially reserved for children whose parents were killed by the Bruno family. It was the Don’s way of cultivating an army of alienated youth, and Isaac was one of them. The paperwork detailed the lineage and method of death of hundreds of people, meticulous as a Nazi tally sheet. Above Isaac’s name were his parent’s as well as the word “shot.” He took the folder and his anger to newly elected District Attorney Schuberman who was thirsty for evidence against the “The Docile Don.” Isaac accepted a temporary position of assistant, but refused police protection or to testify against his former boss/surrogate father. All he wanted was to close the orphanage for good, but the case became larger and larger, gaining nationwide notoriety. For a year, he lived anonymously in a crappy motel and every time he heard his name on the news, he felt a noose tighten.
Now with the case over, the orphanage closed and the Don imprisoned, in that grimy alleyway with rain soaking his grey trench coat to black, Isaac can still hear the strange steps coming closer. He retreats to the bricked dead end wall and hides behind a filthy trashcan, more terrified by the weird sound the footsteps make than anything else. When the steps finally stop, Isaac is more interested in the sound than afraid for his life and suddenly identifies it: a person wearing flippers walking along side a pool. He’s congratulating himself in his head when he hears his name, snapping him back to the present.
“I said stand up Isaac.”
He tells himself to go out like a man, but when he stands up, what he sees is so unexpected, so out-of-the-blue and so outrageous, he faints like a little girl. A few minutes later, the same astonishing thing is slapping his face. It’s a clown. A clown wearing an oversized foam, orange cowboy hat is worriedly slapping his face and telling him to get up. Isaac can’t help but stare at the giant red shoes as rain runs off the brim of the ridiculous hat and onto his face. The water has made the clown’s face paint run off a little, revealing a surprisingly sad old man underneath. Isaac brushes off the fool, struggles to his feet and turns on lawyer-mode.
“Who are you and what do you want?”
“Do you need any help?”
“No. Now answer my question.”
“OK I’ll be going then.” The old man starts away.
Isaac knows when someone’s hiding something. “Stop! You’re not going anywhere!”
“Neither one of you is.”
This is an unidentified third voice coming from outside the alley. As two tall, sharp featured men in thousand dollar suits step into view, the clown and Isaac exchange glances, the owner of the voice no longer unknown. They stare back at the approaching men, at their hands slowly reaching into their jackets, at how even the raindrops seem to avoid touching them. To Isaac’s amazement, the clown quickly pulls out a gun from his huge pants, nothing funny or silly about it. To his even greater amazement, the clown says words he never expected to hear anyone say to him:
“Listen Isaac, I’m your dad.”
Further information on Isaac and his father’s fate could be a bit tough to find. You’ll need to go down to the Atlantic City Police Department’s Organized Crime Unit and ask Gina to show you all the files they have on Angelo Bruno, A.K.A. “The Docile Don.” You’ll need a court order to gain access, but it’ll be worth it because these files contain all the reports about crimes the Bruno Mafia was suspected to be responsible for but were never prosecuted for. If you find a file covering the murder of Isaac Lee, you’ll know he was in fact killed by the gunmen. So if you don’t find the file, it could mean he and his father somehow escaped and lived happily ever after. Then again, the folder could have just been lost or misplaced by Gina, who’s a bit scatterbrained at times.
