"Henry Potter…" the detective began, "You're under arrest."
"What?!"
"I said, you're under arrest, Mr. Potter."
"What claptrap is this, you immature neophyte?" Potter was indignant and disgusted. "What do you dare to charge me with?"
"We'll start with grand larceny," the detective replied, "and I think we can also add conspiracy, obstruction of justice, embezzlement, and swearing out a false warrant."
"What false warrant?" Potter was deluding himself, and everyone else in the room knew it. "That man," he continued, pointing at George, "misappropriated eight thousand dollars, and he needs to answer for it!"
"No, sir," the detective said. "If anyone in this room is going to answer for that missing eight thousand dollars, it's going to be you."
Christmas Eve night.
Much of the population of Bedford Falls, New York were still gathered at 320 Sycamore, the home of George and Mary Bailey and their family. Eustace was still sitting at the table barely making a dent in the mountain of money that had been donated by everyone, but he dutifully, yet happily, continued to pick up each green slip of paper, one by one, and enter the denomination on each slip into the oversized mechanical calculator before pulling the crank handle back to register each number in the machine.
Eustace obliviously continued his work as the guests and donors were all starting to make their way home for the night. It was still Christmas Eve, and while they were all more than willing and eager to do something for George, who had gone miles and miles out of his own way to help them in the past, the time had come for them to make their way back home to their respective families before the snow got any worse.
His arm around Mary's shoulder, and all four of their kids- Tommy, Janie, Zuzu and Pete- standing there with him, George stood at the doorway as the last of the guests made their way out. Still overwhelmed by the tremendous outpouring of support from everyone, George couldn't help but slowly shake his head remembering Mary's words:
"It's a miracle, George! It's a miracle!"
There was nothing he could add to it, but more important, there was nothing anyone could take away. Truly and absolutely, it was a miracle, one that George would never forget.
He continued to watch the last of the guests leave, but then his eyes came to rest on another man, standing outside his car and waiting for the last guests to be on their way before he took a look up at George and Mary, and then started to make his own way up the sidewalk to their door.
"George, who's that?" asked Mary.
The man was bundled up against the cold, his coat collar turned up to keep the snow out. George couldn't see the face very well until he got closer.
"Oh, I think it's.. Well, sure, it's Ben Webster, that detective from Waterloo."
"Detective?! I wonder what he's doing here." said Uncle Billy, who joined the brood at the door. Mary then prompted the kids to go on upstairs to their bedrooms as Detective Lieutenant Ben Webster made it up the last step to the front door.
"Evening, Mr. Bailey. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Lieutenant," said George, "But you can call me George."
"Ohh, that's right, I forgot again. Sorry about that," said Webster, "Have you, uhm… Have you got a few minutes?"
"Well, yeah, sure. C'mon in."
"Would you care for some coffee, Mr. Webster?" asked Mary.
"Yes, that would be nice. Thank you, Mrs. Bailey," said Webster, who continued talking as he made his way through the door. "I thought it would be better to wait until everyone else left before I came up to talk to you. I figured right now that the fewer the people that know about this the better."
The four of them sat down at the dining room table as Mary placed a cup of coffee in front the detective. "Besides," he said, "I didn't want to spoil your friends' charity."
"Oh, you've heard?" asked Mary.
"Yeah, we heard about it. Bert filled us in," said Webster before taking a sip of his coffee. "Y'know, I gotta say, you're quite the lucky man, George."
"Yeah, that I am," said George humbly, "I was just reminded of that tonight."
"Well, that's part of the reason why I'm here." said Webster cautiously, "I know it's probably not the best time to speak up about this, but…"
"You're here about that eight grand." George surmised.
"Well, yes," said Webster, "But not for the reason you might be thinking."
"Ohh, well, that's all water under the bridge now, isn't it?" asked Billy, "George is in the good now, thanks to everyone else coming to his rescue."
"Well, yes, George is definitely off of the hook, all right," said Webster, "But the fact remains that there's eight thousand dollars missing that really shouldn't be."
George and Billy both look at the detective, then look at one another. Even now, they cannot fool themselves about that. George speaks up again to his uncle.
"Uncle Billy, are you sure you don't remember what happened to that money?"
Billy starts wracking his brain again.
"Anything you can remember would help, sir." said Webster.
The elder Bailey continued searching and searching his mind files, and this time he finally strikes on something.
"Y'know, I think I do remember now," he began, "Yes. The last time I saw that money was when I was in the bank earlier today. I was about to deposit it."
"Did you talk to anyone in the bank?" asked Webster.
"Well, yes, I did," said Billy, "I talked to Potter." More and more memories were starting to flash in Billy's mind. "Yes! And I think that was the last time I saw that money."
"When you talked to Potter." Webster inferred.
"Yes."
George's eyebrows began to raise. "Uncle Billy, you don't mean that Mr. Potter would…"
"I'm not a hundred percent sure, George," said Billy, "But now that I think about it, anything is possible."
"Oh, well, that's ridiculous," said George, "Potter isn't the kind of person who would stoop that low."
"Are you sure about that?" asked Webster.
George himself started doing some more thinking of his own, and began to recall some of Potter's schemes. The one that stood out the most was when he seized control of the bank and tried to manipulate a run on the Building & Loan. George began to think that maybe there was something in what Webster and Uncle Billy were saying, but he decided it was better not to let on, just yet.
"Well, now that you bring it up, I dunno," George cautiously replied, "Actually, I don't care so much about it now than I did just a few hours ago."
"I'm told that Potter has tried more than once to shut down your Building & Loan." asked Webster.
"Yeah," said George, "He's tried for decades to shut us down, even while my dad was still alive."
"He's right," Billy affirmed, "Seems to me that Potter's only purpose in life was to shut us down so nothing and nobody would be in his way anymore."
"But why would he want to shut down your Building & Loan?" asked Webster.
"Because we're an alternative to the bank for people who want to get out of paying the high rents for Potter's slums." Billy answered.
"Slums?"
"Yeah," said George, "Over in Potter's field. Don't you know about them?"
"I'm afraid not. I don't live in Bedford Falls."
"They're pretty bad," George continued. "I hear even the roaches have to pay rent to live there."
"The roaches are the only ones who can afford it," added Billy, "Potter's made it so that nobody else can."
"Anyway, the B&L is the one big thing in this town that Potter doesn't own, and he can't get ahold of it," said George, "He owns almost everything else in town."
"Mr. Bailey," said Webster to Billy, "Do you think it's possible that somehow you might have accidentally left that money with Potter?"
Billy took a deep breath before answering. "Y'know, the more I think about it, the more I think it is possible." Billy's eyes began to widen as he began to remember even more.
"Great heavenly sunshades!"
"What is it, Uncle Billy?"
"When I ran into Potter in the bank," said Billy, "he had a newspaper in his lap. I took it and unfolded it to show him the headline about Harry on the front page."
"And then, when you folded it back up," Webster added, "you must have accidentally…"
"...accidentally put the envelope with the money inside the newspaper!" Billy added, "Yes! Yes, that's it! I'm sure that's it! And I'd be willing to bet trees to toothpicks that if that's what happened, he probably still has that money."
"There's no way he could get rid of it right now anyway, what with the holiday." said Webster. "And I'm betting that there's no way that he would trust that money with anyone else but himself."
The wheels in the detective's head began spinning faster and harder.
"George," he said, "Is Potter on your board of directors at the Building & Loan?"
"Yeah," said George, "He's a minor shareholder."
Webster stroked his chin for a moment. "One more thing. May I use your phone?"
"Yeah, sure. Help yourself."
Thursday, December 26.
A cold but bright sunrise greets the day after Christmas. Many of the neighborhood kids, including most of the girls with Janie, and even Zuzu now back to her normal self again, decided to stay close to home and try their hands at building snowmen in their front yards. Everything from broom handles and broken tree branches to tattered headwear and scarves, some of Grandpa's old brier pipes, and even lumps of coal- at least the ones that weren't found in someone's stocking, were all in evidence depending on which yard you looked at. Meanwhile, some of the more adventurous ones, Pete and Tommy Bailey among them, decided to hit the hills to break in the new sleds they got for Christmas.
But while all play and no work prevailed with the kids outdoors, there were few smiles, if any, within the walls of the Building & Loan. Billy had called an emergency meeting of the board of directors, and it was an absolute certainty that Potter would be there, just as Webster had planned.
Bert was in his police car closely watching the palatial Potter estate, waiting for the elderly man to be wheeled out and into his waiting limousine. He didn't have to wait long. As soon as the limousine pulled away, he got on his two-way radio.
"Okay, Webster. He's gone."
"Copy that," said Webster over the radio, "Let's move in."
Slowly but surely, the members of the board filed in to the meeting room at the Building & Loan. Most of them did not have a smile on their faces, but one did have a hint of a grin on his face- Mr. Potter. And his grin grew just the slightest bit more when he noticed that George wasn't there.
"All right, gentlemen, I think everyone is here," said the chairman, "This emergency board meeting will come to order. We will dispense with reviewing the minutes from the previous meeting and get right to business."
"Agreed. And it's high time as well."
It was Potter who was the most eager to speak first.
"Gentlemen," said Potter, "I've presented this motion before, and I am convinced that now is the time to make the recommendation once again. In light of the recent turn of events, I again submit that this Building & Loan is irrelevant, and taking into consideration the sudden criminal tendencies of one George Bailey, I again propose that this institution be immediately dissolved, and all of its assets and liabilities be turned over to the receiver."
Billy was seething, but unlike the last time Potter made the motion, he remained quiet. But others in the room were ready to speak up.
"Criminal tendencies? What are you talking about, Potter?" The man who spoke up was Dr. Caminaw.
"I'm talking about that larcenist, George Bailey," charged Potter, "He absconded with eight thousand dollars.
Billy's mind began reeling. "Wait a minute," he thought to himself, "I never told Potter how much money I was going to deposit. How the devil did he know?" But then Billy spoke aloud.
"I'm afraid that missing money is a moot point now."
"What are you talking about?" Potter asked belligerently.
"You mean you don't know?"
"Know what?"
"That we've got the money."
Potter's face began to turn white, but inwardly he refused to believe what he heard. To him it had to be a farce.
"I beg your pardon?" Potter gave Billy a chance to alter his words to say what he wanted to hear. But Billy only repeated the same words.
"I said, we've got the money, Potter."
"Balderdash." bellowed Potter, "Where could you, or George, or any one of you, for that matter, possibly get that kind of money in such a short time?"
"From a certain group of people!"
A voice answered from outside the meeting room, and everyone knew who it was as they all directed their attention to the doorway as George sauntered inside. "I believe you once referred to them as a 'discontented, lazy rabble', Mr. Potter." he said.
"Lazy is as lazy does, Mr. Bailey."
"You call this lazy?" said George as he produced a large bankroll from his coat pocket.
Potter's eyes widened again as he saw the huge bankroll in George's hand.
"Eight thousand dollars." said George, "It's all here, right down to the last red cent. You can count it if you want." George handed the money to the nearest person to where he was standing. The bankroll passed through several more pairs of hands before it finally reached Potter who snatched the bills to look through them. No one spoke a word as Potter almost meticulously examined each and every bill. It was all currency, and it was all valid. Every dime of the eight grand was there, but the incorrigibly mulish Potter still refused to believe it.
"This has got to be some kind of scam. It has to be!" said Potter, "There's no way you could have come up with this money."
"You're right. I didn't."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I just told you where the money came from," George explained, "You called them a 'discontented, lazy rabble'. I call them my friends."
Potter looked again at the bills in his hand, and then back up at George as he continued.
"They're the ones who came to our rescue, Mr. Potter," he said, "They're the ones who raised that money. They raised that and more, a lot more."
"Over forty thousand dollars worth." Billy added, with scattered gasps from others in the room. "And we're still counting."
Potter still refused to believe his ears. In disgust, he threw the bills on the table.
"This doesn't mean a thing," declared Potter, "So help me, George Bailey, come hell or high water, I'm going to see you in jail!"
"Not if the law has anything to say about it!"
Another voice resonated from outside the room. Nobody recognized who it was, but then the detective slowly saunters into the room.
"Who are you?" Potter demanded.
"The name's Webster," he said as he showed his badge, "Detective lieutenant Ben Webster, Seneca County Police Department."
"Well, I'm glad you're here, lieutenant," said Potter, "You're just in time to make an arrest."
"Am I?"
"Yes. That man standing next to you is guilty of misappropriating funds from this Building & Loan, and he needs to be held to answer for it."
Webster decides to play along with Potter for a brief moment. "Ohh, you mean George Bailey here?"
"Precisely, detective. I want him arrested!"
Webster took a deep breath. "I'm afraid that's not going to be possible, Mr. Potter."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said, that's not going to be possible," repeated Webster, "I'm sure the funds that you claim he misappropriated have been accounted for, haven't they?" Webster points to the money which remained where Potter tossed it moments before. "The bank examiner and the sheriff both think so."
Potter gave the money only one more passing glance. "That's beside the point." he said.
"I know different, Mr. Potter." said Webster.
"You mean you believe different, don't you?" said Potter.
"No, sir. I know different." Webster reached into his own coat pocket and produced several folded sheets of paper.
"After talking with a few people, we decided there was probable cause to do this, so we executed a search warrant on your home and on your office at the bank after you left to come here. These warrants were signed by Judge Matthew Kellevin this morning."
Potter was livid. "You have the audacity to search my home and my office?! How dare you!" bellowed Potter. "I haven't done anything illegal!"
"Mr. Potter-"
"That man," he roared, again pointing at George, "stole eight thousand dollars, and I want him arrested!"
"Did you find it?" asked George.
"Yeah," said Webster, "and it didn't take long, either. We found this newspaper…" said Webster as he pulled an old copy of the Bedford Falls Sentinel out of his coat pocket, "...in a drawer in Potter's desk in his office at the bank." Webster hands the envelope to Billy. "Mr. Bailey, would you examine the paper and its contents, please?"
Recognizing the newspaper, Billy eagerly took it and opened it, and out fell an envelope which Billy immediately recognized. He opened it and rifled through the money inside, and even found the deposit slip with his signature, and the date of the intended deposit, December 24th, written in his own handwriting.
"Great day in the morning!"
"Do you recognize the contents, Mr. Bailey?" asked Webster.
"Why, of course I do!" said Billy in happy relief, "It's the money! And it's all here! And- and here's my deposit slip!"
Webster, George, Billy, and everyone else in the room turned to look at Potter in accusation as the blood began to drain from his face.
"I'm sure you have some sort of explanation for this, Mr. Potter?" said Webster.
"I have nothing to say to your guess that that money was ever in my possession!" said Potter.
"It's not a guess, Mr. Potter," said Webster as he took back the envelope waving it in front of him for Potter to see. "As I said, we found this very newspaper, with the envelope of money still inside, hidden in your office. The newspaper itself is dated Christmas Eve. That's when the money turned up missing."
"Yeah, and how did you know that there was eight thousand dollars in that envelope?" asked George.
"If I remember right," said Billy, "I never made any mention to you of the amount of money I was going to deposit."
"And you mentioned eight thousand dollars, more than once." Caminaw added.
"Possession is nine-tenths of the law, Potter." another board member piped up.
Webster had heard enough.
"Henry Potter," he said, "You're under arrest."
"What?!"
"I said, you're under arrest, sir."
"What claptrap is this, you immature neophyte?" Potter was indignant and disgusted. "What do you dare to charge me with?"
"We'll start with grand larceny," Webster replied, "and we can add conspiracy, obstruction of justice, embezzlement, and swearing out a false warrant."
"What false warrant?" Potter was still deluding himself, and everyone else in the room knew it. "That man," he continued, pointing at George, "misappropriated eight thousand dollars, and he needs to answer for it!"
"No, sir," said Webster. "This money was found hidden in your office at the bank. So if anyone in this room is going to answer for that missing eight thousand dollars, it's going to be you."
"Phooey!" spat Potter as Webster put on the handcuffs. "Do you know who I am?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter, I know who you are," said Webster, "And I also know what you are not."
"And what is that?"
"Above the law."
The days that followed unfolded a swift and staggering turn of events, the likes of which Bedford Falls had never before seen and likely would never see again. News of Potter's arrest had spread faster than fires from an incendiary barrage, and once the word had gotten out, another bank run emerged, only this time the panic run was on the bank itself, and far, far worse than what the Building & Loan had to endure. Nearly everyone who had any amount of money on account in the bank clamored at the entrance trying to get at their money and get it out before it was too late.
And it didn't take long for the bank to become depleted, and be forced to close early. A large and irate crowd was still gathered outside the now-padlocked doors demanding their money. The Bedford Falls Sentinel was very assertive in their choice of headline:
"POTTER ARRESTED FOR GRAND LARCENY"
Right underneath in slightly smaller letters:
"MAJOR RUN ON BANK"
George could only watch the frenzy unfold from a distance. His soul was shaken to its core by everything that was happening, partly because of the fact that it was all happening too fast to keep up with, but also because of the previous reality that just days earlier it could very well have been him and not Potter facing the wrath of justice.
But then something else happened, something that neither George nor anyone else figured on: Everything that came out of Potter's bank- money, assets and all, or at least what equity the customers could readily get hold of before the bank collapsed and shut down, was being brought over to what was at that time the only other institution in Bedford Falls for banking transactions and security deposits: the Bailey Brothers Building & Loan. Nobody in the B&L office was expecting the floodgates to open up even more than they already had when so much of the town came to George's rescue.
In the years since he had been selected by the board of directors to replace his father as head of the B&L, George had fought tooth and nail to earn his reputation as a strong, charitable and trustworthy man, and everyone in town who had money invested with him knew it, and remembered it well. And now, the ones who initially did not trust their money to the Baileys had it thrown in their faces what kind of a man Potter truly was- avaricious and disingenuous. And most of them began to realize, perhaps a little too late, that George Bailey was everything that Potter was not- everything and more, much more.
That Friday evening, December 27th, with the sidewalks and town streets now shoveled and salted, George still took his time as he made his way home. Harry, on a well-earned furlough with his wife Ruth, was staying with George and Mary at their house for the holidays. Harry was in the living room as the kids were sipping hot cocoa while Mary and Ruth were in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner.
"Hey, the tycoon is finally home!" exclaimed Harry.
"Hi, Honey!" Mary's voice resonated from the kitchen as she came into the foyer where George was just taking off his hat and coat.
"Daddy!" Zuzu called as she ran in from the living room followed by Janie, then Petey and Tommy all giving their greetings to their father. Even in his present state of mind George didn't forget to let out a little smile at his kids.
"Everything okay?" asked Mary.
"Well, yeah. Yeah, everything is all right, I guess."
Mary and Harry both looked at George skeptically.
"We've, uhm… We've just about got dinner ready." said Ruth.
"Yeah," added Mary, "I hope you don't mind spaghetti tonight. And Mr. Martini left us an extra bottle of wine."
"Ohh, well, that sounds good," said George unconvincingly, "I guess I'll... go and freshen up."
George slowly walked to the washroom, leaving Mary, Ruth and Harry looking at one another with curiosity, and concern, about George's mood. Mary motioned for the kids to go back in the living room and finish their cocoa before she and Ruth went back into the kitchen, and Harry decided to follow George to the washroom.
George took a washcloth and soaked it under some cool water and put it on his face for a few seconds as Harry watched.
"You sure you're all right, George?"
George's long sigh was all Harry needed to know to realize he wasn't. He dried his face and hands with a towel and then took a good long look at himself in the mirror.
"I dunno. I guess not," he finally said, "I mean, here I thought this whole thing with Potter getting the book thrown at him would be a huge weight off of my back, but for some reason it's not."
"Well, give it time," said Harry, "This whole thing just happened, you know."
"Yeah, I know, I know," said George, "But there's more to it than just that."
"What do you mean?"
George chose his words before saying them.
"Well, you can call me crazy if you want, Harry, but now I… I kinda feel sorry for the old man."
Harry couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.
"All right," he said, "You're crazy."
"Thanks."
"No, I'm serious," said Harry, "After all these years, and everything the old man tried to do to you, to Uncle Billy, to the Building & Loan, and especially to Dad, you actually feel sorry for him?!"
"Harry, I can't help the way I feel," said George, "You already know that I don't have it in me to hold a grudge against anyone, no matter how bad they treat me, or us."
"Y'know, sometimes I can't help but wonder if you're just a little too forgiving, George."
"You say that as though it's a negative thing."
"Sometimes it is," said Harry, "And I think this is one of those times."
"Well, maybe," said George, "But I'm above all the finger pointing and the 'serves you right' speeches. I'll let the rest of the town worry about that."
"Well, I think you're going to be the first one to forgive the man," said Harry, "And I wouldn't be surprised if you're the only one."
"Is that what makes me crazy?" asked George.
"A little," said Harry, "But definitely crazier than the rest of us."
The following week, the district attorney wasted little time indicting Potter on most of the charges mentioned by Webster; though the embezzlement charge was dropped, the other charges, including the most serious, grand larceny, remained. Potter's assistant and bodyguard was also arrested and charged with being an accessory after the fact. With Potter's lawyers pleading 'not guilty' to all of the charges on his behalf, the case had little choice but to go to trial, which it did by the second week of January. During the trial, Potter's lawyers had tried numerous ways to establish that he was innocent, but for every person that took the witness stand in his defense- and the few that did seemed reluctant to do so- there were at least ten others who were more than willing to testify against him.
One witness, a woman in her mid-30s, and a widow with three children, said, pointing to Potter, "I lost almost everything I had because of that... man. I had just lost my husband in the war, and I was struggling to make ends meet, but he didn't care. The only thing on his mind was eviction."
"Potter wouldn't let a single grain of sand fall through his fist without making someone else pay for it," said another customer, a man, "But on the other hand, I wouldn't have a roof over my head if it weren't for George Bailey," said one man, whom George remembered from Christmas Eve. "A lot of us wouldn't have anything left if it weren't for him. All I can say is thank God… thank God for him and that Building & Loan."
Soon the more important testimony was presented in court. Billy was one of the first.
"I realized later that I had accidentally placed the envelope with the money in Potter's newspaper," said Billy, "But at the time I wasn't sure what I had done with it."
"But you had little trouble remembering what happened to it later, didn't you?" said the defense attorney while cross-examining.
"I wasn't in so much of a panic when I remembered it later." argued Billy.
"Potter had tried more than once to shut the Building & Loan down," said George while he was on the stand.
"Do you recall the first time he tried?" asked the prosecutor.
"The very first time? No, I was too young," replied George, "But the first time I personally remember was three months after my father died."
"What happened?"
"It was a board of directors meeting," George explained, "And Potter submitted that the Building & Loan was no longer necessary to the city and wanted it dissolved."
"And the board voted against him?" asked the prosecutor.
"Yeah, they did, but only if I agreed to take my father's place as head of the B&L."
"Were there other times?" the prosecutor asked.
"Yes," said George.
He then went on to tell about the run on the bank orchestrated by Potter in '32, and how he managed to keep the B&L solvent with his $2,000 honeymoon bankroll- of which only two dollars remained at closing time, and then reiterated the Christmas Eve incident when the $8,000 turned up missing after Billy accidentally put it in Potter's newspaper. He then told about how Potter had misled him into believing that the missing money was his own fault, only to have it recovered by the police from in Potter's office after executing the search warrant.
A few days later...
"Court will again come to order." bellowed the bailiff as the judge entered the room.
The court room quickly fell quiet with the dropping of the gavel.
Judge Kellevin turned to the twelve men sitting in the box.
"Gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?"
The foreman stood up. "We have, your honor." he said. He then handed a slip of paper to the bailiff, who in turn took and handed it to the judge. The judge was in no hurry to read it to himself before again turning to the jury.
"On the charge of swearing out a false warrant," said Kellevin, "How do you find the defendant?"
"We find the defendant, Henry F. Potter… guilty."
There was a murmur in the courtroom, quickly followed by shushes before Kellevin continued.
"On the count of obstruction of justice, how do you find?"
"We find the defendant… guilty."
"On the count of conspiracy…"
"We find the defendant... guilty."
"And finally," said Kellevin, "on the count of Grand Larceny, how do you find the defendant?
"We find the defendant..." said the foreman, "Guilty as charged."
Harry later found George sitting in his office quietly sipping coffee and staring at the front page of the evening edition of the Sentinel. The headline once again in banner form sporting giant letters:
"POTTER GUILTY ON ALL CHARGES"
Alone with his thoughts, George didn't realize Harry was there until he spoke up.
"You still feeling guilty, George?" asked Harry.
"Am I still crazy?" George retorted.
Harry had to look down at the floor for a brief moment before he answered.
"I'm not so sure anymore," he finally said. "Did you see Potter's face when they read the last verdict?"
"Yeah, I saw it," said George, "He was already on his way down after they read the first one."
Harry nodded. "I don't think I've ever seen a man so broken before."
"Me neither," George added.
"You know what that means, don't you?" asked Harry.
George looked back up at Harry, but Harry answered his own question before George could.
"We might all be crazy."
George slowly walked into the prison block. He was in no hurry as he strolled up the aisle with jail cells on both sides. From both sides of the block he could hear dialogue and occasional tinny noises from the other inmates. But when he finally stopped, all of the sounds were behind him.
George's eyes widened slightly at what he saw. Potter, in the end cell and still sitting in his wheelchair, but now sporting a disheveled appearance. It was only two days since he last saw Potter in the courtroom, looking like he always looked, but now he looked not only like a man who had just lost everything in a heartbeat, but also like he was being permitted to live a life far longer than he was meant to live. Almost a shell, a shadow of his former self.
The old man kept his head down. It took an extra moment before he finally spoke up.
"What do you want now?"
George was a little confused by Potter's choice of words, as it was the first time George had been in any jail cell, much less one with his former nemesis locked inside.
"I'm not sure yet," George finally said, "I guess, maybe, to talk."
Potter recognized the voice, and finally, albeit slowly, raised his head to place the face with the voice.
"I've got nothing to say to you."
"Well, maybe I've got something to say to you."
"You're enjoying this."
"No." George quietly replied. "No, this... this gives me no pleasure at all, Mr. Potter. None whatsoever."
Potter again looked up at George. Even after everything he had done, George still referred to him as 'Mister Potter'. He was confused by it, but if he was touched, he wouldn't let himself show it.
"Nobody understood me."
"What was there to understand?" asked George. "You had money, you had power, but it wasn't enough. You wanted to control everything in Bedford Falls, and me and my family were in your way. My gosh, if you had had your own way, this town might have been called Pottersville."
"And despite everything I tried, you couldn't be budged. All of you Baileys were a boil on my neck that I could never get rid of."
"Maybe there was a reason you couldn't budge us." George reasoned. "Maybe Someone was trying to tell you that... enough was enough."
"I'm probably better off staying in here now." said Potter. "I suppose you heard about what happened at the bank."
"Yeah, I've heard. I saw, too."
Potter continued looking down at the floor. A few seconds passed before George spoke up again.
"Well... I came in here with a whole list of things to say to you," said George, "But… I guess there's no point to it now."
George took a few extra seconds to gaze at Potter before he slowly turned around to leave, when…
"Wait."
He quickly turned around again to look at Potter.
"Yeah?"
"I, uhm… I… do have something to say."
"Okay."
"I… I… I kinda… envy you, George."
George almost couldn't believe the words that came out of Potter's mouth.
"You envy me? Why?"
Potter wanted to be sure he got the words in the right order in his head before he let them out. He again slowly looked up at George, but this time the look in his face was devoid of anger or bitterness. In what remained of his soul, Potter finally realized that what he lost that truly mattered was not everything materiel that he owned until recently, but something that he had willingly thrown away a long time ago.
"I envy you," he began, his voice getting thinner and weaker, "because you still have something that I made the mistake of forgoing years and years and years ago. You were… you were right about what you said about that 'rabble' being your friends."
George could only look at Potter in sympathy.
"I wish I still had friends like yours." Potter's voice began to crack with those words. But then he turned away from George, further away so George could not see his face. George could hear a faint sniffle from the old man behind bars. He struggled inwardly to find some words of comfort, but none came. But then he recalled the words written in the gift Clarence had given him, his copy of the book The Adventures of Tom Sawyer…
"Remember, no man is a failure who has friends."
George had tried to figure it out in his own mind. Surely Potter had been given many an opportunity, no matter how subtle or forthright, to turn away from the life he chose to life, only to either squander, brush off, or simply ignore every chance that was presented to him to turn himself around. The uncompromising and increasingly painful truth was that he preferred money over friends, and now, he is left with neither.
It was hard for him not to feel sorry for the man, but even with his benevolent nature there was nothing else George could do for him. All he could do was walk away.
The next morning, George had just settled in to his office at the B&L to get ready for the day when Billy rushed in.
"George! George! Have you heard?"
"Heard what?"
"Evidently you haven't. Look at this!" said Billy. He tossed the latest copy of the Sentinel in front of George on his desk. He picked it up and unfolded it to yet another front page banner headline:
"POTTER DEAD"
George eyes widened and his eyebrows raised as he began to read the first few paragraphs of the story:
Henry Fielden Potter, disgraced president and former chief executive officer of Bedford Falls Bank & Trust, was found deceased in his jail cell this morning at Seneca County Jail, Warden Chester Forrest announced.
Potter, who had just been convicted last week on multiple counts including grand larceny and conspiracy, had been found still sitting in his wheelchair when guards came to awaken him. Prison officials concluded that Potter had passed away from natural causes some time during the night; an autopsy is pending.
County records show that Potter had no known living relatives, was unmarried, and had no children.
"That's a horrible way for anyone to die."
"Yeah, I know what you mean." said George. But when he looked up again, the man standing in front of him was not Billy, but Clarence!
George couldn't believe his eyes. His smile quickly widened at the sight of his guardian angel making a return visit.
"Hello, George," the angel quietly said with a smile. "It's good to see you again."
"And you, too!" said George, "But I never thought I would see you again, let alone so soon."
Clarence could only chuckle. "Yeah, well, I didn't think I'd have the chance to see you, either, until Joseph decided that maybe I might be able to, uhm…"
George finally put two and two together when he remembered Potter's words:
"What do you want now?"
It now became clear to George: Clarence had paid a visit to Potter shortly before George did.
"You mean…" started George, "...that they sent you back to try and make Potter see himself as he really was?"
"That's one way of putting it," said Clarence, "Didn't really have a lot of time, and, well, we already knew that Potter's heart was irreversibly hardened, so it turned out to be a lost cause. But nevertheless, on-the-job training never hurts, no matter how futile the outcome."
"On-the-job training?" George asked.
"Sure," said Clarence, "I was in 'Search and Rescue' for 150 years before you helped me to finally earn my wings. Now they have me working in what's called 'Hospice'."
"Hospice," George rolled the word around in his mind a couple of times. "Isn't that treating the terminally ill and giving them comfort, until…"
"That's it." said Clarence. "And I'm not off to the best of starts, I must say, but uhm… I think I'm going to like it there."
"They didn't demote you for Potter, did they?"
"Ohh, nooo, no! I'm an AS1 now. I still have my wings, thanks to you. Sorry you can't see them here, but I've still got 'em." Clarence replied with a smile.
George cracked a smile of his own in relief, but then the one inevitable question flashed in his mind:
"Not that I'm not glad you came back," said George, "But why are you here again, Clarence?"
"Well, for one thing, because I'm still your guardian angel." Clarence replied. "I'm not one to finish a job and then just let it go at that." Clarence replied,
"Yeah, I know what you mean." George nodded in agreement.
"And second, Joseph and I agreed that maybe I should come back and talk to you a little bit about what you've been feeling."
"Feeling?"
"Oh, yes. We've noticed that you're down on yourself about what Potter went through," Clarence explained, "so Joseph instructed me to come back and tell you to not let your heart be so troubled."
Clarence had George's full attention.
"You mustn't blame yourself for everything Potter did, George," he continued, "He had been doing those things since long before you were born."
"But what is it that causes a man to become like Potter was?"
"Well, there are many schools of thought on that; I think it depends on who you talk to," said Clarence, "If you were to ask a hundred people that same question, you'd probably get at least a hundred different answers."
George's eyes trailed downward to his desk.
"I'm sorry that I don't have an answer for you, George," said Clarence, "But what I can tell you now is this: now that you realize the wonderfulness of the life you have, don't lose faith in what you've been doing. The best thing you can do now is to forget what is behind you, and keep moving forward. That's all any of us can do."
George let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I guess you're right." But when he looked back up, he saw his Uncle Billy standing there again.
"Right about what?" Billy asked.
George had to do a series of double takes, between his Uncle Billy and the paper he was still holding in his hand. He had to do some soul rattling to bring himself back to the consciousness of what, and who, he again saw standing before him.
"You okay, George?" asked Billy.
"Uhm… Well, yeah. I'm... I'm all right."
Billy wasn't so certain. "Are you sure?" he asked, "I could swear you called me by someone else's name… sounded like… Clarence or something."
George steeled himself and took a deep breath before he rose from his desk. "Well, Uncle Billy, I've heard that the Federal Depositors Insurance Corporation has finally released funds to many of Potter's old customers."
"I heard about that," said Billy, "And I'm guessing that many of them will be looking for a new place to deposit their money."
George noticed a spark growing in his uncle's eyes.
"I thought of that, too," said George, "So are you ready to welcome some new customers today, Uncle Billy?"
"You bet I am."
"Well, then, let's get to work." said George as he strode past Billy out toward the teller window.
Billy started to follow George out to the workstation, but stopped short in the doorway for a moment to think aloud to himself.
"Who's Clarence?"