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Williams' Kid Doing Fine Without Daddy!

by Brent Kellogg
November 14, 2007

The calculator already on my screen from doing the how long has Victoria Newman been pregnant math, I punched in the numbers. 10, 31, 2002. The day Ricky Carl Williams was baptized which means he must have been a few weeks earlier. Right? Wrong. The child of Paul and Izzy Williams was born on, or about, 5, 30, 2002, give or take a day allowing for Genoa City time and various time warps. That would make Ricky how old today? Five?

If you said five, you would be right. Five going on six, the boy is happy to be living without his father in Los Angeles where Paul dumped him five long years ago. Time flies when you're having fun, it seems like only yesterday Paul and his brother, the Bible-thumping Todd Williams were celebrating Mother's Day with their cranky, and since dropped off the face of Genoa City, mother Mary Williams. During that 2004 gathering, Mary not once asked Paul about her grandson or why, two years later, he had not obtained a legal divorce from Izzy sent to prison without a trail following an attempt on the creepy Christine 'Bug' Blair's life.

It was only after Izzy had gone away that Paul made his one and only trip to Los Angeles to check on Ricky. A day later Paul was home and he never went back. He may have spoken Ricky's name once in those five years, but if he did I don't remember and I would have which is why today I am so amazed, and somewhat outraged, that Paul, admitting "I'm clueless", told his heretofore abandoned all her life until this week daughter that she has a brother. A half-brother to be exact, Paul told Heather Stevens that he and Ricky have "a good relationship".

While Paul does have Ricky's age down pat, that he has a good relationship with the boy made me sick. As a kid abandoned by his father at age two, as an adult in his 40's who tracked daddy down and asked why only to be told, "I did love you", Paul makes me angry. If by good relationship he means that Ricky is being good about not wanting to know who he is, that I can believe.

How Paul sat there today telling Heather with a straight face that he "regrets" doing what he did, how he just let the lie fester for some twenty-plus years, and oh by the way, did I mentioned I did the same thing to your brother and he doesn't mind so much, is too much even for me to swallow.

But let's say we give him the benefit of the doubt. When, exactly, did Paul establish this relationship? When he was holding Sheila Carter captive and breaking the law? When he went on the reliquary search and conspired with with Brad Carlton, Nick Newman and J.T. Hellstrom to keep the secret that Carlton killed two men?

Heather is feeling too burned right now adjusting to what a worthless slug Paul is, so forgive her for not asking more about Ricky, how daddy came to knock Izzy up, how he raped another woman and the other female horror stories going back to when Paul and Nikki Reed were flower children.

To say that Paul is a lying sack of crap is only skimming the surface. Unless Heather gets cold feet, unless she allows Michael Baldwin's spewing - that she must recuse herself from charging Paul with a crime because Paul's her daddy - scare her off, I would recommend Heather grab Paul by the testicular sack, empty though it may be, nail him to a board by it and then push his sorry ass over Niagara Falls, or any falls will do so long as it rids the Earth of this disgusting, poor excuse for a man, the weasel Paul Williams.

Second Chance? Fat Chance!

by Brent Kellogg
November 1, 2007

Somewhere deep inside Paul William's colon there's a drop of moral fiber. It can't be seen with the naked eye, but it's there and today the defective detective was searching for it. How it got there, Williams doesn't know. It wasn't there before. It hasn't been since the day years ago that he made a conscious decision not to have a relationship with his daughter; it wasn't there about thirteen years later when he had a second chance to tell Heather Stevens the truth. Maybe it was something he ate. Maybe Danny Romalotti took a dump and thinking it was chocolate pudding, Williams lapped it up.

"Luke, I am your father."

Like Danny allowed Phyllis Summer's son to go through his formative years thinking he was Daniel Romalotti's father, and it was only when the truth had to be pulled out of Danny like a rotten tooth, now it's Paul's turn. But can he do it? Is he strong enough? Man enough? Will the truth set him free if he tells Heather and not Ricky Carl?

Given the warped sense of morality and family values among Genoa City's elite populace, probably. Paul will crawl on his knees before Heather, give her a song and dance about how he and her mother were so young when he knocked April up, and because April wanted to raise her baby alone figured it would be the best. It's not like Heather grew up with only one parent; Robert Lynch was there for her. He and April kept the lie alive until Heather was thirteen. April allowed Heather to think she had two parents until she shoved a letter opener into Robert's back and only then thought she should mention, "Oh Heather, stop your bawling. He wasn't your real father."

Found guilty of murder, April and Heather moved back East where she managed to scrape together enough money to send Heather to law school. Then, as fate would have it, Heather snapped up a chance to return to the city where Robert was murdered. She knows little about the city's most clueless PI, and proving that the nut doesn't fall far from the tree, had no clue today as to why Paul was babbling to her about finding the desire to live while he was buried in the Clear Springs disaster and that his survival has given him a "new perspective on life".

Armed with said perspective, Paul claims now to know what matters most and it's not that when he's been hired by the great Victor Newman to find out who's responsible for the Clear Springs disaster that he should get off his fat ass and go digging for clues. Nope, Paul says he's got people doing the dirty work for him although who those people are only he knows as his one employee, J.T. Hellstrom, isn't digging either. In fact, both have been hanging out at the God Have Mercy Medical center and tonight Paul was slumming at the Jitter Joint.

That it was night was odd because there was no evidence there had been day between the preceding Halloween night. No ghosts, no goblins, no young children strewn along the sidewalks suffering in diabetic shock. There were plenty of tricksters around though. Pulling off her best trick, dirty cop Maggie Sullivan had gone to the Chancellor Mausoleum for the sole purpose of accusing Cane Ashby of leaking a story to the media. Five minutes later, she was at the JJ listening to Paul whine that Heather is his daughter and doesn't know it. In deep remorse, he described Heather as an "incredible person" who has found "some happiness" and moron that he is, had to ask Maggie, "What do I do? Once I tell her, there's no turning back."

Of course what he should do is exactly what he won't do. Paul will open the can of worms, Heather, who said today she could give a rip if she ever sees her real pa, will play the angry child for weeks on end, and if all goes well they'll become the new Phyllis and Daniel until, or if, Heather finds out about Ricky Carl in which case it'll be a double-whammy worth an additional 13 weeks of endless how-could-you-be-such-a-bastard ranting with Heather never once asking to actually meet Ricky or to spend time with Carl and Mary Williams, the grandparents she still has no clue are her grandparents because April didn't tell her about that either.

Despite all the lies, one thing Paul said today is true: "Not everyone gets a second chance." Problem is, this is actually the third chance he's had to tell Heather the truth and God knows how many chances he's had to make a marriage work and he can't do that just like for every chance he's had to solve a case, and there have been many, he hasn't solved more than one by himself. Still, to his credit, Paul's got the right attitude. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

August 28, 2007

Lying Sack of Crap
Not that it's dirty cop Maggie Sullivan's business whether or not Paul 'Clueless' Williams informs Heather Stevens that he's her daddy, Williams' assertion this week - that he can't tell because he made a promise to Stevens' mother that he wouldn't - makes Williams a lying sack of crap.

During the infamous battered beauty case of 1994, Williams told April Stevens he was thinking about telling the child they had together who her father was. Stevens had no problem with it. Williams never had the guts to tell Heather, nor did he object when defense attorney Christine 'Bug' Blair said she planned to use the information as part of her defense.

During a sidebar at the trial, it became public record that Williams and Stevens "shared" a daughter. Unfortunately, the judge wouldn't allow it. "I find this all quite interesting, but what's it got to do with this case? This isn't family court," the judge said.

Getting Away With Murder

February 12, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

Like snakes under a rock that had just been turned over, Paul Williams, Michael Baldwin, and his wife were squirming today out of fear that one, or all of them, might be arrested for their many crimes.

On the horn, the clueless PI, and always worried about losing his license to practice law Baldwin, exchanged pleasantries before getting to the crux of their guilty consciences; police detective Maggie Sullivan knows too much.

Inside her God Have Mercy Medical Center hospital room, Sullivan had been talking to the police and that couldn't have been good for the criminals. Emerging from Sullivan's room a real detective took the make-believe detective downtown for questioning and no sooner had Williams arrived but what he called Baldwin again.

Instructed not to say anything without a lawyer, Williams moaned and groaned about what might have been. If only he weren't such a fool he would have gone to the police the moment he laid eyes on Sheila Carter. Had he not been a bumbling, clueless PI, with a sickness that it was incumbent upon him to protect the Baldwin's, he wouldn't at that moment be stepping in the crap he'd created.

And because the District Attorney must always be present for routine questioning, Will Bardwell arrived to personally ask the pointed questions the first of which was why Baldwin was there. Why would a lawyer who had just gone through the trauma of having his baby kidnapped want to represent Williams? Could it be Williams won't speak without an attorney present, or because there are no other lawyers presently practicing law in such a big city Genoa is said to be? Not that it mattered, Bardwell said he only wanted to ask Williams a few questions about "timelines" and other "events" surrounding Carter's visit to their fine city.

As to how Williams knew of the cell Carter had constructed, Williams invoked a reporter's best friend; the right not to reveal sources. Without flinching, Bardwell accepted that reasoning as it wasn't the same as lawyer-client confidentiality. It's not like Williams had a client and therefore couldn't rightfully make such a statement without drawing howls of laughter.

Perhaps confused as to why Williams hadn't refused to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate him, which would have made sense, Bardwell was nevertheless suspicious that both Williams and Baldwin were hiding something. But he didn't press. He didn't want to hurt their feelings either as the Baldwin's had already been hurt as evidenced by Baldwin's whine that Carter had haunted them for years. Bardwell's empty questions answered, Baldwin thanked him again for having the decency not to charge his wife with a crime.

All that was missing was the money changing hands. A few thousand to Bardwell, a few hundred to Sullivan, would have made the farce believable. Instead, Baldwin and Williams rushed back to the hospital to see if Sullivan would sing like a love bird. Canaries couldn't have sung better. The lady cop crooned. She repeated word for word what she'd told the real detective with such feeling that for a split second Williams felt guilty. Here his botched kidnapping of Carter had gone so wrong and had nearly got Sullivan killed, and here she was protecting him and the Baldwin's and because it's expected, blaming herself for going to the cage alone.

When Williams said he "owes" Sullivan for conspiring to conceal their crimes, she said payment had already been paid in full; that Carter is dead was payment enough.

Like a school girl, Baldwin skipped home to give his wife the good news; Sullivan is part of their lie. Thanks to another corrupt cop, the Baldwin's won't have to worry anymore. Not that Mrs. Baldwin was sweating the small stuff; she was a bit pissed that within hours of killing a woman the nightmare hadn't gone away. She squawked that bad things are always happening to her and wished that just once she could be alone with her husband and baby so as to give the illusion of the all-American, happy family. She saw no possible chance of her husband or Williams being arrested until she grasped Sullivan's vital connection to her freedom. For a moment Mrs. Baldwin seemed ready to kill Sullivan too, as she had Carter, if that's what it took to protect her family. In a city of determined elite willing to do anything to keep their loved ones safe, the thought surely crossed the horror shop owner's mind.

Thus another lesson in Genoa City Justice 101 is complete. Commit as many crimes as you want and then pretend you are the victim. The cops, the D.A., everyone involved, will make it possible for you to literally get away with murder.

The Eyes of Sheila Carter

January 19, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

He's said to have his "contacts" in the field who can illegally gain access to anyone's credit information and has trampled all over the rights of suspected criminals like Kevin Fisher and is himself a criminal now that he's taken Sheila Carter hostage, so when Paul 'Clueless' Williams today said he lied to his doctor to get a prescription it came as no surprise as this bozo is willing to say anything, break any law, to get what he wants.

Maybe Clueless hasn't heard, it's a federal crime to obtain prescriptions illegally. What Williams has done is called fraudulent obtaining of a controlled substance in that he lied in order to obtain an antibiotic in which he then illegally transferred to captive Carter and thereby compounded his crime.

While serious, Clueless adding to what could end up being a long rap sheet wasn't as funny as Carter telling him he's in love with her and too shy to admit it. Granted, the woman may have an infected stab wound, but no prisoner would ever say something so dumb, not even Sharon Newman.

Of further eyebrow-raising concern today was how odd it is that certain people in the city have the ability to perceive things that aren't quite right. Not only did Katherine Sterling discern that J.T. Hellstrom didn't seem himself, police detective Maggie Sullivan, who hardly knows Clueless, implied he was hiding something. The assumption was based on Clueless' earlier lie as to how he got a black eye, but unless Sullivan is completely psychotic, why would a black eye make her suspicious and what business would it be of hers? Never mind that Clueless is supposed to be a private detective, and as such must have had more than a few black eyes in his time considering the sewers he crawls around in supposedly chasing slimy characters, Sullivan, real detective that she's supposed to be, should know by now that most all these characters are black-eyed.

Speaking of eyes, and forgetting for now that those who have contact with Carter now see her everywhere because she looks like Phyllis Newman and that this frenzy will only increase as the daze goes by, why, while Clueless was popping pills down Carter's throat and she opened her eyes, was he seemingly stunned? Does she have pinkeye? A pig's eye? Or are these the eyes of Laura Mars? Consider the possibility.

Like the movie wherein victims were stabbed in the eye, what if Carter has tractor beam X-ray vision? When their eyes meet she blinds Clueless and he must live out his remaining days as a blind man on the street selling pencils to eek out a living until one day he meets professor Xavier and becomes one of the X-Men.

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