Accused

Nineteen sixty four, the eighth of October. He had been detained, the long hidden “Corporate Bomber.” Corporate Bomber’s name implies exactly what it looks like, a man who blows up corporations. He’s been on the list of criminals to detain, but it took seventeen years before we finally caught wind of his hideout, then another month after that to capture him. Now, he’s in San Quentin State Prison, awaiting his death penalty. On paper, he’s destroyed roughly twenty-three corporation buildings, killing about forty to fifty people per building. Overall, he’s killed over one thousand people alone. However, this is only in the records. In reality, his numbers are completely hidden. No one, even himself, knows how many buildings he’s destroyed or how many people he’s killed. It was only three days ago that he was here, face-to-face with me. I was to interrogate him, to find out exactly how many people he’s killed and how many buildings he’s destroyed, along with any other of his potential subordinates and his motive for doing it. He stated he has no subordinates, and that his motive was “it was fun.” People like him disgust me. Killing innocents because they think it’s fun. How do you get off doing that? Killing is not fun, it’s cruel. Other from that subject, I’ve been assigned a new case. The captain stated that I was to investigate at a McDonald's in San Francisco, as three people had been murdered, along with seventeen injured. The only details I have are that and that the cause of the injuries and deaths was a shooting. I don’t see the reason for someone to shoot up a McDonald’s, but it wasn’t acceptable.

By the time I arrived, I found police tape around the scene, as well as police loitering around. I entered the building, ducking under the yellow tape. I looked around for the captain, but I didn’t see him around. Usually, the captain wouldn’t be wandering off in a different location, knowing I had been set on a case. The captain persists on telling me about the case any time I’m put on one. If he’s wandered off elsewhere, there’s something definitely strange. I walked over to the three corpses, covered in white tarps to hide the probably hideous sight from any citizens. I ducked down and lifted one of the tarps, examining the body. I found a man with three bullet holes in his body. One in the head, one in the breast, and one in the left arm. There was a dirt footprint on his left leg, assuming he had been kicked to knock him down. After all, he looked like a fairly hefty man. I examined for anything else, but came up with nothing. I released the tarp, walked over to the second body, and lifted the tarp. Under it, a woman lay there, a single bullet hole in her left-side breast as well as a stab wound in her stomach. With the set of events, I presume she had been stabbed, then shot. There would be no reason for the murderer to attack a dead body. Examining further, she was missing a shoe, but for what reason? I examined her foot, but nothing came out of it. I laid the tarp back down, then moved to the third body. The last of those who had been murdered. I lifted the tarp and found something I would not have expected. I found Captain Jarold Harkins, the captain himself. It wasn’t a pretty sight to see. I could tell he put up a fight. He had been shot twice in the right arm, once in the left leg, and three times in the right leg. He had several stab wounds in his torso, as well as a dent in his head, presumably from a metal bar. When I dug further into this, I found something within the dent in his head. I found paint. I suppose paint had came off the object he had been hit with. It seemed like a very small amount, impossible to see if one had only skimmed over his body. The blood wasn’t coming out anymore, but the blood wasn’t dry, unlike the other bodies. It would seem that the captain was murdered more recently than the other two. I covered the captain’s body up and looked down at my chest, finding the necklace I had once been given by the captain. I unclipped the necklace from my neck and placed it ontop of the tarp in which his body had been hidden under. I stood and turned, looking at the two nearest officers, giving them both a nod to resemble I had finished my current investigation of the three bodies. Now, however, I had to find other things around the building. I examined each wall, the floor, the ceiling, the tables, anything I could to uncover anything possible. On the north wall, I found a blood stain, along with a small chunk of brain laying on the floor. On the west wall, I found another blood stain. Near the bathrooms, I found a metal bar lying upon the ground, with blood on it. When I looked at it, the paint was that of which was on the captain. Once I continued to look around more, I found nothing. Our best evidence by far was the metal bar. I walked back over to the two officers and explained all that I had currently found. Once I left the building, I headed directly to the police department. It would seem that no one had information about the captain yet.

“Detective, how’s your day?” one of the officers looked over to me and spoke.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s leading on to a good one,” I replied.

“How so?” he asked.

“The captain,” I said, “He’s one of the victims of my most recent investigation.”

“The captain?” he said, “You mean, Captain Harkins?” He looked around at the rest of the people in the building. The ones who had heard turned to us, then turned to others to spread the word.

“Detective, is this some kind of joke?” one of the officers that were seated stood and spoke.

“I’m afraid not,” I said, “Captain Harkins was killed in the incident of the McDonald’s shooting. October eighth, nineteen sixty four. Harkins lived a life of fulfillment, giving joy to many, as well as justice.” I bowed my head for a short period of time, then turned my back towards them.

“I can’t believe it,” I heard chatter coming from behind me. Sorrow floated in the air, gloom filled their hearts. What could I say, they lost their most loved member of the force. I walked forward, to the door, exiting the building.

The loss of a close friend is painful, but we all move on, some sooner than others. However, what can I say? Everyone, no, everything dies at some point in time. Given enough time, we will all die. I fear only one thing, time. Time is truly scary. With enough time for anything, you don’t know what will come. One moment, you could be celebrating the victory of a battle, the next, everyone could be slaughtered by an oncoming force of bomber planes. Time is truly terrifying. However, it exists. I decided to head back to my apartment to examine the evidence I had found. The blood stains on the walls, where the bodies were when they had been killed, the metal bar, and the paint on the captain’s head. There wasn’t much to work off of. Just then, while I had been looking over the evidence, my phone rang. I looked over to the phone and picked it up.

“Hello, Detective Lavine,” I said.

“Hello there, Detective,” an unfamiliar voice came from the other end, “Looking into that recent incident?”

“That’s classified information, who are you?” I said.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” he said, “You best watch your back, Detective, or you’ll regret it.” Then, they hung up. A new piece of evidence, a mysterious phone call from an unknown source. Still, this lead us nowhere in our search. I received another phone call shortly after that. When I picked it up, I heard the voice of an officer.

“Detective, we have information about the metal bar, but it’s nothing you’ll want to hear,” he said.

“I want to hear everything, officer,” I said.

“Understood,” he said, “The metal bar came up with no fingerprint traces. We did, however, manage to find out precisely where it came from. Bethlehem Steel. Apparently, this man bought the bar directly from the company, itself. You may take a look into it if you so please.”

“All the way in Pennsylvania?” I said.

“Afraid so,” he replied. If I were to get in touch, it’d be easier to call a man that has connections.

“What’s the information on it?” I asked.

“There’s a specified number on it,” he said, “Five, zero, zero, two, one.” Without a bye, I hung up the phone and began a call for someone else. Once he picked up, I instantly began to speak.

“Russell, I need your help,” I said.

“What do you need, Jo?” he asked.

“I need you to get in contact with Bethlehem Steel and request the buyer of a metal bar with the number of five zero zero two one, could you do that?” I was persistent on getting this case solved.

“Sure, whatever you need,” he said.

“Thanks Russell,” I replied.

“No problem, talk to you another time,” he hung up, and I set my phone aside. With Russell’s help, there should be no problem with solving this case. I stood from my seat and walked to my bathroom, stripping myself of my clothes. Without a second thought, I stepped into the shower and turned the knob, heated water pouring down onto my body with minimal amount of stings. Once I had finished my quick shower, I stepped out and quickly dried myself, walking through my apartment, to my room. I pulled out a drawer and grabbed the first pair of boxers I found, slipping them on. I tossed myself onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, pondering about the many things in the past years in which caused me problems or grief. The death of Jarold was definitely something that struck as painful, but I continue to move on. Soon, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, when the sun rose again, I woke up, lifting my head painfully. A headache struck me the moment I woke. I sat for a minute, waiting for the headache to pass, as usual. And so, it did. I stood at full height, slowly moving around the room, obtaining my clothes, slipping it on, and preparing for the day. I grabbed a pair of gray slack, a white button-up shirt, a gray jacket, and a black tie, along with black dress shoes. As usual, a suit. I walked out of my room and to my kitchen, opening the fridge to find slices of meat along with cheese. I grabbed a few slices of meat and a single slice of cheese, closed the fridge, and walked over to a bread box. I opened it and pulled out two slices of bread, placing the meat and cheese on one slice, then putting the other slice of bread on it. I ended up eating it rather quickly, as I felt a long day would come ahead. However, before I left the apartment, the phone rang. I walked over to the phone and picked it up, bringing it to my ear.

“Jo, I’m sorry,” I heard Russell speaking.

“Russell, what’s wrong?” I suddenly had a jolt once I heard Russell apologizing.

“The numbers, they don’t clock in with anyone. No one bought the metal bar. It was stolen,” Russell said. Stolen. Well shit, that means that there is no proper evidence to finding out exactly who did it. When looking at the bodies, I found no bullets, only bullet holes. There were no traces of the knife, or knives, that were used, and there was nothing else that I could possibly use to find out who it was. The police department has probably already pulled the tape from the cameras and asked the cashiers and other people in the incident about it.

“Thanks anyways, Russell,” I said, hanging up without receiving a word back from him. I stepped out of my apartment and was on my way to the police department. Once I had arrived, I noticed that everyone was in a very gloomy mood. I walked over to the current subordinate head.

“Hello Detective,” he said to me.

“I need to know if you’ve pulled the tape from the cameras, or if you’ve asked any of the other people in the area about the incident,” I said.

“We’ve pulled the tape, but it didn’t get any feed on the murderer’s face. It would seem that he was wearing a mask during the entire session of his murder, so none of the others saw his face, either,” he told me. The last chance at capturing him, but he still manages to slip. Who the hell is this guy anyway. I turned without a word and exited the building with pent up rage inside, but nothing to release it on. Would the captain just die like that, without justice? If I have to, I will track down this man alone. I decided to walk around town for a bit, to see if I found anything of interest to me. After a few minutes of walking, I overheard two men talking about a party at the Westerfeld House. It would seem that Congressman Erik Jeans would be holding the party in honor of his daughter becoming a detective. It sounded interesting enough, and it would seem that it was being held at six o’clock tonight. As it was only five thirty now, it would imply I had thirty minutes to get there. As of now, it shouldn’t be too far, so I decided to walk. I had walked for about twenty minutes, and it had been right in front of me. I stepped up the stairs and came across a man standing at the door.

“Name,” he said.

“Joseph Lavine,” I said.

“Not on the list,” he said. It would seem that you had to be on the list in order to enter.

“Might a detective be able to enter?” I said.

“No, get out of here,” he continued to reject me. I walked off and decided to find a different way in. I went around the mansion and peered into a window. At the moment, no one was in that specific room, so I lifted the window and began climbing in, slowly and steadily. Soon, I was in and closed the window, walking out of the room and into a larger room which held multiple people. I looked around and found Erik, himself. Around here, Erik had been a popular face, so just about everyone knew him. Standing next to him was no other than his daughter, Emma Jeans. Not to mention, she wore a black suit, along with a tie and slacks instead of a skirt. She had short brown hair and, standing next to her father, seemed short. I found my way through the crowd of people, approaching both of them.

“Hello Erik,” I tried to strike up a conversation.

“Who might you be?” he replied.

“My name is Joseph Lavine,” I said. He simply just looked at me, rather suspiciously.

“I don’t recall a Mister Lavine on the list?” he said. It would seem that he formed the list, himself.

“No need to worry about that,” I said, “I’m simply just a detective who has connections.” Right, connections. With a window.

“I see,” he said, “Very well then.” I looked over to his daughter. I knew Erik had a daughter, but I never knew her name, nor that she was rather on the cute side.

“If it doesn’t trouble you, what would your daughter’s name be?” I asked Erik.

“Emma,” he said, “Did you not know?”

“Just a forgetful mind, that’s all,” I said. That was a plain lie. If I had that forgetful of a mind, how would I be a detective?

“If you have a forgetful mind, how would it be that you’re a detective?” Emma spoke up.

“Simple, a notepad,” I said. I do have a notepad with multiple things on it, including the evidence from the McDonald’s murder.

“May I see it?” she asked. Without a word, I pulled a notepad from my left back pocket and handed it to her. She looked over it, examining each page carefully. She just sighed and handed it back to me.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“No, just that it seems like you were the detective to investigate the murder of my mother,” She said. Now that I think of it, that is true. I do recall a different person with the last name of Jeans in one of my past investigations. If I remember, I believe the murder took place in North Dakota, in just a small apartment. I did find out who it was, and they had been sentenced to several years of prison.

“Very well,” I said, “I suppose I’ll leave you two to your own actions.” I turned and walked off, to nowhere in specific.

Hours had passed since I arrived, but nothing significant had come around. I had been moving around the party, looking around for anything potentially suspicious. As of now, though, I was leaning against a wall, examining the room. There wasn’t much to be wary of, as of now. However, I heard a scream coming from nearby, so I started weaving through the crowd. Once I got to the source of the scream, I found Erik on the ground, as well as blood. A murder, right here, right where I was. With such a cluster of people, I guess it wouldn’t be too hard to kill someone, then quickly run off. I saw a woman at her knees, so I walked over to her.

“Ma’am, may I ask if you saw the person who killed him?” I knelt down next to her and asked. However, she just kept staring at the body. I stood, turned around to the people.

“How could this happen?” I heard from the crowd.

“Who could have done this?” from another person. The people seemed shocked.

“Did anyone see who did this?” I yelled. However, it was useless. No one responded. I was frustrated. How could this happen right here, only a few meters away from me, and yet, I didn’t have a single clue as to who did it, yet. I knelt down next to the body and began observing. All I found was a single stab wound in his neck, but nothing else. There was no proper evidence for anything.

“Detective,” I heard a familiar voice come from behind me, “What’s going on?” Once the person emerged from the crowd, I saw who it was. It was Emma. She saw the body, and just stood there.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” I said, “Your father has been murdered.” It was painful to just stand there and watch as a woman broke down in tears, but there was nothing I could do about it. I simply just turned to the exit and walked off. There is no evidence, there are no cameras in this room. No one would speak up, so my decision ends on contacting the new captain of the police department, my own cousin. I exited the building, walking down the few steps there were, and continued on my way to the police department. Once I entered, I looked around for my cousin.

“Hello Detective,” one of the officers approached me.

“I need to know where my cousin is,” I said.

“The captain?” he said, “He’s in his office, that way.” The officer pointed me towards my cousin’s office, so I headed there. I opened the door and looked around. I’ve been in this office many times before, but it felt different without the previous captain. My cousin looked up from his papers and noticed me.

“Joseph, how have things been?” he stood and walked over to me.

“Not exactly the best right now,” I said, shaking his hand.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“Erik Jeans was murdered at his own party today, but I can’t find any evidence,” I said.

“What?” he seemed surprised, “You mean, the Congressman?”

“Yes,” I said. My cousin walked past me and out the door. I could hear him raising his voice, telling the officers about the incident. I walked out of the office as they were heading out. Behind them, I followed. Several officers and I arrived shortly to the scene. Some people already fled, while others stood. The woman who screamed had been in a man’s arm, presumably her husband.

“Who all saw this happen?” my cousin turned to me and asked.

“There was a woman who screamed when it happened,” I pointed over to the woman in the man’s arms, “Her.” My cousin walked over to the man and woman and began talking. Once he finished with them, he came back over to me.

“She stated that she saw a person in a black coat with a mask and a hood, no skin showing at all. I’m afraid we can’t find out who it was,” he told me. A familiar description.

“It’s definitely a man,” I said.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“The same description as the man who murdered the previous captain, Jarold,” I said.

“How can you be so sure that there aren’t multiple people in masks running around?” he asked.

“How often do you see multiple people wearing masks, murdering people?” I said.

“Not that often,” he responded. I turned to the body and walked over as the police were escorting the others outside.

“There’s no evidence, then,” I said, “There’s no way to find out who did it.”

“We could look for fingerprints,” my cousin said.

“He doesn’t leave anything like that. After all, the woman did say there was no skin showing, didn’t she?” When I refreshed his mind, he looked stumped. I saw Emma, sitting against a wall at the far end of the room, away from the body.

“Who’s that?” my cousin asked.

“Emma Jeans, Erik Jeans’ daughter. The party was to honor her becoming a detective,” I replied.

“I see,” he said. I walked over to her. When she noticed me, she looked up.

“What do you want?” she said.

“Do you have any idea who could have done this? Anyone who disliked your father?” I asked her.

“No, why would I know?” she said.

“You are his daughter, after all,” my cousin spoke up. She just sighed and stood.

“I don’t know anyone who would have the need to murder my father,” she said.

“Would it help to give you a description of the person who murdered him?” I asked her.

“Yes, it would,” she responded.

“The man was wearing a black coat, as well as a hood and a mask. As explained, he wasn’t showing any skin,” my cousin said.

“I see,” she looked down and sighed, but, apparently, something caught her eye, as she grabbed my wrist and pulled it upwards.

“What is it?” I asked, startled.

“What about you?” she said, “You have gloves on, as well as you aren’t showing any skin.”

“What?” I said, “How do you explain the fact that the man had a black coat, a hood, and a mask on?”

“You could have snuck it out before re-appearing to act as if you were examining my father’s body,” she said.

“What?” I said, “Your story doesn’t make sense. Besides, I have no reason to murder your father.”

“Remember what the Corporate Bomber said?” she said. Then it came to me, he never really had a proper motive.

“I don’t have a black coat with a hood, nor a mask,” I said, “Examine my house if you want.” I was giving them full permission to observe my home if they needed to.

“Very well,” she said. She walked out of the room.

“You’re in a tough spot, Joseph,” my cousin said, “I don’t think you did it. After all, why would you?”

“I have no reason to, and I didn’t,” I said. We walked out, following Emma. Of course, I had to escort Emma, my cousin, and two other officers to my apartment. Once we arrived, I unlocked the door and opened it, letting in my cousin first, then Emma, then the two officers, then closing the door behind me as I entered.

“May we begin?” my cousin asked.

“Feel free,” I said. They all dispersed into different rooms as I sat in a chair behind my desk, which was positioned in from of a window. I came here after coming home from a case to examine the evidence I found. Today, however, it was to wait for them to uncover nothing. It only took a few minutes for Emma to come back to me.

“What’s this?” she asked as she tossed a black coat and a mask onto my desk. What was this? No, rather, whose is it? That was when my cousin and the two officers walked in, as well.

“What the hell?” I said, “Whose is this?”

“I found it in your bathroom, laying on the floor,” she said.

“As much as it may seem, it isn’t mine,” I said. However, she didn’t buy it. One of the officers grabbed me and pulled me up. I knew it would be pointless to resist, so I went along with him. I put my hands behind my back, then he put a pair of handcuffs on me. I was escorted out of my own home with the black coat and the mask. We arrived at the police department shortly. Once I was escorted to a specific room, I was sat down in a chair. The officers left the room, along with Emma and my cousin. I sat there for a few minutes before Emma re-entered the room. She took a seat across from me, glaring at me.

“Why?” she said quietly.

“I assure you, it wasn’t me,” I said calmly, “What reason would I have to kill your father?”

“Who said you needed a reason?” she said, “You could have killed him because you wanted to.”

“Though the coat and mask were in my room, you don’t have the knife to prove if I did it,” I said, “There was a stab wound on your father’s neck.” She stood up, walked out of the room, and walked back in moments later with a knife from my kitchen that had blood on it. It was the perfect size for the stab wound.

“How do you explain this?” she said.

“Someone broke into my house?” I asked myself, “But why?” I was trying to think of why.

“Is that your excuse?” she said.

“Of course,” I said, “They must have tried to frame me.” I looked up to her.

“Nice try, but that doesn’t sound likely,” she said.

“Of course not, not to you,” I said, “If you look at my notepad, you’ll find the case of the McDonald’s murder. The same person murdered three people there, including the previous captain of the police department. They wanted to frame me so that no one could find out who killed them.” She walked behind me and pulled the notepad from my back pocket, opening it until she found the results of the McDonald’s murder.

“How do you know that it wasn’t someone else who murdered them?” she was persistent on believing that it was me.

“How many people do you see running around in a black coat and a mask murdering people?” I said.

“That doesn’t mean there aren’t more than one,” she said. At this point, she has me cornered. It doesn’t seem likely that I’ll be getting out of this.

“I have nothing left to say,” I said. She stood and exited the room. Shortly after, two officers came in. One stood me up and escorted me out. I was being taken to court, the day of the murder.

Since everything around this place was close, we could just walk, and so we did. We walked to a large building, with two doors as the entrance. We walked across a hallway, to a room which had a strange table, a circle, but it wasn’t enclosed. There were roughly twenty seats, which had already been filled by multiple people. Some seats were empty. Though there were twenty seats, there were only about eleven people occupying them.

“Is this the scum that murdered Erik?” one of them spoke with a deep voice.

“Yes,” Emma said. I was forced on my knees, my back towards the door to the room. I had never known that this room existed. When I looked up from the floor, I saw an old man, his beard white.

“You,” he spoke in a grumble, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I have nothing to state,” I said, knowing it would be useless to argue against Emma, who occupied the few objects to make it seem like I murdered Erik.

“Very well,” he said. Since there was no proof that I had actually murdered Erik to the few in this room, Emma presented the things she found in my apartment, explaining what she believed to be true.

“To conclude this, I believe this man murdered my father, Erik Jeans,” she finished up her speech.

“I understand,” the man said, “Everyone’s thoughts?” At first, no one stated anything. They were unsure, as Emma’s words sounded a bit sketchy. However, one of the people stood.

“Guilty,” he stated. It would seem that they are voting on whether I am guilty or innocent.

“Guilty,” another stood, stating what he believed.

“Guilty,” a woman stood, declaring her thought.

“Guilty,” a stern man spoke.

“Guilty,” it was the same repetitive word.

“Guilty,” they just kept saying it, driving it in my mind, as if to drive me insane.

“Guilty,” it was almost as if they wanted me to confess to murder.

“Guilty,” to confess to a murder that I did not commit.

“Guilty,” they’re all wrong, I didn’t murder him.

“Guilty,” it’s not my coat, it’s not my mask, someone framed me. However, when I looked over to the last person, I had even the smallest amount of hope. My cousin stood there, staring at me. He just stared.

“Guilty,” from his lips came something I had not expected. Guilty? Was that how they saw me? My own cousin, declaring my fate before me.

“Then it is decided,” the old man spoke.

“Hold on,” my voice trembled, quietly. I couldn’t speak up, no one could hear me no matter what I said.

“This man known as Joseph Lavine is sentenced to death,” the old man stated my fate.

“Please,” I said, “Don’t do this.” I was too quiet. No one had heard me. I was breaking down right before these people, unable to do anything. Why was this happening? Don’t take me, I’m not guilty, trust me. I didn’t murder him. However, these were only thoughts now. I couldn’t speak. It was as if I were choking on my own words. My throat was in pain. Is there nothing I can do to convince them that I am not guilty? However, it was too late. I was already out of the building, being hauled off by two police officers to San Quentin. In a few minutes, I found myself entering San Quentin. I was immediately dragged off to a cell, tossed in like a piece of garbage into a dump. My handcuffs were removed. I stood slowly, dressed in a blue shirt with dark blue pants. Once a detective, now an inmate set to be killed. And for what? I have truly done nothing. I was accused of a murder that I did not commit. I was framed. Someone, please, believe me. I looked around the cell, but I found no one. There was only one bed. They gave me only one day to live until my death, so I thought of what could possibly be better than to sleep until then.

When I awoke, I found myself on the ground, still in the cell. There had been a single officer roaming the halls in which the cells were. I walked up to my cell bars and looked for anything else. I only found other cells, filled with one inmate each. Each cell had a small bookshelf filled with books, as well as a toilet, a bed, and a sink. When the officer approached my cell, he turned to me.

“What do you want your last meal to be?” he asked me.

“I don’t want one,” I said to him. He unlocked my cell and grabbed my arm, escorting me to a specific room with a chair. None other than the electric chair. If I’m going to die no matter what, I’d rather die right here right now than in a few hours. I was sat down in the chair, then bound to it by leather binds. An object had been strapped to my head. By now, I was just waiting. I stared forward, at the white, metal door in front of me. All I could do was wait. And then, a click.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 12.09.2016

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