| Mystery and Crime Fiction posted February 5, 2011 | Chapters: |
...13 14 -14- 15... 
|
  |
James and Charlie have a quiet talk
A chapter in the book The Heir Apparent
A Late Night Talk
by Sasha
| Background James returns to the hotel exhausted and immediately goes to bed. Unable to sleep, Charlie wakes him to ask some questions. Mom drops a bombshell, she plans to talk to the reporters. |
Sitting beside Mr. Hurley in the backseat of the taxi is all I remember of the ride back to the hotel. Emotionally drained, I just wanted to go to bed and sleep for the next twenty-four hours. When I entered the hotel room, I was both relieved and surprised that neither Mom nor Charlie asked about my visit with Dad. I found that curious, but it was a question that would have to wait. Not bothering to say 'hello', I stumbled into the bedroom and flopped down onto the bed. I was asleep before I closed my eyes.
* * * * * * * * *
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"James, are you awake?"
The room was dark, and despite trying to focus my eyes, I could barely see Charlie's silhouette sitting beside me. He shook me again.
"James, are you awake?"
I intentionally did not hide my irritation. "Well, I am now!"
"Sorry, but I couldn't sleep."
Why is it when a person cannot sleep, they have this uncontrollable need to wake up someone to tell them? My irritation slowly lifted as the concern in Charles's voice became clearer.
"James, I really need to talk to you. It's important."
I sat up, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and looking for the clock, asked, "What time is it?"
"It's one o'clock in the morning."
"Have you been awake all night?"
Charlie nodded. "Yeah, like I said, I can't sleep."
I chuckled. "You want me to tell you a bedtime story?"
"Come on, James, I'm serious. I need to talk to you."
I knew he was serious and that my feeble attempt at humor was poorly timed. "Sorry, give me a minute to wake up, and then we can talk all you want."
I went into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on my face. Seeing Dad this afternoon had been a complete disaster and drained me emotionally. I really did not know if I had the energy to listen to Charlie's problems, but he was having a rough time too and he needed me.
Finally awake, I returned to the bedroom, turned on the light, and sat down on the bed beside him. "Okay, you have my full attention. What's up?"
"I went to the library today to see if I could find some information on serial killers, thinking maybe I could figure out why Dad did what he did."
Charlie paused then looked at me with his big blue, puppy-dog eyes filled with confusion. 'God, James, you wouldn't believe how many books there are on serial killers. Most were horrible and only contained the ugly details of what the killer did to the victims. Few said anything about why they did such terrible things, and those that did, used words like sociopath, psychopath, and antisocial behavior that just confused me even more. James, you're the smartest person I know. Can you explain to me how someone like Dad could do something so horrible?"
Charlie loved calling me a nerd and a smart ass, but I knew he envied and admired me, not like most of the kids at school who shied away from the guy they called the 'brain.'
I put my arm around his shoulder. He was trembling.
"No one really knows why a person does such terrible things. There are lots of theories. There have even been some studies done on the subject, and the FBI has a special department called Behavioral Science that specializes in serial killers. But as far as I am concerned, they still don't have a definitive answer."
"But, there has to be a reason."
"Oh, there's a reason, but no one can agree on what it is."
Charlie looked frustrated and disappointed. His eyes begged for an answer.
"Listen Charlie, I am not an authority on the subject, but trying to label Dad a sociopath, a psychopath, or antisocial is just too simple. It is far more complicated than that.
"I'll tell you what I do know. People with antisocial behavior problems are often violent. Many have drug and alcohol problems and often have no regard for the rights of others. I guess you could say Smithy, the kid at your school who's always picking fights, cussing out the teachers, and smoking a joint in the bathroom every day could be considered a person with antisocial traits. These people, more often than not, stand out in a crowd."
Charlie nodded. "Yeah, okay. But that doesn't sound like Dad."
I agreed.
"A psychopath can have antisocial traits, but their behavior is considerably more extreme. They are especially prone to violent and criminal offenses, lack empathy and remorse, and have no moral conscience."
"This doesn't sound like Dad either."
I wasn't as sure. There was clearly a lot about Dad I didn't know.
"A sociopath is more adept at feigning their emotions. They can appear calm, when in fact they are filled with rage. They are natural chameleons. They can change their image to fit any situation, allowing them to blend into society very well. You could be in a room filled with sociopaths, and not have a clue. They appear completely normal. They are oblivious to the devastation they cause. A sociopath will never accept responsibility for what he does. They always blame others. Many believe they are all-powerful, all knowing, and entitled to anything they want. Many are charming, yet are covertly hostile and domineering, seeing their victims as merely an instrument to be used. They may dominate and humiliate their victims. However, it's important to know, not all sociopaths become serial killers."
Looking completely beaten and ready to cry, Charlie asked, "Where does Dad fit into all of this?"
I looked at Charlie and wished more than anything that I wasn't having this conversation. "Dad could be a sociopath, but I honestly don't know. We only know the Dad he wanted us to see. You know, the control freak and the asshole. We never saw or knew the real Dad."
Grandma and Grandpa died before we were born. I knew very little about Dad's childhood, other than what he told us. He was an only child so we didn't have any aunts or uncles to talk to.
Charlie still looked confused. "What do you know about serial killers?"
Without thinking, I blurted out, "Well, I can say with a certain amount of confidence, we have one in the family."
Charlie didn't find my sarcasm funny and neither did I. "Sorry, I don't mean to be flippant, sometimes I speak before I think.
"To answer your question, there are basically three types of serial killers. Actually there are four if you include spree killers, but they fall into a completely different category—depending on who you talk to or which article you read. The first are thrill seekers who enjoy outsmarting law enforcement. They think of it as a game. They like the media attention, the police pursuit, and evading the authorities. They send messages and keep records. Dennis Rader, BTK, was a thrill seeker and the Zodiac killer was probably one, too.
"The second is 'mission oriented'. They feel they are doing society a favor by eliminating certain people, like drug users, prostitutes, the homeless, or drunks. Gary Ridgway, the Green River Killer, claimed he was doing society a favor.
"The last is 'power and control'. They enjoy the victim's terror and suffering. Ted Bundy, Henry Lee Lucas, and John Wayne Gacy enjoyed the power and control they had over their victims."
Charlie and I looked at each other without speaking. Horrible as it was to admit, it seemed to both of us that Dad fell into this category.
"Some serial killers keep souvenirs; personal items that allow them to enjoy the memories of the crime. Others keep trophies they make into a shrine."
Charlie stared at the floor. "Dad kept souvenirs."
"Yes, Charlie, he did."
Charlie laid his head on my shoulder. "What did Tommy mean when he said he couldn't talk to me because his father said it was in our genes?"
My tolerance for stupidity was never very high but ignorance infuriated me.
"Tommy's father is an idiot who thinks we carry the 'serial killer' gene and believes when we grow up we will be just like Dad."
Shocked and obviously worried, Charlie sat up and demanded to know if that was true.
"Hell, no! There is absolutely no scientific proof a 'serial killer gene' exists. As far as I am concerned, it is a load of crap."
"James, how do you know so much? Where does all your information come from?"
I chuckled. "I don't know. There's a lot of stuff rattling around in my head and I have no idea where most of it comes from."
Charlie didn't say anything. He climbed back into bed and turned his back to me. I turned out the light and lay on my back, wide-awake, and wondering why Charlie still didn't ask about my meeting with Dad.
* * * * * *
Although we had plenty of time, Mom was in a frenzy. It was only twelve-thirty and we didn't have to be at the hospital until two o'clock. Mom had been on the phone earlier with Marilyn, Susan's nurse, and was excited to learn there was a noticeable improvement in Susan's awareness. She was talking more and had even expressed her anger over Billy's betrayal. This was a very good sign. Susan had yet to mention Dad. Mom reminded us that it was up to Susan to let us know when she was ready to talk about him.
Mom was also excited because she had arranged to meet with a real estate agent later to look at three houses for rent in the Kirkland and Bellevue area. Both were close to Seattle, but far enough away to allow us some semblance of privacy.
Then Mom dropped the bombshell.
"Mr. Hurley and I have talked, and we have decided it is time for me to make a public statement."
Both Charlie and I were shocked. How could we possibly keep a low profile if Mom spoke to the media? I thought it was an insane idea and I didn't hesitate to express my displeasure. "Why in the hell would you want to do that?"
"The prosecutor is about to announce his decision on whether or not to accept your father's plea bargain. No matter what he decides, there will be a lot of unhappy people. If he accepts it, people are going to be angry and say your Dad got off too easy. If he says no, others are going to be angry because the prosecutor will be seen as denying closure for the families of the six victims. Mr. Hurley and I think the public needs to know where we stand before the shit hits the fan."
Mom's choice of words caught me off guard. The quiet, soft-spoken Mother I previously knew had changed considerably in the span of a single week.
Making a point of not hiding the sarcasm in my voice, I asked, "Do you honestly think telling the public you are for or against the death penalty is going to win us some fans?"
"No, James, that's not what I am going to do. I plan to tell them I am shocked, angry, and horrified over what John has done. I need to apologize to the victims' families and tell them I pray for them every day. But most importantly, I want people to know I will accept whatever punishment the justice system deems appropriate for your father and that I will not say or do anything to try to influence their decision."
I didn't want to admit it, but Mom was beginning to make sense.
"James, we have been silent too long. The public has already judged us. I doubt there is anything I can say that will change anyone's opinion of us. However, I do think it is time we stop hiding and step up to the plate. If for no other reason, we owe that much to the victim's families."
I understood Mom's point. Maybe it was time to speak up. I doubted she would agree, but if Mom was going to make a speech, I was going to make one, too.
I was right. Mom did not agree.
"Absolutely not! You and Charlie are not going anywhere near the reporters!"
"Sorry Mom, but I'm doing it with or without your permission."
Angry, Mom stomped her foot and pounded her fist onto the table. "I said no and that is final!"
I looked at Mom, and in a determined voice said, "I've made my decision, so let's move on to something else."
Mom threw her hands into the air and stomped her foot again. However, before she could respond, we heard a loud knock at the door. When Charlie opened it, we were all surprised to see Aunt Emily and Uncle Martin, Mom's sister and brother-in-law, standing in the doorway holding two very large suitcases.
PLEASE NOTE: GARY RIDGWAY is spelled without an "E".
* * * * * * * * *
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"James, are you awake?"
The room was dark, and despite trying to focus my eyes, I could barely see Charlie's silhouette sitting beside me. He shook me again.
"James, are you awake?"
I intentionally did not hide my irritation. "Well, I am now!"
"Sorry, but I couldn't sleep."
Why is it when a person cannot sleep, they have this uncontrollable need to wake up someone to tell them? My irritation slowly lifted as the concern in Charles's voice became clearer.
"James, I really need to talk to you. It's important."
I sat up, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and looking for the clock, asked, "What time is it?"
"It's one o'clock in the morning."
"Have you been awake all night?"
Charlie nodded. "Yeah, like I said, I can't sleep."
I chuckled. "You want me to tell you a bedtime story?"
"Come on, James, I'm serious. I need to talk to you."
I knew he was serious and that my feeble attempt at humor was poorly timed. "Sorry, give me a minute to wake up, and then we can talk all you want."
I went into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on my face. Seeing Dad this afternoon had been a complete disaster and drained me emotionally. I really did not know if I had the energy to listen to Charlie's problems, but he was having a rough time too and he needed me.
Finally awake, I returned to the bedroom, turned on the light, and sat down on the bed beside him. "Okay, you have my full attention. What's up?"
"I went to the library today to see if I could find some information on serial killers, thinking maybe I could figure out why Dad did what he did."
Charlie paused then looked at me with his big blue, puppy-dog eyes filled with confusion. 'God, James, you wouldn't believe how many books there are on serial killers. Most were horrible and only contained the ugly details of what the killer did to the victims. Few said anything about why they did such terrible things, and those that did, used words like sociopath, psychopath, and antisocial behavior that just confused me even more. James, you're the smartest person I know. Can you explain to me how someone like Dad could do something so horrible?"
Charlie loved calling me a nerd and a smart ass, but I knew he envied and admired me, not like most of the kids at school who shied away from the guy they called the 'brain.'
I put my arm around his shoulder. He was trembling.
"No one really knows why a person does such terrible things. There are lots of theories. There have even been some studies done on the subject, and the FBI has a special department called Behavioral Science that specializes in serial killers. But as far as I am concerned, they still don't have a definitive answer."
"But, there has to be a reason."
"Oh, there's a reason, but no one can agree on what it is."
Charlie looked frustrated and disappointed. His eyes begged for an answer.
"Listen Charlie, I am not an authority on the subject, but trying to label Dad a sociopath, a psychopath, or antisocial is just too simple. It is far more complicated than that.
"I'll tell you what I do know. People with antisocial behavior problems are often violent. Many have drug and alcohol problems and often have no regard for the rights of others. I guess you could say Smithy, the kid at your school who's always picking fights, cussing out the teachers, and smoking a joint in the bathroom every day could be considered a person with antisocial traits. These people, more often than not, stand out in a crowd."
Charlie nodded. "Yeah, okay. But that doesn't sound like Dad."
I agreed.
"A psychopath can have antisocial traits, but their behavior is considerably more extreme. They are especially prone to violent and criminal offenses, lack empathy and remorse, and have no moral conscience."
"This doesn't sound like Dad either."
I wasn't as sure. There was clearly a lot about Dad I didn't know.
"A sociopath is more adept at feigning their emotions. They can appear calm, when in fact they are filled with rage. They are natural chameleons. They can change their image to fit any situation, allowing them to blend into society very well. You could be in a room filled with sociopaths, and not have a clue. They appear completely normal. They are oblivious to the devastation they cause. A sociopath will never accept responsibility for what he does. They always blame others. Many believe they are all-powerful, all knowing, and entitled to anything they want. Many are charming, yet are covertly hostile and domineering, seeing their victims as merely an instrument to be used. They may dominate and humiliate their victims. However, it's important to know, not all sociopaths become serial killers."
Looking completely beaten and ready to cry, Charlie asked, "Where does Dad fit into all of this?"
I looked at Charlie and wished more than anything that I wasn't having this conversation. "Dad could be a sociopath, but I honestly don't know. We only know the Dad he wanted us to see. You know, the control freak and the asshole. We never saw or knew the real Dad."
Grandma and Grandpa died before we were born. I knew very little about Dad's childhood, other than what he told us. He was an only child so we didn't have any aunts or uncles to talk to.
Charlie still looked confused. "What do you know about serial killers?"
Without thinking, I blurted out, "Well, I can say with a certain amount of confidence, we have one in the family."
Charlie didn't find my sarcasm funny and neither did I. "Sorry, I don't mean to be flippant, sometimes I speak before I think.
"To answer your question, there are basically three types of serial killers. Actually there are four if you include spree killers, but they fall into a completely different category—depending on who you talk to or which article you read. The first are thrill seekers who enjoy outsmarting law enforcement. They think of it as a game. They like the media attention, the police pursuit, and evading the authorities. They send messages and keep records. Dennis Rader, BTK, was a thrill seeker and the Zodiac killer was probably one, too.
"The second is 'mission oriented'. They feel they are doing society a favor by eliminating certain people, like drug users, prostitutes, the homeless, or drunks. Gary Ridgway, the Green River Killer, claimed he was doing society a favor.
"The last is 'power and control'. They enjoy the victim's terror and suffering. Ted Bundy, Henry Lee Lucas, and John Wayne Gacy enjoyed the power and control they had over their victims."
Charlie and I looked at each other without speaking. Horrible as it was to admit, it seemed to both of us that Dad fell into this category.
"Some serial killers keep souvenirs; personal items that allow them to enjoy the memories of the crime. Others keep trophies they make into a shrine."
Charlie stared at the floor. "Dad kept souvenirs."
"Yes, Charlie, he did."
Charlie laid his head on my shoulder. "What did Tommy mean when he said he couldn't talk to me because his father said it was in our genes?"
My tolerance for stupidity was never very high but ignorance infuriated me.
"Tommy's father is an idiot who thinks we carry the 'serial killer' gene and believes when we grow up we will be just like Dad."
Shocked and obviously worried, Charlie sat up and demanded to know if that was true.
"Hell, no! There is absolutely no scientific proof a 'serial killer gene' exists. As far as I am concerned, it is a load of crap."
"James, how do you know so much? Where does all your information come from?"
I chuckled. "I don't know. There's a lot of stuff rattling around in my head and I have no idea where most of it comes from."
Charlie didn't say anything. He climbed back into bed and turned his back to me. I turned out the light and lay on my back, wide-awake, and wondering why Charlie still didn't ask about my meeting with Dad.
* * * * * *
Although we had plenty of time, Mom was in a frenzy. It was only twelve-thirty and we didn't have to be at the hospital until two o'clock. Mom had been on the phone earlier with Marilyn, Susan's nurse, and was excited to learn there was a noticeable improvement in Susan's awareness. She was talking more and had even expressed her anger over Billy's betrayal. This was a very good sign. Susan had yet to mention Dad. Mom reminded us that it was up to Susan to let us know when she was ready to talk about him.
Mom was also excited because she had arranged to meet with a real estate agent later to look at three houses for rent in the Kirkland and Bellevue area. Both were close to Seattle, but far enough away to allow us some semblance of privacy.
Then Mom dropped the bombshell.
"Mr. Hurley and I have talked, and we have decided it is time for me to make a public statement."
Both Charlie and I were shocked. How could we possibly keep a low profile if Mom spoke to the media? I thought it was an insane idea and I didn't hesitate to express my displeasure. "Why in the hell would you want to do that?"
"The prosecutor is about to announce his decision on whether or not to accept your father's plea bargain. No matter what he decides, there will be a lot of unhappy people. If he accepts it, people are going to be angry and say your Dad got off too easy. If he says no, others are going to be angry because the prosecutor will be seen as denying closure for the families of the six victims. Mr. Hurley and I think the public needs to know where we stand before the shit hits the fan."
Mom's choice of words caught me off guard. The quiet, soft-spoken Mother I previously knew had changed considerably in the span of a single week.
Making a point of not hiding the sarcasm in my voice, I asked, "Do you honestly think telling the public you are for or against the death penalty is going to win us some fans?"
"No, James, that's not what I am going to do. I plan to tell them I am shocked, angry, and horrified over what John has done. I need to apologize to the victims' families and tell them I pray for them every day. But most importantly, I want people to know I will accept whatever punishment the justice system deems appropriate for your father and that I will not say or do anything to try to influence their decision."
I didn't want to admit it, but Mom was beginning to make sense.
"James, we have been silent too long. The public has already judged us. I doubt there is anything I can say that will change anyone's opinion of us. However, I do think it is time we stop hiding and step up to the plate. If for no other reason, we owe that much to the victim's families."
I understood Mom's point. Maybe it was time to speak up. I doubted she would agree, but if Mom was going to make a speech, I was going to make one, too.
I was right. Mom did not agree.
"Absolutely not! You and Charlie are not going anywhere near the reporters!"
"Sorry Mom, but I'm doing it with or without your permission."
Angry, Mom stomped her foot and pounded her fist onto the table. "I said no and that is final!"
I looked at Mom, and in a determined voice said, "I've made my decision, so let's move on to something else."
Mom threw her hands into the air and stomped her foot again. However, before she could respond, we heard a loud knock at the door. When Charlie opened it, we were all surprised to see Aunt Emily and Uncle Martin, Mom's sister and brother-in-law, standing in the doorway holding two very large suitcases.
PLEASE NOTE: GARY RIDGWAY is spelled without an "E".
 Recognized |
|
James Mathews is not your typical eighteen-year-old boy. He has an IQ of 190 that not only makes him smarter than most adults he knows, it makes developing friends his own age next to impossible. His photographic memory has turned him into a walking, talking library. Waking one day to discover his father is the infamous Belltown Killer, turns James's life into a living hell. He reluctantly becomes friends with Mac, the lead Detective on the case. Together, they discover more unsolved murders and James is faced with the choice of continuing his search for the truth, or simply turning a blind eye.
Sorry about the long chapter but I just couldn't find a place to break without loosing the flow. Also, it has been pointed out, and rightly so, that I interchange the term 'serial killer' and 'serial murderer/er' throughout this book. Law enforcement usually uses the term 'serial murder/er' while the general public more often uses 'serial killer'. It is for this reason that when Mac is speaking, he will more often than not say 'serial murder/er' while James and his family will sometimes say 'killer'. I have noticed in my research that reporters, both newspaper and television, prefer the term 'killer', most likely because the word killer seems to convey a stronger image...whether this is true or not doesn't seem to matter to them.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Sorry about the long chapter but I just couldn't find a place to break without loosing the flow. Also, it has been pointed out, and rightly so, that I interchange the term 'serial killer' and 'serial murderer/er' throughout this book. Law enforcement usually uses the term 'serial murder/er' while the general public more often uses 'serial killer'. It is for this reason that when Mac is speaking, he will more often than not say 'serial murder/er' while James and his family will sometimes say 'killer'. I have noticed in my research that reporters, both newspaper and television, prefer the term 'killer', most likely because the word killer seems to convey a stronger image...whether this is true or not doesn't seem to matter to them.
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. Sasha All rights reserved.
Sasha has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
