Serial Killer

 

“Do you want to know what’s in a serial killers mind? First let me tell you what I know you are thinkin’. Shattered fragments of a once rational mind, fed up with the system and BOOM, I pop, right? Or is it the genetic misfortune? Born with the serial killer gene and the future is inevitable, no? Let me tell you what’s not up here so we can line it down a bit. First of all I don’t give a s**t about animals, can’t care less about the wretched b*****s, just as long as they don’t pee in my shoes or s**t on my porch. But when one m**********r comes and take a dump in my backyard, hell, I get pissed. Guess that rules out the Bundy profile. Second, I had loving parents and I played in the college football team, fresh p***y every night, you bet. And third, I don’t work at the post office and even though the system isn’t flawless, it’s the best option around so far. Ran out of typical profile sheets? Good, because there are none! Everyone can have a bad day, but only few of us decide to do something about it.”

 

“My name is Walter and I have a different hobby.”

The two detectives watched each other in silence before the older one leaned in over the table with his face only a few inches from his own. He could feel the hasty breathing of the detective on his face. “You think this is a game? You think killing people is fun!”

“Let me tell you what I think”, he said and leaned back in the chair. “First of all I think that you somehow think that you manage to catch me, when I in fact turned myself in. Secondly you can cut that good cop, bad cop tactics cuz I’ve seen the movies and in fact I don’t bite. And third but most important, I think you should switch mouthwash, cuz whoever bought you that s**t duped you good.

The younger detective standing in the shade further away seemed to smile as his partner leaned back, caught off guard by the later comment. But he quickly recovered. “Now listen here you little s**t, unless you start giving us the right answers and stop your freakin’ counting you’ll visit the chair before the end of this week!”

“Then start asking the right questions.”

As the older detective was about to hurl another volley of insults, the other laid a hand on his shoulder and cut him off.

“Cool it Marwin, I’ll handle this”, he said and then turned to the man in the suit sitting behind the desk. “Walter, Walter Byrne, that’s you right?”

“Correct.”

“I’m detective Farwell, and believe me when I tell you that I’m the only one in this building who doesn’t want you fried without a reasonable explanation.”

Walter remained quiet so the detective continued. “Will you please tell us why you killed all those people?”

“I will, in due time.”

Again detective Marwin was about to intervene, but was stopped by Farwell.

“Then I suggest that you return to your cell and prepare tomorrows speech, because time’s running out.” He circled the desk and escorted Walter out of the cramped room and through the long corridors of the police-station till they reached his all too familiar cell.

“Am I grounded”, Walter said as the detective was about to close the door.

He smiled. “Better keep that humour of yours, you’re gonna need it.”

 

There were no lights in the cell and it stank of urine and vomit. A chamber pot lay on its side in the corner of the room and it didn’t seem that any of the previous tenants had bothered to use it. There were no windows and the only light that sipped into the room came from the crack under the door. He sat down and leaned against the wall. Had he really done something wrong? He dismissed the thought rather quick. They had it coming.

 

 

He woke up as the door slammed open and three officers entered the room.

“Get up shithead!” One of them said and kicked him in the side. None of the others objected and if they hadn’t had police uniforms he would be worried, but he didn’t blame them, a cop-killer was never popular among cops. They grabbed his arms and hauled him back to the interrogation room from the day before and forced him down on the chair behind the desk. Farwell was standing in the room waiting for him with a cup of coffee in his hand. He sipped on his coffee carefully and waited for the officers to leave the room. For a while Farwell just continued sipping and watched him without saying anything. This was the first time Walter felt puzzled over what was happening.

“Want a cup of coffee?” Farwell asked after a few minutes of silence.

“No thanks”, he said.

“You sure? Gets you going for the whole day. Me, I can’t function properly without my morning coffee, need to have it. Guess that’s the only thing I can’t do without, except for my wife of course.”

He was beginning to understand were this was going, but he remained silent, so Farwell continued. “You ever had a loved one in your life? Except for the flings you told us about yesterday of course.” He smiled as Walter remained silent. “Not to talkative today I see, sure you don’t want that cup of coffee?”

“Yes, I’m sure”, Walter said.

“Guess your urge in life differs a whole lot from mine. You take lives, I prefer coffee.”

“Ever shot a man?” Walter asked and watched the detective struggle for words. Now it was Walters turn to push. “How do you justify your murders? How do they differ from mine? Does your uniform give you the right to kill?” He was hailing questions too fast for the detective to even answer, and even if had had time he doubted that he could. Instead Farwell tried to counter with a question of his own. “Sergeant Ruso was a respected figure among the force and among his friends, why did you kill him!”

“Was he?”

“Yes! I knew him personally and he was a great friend of mine.”

“Did you?”

“Wipe that smirk of your face and stop giving me questions, this ain’t the f*****g Jeopardy and here I ask the questions. Got it!”

“Got it”, Walter replied calmly.

“Now let us take it from the beginning and enough with your games!” Farwell fell quiet for a while, trying to recover from the outburst and calm himself down. “Why did you kill all those people?”

“Let me answer that with a question if I may, because the answer isn’t simple.”

“Go ahead”, Farwell said.

“What would you do if you came home and saw your wife being murdered, would you kill the murderer or bring him in for questioning?”

Farwell thought for a minute before saying, “I would bring him in and let him be judged by the court.”

“Fair enough, then what if he killed your children too?”

This time the answer came quicker. “I would still bring him in.”

“Okay, even though I doubt that I will ask you a final question.”

“Go ahead”, Farwell said.

“What if the killer walked?”

“You mean if the court found him innocent?”

“Yes.”

“That would never happen.”

“Are you that naïve?”

Farwell answered his comment with yet another question. “So you’re telling me all your victims were murderers?” The tone of his voice clearly showed that he didn’t believe that one bit.

“Yes I am.”

“Bruno Calves?”

“Drug dealer, sold heroine to kids. The o.d’s at Utah High was his doing, were freed by court no doubt due to his relation with a respected figure among the society.”

“Amanda Schepps?”

“A forty two year old prostitute that had aids, who knows how many she’s infected. Need I say that she had rather intimate photos of yet another high official that kept her out of trouble?”

“Sergeant Ruso?”

“Robert Ruso sold arms from the back of his truck to local gang members. Immune to court because of his badge.”

“Are you expecting me to believe that?”

“I’m not expecting anything; I’m answering your questions.”

Farwell was quiet and seemed to consider something before he left the room.

Walter was brought back to his cell.

 

He remained there for a couple of hours before the door opened and he once again was brought to the interrogation room. Farwell was sitting on a chair adjacent to his and had a bundle of papers on the desk in front of him.

“You were right about Sergeant Ruso”, he said as Walter got seated and the door closed. “We found a small arsenal in the trunk of an unregistered car on his lot.”

Walter only nodded.

“You live on Ebon Street, right?”

“Number 34, but you know this already.”

Farwell smiled. “Did you know Suzanne Williams?”

Walter didn’t answer so the detective continued. “Suzanne Williams, shot near her home on Ebon Street, Marsh 24.”

“There were two victims.” Walter said quietly as Farwell started to browse through his papers.

“Evan Williams, expected to be born in the mid of June”, Walter said in a muffled voice. “Suzanne was caught in a gang shootout with weapons bought from regular distributor.”

“Robert Ruso?” Farwell asked softly.

Walter nodded.

 

It was a closed hearing and the victim was sentenced to death in the electric chair. The sentence was executed only two months after the trail and the people cheered as another murderer was put off the streets, and their city was safe again. The only objection came from a detective that no longer works within the force.

Reviews

[Jamie Fantasy]

Wow. I am in absolute awe right now. Wow.

You have such an incredible talent for making people look at a situation in a completely different light. With something that would normally get a straight-forward response, you get behind that and analyze it and make people realize that not all is as it seems. In this story you tackle a tough topic, a topic that many people feel controversy over and a topic that people feel strongly about. It makes you wonder if you're looking at all the angles in every decision that you make.

I truly hope that make a difference one day with your writing. Please continue to put your work out there because the world needs truth like yours.

[Jenn Wathen]

Wow... that was kind of funny but really good I usually don't like mysteries but this is really good! Keep writing you have a real talent! :)

[Marth47]

I love how Walter seemed like a serial killer with an attitude until I got towards the end. That was surprising.

[Coffee & Rain]

Wow that was really enjoyable. And this really made you think.