“It was Monday morning dated 27th
July; I was seated at the steel chair meant for prime suspects. The morning was
gloomy before I was arrested and now it was almost midday and I had no clue of
what the circumstances were. My hands were cuffed, so I could barely move, a
table in front of me, a clock on the wall adjacent to the table and a big mirror
right in front of my face to stare all day long, making my situation no less
than a thanksgiving turkey. I heard some officers murmuring about the room I
was placed in and what floated up to my ears was the word “INTERROGATION ROOM”.
I wore a black tuxedo suit which was merely to impress the health minister in
the meeting scheduled earlier this morning, and with my absence I can clearly
picture the scenario at my office and surprisingly it amused me. Since my
seizure was quite unforeseen, I wasn’t able to apprise the authorities
regarding the condition I was grasped in. Another thought that bothered me was
the conversation that was about to take place between an officer and me and as this
was my maiden experience at a Police station; I adjudicated that an initial
preparation won’t do any harm. I started planning my answers and begin
analyzing the questions that might be asked. I was en route in doing so, when
out of the blue the front door unlatched and a gentleman stormed in and
notified me of his occupation. The officer wore a khaki full sleeved shirt and
a black waist coat. He had a decent facial outlook, blonde hairs and golden curls
on either side of his face. He carried a dozen files on one hand whereas a cup
of cold coffee in the other. He propped the files and the coffee neatly on his
left and right side respectively, dragged the chair backward and settle
himself, which was followed by placing both his hands on the table and looking
directly into my eyes.
“Well Mr. Scott, How are you feelin this mornin?” He finally uttered, his
question had a meaningful impact on me, as I was completely taken by surprise.
I was expecting a more interrogative question, nevertheless it was a good sign
and I was relaxed. “Fine, I guess” I announced trying to be casual. He nodded
slightly and returned back to the files he brought, I was quite bewildered by
this whole arrest thing and the arrival of this gentleman stimulated my urge of
finding suitable answers. “Why the hell did you guys brought me here? I had a
meeting with the health minister this morning and thanks to you my job might be
in jeopardy” I roared in a single breath. He shifted his eyes from the files to
my face, “Did you read the newspaper this morning?” He catechized in a polite
tone, “Well you guys didn’t gave me a chance to read one” I replied
sarcastically, “When was the last time you read a newspaper?” he demanded to
know, “I have been busy with my office work lately, Why?”, “So you haven’t read
the newspaper and neither used the internet nor have any notion of the city’s
Law and Order situation? He exclaimed and this time the tone was dominant.
“I’ve mentioned earlier regarding my meeting with the health minister and that
became the reason as to why I didn’t socialized the past week” I protested. He
stared me for moment and then delivered, “So you know nothing about the
murders?” He questioned, “MURDERS?” I gulped “What murders?” I asked trembling
in fear. “Mr. Kevin Scott, 12 murders were committed in the past week, the
entire Los Angeles is surrounded by terror and the authorities are furious, and
I am afraid to say that the LAPD have strong evidence confirming your direct
involvement in these crimes”. His words took my breath away and for a moment I
felt that I no longer had ground under my feet and the only thought that clung in
my mind was to find a way out. I kept goggling at the table in shock as I could
not fathom out a way to respond over these appalling implications. “Mr. Scott!”
I didn’t respond, “MR.SCOTT!” I yanked my neck to look up to the officer with
my dilated eye balls and quickly understood that the reason that my name was
pronounced with such high audibility was to bring back my conscious. “Here are
some pictures taken at the murder site. Do you recognize anyone?” He quizzed by
thrusting the file towards me, and after catching a glimpse of those
horrifying, bleeding, and dreadful bodies in those pictures, I was somehow
relieved as I didn’t know anyone in those pictures and I returned back the file
in the same manner by saying, “Sorry but I don’t think I know anyone”. “Are you
sure Mr. Scott?” He asked triggering the anger and frustration boiling inside
me, “What the hell do you mean that if I am sure or not?? You know what I would
really like to speak with my lawyer now” I shouted insanely at the officer. He
pulled himself up, sat back at his chair and sighed, “We have already tried to
contact your lawyer Mr. Scott but I am afraid that his cell phone was switched
off the whole time” His reply didn’t astonish me since my lawyer kept the
legacy of being absent whenever I needed him alive. He paused, and then
resumed, “I am really sorry for you but I am afraid my hands are tied and I
can’t do anything more”. He stood up taking his files and his barely touched
coffee cup with him and left the room leaving me with my own agony.
I woke up next morning worn out and frustrated by the prisoner cells I was kept
in to spend my grim night. I barely blinked the entire night and the damp
weather caused unbearable ache in my back. I laid there until an officer
started beating the Iron Gate with his black rod usually used to bring down
untamed thugs. “Rise and shine mister!! Detective Donner will have a word with
you”. I stood up to get ready for another encounter with Donner and
astonishingly I felt prepared.
I was escorted to the same room where I was initially interrogated by Donner by
a junior officer and about-to-be detective. As I entered the room, Donner stood
at the right side of the main entrance to the room. The junior officer also
followed me inside but Donner stipulated him that his job was done, he nodded
and went away. A chair was placed there, considering my presence which was
preoccupied. I sat silently and waited for Donner to utter. “Trouble sleepin?”
inquired Donner after clearing his throat; I was quite frustrated over this
question but still managed a reply, “Yeah sort off…Well what’s the catch?” “The
Catch Mr. Scott is that after studying your case thoroughly, our forensic
experts have concluded that the culprit might carry a psychological disorder”
He stared at me with absolutely no expression or indication. “So?” I replied as
simply and uninhibitedly as I could. “I may ask you to prepare yourself for an
interview with Dr. Albert Jagelski”, I looked down at that same table again and
resumed thinking. Donner realized that further conservation won’t bring any
good and so he did what every mature gentleman would at that instant, Left.
It had been put in the picture for me that Dr. Jagelski would arrive in an hour
or so and I was instructed to wait till his arrival. That whole hour felt like
a lifetime, I felt ignored, rejected, worthless and it seemed as if the air
particles felt it below their dignity to enter my nostrils and let my lungs
respire. Somehow the hour passed and it was five minutes up when a short heighted,
partially bald, elderly man entered wildly through the already opened door
mumbling in an unknown language. He wore a grayish-black, three piece suit with
an old faded tie that matched the suit perfectly. He hurried towards the chair
and was quick in ensconcing himself. As soon as his cord was at ease, he
finally decided to greet me with a smile. He had a couple of papers with him
and he continued turning one page, then the other. It lasted for several
seconds when finally he spoke, “My name is Dr. Albert William Jagelski, I have
been assigned your case and informed that there is a high risk that you might
be carrying a mental disorder” He paused, and then resumed, “But observing your
interrogation video and your initial turn out in LAPD’s custody, I can’t think
of any possible disorder but one.” It was absurd, totally absurd I yelled
inside my mind and wanted to throw up these dialogues at his face but two days
of less speaking created a barrier before my mouth and all I could say was,
“And how can you say that?”, “We interviewed people closely associated with you
and we have drawn the inference that you might have Cenophanysis”, “Ceno-phe
what? What the hell is it?” I yelled, angrily. “Mr. Scott, after interviewing
with your office colleagues we found out that you occasionally complain about
your nightmares and insomnia”, “Thousands of people have nightmares, are they
all psychos? “No but a person being involved in 12 murders might be” I remained
silent and allowed him to conclude the argument. “What you have Mr. Scott” He
began “Is an amalgam of Dissociative Identity disorder and Short-term memory
loss. This disease is quite rare, and is found in one among millions and in
some parts of the world the percentage is even lesser. In simple language in
this disease the patient may commit something and might not remember it.” This was
way more than I’d anticipated and this good-for-nothing discussion has to meet
its end. “So you suggest that I have committed those murders and don’t remember
it?” “Well that’s one way of saying it, but medically it is termed as
Cenophanysis” God knew I’d no idea of what he was telling me, but I was sure of
one thing that I am about to get really screwed. I decided to try something
else that may bring me out of this crap, “look sir I really appreciate your
concern, but on what grounds does LAPD and your forensic experts consider me as
the culprit and what prove you do you guys have?” He grinned, “Mr. Scott same
knife was repeatedly used to assassinate all twelve people in those pictures
you saw. And the only fingerprints we found on that knife was yours, so don’t
you demand prove here, we’ve got plenty”. And there went my last and final
hope, but despite that I struggled to ask him hopelessly, “So what next?” He
sighed in disappointment, looked down at his feet, adjusted his glasses and
then rebuked “We’ve spoken with your lawyer and have arbitrated that you must
be transferred to the nearest mental facility.” I looked at him with bulging
eyes and pitiful face, but that was of no use since he had no jurisdiction
beyond suggesting what’s best for me and other mentally ill criminals. “Since
putting you in Prison might prove risky for you and for other criminals there,
so we all suggested that you’ll be better off with professional supervision” I
grinned miserably and nodded, in order to indicate that I’ve accepted my bitter
fate. He stood up by adjusting his tie and plucking the papers he brought, and
spoke “You’ll be transferred to the facility tomorrow, Detective Donner, your
Lawyer Mr. Keith McIntyre and I will be present to escort you safely.” I
remained silent and allowed him to decamp from the room implicitly, whereas I
was taken back to my cell for spending another glum night.
The Next morning, I was up early and to my surprise there were a lot more
people in the station than usually present at this hour of the day. I pulled
myself up, rubbed my eyes, yawned for like a minute and finally stood up to
discern the gravity of the situation. There were a number of strangely dressed
workers hastening and the amount of police officers was almost twice as greater
as in routine days. I thought to inquire about the scenario I was witnessing
but before I could do that, Dr Jagelski came walking through the corridor “It’s
tough to digest, when one finds out that all these people are working for him”
He started speaking before he could reach my cell, “How was your night Mr.
Scott?” He asked “Fine, I guess” I paused and then resumed “Why are these workers
here” I demanded out of curiosity, “Oh them they are from the facility you are
about to be transferred.” “Oh yeah..I nearly forgot” I replied with moist eyes
which he clearly saw. He placed his hand on my shoulder out of sympathy and
replied “I know this is a hard time for you but eventually you’ll have to face
it, and it depends on you whether you face it with an open chest or with an open
back.” No matter how much I protested but I have to accept the fact that his
words did lighten me up and brought me hope. “Here take it” He handed me an
orange outfit for those at the facility, “Put this on, after which you’ll be
brought to the van outside where Donner, McIntyre and I will take you to the
facility” He ended with smile, and I nodded in agreement with him.
I wore the dress quickly, and was taken by four men at the van waiting outside
the station. Two men completely armed and marched in front of me whereas two at
my back, and as soon as I stepped out the station a mob of young reporters,
carrying cameras and holding mikes attacked me and started yelling at me, all
at the same time. Since I found it feasible not to comment I abide by my
decision and headed straight towards the van and quickly threw myself in. My
lawyer Keith and Dr. Albert were already in, whereas Donner was indulged
obstructing the mob. He quickly floundered himself in and ordered the van
driver to move. I could see reporters running beside the van managing to acquire
some words that they might utilize to increase their ratings. The Van took us
straight to the facility without stopping anywhere and throughout our journey I
only imagined my life at the facility. We soon reached our destination, I heard
the iron gates sliding, and saw the staff members as I stepped down. They all
felt enthusiastic, determined and hopeful and on the other hand I was Sad,
grieved and circumvented since I was about to enter the Darkest Chapter of my
book of destiny.
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