Jamie
Friday, January 17th
"Why didn't you tell us that Andrew had come to see you?" Det. Benson asked. We were in the interrogation room. I touched the ring that Josh's mom had given me.
"I couldn't. I. . . I told you about the rape. I didn't think I had to tell you anything else."
"When did he come to see you?"
"A couple of days before Josh was killed. He came to school. I didn't know what to do."
"Did he say anything?" Det. Stabler asked.
"He smiled at me. Josh was there. I guess Andrew didn't want to say anything in front of him."
"Did you ever see him and Josh talk?" Det. Benson asked.
"No. But I know that he called Josh. He called me as well, but I got his number blocked. I don't know exactly how he got Josh's number."
"What happened the day Josh was killed?"
I felt my stomach knot up. It was time to tell everything. "Josh was distracted. I asked him about it, and he told me that he was going to meet with someone later. I put two and two together. I confronted him. He admitted it. I begged him not to, but Josh. . . he was so stubborn. He wanted to make Andrew pay for what he did. He. . . was like that. He cared about me. He was my knight in shining armour. Before him, I had so many guys treat me like crap. But he was so different. It wasn't like with everyone else with him. I've never been the prettiest, or the smartest, or the skinniest, but with him, I was. It didn't matter that I wasn't perfect. He just took me as I was." I touched my face, and realised I was crying.
"Can you ID him in a line-up?"
I swallowed hard. "I see his face every time I close my eyes. I'll ID him whenever you have him."
"We've arrested him for your rape. We're working on him for Josh's murder."
I looked down, my eyes filled with tears. "You think he killed Josh?"
"I think so."
I knew that he did it. I had known it for a long time. But when she said that, I just lost it. Josh had been killed because of me. It was my fault that he was dead. That he'd never got to university, or get married. He'd never get to grow up. And because he wouldn't, I would. Andrew could have killed me just as easily.
"So what happens. . . if he did do it?"
"We'll arrest him, and he'll go on trial. If they find him guilty, he could be looking at the death penalty."
I still couldn't accept that he was really gone. Forever. One minute he was there, and the next he wasn't. It didn't make sense that someone could take him away like that. All I wanted was him back. Safe, happy, the two of us together. But instead, I was at the police station, trying to identify his killer.
"Take your time," Det. Benson said soothingly as a group of similar looking men lined up. I tensed up.
"Can they see me?"
"No."
"Step away from the witness, Detective. Honestly, I expect more professionalism from a trained SV-" the man in the corner ordered.
"Shove it, Kressler," she told him, stepping back. I took a deep breath and looked. I scanned the faces of the first five. Nothing. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe as I passed his face. I felt like I was going to be sick.
"Do you see him?" she asked.
"Number six," I managed out.
"Are you sure?"
I scanned the faces again. "Yes."
"Where do you recognize him from?"
"He raped me." I couldn't take it any more, and I ran out of the room. Det. Benson came out a minute later.
"I'm sorry. I just couldn't take seeing him anymore."
"It's okay. Do you have a ride home?"
"No," I said softly. "I'll just take a cab."
"I'll drive you."
"I hear you're a pretty competitive debater," she said to me as we pulled onto the main road. It was more than an hour later, when we finally left the station.
"There's no such thing as an uncompetitive debater," I said, almost smiling. "It can be more cutthroat than Rugby."
She laughed. "One of your friends told me that you could make it to nationals this year."
"Who?" I asked, worried about who they could have talked to.
"Lauren, I think. Do you think you're going to enter for it?"
I hadn't really thought about actually doing it. "I don't know. Regionals are next month."
"How long have you been debating?"
"Um. . . about two years."
"Have you thought about a career in law?"
"Josh used to tease me about that. He'd tell me that the last thing this world needs is another lawyer. He thought I'd end up one. I'm not really sure what I want to do." I raised my hand to wipe some hair out of my face.
"Wow, that's a beautiful ring," she observed. "It looks like an engagement ring."
"It's a promise ring," I said softly. "The day after he was killed, Josh's mom came by. The day would have been our one year anniversary. She gave me the ring, said that he was going to give it to me for our anniversary and that when the time was right, he would have gotten me the real thing."
"Do I turn left or right here?"
"Right."
"I tried debating when I was in high school."
"How did that go?"
"Well, some guy came up to the front of the class, and I couldn't understand a word he was saying. And then I was supposed to argue what he had said. I think the debate was supposed to be about abortion, but I argued the death penalty because that was all that I thought I could decipher from what he was saying."
I smiled. That wasn't something that I had done a lot of since Josh had been killed. "Josh needed another credit, and had finished with his sciences this year, so he took law just to try and keep up with what I saying."
"That's probably what I'd need to do if I ever tried it again." She turned onto my street, and I saw two police cars lined up in my driveway. When we came closer, I saw that the word bitch was written in huge red letters across the front window of my house. The front door was open.
"Is anyone home at your house?"
"No," I said, trying to figure out who would have done something like that. "I live with my mom, and she's away until next week. What's going on?"
She turned into my driveway. "Stay here. I'll see what's going on." Before she had a chance to open her door, two police officers came out, with Andrew in between them.
"I thought you arrested him. He was at the police station and hour and a half ago!"
She turned to me. "He was there for your line-up. He's out on bail. We couldn't hold him any longer than we did."
"So he can just keep doing this?"
"We'll get his bail revoked. He won't be out after this."
I felt like someone had punched my in the stomach. I wasn't safe anywhere. Not at home, not at school, not at work.
"Do you have anywhere you can stay?" she asked me.
"I. . . I don't know." I had no relatives around here. "Um, I guess I can stay with one of my friends." She pulled out her cell phone and handed it to me.
"I'll find out what's going on. You should probably find somewhere to stay, at least for tonight. It'll take awhile here." I took the cell phone and she got out of the car. Ten minutes later, she came back.
"Did you find somewhere?"
"Yeah. What happened here?"
She exhaled slowly. "The police responded to your alarm system. He broke in, messed some stuff up."
"Can I see what he did?"
"Yeah." I got out of the car, handed her cell phone back and we went into my house. Parts of the room had been marked off by yellow tape. I saw some broken glass here and there in the room. I went into the hall leading to my room, and found the word whore scrolled across the wall in blood red spray paint. A hole had been chopped in my door, right in the middle. I turned the handle, afraid of what I might find. Detective Benson was still behind me.
My debate trophies and medals had been knocked all over the floor. Some were broken, some scratched, but mostly just on the floor. Some posters had been torn down. In the same red spray paint, more words were written on one wall. A framed picture of Josh and I from the junior prom was on the floor, the glass shattered, but the picture was okay. My bed spread had been torn up, my window broken.
"What's that smell?" I asked. Something smelled bad. I opened my closet, and found all my clothes soaked in the foul-smelling liquid.
"Gasoline," she said, smelling the clothes.
"Why would he do this?" I asked. I looked on my desk. Everything had been thrown off, a case file sat alone with a post-it note on top.
I told you I'd show you the case was scribbled in messy handwriting. I didn't need to took at it.
"What's that?" she asked.
"The Williams case file," I said softly.
Friday, January 17th
"Why didn't you tell us that Andrew had come to see you?" Det. Benson asked. We were in the interrogation room. I touched the ring that Josh's mom had given me.
"I couldn't. I. . . I told you about the rape. I didn't think I had to tell you anything else."
"When did he come to see you?"
"A couple of days before Josh was killed. He came to school. I didn't know what to do."
"Did he say anything?" Det. Stabler asked.
"He smiled at me. Josh was there. I guess Andrew didn't want to say anything in front of him."
"Did you ever see him and Josh talk?" Det. Benson asked.
"No. But I know that he called Josh. He called me as well, but I got his number blocked. I don't know exactly how he got Josh's number."
"What happened the day Josh was killed?"
I felt my stomach knot up. It was time to tell everything. "Josh was distracted. I asked him about it, and he told me that he was going to meet with someone later. I put two and two together. I confronted him. He admitted it. I begged him not to, but Josh. . . he was so stubborn. He wanted to make Andrew pay for what he did. He. . . was like that. He cared about me. He was my knight in shining armour. Before him, I had so many guys treat me like crap. But he was so different. It wasn't like with everyone else with him. I've never been the prettiest, or the smartest, or the skinniest, but with him, I was. It didn't matter that I wasn't perfect. He just took me as I was." I touched my face, and realised I was crying.
"Can you ID him in a line-up?"
I swallowed hard. "I see his face every time I close my eyes. I'll ID him whenever you have him."
"We've arrested him for your rape. We're working on him for Josh's murder."
I looked down, my eyes filled with tears. "You think he killed Josh?"
"I think so."
I knew that he did it. I had known it for a long time. But when she said that, I just lost it. Josh had been killed because of me. It was my fault that he was dead. That he'd never got to university, or get married. He'd never get to grow up. And because he wouldn't, I would. Andrew could have killed me just as easily.
"So what happens. . . if he did do it?"
"We'll arrest him, and he'll go on trial. If they find him guilty, he could be looking at the death penalty."
I still couldn't accept that he was really gone. Forever. One minute he was there, and the next he wasn't. It didn't make sense that someone could take him away like that. All I wanted was him back. Safe, happy, the two of us together. But instead, I was at the police station, trying to identify his killer.
"Take your time," Det. Benson said soothingly as a group of similar looking men lined up. I tensed up.
"Can they see me?"
"No."
"Step away from the witness, Detective. Honestly, I expect more professionalism from a trained SV-" the man in the corner ordered.
"Shove it, Kressler," she told him, stepping back. I took a deep breath and looked. I scanned the faces of the first five. Nothing. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe as I passed his face. I felt like I was going to be sick.
"Do you see him?" she asked.
"Number six," I managed out.
"Are you sure?"
I scanned the faces again. "Yes."
"Where do you recognize him from?"
"He raped me." I couldn't take it any more, and I ran out of the room. Det. Benson came out a minute later.
"I'm sorry. I just couldn't take seeing him anymore."
"It's okay. Do you have a ride home?"
"No," I said softly. "I'll just take a cab."
"I'll drive you."
"I hear you're a pretty competitive debater," she said to me as we pulled onto the main road. It was more than an hour later, when we finally left the station.
"There's no such thing as an uncompetitive debater," I said, almost smiling. "It can be more cutthroat than Rugby."
She laughed. "One of your friends told me that you could make it to nationals this year."
"Who?" I asked, worried about who they could have talked to.
"Lauren, I think. Do you think you're going to enter for it?"
I hadn't really thought about actually doing it. "I don't know. Regionals are next month."
"How long have you been debating?"
"Um. . . about two years."
"Have you thought about a career in law?"
"Josh used to tease me about that. He'd tell me that the last thing this world needs is another lawyer. He thought I'd end up one. I'm not really sure what I want to do." I raised my hand to wipe some hair out of my face.
"Wow, that's a beautiful ring," she observed. "It looks like an engagement ring."
"It's a promise ring," I said softly. "The day after he was killed, Josh's mom came by. The day would have been our one year anniversary. She gave me the ring, said that he was going to give it to me for our anniversary and that when the time was right, he would have gotten me the real thing."
"Do I turn left or right here?"
"Right."
"I tried debating when I was in high school."
"How did that go?"
"Well, some guy came up to the front of the class, and I couldn't understand a word he was saying. And then I was supposed to argue what he had said. I think the debate was supposed to be about abortion, but I argued the death penalty because that was all that I thought I could decipher from what he was saying."
I smiled. That wasn't something that I had done a lot of since Josh had been killed. "Josh needed another credit, and had finished with his sciences this year, so he took law just to try and keep up with what I saying."
"That's probably what I'd need to do if I ever tried it again." She turned onto my street, and I saw two police cars lined up in my driveway. When we came closer, I saw that the word bitch was written in huge red letters across the front window of my house. The front door was open.
"Is anyone home at your house?"
"No," I said, trying to figure out who would have done something like that. "I live with my mom, and she's away until next week. What's going on?"
She turned into my driveway. "Stay here. I'll see what's going on." Before she had a chance to open her door, two police officers came out, with Andrew in between them.
"I thought you arrested him. He was at the police station and hour and a half ago!"
She turned to me. "He was there for your line-up. He's out on bail. We couldn't hold him any longer than we did."
"So he can just keep doing this?"
"We'll get his bail revoked. He won't be out after this."
I felt like someone had punched my in the stomach. I wasn't safe anywhere. Not at home, not at school, not at work.
"Do you have anywhere you can stay?" she asked me.
"I. . . I don't know." I had no relatives around here. "Um, I guess I can stay with one of my friends." She pulled out her cell phone and handed it to me.
"I'll find out what's going on. You should probably find somewhere to stay, at least for tonight. It'll take awhile here." I took the cell phone and she got out of the car. Ten minutes later, she came back.
"Did you find somewhere?"
"Yeah. What happened here?"
She exhaled slowly. "The police responded to your alarm system. He broke in, messed some stuff up."
"Can I see what he did?"
"Yeah." I got out of the car, handed her cell phone back and we went into my house. Parts of the room had been marked off by yellow tape. I saw some broken glass here and there in the room. I went into the hall leading to my room, and found the word whore scrolled across the wall in blood red spray paint. A hole had been chopped in my door, right in the middle. I turned the handle, afraid of what I might find. Detective Benson was still behind me.
My debate trophies and medals had been knocked all over the floor. Some were broken, some scratched, but mostly just on the floor. Some posters had been torn down. In the same red spray paint, more words were written on one wall. A framed picture of Josh and I from the junior prom was on the floor, the glass shattered, but the picture was okay. My bed spread had been torn up, my window broken.
"What's that smell?" I asked. Something smelled bad. I opened my closet, and found all my clothes soaked in the foul-smelling liquid.
"Gasoline," she said, smelling the clothes.
"Why would he do this?" I asked. I looked on my desk. Everything had been thrown off, a case file sat alone with a post-it note on top.
I told you I'd show you the case was scribbled in messy handwriting. I didn't need to took at it.
"What's that?" she asked.
"The Williams case file," I said softly.