Friend or Foe?
"Ring, ring," the doorbell sounded. Its loud, steady tone crackled throughout the house. It traveled up the stairs and to Billy's room, where he lay sleeping. His limp body was resting in his bed, his covers kicked off. Billy was fourteen and like most teenagers, his room was in disarray. Trash was stacked all over and old clothes strewn everywhere. There the sound came again. He jolted back to consciousness. His eyes peeked open and he slowly got up. He waited a second while his eyes adjusted to the light coming in through his windows. Then he reached for the door. As he pulled himself outside, he realized something was different. He didn't smell the familiar scent of bacon that usually occurred every Saturday. He drug himself, still half asleep, down the long hallway. The knob felt cold as his fingers touched it. He opened the door and discovered a shocking sight.
There was a man about six feet tall, wearing a blue policeman's outfit. His badge glittered in the morning sun. Billy knew the man. Billy recognized him at once as Tim Cooney, his father's partner. But he did not know the look on his face. His eyes were wide and his color pale. Something was terribly wrong.
"You better sit down," Tim ordered, his voice quavering. He ushered Billy to the couch.
"What is it," Billy asked.
Tim hesitated, "It's your father, he's dead." All the blood drained from Billy's face. He wouldn't believe it, he couldn't.
"No," he shouted at Tim. "It's not true." Tim wiped the tears from Billy's eyes. They had become close. Tim visited almost every day to pick up his dad for work.
"I'm sorry," Tim managed to say. "We're all sorry." Billy stormed up to his room.
He was exhausted from crying and slowly fell asleep. He had lost his father just like his mother. Where was he to go?
The next morning was the funeral. Tim was right, everyone was sorry. His father had been a good man, and the place was packed. Billy didn't notice though, his thoughts were somewhere else. He was reliving the past, the fun times they had together. The things he would have changed. It was too hard to comprehend. His father was gone now, and Billy wouldn't ever have the chance.
He cried for days, hardly ever getting out of his room. He wouldn't eat and barely slept. All that time trying to convince himself that it was all a dream, and that he would find his father making breakfast in the kitchen. But it never happened, and Billy began to realize that it never would. He knew he couldn't have his father back and grew to also realize what he really longed for. He wanted revenge. They never talked about how his father had died, but he could see straight through Tim's eyes. Billy knew he had been murdered, and he wanted that man dead.
Billy withdrew from his room, His face was clean and emotionless. He couldn't mourn the death of his father forever. That would not bring his killer to justice. He couldn't let this end his life.
And he didn't. For five more years he lived with his uncle in an old, rusty house. He finished up high school and moved out. He went to college and got a degree in teaching. Billy, who was now twenty-four, got a job at a nearby middle school. Life went on normally with Billy ignoring his father's horrendous death. But this time of harmony, like all else in the world, cannot last forever.
It all changed one day with the presence of someone unexpected. Billy didn't notice at the time, but later he would have thought differently. The man was Jake Harrison. He was little older than himself. Billy summarized he was about thirty years old. Jake was replacing a teacher that had passed away about a week ago.
"Hi," Billy announced. "You must be Jake." Billy studied the man. His face was dotted with freckles and he had a large beard growing from his chin. His clothes were clean but very plain.
"Yes, and you are?" Jake replied.
"My name's Billy," he started to say, but he was cut off by another teacher. Jake walked away. Billy turned away to his classroom.
They met again in the lunchroom. Billy was in line right behind him. He waited a second, looking him over again. He looked familiar, like someone he'd known before. Then it came back in a flash. Of course, why hadn't he noticed before? Jake was an old friend of his from his childhood. He was like a big brother to Billy, always at his house. He used to live right down the street, but moved shortly after the death of Billy's father.
"Hey," Billy said to Jake. "Do you remember me, Billy Thomas" He turned and looked at Billy.
"The Billy Thomas," Jake asked. "The same Billy that lived across the street and would never quit following me"
"You enjoyed my company, don't lie," Billy replied. "Where have you been all these years?"
Jake and Billy talked on and on for hours after school, catching up on old times together. They remembered the time Billy fell off the slide and broke his arm. Jake had carried Billy all the way to the hospital.
"Yah, those were good times," Jake remembered.
"Yep," Billy agreed. "So what have you been up to?"
"Nothing much," Jake stated. "I graduated a while back and got a job at Thomas High." The sun outside was hot, but the inside of the building was air-conditioned. Still you could see little drops of sweat coming down Jake's face. His voice quivered as he answered each question. Billy noticed right away.
"What's wrong," Billy asked.
"Nothing," Jake replied hesitantly trying to push the matter aside.
"Okay," Billy said. "You just looked a little nervous."
So they went on, talking about the past. Six o'clock passed and they kept talking.
"Oh man," Billy exclaimed at a quarter to seven. "I'm going to be late to my meeting. I got to go." Billy wrote down his phone number and handed it to Jake. "I hope we can finish this talk later." Jake let out a sigh of relief as Billy turned and ran down the long hallway.
The death of Billy's father was a case nearly eleven years old, but the police didn't give up. The killing had been a rush job and the culprit left many clues behind. Unfortunately, none of these could pinpoint the killer.
"Hello," Billy said breathing heavily. "Sorry I'm late."
He was in the office of Officer Luke Ford. As you might have guessed, Officer Ford worked for the police department. They had come to know each other very well. Officer Ford called Billy every time there was a break in the case. So far they were all dead ends.
"Sit down," the policeman instructed. "I have some news you might want to hear." Billy approached the chair.
He looked around the room. Nothing had changed. The office was still plain, nothing but a white room with a couple of chairs and a desk. The same gold plated nametag lay on the desk next to a picture of Officer Ford's family. There was still the familiar stack of paper placed in the center of the desk.
"So, what do you got today," Billy asked. For a second Officer Ford's face twisted into a smile. He quickly gained his composure, and his blank face returned. Billy knew the news had to be good if it could make even that man smile.
"We believe we have found your father's killer," he replied. Millions of questions raced through Billy's head. Who did it? Where is he? And most importantly why? Why was his father taken from him? What had he done do deserve this? Billy wanted all these questions answered immediately. Instead Officer Ford took his time.
He began to open his mouth again, but no words came out. Instead only a click came from the distance. Glass shattered throughout the small office.
"Are you okay," Billy asked, but the man did not answer. Blood poured from his mouth and stained the floor. Officer Luke Ford was dead.
Where was he to go from here? The only man who knew the killer was now dead. Then he began to think.
He was next, he thought. The man killed his father and was now coming for him.
Billy grabbed his coat and ran. He ran through the empty police station and out the door. But no more shots came. The sniper had already left. Billy didn't stop running once he got out the door. He ran on, until he got to a telephone booth. Billy pushed in the numbers, 911. A low voice came at the other end.
"Hello. What is your emergency," the voice said.
Billy told the operator of Officer Ford's death and hung up.
He had left the car at the police station and didn't feel like going back. He started the long walk home. This gave him plenty of time to think. Who would have known about their meeting? It had to have been someone close to Officer Ford, he concluded. Someone with access to his schedule. Billy's spirits were temporarily lifted. That conclusion certainly narrowed down the suspects.
That day hadn't been a total waste. The suspects of his father's death had gone from practically everyone to just a couple of dozen.
The next day was a Saturday. Billy woke up to the ring of a phone. Groggily he picked it up and answered it. "Hello," he mumbled.
"Hi," the voice replied.
The old phone crackled and twisted the man's voice, but Billy couldn't mistake it. It was Jake, but it surprised him at first. Then his memory returned to him.
"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"
"It's okay," Billy replied.
"I couldn't get a hold of you last night," Jake stated. "I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch at Paul's Café with me today?"
"Sure. What time?" Billy asked.
"Is eleven okay?" Jake asked.
Billy checked his calendar. "Yes, eleven is great."
"Great. Then I'll see you there," Jake replied.
It was already ten. Billy got up and walked to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and got dressed. He wore his favorite shirt. It was really just a plain shirt, but Billy loved it. It was once his father's, and it reminded Billy of him. He added a plain, red tie and was ready to go. Ten forty; time to get in the car.
He pulled up at Paul's Café just on time. As he parked, he saw Jake through the window. He entered the restaurant and headed to the back where Jake was sitting.
"You're late," he joked. "You agreed to meet me at eleven then show up a whole minute late." Jake was always trying to be funny.
"I'm sorry your highness," Billy sarcastically replied. He sat down.
"So, what's good to eat at this place? I've never been here before," Jake asked.
"I like the steak," Billy answered. "But the soup is good too."
After Jake and Billy gave the waitress their orders, they started talking like they hadn't been apart for all those years. Those two were good friends again. They talked about sports, the weather, or anything else they could think about.
"Hey," Billy asked pointing to a gray spot on Jake's clothes. "What's that?"
"Oh. That's just some powder from my old gun," Jake said nervously. "I went out hunting the other day."
"I didn't know you hunted," Billy said. "You should come with me sometime. I love to hunt."
Billy obviously didn't notice Jake's reaction. He began twitching and sweating bullets. Jake looked at his watch. "I got to go," Jake lied. He paid the bill and left Billy alone.
"I'm going to do it next time," Jake thought to himself. "I got to."
The next day, Billy got on his computer. He was looking for everyone that could have known about his meeting with Officer Fox. The government website had all the information he needed. Of course you had to have a password, but there were ways around that. Billy watched intently as he waited for the list to load.
Then came a knock on the door. Billy reluctantly turned his attention away from the computer and answered the door. Billy peeked through the little hole in the door. It was Jake. Billy opened the door.
"Hi again," Jake greeted him.
"Hi," Billy answered. "So what brings you here?"
"I have two tickets to the Lakers game. I was wondering if you wanted to come?"
"Sure," Billy said cheerfully. "The Lakers are my favorite team." He grabbed his coat and followed Jake to the car. They drove to the stadium. It took about half an hour, but Jake wasn't in the mood to talk. Most of the trip was silent.
When they finally got there, thinks still didn't change. Billy didn't notice as much though, because of the noise of all the other fans. Billy enjoyed the game. It was his favorite kind. The Lakers were down by one point with ten seconds left. He loved close games. The way they made your heart race. It made the game more exciting. Five- four-three-two- one. Kobe Bryant took a shot. The buzzer sounded. The crowd was up on its feet. It rolled in the basket. The crowd went wild. The whole crowd rose to their feet, except Jake. He remained in his seat. Billy knew something was wrong. Popcorn was flying, and people were running onto the court, but Jake just sat there. The ride home was more silent than a grave. You've probably heard as silent as a grave before, but this intense silence was beyond all you can imagine. No one dared to make a sound. Not Billy or Jake said one word during the trip. Even the car's usually loud engine seemed inaudible. This silence was piercing and bone-chilling. Billy couldn't wait to get home. Finally, the silence came to an end. "Great game," Jake said catching Billy by surprise. He had almost forgotten what a human voice sounded like. "Yah," he replied. Billy stepped out of the car. Jake followed him. "Hey, you want something to eat?" Billy offered. "No," Jake said but quickly added, "I would like something to drink though." Billy opened the door and let Jake in. "Make yourself at home," he said. "I'll be back in a minute." Billy turned and headed for the kitchen. Jake slammed the door shut. Billy turned around, only to find a pistol pointed at his head. Billy couldn't talk. He was frozen in fear. Finally, he got out a single word. "What?" he gasped. "I guess you deserve to know the whole story, since you are my friend and all." "What's wrong with you?" Billy gasped. "Why are you doing this?" "Well if you just wait a second, I can explain. Okay. Well, it all started about ten or eleven years ago. Some police officer caught me selling pot at the west end of town." "What does this have to do with me?" Billy asked. "Just wait and you'll see. So I started running, but he caught up. I got nervous, so I shot him. I found out later that he died." "My dad!" Billy screamed with fury. "You killed my dad!" Of course, why hadn't he noticed? All the clues pointed to him. Jake had moved right after his dad's death. No wonder he was so nervous when they talked. "How did you know about my meeting with Officer Fox?" Billy asked the killer. "I lied about my past. I used to work for the police department. I scheduled all his meetings." "Why me?" Billy replied. "You were getting too close. All you had to do was read the list you printed out to put two and two together. I couldn't let that happen." "I think that about sums it up," Jake sneered and cocked his gun. That was the chance Billy had been waiting for. He kicked Jake's legs out from under him. Who would have thought those karate lessons would pay off? The gun spit out of Jake's hands and landed right next to Billy. He raised the gun and pointed it at the center of Jake's head. He had been waiting nearly eleven years for this moment. Yet, the fantasies Billy had were not like this. Billy saw in Jake's face a friend; not a cold-blooded killer. He couldn't force himself to take the shot. After all Jake had put him through, he couldn't pull end his friend's life.
Bang! The pistol went off. It struck Jake in the right knee. Then Billy called the police. What happened then was all a blur to Billy. It all hadn't quite sunk in yet. The police took Jake in and put him in jail. Billy slept easier that night knowing his father's killer would see justice. Several months later was Jake's trial. From the second he entered the courtroom everyone knew he was guilty. Jake even noticed the jurors' hatred towards him too. They followed his every move like a lion does their prey, waiting for him to make a false move. Jake's attorney stood before the court. He never had a chance. The case the prosecutor brought before him was too strong. Jake was nearly thirty-one. He was sentenced to eighty years in prison without a chance for parole. Billy was happy to know Jake wouldn't see the light of day again. Justice had run its course. Life returned to normal for Billy. He felt as if a huge boulder had been lifted off his chest. In honor of his father, Billy started the Ted Thomas Foundation. He raised money for kids whose parents had died. He helped thousands of people worldwide. His foundation still lives on, even to this day.
"Ring, ring," the doorbell sounded. Its loud, steady tone crackled throughout the house. It traveled up the stairs and to Billy's room, where he lay sleeping. His limp body was resting in his bed, his covers kicked off. Billy was fourteen and like most teenagers, his room was in disarray. Trash was stacked all over and old clothes strewn everywhere. There the sound came again. He jolted back to consciousness. His eyes peeked open and he slowly got up. He waited a second while his eyes adjusted to the light coming in through his windows. Then he reached for the door. As he pulled himself outside, he realized something was different. He didn't smell the familiar scent of bacon that usually occurred every Saturday. He drug himself, still half asleep, down the long hallway. The knob felt cold as his fingers touched it. He opened the door and discovered a shocking sight.
There was a man about six feet tall, wearing a blue policeman's outfit. His badge glittered in the morning sun. Billy knew the man. Billy recognized him at once as Tim Cooney, his father's partner. But he did not know the look on his face. His eyes were wide and his color pale. Something was terribly wrong.
"You better sit down," Tim ordered, his voice quavering. He ushered Billy to the couch.
"What is it," Billy asked.
Tim hesitated, "It's your father, he's dead." All the blood drained from Billy's face. He wouldn't believe it, he couldn't.
"No," he shouted at Tim. "It's not true." Tim wiped the tears from Billy's eyes. They had become close. Tim visited almost every day to pick up his dad for work.
"I'm sorry," Tim managed to say. "We're all sorry." Billy stormed up to his room.
He was exhausted from crying and slowly fell asleep. He had lost his father just like his mother. Where was he to go?
The next morning was the funeral. Tim was right, everyone was sorry. His father had been a good man, and the place was packed. Billy didn't notice though, his thoughts were somewhere else. He was reliving the past, the fun times they had together. The things he would have changed. It was too hard to comprehend. His father was gone now, and Billy wouldn't ever have the chance.
He cried for days, hardly ever getting out of his room. He wouldn't eat and barely slept. All that time trying to convince himself that it was all a dream, and that he would find his father making breakfast in the kitchen. But it never happened, and Billy began to realize that it never would. He knew he couldn't have his father back and grew to also realize what he really longed for. He wanted revenge. They never talked about how his father had died, but he could see straight through Tim's eyes. Billy knew he had been murdered, and he wanted that man dead.
Billy withdrew from his room, His face was clean and emotionless. He couldn't mourn the death of his father forever. That would not bring his killer to justice. He couldn't let this end his life.
And he didn't. For five more years he lived with his uncle in an old, rusty house. He finished up high school and moved out. He went to college and got a degree in teaching. Billy, who was now twenty-four, got a job at a nearby middle school. Life went on normally with Billy ignoring his father's horrendous death. But this time of harmony, like all else in the world, cannot last forever.
It all changed one day with the presence of someone unexpected. Billy didn't notice at the time, but later he would have thought differently. The man was Jake Harrison. He was little older than himself. Billy summarized he was about thirty years old. Jake was replacing a teacher that had passed away about a week ago.
"Hi," Billy announced. "You must be Jake." Billy studied the man. His face was dotted with freckles and he had a large beard growing from his chin. His clothes were clean but very plain.
"Yes, and you are?" Jake replied.
"My name's Billy," he started to say, but he was cut off by another teacher. Jake walked away. Billy turned away to his classroom.
They met again in the lunchroom. Billy was in line right behind him. He waited a second, looking him over again. He looked familiar, like someone he'd known before. Then it came back in a flash. Of course, why hadn't he noticed before? Jake was an old friend of his from his childhood. He was like a big brother to Billy, always at his house. He used to live right down the street, but moved shortly after the death of Billy's father.
"Hey," Billy said to Jake. "Do you remember me, Billy Thomas" He turned and looked at Billy.
"The Billy Thomas," Jake asked. "The same Billy that lived across the street and would never quit following me"
"You enjoyed my company, don't lie," Billy replied. "Where have you been all these years?"
Jake and Billy talked on and on for hours after school, catching up on old times together. They remembered the time Billy fell off the slide and broke his arm. Jake had carried Billy all the way to the hospital.
"Yah, those were good times," Jake remembered.
"Yep," Billy agreed. "So what have you been up to?"
"Nothing much," Jake stated. "I graduated a while back and got a job at Thomas High." The sun outside was hot, but the inside of the building was air-conditioned. Still you could see little drops of sweat coming down Jake's face. His voice quivered as he answered each question. Billy noticed right away.
"What's wrong," Billy asked.
"Nothing," Jake replied hesitantly trying to push the matter aside.
"Okay," Billy said. "You just looked a little nervous."
So they went on, talking about the past. Six o'clock passed and they kept talking.
"Oh man," Billy exclaimed at a quarter to seven. "I'm going to be late to my meeting. I got to go." Billy wrote down his phone number and handed it to Jake. "I hope we can finish this talk later." Jake let out a sigh of relief as Billy turned and ran down the long hallway.
The death of Billy's father was a case nearly eleven years old, but the police didn't give up. The killing had been a rush job and the culprit left many clues behind. Unfortunately, none of these could pinpoint the killer.
"Hello," Billy said breathing heavily. "Sorry I'm late."
He was in the office of Officer Luke Ford. As you might have guessed, Officer Ford worked for the police department. They had come to know each other very well. Officer Ford called Billy every time there was a break in the case. So far they were all dead ends.
"Sit down," the policeman instructed. "I have some news you might want to hear." Billy approached the chair.
He looked around the room. Nothing had changed. The office was still plain, nothing but a white room with a couple of chairs and a desk. The same gold plated nametag lay on the desk next to a picture of Officer Ford's family. There was still the familiar stack of paper placed in the center of the desk.
"So, what do you got today," Billy asked. For a second Officer Ford's face twisted into a smile. He quickly gained his composure, and his blank face returned. Billy knew the news had to be good if it could make even that man smile.
"We believe we have found your father's killer," he replied. Millions of questions raced through Billy's head. Who did it? Where is he? And most importantly why? Why was his father taken from him? What had he done do deserve this? Billy wanted all these questions answered immediately. Instead Officer Ford took his time.
He began to open his mouth again, but no words came out. Instead only a click came from the distance. Glass shattered throughout the small office.
"Are you okay," Billy asked, but the man did not answer. Blood poured from his mouth and stained the floor. Officer Luke Ford was dead.
Where was he to go from here? The only man who knew the killer was now dead. Then he began to think.
He was next, he thought. The man killed his father and was now coming for him.
Billy grabbed his coat and ran. He ran through the empty police station and out the door. But no more shots came. The sniper had already left. Billy didn't stop running once he got out the door. He ran on, until he got to a telephone booth. Billy pushed in the numbers, 911. A low voice came at the other end.
"Hello. What is your emergency," the voice said.
Billy told the operator of Officer Ford's death and hung up.
He had left the car at the police station and didn't feel like going back. He started the long walk home. This gave him plenty of time to think. Who would have known about their meeting? It had to have been someone close to Officer Ford, he concluded. Someone with access to his schedule. Billy's spirits were temporarily lifted. That conclusion certainly narrowed down the suspects.
That day hadn't been a total waste. The suspects of his father's death had gone from practically everyone to just a couple of dozen.
The next day was a Saturday. Billy woke up to the ring of a phone. Groggily he picked it up and answered it. "Hello," he mumbled.
"Hi," the voice replied.
The old phone crackled and twisted the man's voice, but Billy couldn't mistake it. It was Jake, but it surprised him at first. Then his memory returned to him.
"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"
"It's okay," Billy replied.
"I couldn't get a hold of you last night," Jake stated. "I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch at Paul's Café with me today?"
"Sure. What time?" Billy asked.
"Is eleven okay?" Jake asked.
Billy checked his calendar. "Yes, eleven is great."
"Great. Then I'll see you there," Jake replied.
It was already ten. Billy got up and walked to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and got dressed. He wore his favorite shirt. It was really just a plain shirt, but Billy loved it. It was once his father's, and it reminded Billy of him. He added a plain, red tie and was ready to go. Ten forty; time to get in the car.
He pulled up at Paul's Café just on time. As he parked, he saw Jake through the window. He entered the restaurant and headed to the back where Jake was sitting.
"You're late," he joked. "You agreed to meet me at eleven then show up a whole minute late." Jake was always trying to be funny.
"I'm sorry your highness," Billy sarcastically replied. He sat down.
"So, what's good to eat at this place? I've never been here before," Jake asked.
"I like the steak," Billy answered. "But the soup is good too."
After Jake and Billy gave the waitress their orders, they started talking like they hadn't been apart for all those years. Those two were good friends again. They talked about sports, the weather, or anything else they could think about.
"Hey," Billy asked pointing to a gray spot on Jake's clothes. "What's that?"
"Oh. That's just some powder from my old gun," Jake said nervously. "I went out hunting the other day."
"I didn't know you hunted," Billy said. "You should come with me sometime. I love to hunt."
Billy obviously didn't notice Jake's reaction. He began twitching and sweating bullets. Jake looked at his watch. "I got to go," Jake lied. He paid the bill and left Billy alone.
"I'm going to do it next time," Jake thought to himself. "I got to."
The next day, Billy got on his computer. He was looking for everyone that could have known about his meeting with Officer Fox. The government website had all the information he needed. Of course you had to have a password, but there were ways around that. Billy watched intently as he waited for the list to load.
Then came a knock on the door. Billy reluctantly turned his attention away from the computer and answered the door. Billy peeked through the little hole in the door. It was Jake. Billy opened the door.
"Hi again," Jake greeted him.
"Hi," Billy answered. "So what brings you here?"
"I have two tickets to the Lakers game. I was wondering if you wanted to come?"
"Sure," Billy said cheerfully. "The Lakers are my favorite team." He grabbed his coat and followed Jake to the car. They drove to the stadium. It took about half an hour, but Jake wasn't in the mood to talk. Most of the trip was silent.
When they finally got there, thinks still didn't change. Billy didn't notice as much though, because of the noise of all the other fans. Billy enjoyed the game. It was his favorite kind. The Lakers were down by one point with ten seconds left. He loved close games. The way they made your heart race. It made the game more exciting. Five- four-three-two- one. Kobe Bryant took a shot. The buzzer sounded. The crowd was up on its feet. It rolled in the basket. The crowd went wild. The whole crowd rose to their feet, except Jake. He remained in his seat. Billy knew something was wrong. Popcorn was flying, and people were running onto the court, but Jake just sat there. The ride home was more silent than a grave. You've probably heard as silent as a grave before, but this intense silence was beyond all you can imagine. No one dared to make a sound. Not Billy or Jake said one word during the trip. Even the car's usually loud engine seemed inaudible. This silence was piercing and bone-chilling. Billy couldn't wait to get home. Finally, the silence came to an end. "Great game," Jake said catching Billy by surprise. He had almost forgotten what a human voice sounded like. "Yah," he replied. Billy stepped out of the car. Jake followed him. "Hey, you want something to eat?" Billy offered. "No," Jake said but quickly added, "I would like something to drink though." Billy opened the door and let Jake in. "Make yourself at home," he said. "I'll be back in a minute." Billy turned and headed for the kitchen. Jake slammed the door shut. Billy turned around, only to find a pistol pointed at his head. Billy couldn't talk. He was frozen in fear. Finally, he got out a single word. "What?" he gasped. "I guess you deserve to know the whole story, since you are my friend and all." "What's wrong with you?" Billy gasped. "Why are you doing this?" "Well if you just wait a second, I can explain. Okay. Well, it all started about ten or eleven years ago. Some police officer caught me selling pot at the west end of town." "What does this have to do with me?" Billy asked. "Just wait and you'll see. So I started running, but he caught up. I got nervous, so I shot him. I found out later that he died." "My dad!" Billy screamed with fury. "You killed my dad!" Of course, why hadn't he noticed? All the clues pointed to him. Jake had moved right after his dad's death. No wonder he was so nervous when they talked. "How did you know about my meeting with Officer Fox?" Billy asked the killer. "I lied about my past. I used to work for the police department. I scheduled all his meetings." "Why me?" Billy replied. "You were getting too close. All you had to do was read the list you printed out to put two and two together. I couldn't let that happen." "I think that about sums it up," Jake sneered and cocked his gun. That was the chance Billy had been waiting for. He kicked Jake's legs out from under him. Who would have thought those karate lessons would pay off? The gun spit out of Jake's hands and landed right next to Billy. He raised the gun and pointed it at the center of Jake's head. He had been waiting nearly eleven years for this moment. Yet, the fantasies Billy had were not like this. Billy saw in Jake's face a friend; not a cold-blooded killer. He couldn't force himself to take the shot. After all Jake had put him through, he couldn't pull end his friend's life.
Bang! The pistol went off. It struck Jake in the right knee. Then Billy called the police. What happened then was all a blur to Billy. It all hadn't quite sunk in yet. The police took Jake in and put him in jail. Billy slept easier that night knowing his father's killer would see justice. Several months later was Jake's trial. From the second he entered the courtroom everyone knew he was guilty. Jake even noticed the jurors' hatred towards him too. They followed his every move like a lion does their prey, waiting for him to make a false move. Jake's attorney stood before the court. He never had a chance. The case the prosecutor brought before him was too strong. Jake was nearly thirty-one. He was sentenced to eighty years in prison without a chance for parole. Billy was happy to know Jake wouldn't see the light of day again. Justice had run its course. Life returned to normal for Billy. He felt as if a huge boulder had been lifted off his chest. In honor of his father, Billy started the Ted Thomas Foundation. He raised money for kids whose parents had died. He helped thousands of people worldwide. His foundation still lives on, even to this day.