Chapter X. Sam's Testimony

Author's note: This chapter follows Chapter VIII chronologically, as it details Kelly's interview of Sam Majerus concerning the murder of his brother Simon in 1970.

Historical notes: (1) The Wisconsin State University Conference, which is mentioned as Platteville's conference, was rebranded the Wisconsin Intercollegiate Athletic Conference (WIAC) in 1997 and gradually realigned with NCAA Division III in the 1980s and 1990s. (2) The "Route 151" mentioned is now a business route through Platteville proper, Route 151 itself having been realigned as a bypass in 2005.

As Kelly and Sam sat at table in the PlayPlace, Kelly produced a legal pad. "I don't like to mess with audio gobbledygook in public places," she remarked. "Jill taught me some shorthand techniques when she was employed by Charlie, which makes notetaking more comfortable for me in such situations." Sam made himself comfortable as Kelly continued: "This shouldn't take long, but the more detail you give in your answers, the better. If anyone asks why you're arriving home late for your basketball game, just say the Townsend Agency wanted to ask you questions about Simon."

"Actually," Sam replied, "I called my parents to tell coach Sigel and my teammates that I'll be late. That, and finishing my Spanish homework, is why I couldn't meet with you right away."

Kelly nodded before asking: "So, Sam, what was Simon like?"

Sam pondered the question for a moment before saying: "Growing up in Platteville, I didn't have that many friends. It's a small college town, about 10 000 population, so all the locals are familiar with one another. That's why Simon and I were so close in those days. He was three years older than me, but we couldn't have been closer together in spirit.

"Like I am now, Simon was into sports. In his last couple years on Earth, he played in the local Little League. They weren't very good, but I knew what sport I wanted to do in school by the time Simon joined in 1968. One could say he only became an athlete because the 1960s were a pretty good time for Wisconsin sports. After all, the Packers were a force to be reckoned with under Vince Lombardi, winning two Super Bowls that we were both happy to see them win. The Milwaukee Braves, who now play in Atlanta, won the World Series as Mom was going into labour with Simon. The Badgers flirted with all the marbles, only losing to USC by a few points in the Rose Bowl, though they've gone to crap since. And in light of what I had planned on doing tonight, dare I mention the Milwaukee Bucks and Simon's excitement and mine when a guy you might've heard of named Kareem Abdul-Jabbar got drafted by them in 1969 out of UCLA? A few months after Simon was killed, Kareem led the Bucks to the NBA title.

"But more than an influence on my sports interests, Simon was always the one to lend a hand to me whenever I needed it since Mom and Dad were busy all the time, teaching at Platteville State University. He would help me with homework while not giving away the answers, letting me use his cues to reason for myself. Had he lived to go on to high school and college, he would have epitomized the term 'student-athlete.'"
"Just out of curiosity," Kelly replied, "what did your parents teach at Platteville State?"

"Mom taught a course in mediaeval literature, and Dad taught statistics," Sam answered. "I guess you could say Simon was closer to Dad since he was deep into box scores of various sporting events, which Dad encouraged him to analyse for patterns. As for me, I enjoyed Mom reading to me the Poema de Mio Cid, generally considered the national epic of Spain, in the Old Spanish in which it was written. She never has translated it for me, which has encouraged my study of the Spanish language, although I've only learnt modern Spanish in school. It's part of why I'm going to Fullerton State on that baseball scholarship to major in it. God knows I could reach out to the Hispanics in SoCal and understand their culture better.

"But I mentioned box scores. Even for minor events, such as Platteville State's athletic teams, Simon would hunt for statistics on the teams involved. He and Dad would often go all over campus and beg for any stats to crunch. I was dragged along at first, not knowing why. As 1969 gave way to the current decade, though, I understood what could be gleaned from a simple table of figures. That's basically what a box score is, arranged according to the player who achieved the number of instances of each given category."
"I assume analysis follows from such tables," Kelly remarked, "like ERA and passer rating and all that. You should talk to Jill sometime. She would know more about those things than we current Angels ever would. Would the timing of your understanding of Simon's interest in box scores have anything to do with what happened to him?"

A gloom emerged in Sam's countenance as he paused, with only a sigh to interrupt his silence. Kelly nodded, her deep blue eyes betraying a mother's concern. "Take your time; it's hard to speak of losing a loved one that way."

Simon finally spoke, albeit slowly and haltingly at first: "The afternoon of 13 November 1970, Simon and I were going to the Platteville State campus with Dad after school to check out the final regular-season practice held by football coach Gil Krueger and his team, the Pioneers. Unlike the previous year, when they won the league title but missed out on the NAIA playoffs with a single loss—the playoffs at that level only expanded to eight teams last year—the team was undefeated heading into its final game at Stevens Point State. Indeed, during the season we had become more and more interested in the stats for the games, which coach Krueger and his staff happily furnished to us three every week. Of course, we couldn't tell anyone of our acquisitions without permission since the authorities—whether the school, the Wisconsin State University Conference or the NAIA—might look askance upon our activities.

"The way it worked, Dad would transcribe the numbers for Simon and me to crunch. And I must say, it helped our math skills greatly, especially as Simon was nearing high school and I had just started middle school. In case you're wondering, Kelly, Platteville starts middle school in fifth grade, rather than sixth or seventh. At any rate, as a result of our interest in and dedication to Platteville State athletics and the application of stats from the games to Simon's education and mine, we had been invited to the gathering for playoff selections. This would take place the day after the game in the event that the Pioneers won, as was expected.

"We parked the car outside the old stadium, which was located between the fieldhouse and the site of the stadium that's there now, and we made our way to the nearby athletic offices where coach Krueger awaited. But as he was about to hand over the stat sheets from the win over Ferris State of Michigan from the week before, he asked: 'Where's your older son, Professor?'

"At that point, Dad looked around, and I did likewise. Simon wasn't there, so we at first assumed he'd gone to take a dump or something. Coach Krueger had his secretary look in the men's room, but it was open. We then looked around the stadium, but he wasn't there, either. I suggested to Dad that we look at the site of the future stadium, which didn't have any equipment yet on site. Finally, I spotted a curiously large footprint headed toward the east. At first, I thought it couldn't have anything to do with Simon's disappearance. But a surveyor noticed us and said: 'I see you found what looks to be the footprint of some creepy clown who has been terrorizing several fair cities around these parts.'

"His voice trembling, Dad asked the surveyor: 'What does this have to do with my firstborn son? We have been looking all over campus for him and haven't turned him up!'

"'You might want to follow Route 151,' the surveyor replied. 'I saw a tween boy fighting with the clown against being shoved into a red and yellow van.'

"We rushed back to our car, fearing the worst. Instead of going straight to Route 151, we drove toward Chestnut Street as a shortcut to Mineral Street, which would take us to the drag on the east side of town the most quickly. Finally, after reaching the Menard's store—that's a home-improvement chain in the upper Midwest—I spotted a van like the surveyor had described at the nearby Burger King. There were two figures near the van who appeared to be crouching over something. I said to Dad: 'Hey, I think I found the van the surveyor described. We should check it out.' My heart was heavy by this point, and I was shaking as I approached the van." Sam was breathing heavily as he reached this part of his testimony. "It turned out that they were police officers standing over what appeared to be covered human remains. That I might not arouse suspicion, I asked them what they had found. The first police officer said: 'We discovered the corpse of what appeared to be a thirteen-year-old male adolescent. No weapon has been found in the crime scene, but this is an ongoing investigation.'"

"At this, my heart dropped like the Apollo 11 capsule into the ocean the previous year. After all, Simon had just turned thirteen the previous month. The second officer asked: 'Is there a chance you have any such relatives in your immediate family?' Dad nodded, trembling. The first officer asked the second to lift the forensic tarp off the corpse."

By now, Sam was struggling to speak clearly, and Kelly offered him a Kleenex. "What did you see?" Kelly asked.

Sam regained his composure briefly before answering: "As soon as they lifted the tarp, I was horrified by the sight. Normal murderers don't do what whoever killed Simon did to him. In this case, his eyes had been gouged out, and his face had been stretched to the breaking-point. There were scourge marks all over his lifeless back. They had taken out his heart as well, leaving a big, gaping hole where it had been. I wailed and hid my face in Dad's chest upon beholding Simon's remains."

At this point, Sam was sobbing profusely, and Kelly was moved to tears as well as she stroked Sam's hair to comfort him. "I want you to know," she said, "that we at the Townsend Agency will continue to work with you for as long as it takes to solve this cold case. But as for me, I can only imagine your courage in explaining not only what happened that day back in 1970 but also in giving heed to what your brother was like in life. May you go to your basketball watch party in peace."

Sam nodded as he and Kelly walked to their respective cars. But as they were about to go their separate ways for now, Sam remarked: "Thank you for allowing me to share what happened then in a way that gave me the courage you mentioned. It's good to think about loved ones you've lost in terms of how they lived instead of how they died."

Kelly smiled and bowed her head as she got in the car Charlie had bought her.