Injustice
She exuded sex. Each curve of her body flowed seamlessly into the next one. The soft fall of her Asian, black, hair, melted into the firm roundness of her shoulders, falling head long into the graceful slope of her perfectly formed hips. She was the untouchable goddess, reserved for the attractive and the rich.
I stared at her through the dirty windows of Lathem’s gas station, while she pumped gas into a bright blue Trans-Am. It was a beautiful car for a beautiful girl. I guessed her to be a college girl, heading for another party or maybe a nightclub to meet with friends. Her blue jeans took on a life of their own, changing from dark to light blue as she bent over to place the gas cap back on. Like her, I also attend college, but she and I were polar opposites. I know that without knowing her. Because of her beauty, I knew that anything she wanted in life was easily attained just by asking. Not at all like my life, full of unrealized goals blocked by the hurdles of low income and plain looks.
I could tell from the remote meter on the counter that she hadn’t paid for the gas with a credit card, leaving me some hope that she might come into the store to pay. Those hopes were realized when she walked towards me, her hair, breasts and hips swaying together in a crude, awkward, dance, exaggerated by three inch heels on her shoes. The scent of lavender surrounded me as she walked through the door and into the small room of shelves, stocked with oil cans, outdated canned vegetables, and candy.
“Nice car,” I said, trying hard to sound more confident than I actually am. I forced myself to look into her eyes. Expecting her to look away, I was surprised when she stared back and held her gaze for several seconds. That hadn’t happened since my freshman year, when my old girlfriend, Amy, reacted the same way as I walked by her on my way to class. But Amy was not like this girl. This girl was in another league.
“It’s not really mine,” she said. “Daddy’s letting me use it until I graduate. Then he wants it back. I don’t usually tell people that, but for some reason I just told you, didn’t I?”
She moved up to the counter and almost knocked the gum tray over with her breasts. She sighed, and then smiled at me as if she had known me all her life. My eyes drifted down her low cut dress, transfixed on the rise and fall of cleavage with each breath she took.
“I only topped it off,” she said. “I guess I’m OCD or something; the fear of running out of gas at night. I wonder if there’s a phobia for that. Do you think?”
I stammered out, “I don’t know. I guess so.”
She took three of the Doublemint packages and stacked them neatly on the counter, and touched my chest with her index finger.
“Oh you know, like agoraphobia or something like that, except it would be the fear of running out of gas. Like gasaphobia.” She laughed loudly with a machine gun like staccato that startled me. I’m sure I could get used to the laugh, if the other benefits came along as part of the package.
“Yeah that’s pretty good, uh…”
“Gerry, with a G,” she said.
“Gerry. What a great name for a girl. I’m a student too, but I don’t think I’ve seen you on campus.”
“That’s because I don’t go to State, silly,” she said, touching me again on my chest. I felt a small electric shock as she pushed against my shirt to emphasize each syllable. “I go to Abram’s Medical school across town. You’re looking at a future OB-GYN but I promise you that you’ll never be a patient of mine, unless you have a sex change.” She smiled, stared at my pants and then raised her eyes to my bright red face.
I can’t believe this might actually happen. It’s almost impossible to conceive, and yet there’s absolutely no doubt she’s flirting with me. She is definitely taking the initiative. It doesn’t make sense but it’s obvious what her intentions are.
She looked up to the shelves above my head. “I’ll take a pack of
Oh well, the benefits still outweigh the negatives of smoking as far as I’m concerned. Just the idea of touching that body would be worth any vice.
“No charge,” I said. “It’s on me tonight.”
“Really!” she exclaimed. “Oh you are a sweetheart.” She reached over the counter grabbed the back of my head and kissed me for several seconds. I reacted immediately. It had been six months since the last time I had sex. That was the night Amy and I split up so I was nearly at my bursting point.
“Oh that’s okay,” I said. “I’m just a nice guy, you know.”
“You are nice,” she said, eyeing me, “Very nice.”
“What time do you get off work?” she asked, pounding the Salems against her open palm.
“Me?” I replied.
“No, the other guy behind the counter. Of course you! What time do you get off?”
“Eleven,” I stammered.
“Great,” she said. “Why don’t you grab a few beers and meet me at Halvern Hill, just outside the campus. Do you know where that is?”
“Yeah,” I replied, and wiped the perspiration off my forehead with my shirtsleeve. “But … um … I don’t have a car. My apartment’s across the street and I usually bike to school.”
I blew it. She’s not going to hang with a geek who doesn’t even own a car.
“That’s okay … uh … what’s your name?”
“Doug Spencer”
“That’s okay, Doug Spencer. I’ll be here at eleven to pick you up if you think you’re up to it.” She poked her finger against my chest again. That lovely long finger was only two hours away from hopefully doing God knows what.
Her slow, hip grinding walk back to her car was almost too painful to watch. Two hours until possibly, the most memorable night of my life. I wish someone else was here to document this. No one will believe it. I don’t believe it myself. Gerry with a G.
She was prompt. At 10:59 she drove up to the front of the store just as I was locking the door.
“Never mind the beer, Doug,” she said from the half open window of the Trans Am. “We won’t need it.”
I threw the beer back into the store, walked around the grumbling Trans Am and slid in the passenger seat. Aerosmith blared out “Rag Doll” and the heavy odor of lavender filled the car. Gerry grabbed my thigh and squeezed it playfully.
“You ready, Tiger?” she said, and sped off north, the three miles to the university. Boy was I ready. Any more ready, and I’d burst. She said little on the drive to Halvern Hill, a notorious make out area behind the university. As it turned out we were the only couple parked there, which was fine with me. She left the radio on, but turned off the engine and lights. She leaned over me and placed her knee between my legs while reclining my seat. She kissed me so hard I had to stop her to catch my breath. Her breasts felt warm and soft against my chest.
“You don’t mind if we skip the amenities and get right down to the hard stuff, do you Doug? I don’t really like long courtships.”
She rolled over me into the back seat and held her arms out to me. I rolled on top of her, grinding my hips into her while she thrust back up against me. A sweet, low, moan formed deep in her throat. I started to unbutton her blouse.
“Rip it off Doug! Rip off my shirt!” she yelled.
“I don’t want to ruin your blouse, Gerry.” I really didn’t mind unbuttoning it. I wanted to take it slow, but then she grabbed my hand and placed it in the blouse.
“Rip it off now! I want you to. I have a change of clothes in the trunk. Rip it off … now!”
I straddled her; put both hands inside the blouse and pulled up in one, quick, motion. The buttons flew off the blouse, ricocheting off of me and the car. I pushed her black bra aside and squeezed both breasts. I reached around to unlatch the back of the bra, when Gerry stopped me again.
“Cut if off!” she yelled.
“What are you nuts? I’m not going to cut it off,”
“There’s a knife in the glove compartment. Get it out and cut it off now! I want you to. That’s the way I like it. Cut it off!” she screamed.
I reached over the reclined front seat and opened the glove compartment. The light from the compartment reflected off the sweat building around Gerry’s breasts. I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I took the jackknife out of the compartment and opened it. The blade was sharp, probably never used. I left the glove compartment open, because I needed the light to cut the bra off carefully, without cutting her or me. I slid it between the cups and cut towards me. The cups flew off to each side of her heaving breasts.
“Oh yeah, Doug. That makes me so hot.”
She lifted her hips and pulled off her jeans. That was my signal to start removing my clothes. I was naked before she slipped the last pant leg off. I fell back on top of her and we kissed.
“Cut my panties off Doug, now! Cut them off!”
She was spooking me, now. “Welcome to the real world of weird sex, Doug,” I sarcastically said under my breath. I slipped the knife under the panties and carefully sliced up and away from her body. The panties slipped off easily and I threw them into the front seat along with the knife
“Now, Doug,” she moaned. “Do it now,”
I thrust into her. I didn’t last long, only a few seconds. The excitement that took three hours to achieve ended briefly and quietly. Gerry’s demeanor changed almost immediately. It was as if I had flipped a light switch off inside her.
“I’m sorry Gerry. I didn’t mean to do it that fast. You just got me all excited with the clothes and knife, that’s all. The next time will be slower and softer, I promise.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time Doug,” she said reaching for the pack of cigarettes in the armrest. “Now get off me and get out.”
“What do you mean, ‘get out’?”
“I mean,” she said, “get out of the goddamn car right now. Get out! G-e-t o-u-t, get out!”
She pulled the door handle, pushed the door open, and literally kicked me out of the car and onto the cold grass of the hill. She piled my clothes together in a ball and threw them at me.
“Now go!” she yelled.
“But I live three miles away,” I pleaded. “Aren’t you going to drive me home at least?”
“Hell, no. Now good bye, Doug, and have a nice walk.”
She closed and locked the door.
I slammed my fists against the window. “Bitch!” I yelled. “You stupid, heartless, bitch!”
She ignored me and I quickly put my clothes on and walked away from the car. I looked back and saw the faint glow of a cell phone against her ear.
The long walk back to my apartment was a reflective one. I wondered what her reasons were for humiliating me. What would make her treat me like an afterthought when at first; she seemed to genuinely like me?
There weren’t many cars on the dark two lane road that lead to my apartment complex. I walked about a mile when I was suddenly illuminated by an intense bright beam of light above me. I couldn’t see what was hovering above me because of the blinding light in my eyes, but I knew from the noise that it was a helicopter.
“Don’t move!” a loud voice blared from the helicopter’s loud speaker. The wash from the blades threw sand and gravel all around me. I covered my eyes and turned away from the chaos. I saw blue and red lights illuminating the night in the distance. I could just hear the faint sound of sirens amongst the overwhelming noise of the blades above me. Three sheriff’s cars came into view, heading right towards me.
I knew that bitch was calling the cops on her cell phone. That means she told them I raped her. I should have left as soon as she went weird on me. Now what?
Two sheriffs’ cars pulled up behind me and the third blocked me in front. The helicopter moved off and hovered a few hundred yards away. The bright emergency lights replaced the helicopter’s blinding white beam. All three cops exited the cars at the same time, each resting their hands on their unsnapped holsters.
“What you doing out here, son?” a large deputy asked.
“I’m walking home,” I said. “I live at the Windall Apartments.”
“You didn’t happen to be coming from the university, were you son? It’s pretty late to be walking around.”
“No,” I lied. “I just got off work and I’m going home.
“What’s your name, boy?” the cop behind me asked.
I hesitated answering. I just wanted to be back in my apartment, watching TV, and relaxing. I could just imagine the scene back at Halvern Hill with Gerry, crying to the cops that I cut her clothes off and raped her. God, I’m an idiot. She set me up for some kind of perverse thrill. I panicked and bolted for the woods. I heard the cops shouting and the report of a gun. I jumped over a small palmetto, maneuvered around two small pines, and ran straight into a wire fence hidden by the brush. As I attempted to climb it, I saw the bright blue arc of a tazer in the corner of my eye. I stiffened, paralyzed by the current flowing through my muscles. I fell off the fence and gazed up at the stars for a moment, before passing out.
“Wake up boy. Get your ass up, scumbag! You got some splaining to do Dougie boy.”
My head pounded. My body felt like one big charley horse. A well dressed man in a light brown jacket, and a God-awful red tie, came into focus, just barely. He sat across a metal table from me, and tapped his pencil against a notebook. I slumped in the chair at first, but sat up once I realized where I was.
“Shouldn’t I be in a hospital?” I felt sick; my head hurt.
The man lit his cigarette and puffed on it, before speaking.
“No, Doug. I had our secretary check you out and she said you looked okay to her. That’s good enough for me, Dougie. Now I’m going to read you your rights.”
I sat up straighter in the chair to face him.
“What are you arresting me for? I didn’t do anything.”
“You know what’s funny, Doug. The only difference between you college boys and the usual scum we bring in here, is that college boys say, ‘They didn’t do anything,’ and the other uneducated scumbags say, ‘They didn’t do nothing.’ Other than that insignificant difference, you’re all the same pieces of shit. Now listen to your rights, college boy. You have the right to remain silent.”
“But I…,” I interrupted.
“Shut up Spencer, and listen. After I’m done, you can talk your ass off. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present before any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to represent you before any questioning. Do you understand these rights?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Doug, do you want a lawyer or do you want to talk?”
“I’ll talk,” I said. “She set me up. She told me to rip her blouse off. She made me cut her bra and panties. It was a setup. I didn’t want to do those things. I thought we were just going to make out. That’s the truth!”
The detective crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray.
“Why’d you run then, Dougie boy? If you’re innocent, why did you run from the deputies?”
“I was scared. I knew that she told you guys that I attacked her. It’s bullshit. She made me rip her clothes off and cut her bra. She made me!”
“Oh yeah? She made you, huh? Well Dougie, did she make you choke her and then stab her a couple of times to make sure she was dead? Did she make you do that too?”
“Dead! She’s dead?” My heart raced. I couldn’t breathe. How could she be dead? She can’t be.
“She’s not dead!” I yelled. “She was fine when I left the car. I saw her making a phone call.”
“Yeah, that’s right, Doug. You saw her make a phone call and then you went back to her car and choked her. But you weren’t sure she was dead, so you stabbed her and then you stabbed her again. Didn’t you, Doug? You killed Gerry Washburn, a beautiful, young, medical student, because you didn’t want to go to jail for raping her, right?”
He grabbed my head and held it in front of his face. He smelled like pepperoni and cigarettes.
“What did you do Doug? Go for a walk near the school, looking for pretty girls? Did you see the Washburn girl sitting in her car and decide to get a little of that? Is that what happened Doug? I hope you enjoyed yourself, because there aren’t any women where you’re going. You better get used to a new kinda love, Dougie. A little boy like you will make a nice trophy.”
I stood up. “I didn’t kill her! I swear to God, I didn’t kill her!” I put my head down on the table and sobbed. “I want a lawyer... I want a lawyer, now!”
The trial was short by most standards, just three weeks. I actually enjoyed my time in court after six months in prison awaiting my trial. I didn’t find out that I had failed the polygraph test until the prosecutor requested to place it into evidence, and the judge refused. I was so scared and nervous when they gave me that test, that there was no way I was going to pass it.
I didn’t kill Gerry Washburn. I’ve said it a thousand times, but no one believes me. My parents attended every court date for the first two weeks, but after the prosecutor presented all the damning evidence against me, they stopped believing me too. Now, only the closing arguments are left, and then it will be up to twelve people I’ve never met, to decide on my innocence or guilt. Twelve people who will never see me again once the trial ends.
“Is the State ready to give its closing arguments,” the judge said.
“We are your honor.”
“Alright, proceed then, and I remind you Mr. Wells, that I would like to complete your’s and the defense’s closing arguments before we adjourn. This will give the jury two days extra this week to deliberate, if they need the time. Do both parties agree?”
“Yes your honor,” the prosecutor said.
“Yes your honor,” my young, inexperienced attorney, Jay Cohen said.
“Mr. Wells?”
“Thank you, your honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I would first like to review the proceedings of the trial for the last three weeks. Gerry Washburn came from a highly respected family right here in Seneca. Both her parents are professionals, well known in their field. Gerry was not only beautiful, but she also inherited her parents’ great intelligence and drive. At
“There are no cameras at Lathem’s. It’s an old gas station and the owner never had them installed. So, without video, we can’t see Gerry in the store. She didn’t use a credit card for gas so there’s no electronic record of her being there. So what does tell us she was there? Her fingerprints on the gas pump. Her fingerprints on the door. Her fingerprints on the gum rack. Her fingerprints all over that station tell us that she was there the last night of her life.
“Now,” … Wells looked at some papers in his hand and lowered some reading glasses from the top of his head. “Now…” he repeated, and addressed the jury again.
“We now know that Gerry Washburn was there, but what about Doug Spencer. What did he do next? I will tell you. Spencer grabbed a jackknife from somewhere in the station and used it to kidnap Gerry Washburn. He locked the door to the store area as if it was just another night and then he forced Gerry into her car and made her drive to an isolated spot at Halvern Hill. I think you and Gerry’s parents have had quite enough of the details of the horrible events that took place after she parked her car. You have had to listen for three weeks to the gruesome details and that’s plenty enough for anyone. But I will need to review briefly, what occurred that night, and I will try to be sensitive to Gerry’s parents.
After Gerry parked the car, Doug Spencer ripped or cut off Gerry’s clothes, and raped her while he threatened her with his knife. We have his fingerprints all over that car. They’re on the seat, the door handle, the steering wheel, and the knife. They are all over that car and they are all pointing to the killer sitting over there!” He pointed again at me. I lowered my head to avoid looking at the jurors.
“After he raped her, he removed the keys from the ignition, threw them out the window with the intention of escaping, and preventing her from driving away after he left. He forgot one thing though, as he walked away; Gerry Washburn had a cell phone. Unfortunately for Gerry, Spencer saw the illuminated display of the phone while she called 911. What did he do then? He went back to the car and stabbed Gerry with the jackknife, but Gerry bravely fought back and knocked the knife out of Spencer’s hand. The knife lodged between the armrest and the passenger seat of the car. Spencer, though he vainly tried, was unable to locate the knife. Frustrated, and without the knife to stab her, he had to take her life with the only weapon available… his hands. It took a long time to choke Gerry to death, according to the evidence you heard from the medical examiner, but she finally succumbed to the vicious strangulation.
Doug Spencer took the life of a stranger that night. He had no idea that this beautiful girl might someday become a respected doctor, and perhaps even a wife and mother. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. He only wanted to rape and kill her, not know or understand her. Doug Spencer’s parents care about him and want him to live, but Gerry Washburn also had parents that love her and they will never be able to see her or hold her again.
Ladies and gentlemen, it is you moral duty to avenge Gerry Washburn. It is your moral duty to find Douglas Spencer guilty of first degree murder and it is also your duty to recommend the death sentence for the horrible crimes he has committed. The state asks you to sentence Doug Spencer to the same fate he forced upon Gerry Washburn. We ask that you do your duty.”
I wondered why the prosecutor hadn’t mentioned the details of the 911 call that Gerry made, right after I left her car. Earlier in the trial they played the audio tape of it with the jury absent. Gerry sounded frantic on the call, but gave a good description of me to the operator. She never mentioned my name, and now that I think about it, why would she? If the police found out she knew my name then it would be unlikely, in their minds, that I raped her. Rapists don’t give their names to their victims.
No one believes me when I say I didn’t kill Gerry Washburn. Not the police, not my parents, or even the jury. I watched the jury carefully while the prosecutor spoke and I could tell from their reaction that they believed everything he said. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I killed her and repressed the memory of it. That would explain why I failed the polygraph test and why I ran when the deputies questioned me alongside the road that night. Maybe I went crazy when I saw Gerry calling the police and I went back to the car to kill her. What if I am guilty?
“Mr. Cohen,” the judge said, looking over to my table. “Your turn.”
My lawyer grabbed a few papers and squeezed my shoulder as he stood.
“It’ll be alright, Doug,” he said. “They’ve got nothing.”
He walked over to the judge’s bench, handed him a few papers and walked over to the jurors.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Mr. Wells mentioned that evidence was the mainstay of the state’s case. He spoke of the importance of evidence in the beginning of his statement, and then proceeded to offer you very little of it. He reviewed and presented an entire case built solely on conjecture. Now let me now build mine based on evidence, or actually the lack thereof. You as a jury must, after listening to me, decide honestly if there is actually enough forensic evidence to convict Douglas Spencer. If there is any reasonable doubt in your mind then you cannot honestly convict him.
Let’s start at Lathem’s gas station where Doug worked that night. It is true that Gerry Washburn was there. Her fingerprints on the gas pump and inside the store show “only” that she was there and I emphasize, only. In the mindset of the State, those fingerprints somehow prove Doug Spencer kidnapped Gerry Washburn and made her drive him to Halvern Hill. But, there are no witnesses that saw them. There were no cameras that filmed them. There was no evidence at all.
Then there was the supposed rape. Again it’s true; Doug did have sexual intercourse with Gerry Washburn, that’s undeniable. But what it really came down to was Doug’s word against Gerry’s. She made the 911 call to the police and said she had been raped. She said! What if she was lying about being raped? Why? God knows. But, she might have been. Maybe she was angry, who knows. But is that enough information to put reasonable doubt in your mind? It should. I know it would mine.
Now, there’s the unexplained mystery of Gerry’s murder. Who killed Gerry Washburn? It might have been my client, as Mr. Wells said, but it might have been someone else. Doug’s fingerprints were on the knife that stabbed Gerry Washburn, but he had said in the police interrogation, that he admitted using the knife to remove her clothes. But there again, that evil monkey, reasonable doubt, rears its head. It rears its head everywhere in this case. You can’t deny its presence, ladies and gentlemen. The life of my client, a twenty-year-old college student, who up to this point has never even had a traffic ticket, is at stake. How, you must ask yourself, can someone turn overnight from being a model citizen into a sadistic killer? They can’t.
Let’s review what actually happened that night.
Gerry Washburn drove into Lathem’s gas station at 9 p.m. She purchased gas, gum and cigarettes. She flirted with Doug Spencer, and he flirted back, as any young man his age would do. Gerry didn’t pay for her purchases that night because Doug refused payment in order to impress her. At that point, she invited Doug to go to Halvern Hill, with the implied intention of having sexual relations with him. At 11 p.m., she picked Doug up at the store and they drove to Halvern Hill.
Gerry and Doug wanted to have sex at that point. Gerry, for reasons known only to her, wanted rough sex. She ordered Doug to rip her blouse and then cut her bra and panties off. He did, and then they had consensual intercourse. When they finished, she ordered him out of the car and forced him to walk home. Doug was upset, but he walked away just as she had ordered him to. He last saw Gerry Washburn, alive, and talking on her cell phone. After that, we only know that Gerry Washburn was brutally murdered. We know someone murdered her, but we don’t have any evidence as to who murdered her. All we know is that it wasn’t Doug Spencer.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, there is an enormous amount of reasonable doubt in this case. You cannot honestly, morally and without doubt, convict my client. Doug Spencer is guilty only of poor judgment. He is most definitely not guilty of committing any crime against Gerry Washburn, and that must be your verdict… not guilty. Please, I beg you, for the sake of this young man, make the right choice. Thank you.”
“Jay Cohen retrieved the papers from the judge’s desk and sat next to me. He whispered in my ear “piece of cake.” The judge sent the jurors to their room for deliberations and recessed until a decision could be reached, and they were ready to return to court. The jury deliberated three days. This supposedly was good news for me, according to my lawyer.
“If they take that long, it usually means they’re deadlocked,” he said.
As it turned out, they were deadlocked; not over my guilt or innocence, but on whether I should get the death penalty or spend the rest of my life in prison.
The judge addressed the foreman. “Have the members of the jury reached a verdict?”
“We have your honor,” The foreman said, and handed a piece of folded paper to the bailiff, who handed it to the judge. The judge read it and then looked over to me.
“Will the defendant please rise?” he said.
My lawyer and I stood at the same time; Cohen patting my back softly, to reassure me, or perhaps he felt sorry for me. The judge read the note aloud.
“For the count of first degree murder, we the jury, find the defendant, Douglas Spencer, guilty.”
“Thank you,” the judge said to the Foreman. “And has the jury decided on a recommendation for sentencing, as of yet?”
“We have your honor,” the Foreman said. “We recommend life in prison.”
“Thank you again, Mr. Foreman, and I’d like to also thank the rest of the jurors for their consideration and attentiveness. I will, at this time, proceed with the sentencing of the defendant.”
The judge sat back and removed his glasses.
“Mr. Spencer, against my better judgment, I will go along with the jury’s recommendation and sentence you to life in prison at the state penitentiary. May God forgive you, and save your soul.”
I turned back and watched my mother and father walk out the doors in the back of the courtroom. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I was Gerry Washburn’s murderer.
Two years went by faster than I would have thought; considering my life was now structured around a six-by-six room I shared with what seemed like a new roommate every month. The prison guards had a hard time finding somebody to room with me that wouldn’t rape or kill me. There was one guard though, who decided, for some reason, to be my guardian angel. Wade Johnson. Wade was black, six foot three and built like a professional wrestler. He said I was so small and ugly that he had better take care of me or these buzzards would eat me up. If it wasn’t for Wade looking out for me I’d have been dead by now.
Only one relative visited me in the last two years, my mother, and that was the first week I was here. There have been two appeals since my sentencing, but so far, nothing’s come of them. I looked forward to just talking to my lawyer when he’d visit me during those appeals. You can deal with just about everything in here, except loneliness. Not having someone to confide in hurts the most. That’s why it was a tremendous relief, one day, to receive a letter from my old girlfriend, Amy. She wrote, hoping to resume correspondence with me, just like when we were dating. At first, I was hesitant, not wanting to form any relationship, knowing I’ll never be released from prison, but after several letters, I found myself anticipating the mail each day, hoping one of her letters would be included.
Wade banged his nightstick on the bars of the cell.
“Hey, Spencer. You got a visitor.”
I jumped out of the bunk and grabbed the bars.
“Me? I have a visitor? You’re kidding me Wade, right?”
“Hell no, boy. She’s waiting down there now. Ain’t no goddamn conjugal though. Too bad for you, huh?”
“Who is it?” I asked.
“I dunno,” he said, looking at a card. “Says… Hildreth on the card. C’mon let’s go.”
My first visitor in a year, and it turned out to be Amy Hildreth. I wondered if she was as pretty as the photo she included in the last letter. She never mentioned visiting me in her letters.
Wade attached the cuffs, shackles, and chains to my hands and ankles, and we walked down two hallways toward the visiting room. I flinched each time an automatic door closed loudly behind us.
“Y’oughta get her to do a conjugal next time, Dougie,” Wade said as he stared at Amy through the small window of the entrance. “She’s a piece, she is.”
I waved to Amy as I sat down in the chair in front of the huge Plexiglas partition that separated us. I pointed to Amy’s telephone and lifted my own to my ear. She lifted her receiver tentatively and placed it to hers.
“Hi,” she said, smiling at me.
“Hi. This is a surprise. Would you believe that you’re my first visitor in a year, including my parents?
“I know Doug. After all your nice letters I thought I’d come out and see how you really are. You really can’t tell how someone is by their letters, especially if they’re in a horrible place like this. And I missed you too. Did you miss me?”
“Sure,” I said. “It’s been a long time since we broke up and the more time in here that I have to think about it, the more I regret leaving you. We had a pretty good time for those few months.”
I hoped I was saying the words she wanted to hear. Who knows, maybe Wade’s right, and I might “get a conjugal” next time.
“Yes, Doug. You never should have broken up with me. I thought we loved each other. Maybe if we had stayed together, this never would have happened, and you wouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right Amy. But I want you to believe me. I swear to God, I did not kill Gerry Washburn! I swear, Amy!”
Amy pushed the phone closer to her mouth and lowered her voice.
“I believe you, Doug. I know you had nothing to do with her murder. I know you didn’t kill her because I know who the real murderer is.”
I accidentally dropped the phone and it made a loud clang when it hit the metal shelf. Wade and another guard turned to look at me and waited until I lifted it back to my ear before returning to their conversation.
“What did you say, Amy? You know who killed Gerry? Who? Who killed her?”
“I did,” she said matter-of-factly. I could see the reflection of my face in the Plexiglas and realized it was ashen. It felt as if all the blood had drained to my feet.
“Don’t talk Doug, just listen,” she said. “You see, Doug, no boy breaks up with me. Just look around you and you can see what happens to anybody that screws with me, and thinks they can get away with it. After you left me, I had a lot of free time to plan how I was going to pay you back for your cruelty.
“I met Gerry just by accident at the coffee shop on
“You’re goddamn crazy.”
“Shh, Doug, let me finish. Anyway, we got to be good friends and bared our souls to each other. It turns out that the beautiful medical student had a little gambling problem. Daddy and Mommy would send her money and she’d head right for the Indian casinos and blow it all. She was desperate Doug. What could I do? I told her how I wanted revenge on you for being such a shit and that maybe I could offer her a solution for her problem if she’d help me with mine. I gave Gerry $5,000 to pay off her initial debts with a promise of $20,000 more if she agreed to my plan to have you charged with rape. It’s funny what a little cash will make you do when you’re desperate. Gerry agreed, and we set up our elaborate plan to trap you. I knew Gerry would have no trouble seducing you, since I knew you’d screw anything that was warm. As it turned out, I was absolutely right, wasn’t I Doug? It was a wonderful scheme, wasn’t it? We made absolutely sure you were by yourself in the store that night, and Gerry was very careful. I told her you wouldn’t have a car since you’re such a loser and I bought her the knife and even suggested the location of Halvern Hill. The plan was to get you to handle the knife and screw Gerry, which you did rather pathetically. I was right outside the car the whole twenty seconds while you made love to Gerry. On cue, she kicked you out, and called 911 to have you arrested for rape. Our plan then, was for me to cut her slightly, choke her carefully and leave a few bruises. We had to make it look like she put up a struggle or the police might not believe her.
“Unfortunately, that’s when my plan went all wrong. First, I slapped her on the face and arms hoping secretly that I would draw a little blood, and then she let me choke her some to be on the safe side. But then, Doug, something came over me. While I was straddling Gerry and squeezing her neck, it occurred to me that I had a wonderful opportunity literally staring me right in the face. Why should I pay Gerry $20,000 to have you charged with a crime that may or may not hold up in court? It was at that point that I decided to squeeze that beautiful girl’s neck even harder and not stop until she was dead. Let me tell you though, Doug, she put up quite a fight. She looked dead to me as I climbed off of her but just to be sure; I grabbed the jackknife and stabbed her a few times. Thank God I had enough sense to wear gloves. I placed the knife in the armrest, shut the door of the car and walked over to where my car was parked, about a quarter of a mile away. And, Doug, we all know what happened after that, don’t we?”
I pushed my left palm against the partition and yelled in the phone.
“You stupid bitch! You damn, stupid bitch!”
The commotion caught the attention of Wade and the other guard. They started walking towards me. “You won’t get away with this Amy! I swear to God you won’t!”
“Well, you see, Doug,” she said quietly. “I already have. Bye love, enjoy your stay.”
She hung the phone up and walked out. Wade grabbed me from behind and stood me up.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, Spencer? You can’t yell at visitors like that. You got no sense, boy.”
“Wade!” I exclaimed. “She did it. She told me she did it. She just confessed to killing that girl.”
“What are you talking about Spencer? What girl?”
“The girl they charged me with killing. Amy, my ex-girlfriend, just admitted to me that she killed Gerry Washburn. You’ve got to tell the warden, Wade. You’ve got to stop her from leaving the prison. My God, Wade, she’s just walking out!”
Wade clasped the handcuffs on me and turned me towards the door.
“That’s okay, Doug. We don’t need to stop her. You know prisoners ain’t got no rights in here, boy. Hell, man, the warden tape records every conversation on them visitor phones. Don’t you know everything she said was recorded? I think we need to get you to a phone so you can call you a good lawyer. Don’t you think?”
I spread my arms, as far as the handcuffs would let me, and hugged my big, black, guardian angel.
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