Today was probably the best day I’ll have. My energy was up, my appetite was existent. I was up and moving. I felt great.
I knew this thing was killing me, but it was giving me a break for once.
It took everything I had to keep fighting.
I walked over to Denise’s laptop, and turned it on. As the screen popped up, I went on the internet to search for the last attempt to find my parents. They needed to know I was dying. I’d think they should have the human decency that their black sheep son wasn’t going to survive much longer.
I pulled up news articles when the Brickwell’s were murdered – I had enough energy to smile. I kept scrolling around to find any form of information. I decided to look up where my parents worked, and made contact with my fathers employment.
After I dialed in a random number, I waited for it to pick up.
“Good afternoon, this is Timothy Turner’s office. How may I help you?” It was a male’s voice.
“Yes sir. Hi.” I covered my mouth as I coughed out of no where.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to cough in your ear.” I apologized.
“No worries! What can I do for you sir?”
“Is my father there? I’d like to speak with him.” I asked.
“I’m certain he’s in his office, let me double check and peak in. I’ll put you on a brief hold.”
* * *
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in.” My father said.
“Sir, there’s a phone call for you. It’s your son. He sounds very sick.”
My father looked up at his receptionist, “Strange. I just talked to James a moment ago. He sounded fine. Patch it through.” He said as he stood by his phone.
* * *
“Hi sir, are you still there?” He asked me.
“Yes sir I am.” I muted the microphone so I could cough more forcefully.
“Patching you through now, sit tight sir.”
The wait music played for a few seconds.
“James, what’s going on?”
“It’s not James.”
Dead silence.
“Who is this?” My dad asked, half hostile.
“Joseph.” I told my dad.
Dead silence, and then a deep sigh.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.” I coughed. “I was released from prison.”
“You got released early?” He asked, still a bit rough in his voice.
“I’m dying. That’s why I was released. Cancer. And it’s going to kill me.”
I heard my dad swallow roughly.
“Good. You don’t deserve to continue to exist. You’re a murderer. You’re getting what’s coming to you. Don’t call me ever again, and don’t call your mother.”
The line went dead.
My energy fully returned, and the old fire that I had inside me was suddenly burning brightly. I went into the bedroom that Denise had made for me, I grabbed a pair of jeans, a black hoodie, and my shoes that I got when she took me to the store.
I petted her sleepy German Shepard to wake him up, and kenneled him so he wouldn’t tear up the house.
I told him to not tell his mom I snuck him a snack before leaving. He was a good boy, and I felt bad for leaving him. So I roughed up his fur on his head before closing the kennel gate. He didn’t care, he was content with his snack.
After stepping outside, I took a deep breath to fill my dying lungs up, and I was going to pay a visit or two…maybe three.
After all, I was a dying man. And I wanted to finish what I started. I never found out who tried to kill me ten years ago, and I was going on a manhunt to find the ones responsible. I will fulfill my promise I made.
* * *
I was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, shackled by my wrists and ankles. A police officer at each of my sides as I entered the court room. Murmurs came from the public seating, the jurors watched me walk in as the police sat me down next to my lawyer, Mr. Wilcox.
They undid my shackles and wrist restraints.
“Today is the big day, Joseph. I hope you prayed.” He whispered in my ear.
“Has the jury come to a verdict?” The Judge looked over at the jury.
“We have your honor.” A young lady stood up.
“What say you?”
She pulled out a paper from her folder and read it while applying her glasses.
“For the charges of First Degree Murder of Daniel Brickwell, Cynthia Brickwell, and Randy Brickwell, we find the defendant guilty on all three charges.”
The murmurs got louder as the Judge tried to bring order to the court by using his mallet.
I smirked ear to ear.
“Do you have any last statements before I sentence you, Joseph Turner?” The Judge asked.
“Joseph, please don’t.” My lawyer suggested.
“This is my only opportunity.”
He sighed, “Fuck…”
I slid back my chair and stood up.
I looked at everyone.
“Daniel Brickwell was a disgusting human being. Preying on the innocent underage youth of women for years. And no one did anything about it because they feared him. Of his power. His reach. I ended his corruption. And I enjoyed it.”
The crowd got louder.
“And their siblings? They covered for him. Several times. They deserved to be in the ground as their punishment. And then, for my knowledge of what he did, I was hunted down, outside of law enforcement. I survived being shot. And when I get the fuck out of prison, I will find the person responsible for trying to kill me – and I will return the favor.”
“Put him in holding until he can calm himself down.”
I was snatched up by police as they hauled me off.
“I will find out who you are!“ I yelled as they dragged me off.
My mother was crying horribly, my dad tried to console her as they saw me get taken away.
In the very back of the public audience, was Nathaniel Woodford.
“Fat chance kid, I’ll be dead by the time you get out.” He said to himself as he and a couple of his body guards walked out with him.
* * *
I was sentenced as an adult, originally given 45 years in the psychiatric prison, but after some deliberation and consideration that I was not of sound mind, it was reduced to 25 as long as I maintained a good behavior and followed through with the court ordered mental health treatment. After the sentencing, I was transferred to the looney bin.
The first year was rough, I was on constant lockdown. Bound by chains and wrist restraints everywhere I went. I was a higher tier, labeled as dangerous.
Once the first year was done, they re evaluated my behavior, and I was allowed to be unshackled and have a bit more freedom in these prison walls. I took the medications, kept to myself, gave no one a hard time with me. I had to make it through these next 24 years.
Because when I get out, I’m going to find out who tried to kill me in the park – and make sure they suffer the same brutal end as the Brickwells.
I used to be a good kid.
Now? I’m a convicted murderer, a vigilante who gave up his rights to do what was necessary. But I was far from over….
Story Time 