Above the Law

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
A mysterious, tense tale of mis-guided loyalty and unbounding faith ends up with both characters heading into a tail-spin that they both can't understand.

Submitted: May 04, 2008

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Submitted: May 04, 2008

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 Above the Law
 
This was not your normal criminal. He’s smarter than that. His demeanor would make you think that this interrogation room was his home. You would think of the typical 40 year old man but he wasn’t. Though he was in his mid forties, he kept himself in good condition. He wore baggy clothes to hide muscles and a hat to hide his balding spot. Though he was self-conscience his arrogance oozed out of his body and seemed to enwrap any audience that he bared. His name was Alan Smith and wouldn’t be looked at twice on the street. Would criminal be the right word for this type of man? What if this “criminal” hasn’t been convicted yet? What if this criminal is innocent?
A fat, stocky policeman entered the interrogation room. Though he was previously observing the criminal in a cold air-conditioned room, he still broke into a cold sweat as he seated himself across from the man he had personally arrested. This policeman wasn’t one to be messed with. Picked on from the start of high school, he vowed to bring an end to bullying in schools. He started on that road but found it not exciting enough so joined the police force. Chief Inspector Henry Beasley hated these pompous suspects. They seemed to be like the same as the people who bullied him. They always seemed to make him nervous.
The policeman fiddled with a pen as he opened the case file which consisted of 20 pictures and a list of suspects. Each picture more graphic than the next and could have been straight out of an ex-police staff list. Each person had a badge. Each was part of the force. Each was dead.
“Do you know why you’re here?” The police grunted as he looked at the man he was trying to convict.
“Shouldn’t you be asking me first if I want a lawyer?” Was his reply; smiling; knowing that he was in control.
“Of course; you’re right. Would you like to use your right to a lawyer?” He wiped his brow as beads of sweat poured down like raindrops on a window.
“It is my god-given right… But…no… I have nothing to hide.” Alan gave that same confident smile. The smile that made the policeman feel so small and weak.
“Oh-Oh-Okay that sounds like a good idea.” Henry stammered as he placed the pen back on the table for the third time, “well do you know why you are here?”
“Hmm maybe you should remind me.”
“It all started 6 months ago. We got a 911 call saying that the person found a dead body on the shore. His chest was cut open in the shape of vertically and horizontally. We immediately contacted homicide. Over the last 6 months there have been six other cases of the same conditions. One coincidence that we’ve seen is that all of these victims are police or ex-police. This led to the status being brought up to high priority. After the publicized the number of killings increased dramatically. There are a total of twenty dead comrades of mines sitting in the morgue. We called this person the Christian Killer. We think this is the work of one man, one serial killer who really hates cops and has the cunning to elude all previous investigators before me. This man is you.”
You weren’t my first suspect; you weren’t even high on my list. One by one each suspect before you fell like dominoes until it reached you. Now you really have some explaining to do. The first idea that made you a suspect was the motive. As we both know you’re new to this city. We also know that in your 8 months being here most of them have been heavily involved in court-related dealings involving hostility to authorities, resisting arrest and assaulting police-officers. In your file – and yes – I pulled your file up and it says that you not only have priors in this city, but I also found priors in the previous city. This is a fairly small town. We already checked hotel records for multiple roomed used by the same person over a 12 month period. We found people who were frequently visiting family and interrogated them. You don’t fit either of these descriptions. The means also doesn’t seem to be in your favor. Though we haven’t found the weapon, we know that you have a registered 9mm, which was the type of weapon first used to kill the police before you slashed their body’s open. You’re a sick freak and I hope your rot in a prison cell forever.”
Alan was still sitting in his chair perfectly still while the Chief Inspector was explaining his theory. His face was completely relaxed; he even had a look of amusement by the end of the speech. He clearly wasn’t affected by any of the implications that the policeman had stated.
“That was touching,” he mused as he mocked playing the worlds’ smallest violin, “I especially like the part about dominoes falling all around me, sounds like something from a police movie. But, pray tell, what about the opportunity; I mean the motive, means and opportunity go together. What type of cop are you?”
“I’m the type of cop that will put you in jail. You’re a god-damn cop killer!” He slammed both hands down on the table as he stood up, “and as long as you’re alive you won’t get away with this.”
“You know what I hate the most about people like you.” The criminal for the first showed a visible outward emotion. His hand was clenched till it changed colors and his face turned red. “It’s that you idiots think your Christian or believe in God but you use his name in vain!” His voice was rising into a shout. The policeman wasn’t scared though. He knew all about this touchy subject. That’s how he got all of his infractions.
“Was that why you killed those cops? Just because they pissed you off? Just because they don’t hold your beliefs?”
Alan’s flushed cheeks were returning to normal color, and his hand unclenched curled around the arm-rest as he started to relax again.
“Have you ever heard of a man called George Francis?”
“No.”
“Well he had a very interesting life. He killed over thirty people by the time they caught up with him-”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“This is when you shut up and let me finish. Now this man, of course, eventually got caught. He was brought into an interrogation room much like this and with a policeman just as stupid as you. But do you know what happens next…? The policeman thinks that he can get smart, so he tells all his police buddies to stop watching and he would get a confession out of him. Then, against “police code” if you even follow that, he started to rough up George. Well, two hours later they found no sign of George and the policeman was found dead.” The criminal looked up into the eyes of Chief Inspector, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
 
***
The interrogation room looked as if a tornado had hit it. The desk was broken in half, splinters were scattered the room randomly. The chairs, completely dismantled had obviously been used to blow through the mirror which faked as a two-way mirror. The lone camera in the top corner of the room got the brunt of the other chair. Sparks flew from the wires while the rest of the camera was in more pieces than a puzzle. The criminal’s escape was far from quiet and could have been prevented if the police interrogations had more than one person. If you were to look at the policeman you would think that he was sleeping but in fact he was dying. The pool of blood coming from his head had turned as big as a puddle of water in the rain. The EMT couldn’t arrive soon enough for him to survive even though the other policeman thought that he had a slim chance. The table was the reason for his injuries, the injuries which would kill him. You could see where his head hit the table, where his life had ended. The criminal’s strength must have been more than the policeman thought and he obviously wasn’t prepared this type of interrogation. If only he had been more careful, if only he had been more…
Chief Inspector Henry Beasley finished looking at the pictures taken over five years ago. The criminal then was George Francis, who had killed over thirty people and is still on the loose today. Chief Inspector wiped his brow again as he looked deeper into the case file. Police had interrogated many suspects, and assumed he would be no different. The trouble they had with him is that he was completely silent, even though he didn’t want a lawyer. Was that why the policeman got violent? He seemed to have paid the ultimate price for this. But, the Chief Inspector had one question that kept running through his mind. How did this man know about this case?
As if on queue, Alan the criminal looked up and spoke, “Do you want to know how I found out about all this?”
“Well now that you mention it.”
“Don’t act dumb, it’s been running through your mind since I first talked about him. Well to answer your burning question, when I found out about these killings I started to investigate what type of person would do this. The George Francis case was very public, but was on the other side of the country. If you actually watched the news you would have known that. So I thought to myself, where would someone like that go. He couldn’t leave the country because his information would be brought up instantly and he had to be far enough away that he wouldn’t be recognized. He’s the man you’re looking for. I haven’t lied once since we’ve been here. You have no physical evidence to tie to this and I thank you for this waste of time. I’m leaving.”
The Chief Inspector stood up as Alan Smith the free man left. He knew there was no physical evidence but had hoped that he could outsmart him. Outsmart him! Alan Smith had told the truth the whole time and this new suspect George Francis would need to be checked out. The Chief Inspector sighed as he looked back down at the case file. He knew this would be a long day.
The Chief Inspector unlocked the doors to his car, case file of George Francis in his hand. Looking at it tonight would certainly help, even though his wife hates when he does it. The Chief Inspector hadn’t noticed the door beside him open as he fiddled trying to get the right key in the lock. He hadn’t noticed the 9mm pointed at his head. He hadn’t noticed Alan Smith’s face looking at his. He hadn’t noticed until it was too late.
“Act normal and I won’t shoot you, at least for now.” Alan Smith was in control again and had the same confident look that was in the interrogation room. Chief Inspector Beasley looked confused momentarily as the color drained from his face but then had enough sense to start the car and drive it onto the streets. People in other cars wouldn’t be able to see the gun and even if they did, they wouldn’t have enough time to report it.
“I thought you said that you hadn’t lied.”
“I didn’t. See sometimes I wonder how stupid you really are. Tell me this, when exactly did you ask me if I killed anyone?”
Henry Beasley turned the car onto the highway and sped up to match the speeds of the other cars. He was thinking if he had ever asked him those simple questions. How could he be so stupid? The only question that ever mattered and he forgot to say it. His determination was lost and he slumped back on his chair ready to await his fate.
“It was simple to stop you asking really. You were so worried about me that I could talk about anything and you would listen. I knew that eventually you would come after me. I knew how you would react to each thing that I would say. I knew that we would be at this exact point. Now don’t you want to know why I kill all of your friends, your comrades in arms?”
“Whatever.”
“See the second question you could have asked me is what is your real name?-”
“I don’t care, just kill me.”
“You will care! When you see what I did, when you see how dumb you are, you will care! I am George Francis! I am Alan Smith! I am the Christian Killer! I killed your kind because you all think you’re so perfect. That you’re above the law! Well your not! You’re not above God’s law and you must be punished for disobedience.”
“Who says that you can past judgment?” Both the criminal and the policeman’s voices were at a shout, “Who gives you the right to kill?”
“You can’t even begin to understand.” Alan had begun to calm down again, “now you’re going to pull over at these lights and maybe I won’t kill you.
The car sped up as the lights just changed red. It roared in between a set of cars going across the street as they both mashed brakes and beeped their horns almost simultaneously. The car weaved in between traffic still gaining speed. Alan Smith cocked the gun back and stuck it up to Henry Beasley’s head. Henry with a wild look in his eyes switched lanes doing over 120 mph, barely keeping in control. The traffic lights loomed ahead, red as blood. Alan Smith’s hand was trembling; he knew that killing Henry would make the car uncontrollable. Henry didn’t even flinch; he knew that this could be the end for him either hitting a car or getting shot. The traffic lights grew nearer, nearer, nearer. Alan couldn’t even control his breathing now as his eyes widened. They were almost there. They couldn’t stop now…
BANG! The Chief Inspector was instantly killed. Alan Smith’s hand relaxed as he put down the gun. The car was still speeding, but now uncontrolled it was turning into the middle of the road. He grabbed the wheel and tried to bring the car back into the lane, but it already crossed into the middle of the intersection. Alan looked across left to see no cars. He tried to look right but couldn’t see past the Chief Inspector. He cursed his luck and was even about to say “God damn it” when a Chevy truck collided with the right side of the car. The car spun out of control into the path of an oncoming truck, which ripped the front of the car apart. The killer, a bloody mess, looked up to the heaven and knew that he was finally going to meet his maker.


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