by S. B. Cody
Brody’s shoes had begun to fall apart and despite his hatred of having to buy new ones, he couldn’t deal with Christine’s nagging him about it anymore. So he relented to her wishes and headed off to the mall to buy a new pair, Mandy in tow.
He sat on a bench perusing through the different pairs, unable to find any in his size. Christine always enjoyed teasing him about his “clown feet.” All around him, Mandy hopped up and down, squealing.
“Daddy, I want to go!” she begged.
“You and me both, sweetie,” Brody responded. “Not much longer.”
“But you said that you’d take me to the park!” she whined.
“And I will. Please stop.” He continued to search the shelves, trying to ignore the headache she had started to give him. It proved a futile endeavor as she began tugging on his arm and whimpering. At that he dropped the pair he was looking at and whipped around to look at her. Christine often got frustrated with him saying that he spoiled Mandy, forcing her to play the bad guy. At this moment, he usurped that position as he made himself look every bit the bad guy. Eyes narrowed, lip quivering, vein bulging out of his forehead.
“Mandy,” he uttered, making sure to hit every syllable, “you need to stop right now. Do you understand me? If you don’t shut it, the only place you’re going is your bedroom when we get home.” Without even realizing it, Brody made it through the entire speech without blinking once, exposing his daughter to every ounce of subdued rage that laid within him. Her eyes widened and the dam broke. Brody’s face softened at the sight of his daughter welling up. He started to apologize, but she turned and ran off out of the store. Brody hopped up to take off after her, but just as he stood, he clipped the shelf, sending a stream of shoes cascading onto the ground.
“Fuck!” he screamed out, looking on at the mess he had just created. That brief delay proved to be the death knell for Mandy. Brody would never see her alive again. The last words he would ever speak to her would be ones of anger.
He and Christine had never been a couple that fought much but they went at one another that night once the police had left.
“How the fuck could you let this happen?!” She screamed at him. Brody sat before her, cowering as though he were a kid in the principal’s office. He wanted to say something in his defense, but found that he couldn’t muster it. All he could do was imagine what horror his daughter was experiencing, and wondering if she cried out for him. Or maybe he had scared her too much. Maybe she was glad to be rid of him.
“You son of a bitch. I can’t even look at you right now.” Christine left the room. The two of them barely spoke to one another for the next week. It was at that time that the police found Mandy. Her body at least. She’d been stabbed a dozen times and left on the side of the road. Brody and Christine’s marriage died a month later.
For a whole month, Brody did nothing but drink himself to sleep every night. The brief moments of sobriety were filled with his fantasies of what he would do if he ever came across the sick fuck who had hurt his daughter. Thinking back to it now, Brody felt disturbed by the things that occurred to him. Things that would have been over the line in torture porn. That came to an end once the bastard had been caught above board.
Two things struck Brody when he finally got to see him in court. First, the man seemed so pathetic. Thin and wiry. Hair that had started to thin even though he was only in his twenties. Not the diabolical mastermind he had envisioned. Just some asshole with a history of kiddie porn for whom the pictures no longer sufficed. Then when it came down to it he panicked and figured killing the little girl was his best bet. Still didn’t bother to wipe his prints off her. Second, seeing him in shackles, face in panic when the life sentence was handed down, provided Brody with a sense of relief that he hadn’t thought possible. Soon after, Brody decided that he needed to become a cop himself. He found the thought that he could find people like the bastard who killed his Mandy more satisfying than those thoughts of revenge had been. And so become a cop he did, only to find that it suited him more than any of the other bullshit jobs he had held.
Brody threw back a couple fingers of whiskey. Once he had joined the force he’d made a point of limiting his drinking. With this case, though, he needed it. Seeing all those kids torn apart with bullets, lying in their own blood, brought images of Mandy back to him. Every time he saw one of those kids, he saw Mandy in their place. Hell, if things hadn’t been cut short for her, she would have been there. With Farrah right in front of him, Brody had been tempted to wring his throat, blaming him for each of those deaths.
15
Kara and Brody readied the interrogation room. They weren’t likely to get much time outside of it today, so it needed to be comfortable and stocked with anything they may require. Kara set out all their notes while Brody prepared the TV setup they had wheeled in. Their tech department had been given the unenviable task of compiling and organizing all the security camera footage so that they could pull up whatever they needed.
Kara examined the list of people they had coming in. From nine to five they had twenty different interviews. They figured most of them would go by quickly. Couldn’t imagine that many had much useful information, but if this job had taught her anything it was not to assume anything. Hell, she’d just had to learn that lesson the hard way.
Connor sat waiting for someone to call him back for his interview. He didn’t know why, but he felt guilty just being around all these cops. He’d seen other teachers and some students filter in and out the whole time he’d been sitting there. No words were spoken between any of them. Only a polite nod. To exchange hearty greetings at such a time seemed gauche.
“Connor Sullivan,” a soft voice called from behind the main desk. Connor put up his hand as though he were in school and then rose to follow the officer back. He knew that Brandy must have been going nuts waiting for him at home. She had said she wanted to come with him, but he insisted that he go by himself. He needed the time alone to sort out all that happened so he could recount it accurately.
The officer led Connor to the interrogation room where Kara and Brody waited for him. They both rose from their seats to greet him.
“Mr. Sullivan. I’m Detective Smalls. This is my partner, Detective Morgan. We’re leading the investigation into the shooting. Thank you for coming in,” Kara said, shaking his hand. “Please take a seat.” Connor took a seat across from the two. He felt even more uncomfortable coming into this room. Whole place was a small square and a dingy gray all over. A slight chill caused him to shiver as he sat down in the chair. Connor hoped this wouldn’t take long. The little bit of cushion in the chair didn’t go far in protecting him from the hard steel underneath.
“Can we get you anything? Coffee, soda?” Brody offered.
“I’m okay,” Connor replied.
“Okay, well let’s get started,” Kara said as she pushed play on the recorder that sat in front of her. “First, let us assure you that this interview is entirely a matter of routine. You should not take your presence here as a sign that you are under any kind of suspicion. We just ask that you be open and honest with us because it will aid our investigation. Do you have any questions?” She rattled off the spiel that she had been reciting all day. It had already begun to lose meaning.
“No, ma’am,” Connor said.
“Okay. To begin with, please state your full name and occupation.”
“Connor Brian Sullivan. I teach 10th grade English at Stanford West High School.”
“How long have you been working there?”
“For the last five years.”
“Would you please state in your own words, your experiences during the shooting?”
Connor, hoping he wouldn’t need to tell this story too many times in the days to come, began speaking. “Well… the second period had just begun and…”
“What time would that have been?” Brody interjected.
“Uhh… let’s see… that would’ve been about 8:30.”
�
�Okay, please continue.”
“So, second period had just started when the call came over the intercom that there was a shooter in the building. So I jumped up and locked the door to my room. Shoved a cabinet in front of the door. Turned off the lights. Had the kids get against the wall.” He stopped talking and replayed everything in his head, trying to figure out if there had been anything else. “Oh, and then I called 911, but they’d already been notified.” Connor stopped there and watched the two detectives scribble down illegible notes on the pads in front of them. He knew they expected him to go on to the more dramatic events. He hesitated, a bit embarrassed by the whole thing.
“Please go on,” Kara said, only looking up for a brief second before returning to their pad.
“So I heard someone unlocking the door…”
“How long after the announcement was this?” Brody asked.
“I don’t know. Fifteen minutes or so. I wasn’t really keeping track,” Connor said. “Anyway, the door opens up and I see a gun. And from there it’s kind of a blur.” Connor’s voice began to shake. “I know a couple shots went off, and then the next thing I knew, I was facing the shooter, and I… I… just sorta pushed him out of the room.”
“Was it just the one shooter?” Kara asked.
“Yeah. That’s the only one I ever saw. It wasn’t until later that I found out that there had been more than one.”
“Did you notice anything about the shooter? Height? Weight? Anything?”
“No, not really. I remember he had a mask on but I couldn’t even tell you about what kind.”
“That’s okay. Now, we are looking at any students who may have been out of class at the time. The bathroom pass from your room listed a… Dennis Clements,” Kara said, referencing her notes. “What can you tell us about him?”
“You think Dennis did this?” Connor almost wanted to laugh at this. On most days Denny looked like a breeze would push him over. The idea that he could’ve gunned down thirty people… it just didn’t fit.
“We’re simply looking at anyone whose presence we can’t account for during the time of the shooting or immediately following.”
“Well, he’s a pretty good kid. Quiet, but smart. Never had any problem with him.”
“How quiet?” Brody asked.
“Umm… very?” Connor said, unsure of how to answer. “I don’t really know of any friends he has. He rarely speaks up in class. Seen him around school, though, and he’s a nice kid. Helps out other people and… I… I don’t really know what else to say.”
“Okay. Well, did anything strange happen that morning before the shooting?”
“Well, I teach high school. Most days are kinda strange.”
Brody smiled a bit at that. “Sure. But anything that stuck out that morning?”
“No. Not really.”
“That’s fine. We just have to ask,” Kara said with a smile. “Now we have security footage of the shooting. Would you mind taking a look at the footage from outside your room with us? We just want to see if maybe it helps you remember anything else.”
“Sure.” Connor turned to the TV as Brody clicked away at the laptop. The screen sprang to life with the grainy black-and-white footage. Connor’s story played out on the screen. He saw the shooter approach, remembering now that he had been wearing a hockey mask. His door opened up and the struggle ensued. From this angle in the hallway, you couldn’t really tell what went on. Not even a whole minute had passed before the struggle ended, and the shooter fell into the hallway.
Brody stopped the video and turned to Connor. “Help you remember anything else?”
Connor hesitated, as in the back of his head some small detail called towards him. He attempted to make it out, but a dense fog clouded it from sight. “No,” he finally answered, assuming that if it were all that important, that he would remember it.
“Okay. No problem,” Kara said as she and Brody stood. Connor followed their example. “Thank you for coming in. Is it okay to contact you if we have any further questions?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Great. Well, if you think of anything else, please let us know.” Kara held out her card with her phone number on it. Connor took it, placed it in his wallet, gave a polite nod, and left the room.
Terry sat leaning back in the interrogation room chair with Julie sitting right beside him. She nudged him and motioned for him to put the legs down. Julie struggled to compose herself as she became increasingly frustrated with her son. He did not seem to be taking this very seriously.
“So, Terrance,” Kara began. “You’re enrolled at Stanford West High School?”
“Uh-huh,” he muttered, not even looking at Kara or Brody. Julie wanted to say something but knew it would be frowned upon if she began inserting herself into the interview.
“Please answer yes or no,” Kara said.
“Yes, I am,” Terry told her.
“Age and grade?”
“Sixteen. I’m a junior.”
“Now we have a bathroom pass here that said at the end of first period you left Ms. Merrin’s government course?”
“Uh yeah, I guess I did.”
“Had you made it to class by the start of second?”
“No, I hadn’t.”
Julie began to squirm in her seat. It almost sounded like they were accusing Terry of something. She wanted to stand up and announce that she wouldn’t stand for this, but forced herself to stay seated. She knew these two were just doing their jobs.
“So when you left Ms. Merrins’s class, did you head to the bathroom?” Kara asked.
Terry opened his mouth and then hovered over his words for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally said.
“Which bathroom was that?”
“There’s one a few doors down from her room. That one.”
“Were you in there when the lockdown happened?”
“Yup.”
“What did you do?”
“I was heading out of the bathroom when I heard it. That’s right near a staircase, so I ran down and went outside.”
“That’s a long time to be in the bathroom,” Brody said.
“I was taking a dump.” At this Julie hung her head, not able to hide her annoyance anymore.
“Fair enough. Well, we have some security footage. If we played it for you, would you be able to point yourself out on it?”
“Ummm… yeah.” Terry once again seemed confused as to how to answer. Brody clicked away and brought up a file with videos of students in the hall from shortly before the shooting. The file switched from one to another with no sign of Terry even when it landed on the camera from just outside the bathroom he had claimed to be at. As the video went on with no sign of her son, Julie looked over at Terry with a mixture of anger and confusion. She turned back to the video just as a clip of Terry walking towards an exit popped into view. She whipped her head back to him, waiting for him to say something. When it became clear that that wouldn’t happen, she finally spoke up.
“That’s him,” Julie said while pointing at the screen. Kara and Brody looked down at the timestamp to see that the video was from 8:23am. Everyone in the room turned to look at Terry.
“Terrance. Is it possible that you were mistaken about the time that you left?” Kara asked.
“Well… I…” Terry’s eyes darted everywhere as he attempted to find a way to explain himself.
“Tell them the truth, Terry,” Julie directed at her son in a measured tone.
Terry lowered his head now. “I didn’t go to the bathroom. I was skipping.”
“Why?” Kara asked, seeming genuinely fascinated.
“Johnny and I were meeting up to smoke.”
“Who’s Johnny?”
“Johnny Lemming. A friend of mine.” Both Kara and Brody flipped through their notes.
“We don’t have a record of him being out of class,” Brody said.
“I didn’t end up seeing him out there. I don’t know where he was.”
“Anyt
hing else you want to tell us?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” Julie said again, fury rising in her eyes.
“I’m sure. I’m sorry.”
“Okay then. Well, we’ll be in touch if we need anything else,” Kara said with a quiver in her voice. The agitation emanating from Julie towards her son had become palpable. Julie and Terry stood. She led her son out of the room assuring him that they would speak about this at home.
Dennis took a seat and hunched over the table in front of him, his hair hanging over his eyes. His mother hadn’t been able to get off of work to be with him here, and his dad still hadn’t gotten back from his errand to get cigarettes ten years ago. Prior to leaving for work, his mother had given him a pep talk, telling him that all would be okay. As long as he told the truth, he’d be fine. After all, he had nothing to hide.
“Would you mind looking up at us, son?” Brody asked.
Dennis lifted his head and threw his hair out of his eyes.
“So you are a student at Stanford West High School?” Kara began.
“Yeah,” Dennis replied, his voice ready to shatter.
“Age and grade?”
“Tenth grade, and I’m sixteen.”
“So please tell us about what happened on Tuesday morning from your point of view.”
“Well, I was in the bathroom when I heard the announcement.” Kara and Brody offered each other a glance. This seemed to be a popular story today.
“Yes, we have that you left Mr. Sullivan’s first period to go to the bathroom. That’s a long time to be in there.”
Dennis didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t.
“So what did you do when you heard the call for the lockdown?”
“Well, I thought of making a run for it, but I was worried the shooter would see me. So, instead, I climbed out the window.”
“There’s a window in the bathroom?” Brody asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.