***
Dave and Nikki spent that night at a local motel. The next morning they talked to Joy and accepted her invitation to stay with her while dealing with their insurance company and various contractors until their house was habitable again. They felt relatively safe at Joy’s although Dave was sure that if Ron Mackey had more vengeance in mind, he could probably find them.
He waited to hear back from the police after the new round of questioning, but no one contacted him. When he called the police department for an update, hoping to hear that Ron had been arrested for at least arson, if not also attempted murder, he got nowhere. His calls were ultimately transferred to a voice mailbox for the officer in charge of the investigation.
Dave lived in constant fear, but did not reveal this to Nikki. Not at first. He didn’t want her to be as afraid and worried as he was. He acted as though he had faith in the police and the legal system. Since he had been assaulted while leaving a job, he was terrified it would happen again and so he postponed all of his appointments indefinitely. He found it nearly impossible to get to sleep because the slightest sound anywhere in the house seemed to be a confirmation that they were under assault.
The shotgun allowed for a measure of confidence in being able to defend himself and his family, but he felt incredibly vulnerable whenever he left Joy’s house and had nothing but a new cell phone for defense, so he started the process of purchasing a handgun. The salesman at the gun store told him he had to fill out a form, pass a federal background check, and that there was a state imposed waiting period.
Dave found the form to be laughable. It relied on him giving honest answers to questions such as, are you under indictment for a felony, are you mentally ill, are you a fugitive, are you a drug addict, and so on. Would anyone actually answer “yes” and thus sabotage their attempt to make a purchase? If so, why bother going to into a gun store to begin with? It didn’t make sense to him. Only the most extremely honest, and perhaps stupid person who didn’t know the laws but had every intention of obeying them would disqualify himself and leave empty-handed.
“I guess drug-dealers, serial killers, and assassins lie on these forms?” Dave asked the salesman.
The man laughed at Dave’s question.
“What?” Dave asked, smiling and wanting to know what was so funny.
“Criminals don’t buy their guns in stores,” he said, nearly doubling over now in laughter.
It immediately became clear to Dave how stupid his question was now that he looked at it from a different perspective. It made perfect sense that criminals would not subject themselves to legal scrutiny while acquiring tools to be used for committing crimes. Dave did not have much interest in politics and didn’t consider himself to be either left or right on such issues. He was peripherally aware that there were constant calls for additional gun laws to reduce crime, but he’d never given much thought to the issue. As he considered it now as one who was attempting to purchase a firearm, it seemed ludicrous to think that laws were going to affect criminals.
“If criminals don’t buy their guns in stores and go through background checks, then all of these laws don’t do anything except prevent unqualified honest people from buying guns,” Dave thought aloud.
“Yep,” the salesman replied.
“I must be missing something here.”
“Whattaya mean?”
“Well, there’s a big roaring debate in this country between opposing sides. The NRA people against the gun-control people. But you’re telling me the whole thing is actually pointless.”
“No, I wouldn’t say pointless. Let’s say a guy gets dumped by his girl and his first reaction is to wanna kill himself. He might feel a bit different about it after the mandatory three day waiting period.”
“I’m sorry—what’s your name, sir?”
“Ben.”
“I’m sorry, Ben, but as tragic as suicide is, it’s not really a social problem, and if someone really wants to kill themselves, they’re probably not going to change their minds just because one method isn’t available to them immediately. What’s to stop them from taking an overdose or hanging themselves during the waiting period?”
“Okay, but what if the girl dumped him for another guy and now that he’s had some time to think about it, he decides he wants to kill that guy instead of himself? Maybe after the wait, which some states even call a ‘cooling off period’, he might be thinking more clearly.”
“But the people calling for additional gun control laws aren’t talking about jilted lovers and depressed people. They make it sound like the laws will reduce crime, prevent school shootings. Stuff like that. I just don’t see that happening. If criminals don’t buy their guns legally – and why would they, being criminals and all – then a billion laws won’t change anything for them.
“Right you are,” Ben nodded.
Dave signed the bottom of the form, dated it, and slid it across the glass display case over to Ben. “So what happens next? I wait three days to see if I have a criminal record, then I can come back and get it?”
“Essentially, yes. There’s the three day wait, then there’s the background check which has to come back with some kind of response within three days. So the two kinda run neck ‘n’ neck in this state.”
“I guess I’ll see you in three days then. My record is spotless. I’m a little unhappy that I have to go three days without self-defense while a homicidal maniac is trying to kill me and my family, just to theoretically prevent someone else from committing a crime with a legally acquired gun. I still can’t wrap my head around that.”
“That’s ‘cause it ain’t about bein’ logical. Gun laws are about bein’ emotional. Otherwise we’d take away cars from people who get caught drivin’ drunk. Or we’d require them to have breathalyzers installed in their vehicles. A drunk driver kills someone every fifty-two minutes in this country and we ain’t really doing a damned thing about it. Give ‘em a fine. Suspend their license. Make ‘em go to AA meetings. Buncha nonsense. More people are killed every year by automobiles than by guns, but you don’t see people all emotional about that. You know why?”
“Uh…no.”
“Because just about everyone drives and no one has an emotional reaction to seein’ a car. And though people do run people over deliberately, it doesn’t happen every day, and cars weren’t designed for killing. But a gun? It’s meant to kill. That’s its job. And that freaks some people out. Scares the livin’ shit out of them. People who are terrified of something usually ain’t rational about it, now are they?”
“You just might be on to something there, Ben. I’m gonna give the matter more thought. Thanks for helping me pick out a gun and shining some light on the whole gun law thing.”
Dave reached out and shook Ben’s hand, then walked out of the store wondering if the hugely divisive issue was really that simple.
***
When he got back to his sister’s house, it was empty. There was a note on the table from Nikki saying that she, Jake, and Joy had gone to the park. He checked his business email on his laptop and responded to a few inquiries about piano tuning. He had nothing else to do now but wait. He leaned back and looked at the ceiling, and as he cleared his mind, one thing wouldn’t budge. Ron. This bastard Ron was imprinted on every moment of his life.
He grabbed his cell phone off the table and called the police again. He needed to know that something had been done about this asshole. Dave was surprised when his call was transferred to another line and someone actually picked up.
“Criminal Investigations – Burke”
“Officer Burke, I finally got a hold of you.”
“It’s ‘Sergeant.’ Who is this?”
“This is Dave Parsons. You were at my house a few days ago.”
“Name doesn’t ring a bell, but what I can I do for you?”
Dave heard phones ringing and people talking in the background. “Well, I was hoping you could give me an update on the person who assaulted me
, like telling me that he’s in jail.”
“Case number?”
Dave looked around. One of the officers had given him a business card with the case number written on the back. He had no idea where it was now. Probably at his house.
“I uh… I don’t have the number. Surely you remember talking to me just two days ago.”
“I’m sorry—What did you say your name is?”
“Parsons. Dave Parsons.”
“Right. I’m sorry, Mr. Parsons, but I talk to a lot of people in two days. If you can get the case number and call back at our main number—“
“Wait! How many people reported getting their head bashed in with a cell phone and having a rock with a threatening note tossed through their window, and their house set on fire shortly thereafter? Does that ring a bell?”
“Yes, it does. You say you’re calling for an update? Two days later?”
“Yes. Can you tell me if the man has been arrested and facing trial?”
“Unless something has changed, and I won’t know that without looking up the case, the alleged assailant is not in custody. Now, if that’s all, Mr. Parsons, I have—“
“Wait! Please. Can you tell me why he’s not in jail? If he’s not locked up, my family is in danger.”
“I understand your concern, but the fact is, he had an alibi. I’ll call you if anything changes, which is highly unlikely.”
“But he—“
“I’m out of time and I have no further information I can possibly give you until something changes. Have a good day, Mr. Parsons.”
Dave sat there stunned, holding the now silent phone to his ear. Did the police even care that he, his wife, and his child were in danger from a psychotic man who had already attacked them several times? He thought of Yvonne’s apparent lack of concern about Theodore and detected a pattern here.
“Nobody fucking cares!”
He was convinced they were doing nothing more than going through the motions. These were the people society relied upon and trusted for their protection, and yet if they actually managed to protect someone, it would only be because they were going through the motions of protection. Sometimes they’d help, and sometimes, most possibly, they wouldn’t. Did they care either way? It didn’t seem like it.
Curious about Ron Mackey, he decided to Google him to see if anything came up. One of the results that wasn’t related to what he was looking for but was interesting nonetheless was about a woman who had been beaten by her ex-boyfriend. Her attorney, named Stephen Mackey, filed a restraining order against the man, and because of his serious threats of violence against her, advised her to get a concealed-carry permit. She’d applied and waited for it, but was later killed by the ex-boyfriend while the permit languished in someone’s office weeks after it should’ve been approved or denied.
Great. You have to wait to buy a gun, and then if you’re approved, you need to get approval to actually have it with you. Maybe they should include an 800 number to call when you’re in a situation needing to defend yourself so you can ask for approval to actually fire the gun too.
He clicked Back and looked at the search results again. Included in the list was one for court proceedings for a man named Ronald R. Mackey, arrested for homicide. Scanning down a list of actions such as arraignment, bail posting, and other court procedures, he finally came to disposition. The man had served six years and was released on probation.
This couldn’t be the same Ron. But the city matched. He went back up the list to an affidavit and found the address. It didn’t match his Ron. He went back to the Google search results and found one listing all the Ron Mackeys nationwide. He clicked Florida, then Sarasota, and there was a list of addresses connected to this Ron. One of them matched the address for the man convicted of manslaughter on the original 2nd Degree Homicide charge.
Another of the addresses was the one where Dave had tuned the piano. A chill seized his heart. He slammed the laptop lid down and slid his chair away from the table.
Ron Mackey had already killed someone, done time, and been released. He wasn’t just a violent bully. He was a bona fide murderer. The police undoubtedly knew the bastard’s record and still didn’t seem to give a shit that he was now violently attacking people again.
Dave now understood that he and his family were in greater danger than he had thought. And it was already bad to begin with. He also realized that when it came to protection, he was essentially on his own. The police could only act after the law had been broken, and they didn’t appear to be too concerned about doing anything. During an actual assault, he had no one but himself to rely on, and he had to wait for government approval to even do that if he wanted to do it the most effective way possible.
He reluctantly decided it was time to call his brother. Before he even found his brother’s name in his list of contacts, he heard a car pull into the driveway. He ran to the window and saw that it was Joy, Nikki, and Jake. He’d have to call Danny later. He couldn’t have the conversation he intended to have in front of them. He was determined to keep as few people as possible from knowing about anything he did that was illegal.
***
Later that night, he and Nikki talked in bed as they usually did after sex and before sleep. She laid a bent leg over his legs and rested a hand on his chest and looked at up at him.
“So are we now the proud owners of two firearms?”
“Not yet. We have to get approved again. Another background check, and three days to cool off.”
“What? They said you need to cool off?”
“Not me, specifically. Everyone has to. State law.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Yep.”
Dave adjusted his position so he was lying on his side, facing Nikki.
“Any news from the police?”
“Uh yeah. The bastard psycho has an alibi, so they didn’t arrest him.”
“How could he possibly have an alibi, Davey? He did that to you. He can’t have an alibi!”
“He obviously lied, so that’s the end of that. We’re basically on our own. But don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you or Jake.”
“He just lied? That’s it?
“Yeah. That’s it. The cops don’t care, babe. It took multiple calls just to get that much info out of them, and even then, the cop I spoke to would barely give me the time of day. They honestly don’t give a shit about people.”
Nikki sat up and looked around for her top. She saw it on the other side of Dave.
“Would you hand me that?”
Dave looked where she was pointing and said, “No,” smiling. “I think you should always be topless. Everywhere.”
He laughed, but she didn’t think it was funny – not at the moment. She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I don’t know why the police believed that guy’s alibi, but I know it’s not because they don’t care. If they didn’t care, they wouldn’t be cops.”
“Nikki, I talked to the cop. He was dripping with indifference.” He made a jerking-off motion with one hand. “His lack of concern oozed right through the phone and got all over my hand.”
“Gross, Dave.”
“I’m telling you, babe. He literally couldn’t have cared less. Just like the so-called social worker. She doesn’t give a shit about Theodore the same way the cops don’t care about us.”
“I don’t believe that. They wouldn’t have jobs to help people if they didn’t care about helping people.”
“Then explain to me why they acted exactly like they couldn’t possibly be bothered to give a shit about any of us.” Dave sat up now, ready to debate with his lovely wife.
“How should I know?” she said, spreading her arms with her hands up.
Dave took advantage of the move to fondle one of her breasts.
“Could you stop? We just had sex!”
“I know, but you’re so sexy. I want you again.”
She smiled reluctantly at the compliment, then forc
ed a stern expression.
“Stay focused. My eyes are up here. I’m serious, Dave. I’m trying to talk to you. And if you’re too distracted then give me my shirt.”
“I’ll be good.”
“You better. Now, listen. I don’t know why it seems like they don’t care, but I truly believe that people who are employed in helping professions wouldn’t be if they didn’t want to help people. Think about how many cases they probably have to deal with. Maybe they’re overwhelmed. Ya know?”
“You might have a point. The cop didn’t even remember who I was two days after talking to me in person.”
“See? The only way he could’ve forgotten is if he’s had to deal with so many people in the last two days that he can’t even remember victim’s names from two days ago.”
“Well, if that’s the case, then he’s over-worked and there need to be more police. Same with Yvonne. If she’s too busy to help a little boy who’s been brutalized by his dad, then what’s the point of her even being there?”
“The police were soliciting for donations recently so they could get bullet-proof vests for all of the officers, so they probably don’t have the money to hire more people.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Dave said, getting off the bed and pulling on his sweat pants. “How can we give billions of dollars in foreign aid and not have enough money for adequate staffing of our own police and child services?”
“That’s the feds who give money away. Not the states.” She crawled over and grabbed the shirt she’d been wanting, then looked around for her shorts.
“Then the feds need to give money to the states – to our own country, and not to other people. Jesus. Isn’t that just common sense?”
“To us,” she said, pulling on her shorts. “But we’re not running for office and trying to please everyone in the world.”
“Now who’s the cynic? I’m going to get some water, you want some?”
“I’ll come with you,” she said, laughing as she smacked Dave’s hand away and pulled her top back down. “Stop it. Your sister might still be up.”
Undermind: Nine Stories Page 4