“What happened next?” inquired Mr. Goldwater.
“I saw the drapes moving a tad – I ‘spose it must have been Mr. Waddington peeking out the window. Within a minute, he opened the front door and came out onto the porch with his hands raised behind his head. He was so thoroughly soaked in blood, that at first I assumed he was the one who was hurt, but we soon discovered that all the blood belonged to the victim, Mr. Barney Wallace. After two of my deputies handcuffed Mr. Waddington, I headed inside the residence to look for Mr. Wallace. I was curious to find out who was the source of that extraordinary amount of blood.”
“Sheriff Banner, could you please tell the court what you saw when you located Mr. Wallace.”
“I dang near puked my guts out when I found Mr. Wallace’s lifeless body in a bedroom. His eyeballs had been scooped right out of his head. Apparently, scissors had been used to meticulously snip away the flesh surrounding his eyes, before Mr. Waddington carefully plucked his eyeballs out and placed them on the dresser – probably for Mr. Waddington to add to his collection of severed hands.”
“Objection,” said Sal. “That is subjective.”
“Objection overruled,” snapped the judge at the public defender. “I’m dying to hear Sheriff Banner’s full testimony. Now stifle yourself, Mr. Bowser – please continue, Sheriff Banner.”
“Well, the bit about the plucked out eyeballs was just a small part of the horrifically, gory scene I had just witnessed. First off, Barney’s hands and feet were restrained by ropes which were tied around his wrists and ankles. The ropes were securely tied to the corner bedposts. As excruciatingly painful as it must have been for poor Mr. Wallace, the eyeball extraction wasn’t the cause of his death.”
“To what do you attribute as being the cause for Mr. Wallace’s death?” asked the prosecutor, as he now felt in command of the entire courtroom.
“Mr. Waddington had used a chainsaw to carve out a deep, crucifix incision into Mr. Wallace’s chest. To me, it looked like some sort of human sacrifice, like the work of the devil.”
No one in the courtroom noticed Dr. Porter smiling while she contemplated, “This Texas Chainsaw Masochist guy is the man of my dreams. With Todd at my side, I will rule the asylum with an iron fist.”
“I’m sorry, your honor, but I’d like to object,” said a nervous-looking Sal. “The description about the work of the devil is again subjective.”
“The court needs to hear the sheriff’s full testimony,” shouted an upset Judge Jenkins. “Now sit down, and pipe down if you expect me to let you cross-examine the witness.”
“I’m sorry, your honor. I won’t do it again,” said an embarrassed Sal.
“OK, assuming we get no further interruption from the defense, Sheriff Banner, you may continue with your fascinating testimony,” said a rather disgusted judge.
“I ordered my deputies to take Mr. Waddington to the station and book him. We contacted an ambulance to come get Mr. Wallace’s butchered body. I also called in our detectives to come quickly and search the premises. Besides the absolutely nightmarish, bloody scene we found in the said bedroom, we found a tote-bag full of severed hands in a closet. In total, there were 24 hands crammed into the tote in varying stages of decay. Further inspection showed that no two hands belonged to the same person.”
“Sheriff Banner, have you been able to identify any of the victims of the severed hands by name?” asked the prosecutor.
“Negatory.”
“So, you say that none of the severed hands have been identified, yet Mr. Waddington is accused of killing two other victims by name – a Mongol Nation member named, Peter Lufkin, and his boss at the local mortuary, Kyle Puckett. How did you come to discover those two casualties?”
The sheriff took a sip of water before he continued…
“I thought it would be a good idea to check out his place of employment. I asked our team of detectives to look for any additional, pertinent information concerning Mr. Waddington’s vile antics. When we arrived to the morgue where Mr. Waddington was gainfully employed cremating cadavers, we were shocked when we entered the building. The place stank like rotting meat as soon as we opened the door. A vast number of flies had already nested into the carcasses of two more of his victims, who had been butchered there only a few days earlier.”
“Has your team been able to identify those two bodies?”
“Yes, sir – the bodies were positively identified as Peter Lufkin, who I ‘spose belonged to a biker gang known as the Mongols, and his boss, Kyle Puckett.”
“Can you please tell the court if you were able to determine the cause of death?”
“Affirmative – there was a switchblade found at the scene of the crime. It had been used to kill both of the victims.”
“Sheriff Banner, were any fingerprints discovered on the murder weapon?” asked an almost gleeful Benjamin Goldwater.
“Yes, sir – we got a clean set of prints on the handle of the switchblade. The fingerprints belong to the accused, Mr. Todd Waddington.”
“I have no further questions,” said a near giddy prosecuting attorney.
“OK, wake up – Mr. Bowser. Do you wish to cross-examine the witness?”
“Yes, I do – your honor,” said Sal respectfully as he fumbled around a stack of notes.
“Well, hurry up – we haven’t got all day,” grumbled the judge.
“Good afternoon, Sheriff Banner,” said Sal politely. “Let’s first begin with the two people you found dead at the morgue. First, I’d like to discuss the Mongol biker, named Peter Lufkin. Photos of him have been positively identified by a local proprietor named, Hank Schillings. He owns a gas station located on the outskirts of my client’s hometown. Mr. Schillings claims that he was robbed and assaulted by the Mongol gang member within 24 hours prior to his death.”
“Objection,” said the prosecuting attorney. “This is immaterial.”
“Objection sustained,” replied the judge, “Mr. Bowser, the court really needs you to cut to the chase. We don’t want you wasting time with any unnecessary questions. Move onto a different line of questioning, or I’ll hold you in contempt.”
“Yes, your honor,” said a very timid public defender.
“Sheriff Banner, can you please tell the court exactly how Mr. Waddington’s boss, Kyle Puckett, was killed?”
“Yes, Mr. Waddington stabbed his boss right in the gut, and he slowly bled out – it must have been an agonizing death.”
“Can you also tell the court how the Mongol biker was killed?” asked Sal.
“Mr. Lufkin was slowly tortured to death. All the flesh had been slowly carved off his face. We found hundreds of small pieces of decaying flesh lying next to his head. He obviously suffered an incredible amount of pain.”
Again, Dr. Porter smiled while her wheels were privately turning, “This Todd Waddington is absolutely precious.”
“My question to you, Sheriff Banner, is if my client, Todd Waddington, has an affinity for administering human torture, why would he not choose to torture Kyle Puckett as well?”
“I really don’t know. Maybe he was rushed or distracted in some odd way. How the hell should I know? The only thing I’m certain of is Todd Waddington’s fingerprints have been found on the handle of the murder weapon. In my book, that makes him guilty as charged.”
“OK, is the defense finished with its line of useless questioning?” asked the judge.
“Almost,” said Sal. “Next, Sheriff Banner, I wish to discuss the tote containing 24 severed hands you found in my client’s possession. Can you to tell the court exactly how many of these hands have been positively identified by either fingerprints or DNA testing?”
“Most of the hands were too rotten to get any fingerprints from, and we haven’t had the time, nor the financial resources to run expensive DNA tests on them.”
“Well, Sheriff Banner, it so happens that my client has worked at a morgue during the past year and a half. Is it not possible that he may simply ha
ve harbored a secret ‘hand fetish’, and his entire collection of severed hands came from corpses that were designated for the crematory?”
“Well, to me it makes more sense that Mr. Waddington would have collected severed hands from the people he personally tortured to death. Those severed hands would be like his personal ‘trophies’, similar to big game hunters who like to have their kills stuffed and mounted by a taxidermist.”
“Sheriff Banner – I did not ask you to hypothesize about my client’s severed hands. I repeat my question – is it possible that all 24 severed hands in his private collection could have come from corpses delivered to his funeral parlor instead of belonging to alleged victims of torture?”
“Well, I reckon it’s possible, but…”
“I have no further questions for this witness, your honor,” interrupted Sal with renewed confidence.
“OK, Sheriff Banner, you may step down,” said Judge Jenkins. “Would the prosecution like to place anyone else on the witness stand?”
“Yes, your honor,” replied the prosecuting attorney who was grumbling under his own breath over the sudden turn of events. “Next, I would like to call the accused, Mr. Todd Waddington, to the witness stand.”
The audience let out a new round of gasps as Todd stood up to take the witness stand. An unknown cameraman couldn’t resist taking a photo of the Texas Chainsaw Masochist for a nationwide tabloid. An outraged judge called for security to arrest that man, but he hurriedly ran out the door and sprinted to the fire escape stairwell.
When the commotion caused by the photographer settled down, the bailiff approached the witness stand and said, “Mr. Todd Waddington, raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell the court the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I d-do,” said a stammering Todd.
“You may be seated,” said the bailiff.
The prosecuting attorney was confident in getting Todd to fall into one of his clever traps. He began by saying, “My – you sure have a lot of scars on your face. Do you get in a lot fights with other people?”
“N-n-no,” mumbled Todd.
“Would you please speak clearly, so that the court may hear you? Or, are you stuttering because you are nervous to be answering under oath?”
“Objection,” said Sal.
“What the hell is it now, Mr. Bowser?” asked an angry judge.
“May council approach the bench?” asked Sal.
“OK, but this better be good,” said the judge.
Both Sal and Benjamin approached the bench to speak softly to the judge. Sal said, “My client has a natural speech impediment he has had since childhood. He always stutters – he can’t help that.”
“That’s OK,” said the prosecuting attorney. “I was unaware of that – I won’t pursue that line of questioning any further.”
“Fine, Mr. Bowser, you may return to your seat,” said the judge before saying out loud to the court, “Surprisingly enough, it’s ‘objection sustained’. Mr. Goldwater, you must refrain from questioning the defendant about his stuttering. Please continue.”
“Certainly, your honor,” replied Benjamin before turning his attention back to Todd…
“I’ll repeat my previous question – Mr. Waddington, do you frequently get in fights with other people?”
“N-no.”
“Well, then how did you get all those scars on your face?” asked Benjamin as he moved closer to Todd to focus on his face.
“I d-did it to m-myself,” said Todd.
“Why on earth would you disfigure yourself?”
“I d-dunno,” said Todd as he remembered to follow Dr. Porter’s advice.
“Mr. Waddington, at the time of your arrest, Sheriff Banner caught you red-handed killing Barney Wallace. Why did you kill him?”
“I d-dunno,” said Todd again.
“Did you kill Mr. Wallace because he came to evict you from your house?”
“I d-don’t r-remember.”
“Well, Mr. Waddington – do you even remember plucking out Mr. Wallace’s eyeballs, and then cutting a crucifix deep into his chest with a chainsaw?”
“I d-don’t r-remember.”
“That’s odd – Let’s test your memory about something else. The Mongol biker died by having the flesh slowly sliced away from his face. There were more than one hundred small pieces of carved flesh lying on the floor next to his head. The coroner determined that the biker was still alive at the time, and that he slowly bled to death. Do you remember doing that to him?”
“N-no – I d-don’t remember,” said Todd, who was feeling tension building up from deep within.
“Do you remember Kyle Puckett, who was your boss at the funeral parlor?”
“Y-yeah. He was my f-friend.”
“Oh, so you do remember something,” commented the prosecutor before going in for the kill... “Do you remember stabbing Kyle Puckett in the abdomen with a switchblade?”
“N-no – I d-didn’t do it.”
“Well, the coroner’s report claims that both Peter Lufkin and Kyle Puckett died at approximately the same time, and they both were killed by the same murder weapon. So, if you didn’t stab Kyle Puckett, then who did?”
“The b-biker d-did it,” answered a frustrated Todd.
“So, Mr. Waddington – your memory seems to be working after all. I remind you that you are under oath. If the biker killed Mr. Puckett, what were you doing at the time? Did you just stand back and watch your friend being killed?”
“No – I d-dunno.”
“Mr. Waddington – you are contradicting yourself. The coroner determined with 100% certainty that both Kyle Puckett and Peter Lufkin were killed by the same murder weapon – a switchblade which was found at the scene of the murder, with a clear set of your fingerprints on the knife’s handle. So, Mr. Waddington, I ask you again, did you kill Kyle Puckett?”
“N-no – he was my f-friend,” said an increasingly emotional-looking Todd.
The prosecuting attorney leaned forward, so that his face was only about a foot away from Todd’s face as he said in dramatic fashion, “You, Mr. Waddington, are a liar! You are a serial killer who falsely claims that you are insane, just to avoid receiving the death penalty. You lie under oath that you have no memory of your killings, but I know that you killed Kyle Puckett. You are a liar and a murderer!!”
Todd couldn’t take any more of Benjamin’s verbal assault. Although Todd was still wearing a pair of handcuffs, he was nevertheless able to reach out quickly enough to grab Mr. Goldwater by his suit. He pulled him closer forward, and sank his chipped teeth into the prosecuting attorney’s nose. Benjamin screamed out loud in agony as Todd completely bit off the tip of his nose, and spit it out onto the floor.
“Order in the court! Order in the court!” yelled Judge Jenkins as pounded his gavel repeatedly.
The security guards pulled a badly bleeding Benjamin away from Todd’s powerful grasp. A shocked Judge Jenkins called out, “Hurry – someone, get Mr. Goldwater an ambulance. Guards, escort this lunatic back to his cell. This court is adjourned until tomorrow morning.”
During all the commotion, Dr. Porter quietly sat back and admired Todd’s animalistic behavior… “I’ll make plenty sure to convince the judge to release the Texas Chainsaw Masochist into my custody. Todd Waddington will become a valuable addition to my asylum.”
CHAPTER 10
After spending most of the evening at the hospital getting the tip of his nose reattached, Benjamin Goldwater made it to the courtroom on time the next morning. His face was heavily bandaged. A swarm of reporters and cameramen flocked around him to ask him about yesterday’s assault by the defendant. Benjamin issued a public statement…
“The surgeon isn’t sure whether or not my reattached nose tip will survive. If it doesn’t, I’ll need major reconstructive surgery. Even if the surgery is successful, I will need plastic surgery to minimize the amount of scarring to my face.”
When asked by a
reporter about how he will react to Todd Waddington on the witness stand today, he merely said, “No comment.”
It was 10:00 AM when the day’s court session was scheduled to begin. Once again, the bailiff called out, “Ladies and gentlemen – This court is now in session. All rise for the honorable Judge Harold Jenkins, presiding. Announcing the continuation of the case of Todd Waddington, the defendant, versus the people of the State of Texas.”
Judge Jenkins walked out in his traditional, black robe. He addressed the prosecuting attorney, “It’s good to see you were able to make it to court today, Mr. Goldwater. Are you able to continue with the trial given your condition?”
“Yes, your honor – I’m dedicated to my career.”
“Well, let’s proceed by having the defendant take the witness stand,” said the judge.
Todd was again handcuffed and shackled in ankle chains as the bailiff led him to the witness stand.
“Mr. Waddington, you need to be aware that you are still under oath,” said Judge Jenkins. “Do you understand?”
“Y-yeah,” answered Todd.
“By the way, I want no further outbursts in my court – including no biting – or I’ll have the guards put a muzzle over your mouth in addition to wearing handcuffs and leg chains. Do you agree to behave yourself?”
“Y-yeah, I d-do.”
“Fine, Mr. Goldwater – you were still questioning Mr. Waddington at the time he bit your nose off. Do you have any further questions for the defendant?”
“Actually, I had just completed my line of questioning which proved that the defendant was lying under oath, and that he stabbed his boss, Mr. Kyle Puckett. I have no further questions for him.”
“OK, then, excuse me – public defender – was your name Sam Bowser?”
“My name is Sal Bower, your honor.”
“Let me make a note of that. I need to have your correct name for the court records. So, Mr. Bower, would you like to cross-examine the defendant?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Well, let’s not waste any more time – have at it,” said a cranky judge.
Texas Chainsaw Masochist Page 6