Xoxo, Katie
Once I finished that one, I had my dad repeat the same process.
I collected all my things which were nothing, and patiently waited while the nurse filled out my discharge forms, and listened while the doctor droned on and on about the endless list of do’s and don’ts when it came to taking care of me.
He handed him a printout of all my appointments, and my medications including what time to give them, and what to give them with.
He was nothing if not thorough, I will give him that.
A million hours later…
Okay, maybe one, we had everything ready to go and we loaded into my dad’s car. Well technically, they loaded me since I was now the cripple.
Fun times.
The ride to my house was short, but for some reason there was a lot of traffic on the streets tonight.
“You have no idea what I have been through to find you Katie… and to think that you almost died. It’s unimaginable.” My dad shook his head in fear…anger… I couldn’t discern what. Probably both.
“I know, and I missed you every day. You were the one thing that got me out of there mentally stronger. I kept the image of you alive and well plastered in my brain and it served as a daily reminder.”
“Of what?”
“To never give up. You’re the strongest person I know Dad.” I smiled and put my hand over his.
“It hasn’t felt that way… but thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too dad.” I smiled, seeing that we had pulled into the driveway of my house. My dad made me sit in the car while he ran inside and got everything prepared, including my bed. I was exhausted and couldn’t wait to finally lay in it.
He came out, and slowly opened my door. He pulled the wheelchair out of the trunk and opened it, slowly lowering me into it. He was careful not to damage my foot, and kept it propped.
He slowly helped me up to my room, having to ditch the wheelchair, and carry me in his arms.
I suddenly was overcome with a fond memory from when I was younger of pretending to fall asleep in the car to get carried up to bed.
My mom always knew I was awake though, but she never said anything.
I miss those times.
We entered my room, and I could see that my bed sheets were pulled back so I could slide in with ease. My dad used a hooked slim pole he had lying around to hook a wrap under my foot and over the clips of it, so I didn’t put too much pressure on it. To further ensure so, he added two pillows underneath, so my ankle wasn’t pulling too far down or too far up either.
He flustered around me making sure everything was perfect.
“Do you need anything? Name it.”
Oh boy…
“You’re going to hate me, but I would love a shower.”
“Well lucky for you, I also have a shower chair. I knew it would come in handy someday.”
He headed into the bathroom to set it up and helped me into it. I was still fully clothed, except for my shirt. I had to leave my foot hanging out of the tub anyways since the dressings weren’t able to get wet right now, so that was fine. I would take what I could get.
I smelled like shit.
The shower didn’t take long, given the fact that I could not really wet my legs. I washed my upper body, and somehow managed to wash and condition my hair. I finished this bootleg shower off with a face wash, and it gave me a refreshing feeling. I pulled a towel from the rack, and dried off, putting on a top and new pajama pants. I was brushing my hair when my dad knocked and then walked in.
“Need some help?”
“Yes please. God, I forgot how good a shower feels.”
My dad didn’t reply, and I remembered how hard it must be to think of everything I went through.
He helped me into bed, and covered me with the blankets, planting a kiss on my head.
“I have a water right here in case you get thirsty, and the wheelchair next to your bed if you have to pee. Here’s a bell in case you need me, and I will be right here. Goodnight, I love you.”
“I love you too.” He walked out, shutting off the lights.
The feeling of being in my bed was as close to heaven as I had ever been. Part of me wanted to watch television and celebrate my freedom, but the other half was exhausted.
I chose sleep, and I slipped my hand under my pillow when I felt the hard edge of a box. I sat up, and turned on my bedside lamp, pulling my pillow off the bed.
Sure enough, there was a small jewelry box. I opened it and there was a silver chained necklace with a sparkly “K” on it. Attached to it, was a note. It read,
Katie,
You’ve been in the Iron Room for two days now, and I have come to realize what a big mistake I have made. I should have never taken you, and I promise I will get you out if it is the last thing I do. You are the only thing that matters to me right now, and this necklace is the symbol of that. I’m leaving this here in hopes that you see it when I figure everything out and find a way to help you escape. Whatever happens, just know that I love you.
-Mark
Oh my god.
36
Mark
It didn’t take long before I was out of the hospital and spending my days in a jail cell waiting for the trial. I had a good defense lawyer of course, and I was genuinely surprised that my mother paid for one, given that the last time I saw her… she tried to kill me.
Who knows? Maybe it was my dad who paid for the lawyer. Anyways, everything we did to obtain that money was certainly a group effort, so the money was just as much mine as it was hers.
She was always greedy.
My lawyer thought it best if I did an insanity defense and convinced the jury that I was mentally unfit to stand trial due to reason of insanity.
I knew in my heart that I wasn’t insane by any shape or form, but I would do whatever it took to make sure I got out and made my way back to Katie.
A part of me began to wonder about the realness of everything we shared. She was in such a dark situation, and a small part of me worries that all the emotions were a facade to get me to help her escape.
I knew Katie’s character pretty well, or at least I thought I did, and it didn’t seem like her to do something like that. She wasn’t the type of girl to mess with anyone’s emotions simply for her own personal gain.
She was a good person, inside and out.
The trial started today, and I couldn’t have been more relieved. I thought that I had a good defense, and a lot of our case was also riding on the fact that while I may have been the catalyst in kidnapping the girls, I never laid a hand on them otherwise.
If the insanity defense failed, we would need to convince the jury that I was forced to do this and kidnap the girls in order to help my family make money.
Which was pretty much true.
In fact, I was waiting in my cell to have the lawyer meet me with a suit he picked up from my home.
I had been told that the police finally opened our house back up after it had been closed off for a thorough examination. Apparently, everything had been taken into evidence, including the iPad, which I felt quite nicely helped my defense.
The correspondence between Johnny and I clearly showed how desperate I was to get the girls, well Katie, out. There was also the evidence of chains they found in the room, with the bucket I described when I gave them my statement.
Sheriff Johnson wasn’t very happy with me, but he didn’t seem to hate me either. I thought he would, give that I had taken Katie in the first place. But Sheriff Johnson seems to see the side of me that I have been striving for. I want to be someone who Katie is proud of, and not what my family has morphed me to be all my life.
I wanted to be better for her. She made me better.
More than anything, I wanted to be done with this trial so I could put all the mistakes of the past, in the past. I don’t think I wanted to be associated with my family anymore, and I know it comes off as being incredibly cold.
It�
�s hard to have love for someone who saw you as disposable and tried to end your life. I don’t want my mother in my future, especially if I want one with Katie. She abused her, and that would not be someone I associated with further beyond this, regardless of familial connection or not.
The sad truth is I never wanted any of my family hurt. I had grown to loathe Amy, mostly because making the mistake of taking Katie forced me to finally take a good, long look in the mirror and realize all the wrong doings I had done out of anger, and for the good of my family.
I grew as a person through the whole experience, while my family didn’t. If anything, they got worse and it only brought the truth to my eyes.
They were monsters.
But I would have never wished any of them dead. So now that I have had time to process everything that happened, I allow myself to mourn for the sister I lost.
When I think of Amy, I don’t attach all the horrible things she did to her memory. Instead, I choose to honor the seven-year-old girl who wouldn’t stop taking my Legos and blaming it on her teddy bear. I honor the innocent, warm hearted, and bold spirited sister I grew up with- the one that wasn’t tarnished by my parents and their selfishness.
“Mark, please step forward.” The officer commanded me sternly.
Time for the trial.
My lawyer came into sight holding a suit as promised, and he looked upbeat.
That was a good sign.
I stepped out of my cell and the officer had me hold my hands in front of myself while he unlocked them.
My lawyer and I were given time in an office so I could change, and we could discuss strategy before heading to the courthouse.
In Prairie, we had a small courthouse that was only ever used for small traffic violations. Like I said, nothing bad ever happened here. This was a big deal, and there would be a huge amount of people turning up for the trials, with a lot of opinions.
I had no doubt over the level of hate that the townspeople of Prairie now held towards me and my family. It didn’t bug me, or even upset me in the slightest. I knew what I did was wrong. While I felt that I had learned a valuable lesson, it is truly up the jury and the judge. If they think I also deserve prison time, then so be it.
Katie made me want to take accountability for once.
I subconsciously wondered if she would show today for the trial. I’m sure it was all over the local news. My lawyer had given me the rundown of the day. My mother would go first, followed by my father, George, and then myself. Depending on how everyone plead, the length of each trial was really up in the air right now.
Little did my lawyer know, I had a different plan in mind.
I finished getting dressed, and my lawyer felt it best if we discussed the plan at the courthouse as we were running late. The drive from the station to the courthouse was brief, and quiet.
When we finally arrived, I could barely see the doors to the entrance because there were mobs of people, and I wasn’t exaggerating.
They were buzzing like mosquitoes, eager to get their fix.
I knew I was in for a rude awakening, so we pulled around the back instead, where an officer who was friends with my lawyer was waiting to let us inside.
Thank god for that.
We got inside, and I was surprised at the crowds of people inside as well. They were all starting to file into the courtroom, and it was for my trial. Mine started in fifteen minutes, and my lawyer and I needed to brush up on our statements and go over his line of questioning once more.
That means that my mother, father, and George already went.
As we were walking into an empty office to talk, I surveyed the crowd. I could have lied and said I was looking to see what kind of turnout it was, but there was truthfully only one person I was looking to see.
Katie.
When we got inside the office, my lawyer closed the door behind us swiftly and motioned for me to take a seat.
I did so quickly and waited for him to start.
“So, Mark, why did you take the girls?”
“My parents were broke, and we needed a source of income. They instructed me to start taking girls which we would later use as a broker for ransom money.”
Lie.
“And at any point, did this plan change?”
“Yes sir. My parents realized they could make more money selling and taking requests for torture videos on the dark web.”
“Did they ever have you abuse any of the girls?”
“No sir.” I tried to keep my calm, and not seem like I was out of sorts in the slightest.
“In fact, you tried to free one of the girls.”
“Yes sir. I tried to free Katie, but my parents hit us both with tranquilizer darts. They then chained me in my room, with no way of getting free or having access to the girls. I messaged Johnny Antin in hopes that he could help with me an escape plan for all of them. That’s what he did.”
“Did you tell Johnny Antin to shoot your sister Amy?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Do you wish that he hadn’t shot her?” My lawyer looked at me carefully, very obviously looking for a reaction to that one.
“Of course. But she had Katie at gunpoint. It was a do or die situation.”
“And how do you know Katie was at gunpoint?”
“Well, I had the camera wired up to my iPad. I could see everything that went on in there but was unable to do anything about it.”
This line of questioning is pointless. No one cares how much less guilty I am than the others.
“That should be good for now Mark. Their prosecutor will then cross examine you. I need to reiterate to you the importance of keeping your cool and maintaining a calm headspace. They are looking to poster you as a volatile young man. You will show them that you are not but were merely a byproduct of your parent’s wrongdoings.”
“Got it.”
Satisfied with my agreeability, we headed out of the room and down the hall to where I would await what my future would hold for me. Regardless of the “impartial” jury and judge, I knew who the true judges were. The entire town of Prairie would be my judge, jury, and if need be… executioner.
I stepped into that room and felt the glare of a hundred eyes staring directly at me.
I knew what they were thinking.
Kidnapper. Sadist. Sicko.
I was all of those things, but I didn’t want to be. I would use whatever outcome this trial had in store for me to undo all those horrible words associated with the name Mark Puntzer. I wanted to be a better man.
Think of Katie.
I recognized more than a few faces from around school. In the first row, there was a girl who I sat with in science class last year. I spotted a kid named Gabriel who I played soccer with after school a few years ago.
It would have felt a lot better recognizing all these faces if I knew they were here to support me, rather than come to watch my head on a stick.
My lawyer and I made our way to the table and waited for the judge to enter. I took this moment as an opportunity to look at my jury. The jury was comprised of people of all races and genders, varying in age. I knew that didn’t matter. Regardless of skin color, gender or age group, people knew what I did was wrong.
It was up to them to decide if I should be punished for my crimes.
The judge finally filed in, taking a seat his designated podium. He looked angry already, and it hadn’t started yet. I wondered if he had been presiding over my parent’s trials as well, or it was just mine.
You know what you have to do.
“Please stand.” We all followed suit.
“How does the defendant plead?” The judge looked from me, to the lawyer, and then back to me.
“Not….” I cut my lawyer off.
“Guilty, your honor.” There was a round of loud gasps erupting from the courtroom, as well as a sour look from my lawyer.
“Mark, what the hell are you doing?” My lawyer whispered to me angrily, and very clearly confuse
d.
“Okay. We will have a small recess, and then a sentence will be handed down.” The judge banged the gavel, and my lawyer yanked me by my arm clear out of the courtroom all within seconds.
He pulled me away into a hidden corner, and his face was lit with fury.
“What do you think you’re doing? You kidnapped four girls. You WILL go to prison.”
“I deserve to.” He rolled his eyes and pushed me away from him.
“Whatever, it’s your cross to bear.” He waited patiently with me for the remaining ten minutes in the recess. I knew he was upset with me, especially since he felt that he had a strong enough case to get me no jail time at all.
What kind of man would I be if I ran from this?
We headed back inside for sentencing.
I made my way to my seat, with my very solemn looking lawyer trailing behind me.
We sat, and the judge entered.
“Please rise for sentencing.” So, I did.
“In the four cases of kidnapping in the second degree, you have pled guilty. I have reviewed the evidence submitted by the defense as well as the prosecution and have reached a decision.”
The judged paused, then continued.
“Mark Puntzer, you are hereby sentenced to 2 years at Highmore Psychiatric Facility. I hope you get the help you need son.”
37
Katie
Two years in a psychiatric facility? What was the judge thinking? Mark wasn’t crazy. He was just raised by crazy people… there’s a clear difference there.
When my dad told me the sentence today, I was shocked. I was sure for a second that Mark would receive jailtime, but my dad had told me about the amazing lawyer Mark had hired, and I held out a small sliver of hope that he might avoid jail altogether.
But never once did I consider the possibility of a psychiatric facility. Mark would be forced to spend his days surrounded by people with voices in their heads and a pill regimen.
My dad wouldn’t allow me to go to the trial, even if I was feeling better. I had been healing better over the past few days, and now found walking with crutches a better fit for me.
It was definitely exercising all my upper body strength, that was for sure. At least my healing came with a sense of freedom in not needing help to get in the shower.
The Iron Room Page 20