Sam sat up and felt the cop’s hand slide off his shoulder. Then Eva was there, falling into his arms, tumbling them both backward.
“I love you, Daddy,” Eva said. She was crying but smiling at him. Water ran down her face and dripped off the tip of her nose.
Sam hugged her close and said, “I love you too, Eva. My baby girl.”
Then Molly was there, on her knees next to them. She cupped his face in her hands and smiled at him.
“I love you, you crazy man.” She punched his chest and said it again.
The darkness within him was gone now, driven out by the light that shone through his wife’s smile and his daughter’s eyes.
The light of love.
Seventy-One
TRIAL EXCERPTS
The following excerpts were taken from the transcript of the federal court case trying Mr. Samuel Michael Travis for the attempted assassination of Senator Stephen William Lincoln.
The examiner is prosecuting attorney Mr. Richard Albright. The witness is government-appointed psychiatrist Dr. Millard O’Connor.
ALBRIGHT: In your estimation and professional opinion, Dr. O’Connor, at the time of the alleged assassination attempt did Mr. Travis possess the mental capacity to determine whether his actions were morally wrong or not and whether they violated the law?
O’CONNOR: In my estimation and opinion, I believe not, sir.
ALBRIGHT: You believe not?
O’CONNOR: That is correct, sir.
ALBRIGHT: Are you not certain?
O’CONNOR: Absolute certainty is hard to come by in this field. But I believe with some guarded certainty that Mr. Travis suffered from a form of brief reactive psychosis or temporary schizophrenia.
ALBRIGHT: Could you elaborate on those diagnoses, Dr. O’Connor?
O’CONNOR: Certainly. Both involve temporary bouts of psychosis during which the individual suffers from delusions, paranoia, hallucinations, mood changes, and a variety of other irrational behaviors.
ALBRIGHT: What causes the onset of such mental disturbance?
O’CONNOR: Usually stress, a specific psychosocial causative stressor. The patient, under an enormous amount of stress, copes by retreating into a state of psychosis.
ALBRIGHT: And how long does this state of psychosis usually last?
O’CONNOR: It can vary from a few days to weeks, but almost always less than a month. In rare cases it can become a chronic condition.
ALBRIGHT: Can become a chronic condition?
O’CONNOR: If there are preexisting personality disorders.
ALBRIGHT: And to your knowledge, did Mr. Travis have any preexisting personality disorders?
O’CONNOR: To my knowledge, no, sir, he did not.
ALBRIGHT: What was the specific psychosocial stressor that may have triggered this temporary psychosis?
O’CONNOR: Mr. Travis endured a fall on the job and suffered a closed head injury. The injury left him unable to return to his line of work. He’s a self-employed carpenter.
ALBRIGHT: How long ago did this fall occur?
O’CONNOR: Thirteen months ago.
ALBRIGHT: Dr. O’Connor, what led you to believe Mr. Travis suffered from this temporary psychosis?
O’CONNOR: His own testimony, sir. Mr. Travis believes he was visited, influenced, if you will, by a captain from the Civil War.
ALBRIGHT: Visited?
O’CONNOR: Yes, through journal entries. He believes this Captain Samuel Whiting was contacting him through these writings and influencing him, guiding him, to assassinate Senator Lincoln.
ALBRIGHT: And how did this soldier contact him through these writings?
O’CONNOR: Mr. Travis believes that while he was sleeping or daydreaming, he wrote the journal entries.
ALBRIGHT: He wrote them, as in Mr. Travis wrote them?
O’CONNOR: Correct. Albright: And he believes this Samuel Whiting was using him as a medium of some kind, possessing him?
O’CONNOR: Mr. Travis didn’t use those terms, but, yes, that is the sense of it.
ALBRIGHT: And is it true that he believes this to be the same Samuel Whiting, in fact Jefferson Samuel Whiting, who himself was found guilty of plotting to assassinate President Lincoln in 1863?
O’CONNOR: A little-known fact, but yes, sir, the same Jefferson Samuel Whiting.
ALBRIGHT: The prosecution has submitted as Exhibit A the journal entries, handwritten by Mr. Samuel Travis. What else did Mr. Travis say, Dr. O’Connor?
O’CONNOR: He believes he was visited by his deceased brother, Thomas. Albright: And did Mr. Travis elaborate on the circumstances surrounding Thomas Travis’s death?
O’CONNOR: He did. Albright: Can you share what he said with the court?
O’CONNOR: Mr. Travis said his seventeen-year-old brother had gone insane and attacked their parents. After beating their father to near-death, Thomas then began assaulting their mother. Mr. Travis, fifteen at the time, fled with his rifle and from outside the home shot his brother in the head while he was beating their mother.
ALBRIGHT: The prosecution would like to enter as Exhibit B the police records dated April 12 to April 21, 1987.
ALBRIGHT: Dr. O’Connor, to the best of your knowledge, did Mr. Travis have a bout of temporary psychosis when he shot and killed his brother?
O’CONNOR: That’s really impossible to know—
ALBRIGHT: To the best of your knowledge.
O’CONNOR: To the best of my knowledge, no, he did not.
ALBRIGHT: So Mr. Travis has a history of completely sane violence with a rifle.
O’CONNOR: I don’t know that I’d—
ALBRIGHT: Thank you, Dr. O’Connor. No further questions.
The examiner is defense attorney Mr. Allen Sutter. The witness is Officer Glenn Richardson, Gettysburg Police Department, PA.
SUTTER: Officer Richardson, you were the first one on the scene at the house at 120 Fairfield Road, correct?
RICHARDSON: That’s right.
SUTTER: Can you elaborate on how you found Mr. Travis?
RICHARDSON: When we received word that there’d been a credible tip about an assassination attempt, we blew the phones up, put out an APB on the vehicle description Mrs. Travis had given, an ‘02 white F150 with lettering on the doors: Samuel M. Travis, general carpentry. We all figured he’d be driving something different, though, something stolen. So I called the surrounding counties and checked for any reports on stolen vehicles. There was one, an ‘08 maroon Ford Escort, that caught my attention because it was stolen from the campus of Shippensburg University, not three miles from where some hunters came across Travis’s truck ditched on state lands. I was now looking for an ‘08 maroon Escort…a million of them on the roads. I drove down Fairfield Road, en route to set up a perimeter barricade, and noticed down the lane to the old Beaufort place a maroon Escort. I ran the plates, and bingo, it was our car. Dumb luck, really.
SUTTER: And what did you find at the residence?
RICHARDSON: I found Travis in the backyard with his rifle pointed at Drake.
SUTTER: For the record, Officer Richardson is speaking of Albert Drake. Officer Richardson, was Mr. Travis’s daughter, Eva, with Mr. Drake?
RICHARDSON: Yes, sir. He held her in front of him with one arm and held a handgun to her head with the other.
SUTTER: And how far away were Mr. Drake and the girl?
RICHARDSON: A good four, five hundred yards, I’d say. Pretty good ways off. Just beyond them was a tree line.
SUTTER: What did you do when you got there? Richardson: First, I got on the horn and told the feds I’d found them, Mr. Travis and his daughter. Then I told Travis to drop the rifle.
SUTTER: Did he comply?
RICHARDSON: No, he did not.
SUTTER: Officer Richardson, did it appear to you that the girl, Eva Travis, was in imminent danger from Mr. Drake?
RICHARDSON: He had a gun to her head.
SUTTER: But did it appear to you to be an urgent situation?
RICHARDSON: He had a gun to her head. That’s pretty urgent.
SUTTER: Go on, Officer Richardson; what happened next?
RICHARDSON: The feds and staties were there within minutes, like they’d climbed out of the ground. Sharpshooters were set up to get a bead on Drake, but with the way he was positioned behind the girl, a safe shot was impossible. They didn’t want to use the chopper either because of the girl. If Drake got spooked, there was no telling what he might do.
SUTTER: And what was Mr. Travis doing during this time?
RICHARDSON: Nothing. I mean, the same thing. He was on one knee aiming his rifle at Drake and the girl. We didn’t want to spook him either. It was touch and go.
SUTTER: Officer Richardson, was this a protocol kind of situation?
RICHARDSON: Absolutely not. Whenever a child is involved, extra caution is taken. Plus, we all thought we knew the motive behind Travis’s actions, with his daughter being held hostage by Drake. We wanted to take him alive.
SUTTER: Would you say Mr. Travis was acting much like any father would to protect his daughter, that he was only doing what he thought necessary to prevent harm or even death from coming to her?
RICHARDSON: I would say that, yes.
SUTTER: When did Mr. Travis take his shot?
RICHARDSON: It was soon after the feds arrived. Quite a shot too. Right through the hand holding the weapon.
SUTTER: How difficult a shot was that?
RICHARDSON: Under those conditions, for a military-trained sniper it would have been a tough shot, not impossible, but tough. Hitting a four-inch by four-inch target at five hundred yards, in the pouring rain, with a hunting rifle? For a civilian, I’d say an impossible shot.
SUTTER: So in your estimation and professional opinion, Mr. Travis is a pretty good shot.
RICHARDSON: Good or lucky.
SUTTER: Lucky? But he didn’t seem like he was willing to gamble his daughter’s life on luck, did he?
RICHARDSON: No, he didn’t.
SUTTER: So it was a good shot, a remarkable shot even, not luck. Would you agree?
RICHARDSON: Yes.
SUTTER: For a marksman like Mr. Travis, would hitting a human target at, say, four hundred yards be difficult?
RICHARDSON: No. Most sharpshooters would say that was a chip shot.
SUTTER: So if a sharpshooter missed at that distance, there would be probable cause to believe he missed intentionally.
RICHARDSON: I would certainly think so, unless he had a malfunction with his weapon or something caused him to lose his focus.
SUTTER: But it’s probable.
RICHARDSON: Yes, definitely probable.
SUTTER: Thank you, Officer Richardson.
Seventy-Two
LETTERS FROM PRISON
Baby girl,
I feel like I didn’t really get a chance to explain things to you, partly because of circumstances, partly because I’ve been afraid to, not that I doubted your ability to understand, but rather my ability to offer an accurate explanation. Listen to me, making excuses already. I was scared, plain and simple. Scared of myself, scared of what I went through, scared of where I was, scared of the truth.
It started that night the window broke. I can’t explain it, but something happened to me then. A darkness surrounded me and closed in. Day after day it grew darker and more oppressive. Scared me to death. Man, it scared me. The darkness, it overcame me, controlled my thoughts, my feelings, my attitudes, everything. It was like I was somebody wholly different. And you noticed it, didn’t you?
I treated you terribly, and for that I don’t know if I will ever forgive myself. Looking back on it now, it was like a nightmare. I remember bits and pieces, like those ice floats you see in the Arctic Ocean, moving here, moving there, but there’s so much more under the surface. I don’t know if you can understand it now, but I pray someday you will—that was not me, not your daddy. It was something dark. I was lost in it.
But you found me. No matter how dark it got, there was always a ray of light, and it was your love.
Thank you, Eva. My baby girl. I may not be able to hold you in my arms right this moment, but I’m holding you in my heart. You’re my hero; you know that? You gave me the gift of love, your love, God’s love. That’ll satisfy me for a thousand Christmases.
Can’t wait to see you again.
Your dad
Baby girl,
I’ve been thinking about something, wanting to tell you, but I don’t half believe it myself. I haven’t told anyone, not even your mother. It’s time, though. It’s time to tell at least you, and then if you want to tell Mommy, you can. I suppose I’ll get around to telling her myself sooner or later.
I saw him. You know who I’m talking about. The first time was there in the crowd when the senator was talking. He looked right at me. It was then I knew you were telling the truth all those times you said you saw him and talked to him. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. So sorry.
Then I saw him again when I was coming after you. He showed me where you were. He looked just like you described him too. Like someone dipped him in glue and rolled him in glitter.
I don’t know who or what he was, but I do know that if he hadn’t shown me the way, I wouldn’t have found you when I did. Have you seen him since that time? I’ve looked for him, can’t stop myself from looking. In the crowds here, in the yard, in the mess hall, but I don’t see him. I’m starting to doubt I’ll ever see him again.
See you soon.
All my love,
Dad
Molly,
I know we didn’t get a lot of time to talk following the mess I made of things, and there’s so much I want to say to you. So much happened. It’s hard for me to think about it all at one time. I find myself remembering snippets here and there, trying to fit them together like lost pieces to a puzzle. One by one I put them in place. After a while, the full picture will start to emerge, I’m sure, but for now it’s just fragments I’m going off of.
When we’re together again and I have the full story in my head, I’ll tell you everything. You deserve to know. One thing I remember crystal clear, though, is your voice breaking through the static that day behind the old house. You told me to trust. When I find a quiet place here (which is nearly impossible) and close my eyes and listen extra hard, I can hear your voice just as real as if you are next to me.
“Trust Him, Sam,” you said. “God loves you.”
And I did. Sure as I’m writing this letter, I did. I thought of you and Eva, and how much you both needed me and I needed you. I thought of Eva, and how there was no way I was letting that guy leave with her. And I thought there was no way I could make that shot on my own. I had to trust Him. And you told me to.
I need you, Molly. I know that more now than ever. You’re everything to me. Thank you for sticking by me. Thank you for loving me no matter how unlovable I can be.
There’s one more thing. When I get home again, I’m going to tell you everything about my childhood and Tommy. You deserve to know that. You need to know it.
Love you,
Sam
Molly,
Hi, babe. Life here is slow and monotonous. I have so much time to think and pray. Lately my mind has been on the others who were caught up in this horrible web. The Moellers, the widows, that cop, and poor Thad. I miss him, you know. He was there for me when I needed a friend. Can you put some flowers on his grave for me?
There’s one thing I haven’t told anyone, not even the lawyer. Don’t ask me why I didn’t tell, probably was just too scared. Everyone was trying to paint me as something I wasn’t. The prosecuting attorney wanted to make me sane, my attorney wanted to make me a devoted, protective father doing what he had to do to rescue his daughter. I don’t know if I was sane or not. I really don’t. I suppose it doesn’t matter now.
You remember me saying I was seeing my brother, Tommy, right? In our house, that day at the battlefield, at the old house. Well, I saw him there at the end too. I thou
ght he had Eva, that he’d somehow come back from the dead and finally got his revenge on me by taking my daughter. I was so scared. If you’d cornered me then, I would have sworn on my own grave that it was him. Even now I’m not totally convinced he wasn’t there. I know it sounds strange, and no, I’m not going insane now, but every cell in my body knew it was him in that field with Eva. He was there. The man I shot, the hand, it was Tommy’s.
Anyway, I guess that doesn’t matter now either. I just had to get that off my chest. Isn’t that the most idiotic thing?
And there’s something else. My mother came to visit me here a few days ago. Can you believe it? She actually came the whole way up here to see me. I asked her a lot of questions, and we had a good talk. She finally opened up to me. Then she hit me with a real shocker. She told me there was something I needed to know about Samuel Whiting. Apparently he’s family. A great-great-great uncle on my mom’s side or something like that. She said there were other family members who’d gone off the deep end too. Isn’t that the weirdest thing?
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