Of Guilt and Innocence

by John Scanlan

  “What exactly does that mean, one thing led to another? You need to be more specific.”

  “We fucked, is that specific enough for you? Need to hear me say it? I’m not proud of it, you know. I don’t regularly screw married men. It just happened.” Angela’s eyes no longer seemed seductive; they now reflected anger, fear, annoyance, insanity.

  Jim knew she did not kill Ashley herself. Killing a child would take a certain type of individual, and in Jim’s experience, generally those individuals weren’t women. He knew there were very highly publicized cases of mothers killing their children, but there were very few cases of women abducting and killing unrelated children. What he was trying to figure out was if she had hired someone else to do it or if everything she was telling them, though it may have been true, was a waste of their time as far as Ashley’s murder was concerned.

  “All right, I understand, so continue with your story.”

  “So anyway, we saw each other a few times after that. He would always tell me he was unhappy at home and he didn’t like being tied down, stuff like that. I’m not saying he did it, but I’m just saying it wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “So how did the relationship end?” Jim asked, ignoring her insinuation.

  “It just . . . ended. I knew he was married, and he wasn’t going to leave his wife even though he was miserable with her. He used to tell me that all the time, that he hated going home at night.”

  “It just ended? Just like that?” Jim prodded.

  “Yeah . . . yup,” she said as she looked down at the table.

  “Come on, I have a hard time believing that. I know you don’t like letting men walk away from you without some type of punishment.” Jim knew what was coming. He knew from the minute that he saw Angela that this interview would end badly. He looked her square in the eyes and awaited her response.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She snarled, returning his glance with eyes that burned. She seemed to be on the verge of leaping over the table and attacking him.

  “Where were you this past weekend? Saturday, specifically?” Jim tried not to smirk as he asked.

  “You think I did this?” she shouted. “Oh, you are sick.” She tilted her head back as she made this statement, as if her body was slowly recoiling in disgust from the top down.

  “I know you have a history of bothering family members of men that aren’t interested in you anymore.”

  “Get out! I want you out of my house!” Angela stood up and pointed at the door. “I try to help you people and this is how you treat me? Like a suspect? I’ll sue your asses.”

  On that note Jim and Andy exited the residence in the fashion Jim had envisioned they would.

  “So what now?” Andy asked as the two got back in the car.

  “Now we go see Tom Wooten.”

  Andy was a little surprised by this, wondering what there would be to gain by confronting a man who had just lost his daughter with these seemingly unimportant allegations. But, he knew if Jim thought it was a good idea then there must be some merit in it, and so he decided just to sit back and observe.

  Jim pulled up in front of the Wooten home and shifted into park. Media outlets that had crowded the street and sidewalks surrounding the home just the day before had dissipated a little, but some remained. Andy reached for the car door handle, but Jim stopped him.

  “Listen good. This is not going to be an interrogation. This is giving him a chance to come clean about mistakes he has made in his life that may help us catch his daughter’s killer. We aren’t going to push this, not today. Keep. Your mouth. Shut.” Jim let go of his grip on Andy’s left wrist and the two exited the car amid questions from various reporters and the sounds of a few camera shutters. They were greeted at the door by Lisa’s father, who shook Jim’s hand and invited them both in. Many family members, most of whom Jim did not know, gathered around them waiting for some kind of news, which was why they assumed Jim and Andy had come. Tom was among them, but Lisa was not. “Uh, I’m sorry to intrude folks, but I just need to speak with Tom for a moment, privately, if you don’t mind.” Mark looked at Tom as if to inquire if it was all right and if he was feeling up to it.

  “Yeah, sure, let’s uh . . . go on the back deck.” Tom said sounding exhausted, and led Jim and Andy outside to the deck area, shutting the sliding glass door behind them. “What’s going on?” he asked as he placed both hands in his pants pockets.

  “Tom, listen, I know you’re going through a lot right now, and I apologize, but you need to come clean with us before I can do my job and find who did this. I think you know what I'm talking about.” Jim saw the look of fear in Tom’s eyes. He saw his nervousness and guilt. “We spoke with Angela today.”

  Tom rubbed his forehead roughly with his right hand. What little color had been there rapidly disappeared from his face.

  “We are not here to judge you, or rat you out, but we have to know, is there anyone else that may have reason to be upset with you? And it doesn’t just have to be from an affair. For any reason.”

  Tom folded his arms at his chest and looked at the wooden slats of the deck. It was only three days ago his little girl had stood where he stood, then had run around in the yard just beyond it. He took a deep breath. “All right, I’m not perfect. I’m not even a good guy, I guess. I love my family, I do . . . I did. I just wasn’t very strong. Angela was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. She was beautiful and she was sexy and she was . . . absolutely insane. She would show up almost daily at work and I would have to scramble to explain to Rick and Kurt why she was there. Finally, I ended it, or tried to. She threw two kitchen plates and a glass at me as I ran for the door. She would call my cell phone, she would wait for me in the parking lot. I didn’t know what to do. I had to try my best to keep Lisa from finding out, which was hard. She isn’t stupid. One time she must have been watching the shop from the parking lot and she saw Lisa and Ashley come visit me, so she came inside. I was terrified. And that’s exactly what she wanted. She just made up some bullshit story about needing someone to come to her house and fix her computer, which thankfully Rick and Kurt didn’t call her out on because I’m sure they remembered she had been in there for the same thing not too long before. She even talked to Ashley,” Tom swallowed his tears as best he could, “telling her what a great dad she had.” His voice cracked and softened to a breathy tone. “Then one day, about six months ago, maybe ten, she just stopped. I figured she found someone else and finally decided to leave me alone. But maybe she was planning something.” He paused then started again, “If she did this, I don’t think I can live with myself. My daughter was innocent, why not punish me directly?” For the first time he looked up at Jim, as if waiting for Jim to give him an answer.

  “All right, we need to know of anyone else. Here’s a notepad and pen, write down names and addresses if you remember them. And if you have had other affairs, even if things ended amicably, still write the names down. We still need to speak with them.” Tom nodded and began writing.

  The work day was quickly drawing to a close and everyone was finally back at the station. Dan’s interviews had yielded no productive information, though he still described each of them to Jim. Jim relayed the details of the medical examiner’s report, as well as his interviews with Angela and Tom. He then tossed the notebook Tom had written in on Dan’s desk.

  “Wow, I guess you were right. He was hiding something. So is it likely this Angela was involved?”

  “I don’t know,” Jim said leaning back in his chair. “She is crazy . . . I mean like certifiably nuts. But to go this far, I don’t know. I mean, I guess it's possibly she found some pedophile willing to do all this for money, but it just seems so unlikely. I just don’t know. I’m leaning away from her, but as of now, she’s the only suspect we have.”

  “That may not be necessarily true,” said Paul Bedard as he walked into Jim and Dan’s desks. “On the mall security video there is a guy, big fat guy, who bumps into and kn
ocks Ashley to the ground. It looks like he apologizes and exchanges pleasantries with both Ashley and her mother before they leave and he sits on a bench. That in itself might be nothing because it looked like Ashley was actually more at fault than he was. But I kept looking in the other video frames for this guy, and sure enough, he shows up in quite a few. He’s never too close, but he always seems to be lingering behind. He leaves about twenty minutes before they do, but out of the same exit. Unfortunately there is no video of him getting into a car, so we lose him there, but there is something else.”

  “What is it, Bedard?” Jim said rolling his eyes.

  “I was able to zoom in the best I could to get a somewhat clear image of his face. Still kind of blurry but it’s visible. I compared him to the stack of Palm Beach County sex offenders I had and he didn’t appear to match any. But then I tried to compare him to some Broward County sex offenders and he seems to fit the physical description of this guy, Louis Bradford.” Paul handed Jim a printout of Louis Bradford’s sex offender registry, which had his picture, height, weight, address, and a description of what crime he had committed to be deemed a sex offender. “He lives in Davie. I thought we could speak with Lisa Wooten tomorrow and see if she remembers him and if she saw him again, maybe in the parking lot area or outside of the mall, then head down to Davie to interview him.”

  “We? We, Bedard? What is this ‘we’ shit?” Jim asked as he looked at the printout.

  “Come on, I found this one, at least include me in the interview.”

  “Since I’m feeling nice today,” Jim looked up abruptly at Dan and interrupted himself, “I took the kid with me today, by the way.”

  “Oh yeah? How’d he do?” Dan asked. Jim just shook his head in response.

  “Since I’m feeling nice today, taking the kid out and all, I’ll let you tag along on our trip to Davie. But you are not speaking with Lisa Wooten. The woman has been through enough, she doesn’t need to be paraded in front of a million different detectives. Especially ones who seem giddy about their part of the investigation into her daughter's murder.” Jim paused for a minute and looked hard at the sex offender registry flyer Paul had given him.

  “Bradford . . . that name sounds familiar. He ever been arrested up here before?” Jim asked in a more cordial tone than he had initially started with.

  “Nope, only arrest was for the sex offense in Davie.”

  “Huh, I feel like I’ve heard that name before.” Jim said as he strained to search the recesses of his memory bank.

  Night was falling on the Wooten home, and family and friends were leaving. It had been the hardest few days of all of their lives, from cousins to friends, and, of course, for Tom and Lisa. The burden of making funeral arrangements fell to Tom, with assistance from Mark and some other family members. Lisa had been inconsolable since learning her daughter had been murdered. After being called by Tom, the dentist from the office she worked at came over and provided her with a prescription for oxycodone, which Tom filled and had given her. No other family members knew of this, except for Mark, and Tom had just told the others she had taken a few sleeping pills. She had, in fact, taken a sleeping pill as well as the oxycodone and the combination had pretty much knocked her out for the entire day, allowing her to get some rest for the first time since Friday evening.

  After the initial pain and chaos had washed over her, she began feeling something just as strong as grief. Guilt. Though she had just started to question herself and what she could have done differently before she was put in her current, almost coma like state, the guilt was the most intense feeling she had ever experienced. The combination of grief and guilt made it almost impossible for her to think, eat, or sleep on her own.

  Tom felt his own guilt as well though it wasn’t as consuming as Lisa’s. He worried that he may have been responsible for Ashley’s disappearance. What if he had just told the detectives right away about Angela? Could Ashley have been saved? He had hoped his infidelities could continue to be a secret, despite the intrusive police investigation. When he had learned of his daughter’s disappearance he thought there was a chance one of his mistresses could have been involved, Angela specifically, but he made the decision to remain quiet about their existence. Now he dealt with another emotion that Lisa had yet to contend with. Shame. He knew eventually everything would come to light and be out in the open. His philandering, his withholding information from the police, everything. He knew Lisa couldn’t take that kind of admission from him right now. She was barely hanging on. He knew he should tell her, at least about Angela, but it would have to wait for now.

  The house was almost empty. Only Mark remained, and he was already asleep on the living room couch, his makeshift bedroom. Tom sat alone at the dining room table, the same table he had sat at only two days before, watching Ashley chase the dog and run in the yard. As hard as he tried to suppress them, memories of Ashley flooded his thoughts. He remembered when she was born and how he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be a father, or if he would even be a good one. But then he held her for the first time and all his doubts slipped away.

  He remembered the trips they had all taken. Seeing her happy and excited was the most enjoyable thing he had ever done. And he remembered that last hug he had gotten from her, as she ran to him from across the living room right before he left Saturday morning. He wished he had squeezed her tighter. He wished he had lingered just a little bit longer. He wished he had never left.

  As the tears trickled down his cheeks he also thought of the future and how nothing would ever be the same. No trips to plan with her in mind. No more hugs. Nothing would ever be as enjoyable. He realized his life was now going to be separated into two categories: a before and an after, at least that’s how he would forever view it. No matter what occurred from now until his own death, he would forever view his memories as before and after the death of his daughter, as if a line had been drawn in his life. He knew others would only see the after; nothing he had ever done before would matter. They would see him and immediately think of a tragic incident, nothing more. He would never get over her death and knew he could never escape it. It was who he was now. A tragic figure.

  CHAPTER 14

  As morning coaxed him out of his slumber, Louis opened his eyes and gradually pulled himself out of bed. He struggled to focus and gain his bearings as he stumbled through the small apartment and into the bathroom. The apartment was just as he had left it before being hauled into an interrogation room the day before. He was certain the police would have searched it while he was away and found some type of evidence of his crimes, but when he returned he was relieved to find out that wasn’t the case. Nothing was displaced, nothing was missing that he was aware of. However, as he brushed his teeth and looked at himself in the small, dingy mirror he knew his time was running out. He knew that his luck was bound to change, and probably sooner rather than later now that he was an official police suspect.

  He was a suspect in the murder of his mother, and the murders of the seven other women that comprised the South Florida Strangler’s death toll. Though he was a serial killer himself, he never thought of himself as such. He had taken the lives of eight little girls, but he saw the murders as collateral damage of sorts. He hadn’t wanted to kill any of them. He derived no enjoyment out of it. He found it to be a necessary evil; he couldn’t simply release the girls after what he had done, and he saw it as his only option. He felt he had nothing in common with a man that simply wanted to murder.

  He knew there would be no evidence linking him to the South Florida Strangler cases, but he also knew that as the police tried to dig some up they would eventually uncover other evidence to the crimes he had committed. He was at a crossroads. He knew he had to flee. Still, he felt conflicted about leaving the only sanctuary he had ever known. About leaving his mother. As long as he remained in that apartment and on that property he could hang on to her. He would still be able to feel her presence.

  Louis made his way down the ladd
er and through the garage. He opened the door and stood facing the street. The glare from the sun temporarily blinded him. He felt its warmth on his skin. The morning air filled his nostrils. He only heard a soft breeze blowing. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. As his sight came back into focus he saw a yellow streamer flapping in the breeze at the corner of the property near the sidewalk. As the streamer flapped he could read in black bold print the words DO NOT CRO on it. Suddenly, the surreal moment he was having with Mother Nature was gone, he was once again reminded of the predicament he was in, and he closed the garage door and made his way to the house.

  Police had still been there when he returned last night, still searching his mother’s house. He paid them no attention and hid away in his apartment. He wasn’t sure what time they had left or if they would be back.

  He let himself into the kitchen and almost instinctively looked at the breakfast table. It was empty, as it had been the day before when he glanced at it. His mind flashed back to a time when it was full of foods he loved, specially made just for him. It wasn’t so long ago, just three days in fact, that he had enjoyed dinner at that table with his mother. Though he had complained about the food as he often did, he still enjoyed it. He still remembered the smell of her meat sauce as clearly as if it were simmering on the stove at that moment. He could see her there, cooking for him. He felt like she had just been there, with him in this place, only moments before, but he knew she was gone now, never to be there again. He glanced toward the living room, the place of his gruesome discovery, and the nostalgic images faded from his mind.