The Burden

by Andre Gonzalez

  Everything had gone according to Linda’s plan so far.

  Geoff Batchelor glared at them across the aisle before the judge entered the courtroom, silencing the soft murmurs from the gallery.

  The judge’s instructions from the last hearing were in effect: Media were sitting only in the back row of the gallery. The rest of the seats were filled with people whose lives Jeremy had ruined—and Jeremy’s parents, who had a reserved seat in the front row, behind the defense table. Jeremy had avoided eye contact with them as he entered the room, but could feel their stare burning a hole in the back of his head. Every time he shuffled into the courtroom, dragging his shackles, he faced the gallery of people but refused to look at them. They were all blank faces as far as he was concerned. Linda had made it plenty clear that he should steer away from showing any outward emotion. And locking eyes with his mom or dad would surely break the composure he had formed.

  The court sat in awkward silence, waiting for the judge to start the proceedings. “Good morning, everyone,” Judge Zamora said, after flipping through documents on his bench. “We have a long day ahead of us, over a thousand pieces of evidence to review. This may even lead into tomorrow, so we won’t waste any time with pleasantries. There will be no camera in court today, as this is merely a preliminary hearing to discuss evidence. The public doesn’t need to know about evidence that will not be allowed in the trial. Mr. Batchelor, you may start us off.”

  The legal teams had come fully staffed for the hearing, groups of attorneys and assistants huddled around the tables and behind the bar. For the defense, the prior hearings had just been Linda and Wilbert along with a young woman he guessed to be an intern who sat behind the attorneys, taking notes and whispering to Wilbert at random times. Today, however, another man sat beside Wilbert, and there were three others who joined the intern, each with thick notepads and pens that moved quickly whenever a word was spoken. No one ever spoke to Jeremy aside from Linda, and he supposed this was done on purpose. She was his direct representation, while everyone else was on her team to help.

  Across the aisle, Geoff and a female attorney whispered to each other as she flipped through a folder of documents before he proceeded to the podium facing Judge Zamora.

  Geoff and his team would end up doing most of the speaking for the day. They had mountains of evidence to present, while Jeremy’s defense team just had the interviews with Dr. Brown, and some other minor details.

  For Jeremy, the evidence presented throughout the day caused ups and downs. Then there were stretches of time filled with complete boredom, as they submitted each individual bullet casing, shards of drywall, computers, and video footage of his interviews with Dr. Reed.

  Other times, the presentations occupied all of Jeremy’s attention and poked at his soul. The crime scene photos were enlarged on the screen, showing every detail of the bullet wounds, blood trails, and dead bodies. Jeremy’s stomach churned, seeing the graphic pictures. Faces of people he’d known for years, busted open, blood and brains spilling out. Each victim had at least thirty pictures that fully captured their violent demise.

  Each victim was identified by name, sending a wave of sorrow throughout Jeremy. He knew this part would be difficult, even back when he was planning, but still experienced plenty of remorse.

  The prosecution presented the pictures of Sylvia last of the thirteen victims. Her face rested peacefully, her eyes closed by Jeremy before the police had arrived. A hole opened in the flesh on her throat reminded Jeremy of a broken egg after a chick hatches. He wondered what was going through Sylvia’s mind before that bullet cut off her esophagus. She must have been so confused to see me behind that gun. Rest in peace, my friend, I’m sorry.

  Jeremy slumped in his chair at the sight of the picture, and Linda nudged him to sit up before anyone else noticed.

  The pictures of the training room grabbed Jeremy’s full attention. On the day of the shooting, as meticulously as he’d planned, he hadn’t expected a room full of sales reps in the training room and had been surprised upon finding them there. His time had been running out when he’d entered the room, so he’d opened fire without staying to see the damage he left behind.

  The pictures presented showed more gore. Since everyone had hidden under their desks, the walls remained a pristine white. The blue carpeting, however, had turned purple from all the blood soaking in it. Three dead bodies appeared in the pictures, with streaks of blood leading toward the doors where others had presumably crawled to safety.

  He remembered the feeling of his rifle: hot to the touch. It would probably have jammed had he tried to shoot any more after the training room.

  Jeremy had walked out of the training room to a silent office. Other than the faint humming of computers, all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing and his heart pounding in his ears. Bloody footsteps had trailed around the corner toward the H.R. department and presumably out the front door.

  When Jeremy had returned to his side of the office, with a quarter of his coworkers dead on the ground and the rest having fled while he had a ball in the training room, he’d sat at his desk and dropped his rifle with an echoing clatter. He felt totally alone in the world, knowing there was now no going back, no way to escape his actions.

  He had felt at peace with it, though. Despite the doubts and fears that had built up before the big day, once the act was complete he knew he’d done the right thing. There were thousands of people suffering from the same loneliness as him, trapped in their own mind with no escape.

  He was the only hope his fellow trapped souls had, to get them out of the dark, to get them the help they needed to live a normal life.

  No matter what anyone says, I did this for all of us.

  Jeremy snapped out of his memories when he heard Jamie’s name mentioned. Linda was arguing with Geoff about her validity as a witness.

  “Ms. Sylvester had nothing to do with this crime. She and the defendant had ended their relationship seven months before the incident. She has no relevance to this case.”

  “Your Honor,” Geoff cut in. “In cases like this, there are life events that lead up to such a heinous crime. I think an interview with Ms. Sylvester may give us some insight as to how the relationship ended, and if that had any effect on the defendant’s behavior. She might have even noticed a change in his mental health that could be beneficial to the defense.”

  Judge Zamora stared at Geoff, his fist propped at his mouth, weighing his decision. “I’m going to disallow Ms. Sylvester as a witness. There are surely numerous outside factors that influenced the defendant’s actions, but this one simply doesn’t fit with the timeline.”

  Geoff sat down, pissed off.

  Jamie.

  Jeremy hadn’t thought much about Jamie during his time in jail, too consumed with the horrific images from March 11 in his mind every time he closed his eyes. He had loved her. At one time he believed he would marry her. He closed his eyes and remembered her scent.

  What had she thought, seeing his face in the news? She was probably devastated and relieved, he guessed: devastated to think she had dated a mass murderer, relieved to have ended the relationship before things went so terribly wrong.

  Did our breakup lead to me doing this?

  He thought back to that time. His life had been crumbling all around him. He had been rejected for a promotion for a second time by Shelly. That was what had really ignited the spark. Shelly. She had fucked him over more times than he could count. The thought of her still made his blood boil, and he wondered if she was haunting his mind from the grave.

  If Jamie hadn’t called off the relationship, would things have gone differently? Jeremy couldn’t know for sure. He sat in court today for killing thirteen people and wounding twenty-two others. That was the only truth he knew for sure.

  As the day progressed, more memories flooded his mind as names were mentioned: Clark, Dr. Siva, Nicole. He would be seeing all of these people at some point in the near future and they
would testify about what happened that day and the days leading up to it.

  But Jeremy had covered his tracks. There had still been no evidence of premeditation.

  * * *

  By the end of the day, at 4 p.m., Jeremy was emotionally drained. The medication kept him relaxed enough to not let his emotions get the best of him. More than a thousand exhibits of evidence had been officially submitted, along with 112 witnesses. Judge Zamora acted quickly and confidently on every decision, hurrying the attorneys through the process.

  “Your Honor, the defense would like to motion for a continuance. We haven’t fully reviewed the video interviews between Mr. Heston and the two psychiatrists.”

  “How much more time do you think you’ll need?” the judge asked.

  “I’d say two months.”

  “Mr. Batchelor?”

  “Two months is good, Your Honor,” Geoff said. His team hadn’t reviewed all fifty hours of footage either.

  “Very well,” the judge said. “We can plan for a hearing on the 21st of November. Thank you all for your speedy work today. Court is adjourned.” Judge Zamora banged his gavel and disappeared to his chambers.

  “Today was a good day,” Linda told Jeremy before the officer came to take him back to jail. “We had a lot of things go our way.”

  Jeremy nodded. Linda had told him to refrain from speaking in the courtroom unless directly addressed by the judge. The defense team was there to speak on his behalf.

  Jeremy stood when the officer arrived and glanced over his shoulder, to see his father staring at him, and his mother crying beside him.

  13

  Chapter 13

  Monday, November 21, 2016

  A light snow fell over the courthouse as the trial inched closer toward an official start. Jeremy had continued his routine of popping pills and becoming a vegetable on his cot every other day. The days between medication bored him. They brought him books to read, but he couldn’t make his mind focus. Jail had managed to turn his once brilliant mind into a pile of useless mush in his skull. A day in court was just the change of pace he needed.

  “Your Honor, we have new exhibits we’d like to submit for evidence,” Geoff Batchelor said.

  Both parties had officially agreed on the submission of the videos in full, which was supposed to have been the topic of the hearing.

  Linda sat up stiffly. The district attorney’s office had emailed a memo that morning with information on the new exhibit, she had told Jeremy. Geoff Batchelor wanted to play dirty.

  Geoff saw the disgust on her face and addressed it. “My apologies, counsel, there are some things we came across late yesterday.”

  “Proceed,” Judge Zamora said sternly.

  “Your Honor, we would like to present exhibit 1672.” Geoff held up a manila envelope. “The contents are from the defendant’s former employer. We have a form that shows the defendant was placed on what they called a PIP, or ‘performance improvement plan’ three months before his attack. There is also documentation that the defendant was denied a raise, along with paperwork showing the pending termination of his employment—set for March 11, 2016.”

  Someone in the back gasped. Linda scribbled on her notepad, her hand shaking. She bolted up from her seat.

  “Your Honor, we need time to review these new documents,” she said. Jeremy could hear the anger in her voice.

  “Mr. Batchelor, how many pages are your documents?” Judge Zamora asked.

  Geoff flipped through the envelope, as if he didn’t already know the answer. “Looks like five pages.”

  “Ms. Kennedy, we will get you copies of these documents to review today,” Judge Zamora said. “We’ll take a recess and reconvene after lunch. That should be enough time for you to review. Is there anything else, Mr. Batchelor?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. We would like to submit Richard Heston as a witness.”

  Uncle Ricky.

  “A relative of the defendant?” the judge questioned.

  “Yes, Your Honor. The defendant’s uncle. It is our understanding that the defendant and his uncle spent time together at shooting ranges over the years, and we would like to hear from him regarding just that.”

  Jeremy’s heart dropped to the bottom of his gut. Linda peered at Jeremy with a look of disgust. He could read her mind: why the hell hadn’t he mentioned any of this to her? She knew an objection would do no good. If Jeremy’s uncle had directly been involved with guns of any sort, there was no way around it.

  “We accept the witness, Your Honor,” Linda said, defeated. Geoff smirked.

  “Very well. Let’s break for recess and plan to meet back here at 2 p.m.” Judge Zamora banged his gavel and left.

  Linda conversed briefly with Wilbert to her left before returning to her notebook and speaking to Jeremy under her breath. “It would be helpful to know these kind of things ahead of time. If you were about to get fired, this looks pretty bad for you.”

  Jeremy nodded, mind racing. There had to be a way out. The PIP had ended a good month before the shooting, and his relationship with Shelly and Mark had improved from that point on. The stiffed raise could easily be explained as a result of the PIP. I was never told I was being fired, only that it was being considered. The only people in the room that day were Shelly and Mark. And me. He smirked. Only one of them was still above ground, and that person would not be testifying. Fuck you, Shelly, looks like you won’t be able to do any more damage to my life. It’s my word against yours, and neither of us are going to say a damn thing.

  It would all depend on what kind of notes Shelly had left with H.R. If she’d simply filed the paperwork for his termination, that didn’t prove Jeremy had been informed the firing was coming. Jeremy had spent enough time in court by now, he’d started to think like a lawyer, looking for loopholes.

  As far as his Uncle Ricky, Jeremy hadn’t heard from him in quite some time, despite having visited his cabin every weekend for shooting practice.

  * * *

  “Why would you not mention this?” Linda demanded through the glass divider. She had come to see Jeremy in prison right after the hearing. Her team had read through the documents provided by Open Hands regarding Jeremy’s crumbling work performance, and had filed an objection, which was denied as expected. The documents were official evidence now.

  “That all seemed so petty, in the past. I didn’t think it was relevant, and I still don’t.”

  Linda shook her head. “You were going to be fired on the day you murdered half your department—how on Earth could that be irrelevant?” She had never raised her voice to Jeremy, and her passion aroused him. “They’re building a premeditation case around this.”

  “I had no idea I was getting fired.” Jeremy decided to go all-in on his bluff, hoping Shelly had failed to mention in her notes that she had warned Jeremy about being fired. It was Thursday, March 10, when she had pulled him into the conference room to rant about the bullying he had supposedly done toward Janae. Mark had sat in the corner silently as Shelly told Jeremy she was considering firing him. Shelly was so emotional that day, she could have easily let that detail slip in her write-up. Since Linda didn’t dispute his claim that he didn’t know—and she had read the documents—he assumed he was right.

  “We’ll come back to the firing. You didn’t receive a raise that year, after having received at least a ten percent raise the prior three years. How can you expect the jurors to not see the shootings as you getting some sort of revenge?”

  “It’s a new company. They bought us and did things different. I wasn’t the only to not get a raise.”

  Linda took notes as Jeremy spoke. “And then this performance improvement plan in January? The prosecution is probably going to pin that as your turning point, the time you decided enough is enough.”

  “The plan also mentioned how Shelly offered me a severance package if I wanted to leave, did it not?”

  “Yes, it did.”

  “Why wouldn’t I have just taken the money? It
was a nice amount.”

  Linda didn’t respond, only stared at Jeremy through the glass.

  “I was happy there. It was an amazing company to work for. I had no intention of leaving. All I ever wanted, toward the end, was to get out from under Shelly’s supervision, to somewhere I would be appreciated.”

  “Why did you shoot Shelly first?”

  Jeremy jolted back and tossed his hands in the air. “I told you, I don’t remember the shooting. I know I walked in the building and down the hallway to our department. Shelly’s desk was first when you entered from the side door, that’s probably why I shot her first.”

  Linda stared at him, not blinking—and from what Jeremy could tell, not breathing either.

  “Something’s off, and I don’t like it. You’re obviously a smart kid, about to graduate with a degree in psychology and scheduled to begin a master’s program in the fall. I personally have a hard time believing an event like this wouldn’t be planned out in great detail, especially considering how smoothly it went for you. And that leads me to believe that you planned this out, that you knew exactly how to cover your tracks. You understand the psychology side of the matter, that’s a given, but how did you know how to cover it up legally? You have no background whatsoever with the law—surely you would have missed a detail somewhere along the line.” Linda appeared calm, but Jeremy could tell from her voice that she was upset. Whose side are you on? Why are you trying to poke so many holes in my story?

  “Who are we calling as witnesses?” Jeremy asked. The last hearing about the evidence was a whole lot of the prosecution talking while Linda sat there taking notes.