The Burden

by Andre Gonzalez

  He held a small remote in his hand and pointed it to the TV screen on the wall opposite the jury, directly to Jeremy’s left. The TV flickered to life and revealed a familiar picture.

  A beige door with a stainless steel handle, surrounded by white walls and a black keypad to the right. It was the side entrance into the Open Hands office. Jeremy’s stomach jumped at the sight and he felt the weight of the world once again wearing down on him.

  Geoff shuffled across the room and positioned himself in front of the jury. They looked at the TV and back to him as he stared at the ground, collecting his thoughts. It seemed like an eternity to Jeremy before he started speaking.

  “Behind this door is horror,” Geoff said, pointing to the image behind him. “Behind this door are bullets…brains…blood…and bodies. Behind this door, one man who thought he had lost his career, lost his love life, lost his purpose, came to execute a massacre.”

  Geoff paused, pointed the remote to the screen, and everyone watched as the image of the door gave way to an all black screen. Sound started to pour out of the TV’s speakers.

  “911, please state your emergency,” a voice said.

  “Please send help,” a shaky female voice cried. “We’re at the Open Hands office and there’s a shooter. There’s bodies everywhere. Please help.”

  The sound of bullets firing filled the dead air, along with piercing screams, before the sound clip abruptly ended.

  Geoff strode toward Jeremy until he stood five feet in front him, still facing the jury. He raised a finger and pointed it directly at Jeremy—into his soul, it felt—without looking at him.

  “This man murdered thirteen people on March 11, 2016. Thirteen innocent people. Thirteen people who had woken up that morning to go to work like any other day. Thirteen people who were excited that it was Friday and had a fun weekend ahead. Thirteen people who never went home after kissing their families good-bye in the morning. This guy did that.”

  Geoff’s bony finger seemed to dig into Jeremy before he lowered his hand and returned to the jury.

  “You’re going to hear a lot in this trial about mental health and mental illness. While that may very well be a factor, I ask that you keep an open mind to the bigger narrative taking place.

  “The months leading up to March 11 were filled with disappointment and rejection for Jeremy Heston. He had worked with his company for nearly four years, gaining respect over that time, and was positioned for a long and successful career with the company. When opportunity presented itself in the form a promotion, he applied for it. Who wouldn’t? We’ve all reached that point when it’s time to reach for more.

  “But he was rejected for this promotion, and it crippled his spirits. Shortly after, another opportunity became available, one you could argue he’d been groomed to do. Now, I want you to pay close attention to this specific time frame.

  “He’s once again rejected for the promotion, and at the same time, he has to deal with the ending of a long romantic relationship. With two rejected promotions and a breakup—all within a six-week window—his work performance clearly declines, as you’ll see. It declines so badly that he’s placed on disciplinary action.

  “This disciplinary action took place in early January, two months prior to him opening fire on his coworkers. The month following this, he made clear progress with his work performance, and for a brief moment it seemed everything had returned to normal—until late February, when the company started its annual review process.

  “Now, Jeremy did not receive a pay raise, after having received a raise of at least ten percent every year the prior three years. Two weeks after that, paperwork had been written up to terminate his employment with the company after four years of service. The date for his termination? March 11, 2016. The very day he walked into his office with an AR-15 assault rifle and massacred his coworkers.

  “Now, let’s look at the big picture here. Two promotion rejections, one breakup, one stiffed raise, and one pending job termination. With the exception of the breakup, all these events had one common denominator: Shelly Williams.”

  Geoff clicked the remote and a portrait of Shelly, her husband, and her daughter posing in front of a lake filled the screen.

  “Shelly Williams was the director of the customer service department for Open Hands and was involved in every decision regarding this guy’s future with the company. More important, Shelly was a mother to a 13-year-old girl who just started high school last month. This young woman no longer has a mother to guide her through the most difficult years of her life.

  “You will see later that Shelly was the first person shot in this vicious attack. Coincidence? I think not. I propose that this crime was an act of revenge. I propose he had every intent to kill Shelly Williams that day, before panic spread across the office and he reacted by firing his weapon at anything moving.”

  Geoff clicked his remote again. A portrait of Mark now filled the screen, grinning and full of life.

  “This is Mark Fernandez. Mark was hired as Jeremy’s manager after he was rejected for the same position. Mark was the second person shot after Shelly Williams had collapsed at her desk. Mark was also involved in the rejected raise and the pending termination. That means the first two people shot were the two people who had made this guy’s life a living hell.”

  Geoff clicked, and Jeremy’s heart sunk. A picture of a smiling Sylvia filled the screen, along with her son, who had the same smile as his mother.

  “Sylvia Hamilton. Sylvia worked directly with the shooter and was a good friend to him. Why she deserved to go as part of his sick game is beyond me. She was mother to the 9-year-old boy you see in this picture—another child who now has to live the rest of his life without a mother.”

  Click.

  “This is Janae Valdez. Janae had moved to Denver from Texas in hopes of starting a long career with Open Hands. She was even interviewed by the shooter as part of her initial screening. She was only 23 years old.”

  Oh, Janae, I should’ve never hired you.

  Click.

  “This is Cherie Robinson. Cherie was Janae’s best friend. She was found dead in the office right at Janae’s side. Both Cherie and Janae worked on the same team as the shooter. Cherie was 27 and left behind a 5-year-old girl and a 3-year-old boy.”

  Sorry, Cherie, I never had anything against you.

  Click.

  “This is Terri Sharpe. Terri had been with the company for six years and was involved with the interviewing and hiring of the shooter. She worked as a manager in the department and was well loved. Terri was 32 and leaves behind a husband of three years.”

  Jeremy thought back to his first interview at E-Nonymous when Terri and Trevor welcomed him so graciously to the company.

  Click.

  “This is Charlie Chappell. Charlie worked in the customer service department. This was his first job out of college. He was a soft-spoken person who liked to connect with his teammates and always brought a smile to others. Charlie was 22 years old.”

  Jeremy had chatted with Charlie a few times, but never really knew him.

  Click.

  “This is Ian Hagy. Ian was hired on shortly after Jeremy, but had never worked directly with him. Ian was shot while trying to save others. He was banging a chair against the barricaded door that Jeremy used to keep everyone trapped in the office while he took his time. Ian was 31 years old.”

  You were a good guy, Ian.

  Click.

  “This is Erin Hoffman. Erin started with the company only two months prior to the shooting. She was the mother of two adult children and was looking forward to working what she considered to be her final job before retiring to sail the world with her husband. She was 52”

  I have no idea who you are, Erin.

  Click.

  “This is Tanya Vegas. Tanya had recently become a U.S. citizen after her four years of college at the University of Michigan. This was her first job after college too. She was 21 years old and leaves behi
nd six younger siblings in Argentina.”

  Jeremy remembered briefly meeting Tanya and admired her beauty. He had tried talking to her a few months after Jamie dumped him, but nothing ever came of it.

  Click.

  “This is Kevin Woodland. Kevin worked as a salesman for the company. One of the sales teams had a meeting that day on the customer service level and he was one of the three who lost their lives in that meeting. He died covering and saving his girlfriend, who also worked with the company. He was 26 years old.”

  Another good guy.

  Click.

  “This is Daniel Rodriguez. Daniel was one of the highest-performing salesmen in the company’s history. He was leading the training class that day, teaching new salesmen how to become the best at their roles. He was a leader on the sales floor and would get to know everyone that joined the company on a personal level. He was 32.”

  The top salesman in the Denver office, everybody loved you.

  Click.

  “Last but not least, this is B.J. Reynolds. B.J. was killed trying to crawl out of the training room after the shooter had entered. He was also part of a newly hired group of salespeople. B.J. was 25 years old.”

  Geoff paused to return to his table and have a sip of water.

  “I want you to remember these thirteen faces. These people did nothing to deserve the fate they received on March 11. They had all gone into work, to make their company and their world a better place, before this guy decided to act on his selfish, violent impulses and unleash hell on everyone who got in his way.”

  Geoff returned to his seat and wrote in his notebook. Linda, who had been taking notes throughout the opening statement, continued doing so as Wilbert rose from his seat and approached the jury. Jeremy had never noticed how tall Wilbert stood; he towered over the jury box. He’d never spoken directly with him either. Linda had always been the one to come to the jail, and Jeremy wondered why Wilbert was now the one giving their opening statement. Despite his older age, he appeared refreshed, standing in front of the jury in a suit as fine as Geoff’s, with a perfectly groomed beard. He put on a pair of glasses as he cleared his throat.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Mr. Batchelor just provided us with a rather engaging story. Like Judge Zamora said earlier, this is a trial of mental illness. I’m not going to stand here and try to convince you that my client didn’t commit these heinous crimes. He did. He killed thirteen people and wounded twenty-two others—that is a fact. I will, however, convince you that there are many holes in Mr. Batchelor’s story, with regard to what this case is actually about. You’ll be left to decide whether my client was sane or insane during the attack on his office.

  “While the narrative provided by Mr. Batchelor may make sense on the surface, I ask you to take a closer look at the details. There’s a reason why he asked you to look at the big picture, and that’s because if you look at the facts up close, his story simply does not add up.

  “You’ll hear from one of the top psychiatrists in the world. She’ll paint a clear picture of a dormant mental illness that became disturbed and elevated to a breaking point. Sure, the events mentioned by Mr. Batchelor, at my client’s workplace in the months prior, contributed to his actions, but you’ll see how it was really his mental illness that blurred the lines of reality within Mr. Heston’s mind.

  “The murders committed were disgusting and vile. But by the time Mr. Heston stepped into the office, his perception of reality was so skewed, he no longer lived in the same world we live in. To him, this world seemed as real as this seems to you right now.

  “Mental illness runs in Mr. Heston’s family, and his ancestor had suffered from disturbing episodes as a result. The defendant has suffered through a serious, undiagnosed disorder. The disorder poisoned his mind the same way cancer poisons the body.

  “Throughout this case you’ll be hearing a lot about Mr. Batchelor’s story and also about mental health. Mental health is backed by science. We can’t ever ignore cold, hard science.

  “For someone sane to pull off a violent outburst like this would require some sort of planning. The evidence presented in this trial will show you that no matter how defeated Mr. Heston may have felt by the happenings in his life, at no point is there proof to show that this attack was planned. Mr. Heston went to bed on March 10 with a disease plaguing his mind, and when he woke up on the 11th he decided to act on that disease by grabbing the rifle he had owned for quite some time and taking it to his office.

  “As for Shelly Williams and Mark Fernandez being the first two people shot, that can simply be explained by their location relative to Mr. Heston’s entrance. Shelly sat no more than ten feet in front of him when he entered the room, and Mark was the next closest to her. Don’t let some romanticized story of revenge trick you into believing something that’s simply not there.

  “Mr. Heston had improved his working relationship with Shelly and Mark—you’ll find that documented just as much as his discipline was documented a month prior. His closest friend in the office is on the list of victims you just saw. No sane person is going to shoot their friend, especially with no reason to do so.

  “You’re all sane people. You can all probably relate to the struggles that Mr. Heston had gone through. You’ve likely found yourself in the same position as him: turned down for a job, turned down for a raise, turned down from a relationship with someone you loved. Sane people can handle these issues through other means. Sane people would look for a new job elsewhere after so much rejection. Sane people know when to let go of a relationship and wait for someone new. Sane people don’t take a gun to their office and shoot everyone in sight. That’s what an insane person does.

  “Put yourself in his position and imagine how you’d handle each problem that arose. How could you do that if you’d lost all sense of reality? Psychiatry easily explains how these external factors built up to Mr. Heston’s snapping point.

  “You’ll notice over the course of this trial that Mr. Heston may seem distracted, aloof, or disconnected at times, and that is because of the medication he has been prescribed. Please do the right thing and make sure Mr. Heston receives the care he needs: in a mental institution, not in jail. Thank you.”

  Wilbert returned to his seat next to Linda. Geoff glared at him as he passed. The jury relaxed after sitting rigid for both opening statements, some of their faces pale.

  Judge Zamora broke the silence. “Thank you, counsel. Jurors, please remember that opening statements are not to be used as evidence. Everything that was just discussed will be further fleshed out over the trial, with actual testimony and evidence. I want to take a quick fifteen-minute recess before we begin with the first witness. We’ll meet back here at 11 a.m. sharp.”

  Judge Zamora banged his gavel, and chatter immediately erupted in the courtroom.

  Here we go, Jeremy thought. Let’s see what these lawyers can do.

  22

  Chapter 22

  Monday, October 23, 2017

  Ricky Heston sat toward the back of the courtroom, palms sweating, his suit jacket absorbing moisture from his armpits. Seeing Jeremy’s victims flash by on the screen made the whole thing seem real again after eighteen months.

  He listened to the opening statements while staring at the back of Jeremy’s head, wondering how his nephew had taken such a nasty turn in life. He remembered taking him to so many sporting events as a kid, and seeing Jeremy’s face light up every time they walked up the steps at different stadiums. His nephew had been so happy all the time, full of life, and he ached at the thought of what he had done to all those innocent lives.

  Ricky had been informed by the district attorney that he would be the first witness called to the stand.

  “I want to set Jeremy’s background with guns right off the bat,” the D.A. had told him over the phone.

  It felt like he was working against his nephew, but had no choice. Just answer the questions. And keep those spent shells out of your mind!

&n
bsp; Ricky had flown in a week earlier to settle back into town and prepare for his testimony. The high altitude had caused his skin to shrivel up like a raisin after living at sea level for over a year. Despite his itchy flesh, Ricky loved being back in his home city.

  He caught up with his brother and sister-in-law, and they filled him in on every detail of the trial—it seemed they might have known more than the lawyers after obsessing over every bit of released information. Despite their morbid fascination with the trial, he thought they seemed almost back to their normal selves, considering the circumstances. Robert thanked him for coming back home to contribute to the trial, even though he was the prosecution’s witness.

  The week flew by and Ricky was thankful. Being stuck in the middle of the trial made him want to get away, and he’d planned to catch the first flight back to Florida tomorrow.

  He hadn’t dared visit his cabin, wanting to keep it as far out of his mind as possible. The lawyers had never asked about the cabin in the pretrial questionnaires, so he assumed there would be no surprises on the witness stand. Besides, they never presented a warrant of any sort to search his property, meaning they didn’t know about the cabin.

  Ricky had no real reason to be nervous for his testimony, but he was. He watched as the judge entered the courtroom again, knowing his number would be called within minutes.

  They don’t know about the cabin. The shell is sunk in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

  “Mr. Batchelor, your first witness, please,” Judge Zamora said once the jury had settled into their seats. Silence and tension filled the air as everyone awaited the trial’s first witness. Who would it be? What would they say?

  The D.A. stood, buttoned his jacket, and said, “The prosecution calls Richard Heston to the stand.”

  Ricky stood and felt all eyes in the audience immediately turn to him. The gallery was only eight rows, with an aisle separating the two sides. Jeremy was on Ricky’s left as he approached the bar and pushed open the swinging door. Robert sat in the front row behind Jeremy and nodded to Ricky when their eyes locked. He could see the pain and anxiety in his brother’s brown eyes.