The Burden

by Andre Gonzalez

  “This should be everything,” Steve said. “You have about fifteen minutes left today. The room will be locked once you all leave. Come find me if you have any questions.”

  “Thanks, Steve,” Cathleen said as she pulled a box toward herself. “Alright all, we have the evidence. Do we want to go through each piece together and discuss? Or do more of a free-for-all?”

  “Let’s start with a free-for-all,” the older man with the beard said. “Then we can discuss pieces of evidence that we feel are relevant. No need to go over every single bullet casing and whatnot.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Cathleen said. “Let’s start sifting through the boxes, and if you come across something to discuss, set it aside for the morning when we get back.”

  The jurors dove into the boxes, quiet chatter breaking out among them for the first time in a while. Their final minutes of the day passed and they all left the courthouse with a new sense of energy. They had done the sitting, listening, and waiting over the last two weeks, and now it was their time to shine.

  34

  Chapter 34

  Wednesday, November 8, 2017

  Day 13 of the trial

  Jeremy sat in his cell, elbows propped on his knees, his head resting on clasped hands. He’d spoken to God a lot more in recent days, when the realization had finally sunk in that none of this was in his hands.

  After all his damned planning, perfecting, and execution—none of it mattered. He was a mass murderer, a monster who would surely be shot dead in the street if he was ever released. He was wasting taxpayers’ time and money with his bullshit trial that would inevitably end with him locked up for life at the very least.

  Why did I think I was special? What kind of fucked-up delusion did I have to think I could actually pull this off? Those jurors don’t give a shit about my life—they want me dead like the rest of the world.

  Dr. Siva came into his mind, and he remembered all of their late-night meetings, when they discussed life, politics, and work.

  “You planted this idea in my head,” Jeremy whispered. A buzzing sound preceded the lights turning off. It was ten at night, time for bed. Time to ponder where it all went wrong. Wasn’t that the point of jail?

  If I never went through with all this, where would I be today?

  He would’ve been fired on March 11, 2016. A single, unemployed life would have awaited him, but he could’ve bounced back. The last time he’d been fired from a job, a new company came calling to start the next chapter of his life. Now he could only wonder what that next chapter would have been.

  Have you ever wondered if maybe those doctors are right? an inner voice asked. Two doctors did diagnose you with a mental illness.

  “I’m not mentally ill. Absolutely not. I think I’d know if I was.” Jeremy whispered to himself and stood up from his bed, pacing around his cell. He had never taken the thought seriously, so focused on selling himself as mentally ill. “Does a mentally ill person know that they’re mentally ill?”

  Of course not. Their lives continue as normal in their mind. They don’t realize they’re different until they end up in a situation like this.

  “I’m not crazy. I’m not bipolar. I’ve been in charge the whole time.” Jeremy shook the thought free, convinced everything had so far gone according to his plan.

  Now there’s only three possibilities: I live in the nut house until I die, I live in prison until I die, or I get sentenced to die.

  Jeremy felt he had finally snapped out of the trance that had taken hold of him since late 2015, and his body trembled. The reality of the situation blanketed his emotions, turning him numb to the rest of the world. With three possible outcomes that all ended in death, all Jeremy wanted was to lie down and die.

  I don’t even have a plan in case I do get sent to the loony bin. What the fuck did I think would happen? I outsmart some psychiatrists and get released back into society? I’ll never be allowed to see the world again, and if I somehow did, someone would find me and wipe me off the map themselves.

  He couldn’t even kill himself. The jail cells didn’t allow for it. He could bash his head into the concrete walls, but he knew that would only knock him unconscious before he could land a final blow to cut out the lights for good. He had remained in solitary confinement the entire time, so he couldn’t even bait some meathead into a fight to bash his brains in for him.

  So I sit here to rot. Whatever happens in that courtroom, it all ends the same for me. I’m never going to have friends, never going to any more sports games with Uncle Ricky and my dad, I’m never going to love again, never going to see the world. It’s just a long crawl to the finish line.

  Jeremy started crying. The joke was on him. Society didn’t give a shit about mental illness. If you kill innocent people, you get sentenced to life in prison or death; there’s simply no tolerance for such actions in a healthy world.

  “Snap out of it, Jeremy.” He smacked himself on the head, snot dripping from his nose. “It’s not over. Nothing’s been decided yet.”

  What would I do if I got sent to the loony bin?

  Having something to focus his mind on helped distract him from the doom that awaited.

  Let’s assume I get the insanity verdict. I’ll be processed into a mental institution, but I’m not insane. I can find a way out. There’s always a way out. I would be hunted if I escaped and would need to find a solid hiding spot, possibly move states after the initial hype dies down and live under a new alias. I could write a book about why I did it all and it could be the ultimate liberation for the mentally ill. I could—

  “What the fuck?” Jeremy jumped. Through the darkness of the jail cell, he could make out the silhouette of a tall man standing at the cell door. The man stood stiffly, with his hands crossed in front of him. The body remained still and Jeremy could feel the man’s eyes locked on his every movement. “Who are you?” Jeremy’s voice trembled.

  “Who I am doesn’t matter.” The voice came out of the darkness in a chilling, dark tone.

  “What do you want from me?” Jeremy’s heart drummed against his ribcage, and deep down he liked the adrenaline. He felt alive again.

  “It’s not what I want from you. It’s what you know you want from yourself. You’re a killer, Jeremy. Get back out there and kill, it’s the only way.”

  “The only way to what?” Jeremy asked, seated at the edge of his bed, fists clenched.

  “The only way to prove your grand scheme. The big experiment. You know, the reason you’re here.”

  The body hadn’t moved, as far as Jeremy could tell. Chills broke out down his spine.

  “I killed to prove a point.”

  “You killed because you’re crazy. People go through the same things you went through every day, and no one else shoots everyone around them. You see the world differently. You’re special. Few people can slaughter others and claim it was in the name of science, to separate themselves from the guilt.”

  “I’ve felt plenty of guilt. I didn’t want to kill any of those people.”

  “Precisely. You had to, right?”

  Jeremy paused. Whoever the fuck this guy was, he knew exactly how to push his buttons. He felt the rage from several months ago start to boil up again.

  “Who are you?” Jeremy kept his voice calm, despite having the urge to scream.

  “First off,” the man said, disregarding Jeremy’s question, “I can feel that hot anger you have. I was worried it left you, but it’s still there. You have a beast inside you that needs to be fed; stop trying to keep it trapped. Second, you don’t know me, but you’ve seen me before.”

  Jeremy tried to focus on the dark voice, but couldn’t recognize it for the life of him. Who the fuck is this?

  “You saw me the morning of the shooting. You passed me in the doorway right when you entered the building.”

  Jeremy went back to that fateful day. Then he remembered.

  “The man in the suit?” he asked.

  “So you do reme
mber me? Thought you would.” Jeremy could hear a smile in the man’s voice.

  “I do remember, I almost shot you because I didn’t know who you were. Why are you here? Who are you?”

  “Well, Jeremy, why do you suppose I’m here?”

  Jeremy’s mind raced. How could this man have passed through all the security to visit him in his solitary cell?

  “Are you real, or are you in my head?” Jeremy asked, his voice now wavering.

  “I’m as real as you’d like. You bumped into me that morning, did you not?”

  “Yeah?”

  “And here I am, standing right in front of you. So you tell me, am I real?”

  Jeremy’s breathing picked up until it was near hyperventilation. Am I fucking crazy? Am I seeing people?

  “You’re made up. You’re not real.”

  “Ah, I’m your imaginary friend? What an honor. I suppose I’ve been called worse, but for the most part when people see me they usually resist at first, then finally give in and leap for me. Another reason you’re special: you’ve no urge to do such a thing despite the thoughts you had in here earlier tonight.”

  Jeremy closed his eyes and tried to imagine the man away. He’s not real. You’re just having cabin fever and are seeing things. There really was a man in a suit that day at the office, and he’s just a leftover in your subconscious.

  “Jeremy, you’re going to do special things in the future. Keep your eye on the prize. Thirteen deaths is okay, but those are rookie numbers. I know you can do a lot better next time. Think it over, you’ll find your way.”

  Then the figure stepped out of sight. Jeremy jumped off his bed and ran to the bars, grasping one in each head as he pressed his face into the space between them, craning for a look in the direction the man had gone.

  A soft glow of light from a dormant computer screen was all he could see. No man, no suit. Nothing.

  Jeremy laid back down, after smashing his face between the cell bars and frantically looking left and right. He couldn’t remember what he’d been thinking about before the suited man showed up.

  He took himself back to that day outside the office. The man with the black-slicked hair had winked at him when they passed each other in the doorway at Open Hands. Jeremy’s duffel bag, slung over his shoulder, had brushed against the man’s leg. That man was the last person he saw before he entered the office floor and turned it into a massacre.

  Jeremy resisted sleep that night. He stared into the darkness of the ceiling, his mind unable to let go of that pale-skinned man. He played the wink over and over again until he eventually fell into a deep sleep.

  35

  Chapter 35

  Wednesday, November 15, 2017

  Day 18 of the trial

  A whole week of deliberations passed. After the first two days passed without him being called back to the courthouse, Jeremy started to think he just might be getting off on the insanity plea. The small glimmer of hope completely flipped his confidence.

  He still had an insane persona to maintain, and did so during the day when the cops were present. Even though the trial was technically over, he didn’t want word to slip that he was acting normal. For twenty months he had maintained his insane personality by remaining silent and acting in a daze. When the medication treatment began, it was much easier to fall into an actual daze. But when the lights went out at night, Jeremy danced in his cell, overtaken by bursts of energy that had built up all day.

  They can’t take music from you. Music lives in the mind. While he couldn’t remember every lyric to many of his favorite songs, he knew the beats, and that was enough for him to dance across the floor in a graceful motion he hadn’t felt in years. If he planned to escape from a mental institution, he’d need to be in shape, so he started doing push-ups and crunches after his nightly dance sessions. It became a ritual for him to go to bed each night in a sweat-soaked uniform. The dampness, while not comfortable, gave him a sense of accomplishment.

  His positivity snowballed with every hour that passed without a verdict being turned in. The visiting man felt like a distant memory. Of course Jeremy wouldn’t kill again, that wasn’t the point of all this. Still, he’d never forget the feeling of power when the bullets sprayed mercilessly across the office. All those terrified faces staring at him, all those screams pleading in the final moments of their lives.

  It did feel good, he reminisced. Just focus on getting out of here. Stay in shape, and be ready for what comes next. People escape prison all the time, it’s not impossible. It could be a clerical error that sets you free. Just stay ready.

  Jeremy had a meeting planned with Linda later that morning. She wanted to fill him in on the legal process, what to expect moving forward, and her thoughts on the long deliberation. He spent his morning eating his favorite meal during his time in jail, a bland bowl of oatmeal with sliced banana on top and a short glass of milk to wash it all down.

  When the officer came to take him to the visitor’s room, Jeremy had fallen asleep for a late-morning nap, and was barked at to get the fuck out of bed.

  When Jeremy arrived to the visitation room, Linda greeted him in her usual dress pants and blazer. “Good morning, Jeremy.”

  “Hello.” Back to being insane, stick to the plan.

  “How have you been the last week? Feels like forever since we’ve seen each other.”

  “I’m good. Just eating and sleeping.”

  “That’s good. I wanted to have a quick meeting with you today and fill you in on some things.”

  “Okay.”

  “I expect a verdict to be turned in before the weekend. If not, it will happen on Monday for sure, but I highly doubt the jurors want to drag this out over another weekend.”

  “What will they say?”

  Linda kept a serious face, but Jeremy could tell she was fighting off a grin. “Honestly, I have no idea, and that’s a good thing. Going in, I believed there were two possibilities for deliberations: a quick one figured out within a day, where the verdict comes back guilty; or one that would take maybe three days or so and still come back guilty. I won’t lie to you, this case was supposed to be near impossible to win. But here we are a week later, five full days of deliberation, and word is they still need some more time. That tells me they are having serious talks about your mental state and likely having debates on which way to go. That’s as good of a chance as we could hope for.”

  Jeremy fought off a grin of his own. “I see,” he said.

  “Remember, should you be found guilty, then we continue in the courtroom to the sentencing phase, where you would either be sentenced to life in prison or the death penalty. This phase could take just as long, since the death penalty requires a unanimous decision. All it takes is one person to be opposed and you would avoid death.”

  Life in prison is still death, might even be worse.

  “And if they find you innocent under the insanity plea, you would stay in this jail for another week or two while the court and mental hospital process loads of paperwork. The court will also decide the terms for your potential release from the hospital. They’ll be near-impossible to meet, but they will be put in place.”

  Jeremy nodded.

  “I’m still doing prep work, in case we go to the sentencing phase. Do you have any questions?”

  Jeremy shook his head.

  “Then I’ll plan on seeing you later this week,” she said.

  He thanked her and she stood and stepped away, motioning to the guard to come and take Jeremy back to his cell.

  Jeremy went back to his cell, wanting to dance and celebrate. Instead he had to settle for pacing in circles until his lunch arrived a few minutes later.

  I’m not going to prison. I can feel it. Fuck the system. I just might pull this whole thing off.

  36

  Chapter 36

  Friday, November 17, 2017

  Day 20 of the trial

  Jeremy only knew the day of the week because of his meeting with Linda on Wednes
day. When he had no appointments, the days were irrelevant. When he woke up Friday morning, he felt a stillness in the air that made him uneasy. The sounds of other inmates down the hall usually carried into his cell, but the jail was dead silent today. Daylight glowed from the hallway, and Jeremy figured the others had been granted outdoor time after the past week had been gloomy and snowy.

  He sat up and saw his breakfast tray waiting for him on the ground: a bowl of plain cereal with an apple on the side. A fly buzzed around the apple, dipping down for a quick bite every couple seconds.

  Jeremy stood from his cot and swayed on his feet as he did every morning. His thighs burned from the newly incorporated lunges he’d worked into his late-night exercise routine. Aside from that, he felt strong. He had never worked out regularly before coming to jail, but the free time allowed him to and the results were amazing as far as he was concerned. His once-flabby gut was now solid and his biceps started to bulge even when he was relaxed. He’d never been in a fistfight, but felt he could kick some ass if need be.

  The guards didn’t seem to notice or care. His jumpsuit was baggy and hid his progress. As far as they knew, he was a psychopath who stared at the wall all day.

  He ate his cereal, his fly friend keeping him company, when a guard approached the barred door.

  “Heston!” he barked. “You’re due in court this afternoon. Your verdict is in.”

  Jeremy dropped his spoon into the nearly empty bowl and his hands immediately started to tremble.

  “We’ll be taking you over in two hours.” The guard walked off, not interested in a response.

  Holy fuck. Today’s the day.

  Jeremy remembered the feeling he’d had in the days leading up to the shooting. The anticipation became unbearable that final week, as he could sense his world was about to change. Now that tickle of destiny crept back up. He had adjusted to life in jail, not liking it by any means, but able to accept it was his life for the near future. Now it would all change again. Death row or a mental institution would flip his life from what he had grown accustomed to.