Hook, Line, and Homicide

by Mark Richard Zubro

  Turner yelled thanks, got back into his boat, and started out in pursuit. For twenty minutes he headed west. He realized the impossibility of his task. The Lake of the Woods was far too vast for him to be able to hope to search every inch of it. Undoubtedly, Kevin knew it better than he did.

  Then in the distance he spotted a pale speck caught in the last rays of the sun. It moved rapidly away from him. It was at least a chance. He took off in pursuit. In five minutes he realized the boat ahead was beginning to look bigger. For a few moments Turner thought this might be a hopeful sign. Minutes later, he realized there was no one sitting or standing up in the boat. When he got next to it and looked inside, it was empty. The sky was bright blue on the water. He noted ripples to his left. He turned his boat in that direction. He drove quickly. For a minute he thought he saw arms swimming, moving in the water. Then all movement stopped. Turner shut off the engine, threw out the anchor, and dove into the water. He reached the body in moments. He pulled the head out of the water. Kevin wasn’t breathing, but his body was still warm. He couldn’t have been in the water long.

  Paul struck out for the houseboat about thirty feet away. He grabbed the ladder on the side of the boat and switched Kevin into a fireman’s carry. He managed to clutch and climb and then gently place the boy on the deck.

  Turner’s CPR training kicked in automatically. Breathe into victim’s mouth, hold, breathe in. In half a minute Kevin choked, coughed up water. The teen’s body began to shake and shiver.

  Turner hurried into a bedroom and pulled a blanket off the bed. He hurried back. Kevin accepted the blanket and clutched it to himself.

  The teen was muttering, “I am so scared. I am so dead. I am so fucked. Why didn’t you let me die?”

  Paul knelt down next to him. He said, “You need to get out of those wet clothes.” The boy nodded. Turner found a pair of Brian’s jeans, a sweatshirt, and some socks. Kevin accepted them. The boy returned from the washroom in moments. He tossed his bundle of sodden clothes on the floor. The boy sat in a chair, looked up at Paul, out the window, down at the floor. Paul sat on the kitchen chair opposite him.

  “Why were you in the water?”

  Kevin spoke to the floor. “I was trying to kill myself. I was going to keep going farther and farther out into the lake. When I was a mile out, I changed my mind. I didn’t make it back.”

  “Why were you going to kill yourself?”

  “You know.” Kevin met his eyes. “You know.”

  “You killed Scarth Krohn.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “You know what he was like.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Since I was eleven I’ve had to—” The kid hesitated. He looked at Turner. The boy was pale and frightened. He continued to shiver. Turner was in the presence of a killer. He didn’t think he had to keep his guard up, but the boy had killed at least once. He’d tried to commit suicide. He could help prepare a moose or bear for being pulled into parts. The boy was used to violence. Was he used to murder?

  “Since I was six he made fun of me. He was always the one in the school who led the viciousness. The other kids knew I was different from before I knew I was different. Sissy, gay boy, fag boy, faggot, and a million names a million times a day. He was the first to call me names. Always the first. Always the loudest. Always the meanest. I told the teacher. I told the principal. I told my parents. I did what I was supposed to. I tried to ignore it. I tried to be bigger than the other kids. I tried to brush it off. I tried to ignore it and let it roll off my back. Does anyone actually think that helps with bullies? The adults did nothing. Nothing.” Kevin began to cry. Turner handed him a tissue. “Scarth Krohn never stopped. Never let up. Never let go. I learned my lesson. I stopped complaining. The adults didn’t care about a gay kid. Scarth was sacred around this town. The summer I turned ten, he made me blow him. He was four years older than I was. He was an athlete. He was so strong.” Unfettered tears escaped the boy’s eyes, but he continued on. “For all these years, he’s made me have sex. Sometimes he’d hit me. A couple times he pissed on me. As I got older, I tried to fight back. It was useless. This year on my seventeenth birthday, he fucked me for the first time. I tried to hide. Do you know how small this community is? And if I hid one day, he’d find me the next. He was so popular with everyone. Everyone wanted to be his friend, except me. I wanted him dead. Dead. I’m glad he’s dead. I’m glad I killed him. The torment is over. No matter what happens to me, the pain is going to be less.” He wiped at his eyes. “You know, he never used a condom. Never. I’m petrified to go to a doctor.”

  “Do you feel ill?”

  “No, but I think I should be checked just in case.”

  Turner understood the fears and terrors of being a gay kid. As a kid, Paul had managed to hide his sexuality, but the fear of discovery was real. He had no concept of what six years of incessant torture must have felt like.

  “What happened that night?”

  “He was drunk. Usually when he found me, he was drunk. I liked it better when he was sober. He’d come faster, and he wasn’t as mean. Drunk, sometimes he’d beat me senseless.”

  “But you’re a strong kid.”

  “He’s more than six inches taller, and he’s been an athlete all his life. I’m strong, but I learned long ago not to put up a fight. I would always lose, and he would always be more violent after I couldn’t fight back anymore.”

  “You couldn’t show a doctor the bruises?”

  “And admit I was gay or that I was getting fucked?”

  “Was Scarth the only one?”

  “What?”

  “Did he bring his buddies around to abuse you?”

  “Never for the sex. Just to be abusive. You must know what it was like to be picked on.”

  Turner nodded. He knew. Much as he had tried to hide his sexual orientation, he knew the pain of being picked on. Most gay kids did. He remembered the pain, the sharp memories coming back unbidden.

  “Do you have any proof that he did this?”

  “I kept a diary. On my computer. I’ll show it to you if you want.”

  “What happened the night of the murder?”

  “He was driving around town looking for me. I’d been out with Brian, who had lent me a sweatshirt and his T-shirt, the one with FRODO LIVES on the front. I was wearing them. I was heading back to the dock to give them back when Scarth drove up. I ran. He ran faster. He was so drunk. He’s so big. We were at the dock. He had me trapped. He was drunk. He was a mean drunk, but I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him drunker. I’d heard about the other guys who’d fallen in and drowned. Everybody had. I wished he’d fall in and die. At the end of the pier, I dodged and darted and tried to get around him.” By this point the kid was speaking through sobs. “He caught me and dragged me to the car. He took off my clothes and made me ride next to him naked. I was humiliated.” He rolled up his sleeves. “Why do you think I always wear long-sleeved shirts?” Scars of attempted suicide decorated both wrists. “I never had the nerve to make a deep enough cut. I dreamt of being brave enough to kill myself or kill him.”

  Paul had to ask. “How did Evon Gasple get involved that night?”

  Kevin hung his head. Paul saw tears, but this time there were no heart-wrenching sobs. Turner waited. He wanted all the truth. Kevin didn’t look up when he finally began to talk. “She pulled up next to us at an intersection while we were in town. She started screeching at him. They drove to the park and had this big fight. No one was around. He’d taken my clothes. I was going to run, but he could still catch me. He could run faster. I’d tried that before.”

  He hiccupped and gulped. Turner handed him another tissue. Kevin wiped his nose and continued. “She began screaming that he was a fag. That I was his fag boy. They were fighting, fists, kicking, everything. Finally he knocked her out. He dragged her to the backseat. We went to the boathouse at his father’s mansion. He picked one of the boats, threw her on the deck, grabbed me, and
started off.”

  “You still didn’t have your clothes?”

  “He gave me my jeans. That’s all. It was cool that night on the lake but not cold, but I shivered every second. On the way Scarth bragged that he was going to show me what a real man could do. We drove to that little cove. He dragged her out of the boat. I thought maybe she was dead already, but I did finally see her breathing. As we got there, she started to come around. When she came fully around, she went nuts. I’ve never heard anyone scream and carry on like she did. She kept making fun of him for wanting me along. She called him ‘fag’ over and over. I think they’d both done some drugs besides being drunk. He went nuts. She tried to run. He chased her into the woods. He dragged me behind. She probably would have gotten away, but she kept turning back to screech at him. He finally caught up to her. Maybe she let him catch up. I don’t know. He tried to have sex with her, but she didn’t like it that I was there. I tried to run while he was busy, but he grabbed me and knocked me silly. I couldn’t see straight.”

  Turner said, “Supposedly she’d had sex in public with others.”

  “She wasn’t in the mood that night. His pants and shorts were around his knees. He had his dick out, but he couldn’t stay hard. She added laughter to her screeches. Then she told him she’d seen the two of us one night when he was screwing me. She threatened to tell everyone. He went crazy. In seconds he bashed her, and she was on her knees. He tottered and weaved around a few seconds then went after her again. She stayed on her knees and refused to go down. One time I got up and tried to protect her. I tackled him around the legs. He rammed me into a tree. She’d managed to get to her feet and stagger toward the boat. All this time she kept screaming at him, taunting him, and laughing at him. He tackled her. Her head banged against a tree. I think he must have knocked her unconscious at that moment. I never heard a word from her after that. I don’t think he realized what was wrong with her because he was screaming and beating on her. She didn’t lift a hand to help herself. I got to my feet, but I was nearly unconscious myself. I thought I was next. Scarth was insane. He saw me getting up. He pulled up his pants. He chased me for a few paces. If I’d gotten a little bit more away, I’d have been able to lose him in the dark. I was thinking maybe Evon needed help. She sure wasn’t a friend of mine, but hey, she looked hurt. He caught me.”

  Kevin was crying again. “This time he did get it up. He fucked me and fucked me. I hated him.” He sobbed and sobbed. Finally, after a terrific snuffle, he wiped his tears with the back of his hands. “When he was done he yanked me to my feet. He went over to her and knelt down. I guess he shook her to wake her up, but she didn’t move. He swore at her. He looked more pissed than ever. Then he looked at me, and I got really scared. The lake is only about twenty yards north of there. He began dragging me toward it. I knew what he was going to try to do. He was having a hard time because of the booze and drugs, but I knew if I didn’t do something, I was going to die. I was a witness to what he’d done. I had to be gotten out of the way.”

  “Why not just beat you to death or hit you against a tree?”

  “He was shoving me, laughing, wrestling, trying to turn me around to hunch up against me, hitting, grabbing. We got to the water’s edge. I went nuts. I managed to break away. I’m a good swimmer. I thought maybe I could get away by swimming far out in the lake and coming up far from him. After a few strokes, he jumped in the water and caught me. We wrestled for a few minutes in the water. He was trying to hold my head down. I was lucky. I managed to get behind him and hold him under. I’m not sure he knew what was going on at first. He probably hadn’t drawn a large breath as he went in. He’d been laughing and snarling and swinging those big fists. I dunked him once, and he came up enraged. He screamed, ‘Die, faggot, die.’ If I didn’t do something, I knew I was going to die in the next few minutes. Over the years I’d gotten stronger. I dove down. He must have been exhaling when I managed to grab his feet from under him and tip him over. I held on to his ankles as if my life depended on it. I held him upside down by the ankles. He fought like mad, but he couldn’t grab me and my shoulders and my chest muscles are strong. I held him under. He didn’t thrash all that long. He was too drunk maybe to figure it out before it was too late. I don’t know how long it took. One instant he was struggling. The next he stopped. I watched him drift away. I felt free. For the first time since I was eleven, I was free. I killed him. I would do it again in a heartbeat. If he’d been sober, I’d be dead.” The boy’s tears and snuffling turned to sobs. The teenager’s frame was wracked with weeping. Paul sat next to him and gathered the boy in his arms. The kid’s tears and snot soaked through the shoulder of his flannel shirt. Paul patted the boy’s head. He held him until the emotional storm eased.

  “What did you do with the boat?” Turner asked.

  “I ran it into some rocks not too far from the shore near Kenora. I swam ashore. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t report Evon because I’d have had to admit that I’d killed Scarth.”

  “Did you go back for Evon that night?”

  “Yes. She may have been as rotten as Scarth, but I was worried about her. I couldn’t find her. It was dark. I tried going back the next day. Even for me the woods can be confusing at night. It would have taken search parties maybe weeks to find her.”

  Turner said, “The medical examiner told us that the best medicine in the world couldn’t have saved her.”

  “I hope that’s true,” Kevin said.

  Paul met Kevin’s eyes. He saw tears. Kevin said, “I’ve never been so confused. So frightened and so scared. I wanted to kill myself. I didn’t see any other option.”

  “Maybe I can help you find some options,” Paul said.

  Kevin looked at him and then hung his head. They were silent for several moments.

  Paul asked, “Were you dating my son?”

  “What?”

  “I saw you and Brian necking in the woods when he told me he was going to the movies.”

  “Brian is nice. He’s kind to me. He’s never violent. He would hold me and wouldn’t make demands on me. He was gentle. I don’t think he’s gay. He comforted me.”

  “Did you tell him about Scarth abusing you?”

  “No. I couldn’t. People didn’t bully me when Brian was around. Even Scarth wouldn’t come around when you guys were here. That’s why I was always hanging around. I liked helping you guys. I liked feeling safe.”

  “You could have checked on the Internet. There are groups who help. There are kids who have won cases against school administrators who did nothing.”

  “They’re far away and this is a small town.”

  Turner said, “Does Brian know you killed him?”

  “No. No one does. Just you. What’s going to happen to me? Are you going to turn me in?”

  “Right now, we’re going to get you someplace safe. Then I’m going to discuss options with you.”

  38

  Kevin gave him directions to the nearest marina. Even Kevin couldn’t find the way to Mrs. Talucci’s brothers at night. Paul called the number. An hour later the silver cigarette boat arrived with Phil at the helm.

  Before leaving the houseboat, Paul gave Kevin one of Brian’s letterman’s jackets for warmth. They climbed aboard. The teenager sat close to him as they drove but neither spoke. The full moon gleamed ahead of them as they started out.

  Paul was thinking. The boy had certainly acted in self-defense. He doubted if Schreppel would see it that way. The chief of police was a problem. Not turning the boy in was another. Paul had little doubt that in Chicago, he’d be forced to turn the teenager in. He was a cop. It was his job. He’d be betraying his profession and his principles if he didn’t turn him in. Here, now, in Canada, he had no standing, as he’d been reminded and warned about several times, by a rude, officious twit who seemed far more concerned with his own ego than with accomplishing the task at hand. It went against his grain not to turn a criminal in. He thought of discussing it with Fenwick
, but if he was going to condone a felony, the decision would be his. He didn’t think Fenwick would disagree, but Paul Turner was not about to make a decision for which he could go to jail and then involve a friend. Well, at least not his friend Fenwick. Not yet, anyway. He needed to make decisions first.

  Mrs. Talucci was another matter. She was someone he could discuss all the parameters with. He also had to decide what he would tell his sons. Neither boy was stupid. And if he was going to cover up the crime, was he going to simply let it continue to be unsolved and risk the local idiot sheriff wouldn’t figure it out, or that the moron would accuse someone innocent? Turner had to make sure the wrong person wouldn’t be convicted.

  Or would he take an active role in covering up who did it? If he were to do so, where was Kevin to go? How would the teenager deal with what he had done? He’d just attempted to commit suicide. That wasn’t the option Paul wanted, either. He wasn’t sure what would bring the boy back to health. Would Scarth Krohn’s father use his money to try to find his son’s killer?

  At some later point, Kevin said, “Brian and I never had unsafe sex. Mostly he was passive and gentle. He held me like you did. I felt so safe with him.”

  And what if the boy was lying about this? Or the murder? What if Brian had had some role in the murder? Had he helped? His teenager hadn’t been caught in a major deception until now. Having sex with someone instead of going to the movies, in the pantheon of evil, was pretty far down on the going-to-hell-for-that list.

  It wasn’t hard to believe the slight figure of Kevin had successfully held the much larger and stronger Scarth Krohn under. He’d seen Kevin lift heavy objects more easily than Brian could, and Brian was extremely strong. Still, two against one was even better. Paul Turner needed absolute forensic proof or reassurances or a video. Or something.

  As for the other question, did Brian need to be tested? Did other partners Brian had need to be tested? Had Brian had other partners male and/or female? How long had the two boys engaged in a sexual relationship? Paul didn’t really want to know. He wanted the answers about Brian to be that he was safe and healthy. He would need to have a discussion with his son.