Dark Star: Confessions of a Rock Idol

by Creston Mapes

  I was dying inside. I mean, really, my insides, my organs, felt like they were weakening—almost like they were becoming infected or shutting down.

  Karen was the one thing in this life I’d ever truly loved…my rose.

  The thought crossed my mind to just run. To try and sneak away, steal a car, find her… Ridiculous.

  The large clock on the wall read 3:42 p.m. The jury had been behind closed doors all day. Sandwiches were delivered to them at 1:30.

  This could last weeks.

  Various newspapers, pads, wrappers, folders, magazines, napkins, Bibles, coffee cups, and books were scattered across the top of our conference room table. We were all emotionally spent. Gray was asleep on the floor. Although I wasn’t allowed to leave the room, Jacob, Jerry, and Donald were constantly in and out, checking with police on what was going on with the search for Karen.

  I thought of the black man who stared at me so often throughout the trial. What did he see? What was he thinking? Perhaps he’d be the one juror who was vigilant for my acquittal. Or maybe he’d pound that last nail in my coffin.

  As I sat here, I passed the time by scribbling some new lyrics. Here’s a song called Release I envisioned doing as a rock number. I could hear the tune in my head…

  There’s a place I know oh so well, where I am in control.

  It’s a cozy place I never want to leave, but then You say, “LET’S GO!”

  Release yourself to the One in charge,

  Release yourself tonight.

  Release yourself, don’t look back,

  Everything’s gonna be all right!

  Do you know the place I’m talkin’ about, where you call all the shots?

  Well, it seems pretty good from where you sit, but from where He sits, it’s not!

  Release yourself, He’s waiting now,

  Release yourself today.

  Release yourself, He’ll carry you,

  Along life’s rugged way.

  There’ll come a day, there’ll come a time, when you got nowhere left to turn.

  You’ll be all tapped out, all used up, you’ll have nothin’ left to burn.

  Release yourself,

  Release yourself,

  He alone can set you free!

  Release yourself,

  Release yourself,

  You were blind, but now you see!

  35

  TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND PEOPLE WAVED their arms back and forth, singing along. Matches, lighters, and cell phones were lit like a zillion stars around the glowing arena. We did one final encore. They loved us. Fireworks exploded. The place went black. Roadies saw us offstage by flashlight.

  In the wings, Endora waited. She handed me a bottle of Jack Daniels, put a lit cigarette in my mouth, and we headed toward the dressing room.

  “They worship you, Everett,” she yelled, laughing. “You are their god.”

  My body jerked against the carpeted floor.

  I opened my eyes and wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth.

  Sarah lay on her side near me on the floor of the conference room. She saw me wake up and smiled softly. “Dreaming?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was Karen in it?”

  “No…I wish she had been. It was a bad dream.”

  “What about?”

  “The old days.”

  “Ah.”

  “Any word?”

  “No. Jacob and Jerry left for a few minutes. I don’t know what they’re doing.” She laughed. “Driving around, maybe. They were going stir-crazy.”

  “Tell me about it. What time is it?”

  “Almost seven-thirty,” Sarah said, still lying on the floor. “Boone thinks Sprockett will keep the jury here as long as they’ll stay without committing mutiny. They could go till eleven-thirty again.”

  She sat up, leaned against the wall, and motioned toward the table. “There’s a sandwich and chips for you. Gray had it brought in.”

  “Thanks, Sarah. Where’s Mary?”

  “Sleeping…over there.” She pointed to the other side of the long table.

  “I’m not asleep,” Mary said from across the room. “Just meditating… That’s what my dad always used to say. Remember, Everett? He would take these long, deep naps—snoring and all—and when someone asked him how he slept he would say, ‘Oh, I didn’t sleep…I was just meditating.’”

  We all cracked up.

  The hoagie tasted good. I’d barely eaten in days, just had no appetite.

  Jacob and Jerry barged in, followed by Donald.

  “A family spotted Zaney’s camper at a campground near the Everglades.” Jerry hugged Mary.

  Jacob approached Sarah. “No sign of Karen.”

  “The cops didn’t make it in time,” Chambers announced. “He was gone when they got there.”

  “Bender’s either got her in the back of that camper or…I just don’t know,” Jacob said, as Sarah hugged him and buried her face in his chest.

  “Well, it’s not going to last,” Jerry said. “This thing is all over the networks. The whole state of Florida is watching for them.”

  The door swung open again.

  It was Boone. His posture was straight as a board as he walked into the room, not making eye contact with anyone and taking an enormous breath. “Don’t mark my words, but I think we may have a verdict.” He crossed to the far side of the room, turned around, and focused on the door.

  “Already?” Sarah questioned.

  “Just wait a minute.” Boone nodded, watching the door.

  “What’s going on, Brian?” I asked.

  Voices…approaching the door. Closer…louder.

  The door crept open several inches, and a conversation could be heard. Someone stood just outside. The door opened about two feet, and we saw the gray-haired bailiff there, surrounded by loud noise and turmoil in the hallway. He talked with officers, answering questions and barking instructions.

  “Time-out!” he finally yelled to the people outside the door. “Time-out. I’ll be back with you in a minute.”

  He stepped inside our conference room and closed the door behind him. His white, bushy eyebrows raised above his thick glasses. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a verdict.”

  Once the bailiff explained what would happen next and cleared out, we quietly and nervously straightened each other’s collars and hair and ties. Then we stopped at the door just before leaving, and we prayed.

  Even though courtroom B-3 had no windows, it took on a whole new aura toward evening. Somehow the lighting seemed different, almost yellow.

  I couldn’t recall the courtroom ever being this packed. The usual press boundaries had all but disappeared beneath the sea of bodies, recorders, mikes, and equipment.

  Side by side, arm in arm, my “family” sat along the first row, just behind me: Jacob and Sarah, Jerry and Mary, Donald and Della, and Gray Harris.

  But someone was missing, and her absence burned at the base of my throat.

  Boone’s hand clasped mine tightly, and he looked up into my eyes. “Everett, I’m not much of a praying man, but I’ve been praying for this moment. Good luck.”

  “Thank you, Brian.” I squeezed tighter. “Thanks for everything.”

  Judge Sprockett glided into the courtroom, black robe wafting behind him.

  We were seated.

  Just a few formalities.

  Judge Sprockett called the bailiff.

  The somber gray-haired man approached the bench, handing the judge a white index card.

  The bailiff looked directly at me, his face stone-cold sober.

  After staring at the card for a good forty seconds, Judge Sprockett’s eyes rose above the card and zeroed in on our table, then shifted to Dooley, who was fixing the jagged white hankie in his left breast pocket.

  The judge’s head slowly turned to the jury box. As he eyed them good and long, his head nodded up and down several times, almost unnoticeably.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice echoed off the sile
nt walls, “a verdict has been reached in the case of The State of Florida v. Everett Timothy Lester. The verdict will now be read by the jury foreperson.”

  It was the calm before the storm, as the bailiff retrieved the index card from Judge Sprockett and walked it directly into the hands of…yes, the black man, the one on the far right. The only juror standing. His eyes were, once again, locked on mine like laser beams.

  He took the card from the bailiff and looked at Judge Sprockett.

  “Jury, what say you?”

  With a fist to his mouth, the black man nodded at the judge and cleared his throat. And then I saw it flash in the yellow light—the silver ring on his middle finger…and the black cross engraved in the top.

  “On the matter of The State of Florida v. Everett Timothy Lester, we the jury find the defendant, Everett Timothy Lester, not guilty on the charges of murder in the first degree.”

  My knees wobbled.

  My eyes felt like they rolled back up into my head.

  The gavel cracked.

  Rushing and shouting and chaos.

  Boone’s arms were wrapped tightly around my waist. The family engulfed us.

  And the tears came like rain.

  ***

  We were mobbed now.

  Reporters and camera crews rammed against us due to pressure from behind.

  Gray yelled that a car was waiting.

  I just wanted to get out…find Karen.

  Smiles and laughter and yells of congratulations surrounded us.

  We were on our way, pressing forward, moving the scores of people along with us.

  A hand tapped hard at my shoulder. I didn’t look back, but then the hand grabbed my shoulder, trying to pull me back.

  I turned.

  The jury foreperson was on his toes, four feet away, stretching his arm out to me, the silver cross ring near my face.

  He said something to me, maybe five words, but the noise drowned him out.

  Again he spoke, mouthing the words in hopes I could read his lips. But still I didn’t understand.

  I turned back toward the door and pressed forward.

  Have to get out.

  But the hand pulled my shoulder once more. And the jury foreperson muscled his way up against me.

  I squinted at him, not knowing what he wanted, not really caring.

  Then he hoisted himself up to my ear. “I saw Christ in you.”

  I pulled back and stared at him ever so briefly.

  Then I bent down to his ear. “Thank you.”

  “Go find Karen. Godspeed!”

  I squeezed his outstretched hand, and he fell away from the pack.

  A few feet farther and, finally, a burst of cool air, as we hit the exit and hurried down its white stone steps.

  I kept hearing the question, “Everett, how do you feel?” I tried to concentrate on forging ahead. “I just thank God.” I looked at the ground, trying to keep my feet moving toward the car. “Now, we’re going to find Karen and finish the rest of this story.”

  More questions pelted me from every direction.

  “That’s all.” I kept a hand on Mary and Sarah as we reached the white SUV.

  The sound of the crowd outside was muffled as we shut the doors. Everyone held on to whoever ended up next to them, and most of us had tears on our faces. We smiled and sniffled, but no one said much of anything.

  Cameras flashed like crazy outside, and the SUV rocked slightly to the sway of the mob. Then Gray eased away from the Miami-Dade Justice and Administration building. As we were able to accelerate more, it felt freeing to leave courtroom B-3 farther and farther behind.

  Gray glanced back at us. “I thought we’d go back to the house and plan our strategy from there.

  “Sounds good.” I nodded. “Thanks for the car, Gray.”

  Mary sat next to me in the middle seat, her arm locked in mine. She tried to say something, but instead, could only manage a smile, a shake of her head, and more tears.

  From the backseat, Sarah and Jacob reached forward, each with a hand on my shoulders.

  It was quiet for a long stretch. The streetlights zoomed past. The trial was behind us. Miles behind us now.

  I reached to the front seat and gently rested my hand on Boone’s shoulder. He looked back at all of us, with a big grin. “The prayer worked…apparently.”

  The glass exploded just to the right of my temple.

  Screams and cool air filled the car.

  In slow motion, I noticed the splintered window next to my head.

  “Get down!” Boone yelled.

  We all collapsed to the floor while Gray crouched at the wheel, raising a bent right arm to protect his head.

  “It’s a green pickup—a camper!” Boone shouted from low in the front.

  I lifted my head just enough to look in the lane to my right.

  Crack, crack, cr…cr…crack.

  Splinters of glass pelted us, as more of the windows on the right side of the SUV exploded and crumbled in our laps.

  “It’s him, Gray!” I ducked down again. “It’s Zaney.”

  Everyone was silent as the car rolled on. The girls weren’t screaming anymore.

  We wanted this monster.

  “Is Karen with him?” Gray crouched so low he was barely able to see over the dash.

  “She’s not in front,” I shouted.

  “Is anyone shot?” Jacob called out.

  A brief silence. We checked each other. “No,” I said. “No one’s hit. Just cuts from the glass.”

  “He’s dropped back,” Gray warned.

  “Someone call 911!” Sarah yelled.

  “I am.” Boone covered his free ear and pressed the cell phone to his head.

  “Here he comes again,” Gray said as the dark camper picked up speed on the right.

  I crouched low, hearing it coming, then peeked… His windows were down. A gun was in his right hand, at the top of the steering wheel.

  “Next time he shoots, jam on the brakes and get behind him!” I yelled over the wind.

  “I’ll try,” Gray mumbled, getting down low again.

  Now Zaney drove right alongside us. I stuck my hand up in the air to draw fire.

  The second Zaney peeled a shot, I slammed into the seat in front of me as Gray nailed the brakes, swerving right. Sarah squealed from the back as the SUV fought to stay on all fours.

  “We’re behind him.” Gray slapped the steering wheel.

  “Good! Follow close,” Jacob said. “Don’t let him get behind us. We’ll follow him as long as we have to.”

  “Did you get the cops, Brian?” I asked.

  “Got ’em. They’re coming.”

  “I’m calling Chambers.” I pulled my phone from my rear pocket. “Where are we?”

  “We got turned around leaving the courthouse,” Gray yelled.

  “We’re now southbound on Route 1,” Boone announced.

  As I spoke frantically to Chambers, I felt our car slowing, slowing.

  “He’s up to something,” Gray said, as I looked up to see Zaney’s brake lights.

  Gradually, the camper came to a dead stop, just off the side of the road.

  Gray cautiously pulled over to the berm but stayed some fifty feet back.

  “He’s getting out!” Sarah screamed. “Where are the police?”

  No one said anything as Zaney rocked out of the driver’s seat, squinted back at us, slammed his door, and sauntered our way. His long arms hung low at his sides. The gun seemed small in his large right hand.

  “Is she in back?” Jacob asked angrily.

  “What do we do?” Mary asked.

  The silence assured us there was no clear answer.

  “If he starts firing, I’m going to mow him down.” Gray stared straight ahead.

  “We need him alive,” I said.

  Zaney stopped just past the taillights of the camper. As if he were about to take target practice, he casually spread his legs at shoulder’s width, raised his arms in the air,
then lowered and locked them out in front of him with the gun at eye level—pointed directly at us.

  “Everybody down!” I commanded.

  “What do you want me to do?” Gray peeked his head up. “Get out of here?”

  I don’t know. I don’t know. We’re so close…

  Boom!

  The passenger side windshield blew out.

  “Ahh!” Boone covered his head as shards of glass rained down on his crumpled body.

  “I’m takin’ him out!” Gray sent the SUV in motion, its engine roaring to life.

  Zaney remained in firing position as we picked up speed, but who…

  “Stop!” Jacob yelled.

  There’s someone else…

  “It’s Chambers! Stop!” My body bashed into the seat in front of me again as our brakes locked up and the tires screeched, sending the SUV skidding to a halt.

  Ripping open the door handle, I rolled out of the car into the cinders and sprinted toward Zaney and Chambers. Jacob was running, too, and Jerry. Gray stayed back with the girls.

  There were sirens now…and blue lights in the sky.

  Chambers had Zaney in a headlock from behind, but Zaney lifted him off the ground, whipping him around like a mannequin.

  The gun was no longer in Zaney’s hand.

  Jacob had the door of the camper open and darted inside.

  I followed.

  “You ain’t gonna find nothin’,” Zaney moaned as Jacob and I scanned the filthy confine.

  I ripped out of the empty camper in time to see Zaney rear backward and plow Chambers into the back wall of the camper, dropping him to the asphalt.

  Screams arose from the SUV.

  Jerry lunged for the monster next, but Zaney bashed Jerry’s face onto his knee, causing him to crumble to the ground.

  Pain knifed through my knuckles and up my wrist as I jacked Zaney in the face, then in the stomach with my other fist. But it barely fazed the goon. He grabbed my arm and twisted it like a twig up behind my back and yanked my hair with his other hand.

  Boom, boom, boom.

  Jerry fired three shots into the air with Zaney’s gun, but it still didn’t deter him. Instead, he locked his free arm around my neck, practically lifting me off the ground with the arm that was behind me.