His eyes went wide as he raised his right hand to the side of his face, touching the bottom of his ear as I continued.
“That, Sir, is not an idle threat. It is a promise. I’ll add it to the collection I already have. Make note that I do not like you or those like you. People like you make me feel sick, is that understood?” I said.
I sighed as I pulled my knife from the sheath.
I glared at him, wanting acknowledgement of my question.
“Nod your head,” I said.
It wasn’t my intention to try and intimidate him by how I acted, or how I appeared, only make him aware of his options. The more I looked at him, however, the more I grew to dislike him.
He nodded as I placed the knife on the counter beside the pistol.
“I’m sure you still have nightmares about our mutual friend visiting you and relieving you of a finger and a few teeth. Smile and hold up your hand,” I said as I lifted my chin slightly.
I had yet to see Ripp’s handiwork, and had only heard stories. Josh was obviously scared to death, but did his best to fight against the urge to cower and piss his pants as he forced himself to smile, revealing snow white teeth. As I admired his porcelain replacements, he held up his right hand, which was missing seventy-five percent of the index finger.
A small, almost unnoticeable stub remained.
As I studied his missing finger, I nodded my head. “That cleaned up quite nicely. And those teeth look remarkable. They’re nice, really nice. Well, for what it may be worth, Josh, I’m not at all a pleasant person.”
His eyes remained fixed on me, filled with uncertainty and fear.
I’m not like Ripp, “I continued. “You were given an opportunity by our mutual friend to keep your mouth shut. You made a poor decision, and chose to speak. I do not know, nor do I fucking care to know the circumstances surrounding your involvement with the authorities. I will say this. I hate most cops about as much as I hate you.”
As I pressed my palms against the edge of the countertop and flexed my biceps his eyes fell to my chest and quickly raised to meet mine as I began to speak again.
“Now, your testimony. You spoke to police, and I suspect you told them of the removal of your finger, the ass whipping, and the fact your teeth were knocked out. They now expect you to testify tomorrow regarding what happened and why. That, Sir, will not happen. I will not allow it. It will not. Do you understand me?” I asked.
He remained silent.
“Speak.”
“Yes, I understand,” he responded.
“Did you ever file a police report on your loss of teeth or finger?” I asked.
“Speak,” I said after a few seconds of silence.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Until this particular case, did you or have you ever discussed with authorities your loss of teeth or the finger?” I asked as I ran my finger down the edge of the knife.
“Speak.”
“No, not until now.”
I nodded my head as I studied the blade of the knife. “Alright. You will testify tomorrow. I will make clear what you will say. Phrase it how you prefer, but you will say this; you will state, when asked, that your association with Mr. Ripton is through your former girlfriend. You will further state that you chose to concoct an utter lie regarding the loss of your finger to attempt to get back at her, because she is friends with him. That, in effect, is all you will say.”
He stood and stared as if confused.
“Is that understood?” I asked as I rotated my wrist and twisted the blade of the knife back and forth.
He nodded his head.
“I need to hear it. Speak,” I sighed.
“Yes. Understood.”
The more I looked at him the more I wanted the world to be rid of him. My problem with eliminating him prematurely, as much as I wanted to, was that I historically gave everyone a chance to correct a mistake, my ex-wife included.
It was a weakness of mine.
I glared at him and continued. “You see. I find the entire process disappointing. You being smacked with a hammer and having a finger cut off has nothing to do with this case. Not one damned thing. One has nothing to do with the other. But, if the jury hears what you have to say, they’ll assume Ripp is a violent man and they’ll certainly side with the state. They’ll find him guilty. If you don’t testify, they may find him innocent. In all honesty, they should give him a good Samaritan medal for doing what he’s done. It irritates me to have to be here. People like you disgust me. You need to understand that.”
He nodded his head. At least he was willing to entertain me.
“Now. I will close with this. I like killing people. I really do. It’s the only fucking way I can make that God forsaken war make sense in my head. If I stop killing people, it means all the killing I did for years over there was wrong. And, killing people that wreak havoc on others must be God’s will for me, because the government paid me for over a decade to do it. I like to think it was justified, killing all of those people.” I paused and considered what I was saying. It seemed as I was speaking, I was not only convincing him of how I felt, but convincing myself.
I was raised to understand killing was wrong. After all, it was one of the Ten Commandments.
The Marines, at a time of war, took every adult male that was willing and capable and taught them how to kill. They didn’t teach Marines how to obtain a home loan or balance a checkbook. Upon my returning to the states, they didn’t encourage me to make any changes to my mental process regarding killing. They merely expected me to flip a switch and become human again. A lesson or class in how to un-do what they had spent so much time doing was necessary.
“You know, the only way I can convince myself it was justified, all of the killing, that is, is to continue killing people that take from society. You’re a taker. And I administer justice by attempting to balance the scales. I do, however, believe people can change. I hope you’re one of them. I’m assuming Ripp’s previous visit left a little doubt in your mind. I want to remove that doubt. I want clarity,” I said with a nod of my head.
I was convinced my speech was not only informative to him, but cleansing to me.
“Are we clear?” I asked as I looked up from the blade of the knife.
As he stood and silently stared, I felt as if I was playing Simon Says on the schoolyard as a child. “Jesus fucking Christ. Speak.”
“Yes, Sir. I understand.”
“Now, I will not be in court tomorrow. Would you like to know where I’ll be?” I asked as I picked up the pistol.
He shook his head.
“Humor me. Say you want to know,” I said with a laugh.
He swallowed heavily and stared.
“Speak,” I said.
“I want to know where you’ll be tomorrow,” he said, his voice quaking as he spoke.
“Josh, I’ll be where ever you go. But you won’t see me. You’ll never see me. If you testify as to any other facts than what we discussed here, I will find you. And, I can assure you of two things after I find you. One, I will torture you. And two, when I get bored with torturing you I will kill you. I will promise you those two things.”
I placed the pistol into the holster and nodded my head sharply.
“Oh, and one more thing,” I said as I slid the knife into the sheath.
His eyes widened as I watched his Adam’s apple raise and lower.
“Never, regardless of the circumstances, come in contact in any way with Kace again. Are we clear?” I asked as I stepped in his direction.
He nodded his head.
I tilted my head to the side and rolled my eyes. “Say it.”
“I, uhhm. Yeah. It’s crystal clear. Never again,” he responded.
I turned and walked toward the front door.
“I’ll let myself out,” I laughed as I walked to the door.
As I reached for the door handle, I looked over my shoulder toward the kitchen. Josh remained standing by the countertop,
staring down at his feet with his hands at his sides.
“You see, Josh, the entire world can be separated into two groups; those that give, and those that take. Those that give provide something to the rest of the people on the earth. Something useful.” I paused and opened the door partially.
“The takers? Well, their only concern is themselves. They take from society, providing little, if anything, to others. In the future, start asking yourself what you’ve done lately for society. For other people. If the answer is nothing, you’re doing something wrong.”
Ripp didn’t ask for my assistance, but he didn’t have to. I was able to help him out, and I did. It was the least I could do for a friend.
Hopefully my visit to Josh would persuade him to do what was right.
In doing so, maybe I could help save a life instead of taking one.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Summer 2014, Austin, Texas, USA
Disappointed I wasn’t there to witness it, Ripp was found not guilty. I was invited to a celebration dinner at his parent’s home, and I eagerly accepted. Upon arriving, I found his mother, father, two sisters, girlfriend, Shane Dekkar, Shane’s wife, Kace, and a friend from the gym, Austin, were all in attendance to celebrate.
I had heard the phrase everything is big in Texas many times. The table, the meal, and the crowd held true to the statement. The table had ten people seated at it and had room for four more. The home-cooked meal of chicken, countless side dishes, bread and iced tea was plentiful and reminded me of meals at home before my mother died.
Mr. Ripton turned toward me and lowered the fork that dangled from the tips of his fingers. “It’s a shame your friends couldn’t make it, Alec.”
My friends from Wichita had all come to Austin to support Ripp throughout the three-day trail, and watched intently as the procedure unfolded. Ripp’s parents were appreciative of the support, and expressed it throughout the trial.
“They just came down to support Mike, Sir. As soon as the trial was over, they had to get back to Kansas. As early as it ended, they were able to get back tonight,” I said, making certain to use the name Mike instead of Ripp.
I had been warned by Shane about Ripp’s parents, and their rules regarding the use of nicknames or cussing at the dinner table.
“I knew it was all over as soon as Vee said Boom! Too late, you made the wrong decision and blew on her finger. That sent chills down my spine. I like you, Vee,” Kace said.
Ripp’s girlfriend and attorney throughout the trial, Vee, chuckled. “Pretty dramatic, I know. And I like you too, Kace.”
The story I had heard regarding the end of the trial, was that Vee had provided an exceptional closing argument. In her close, she asked the jurors what they would have done if the man in question, the deceased, would have pulled a gun on them in a drunken stupor. As the jurors sat and shrugged their shoulders, trying to decide how they’d react, she shouted, “Boom! Too late. You made the wrong decision. You should have reacted differently.” Leaving them all sitting with open mouths, realizing during such a situation, the person on the receiving end of the gun has only seconds to react.
In the end, she made her point and won the case.
“Ma’am, the chicken is fantastic,” I said as I shifted my eyes toward Ripp’s mother.
Ripp’s younger sister, Katie, interrupted. “I cooked it, thank you. Have some more.”
She made eye contact as she lifted the platter of chicken and held it in the air. She was beautiful, blonde, and I would have guessed her age at mid-twenties.
I raised my hand and waved it toward the platter. “I want to make sure everyone gets enough. No, thank you.”
“No, really. There’s plenty, have some more,” she insisted.
I grinned and nodded my head. “Alright, just one more.”
Ripp’s father looked up from a chicken bone he was gnawing on. “Called Bug and told her the news. Told her to get to cookin’ ‘cause we was comin’ home. Glad that mess is over.”
“No nicknames at the table,” Ripp interrupted.
His father reached for his fork, pointed it at Ripp, and waved it as he made his point. “It ain’t a nickname, and you know it. We been callin’ her Bug since she was a baby. Katie Bug. It’s her god damned name, Mike.”
“No cussing at the dinner table,” Mrs. Ripton said without so much as looking up from her meal.
It was apparent she was used to the shenanigans of her son and husband.
“It ain’t her name, Pop. Her name’s Katie. It’s funny. If I say a nickname, you and Mom get all over me. But you guys say Bug all the time like it’s her name; and it ain’t her god damned name,” Ripp complained.
“No cussing at the dinner table, Michael,” his mother said.
Sitting at their dinner table was like being a part of a television sitcom. My eyes, for the entire meal, darted back and forth across the table, listening to the playful banter between Ripp and his father, often wondering just how much of it was intentional on Ripp’s part. His father wasn’t much better, constantly teasing and taunting Ripp.
“Her name’s Bug, and that’s the end of it. I ain’t got to be nice to you, Mike, the trial’s over,” his father said as he pulled the fork from his mouth and pointed it at Ripp.
Ripp finished his piece of chicken, licked his fingers, and glanced around the table.
“After we eat, Dekk, Shorty, Vee, A-Train, The Kid and I are going to go out for a drink,” he said.
His mother, without looking up from her plate, condemned Ripp for his use of nicknames. “No nicknames at the table, Michael.”
“I don’t like it when you call me Kid,” Austin said.
Ripp shifted his eyes toward Austin and glared. “Shut up, Austin. Feel lucky you’re even invited. You’re still proving your worth.”
Without looking up from her plate, Ripp’s mother once again chastised him. “Don’t say that word Michael, it’s a bad word.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he responded.
“I want to go,” Ripp’s sister said.
Mr. Ripton glanced up from his meal. “Go where?”
Katie turned toward Ripp and smiled. “I want to go with you guys tonight.”
“Bug, we’re going out drinking and acting like fools. It ain’t a place for you,” Ripp responded.
I shifted my eyes toward Katie. She was the sister who had been abused by the man Ripp later confronted – and subsequently killed – and although I didn’t know the extent of what was done to her, it was apparent the assault was nothing short of savage. As I sat and admired her beautiful looks and calm demeanor, I wondered what type of person would ever be able to do anything to such a woman, or any woman for that matter.
She shrugged her shoulders and widened her eyes. “Well, Vivian and Kace are going. So girls can go, and I want to go.”
Ripp shook his head. “Bug, you’re just a kid, you can’t…”
She shook her head and narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a kid. I’m old enough to drink. I’m four years younger than Kace, basically. So kiss my ass, Ripp. I want to go.”
“No cussing, Bug,” Ripp’s mother said flatly.
Katie glanced toward her mother, grinned, and as she shifted her eyes toward Ripp, locked her eyes on mine for a moment. I had been blankly staring, but not out of anything but slight admiration and wonder. I grinned as our eyes locked, and she quickly broke my gaze.
“Let her go, Ripp,” Austin said.
I wanted her to look at me again, and felt slightly guilty for desiring it so deeply. Her eyes were a translucent blue and not only complimented her well, but were rather difficult not to become fixated on.
“Bug, Austin, no nicknames at the table,” Mrs. Ripton said.
“Sorry, Ma’am,” Austin said apologetically as he turned to Mrs. Ripton. He turned toward Ripp’s father and nodded his head. “And, sorry, Sir.”
“Ain’t nobody asked your opinion Austin, shut up and eat,” Ripp complained.
Kace grinned an
d turned toward Ripp, undoubtedly recognizing his use of the word shut up. Shane, who hadn’t said a word all night, also shifted his eyes toward Ripp.
“Michael,” Kace said playfully.
“Michael, that’s enough,” Ripp’s mother said, reminding him of the bad word he had used.
I shifted my eyes from Ripp’s mother toward Ripp, and met Katie’s gaze half-way across the table, stopping me from looking any further.
Damn, your eyes are beautiful.
“So, you were a Marine?” she asked.
I had every intention of looking away when I responded, but failed to do so.
I nodded my head as my mouth went dry. “Once and always.”
She continued to stare into my eyes, all but hypnotizing me to return her stare. “What’s that mean?”
With my eyes still locked on her, I grinned at her curious nature. “Well, it means once you’re a Marine, you’ll always be a Marine. What is instilled into you lasts a lifetime. Once a Marine always a Marine.”
“He’s teaching me hand-to-hand combat and self-defense,” Austin said.
Katie broke my gaze, turned toward Austin, glared at him, and quickly shifted her eyes to meet mine.
“So, you were in the war?” she asked.
“Bug, don’t be rude,” I heard Ripp’s father say.
I turned toward Mr. Ripton. “It’s alright, Sir. No offense taken.”
“I was over there for roughly ten years, yes,” I said.
With her eyes still locked on mine, she blinked a few times. “Did you kill anyone?”
“Bug!” Ripp’s father complained.
His mother repeated the complaint. “Bug!”
“It’s quite alright, Ma’am,” I said as I nodded my head toward Mrs. Ripton. “And, Sir,” I said as I shifted my eyes toward Mr. Ripton.
“I’m not ashamed. Yes, I killed people. It was my job. In a perfect world, a Marine mission is complete without anyone dying. My battalion was reconnaissance, like Navy SEALS on land. We gathered intelligence through interrogation. In that war? Well, it was different. There was nothing to gather and no one wanted to talk. So, we killed most of the people we encountered before they killed us,” I explained.
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