Happy Fourth of July - 1. Happy Fourth of July

Part One - The Crime

Thursday, July 4, 2024

Simon Gallagher opened his email first thing, dreading, like always, another message from the binary killer. This guy seemed to know a lot, so he probably knew Gennaro was off today. Luckily, no emails announcing another murder were present. He continued reviewing the notes on the latest Breaking and Entering that occurred. The only thing stolen was a handgun, but the owners hadn't been able to be reached since the husband called 9-1-1 at the time of the break-in. There were no obvious indications in the house of foul play.

Four hours later, he stepped out for lunch. Upon his return, he once again checked his email.

"Oh, Fuck."

He immediately called Gennaro, "Gen, sorry to interrupt your holiday, but you need to check your email. We got another one."

"Damn it. Hang on a sec..."

Gennaro turned away from the phone, but Simon still heard him talking with his husband, Ted Gibson.

"Ted, you're probably going to have to take Russell to the fireworks alone tonight. We caught another one."

Ted replied, "Another email?"

"Yeah."

Ted explained, "He'll be upset you can't be there, but he understands what your job is."

"Simon, I'll check my email and head in as soon as I can."

"There's a timer on this one. He says we really do have a chance to save this one."

"Fuck. I'll be right there."

Simon read the email again. (1)

‘Dear Wise Detective Saggio, and his foreign helper, Simon,

You have won the prize of investigating the year’s third murder. Congratulations. You’ll find the victim in an outhouse. I won’t tell you where, so you’ll have to figure it out from this clue:

Jason Voorhees.

If you hurry, you may yet be able to save him. Really. The fuse should burn for four hours or so, before he explodes. I will light the fuse upon receiving a read receipt for this email.

OOII’

The email was timestamped 'Thursday, July 4, 2024, 10:59 AM'

It was 1:12 PM, so the fuse was lit about five minutes before, when he first opened the email. He checked his sent mail folder; the read receipt was sent at 1:06 PM. Simon wrote 'Zero hour: 1:06 PM' on his notepad.

'OK, I bet it’s another movie clue. Halloween? No, that was Matthew Myers, or something. Freddie Kroger was Elmo’s Nightmare, maybe. I hate horror movies. That’s probably why I don't know this one.'

Simon googled the name.

'Friday the Thirteenth. Didn't watch that one either. 1980, way before I was born in 1995.'

Simon read the description in IMDB.

'OK, it took place at a campground. That narrows it down an awful lot. It's got to be Pushaw Lake Campground; it's the only one in Orono. Interesting; not too far from where the Memorial Day murder happened.'

He phoned Gennaro, "Gen, go straight to Pushaw Lake Campground, that's got to be the place."

"Great. It'll only take me ten minutes to get there; I'm climbing into my car now."

Simon's next call was to the Bangor Bomb Squad which is located at Bangor International Airport. It was 1:17 PM.

"Explosive Ordnance Disposal unit, Sergeant Bauer speaking."

"Hello Sergeant Bauer. This is Detective Simon Gallagher of the Orono police department."

"Yes, detective. How can I help you?"

"We just received an email which referenced a fuse being lit. The obvious location is Pushaw Lake Campground. The bomb, or other incendiary device, is attached somehow to someone in an outhouse at a campground. That's the only campground in Orono."

"I'll gather up the team and head out. Is there any indication of a timer?"

"The author of the email stated he would light the fuse when he got a read receipt. That was sent at 1:06. He also claimed the fuse would burn for four hours."

"Thanks detective, we'll see you at the campground."

"Great. I'm sure we'll be there first; we'll attempt to get the location of all the outhouses there. Hopefully there aren't too many."

"Text me a more detailed location if you get one at 207-555-BOMB, 2662. That will go to the entire team."

"You got it."

Simon headed to the campground. Gennaro had already been at its office, working with the manager on a campground map, marking the locations of outhouses.

"None of them are still in use and should be locked. There are five that I'm aware of."

Tre Roberts marked their locations on a copy of the campground map.

Gennaro requested, "Mr. Roberts, my partner should be here in a few minutes, please give him a copy of the map. I'll let him know I'll work west to east, and he will work the other direction."

"Of course, Detective."

Gennaro left the office, heading for the western-most outhouse. Simon arrived seven minutes later. It was 1:33 PM. He immediately left for the eastern-most outhouse, map in hand but one key piece of information light. He met Gennaro midway between the second and third locations.

"Anything, Simon?"

"No. Those two were locked."

"Roberts said they were all locked."

"Shit!"

They ran back to east outhouse number two. Gennaro banged on the door. Nothing. They made their way back to the eastern-most one, which happened to be the furthest from the office and in an unused area of the campground. Gennaro banged again.

"Mmmmmm mmm," came from inside.

Simon texted the coordinates to the Bomb Squad.

"This is the police, we're here to help you. Is there a bomb attached to you?"

"Mmmmooo."

"No. Is there a fuse of some sort?"

"Mmmm-hmmm."

"Yes. Got it. The bomb squad should be here soon. We're guessing the fuse will reach its target around five PM. It's 1:50, we've got plenty of time. Try to stay calm."

"Mmmmm."

"I assume you're tied up?"

"Mmmm-hmmm."

Just then, they heard loud rustling through the trees. The bomb squad arrived moments later.

"Detective Gallagher?"

"That's me, but Detective Saggio here is the senior detective."

"OK. I'm Lieutenant Tyrell Parker, Explosive Ordnance Disposal unit. What can you tell me, Detective Saggio?"

"The victim is tied up and gagged in here, he was able to indicate there is indeed a fuse. That's really all we can determine at this point."

"OK. I'll have to ask you to step back, at least fifty feet. Until we know what we're dealing with, it needs to be only my people in the immediate area."

"Understood."

"And keep those people back as well."

Gennaro turned around. About a dozen people were gathered along the meager path leading to the outhouse.

He spoke loudly and clearly, "OK people, we need you all to move back and let these guys do their job. We don't need any of you getting hurt if something goes wrong."

The people moved back, Gennaro and Simon along with them. There were questions, but they refused to answer any. Cell phones were held up to capture the carnage, if it happened.

Sergeant Bauer began by drilling a hole in the door to the outhouse and feeding a small, but bright, LED light inside the outhouse. Next came the fiber-optic camera.

"Oh, geez."

"What is it, Sarge?"

"The fuse runs along the right wall of the privy, zig-zagging its way to a firework-type mortar. Apropos, since it's Independence Day. The mortar looks to be partially inserted into the man's anus. I think we can safely cut the lock and open the door."

From inside the privy, "Mmm-mm. Mmm-mm."

"No? Is there something else?"

"Mmm-hmm."

Bauer moved the camera around some more.

"I see it. LT, there's a secondary fuse on the floor. Looks like it's triggered to be lit if the door opens. Standard paper and gunpowder fuse, but it's short enough to not give us a lot of time to remove the door and extinguish it. Both fuses are encased in plastic tubing anyway, so using water or foam won't help."

"Can we safely drill a hole between the flame and mortar, and cut out a section of fuse?"

"Let me take a closer look at the pathway."

Bauer used the camera again, "Looks safe, but with the one fail-safe, I can't be sure there isn't something else."

The Lieutenant turned around, "How much time did you say we had?"

Simon answered, "The email said four hours from 1:06, so I'd say about two hours and forty minutes now."

"Can you get a better estimate by watching the fuse burn for a minute, Sarge?"

"Probably. It looks like the lengths are roughly four feet each. There are four lengths, plus maybe another three feet to the mortar, but that looks like a standard quick match. I think we can ignore the time it will take for that to burn. So, of the sixteen feet, almost two lengths, maybe seven and a half feet, is left.”

There was a tense wait while Sergeant Bauer watched the fuse progress.

“OK, I've watched it for three minutes, and I'd say it burned two inches, maybe 6 cm, which makes it a slow match at roughly 110-120 cm per hour. More like two hours to go at most."

"OK. It's 2:29 now. Our deadline is 4:20 people. Sarge, let's drill a hole a foot beyond the current burn point and try cutting out a section of the fuse."

"Roger that."

It took only around ten minutes for a two-inch section of the fuse to be removed. When the flame reached that point, it went out. Nothing else happened.

"OK. We can't go in through the door. Sarge, make a thorough examination of the opposite wall. I want to know if there's anything questionable there."

"Checking."

Three minutes later, "All clear LT."

Parker made a call over his radio, "Lieutenant Parker to dispatch."

"Go, Parker."

"We need a life flight chopper on standby as close as possible to the Pushaw Lake Campground, basket attached, we may need to lift a victim out of the woods."

"Roger. Please hold."

"10-4"

Two minutes later, "Lieutenant Parker, LF-2 has been dispatched, ETA to the campground, five minutes."

"Thanks. Can they center on my signal?"

"Yes, no problem there."

"10-4. Parker out."

"Peters, cut out that wall, three inches from the perimeter. I'm not taking any chances there's something we can't see in the corners."

Fifteen minutes later, after a very slow and careful cut, the left side wall of the privy was loose.

"Parker to dispatch."

"Go, Parker."

"Get the chopper two-hundred-fifty feet above my location."

"10-4... ETA one minute."

"I hear it. Have it ready to drop altitude and lower the basket immediately on my command."

"10-4... LF-2 is patched directly through to you, transmit the go when ready."

"Roger that."

Turning to Peters, the LT gave the command, "Slowly move it away."

Peters moved it one inch, so far, so good. He slowly moved it a foot away. No explosion. He dropped the wall on the ground away from the privy.

"OK, let's get him out of there. We've got you now, sir."

Just as the victim was lifted, a spark appeared near his left leg, igniting the mortar fuse less than two inches away from the mortar. A second later there was an explosion that launched the victim and the two EOD officers out of the privy. Obviously, the victim screamed. The EOD officers were better protected and suffered no injuries.

One of the onlookers had a direct line of sight to the victim, his cell phone recording, "Holy Hannah, did you see that?"

Saggio thought he saw something too, "Replay that, please, sir."

"Sure thing."

At the same time this was occurring, Parker shouted into his radio, "Bring the basket down! Now!"

The chopper lowered to fifty feet, about twenty-five feet above the treetops, and lowered the basket. Once it reached the ground, he ordered again, "Get him in there and secured."

That took fifteen seconds.

"Take it up!"

"10-4, raising basket."

It seemed to take an eternity. While the basket was rising, Parker informed the Life Flight crew, "Be aware the victim had a mortar-type firework explode in or very close to the anus. Be prepared for third-degree burns and internal damage."

"Roger that. LF-2 out."

The basket was pulled into the chopper, and it departed.

Saggio and Gallagher reviewed the recording.

"Holy fuck. The same puff of smoke."

"Simon, there may be kids nearby."

"Sorry, boss."

Fortunately, no children were close enough to see the explosion, but there were at least five camera views of it. Saggio handed out his card to the people he saw who recorded the explosion.

"I need you to send me that video, to the cell number there. Anybody else who has any part before and leading up to the explosion?"

Two more people asked for his card. Moments later, he had seven views of the incident, and the cell phone numbers of seven witnesses. He and Simon took names, addresses, and contact information from all eleven witnesses present.

Saggio called back to his base, "D-1 to dispatch."

"Go, D-1."

"Need crime scene to my location at Pushaw Lake Campground. Advise contacting me when they arrive."

"10-4, D-1."

"D-1 out."

"Not sure what your crime scene folks will be able to find, Detective, but my team will assist them in gathering whatever data may still be available.

"Thanks, Lieutenant Parker. OK people, show's over, get back to your campsites and let us work the scene."

One young man, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, remained behind.

"Detective?"

Saggio responded, "Yes, son?"

"Is it OK if I watch from a distance? I'm starting college next month as a criminology major."

"Yes, just remain far enough back and do not interfere with the officers."

"I'll do that. Is it OK if I record when CSI gets here?"

Saggio considered the request for a moment, and when he couldn't find a reason to say no, "Yes, again, stay far enough back to be out of the way or we'll have to ask you to leave." He handed the young man his card, "I'll need you to forward whatever you record."

"I will. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

They already had his name and contact info from the earlier canvass. Requesting the witnesses send him their videos proved to be moot. Within ten minutes, all seven were available on TikTok, and one of several other sites. Two hours later, an edited video of the crime scene team's efforts was posted as well. The high school student posted that one on reddit. Due to its graphic nature, YouTube probably would have blocked it.

The crime scene officers arrived and processed the scene. About ten feet behind the outhouse, they found what were apparently the victim's clothes. Everything useful was bagged up as evidence, and the detectives left to let CS do their job.

***************************************************

Back at the station, Detective Saggio was looking through the victim's wallet, "Simon, does this address sound familiar to you?"

He recited the address.

"Yeah, that's where that B&E happened Tuesday."

Simon was reviewing other evidence found with the victim's clothes.

"We may have caught our first break, Gen."

"How's that, Simon?"

"There was a parking ticket in the vic's pants pocket. Pickering Square Parking Garage. From last night."

"What times?"

"Entered at 5:56 PM, left at 7:04 PM."

"Sounds like a dinner visit. I'll see if I can get video from the garage. Start with M Thai, then check Sea Dog. Those are the closest restaurants to that garage."

"Roger that."

They went their separate ways to see what they could discover.

At the parking garage, the attendant on-site was a little hesitant to allow Detective Saggio to review the recordings but finally relented once threatened with an arrest for obstructing justice. Saggio reviewed the footage. He caught another break, only two vehicles entered between 5:54 and 5:58 yesterday. Only one left at 7:04.

Handing the attendant a flash drive, "Can you copy these two clips to this?"

"Sure thing, Detective." The attendant put them on the flash drive Detective Saggio provided.

Saggio sent Simon a text:

'Only one car matched the times on the parking ticket. It's definite the driver wasn't Devante Young. Devante is a Negro. The driver is Caucasian.'

'Great. Two customers at M Thai got their check within ten minutes of the parking ticket departure time. Three more in that same time-frame at Sea Dog Brewery.'

'Not too bad. I'll drop these videos off with the tech folks, try to get a clearer picture. Then we can show it to the folks at the restaurants. Let's call it a day. I can still make it home in time to go with Ted and Russell to the fireworks in Cascade Park.'

'Have a good night, Gen. I'm just going to go home and become friendly with a couple bottles of Sam Adams.'

'Good night.'

Part Two - The Early Investigations

Friday

There was a pile of 8x10 copies of the photos taken from the parking garage video on Gennaro's desk when he walked in. There were two copies of one that gave a clear picture of the driver. Two more showed the car entering. The last two showed the car exiting. Simon arrived shortly thereafter.

"How were the fireworks, Gen?"

"Good. Even at almost eleven, Russell was still pretty impressed."

"Cool. Something's been bugging me since last night, when you mentioned the driver was white. If the driver wasn't Devante, why would the ticket be in his pocket?"

"That's a real good question. I think we need to see if Devante can have visitors."

Gennaro called the Life Flight office to find out where Devante Young was taken. He snapped a few photos of the pants in question, including the size tag, and they headed to St. Joseph Hospital. They still hadn't taken a look at the crime scene report, or video.

Devante was conscious, but still in a lot of pain. He'd had one surgery already and was scheduled for another on Monday.

"Good morning, Mr. Young. We're Detectives Saggio and Gallagher. How are you doing after your ordeal?"

"As well as can be expected, I guess. You were there yesterday when I literally got my ass blown up, right?"

Simon answered, "Yes, we were."

Gennaro took command, "Are you up to talking? I have some photos to show you."

"Sure."

Gennaro showed him the driver's photo from the parking garage.

"That's the mother fucker who broke into my house on Tuesday night."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Alright. These next few are from a pair of pants at the scene that had a parking ticket in them. We're wondering how the parking ticket got into your pants."

Devante reviewed the photos, "Those ain't my pants."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. All of mine are 35-35. 32-38's would be too tight and too long. Plus, I don't own a pair of khaki Docker's."

"OK. Hmm, so these would have to be the perpetrator's, but how did you get them?"

"Beats me. Maybe the shithead spilled something on his."

A supposition that ended up being not very far from the truth, if you moved a few words around.

"Maybe. There are traces of gunpowder on these."

"OK. Thanks, Mr. Young."

They turned to leave.

"What about my wife?"

"Your wife?"

"Yeah. She got taken out of the house right before he knocked me out with something."

"We'll have to look into that. Obviously, you couldn't have reported her as missing. We'll be in touch. Feel better."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll try."

On their way out to Simon's car, they discussed a plan of attack.

"Simon, why don't you take the perp's photos back to the restaurants? See if anybody recognizes him from Wednesday night. If someone does, check the credit card receipts. Drop me back off at the station and I'll go over the crime scene report. I hadn't gotten to that yet."

"Will do."

Back at the station again, Gennaro leafed through the crime scene report.

"Holy fuck!"

He made a call.

"Penobscot County Morgue, Jada Kaiser speaking."

"Hi Jada, this is Detective Gennaro Saggio in Orono, is Gavin available?"

"He should be, let me transfer you."

"Hello, Gavin Ramirez speaking."

"Hi Gavin, Gennaro Saggio in Orono."

"Hi Gen. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if the autopsy was done on the Jane Doe from Pushaw Lake Campground last night?"

"Nothing more than the preliminary once over they all get when they arrive."

"Anything interesting?"

"If you want to call a bullet hole in the back of her head, interesting, yeah."

"Any ID?"

"Yeah, let me check... Driver's license, Charlotte Young."

Gavin also recited the address. It was the same as the B&E and Devante's.

Gennaro dove into the crime scene report again. Simon returned shortly thereafter.

"Anything good, Gen?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Perp was at the Sea Dog Brewery at that time. Good news is a waitress recognized him. He left a fifty-dollar bill for a thirty-eight-dollar meal. Bad news is he paid cash, and it cost me fifty bucks to get the bill."

"Put in a voucher to petty cash. We need to get that fifty printed."

"Already dropped off. I also got these screen captures from the restaurant's camera. Our perp leaving at three minutes to seven. What about you?"

Simon dropped two photos on Gennaro's desk.

"Devante recognized the perp as the one that broke in Tuesday night, and said the pants weren't his."

"I'm sensing there's more."

"Yeah, Devante wasn't the only person in the outhouse. They fished his wife's dead body out. Gavin said there was a gunshot wound to the back of her head."

"So, Puff, the magic smoke man has another murder under his belt."

Part Three - Preparation of the Crime

Wednesday, July 3

After eating lunch, Brad Parsons checked the video of his kidnap victims for what must have been the tenth time since he woke up that morning. Both still secure, both still heavily sedated. It was time to take the next step in his plan.

He unlocked the door to Charlotte Young’s temporary prison, a soundproofed room in his basement. Wearing gloves, he placed a bag over her head, taped it securely around her neck, and shot her in the back of the head. Any blood that flowed, stayed in the plastic bag.

“Sorry Charlotte, collateral damage. I hope you’ll understand.”

‘When they find the gun, maybe they’ll think old Devante killed his wife.’

He prepped the outhouse a little later that day, then stopped for dinner at the Sea Dog Brewery. At eleven-forty PM, he loaded Charlotte’s body into the trunk of Devante’s car. Devante was placed in the passenger seat and secured with the safety belt. Devante’s gun was placed in the center console. He then drove to the campground. He entered using a little-known dirt road on the eastern edge of the campground.

He unlocked the outhouse, which he found absurd. ‘Why would anybody need to lock an unused outhouse?’ He had previously cut the original lock off and replaced it with one of his own. His lock had a purpose. He went back to the car to get Charlotte.

He carried Charlotte to the outhouse, and holding her head above the hole, removed the bag, and dropped her in. The bag went into a trash bag with other items he’d used, for later incineration.

Once again, back to the car to get Devante. After he stripped Devante, when he sat Devante on the outhouse’s seat, he noticed a splash of a brown substance on his own pants. Into the pile of clothes, they went. He then put Devante’s pants on. They weren’t a perfect fit, but they would do until he got home. He put the rest of Devante’s clothes, and his pants, about four paces behind the outhouse. He loosely tied up Devante, even though he knew it was unnecessary. He’d have control of Devante’s body for the last three and a half hours or so of Devante’s life. Devante himself should be unconscious until close to the end.

He drove back to Devante's house, walked home, and went to bed. Carrying Devante and Charlotte weakened him severely. Sleep came quickly.

Thursday, July 4

Brad woke up early, a little after 6:30. He needed to get to the outhouse first thing and give Devante another dose of Phenobarbital, which he had stolen from the ER at work. It was a great benefit to a serial killer, having access to a strong sedative. As an ER nurse, he was able to handle the medications and syringes. Walking out with a couple bottles and a few syringes was a piece of cake.

After giving Devante another dose of the sedative, he went home and checked the camera he had that was pointed at the Police Station's front door. He watched the recording of Gallagher entering the station, but did not see Saggio. He knew he would need to send both of them the email.

Next, he walked to the library near his house to fashion and send the murder email again. It was his third killing, so he signed it 'OOII.' He thought that was clever and would confuse the police, wondering what the hell ooii meant. He walked back home, ensured the camera facing his bed was functioning properly, and laid down. This, he believed would set up an alibi he didn't think he'd need, but he wanted to be careful. He'd have an unedited, timestamped recording of him sleeping during the time leading up to the execution.

It took a massive amount of concentration and energy to utilize his skill of astral projection. Not having control of his body, he needed to ensure it was safe. He opened his laptop and loaded his email program, setting it up to read out loud any email received from the Orono Police Department. While he couldn't control his body when he was 'out visiting' as he liked to call it, he could hear what was going on near it. He needed to be aware of the read receipt to know when to light the fuse. It would be clearly heard by his projection in the outhouse.

He laid down on his bed, focused on the outhouse, and left his body. A few minutes later, he was inside and in control of Devante's body. He sat quietly, waiting to hear the notification that his email was read by either Gallagher or Saggio. At 1:07:00 PM, his laptop queried the email server, received and read the indication that Detective Gallagher read the email.

He stood up in Devante's body, used the matches he'd left on the outhouse bench to light the fuse, and dropped the rest of the matches into the hole. He yanked the ties around Devante's hands with his teeth to tighten them. He would sit and meditate until the police either safely rescued Devante, not good for him; or screwed up and allowed the mortar he placed at the entrance to Devante's ass to explode.

After one of the three fuses ended up lighting the mortar's fuse, he would vacate Devante's body a second or two before the explosion. By that time, Devante's sedative would have worn off, but he would be unable to control his body. At the peak moment of fear, Brad would obtain the energy he needed to survive longer. Hopefully it would last a few months like the first life he sacrificed in Orono in order to survive.

Daniel Walker evidentially wasn't as afraid to die as was Nestor Medina. Jonathan's final burst of energy didn't give him the strength he needed to last more than six weeks. He could no longer wait for a criminal to 'become available.' What better victim to choose than an annoying nigger neighbor from down the street?

Brad's only physical weak spot was the puff of smoke that was emitted when he hurriedly left his victims. It was a clue to what was occurring, even though it would never be understood by the police.

Part Four - Waiting For the Police

We'll remain in Brad's subconscious for this segment of the story.

Brad felt the only weakness in his plan this time was not having a patsy the cops could assume to be the murderer. Unfortunately, that was a risk he had to take. His time was running out. He didn't know what would happen to him if his life force was depleted completely, but he wasn't about to tempt fate and find out. He knew if his host died, he would exit, revert to his natural form, and be stranded wherever that may be. That could raise too many questions and waste his escape from his home planet. He could not migrate fully to a new host without finding and being close to an acceptable target.

He liked Earth and wanted to stay. Mostly because the human race was highly manipulable. Damn it, he was actually having fun. That was a concept foreign to him before he arrived. He had yet to discover a species here that he would be able to control to repair his vehicle. As Brad Parsons he would have to remain. Incarceration would not present a problem; he could easily take over a guard's body to unlock his cell. But then he would be on the run. That was the whole reason he had to leave Baluside. Fucking immature Balusians, ratting him out for taking over a child's body. Who knew that carried a death sentence?

'Finally! The police are here. The lock on the door rattled, but the officer or whomever was gone before I became completely aware and was able to make a noise. Well, Devante will awake before the flame reaches its destination. I'll still get the benefit of Devante's final burst of energy from his fear.'

A little while later, I was shocked out of my meditation by another bang on the door. The time had come. I made myself, or rather, Devante, known by mumbling through the gag I had placed in his mouth. Maybe not the smartest idea in hindsight. But I was able to be understood. The outhouse was soon surrounded by countless cops. I looked to my left; they were here too soon; there was way too much fuse left.

I saw the hole being drilled in the door. Damn it! Then, after a short while, they discovered the floor fuse. How the fuck did Devante answer them that there was something else? He should still be completely passive. Ramp up the concentration, Brad! There. He shouldn't be able to react now until I vacate just before the mortar explodes his ass.

Another hole? Next to the fuse. What are they doing? Cutting it. Thank goodness for the second fail-safe, no way they'll discover that as long as I keep Devante's legs together. What now? Sawing on the other wall? Good, they'll open the wall up, try to yank Devante out, and that will light the final fuse. There goes the wall. They're reaching for Devante. Ass lifted, final fuse lit, Adios Devante! I'm out of here in a puff of smoke!

I wake up in my bedroom, camera still recording. Got away with another one!

Part Five - The Aftermath

"So, Puff, the magic smoke man has another murder under his belt."

"Funny way to put it, Simon, but accurate I suppose. Let's run the garage photo through the photo comparison program, maybe we'll get a hit."

"You got it, Gen."

Simon scanned the photo and pasted the copy into the search box, "Just have to wait now."

"Yeah, let's hope this guy's name isn't Zyzydnyk."

Forty-two minutes later, Simon's laptop beeped, "We have a match. Bradley Parsons. Lives right around the corner. 21 Forest Avenue."

"I guess we can take a walk."

A few minutes later, Gennaro rang Brad Parsons' doorbell. Brad had seen them leave the police station on foot. He initially assumed they were heading out to lunch. Both Pat's Pizza and the Family Dog were within walking distance. He looked out through the peephole.

'Take a deep breath, Brad. You got this.'

Brad opened the door, "Yes, can I help you?"

"I'm Detective Saggio, this is Detective Gallagher, can we come in and talk to you for a minute?"

"Um, sure. I'll be getting ready to go to work soon, hopefully, this won't take long."

"Just a couple questions."

"OK, come on in. I don't have any coffee made, but I can offer you a soda."

"That won't be necessary."

"OK. How can I help you?"

"I have a few photos I'd like to show you."

"Um, OK. What's this about?"

"There was a robbery last night at the Sea Dog Brewery. We're just asking people who were there what, if anything, they saw."

"OK, how did..."

Gennaro held out the photo from the garage, "Is this you?"

"Um, yeah. It looks to be."

"This was taken from video footage at the Pickering Square Parking Garage, yesterday evening."

"OK, yeah, I had dinner at the Sea Dog last night."

"And you left around seven PM?"

"I, I guess so."

Showing the photo from the restaurant, "This was taken from the Sea Dog's door camera. Also, you?"

"Not my best photo, but yeah."

"On your way back to the parking garage, did you happen to notice anyone walking toward the restaurant, maybe acting suspiciously?"

"Um, no. Can't say that I remember anyone like that, no."

"This photo was taken from another video at the garage at 7:04. This is your car leaving, correct?"

"Yes."

Brad was caught in his first lie. It was Devante's car that he drove to the restaurant.

"Nothing suspicious in the garage either?"

"Nope. Not that I can think of."

"Alright, well, here's my card. If you do remember something, would you give me a call?"

"Yes, Detective... Saggio."

"Thanks. We can see ourselves out. Feel free to continue getting ready for work. Where do you work, by the way?"

"I'm an ER nurse at St. Joseph."

"Very nice. Helping people, a commendable career. Thanks again."

"I don't think I helped at all, but you're welcome."

Saggio and Gallagher left. Brad had to wonder if there really was a robbery at the Sea Dog yesterday. He felt they couldn't be on to him any way for the Youngs.

Around the corner, Simon mentioned something he noticed about Parsons, "Did you see the pants, tan Docker's?"

"Yeah. The ones at the crime scene were almost definitely his. He's an ER nurse. We'll need to get a blood sample from both Devante and a tox screen from Charlotte's autopsy. He likely knocked them out with something when he took them from their home. We'll split up after we get back to the station. You head to the hospital and get Devante's permission and get a blood sample, and I'll hit the morgue, to make sure they order a tox screen on Charlotte's body."

Simon pointed out the lie, "And he obviously lied about it being his car at the parking garage."

"Well, I wasn't' expecting him to say, 'No, it's the guy's who I kidnapped and tried to kill.'"

"True. Thanks for sparing me the morgue."

"Yeah, I haven't seen Gavin in a while; old friends, you know."

"Got it."

They each got into their cars. Simon had no problem with getting a blood sample taken from Devante. He requested they test for any type of sedative. Unfortunately, recently having surgery, he would still have some in his system. When they discovered Phenobarbital, which wasn't used in the surgery, it raised some eyebrows.

Gavin was about to start Charlotte's autopsy when Gennaro arrived.

"A sedative? Sure, a tox screen would catch that. Anything in particular? There are dozens."

"Something an ER nurse would have access to."

"OK, that will narrow it down. St. Joseph?"

"Yes."

"I can find out what they use in the ER. If I know what to look for, I can add it to the tox request."

"Awesome, Gavin. Let me know as soon as you have anything."

Gennaro's phone rang, "Hang on, this is my partner... Hi Simon, what's up?"

"Got a quick response from Devante's blood test. When they knew what to look for, it was easy. Phenobarbital was in his system. It wasn't used during his surgery."

"Could he possibly have gotten it in the ER?"

"I thought about that, nope. He went directly from Life Flight to an O-R."

"Great. I'll pass that on to Gavin."

Gavin looked at Gennaro questioningly.

"Mr. Young had Phenobarbital in his system and shouldn't have."

"Great. Looking for something specific can be run right away at toxicology. I'll put a rush on the order since this was obviously a murder."

"I'd appreciate that, Gavin. You and Autumn need to go out with Ted and me again. It's been too long."

"True. How's the foster son doing?"

"Russell is doing pretty well. As you know, being one of the three to shoot and kill his father, I kind of felt more than responsible for him."

"Maybe we'll do something he and Craig can come along for."

"How old is Craig now?"

"Twelve going on eighteen."

"I hear that. Russell's almost eleven. Yeah, we'll do that. As soon as I wrap up this case, I'll give you a call."

"I'll let you know about the Phenobarbital, as soon as I know."

"Thanks."

A week later, the early toxicology report was in. Charlotte had Phenobarbital in her system as well.

Friday, July 12

“Simon, Charlotte Young’s tox screen was positive for Phenobarbital. I think we have enough for a search warrant for Parsons's house.”

“You think he’s dumb enough to keep some there?”

“You never know. I’ll call Judge Schreiber; he should be lenient enough to sign it.”

“We need DNA from Parsons too, there was sweat and feces on the pants, hopefully one of them is his. That will link him to the crime scene.”

“Good thinking. With any luck we’ll find foreign DNA in the house belonging to the Youngs. That’ll make it a slam dunk.”

Saturday, July 13

Search warrant in hand, Saggio and Gallagher rang Parsons's doorbell once again.

“Detectives? What can I do for you?”

“Bradley Parsons, you’re under arrest for the murder of Charlotte Young, and the attempted murder of Devante Young.”

Detective Saggio continued reading Parsons his Miranda rights. Parsons wisely chose to remain silent.

The search uncovered four key pieces of evidence:

1. Two bottles of Phenobarbital were found in a nightstand in his bedroom. One was more than half empty.

2. An open pack of syringes with quite a few missing was also found in the nightstand.

3. In a soundproofed room in the basement, a few flakes of what looked like a plastic bag with blood on them were found.

4. In that same room, a .38 caliber shell casing was found. Fingerprints on the casing belonged to Devante Young.

An expedited DNA test was run on the blood-spattered plastic. It was consistent with Charlotte’s DNA. When a later, complete comparison was made, an exact match was determined.

The bullet in Charlotte’s head matched the casing found in the basement room. After the gun was found in Devante’s car, it was proven to be the murder weapon.

A partial print matching Brad Parsons's left pinky was found on the steering wheel of Devante's car. Brad never noticed the tear in the latex glove.

The sweat droplets on the khaki Docker's matched Parsons. The feces matched a sample taken from Charlotte's body.

Parsons was placed in custody in the Penobscot County Jail, in Bangor. Due to severe overcrowding, Parsons was placed in a cell with two other prisoners. It was impossible for him to control a guard to unlock the cell door with two witnesses, criminals though they were.

Part Six - The Trial

It was a cold morning on Monday, January 27th when the trial began.

“Penobscot County Superior Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Victor Y. Tennyson presiding. All rise."

The judge entered and sat down.

“Be seated... Mr. Patrick, are you ready with your opening statement?"

District Attorney Johnson Patrick replied, “I am, Your Honor.”

“Please begin.”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the defendant, Bradley Parsons, has been charged with breaking and entering, simple assault, two counts of kidnapping, two counts of wrongful imprisonment, attempted murder, and first-degree murder. The prosecution will present evidence that will prove, without a doubt, that Mr. Parsons planned and carried out each of these actions. The defense may suggest that Mr. Parsons had an alibi during the time of the attempted murder. That alibi will prove irrelevant. They will attempt to make you believe that Mr. Parsons was not present for any of these actions. We will provide evidence refuting each and every one of those claims. The prosecution will request that you find the defendant guilty of all charges and sentence him to the maximum penalty allowed in the state of Maine, life without the possibility of parole. Thank you.”

"Thank you, Mr. Patrick. Mr. Dance, are you prepared to make your opening statement?"

Gerald Dance was the public defender assigned to the case, “I am, Your Honor.”

“Please proceed.”

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution’s case is completely circumstantial. The defense will provide reasonable alternate scenarios that will show it is likely that another person committed the crimes of which my client had been falsely accused. The defense doesn’t need to prove Mr. Parsons didn’t commit these crimes. That burden of proof lies solely in the prosecution’s hands. You only need to recognize that there is a reasonable doubt that my client has committed these crimes, which he hasn’t. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dance. Mr. Patrick, please call your first witness.”

Patrick called Detective Saggio, confirming his experience, then walking him through each piece of evidence they gathered during the investigation.

“Cross examine, Mr. Dance?”

“Yes, Your Honor. Detective Saggio, is there any direct evidence which proves my client abducted either of the Youngs on the evening of July second?”

“The victim, Devante Young told me Mr. Parsons was the one who broke into his house upon seeing a photograph of Mr. Parsons.”

“So, it was indicated that my client broke into the Youngs’ home. That doesn’t prove that he removed them, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t. But Mr. Young told me...”

“You can stop there, Detective. It doesn’t matter what Mr. Young told you.”

“Objection. Your Honor, firstly, counsel can’t stop the witness from answering his own question. Secondly, Mr. Young will later testify to what he told Detective Saggio.”

“Then you can ask Mr. Young himself when he takes the stand. Objection overruled. Continue, Mr. Dance.”

“Detective Saggio, without any concrete proof that my client abducted either Mr. or Mrs. Young, is there any proof that my client brought either one to the campground?”

“No. But a pair...”

“A simple no will suffice. Do you have any proof that my client was ever at the campground, aside from a pair of pants that were allegedly my client’s, being there?”

"The DNA..."

"Yes or no, Detective."

“No.”

“Do you have any proof that my client interacted in any way with Mr. Young?”

“No.”

“Including allegedly drugging him?”

“No, we can’t definitively prove that either.”

“Can you prove that my client shot and killed Mrs. Young? Were there any witnesses to that action?”

“There is no direct proof that he killed Mrs. Young, aside from her blood being on bits of plastic in your client’s basement.”

“When was that blood first noticed?”

“Upon a search of your client’s house.”

“Is it possible that Mrs. Young had been in that room at some previous point in time, and perhaps suffered an injury?”

Saggio squirmed a bit, “Yes, that is theoretically possible.”

“So let me get this straight. You can’t prove that my client broke into the Young’s home, aside from Mr. Young recognizing my client, a neighbor whom he possibly saw countless times, from a photograph. You can’t prove he ever took the Youngs anywhere, can’t prove he shot anyone, and can’t prove he was ever at the campground where Mr. Young was unfortunately injured, and his wife found deceased?”

“I think the ev...”

“Yes or no, Detective. Can you prove any of those things beyond the circumstantial evidence you have?”

“No.”

“Where was the gun that was determined to be the murder weapon found?”

“In Mr. Young’s vehicle.”

“Finally, did the shell casing matching that gun have Mr. Young’s or my client’s fingerprint on it?”

“Mr. Young’s.”

“Then why are we even here?”

“Objection!”

“I withdraw the question. Nothing further, Detective.”

"Redirect, Mr. Patrick?"

"No, Your Honor."

“You may step down. Call your next witness, Mr. Patrick.”

Patrick called Detective Gallagher and asked him about the evidence he was directly involved with obtaining. There wasn’t anything significantly different than Saggio’s testimony. Dance saw no reason to cross examine.

After the Medical examiner, Gavin Ramirez testified to what the autopsy showed, Dance did question him.

“Dr. Ramirez, during the autopsy you performed, did you find any evidence that pointed directly at a killer?”

“No.”

“The bullet’s path was such that the gun couldn’t have been fired by Mrs. Young, correct?”

“Correct, it could not have.”

“Is it possible Mr. Young, or even some unknown assailant fired that weapon?”

“Yes, that is possible, based solely on the autopsy results.”

“It would have to have been someone else, even you, correct?”

“Objection! Mr. Dance can’t really believe our M.E. killed Mrs. Young. Can he?”

“Sustained. Either rephrase the question or move on, Mr. Dance.”

“Sorry, Your Honor. Dr. Ramirez, there is no way of knowing who fired the gun, killing Mrs. Young, is there?”

“No, there isn’t, as far as the autopsy is concerned.”

“Nothing further.”

"Redirect, Mr. Patrick?"

"No, Your Honor."

“Call your next witness, Mr. Patrick.”

“The prosecution calls Devante Young.”

After he is sworn in, Patrick attempts to undo the damage done on cross of the previous witnesses.

“Mr. Young, is there any doubt in your mind that it was the defendant who broke into your house on the evening of July second of last year?"

“No doubt at all. It was him.”

“Is it true that you identified him via a photograph and observing him in a lineup?”

“Yes. Looking at him now, I’m still completely sure it was him.”

“Can you describe how he gained access to your residence?”

“Yes. It was a warm night, so we had our windows open. I heard a noise and looked into the spare bedroom. He had apparently cut the screen and was partway in through the window. Two of the nick-knacks that were on the bookshelf under that window had been knocked to the floor, likely causing the noise I heard.”

“What did you do then?”

“I went back to the master bedroom and phoned the police.”

“What happened subsequent to that phone call?”

“I went back into the hallway, saw the defendant and turned on the light, hoping to deter him, perhaps make him nervous enough to leave.”

"Objection. It hasn't been proven that the defendant was in Mr. Young's home."

Tennyson considered this for a moment, "Sustained. However, the jury is instructed to interpret that statement as Mr. Young's opinion, rather than fact."

“He didn’t leave, though, did he?”

“No. He rushed me, slamming me against the wall, causing me to become disoriented.”

“Did you lose consciousness?”

“Not yet, at that time.”

“What did you see next?”

“Maybe two minutes later, he was carrying Charlotte out of the bedroom. He put her down before reaching me and injected me with something. He walked toward the back door, and shortly after that point, I did pass out.”

“And you came to in the outhouse?”

“Yes, but there was one point where I was tied up somewhere else. I was coming around and the defendant injected me again.”

"Objection, again, not proven to be a fact."

"Sustained. Once again, the jury will take that comment as opinion."

“Were you in your own house at that point?”

“No. I didn’t know where I was, but it wasn’t any room in my house.”

“And the next thing you remember?”

“It was the police asking me questions through the outhouse door.”

“Had you or your wife ever been in the defendant’s house?”

“No.”

“Not even after you woke that first time?”

“I couldn’t be sure, but since he was there very soon after I began stirring, I believe it was his house.”

“Objection! Since the witness is unsure where he was, speculating it was the defendant’s house is irrelevant.”

“Sustained. The jury will disregard the witness's assumption of being in the defendant’s house.”

“Do you know why, after living across the street from Mr. Parsons for a number of years, he hadn’t invited either you or your wife into his house?”

“It wasn't directly across the street, but he called us, a racial slur, at least twice. It was obvious he didn’t like us.”

“Nothing further.”

“Cross, Mr. Dance?”

“Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Young, did you break into the defendant’s home and shoot your wife in his basement?”

“NO!”

“Do you own a gun?”

“Yes.”

“To your knowledge, was that gun loaded the last time you saw it?”

“Yes. An unloaded gun is no better than no gun at all.”

“You loaded it yourself?”

“Yes.”

"It was obviously dark when your home was broken into, how can you be so sure it was the defendant who broke in?"

"As I indicated earlier, I turned on the hall light. I saw him clearly."

"But he was a neighbor, surely you would have realized that?"

"Like I also said, he didn't live directly across the street, but across and six or seven houses down. It didn't register that the man in my house was the neighbor."

“Nothing further for this witness.”

"Redirect, Mr. Patrick?"

"No, Your Honor."

“The witness is excused. We’ll recess for ninety minutes for lunch. Back by 1:15 PM everybody.”

After lunch, the judge asked the DA if there were any more witnesses. There weren’t.

“Mr. Dance, do you have any witnesses?”

“No. Your Honor.”

There were two reasons Dance didn’t have Brad Parsons testify. First, he didn’t believe the prosecution proved their case, and secondly, he didn’t believe his client would be able to handle the pressure of cross examination.

The judge gave his instructions to the jury and released them to perform their deliberations. With eight charges, it took them two days to render their verdict. Wednesday morning, a little before lunchtime, the judge called everybody back to the courtroom.

“Madame forewoman, has the jury reached a verdict on each of the eight counts?”

“We have, Your Honor.”

“Bailiff, retrieve the verdicts.”

The bailiff brought the eight pages to the judge, who took a couple minutes to review them. He handed them back to the bailiff to give to the forewoman.

“On the charge of breaking and entering, how does the jury find?”

“We find the defendant guilty.”

“On the charge of simple assault, how does the jury find?”

“We find the defendant guilty.”

“On the first charge of kidnapping, against Charlotte Young, how does the jury find?”

“We find the defendant guilty.”

“On the charge of kidnapping, against Devante Young, how does the jury find?”

“We find the defendant not guilty.”

“On the first charge of wrongful imprisonment, against Charlotte Young, how does the jury find?”

“We find the defendant guilty.”

“On the second charge of wrongful imprisonment, against Devante Young, how does the jury find?”

“We find the defendant not guilty.”

“On the charge of attempted murder, how does the jury find?”

“We find the defendant not guilty.”

“On the charge of murder in the first degree, how does the jury find?”

“We find the defendant not guilty.”

“The state of Maine and county of Penobscot thank you for your service. You are free to leave.”

After the jury filed out, the judge discussed sentencing.

“I do not believe I need a separate hearing for sentencing. With four guilty verdicts, I believe sequential sentences are warranted. Bradley Parsons, please rise.”

Brad and his lawyer stood.

“Bradley Parsons, on behalf of the state of Maine, on the count of breaking and entering, I sentence you to ten years at Maine State Prison. On the count of simple assault, I sentence you to six months at Maine State Prison. On the count of kidnapping, I sentence you to twenty years at Maine State Prison. On the count of wrongful imprisonment, I sentence you to six months at Maine State Prison.

“If my math is correct, that is thirty-one years. Bradley Parsons, you shall be eligible to petition for Gubernatorial Clemency after a period of twenty years and eight months. You are now remanded to the custody of the Maine Department of Corrections. Court is adjourned.”

Part Seven - Epilogue

Brad Parsons was taken to Maine State Prison in Warren, Maine. Once there, he was locked in a cell behind three separate locked doors; each of which could only be unlocked by the guard outside the door. Even if Brad took control of the guard who let him out of his cell, transferring to the next guard would allow that first guard to sound an alarm that Brad wasn't supposed to be out of his cell, although he would have no idea why he set Brad free in the first place.

Brad was confined to his cell twenty-three hours every day. After three weeks, he felt himself weakening again. Devante's pain masked much of the fear that Brad needed to absorb in order to survive. He played sick one day so he wouldn't have to go out into the yard with the other prisoners. He took control of a random prisoner, started a fight which he hoped would get that prisoner killed. That plan failed.

Four days later, Brad was found dead in his cell. An autopsy wasn't performed, because, well, who really cared how a kidnapper locked in his cell died? There was a pool of what may have been vomit next to his head. Again, nobody was concerned that it didn't look like any vomit they'd ever seen before. Brad's passenger had weakened to the point of near expiration. Divorcing itself from the host nearly liquefied Brad's brain and allowed the passenger to leave Brad's body, where it died on the pillow next to Brad's head. The passenger killed the last innocent victim it ever would.

Detectives Saggio and Gallagher never determined what caused the puff of smoke escaping from the deceased in the three recent cases.

The End