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The story of a man who loved so much, he was willing to die behind steel bars.
|AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (1)
Midnight Cry (Poetry) The tragedy of an unknown person, depicted in four short verses. [100 words] [Drama]
Everyone in Brookevale knew the story, though many have ever dared to retell it. Many of those who knew it considered it to be less of a story, and more of a legend, and considered it the legend of the most inscrutable and incomparable picture of love in over two thousand years. The story that had traveled through the last 26 years, refusing to die out, though so few were able to tell it. The story of Andrew Sayam.
Many considered Andrew to be one of the most spiritual men in Brookevale. A married father of four, considered by his wife to be the perfect man.
“He’s the most wonderful man a woman could ask for,” his wife June would answer if asked. “I would not ask for better.”
Life was considered perfect for the Sayam family for over a decade, until one fateful night when Andrew Sayam’s changed forever.
It was just 9:30 PM on a cold winter night in 1982 when five gunshots rang out from the Sayam home. Andrew had been putting his oldest child Lela to bed when he heard the shots. He instinctively ran to youngest child’s room, finding his son Jared dead. Running from room to room, the horror of the occurrence still ringing in his mind, he one by one found his family dead.
When the police finally arrived, Andrew was found in his room, holding his wife’s limp body shakily. The police searched the area for the gunman, finally coming back to tell Andrew that the killer was gone.
But one thing was left wrong.
The drawer in Andrew’s bedside table was left slightly ajar. Inside was a tiny glint of black metal.
The officer nearest pulled it out of the drawer, and gave it to the CSI team that was investigating the house.
Andrew said that he recognized this gun as his own. He was promptly arrested, while the CSI team tested the weapon for fingerprints.
After just a day, the team had come up with the results of the test. The weapon tested positive for Andrew’s fingerprints, and the slugs found in his family’s bodies matched the weapon exactly.
To the massive protest of the entire city, Andrew was charged with a pentuple homicide. The city was suddenly buzzing with tourists, news reporters, tabloid writers, and journalists, all coming to watch the outcome of the trial. As many had expected, the trial did not last long.
“This is the weapon that you purchased ten years ago?” asked the jury member.
“Yes.” replied Andrew indifferently.
“And this weapon was found bearing only your fingerprints after the attack on your family one month ago.” the jury member went on. “It is evidently true that you are the only person to ever have touched this weapon. Does that seem correct?”
“Yes, it does.” said Andrew, as if he were being asked out to lunch by a new acquaintance.
“Therefore, it seems also evident that you are the only suspect who could’ve possibly committed the crime on your family one month ago.” the jury member said, evidently unnerved by Andrew’s resilience. “Is that also evident to you, Mr. Sayam?”
“Yes, it is.” said Andrew.
“Very well,” said the judge. “Has the jury reached a decision?”
“Yes,” said the jury member. “We the jury find the defendant, Andrew J. Sayam guilty of all charges.”
“Very well,” said the judge gravely. “Mr. Sayam, I sentence you to life in prison.”
With the crack of a gavel, the bailiff came forward, taking Andrew from the stand.
Even in the face of this verdict, Andrew’s smile never wavered.
Outside Andrew as met with hundreds of people, all with outraged looks on their faces at the presence of the bailiff.
“Andrew, why didn’t you tell them what really happened?!” asked one of the people angrily.
“Why are you accepting this without a word?!” asked another.
And through all of the cries, Andrew’s smile stayed true, and he merely said to them: “Goodbye, my friends. Remember me well.”
And to this day, 26 years later, if ever asked about the story, about what had really happened on that fateful night, about who had really killed his family, Andrew would simply smile and answer: “I love, therefore, I do not hold a grudge, nor do I keep any record of what has passed.”
And though the public is constantly attempting to get him to reveal the truth, they have never yet succeeded.
Only two people know what really happened on that fateful night, one too much of a coward to admit what he had done, and one, too much a man to reveal the fact that he is truly innocent, one of them running, one of them in prison, and though many outsiders would consider him to be the most despicable thing on earth, all those who truly know him that he is not truly a murderer, or a man who could ever be held to such a crime in a right world, he remains silent, a man of God, willing to die behind steel bars rather than deny the true culprit of the crime the chance to repent. And to this day, he remains in his silence, among all those who have truly committed wrong, the picture of grace
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© 2008 Joshua Meihaus
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