Ruin (2) “Okay,” he said, a flush rising up from his neck. “When you drove the girl home, did you do anything? Now I’m not saying you did anything sexual, what I mean is, did you do anything that could, using the farthest reaches of the imagination, be considered aggressive, or sexual in nature? Understand that I’m talking about a confused girl here…” He was quite embarrassed by this yet he also looked glad to have said it. “It’s okay Marty, and no, I did nothing that could even remotely be considered sexual in nature. Although. . .” I paused for a minute thinking of how to phrase it, I didn’t want it to come out wrong. “She did try to kiss me.” Marty’s jaw dropped. “I backed away though and explained to her the fundamentals of teacher/student propriety. I thought she took it well…obviously not.” “It’s okay Kevin, I believe you.” Marty didn’t know what a relief it was that someone believed me. Marty finished off his cup of coffee and then left for work. As I was washing out the two coffee cups at the sink the phone rang. It was the lawyer, Mr. Lawson. The opening line of his conversation gave me the second biggest shock in my life. That’s two in the past twenty-four hours - I wasn’t sure I could handle much more. “What?” I asked again sure I had misunderstood him. “I said that she went to the hospital and they used a rape kit on her. It showed that she did in fact have sex within the past twenty four hours. The kit also showed evidence of …” he cleared his throat, “…rough intercourse, a small amount of tearing and there were bruises on her arms.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I wanted to ask him to repeat it a third time but I heard him the first time. I kept waiting to wake up, hoping, to wake up from this insane nightmare. Any time now, any time. “. . .haven’t told me you need to come clean, I need to know everything.” I was lost in thought and missed the first part of that sentence. “What?” “You need to get a better phone connection my friend,” he said, “I said, if there is anything, anything at all you haven’t told me you need to come clean, now. I have to know everything.” “I told you everything the other night, there’s nothing more to tell.” “Well, Kevin, I’m going to have to think long and hard on how we’re going to refute this rape kit in court.” I had no desire to talk to him anymore. I said goodbye and hung up. I found myself driving down Magnolia Street later that morning. It was the stupidest thing I could have done but I felt like I needed to talk to her to find out why she was saying these things and how it could be resolved. Driving up to Megan’s house I saw her putting something in her mailbox. I guess she was excused from school for a while after her “ordeal”. I pulled to the side of the road and rolled down my window. “Please Megan; tell me why you’re doing this to me.” She just looked at me with surprise in her eyes. “Why? You’re ruining my life Megan!” Megan didn’t get a chance to respond. A woman came darting out of the house waving a sheaf of papers at me. “This says you’re not allowed to come within five hundred feet of her!” It was Megan’s Mom. “I want you to leave, right this second or I’ll have you arrested, again! Haven’t you caused my daughter enough pain?” I know what you’re thinking, it was stupid. She wasn’t just going to say, “Oh, I was just kidding, sorry,” and it would all be over. I made sure not to tell Marty about my little trip and I heard nothing from the police about it. It was just over three weeks to my trial. They had Megan’s testimony, a rape kit saying she was assaulted, I don’t know how she swung that. Things were looking bad, very bad. “The important thing is that you’re innocent! If you didn’t commit the crime it will come out in court,” Marty said as we were sitting out on his back porch the next day drinking beers. “As soon as this is over I’m sure I could get the school board to bring you back on. Once you’re acquitted they’ll have no choice.” I was pretty sure my teaching career was at an end. All it takes is the mention of smoke and people will start looking for fire. “Is it possible someone can fake a rape kit?” I asked Marty then downed my beer, grabbing another one. “I don’t know. Let’s say she has a boyfriend – it wouldn’t be a far stretch to think that she persuaded him to have sex with her, rough her up a little.” The thought had never occurred to me but it seemed a perfect fit, like a puzzle piece coming into place. The only problem was the “why”. Why in the world would she do this? She has nothing to gain; I only have my life, as I once knew it, to lose. I woke up with a headache the next morning; I had overdone it on the beer. Jesus! Becoming an alcoholic was not going to help me. Marty reiterated his idea of the boyfriend helping her along but I just couldn’t get past the “why”. A bit of inspiration struck at this point and I asked myself: Who’s her boyfriend? Dark ideas were already starting to race in and out of my head. I pushed them to the back of my mind somewhat scared of what I was starting to think about. You’re innocent! Marty’s words kept repeating through my mind. It was getting to the point where I was starting to think maybe I wasn’t innocent. Before I could forget I dialed up Mr. Lawson. When he answered he said he was about to call me. He sat patiently and listened as I told him of Marty’s idea about the boyfriend and his part in all this. “It could clear up a lot,” Mr. Lawson replied, “But it would be impossible to prove. They found no fluids in her when they did the rape kit. They said the perpetrator used a condom. So that brings it back to her word against yours.” “And not even bringing it up in court would help?” I asked. I was desperate. “It would only help if you had proof. The court needs evidence. Bringing it up without evidence would only hurt your case. Kevin. . .” Mr. Lawson took a deep breath. I’m sure he’d been avoiding saying this for a few days. “. . . It doesn’t look good for you at this point. I think it’s time we started thinking about a deal.” I was livid. “A deal?! What, you mean where I say, ‘Yes I did it, so sorry,’ and they come back with a lighter sentence? You’re out of your mind! There’s no way I will ever, ever confess to something I didn’t do.” Mr. Lawson sounded ashamed, “I didn’t mean to upset you Kevin but you’re looking at ten to fifteen years if convicted, paired with being labeled as a sex offender for the rest of your life. If you were to make a deal they may be persuaded to offer you five years and omit registration as a sex offender.” I had nothing to say in response. I felt defeated. Totally and utterly defeated. I felt like crying. “You don’t have to decide anything now, just entertain the possibility. You never know, something may come up that will get you off the hook all together,” Mr. Lawson said. All I could tell him was okay, I’ll think about it and then I hung up. No. I would never entertain the possibility of a plea bargain. If I was going to go to jail it was going to be because I was forced. I would never purposely put myself there. I grabbed my coat and left the house, I needed to take a drive and clear my head. Birch Street offered a better view than I had hoped for. After I left the house I stopped by a sporting goods store and picked up some binoculars. They were a little fuzzy, but what did I expect for eleven dollars? My car was parked on the right side of the road, halfway in the grass. The house across the street from me was empty, a “Golden Realty” sign near the mailbox. Most houses around here had a garage, but the house I was parked across from only had a carport. It afforded me an unobstructed view of Megan’s house, and I believed if I had measured the distance between me and her house it would have been over five hundred feet. Then I wouldn’t be breaking the law, would I? School had let out thirty minutes ago and I could see the bus turning at the corner of Magnolia and Shade, headed back to the highway. Pretty soon I saw someone walking down the street. It was Megan, and she was alone. I had a camera with me; I was ready to take a picture of her and her boyfriend together. So much for that--it was a stupid idea anyway. What could it prove? I think I just didn’t want to admit to myself what I was really doing there. After a few moments Megan reached her house. It was empty, just like yesterday. Her parents wouldn’t be home until six. So that left her alone for three and a half hours… Marty said that he talked to Megan about this situation but she was unwavering. She still insisted that I had assaulted her and Marty was unable to break her. The lawyer was talking more and more about cutting a deal and my situation was looking worse by the minute. I had just over two weeks before the trial and I had nothing to use as a defense, in fact because of the rape kit there was even more evidence piled on. I wasn’t going to cut a deal. I still wouldn’t agree to confess to something I didn’t do, but it looked like I was going to go to jail for this, it was like one of those movies you see on TV, where the innocent guy is convicted and sent to jail for life. I had no other options, unless. . . No, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t even think about it. But--it would solve my problem. I just had to do it without getting caught. No! I shouldn’t even think it I kept telling myself. You’ll find a way out of this, I know you will. Whether the attorney would pull something new out of his hat or not, I kept thinking about another possibility. A week has passed and now one week remains before my trial. I’ve come to terms with what I have to do, it’s my only option. When Marty went to work this morning he gave me a peculiar look, “Are you okay Marty? I mean really, Okay? Aside from the trial are you okay?” he asked. I think I was starting to lose it and I also think that Marty could tell. I assured him I was fine and went to work gathering everything I would need. At thirty minutes past two on Friday afternoon I pulled into my usual spot on Birch Street and retrieved the binoculars from the glove box. Here she was, alone, walking home. I sat there watching her through the binoculars, wondering if I was really going to do this. But could I afford not to? Now thinking back, I don’t think killing her would have solved my problems. The accusation would still be there and even if there was nobody to point the finger, people would always assume I had done it. I was planning to make it look like an accident. I didn’t realize at the time that if anything happened to her, accident or not, I would be suspected. All I was thinking at the time was hit and run statistics. Did you know that every day in America at least five people fall victim to a hit and run accident? Every day. At the time those odds looked pretty good to me. Megan was killed by a hit and run driver? I could ask with my shock and surprise inserted in the appropriate places. Well you know, it happens quite often. Yes, five people every day, shocking. I’m sorry to say that young Megan’s chips finally landed on the wrong square—-a victim of statistics. I pulled my car out into the road, doing a three point turn in the street and drove to Magnolia Street. There was Megan, two hundred yards in front of me. I could just drive by, there would be a small bang from the impact, and Megan would fly to the side of the road, dead, along with all my problems. Yes, it’s a terrible thing about that poor girl, but as you know, the statistics are high; in fact I don’t think there were five hit and run deaths yet this year. Murder? No, I’m just evening out the statistics. I was about to start accelerating when a vehicle rounded the corner of Magnolia and Shade. Shit. By the time the car had passed, Megan was walking up her driveway. She was out of the road. Hey, I’m an optimist! There’s always Monday! I still have four more school days to go, talk about odds! Four to one. It wouldn’t be a question of whether or not I killed her; it would be a question of when I killed her. I laughed about it on the way home and was still laughing as I pulled into the driveway. Marty’s car was there when I pulled in. It wasn’t usual for him to be home before five and it wasn’t even three yet. Did he know what I was planning? I hope not, it would hurt for me to have to take care of Marty too. When I walked in, Marty was pacing back and forth in the kitchen, very excited. “Kevin! There you are, I’ve been looking for you.” “Here I am,” I said. “I have the absolute best news you would ever want to hear!” Ding, dong, the bitch is dead? Marty was grinning from ear to ear and looked like he was going to hemorrhage he was so excited. The wicked bitch, the wicked bitch is dead? “I cornered Megan at school today. I followed her into the ladies room and locked the door behind me. I refused to let her go unless she told me the truth. You know what she said?” He was waiting for a response, but I just stood there listening. “She said ‘What could it hurt? There’s no way for him to get out of it now.’ What could it hurt! Can you believe that? What could it hurt? She was so smug about it!” Marty started laughing, slapping his thigh for emphasis. Yes, I believed it. I could believe almost anything nowadays. “So what did she say?” I asked. Marty’s smile widened a bit, if that was possible. “Listen yourself,” he said as he produced a small tape recorder from his pocket and pushed play. There was a crackling sound and some rumbling, and then there were voices on the tape: Megan: Please Mr. Schuyler let me pass (some shuffling noises) Marty: Not until you tell me the truth! You’re destroying Mr. Reynor and I won’t allow it to go on. (long pause) Megan: All right, what could it hurt? He has no chance of getting out of this. Fine, I’ll tell you what he did. He rejected me, that’s what he did. (Megan’s voice rises in volume and pitch) Megan: Nobody, and I mean NOBODY rejects me, and now he’s paying the price for it. Marty: And this justifies destroying a man’s life? Megan: You’d be surprised at what I’m capable of. Now get out of my way or you’re gonna find yourself waist deep in a pile shit, and you won’t be able to crawl out of it. Marty: So you made this entire thing up just to get back at him for rejecting you? Megan: Yes. You’d do well not to get on my bad side either Mr. Schuyler. Marty: That’s inhuman. Megan: That’s life. Marty: And the rape kit business? Megan: That was a piece of work wasn’t it, huh? There were a dozen boys at school who were willing to help out with that. (Megan starts laughing) Marty pushed the stop button on the recorder, “I’m sure that’s going to be more than enough to get you off. Can you believe how cocky she is? We’ve got her now buddy. We’ve got her. Hey--are you okay?” Marty’s voice started to fade as the world began to turn grey. He sounded like he was speaking to me from the other end of a long tunnel. I sat down hard in the chair beside me trying not to faint. After a few moments the world came back into focus. “She confessed? It’s all on tape?” I asked, not believing any of this. “That’s right. We got her.” Marty clapped me on the shoulder. I know I should have been happier, but I was in shock. Marty had gotten a recorded confession from her. It might even stand up in court. I was free. I should have been overjoyed, but all I could do was sit there and shake, thinking back to less than half an hour ago. If that car wouldn’t have come down Magnolia Street right at that precise moment, I would have run her down, killing her, after she had already confessed. Did I almost kill her? Was I actually going to kill her? I sat there on Marty’s kitchen chair, unable to speak, horrified by what I had almost done.
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Copyright © 2006 Johan Keylay |