The Murder

Watching. All I do anymore is watch. I am not noticed by those I watch. When people are alone, there are so many lies. I guess they feel safe so their true selves come into the light. Most lies are partners cheating, people that have various addiction problems and similar. Can I tell you a story of my favorite lie?

There is a man in town who has been arrested for murder. He is accused of killing his mother with an ax. It was a huge story in this little town where the biggest news is usually the size of the tumbleweeds. His mother was found dead in her home, as most murder victims are normally found. The same story of blood everywhere and rookie cops who cannot keep their lunch down. The story of how she was murdered is not important to the tale. It is just the inciting incident.

The man did not live with his mom. He lived on the other side of town, only visiting her on weekends. They both had their own lives that were enough for them. His mom was a part of the local flower planting community. She, along with a few other older ladies, would volunteer to help plant flowers and small trees around the community. They never accepted payment for their services. If payment was made, the money found its way back into the community in some way. The man was a local handyman. He charged very little for his services. In the times where someone was in desperate need, he would find a way to ensure they got his help for free. 

Both the man and mother were life long residents of the town. Both had earned respect from the community. When the murder happened, to say it shocked the town would be an understatement. I don’t think the word exists to adequately describe the feeling. It was a shock wave that rocked the town. The residents needed answers. They needed a suspect. 

The local sheriff had not investigated a murder in over 15 years. The worst crime he usually dealt with was an occasional drunk. He had only two other deputies on his crew. They tried their best to look like they knew what they were doing. There was a lot of police tape around the home. They took pictures and performed interviews of the neighbors. No one saw or heard anything. With no witnesses or suspects, the people of the town became increasingly agitated. They needed a suspect to be found. As long as the person was free, they did not feel safe. 

The sheriff was desperate for an arrest. They felt that if they did not arrest someone soon, the town would take it upon themselves to find the murderer. The sheriff and his deputies came up with a plan. They would arrest the son as a place holder for the real murderer. In the meantime, they would keep investigating. 

The sheriff showed up at the son’s door only a couple of days after his mom’s death and announced that he was under arrest for the murder. He was understandably quite upset. He had not even buried his mom yet and was now being accused of the horrible crime. He felt confused, sad and angry all at the same time. Who would believe he was capable of such a thing? He was not a violent man in any way. He barely raised his voice in anger. 

Days passed while the son sat in jail. The sheriff continued his investigation but was rapidly running out of leads. He didn’t want an innocent man to spend the rest of his life in jail, or worse be put to death. The longer it took to find the real murderer, the harder it would be to get the son free. None of this made sense. The mother and son didn’t have any enemies. The mother was not rich, and was not robbed when she was killed. There seemed to be no motive for the killing. 

As months passed, the town became restless again with the lack of justice. They felt that the son had to stand trial for his crimes. Sitting in jail was not enough for them. After much pressure, the sheriff finally agreed to let the county prosecutor take the case to trial. 

The court room was packed. The crowd sat on the edge of their seats as they listened intently to the facts of the case. The images were disturbing in their details. There were no witnesses for either side. The son was home alone at the time of the murder. No one saw him come or go. It was the sheriff’s word against his and the judge and jury would rather believe him since he was the law. The trial lasted for a single day. The jury was out for an hour. They had their decision immediately. They waited for the hour just for the sense of suspense. When the court convened, they read their verdict to the waiting crowd. Guilty. The son felt crushed inside. The judge sentenced him to death within a week. The crowd was jubilant. They had their murderer and would soon see blood repaid with blood. Not a single person in the room noticed the son’s tears. No one except for me. 

The day of the execution came all too quickly. The son had barely slept all week. He looked haggard and worn. He barely ate or drank anything. Why bother? He will be gone soon anyway. The guard came to retrieve him from his cell and take him to his death. It was going to be by firing squad. He was the only person in the history of this town to be put to death this way. As the deputy placed the blindfold, you could see the son visibly shaking. Not one person cared. There was an agonizing moment of silence before the sound of the shots rang out. The son collapsed on the ground in a puddle of blood. The local doctor checked for signs of life. He was dead. 

The residents of the town stayed in silence. Slowly they all turned and walked away. They went back to their homes to continue their lives. The memory of the mother and son would fade over time, until it was just a story that was remembered only through newspaper clippings. No one but me knows what happened to the son after he was killed. 

After the shots rang out, his spirit slowly stood up from his body. He stood there, looking down at what was moments before his living self. The son didn’t know what he was supposed to do next. There is no handbook to tell us what we are expected to do after we die. I watched him for a moment. I did not want to disturb the silence. Some time after the residents had all left, and the lights turned off, did he turn and look at me. He did not know I was there until that very moment. He looked sad and confused. 

“What will happen to my body?” 

“Well, they will come back for it tonight after the town goes to sleep. Your body will be buried before the morning’s first light touches the earth. You will pass into memory.” 

“Who are you? How do you know these things? Are you death come to guide me?”

“No. I have been here for a while. You could not see me since you were living. Now that you are dead, my presence is revealed. I am, in fact, a traveler. I was passing through this town when I was killed. Run over by a drunk driver and left in the road.” I stated this as a matter of fact, which it is. I had all of this time to reconcile with my own death, as well as the life I lived.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I never heard of you. It must have been something that was swept under the rug to protect someone in this town.”

“Don’t worry. I have come to terms with it. My death was deserved if I am being truly honest. Want to know why? I am the person who murdered your mother. Can you keep a secret?”