Killer Cute

The common criminal, Curtis Felone, entered the public eye during his three trials for one bank robbery. Each of them ended with a hung jury.

It was during these trials he became known by his nickname, ‘Babyface Felone.’ Before that he’d been a small-time crook known only to law enforcement. He had no practical skills beyond those which led to his arrest.

Three unsuccessful prosecutions for the same charge attracted massive media attention. Felone became the celebrity known as the ‘cute gangster,’ or ‘Babyface.’

Sociologist, Ignacio Ersatz, addressed this in his seminal essay on American culture. He stated that a society weary of degrading and dehumanizing imagery craves beauty. And despite his dubious character, such a society can’t help but idolize Felone’s cherubic face, as balm to its collective soul.

Curtis despised anything ‘cute.’ He hated anyone who dared say how ‘cute’ he was. However, he never acted on his numerous threats of violence.

In high school, Curtis was uniquely popular. Always invited to parties, he was also elected to the student council despite his not running. His vote count exceeded the number of students in his class.

He thought he was somebody until noticing curious behavior from his ‘fans.’ When speaking to individuals or a group, people watched him, barely blinking. They stared. Especially the girls. But no one listened to him.

He tested this observation by saying outrageous, insulting things. No one noticed. Few remembered anything he said. But they always remarked on his ‘cuteness.’

Though he tried out for various sports, he never made the teams. He played well enough but was never accepted. He didn’t fit in.

Curtis successfully joined conversations with other male students. But as soon as girls joined in, the conversation died. Curtis’ popularity with females hindered anything but the shallowest exchanges with guys. He attributed it to envy. At least guys didn’t stare at him.

Girls wanted to be seen with Curtis. They sought him out and took pictures standing with him. But no one spoke to him. Who talks to a prop? Though surrounded by fawning women, he felt isolated and lonely. They touched him and cooed as if he were a pet, not a person.

A girl in his class, Daisy, paid him no attention, as if he didn’t exist. To Curtis, this seemed bizarre compared to how others behaved. This piqued his interest in her. He wanted to know her. And for her to know him. He became obsessed.

One day, after class, Curtis approached Daisy.

“Hey, Daisy…” She glanced at him and continued gathering her books. “Whaddya say we catch a movie Friday night?”

Daisy tried to cover her wince.                                              “Or a coffee?”

“I don’t know… Curtis…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I like you Curtis… But not that way.”

“Why? Don’t you think I’m cute? Everyone thinks so. Girls fight to get close to me.”

“Of course. Who could deny that? It’s just…”

“What?”

“Cute isn’t that interesting to me. I want a guy who’s not only about appearances.”

“You’re kidding. Everything… Everyone… my whole life has told me cute’s all that matters…”

“I’m sorry…”

She turned away. They crossed paths on occasion, but after her rejection, there was nothing to say. They never spoke again.

After that, Curtis felt a long-hidden well of anger emerge. He stopped trying to cover it, pretending to be nice.

Daisy’s honesty changed the way Curtis saw everything. He rejected praise for being ‘cute.’ He knew no one took him seriously. He no longer pretended he wasn’t held back by his fabulous looks. Distrusting any attention he received, Curtis felt betrayed, lied to, and dismissed.

He certainly did not feel cute.

Curtis’ anger often bordered on rage. After Daisy’s rejection, generating fear became his default method for gaining respect.

After graduating, he sought various entry level jobs. But each dreaded interview became a disastrous ordeal.

When the interviewer was a woman, the conversation typically derailed when she asked Curtis how he got so cute. That simple word triggered some outlandish reactions from him. Job offers did not follow.

When a man interviewed Curtis, secretaries, nurses, and female staff congregated outside the door. The ensuing commotion underscored the fact Curtis wouldn’t be ‘a good fit.’

Terminal cuteness rendering him unemployable drove Curtis to desperation. He began mugging likely suspects for cash, jewelry and other easily sold items. His buyers cared not a whit about his ‘cutes.’ That was an added perk for Curtis.

One late twilight, Curtis pulled a gun on a middle-aged woman walking alone on a deserted street. Short and stocky, she had no business walking alone at night, in this neighborhood.

Pulling a gun, he blocked her path.

Whimpering in terror, she shoved her purse at him. As he rummaged for her wallet, she moved closer and peered at him in the waning light.

“Excuse me…” she asked, almost whispering.

Curtis bristled at what he knew she would say.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking…”

Curtis braced himself. He didn’t want to get triggered and hurt her. Just get the goods and get out.

He said, “What?”

She gained confidence. “Your skin… it’s so… like porcelain. What do you use on it?”

This was a new take. He relaxed but pulled cash from her wallet.

Several weeks before, Curtis had bought a skin crème promising to diminish his insufferable cuteness. To his chagrin, it compounded the problem. 

Without going into details, he told her the product name.

“I don’t use it anymore. Guess I misunderstood what ‘vanishing crème’ does. Like keeping a low profile. If I had it with me, I’d give it to you.”

She said, “It’s amazing. I’ve seen windows with more pores than you have.”

His jaw tensed. “Thank you…” Being gracious felt strained.

“I know it’s a lot to ask… I mean, you’re robbing me… But could you, by any chance, write the name down for me? I forget things when I’m stressed.”

Curtis could hardly refuse. He shoved his pistol into his pants.

He asked, “Do you have a pen?”

She said, “In my purse. Didn’t you see it? Always on the bottom… I keep a note pad too…”

Curtis found the pen and pad. He scribbled the product name and handed her purse back.

She looked at the paper. “Oh, my… I don’t know how to thank you.”

He smiled. “I got the cheaper one. I hear their top of the line works miracles. Not that you need one.”

She laughed. “Well, we’ll see, won’t we?”

He hesitated. “Look, it’s pricey. I’ll help you out a little.” He handed her half of the bills he’d filched from her wallet.

“Oh, no. You shouldn’t.”

Smiling, he took her hand and folded the money into her palm.

She said, “You’re too kind. Thank you, so much!”

“Forget it…” He waved as he ran away.

She returned her money to her purse.

“What a nice man… And so cute!”

After that, he joined with two like-minded miscreants to plan a bank heist. At first, everything went like clockwork. Everyone knew what to do and when.

Curtis covered everyone with his pistol. Jimmy collected money from the patrons and Tony cleaned out the vault.

During their first robbery, Jimmy approached Curtis with his sack.

“Boss, we could open a jewelry store.”

Curtis pulled it open. The women had tossed their wedding and engagement rings into the sack. They all smiled at him.

“No, no. Give the rings back. Keep the cash. Gotta be cool…”

Curtis cocked his head. He heard something and went ballistic.

Waving his pistol about, he yelled. “Who said I’m cute? Who said it?”

A woman standing with others stepped forward. “Well, you are.”

He waved the pistol over his head. When he shot the security camera, everyone flinched.

“I’m not cute. Get it? Next person who says it’s gonna take a bullet to the gut. Think that’ll be cute?”

The woman turned to those around her. “Can’t help myself. Look at him.”

They tried to distance themselves.

Curtis trained his pistol on her. She stood her ground while those near her shrank away.

Holding her head up, she said, “I only spoke the truth.”

The alarm rang. Chaos ensued as those escaping were met by a crowd of women surging into the bank.

Swarming around Curtis and clamoring for autographs, they handed him flyers with his picture.

Curtis held one up. “What’s this?”

“A wanted poster... of you!”

Another said, “Can you believe he’s even better in person?”

Sirens approached and stopped outside the bank. The police ran in. They arrested Curtis and his accomplices. Resistance was no option.

The women protested forcing the police to call for assistance quelling a near riot.

The first trial ended with a hung jury. Female jurors voted ‘not guilty’ when they didn’t vote ‘marry me.’ Male jurors wouldn’t convict in order to maintain positive relations with their wives. A few actually looked at the evidence. Thus, the hung jury.

The second trial ended as badly. The judge declared a mistrial to avoid backlash from sending ‘Babyface’ to prison.

An enterprising reporter spoke to Curtis’ accomplices. None of his gang would admit to thinking Babyface was cute.

Jimmy said, “I don’t see it. Women seem to like him. He’s just a guy to me.”

Tony said, “Handsome maybe. Couldn’t work with a cutie.”

The reporter commented, “What can you expect? Proof of their dishonesty.”

The third trial didn’t drag on. After repeated outbursts from spectators, Judge Sway restricted access to the public. She only allowed credentialed press, and witnesses to the crime in attendance.

No one disputed the evidence. But deliberations lasted days.

Judge Sway summoned the jury into the court room. The bailiff and the jury foreman assured her the jury could not agree on a verdict.

Banging her gavel, the judge addressed Curtis, “Mr. Felone, this has been an unusual trial. The many distractions had little bearing on the overwhelming evidence of your guilt. I don’t care how cute you are. I look at the facts. This isn’t a beauty contest.”

Suppressing the urge to respond, Curtis nodded.

Judge Sway continued, “Three juries have seen the evidence. The facts are indisputable. Numerous witnesses testified. We have video of you looking into the security camera before you shot and destroyed it.”

“It wasn’t me.” Curtis’ attorney, Mr. Litigia grabbed his arm to control him.

“There’s no denying that cute face, Mr. Felone. You’re guilty as hell.”

The courtroom erupted in shouting. Judge Sway banged her gavel until the room settled.

She said, “I know, as a judge, I can’t say that. The jury must determine your guilt. They have failed to do so.”

She shuffled some papers and nodded at the bailiff.  

“The only fact that matters… and it is a sad fact… Three hung juries have proven that no one will find that cute, baby face guilty.”

The defense attorney touched his client’s shoulder, quelling Curtis’ simmering rage.

Judge Sway said, “Mr. Felone, go home and honor that face. I advise you to become an honest man. The next judge you meet may not be so accommodating.”

Mr. Litigia whispered to Curtis who relaxed.

Judge Sway sighed, “Personally, in another life, I’d take you home and cuddle you like my very own little gumdrop.”

Shouting, and lunging at the judge, Curtis almost dove over the table. His lawyer got him to sit before security officers could haul him out.

Mr. Litigia said, “I object, your Honor. My client is not a gumdrop.”

Judge Sway smiled. “That is true, Mr. Litigia. He is not. The court notes I didn’t call him one. I expressed a personal opinion, not a legal one, as a citizen and a healthy woman.”

She winked at Curtis and sounded her gavel.

“The state will not revisit this case, which I dismiss with prejudice. Court is adjourned.”

~

After gaining his freedom and fame, agents and production companies approached Curtis. He signed with one and began a lengthy and lucrative career in advertising.

The products he promoted did well associated with his beautiful moon face. Curtis thrived in every way.

He and Judge Anita Sway were married a year after the trial ended. They had a long, happy marriage.

But Curtis never shook the nick name, ‘Babyface Felone.’