Love Judith

Detective Womack had a sharp eye for detail after twenty plus years in the Homicide Unit in Baltimore.  Once the home of Edgar Allan Poe, the original literary creepster, his mind was on the newest homicide case as the forensic team took pictures of the murder scene.

He put his hand to chin that had doubled over the past decade as he lived on a carbohydrate diet of doughnuts and bread.

“Another lonely hearts email club.” He shook his head.

“Hard to believe who was who.” Officer Ronwick examined the desk of the victim while wearing his latex gloves. 

“Happens more than you think.” Womack mused as he watched the officer.

“Love can be a strong motivator.” He shrugged.

“Love? I doubt that was the true motivator.” Womack shook his head again.

The facts and physical evidence did not agree with any sort of quick solution.  He knew solving this case, he would have to dig deeper to find what had taken place.  He was in possession of the victim’s laptop where a whole email painted a sordid picture of lust and greed.  Specialist Hortex had helped him access the victim’s internal records that included over two hundred emails between the victim and the main suspect of this horrific murder.

Face it, decapitation was a very dramatic act of maliciousness.

Doc Kearney had carefully wrapped the victim’s head in a black bag where it would be stored pending an autopsy.

Autopsy?  It is a physical fact that the traumatic removal of someone's head was very often a definite cause of death, still there may have been some extenuating circumstances that needed to come to light.  What they could be, however, was secondary in this brutal assault. 

Judith, 

Troy, here.  Just checking in to make sure you’re alright.  In your last email, you expressed tension between you and your ex-bf.  He sounds like a real jerk from what you told me.  I would be happy if you sought refuge with me.

Troy

The date and time was from three weeks ago.  The generic headings did not indicate any sort of love connection.  Yet.  Once there was a spark, however, the flames were sure to follow.

Troy,

I am in such trouble, I do not know if I can stand it much longer. My ex has made it clear that he wants to hurt me bad. I spend most of my time looking over my shoulder. 

Judith 

Judith appeared to be a person who lived in the fear of being stalked by an abusive boyfriend.  This was not anything out of the ordinary, unfortunately, since men tended to be the aggressors in these types of relationships. It also appeared that Troy had the upper hand since he seemed to follow the strict rules of grammar.  Womack knew that wasn’t much of a clue, but sometimes the smallest of detail could become a major hinge pin in a case.    

Especially a case that had grabbed the attention of the media with its headless victim.  The chief made it quite clear that the sooner they solved the case the better.

Judith,

It seems to me that you are not safe and it would be better if you had someone looking after you…

Womack read the email very carefully as this seemed to be a turning point in their relationship.  It was still not enough to point a finger at a suspect, but his instincts told him that it could lead him in a more definite direction.  

“Did you find anything?” Womack asked as he propped the laptop up on his lap as he sat in an easy chair.

“Naw.” Officer Ronwick shook his head feeling that he was wasting his time poking around the desk area even though the murder happened just feet from where he was poking around.  “You?”

“Nothing solid.” Womack sighed.

“You think something as brutal as what happened would have a bunch of clues pointing to a suspect.” He reasoned, “I think something was definitely going on between the two of them.”

“It would seem that way.” Womack pressed another button to read an email.

Troy,

You know how desperate I can become when I feel stalked.  He was a brute and my mom told me as much. I shoulda listened, but she is a drunk…

Womack began to wonder if maybe someone from the outside of their love circle may have extolled vigilante justice.  The broadsword was heavy and difficult to wield.  It was an awkward instrument of death at best.  In order for someone to use it to behead someone, the person would have to use both hands on the hilt and then fight gravity to bring it down on the victim to sever the head from the body.

But that’s exactly what had happened.  The murderer had done precisely that in such a manner that the neck sustained but a single stroke, separating the head from the victim’s body.  

Even medieval executioners paid to deliver a single fatal blow to the condemned, but due to a variety of reasons, would often miscalculate and have to take extra blows before completing the execution.  There were some old medieval records where the condemned prisoner had to receive several blows before their head fell into the basket next to the  chopping  block, meaning that the poor wretch had to endure a great deal of suffering before finally being dispatched. 

Whoever murdered the victim had delivered an expert blow considering that the victim was not bent over a chopping block.

The next email seemed ominous as he read it.  There were all sorts of red flags that began to swim in his brain.

The murder scene was one of the most grisly he had ever seen in his career as a homicide detective.  Even when he closed his eyes, he could see the living room where the victim lay in two pieces and the sword left next to the body covered in the victim’s blood.  His stomach turned when he opened the door to the small apartment.  Blood soaked into the tightly weaved carpet as the computer sat on the desk waiting for a response. A response that would never come. 

Troy, 

Can we meet later?  I really need to talk to you.  A coffee klatch? Some place private? 

Judith

Judith,

Let’s meet at the Starbuck on Hoster Avenue near the pier.  They have a wonderful selection.

Troy

“You gotta hunch about that headless case?” Piccolo, the chief, asked the next morning when Womack walked in.

“No, I don’t have anything new.” He shook his head.

“The mayor’s on my ass.  We’ve got the media crawling all over this one.” Piccillo ran his finger around his collar and gritted his teeth. “We got all sorts of ghouls callin’ us at all hours.  Cliff, you gotta start puttin’ the pieces together before the nuts start comin’ outta the cracks.” 

“Chief, I am working on this.” He shot back, “I stayed up half the night goin’ through the computer and still there is nothing in there that tells me a thing.” 

“You are the best of the best.  I’ve got faith in you, Cliff.” He put his fists on his desk, “We gotta get this case shut.” 

“We will, but we have to make sure we got our man.” Womack sighed.

“I heard the murder weapon weights a ton.” The chief sat down.

“I could barely lift it.” Womack leaned against the door frame to Chief Piccollo’s office. 

“Who besides Arnold Swartzneiger could lift that thing?” He shook his head.

“Beats me.” Womack shrugged before shuffling back to his office.

For his entire career on the force, Cliff Womack had been a cautious man.  When he took the detective exam, he studied just like he did in college for his physics exam in his junior year.  When he was put in charge of a case, he looked at it from every possible angle despite the political pressure that was put on him from time to time.  The main suspect was not strong enough to even lift the murder weapon.  

Troy, 

My ex is threatening me…

Judith’s ex was Millard Hommel who was a truck driver and part time body builder at Gold’s Gym with a bunch of other muscle junkies.  He would look mythological holding the broadsword above his head, but he was on a cross-country run when the murder went down.  He had an iron-clad alabais. 

Judith, 

I am not much of a muscle guy like your ex, but I will protect you, I promise…

Reading this email, made Womack smile for a moment as the pint size superhero would be lucky if he could manage to lift a broom over his head. From what he had gathered, Womack found Troy Tonsick was a Marvel Comic and video game junkie known in the local gaming community as Mighty Holofenes.  Since he wasn’t well versed in this subculture, Cliff Womack did not see Troy Tonsick’s handle as any kind of evidence.

There were some emails that Troy had attempted to delete, but even when deleted, some cyber trace remained.   As it turned out, Specialist Hortex could access deleted emails from a user’s file and he showed Womack his secret.

“You are gonna be the chief of police one day.” He marveled at Hortex’s skills and ability.  Hortex just smiled and turned on his heel, leaving Womack to access some of the emails Troy Tonsick had deleted. 

Judith, 

I feel we are becoming closer.  I must admit, I have never had a girlfriend before…

Troy,

Please do not assume that we are forming a relationship.  After dealing with Millard, I feel I need some space…

Judith,

Please hear me out, since our meeting at Starbucks, I feel a closeness to you I have never felt from anyone else…

Troy,

You have no idea who I really am…

Womack frowned as he read Judith’s explanation of her twisted background, of abuse and abandonment.  After his divorce a few years ago, Womack lived in his own isolation and loneliness.  He could understand how Troy Tonsick was feeling.  Loneliness was a weight heavier than the murder weapon and could cut you to pieces if you let it.  Sometimes he heard his neighbors argue and fight through the thin wall of his apartment. The things they said to each other could really damage their self-esteem.  Just hearing them made him sad and lonelier. 

Troy,

It would be better if you left me alone.  Find someone who will treat you right.  I am not that person…

There was a heaviness to these words, because she was trying to distance herself from him, but in his response, he did not heed her warnings.  Her past records showed some mental health issues including a suicide attempt that landed her a stay in the Baltimore Psychiatric Hospital.  Womack knew the big ugly brick building down around Main Street when he had to visit some of the patients involved in the cases he was working.  It was well known that anyone spending time in that place was truly sick.  

Under her name included a handful of felonies for minor incidents of pickpocketing and pandering.  She had been on the streets before she turned twenty and had been to rehab a couple of times for heroin.  Judith Oakford had been on the fringe of the community most of her life.  No wonder she wished to keep her distance from Troy Tonsick.

It didn’t work out that way, however, as they were headed for a trainwreck that could not be avoided.

“Anything new?” The chief put his head in the door of Womack’s office.

“I have a gut feeling, but so far nothing solid to hang my hat on.” He scratched his balding head.

“I need to talk to the press in an hour.  C’mon Cliff, throw me a bone.” He begged.

“If I am wrong, they can come at us with slander.” He ran his fingers over his head, “You remember the muck we got ourselves into over the Jennings case.  We almost lost that on a technicality.”

“I suppose.” He sighed.

“When I have solid evidence, I will scream it out.” He shook his head.

“What about the ex?” 

“Solid alabais.” Womack showed him the paper with Millard’s boss’ statement.

“I wish there was something we could find that would give us what we need.” He chuckled.

“Dear God, it is just so convoluted.” Womack threw his hands up.

“Something will turn up.” Chief Piccollo shrugged.

As it turned out, that is exactly what occurred.  As Womack picked through his cafeteria lunch, he heard someone speaking at a table nearby. 

“Yeah, the victim was beheaded just like that guy in the Bible, the assyrian king…”  One of the uniformed guys said when talking about the case.

“King Holofernes?” the other person said.

“Holofernes?  Where had he heard that name before?” Womack mused. 

“Got him drunk and this woman took his head off.” The uniformed guy explained to his wide-eyed partner. “He was going to destroy her town.”

“Who?” He asked with a smile on his face.

“I think her name was Judith from Bethulia.” He completed the story.

“Where did you get all this from?” His partner asked.

“From the Bible.  My wife and I read it together.” He shrugged.

“Holy mackerel.” Womack felt as though he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. 

“Coming.” Sounded a voice from inside the apartment when Detective Womack rang the doorbell.  Slowly the woman opened the door, “Can I help you.” 

Womack flashed his badge, “Are you Judith Oakford?”

“Who is asking?” She appeared to be very alarmed when she saw the badge.

“Detective Womack from Baltimore Central.” He answered.

“What can I help you with?” She appeared as if she wanted to run away as she half shut the door.

“Did you know an individual named Troy Tonsick?” He put his hand on the door.

“Not familiar.” She shook her head.

“I have some emails that say you corresponded with him a month ago.” He squinted.

“I correspond with a lot of people.  I am in sales.” She smiled, but he could tell the smile was not true.

“Mr. Tonsick was found murdered.” He tilted his head.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She did not sound genuine.

“I have evidence that suggests you may know more than you’re telling me.” He pressed the door open. She began to panic.

“I can assure you that I had nothing to do with whatever happened to him.” She turned her head a bit so he could not see her facial expression,

“He was beheaded.” He said with a certain emphasis on the last word. 

“Oh my God…I don’t know anything about-” 

“Cut the crap, lady.” He sniffed. “I have evidence.  I did not have the final string until this afternoon.”

“I am going to call the police.” She was flustered. 

“I am the police.” He took a step toward her, “I am putting you under arrest for the brutal murder of Troy Tonsick.” 

It would come out in the trial that Judith Oakford did know the Old Testament story about Judith who beheaded the Assyrian king, put his head into a sack and had one of the servants dispose of it.  In a tearful confession, she explained why she had done it when the Mighty Holofernes had tried to force his way into her apartment.  She was able to fend him off and then planned to kill him at his own apartment.  She spoke of the horrible nightmares she had of him trying to seduce her.  The emails were explicit and graphic.  

“One night when he was playing his online game, I snuck in.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Why did you choose to murder him using such a weapon?” The prosecutor asked.

“It seemed only fitting that I followed my namesake, Judith, to the letter.” She looked over to where Detective Womack was sitting stroking his chin, “I was perceived as weak, due to my gender, but when provoked, I can be as strong as any man.  All my life I have been thought of as a physically weak woman, but when motivated bringing that sword down on him was no problem. When I brought it down, all of the rage and anger that I held in for my entire life, came roaring out of me when I made the perfect strike.  I watched his head roll across his carpet with that bewildered expression frozen on his face.”