Randy Owen Waller

CW: murder, gore, death of a child

“I don‘t know why it happened, what led up to it. The ’why’ of it, I still don’t get. I get the ‘how’, the ‘who, ‘when’, and the ‘where’. But ‘why’? I don’t know and I don’t think I’ll ever know. That may be a question that’ll be forever left unanswered.”

The man sat behind the screen with his hands in his lap, pressing his thumb rough against the inside of his palm over and over again. But even so, his stance was the epitome of calm. His face was completely relaxed, newly shaved, and his hair brushed back and out of his face.

"Do I need to say my name?" he asked politely, even leaning forward as if he was asking for a secret.

"Yes," the woman said. "Please state your name for the record."

"My name is Randy Waller and I am forty-five years old."

"Hello, Mr. Waller. I just want to interview you and ask a few questions. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, this is perfectly okay with me."

"Perfect, well let's get it started. Hello, Mr. Waller. It's nice to finally meet you. I can say that you have quite the reputation."

Randy laughed quietly, slightly muffled by the screen separating them. "I had no clue. However, if I do, it's not my fault."

"Oh, it's not?"

"Hell no. Nothing in this was ever my fault and if you are to write an article about anything that was said here, please make sure that that rings loud and true."

"I cannot promise anything, Mr. Waller." The reporter tilted her head to the side. In her left hand, she picks up a pen and starts to tap it lightly against her clipboard, thinking of how she wants this to go. "Let's start with a week before. Walk me through that."

"Sure. Let's start with that Tuesday. Tuesday was just another normal day. I woke up, got ready, and drove to my job. Then went home, had a dinner with my wife, and that was it. Simple day, nothing really notable to say. Wednesday was when it started, like officially."

"What do you mean by 'officially'?"

"Well, I mean that's the first day I meet Laura Baker."

The reporter marked a note down on her clipboard.

"So as I was saying, Wednesday, normal morning. I went to work, blah blah, came home and that's when I saw her for the first time. She wore a yellow sundress that was short and had her hair down.

“Now let me preface this by saying that we were on very good terms with our neighbors. We had game nights every other weekend and had monthly barbecues together. Our kids got along very well. My daughters, Eliza and Penny, who were seven and five at the time, got along very well with their children.

"But anyway, that was the first time I saw Laura Baker, so I rolled down the window of my car and asked her who she was. She told me that she was a cousin of one of the children, a niece of the father. So I smiled, waved, and pulled into my drive way. I think Laura was about five, around Penny's age."

"Other than the dress she wore and how she styled her hair, can you describe what five year old Laura looked like?" The reporter asked, pen ready in hand to make notes.

"Well, let's just say she was happy. Her hair was an auburn color and I remember there being freckles all over her face. Her eyes were an emerald green color. She was a small petite girl but her cheeks were quite puffy. She was just very. . .happy."

The reporter's pen scratched over the paper, writing in thick lines "happy". "Okay, let's continue on with the week. Did anything else happen on that Wednesday?"

"Umm," Randy paused, thinking. His fingers scratched his chin where a beard used to be but was now gone. "Oh! Actually there was something else that happened. One of the neighbor's children, a young boy, came over and asked for some eggs. Laura stood behind him, clearly wanting to be of some help. They said that they were baking a cake and forgot to buy some. But that's all that happened on Wednesday.”

"Around what time did they ask for eggs?"

"Around six to seven because the sun was still out."

The reporter had a running timeline in her notes of everything that happened, in his words of course.

"Thursday. I woke up to go to work around I'd estimate about six thirty in the morning, and I heard a knock at the door. I opened it and there was Laura and the boy. . .I keep forgetting his name. . . Oh! His name was Owen. Owen. So Owen and Laura was there with a slice of cake that they had baked. I can even recall the exact conversation we had.

"Laura said, 'Here! Auntie said that she wanted me to give you some of the cake we baked. It's red velvet with cream cheese frosting. I helped Auntie make it.'

"And then Owen said, 'I helped a little bit too!'

"Laura hit him in the arm and said, 'No, all you did was eat the frosting. Well I hope you like it, Mister. Have a great day!'

"And that was the end of that conversation. . .," Randy tilted his head downwards and took a deep breath.

"Okay, what happened at the end of that day? Anything?" the reporter inquired, trying to keep the interview going. Randy just shook his head 'no'. "Well, walk me through Friday."

"Friday, I took the day off of work. My wife and I had something planned for the kids. Before we left, I saw Eliza and Penny playing with Owen, Laura, and the neighbors two other children. . .yeah there were two others. I think they were girls around the same age. They were playing hide-and-go seek tag.

"My wife and I were going to take the girls to a picnic at a park. With my heavy work schedule, I never get a lot of time with my girls, so this was a special occasion. I remember my wife made us all peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I do not like jelly, so she made mine without. We packed lemonade and cookies. It was very fun.

"On the way home, we stopped by a convenience store to pick up some milk because we needed some. I remembered that Eliza's eight birthday coming up in a week and my wife and I were planning her party. We were thinking of having piñata. We had everything picked out, except I remembered that we were missing the rope, so I bought some at the store. That night, Eliza and Penny went back out to play with the neighbors."

"Did anything happen over the weekend?" she asked while writing down some notes about the convenience store, picnic, and his family.

"To be completely honest, I don't remember much happening over the weekend. I remember Penny having an episode. She broke her right arm the year before, which was her dominant hand, and ever since then, she started to favor her left hand. But she flips out whenever we tried to correct it and we tried to correct it that weekend. Let’s just say that it didn’t end well.

“Other than that, I mean it was a Formula One weekend, so I spent half the weekend watching the practices, qualifying, and race. While I was watching that, the kids were outside. They spent a lot of time outside that weekend. It might have been because Laura was there for a month."

"Where was the Formula One race?" Pen and paper ready.

"I do not remember. . ."

"How did you know Laura was there for a month?"

"I guess I heard it while I was outside sometime. I don't exactly know how I knew that."

"When were you ever outside with the children?"

"I guess that I do not remember that either."

"Okay, continue on," the reporter sighed. "So nothing else important happened that weekend?"

"No, nothing else happened that weekend. Monday morning was normal, going back to work, but Monday night. . .," Randy took a deep breath.

"Monday night I remember the kids playing hide-and-go-seek after dark. My wife gave them permission. We live in a safe neighborhood. It is a kid filled neighborhood, so there's always someone watching. I remember it was my turn to be on watch that night."

"It was your watch?"

"Yes. I didn't see anything out of the blue for a good while until I heard Owen screaming. Owen came running out of the forest with tears streaming down his face and his eyes were wide with fear. All he could say was 'Laura'. . ." Randy brought his hand up to his face to rub it against his cheek.

"How big was the forest? And where exactly was it?"

"It was right across the street and it was decently big. Perfect for hide-and-seek."

Randy took a deep breath, and another one, and then a third one.

"I followed Owen, running straight into the woods. I found Laura, tied up in rope, bleeding out from her throat. I dropped to the ground, on my knees, and after a while I looked over to Owen. When I looked at him again, I saw blood all over his white shirt, in his hair, on his hands. . . I saw the knife that slit her throat held in his hands. She was dead by the time I got there."

The silence in the area was thick and suffocating. Randy started cried, shaking, and huddling over his knees with his hands on his face. The reporter gave him a minute to get it out of his system, but he continued to shake, and continued to cry.

"Okay, Mr. Waller," the reporter sighed, crossing her legs, leaning forward, and putting down her clipboard.

"Yes?" he asked innocently, tears still streaking down his face, lip quivering.

"This is a bunch of bullshit."

Randy Waller's lip stopped quivering.

"You killed Laura Baker."

Randy Waller stopped crying.

"You killed Laura in cold blood."

Randy Waller stopped breathing.

"You took her while she was playing hide-and-go-seek and you tied her up in that rope. You then dragged her out to the forest, under the cover of darkness, and slit her throat. You stayed out all night digging, digging her grave, only to have her be uncovered that next morning. You took happy Laura's life away from her. You are a murder."

"But why would I kill her?" Randy cried, voice raising in both volume and pitch.

"Randy, you were not on good terms with your neighbors. Your neighbors, when interviewed, never even knew your name. And Randy. . . who again are Eliza and Penny?"

Randy blinked. "My daughters. They're twenty-two and twenty now."

The reporter stared Randy right in the eyes. "You have no daughters. Those are your neighbor's daughters. And you don‘t even have a wife either."

"No! They have Owen! And two girls just around Penny’s and Eliza’s age! Don’t try to take my girls away from me!”

"Mr. Waller," the reporter stood up. "I cannot take away your daughters if you never had them in the first place. And your neighbors, they had no son."

"You're trying to pin this on me. I am innocent! I have always been innocent! This is Owen's fault! Find Owen! I am innocent here!" Randy screamed.

"I am not the one you need to convince. You had to convince the people that you are innocent. And it didn't end very well did it?" she questioned, pointedly staring at his orange jump suit.

"Why would I kill a young girl?! I have lost everything! There would be no reason for me to kill her!" Randy started screaming and jumping at the screen which caused his guards to come into his room and re-cuff him. Before he was dragged back into his cell, the guards let the reporter have the last few words.

"Mr. Waller, how long ago was this?"

"It was fifteen years ago! I've been here for fifteen years!"

The reporter pushed in her chair and started to make her way towards the door. "Now that's where you're wrong, Mr. Waller. You've been here since you were seven. Do you know what the key to this crime is? The key that you didn't even know you left?

Mr. Waller stood there rigid and silent. The reporter was in the doorway to leave, as she was walking out, she said simply,

"Your middle name is Owen.”

Randy Owen Waller fell to the ground, as if coming to realize this crime by her words. It might have been acting on his part: to feign ignorance, a hint of innocence, and a good defensive case in court. Or it could be true, as if he was remembering something his subconscious buried from him.

“But more importantly, after talking to me for so long, do you know my name?”

Randy stared her right in the face. A flash of recognition flitted across his eyes.

“My name is Penny.”