{"id":362,"date":"2008-12-29T02:13:48","date_gmt":"2008-12-29T08:13:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/theproviso.com\/?page_id=362"},"modified":"2026-02-22T18:41:13","modified_gmt":"2026-02-22T23:41:13","slug":"25-to-life","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/extras\/vignettes-outtakes\/dirty-little-secrets\/25-to-life\/","title":{"rendered":"25 to Life"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

JUNE 8, 1994<\/p>\n

Knox: 25<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cON THE FIRST count of murder in the first degree, how does the jury find?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at the table, my vision too fuzzy to read the words on the paper in front of me. I could feel my heart pound in my chest so hard and fast I wondered if I was having a heart attack.<\/p>\n

At twenty-five.<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 second count of murder in the first degree, how does the jury find?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

My stomach heaved, like the mass of people in the gallery behind me who stood and screamed and roared.<\/p>\n

Rage.<\/p>\n

Me.<\/p>\n

Them.<\/p>\n

All of us.<\/p>\n

The pounding of the gavel echoed in the courtroom, echoed in my head. I felt a big hand on my shoulder. It squeezed comfort, but it wasn\u2019t enough.<\/p>\n

\u201cORDER IN THE COURT! BAILIFF!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

Still I sat as the crowd surged toward the man at the table across the imaginary aisle from me. I didn\u2019t dare look at him because I knew what I\u2019d see: Smug arrogance.<\/p>\n

My vision focused enough for me to read one line of the list I couldn\u2019t stop staring at.<\/p>\n

\n
LaVon Whittaker<\/em><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

One of the defendant\u2019s lovers.<\/p>\n

\n
Simone Whittaker<\/em><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

LaVon\u2019s thirteen-year-old daughter.<\/p>\n

I suspected LaVon knew more about the defendant\u2019s hobby than she\u2019d admitted to, but it wouldn\u2019t matter to him; it never did. He\u2019d killed them when he was done with them, every last one. LaVon Whittaker wouldn\u2019t die tonight<\/em>, but someone on this list would. Just as soon as the next seventeen verdicts were read and the defendant was released.<\/p>\n

\u201cCLEAR THE COURTROOM!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

I vaguely wondered if Nocek had fixed this case behind my back somehow. Sheriff Raines. He might have done it, taken the evidence, but I wasn\u2019t sure he was that smart. I also wasn\u2019t sure if Nocek was stupid enough to sabotage a case that, if won, would reflect well on him enough that he wouldn\u2019t have to stuff so many ballot boxes. I really couldn\u2019t be sure, but I would have preferred to believe Nocek had sabotaged me than to believe \u2026 a mistake.<\/p>\n

Just a small, stupid mistake.<\/p>\n

And not mine.<\/p>\n

That big hand left my shoulder as the people in the gallery were herded outside like cows to slaughter, protesting all the way. A small, soft hand grazed across my back and then that, too, left me. No, Sebastian, Giselle! Don\u2019t go, please don\u2019t go! I need you with me.<\/em><\/p>\n

The courtroom doors thudded closed.<\/p>\n

Other than the jury and the bailiffs, there were only four people in the room: the judge, the defendant, the defendant\u2019s lawyer, and \u2026 me.<\/p>\n

Alone.<\/p>\n

Having failed to get justice for the nineteen women and girls who had spent the last year crawling out of their graves into my nightmares\u2014if I had the audacity to sleep\u2014to beg me to give it to them.<\/p>\n

Having failed to keep another slew of people safe.<\/p>\n

One of the women or girls on the list in front of me would die tonight. The rest would follow her, one by one, until he was stopped.<\/p>\n

Again.<\/p>\n

And it would be my fault.<\/p>\n

\n

\u201c \u2026 third count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jamie McElroy<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 fourth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Anita Sterling<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 fifth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Susanna Chase<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 sixth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Valerie Nottingham<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 seventh count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Penny Hendricks<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 eighth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Christy Madison<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 ninth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sharon Gentry<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 tenth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Charlene Lawrence<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 eleventh count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Allison Martino<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 twelfth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Cindy Trusdale<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 thirteenth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Gabriela Jorge<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 fourteenth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sandra Jenson<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 fifteenth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Justina Phillips<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 sixteenth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Octavia Mitchell<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 seventeenth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Patty Davis<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 eighteenth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Loretta Jones<\/p>\n

\u201c \u2026 nineteenth count \u2026 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot guilty.\u201d<\/p>\n

Maureen Givens<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

I still sat, numb, thinking about those nineteen women, two of whom were girls who hadn\u2019t even reached puberty and four more not even eighteen.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, Mr. Parley,\u201d Judge Wilson intoned, his voice weary. \u201cYou\u2019re free to go. I\u2019d like to thank the members of the jury for their service.\u201d<\/p>\n

CLAP!<\/em><\/p>\n

Judge Wilson heaved himself out of his seat and trudged to his chambers, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed.<\/p>\n

The jury box emptied under armed supervision, as those people would need armed escorts to get out of the courthouse, past the reporters, and home safely.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t even react when the defendant, after clasping his attorney in a jolly bear hug, walked by me and gave me a hearty clap on the back.<\/p>\n

\u201cYa did a good job, son,\u201d he said, his voice full of the merriment and charm that convinced women he was a decent man. \u201cJust not good enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

I swallowed. Hard.<\/p>\n

He laughed his way down the aisle to the courtroom doors where armed deputies would escort him off the courthouse property to his car and see that he<\/em> made it home alive, to keep him from the mob that wanted to lynch him, like it was 1840 or something.<\/p>\n

The courtroom was empty.<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n

The crime scene photographs flashed across my mind.<\/p>\n

\u201cKnox?\u201d<\/p>\n

I closed my eyes at the sound of that voice and breathed a sigh of almost-relief. I could barely hear her footsteps, but then she was there, that familiar perfume in my nose. She ran her fingers through my hair and I took a deep breath, the way she\u2019d taught me. In through the nose, out through the mouth.<\/p>\n

Focus.<\/p>\n

Visualize.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow can I help you?\u201d she murmured.<\/p>\n

Make love with me.<\/em><\/p>\n

My eyes popped open. It was the first time I\u2019d ever really meant<\/em> it. I\u2019d said it before, naturally, then laughed. Made her laugh. As a joke. Because, even though we slept together occasionally, the thought was just so \u2026 strange.<\/p>\n

So impossible.<\/p>\n

Where<\/em> had it come from?<\/p>\n

I\u2019d read a story once. Stephen King. \u201cThe Mist.\u201d It introduced me to the concept of comfort sex. Anyone would do. To fifteen-year-old me, with my quest to wait until marriage to have sex, it was unfathomable.<\/p>\n

Now I got it.<\/p>\n

\u201cGiselle,\u201d I whispered, unable to speak any louder; I simply wasn\u2019t capable of it. I\u2019d spent my voice doing what prosecutors do. \u201cWhat would you<\/em> do if you were the one sitting here?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her hand stilled, then slowly fisted in my hair, her knuckles hard against my scalp.<\/p>\n

She slid the list of names out from under my hand and picked it up.<\/p>\n

\u201cLaVon Whittaker,\u201d she read in a tone I\u2019d never heard for myself, and I shuddered. The answer was right there, in her voice. \u201cShe\u2019s still alive, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded. All the names on that list were. How long it would take him to kill them all\u2014 Well, now, that was what I didn\u2019t know.<\/p>\n

\u201cEvie Winslow. Samantha Rodriguez. Donna Franklin \u2026 \u201d And on and on and on she went until the last name faded into the silence of the darkening courtroom. Then she flipped the piece of paper back onto the table, retrieved her other hand from my hair, and said, \u201cWell. I guess I\u2019ll get going.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

She stopped. \u201cNo?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked up at her then, into those ice blue eyes just like mine, into that pale chubby face I knew so well, surrounded by all that strawberry blonde frizz she\u2019d never been able to tame. She pursed her lips. Took a deep breath through her nose. Held it. Stared at the table. Released it through her mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cI take it you aren\u2019t going to Dallas in September after all, then?\u201d<\/p>\n

My chest caved in.<\/p>\n

Dallas.<\/p>\n

The temple.<\/p>\n

To take out my endowment, like I should\u2019ve done when I was nineteen.<\/p>\n

She knew.<\/p>\n

She was the only one who could have known, would\u2019ve been able to see it in my face, the idea taking root the instant that irreparable hole had been shot through the heart of my case\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess not.\u201d<\/p>\n

She cleared her throat. \u201cDo you \u2026 want some \u2026 uh, company?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

She squatted awkwardly beside my chair. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to do this, Knox,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat would you<\/em> do?\u201d I repeated, returning her look, not backing down.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, but you don\u2019t have to do it alone. Let me help you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat. Would. You<\/em>. Do.\u201d<\/p>\n

She bit her lip.<\/p>\n

Looked away.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a\u2014 Um.\u201d She cleared her throat again. \u201cThere\u2019s a man I know. At the barbershop on the corner of Belmont and Truman. He\u2019s expecting me. Well. You. I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n

I grasped her to me tight and she began to cry.<\/p>\n

I only wished I could.<\/p>\n

\u201cGISELLE.\u201d<\/p>\n

The barber nodded, no other words between us. When I dug in my pocket for money, he waved it away and flashed a sign at me. I didn\u2019t know if that meant he had already been paid or if he didn\u2019t want to be paid. It was one of those things I probably would never know and didn\u2019t need to anyway.<\/p>\n

He let me out the back door of his shop as silently as he had let me in and I walked up the alley and the six half-blocks to 17th Street, where I\u2019d parked in the rec center lot. The merchandise hung heavy in my pocket and I realized just how long it had been since I\u2019d owned something like it.<\/p>\n

Held one.<\/p>\n

Used one.<\/p>\n

I was so out of practice.<\/p>\n

Empty your mind.<\/em><\/p>\n

I emptied my mind.<\/p>\n

Then think about the pictures.<\/em><\/p>\n

I dug a Polaroid out of my pocket, swiped from my case file long ago, when I had used it as a locus as I prayed for guidance while I prepared for trial.<\/p>\n

Please, Heavenly Father, guide me so I can get a conviction. Please let me get justice for these people.<\/em><\/p>\n

I looked at that poor woman, laid out bare, bloody, broken.<\/p>\n

I choked.<\/p>\n

Put it back in my pocket. Not now.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d failed her.<\/p>\n

Recite the victims\u2019 names.<\/em><\/p>\n

Jamie McElroy Anita Sterling Susanna Chase Valerie Nottingham Penny Hendricks Christy Madison Sharon Gentry Charlene Lawrence Allison Martino Cindy Trusdale Gabriela Jorge Sandra Jenson Justina Phillips Octavia Mitchell Patty Davis Loretta Jones Maureen Givens<\/p>\n

Think about your weapon.<\/em><\/p>\n

Glock nine-millimeter.<\/p>\n

Visualize it.<\/em><\/p>\n

Matte black.<\/p>\n

Feel it in your hand with your mind.<\/em><\/p>\n

My hands gripped the steering wheel as I drove west, then north across the Broadway Bridge, up the Broadway Extension, I-29, past KCI.<\/p>\n

Remember, there\u2019s no safety on a Glock like on a revolver or a rifle. The trigger will catch about a third of the way through the pull. You have to pull through that all the way the first time. Do it fast and don\u2019t hesitate.<\/em><\/p>\n

I pulled off I-29 in Chouteau City, like it was daylight, like I was going to work.<\/p>\n

Like I\u2019d go to work in a few hours, as if nothing had happened.<\/p>\n

There\u2019ll be a round in the chamber, so whatever you do, don\u2019t draw the slide or you\u2019ll jam it.<\/em><\/p>\n

I felt it in my jacket pocket, still heavy against my hip.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t get fancy. Don\u2019t get arrogant. Don\u2019t go for a long-drawn-out vengeance or try to get some Scooby-Doo confession. Just do the job and leave.<\/em><\/p>\n

The light turned green and I drove slowly into the trailer park, past the Whittaker trailer where his car was parked, though not for long, I was sure. I didn\u2019t really know how long I had, but I went back to the courthouse and parked in my usual spot.<\/p>\n

Nothing unusual about that; I\u2019d been pulling late nights and overnights for the last year.<\/p>\n

I shook out my keys, unlocked the courthouse doors, gave my usual salute to the usual half-asleep deputy, and jogged up the stairs as usual\u2014<\/p>\n

\u2014and promptly stole through Nocek\u2019s office to his back staircase and sneaked out the back way, keeping to the shadows and attempting not to let the world know how loudly I breathed.<\/p>\n

I ran all the way back to the trailer park, where his car sat empty, waiting for him to leave his lover\u2019s house.<\/p>\n

It was an old junker, a yacht. Its locks didn\u2019t work. I slipped in the back seat and hunkered down on the floor, covering myself up with the blanket I knew he\u2019d have there.<\/p>\n

Because I knew his habits.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t let your anger get the better of you. Keep it cold. You\u2019re just doing your job.<\/em><\/p>\n

One way or another.<\/p>\n

Breathe in your nose and out your mouth. Slowly. Relax.<\/em><\/p>\n

I must have relaxed myself right into a doze because the next thing I knew, the yacht was shaking slightly, the car door squeaked open, and low chuckles came my way when he got in and shoved the key in the ignition.<\/p>\n

\u201cStupid cunt,\u201d he muttered.<\/p>\n

Track where you go in your mind.<\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019d expected him to go straight home, but he stopped to get gas\u2014<\/p>\n

\u2014and was damn near assaulted by the good citizens of Chouteau City who might have done my job for me had there not been a couple of state troopers in the parking lot, on break.<\/p>\n

Screams, obscenities, shouts, and threats.<\/p>\n

Apparently, the troopers waded into the m\u00eal\u00e9e to break it up, but it seemed to me a half-hearted attempt on their part.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet lost, asshole,\u201d one of them growled low. \u201cWe\u2019re watching you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He laughed heartily, as if the trooper had told a good joke, but he drove off without getting gas and then he hissed, \u201cShit\u201d to no one.<\/p>\n

And then we turned toward his home, down a long country gravel road, then left onto an equally long gravel driveway. I knew that because I knew everything about him.<\/p>\n

I hope you\u2019ve thought this through.<\/em><\/p>\n

No.<\/p>\n

For once.<\/p>\n

Because if I had, I wouldn\u2019t be here right now.<\/p>\n

The yacht shook and shuddered as first the rusty door creaked open and then he struggled to get out of the seat and then he slammed the door closed behind him, muttering all the way about his plans for the night being interrupted.<\/p>\n

I had him.<\/p>\n

It was possible there were others out in the woods with the same intention, but that only meant I\u2019d know who not to charge in the morning.<\/p>\n

He turned when I opened the car door; I don\u2019t know if he saw who I was or not, but I felt his smug arrogance turning into \u2026 something else.<\/p>\n

Fear.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019re you?\u201d he barked before he could see my face in the intermittent moonlight.<\/p>\n

Empty your mind. Focus.<\/em><\/p>\n

I bored the barrel of my gun into his forehead and said, \u201cGet on your knees.\u201d<\/p>\n

He caught me off guard when he did exactly what I told him to do, when he began to blubber like a little kid caught stealing candy from QuikTrip.<\/p>\n

No theatrics. You\u2019re there to get the job done.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cLook, Hilliard, I\u2019m sorry, you know\u2014 I didn\u2019t mean to get all up in your face today in court, really\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you think that\u2019s why I\u2019m here?\u201d I asked, feeling rage swell up in me, a killing rage, a rage I had never known.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t let your anger get the better of you. Anger destroys your focus and makes you do stupid shit. Just get the job done.<\/em><\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t help it.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want to live?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. Yes! I got grandkids, yanno?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo did half the women you killed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, I\u2019ll move away. Anything, just\u2014 Put the gun down now, son. You know what\u2019ll happen to you. You\u2019ll go to prison and won\u2019t they just love you, all young and pretty, big blond boy that you are.\u201d<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t let him speak. He\u2019ll rattle you. Just get the job done and get out. One shot.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cBeg.\u201d<\/p>\n

He paused a beat. Changed his tactic. \u201cAh, son, now look. If you ain\u2019t shot me yet, you ain\u2019t gonna.\u201d<\/p>\n

I shot him in the left thigh.<\/p>\n

He howled. The gunshot echoed around the woods and rang back at me.<\/p>\n

I shot him in the right thigh.<\/p>\n

He fell to the ground and rolled, curled up in a ball and began to cry.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet. Back. On. Your. Knees.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t kill me,\u201d he sobbed as he struggled to his knees. \u201cPlease don\u2019t kill me. It ain\u2019t my time yet and I cain\u2019t\u2014\u201d He struggled more, the hole in his thigh gushing. \u201cI cain\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPut your hands behind your head.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHilliard, boy, I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOn your knees. Hands behind your head.\u201d<\/p>\n

He struggled. I allowed him to struggle, to cry like a little girl.<\/p>\n

Then he was on his knees, barely, and his hands were locked behind his head, sort of, and he looked up at me, his desperation lit by the moon as the clouds moved, as if it had been perfectly timed for my little stage drama here.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t kill me, don\u2019t kill me, don\u2019t kill me,\u201d he panted and cried, terrified.<\/p>\n

Empty your mind. Pull the trigger all the way through the catch. Fast, firm, once. Don\u2019t stop.<\/em><\/p>\n

It\u2019s a different thing to know that a shooter will end up with his victim\u2019s blood on him than to feel the warmth and smell the copper and hear the ringing in your ears yourself.<\/p>\n

I had never felt so cold in my life as I did looking down at Tom Parley\u2019s body, the back of his head blown off, but his eyes open, his expression frozen in supplication for mercy.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t think about it. Empty your mind. Keep the gun and get away as fast as you can.<\/em><\/p>\n

I dropped the gun back in my jacket pocket, grabbed the blanket I had hidden in, then turned and jogged back up the long driveway to the country road. I stopped short when I saw a car on the side of the road, dark, quiet, looking for all the world as if it had been abandoned.<\/p>\n

The engine came to life. The door swung open, the interior glow the only light other than the moon.<\/p>\n

She said nothing, but held her hand out for the blanket and helped me smooth it over her car seat that she\u2019d already wrapped in plastic.<\/p>\n

I got in.<\/p>\n

Closed the door.<\/p>\n

She remained silent as she zipped down the road in the dark, headlights off, then west with the lights on, away from town and only a mile to Kansas.<\/p>\n

By the time we crossed the state line, I was freezing. My teeth were beginning to chatter and I drew the blanket around me. She turned off the air conditioning and rolled down the windows. In June in Missouri\u2014well, Kansas\u2014it was hot and humid enough that it should have warmed me up, but I knew I was going into shock.<\/p>\n

She knew it, too.<\/p>\n

I could never have done this on my own and I was stupid for thinking I could.<\/p>\n

She caught I-435 south and carefully eased off the accelerator, being very careful not to attract any attention by speeding. She had her radar detector on and it seemed a very, very long time before we got to I-70 and headed back east into Missouri, then into downtown Kansas City.<\/p>\n

She parked at the freight dock of her bookstore and got out, came around to my side, helped me out. I was still freezing, shaking.<\/p>\n

What have I done?<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cShhh.\u201d<\/p>\n

She helped me to the concrete stairs where there was a railing I could hold onto to climb them.<\/p>\n

I murdered a man.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cShut up.\u201d<\/p>\n

I have no hope now.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cLet the Lord worry about that. Watch my hands. Concentrate on what I\u2019m doing. Don\u2019t think about anything else.\u201d<\/p>\n

I did that.<\/p>\n

She shoved a key into the lock over the freight elevator buttons, pulled it up, then shoved another key into the button pad. The elevator whirred to life. She used a third key to open the gate, then pulled on the strap of the doors. She maneuvered me into the elevator, kept her foot on the door, closed and locked the button pad. She closed and locked the gate, then closed the elevator doors. The floor shifted, jerked, protested as it pulled us up through the shaft.<\/p>\n

I still shivered and she wrapped her arms around me.<\/p>\n

Riding Giselle\u2019s freight elevator had never seemed such an arduous and painstaking and long process before, and I pondered that a while. It was a good thing to ponder: Did it need repairs? Did it need replaced? I couldn\u2019t imagine why she wouldn\u2019t have taken care of the elevator the way she took care of everything else at Decadence. Surely Maisy or Coco would have noticed how slow and decrepit it was \u2026 ?<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know or remember how I got to the bathroom, all stark white with yellow tile accents, yellow towels, yellow flowers, yellow candles and I realized\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cYellow. Your favorite color is yellow.\u201d Shouldn\u2019t I have known that?<\/p>\n

She thunked me down hard on the toilet lid and turned to start the shower.<\/p>\n

\u201cGiselle, I think I\u2019m going to hell.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe don\u2019t believe in hell,\u201d she said shortly as she knelt at my feet and took off my Nikes.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, not that burning lake of fire thing, but still\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKnox, be quiet. You\u2019re in shock. I\u2019ll be right back. Stay right where you are. Don\u2019t get up, don\u2019t move, don\u2019t fall over.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silly girl.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t fall over while sitting on a toilet seat.<\/p>\n

Ow! Shit!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cKnox!\u201d<\/p>\n

She helped me back up onto the toilet seat and shoved a half gallon jug of orange juice in my hand. \u201cOh, thank you!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHave you eaten today at all?\u201d<\/p>\n

I shook my head as I gulped. I\u2019d forgotten to.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll hopped up on adrenaline. Your blood sugar\u2019s in the tank, to boot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo shit, Sherlock,\u201d I quipped, but she slapped me upside the head and started taking the blanket away from me. \u201cI\u2019m cold, Giselle.\u201d I knew I was whining and I didn\u2019t care. I was<\/em> cold, dammit.<\/p>\n

\u201cKnox, if you pass out, we can\u2019t take you to the hospital. You\u2019re soaked in blood and we have to get you cleaned up. C\u2019mon, please,\u201d she said, pleading. \u201cDrink your OJ and let me get this stuff taken care of.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at her then, really looked. \u201cYour face is wet.\u201d<\/p>\n

She sniffled and ran the back of her hand across her nose. \u201cYeah, I know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay. Weird.\u201d<\/p>\n

She seemed so \u2026 sad<\/em> \u2026 and I couldn\u2019t figure out why. I had to think about that a while because it wasn\u2019t like her to not tell me why she was sad, but I figured if it would make her happy to see me shiver, then that\u2019s what I\u2019d have to do.<\/p>\n

\u2019Cause it was my job to make her happy.<\/p>\n

She stuffed the blanket in a heavy black trash bag, then threw my shoes in there after them.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, those are almost brand new.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBuy another pair.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGiselle, are you mad at me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo! I\u2019m not mad<\/em> at you, Knox. Stand up for a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stood up, but when she went to unbutton my fly, I panicked and pushed her away. \u201cGiselle! What are you trying to do? I\u2019m going to the temple in September, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n

She stopped, stared at me, eyes wide and mouth open. \u201cShit!<\/em>\u201d Then she pursed her lips and ripped my fly open, had me half naked before I could stop her.<\/p>\n

\u201cGiselle\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShut up,\u201d she snapped. \u201cShut the fuck<\/em> up and drink your juice before you end up in the emergency room anyway. You know<\/em> you\u2019re not supposed to go that long without eating, you shithead.\u201d<\/p>\n

Oh, she really was mad and for the life of me, I couldn\u2019t figure out why.<\/p>\n

She put my clothes in the same bag as the blanket and the shoes, and left with it. I just sat there on the toilet, buck naked, shivering, chugging orange juice until she came back, although if she thought she could seduce me, she had another think coming.<\/p>\n

But she<\/em> still had her clothes on. I bet she<\/em> was plenty warm enough.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you stand up for more than thirty seconds without falling over?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked up at her, all mad and pretty. Pretty mad, anyway.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Mother,\u201d I sneered.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen get in the shower. Scrub until you don\u2019t have any skin left.\u201d<\/p>\n

That took a while because the stupid skin just would not<\/em> come off. But I did feel better and not cold anymore and besides, there wasn\u2019t any more hot water.<\/p>\n

I found Giselle\u2019s yellow bathrobe and put it on\u2014 \u201cOh, fuck you, too,\u201d I said to my smirking reflection. \u2014walked through Giselle\u2019s bedroom to her living room-kitchenette, and stopped short when I saw Sebastian pacing frantically, running his hands through his hair.<\/p>\n

Giselle was sitting on the floor in front of the dishwasher, her head back, her eyes closed, her hands limp on either side of her. Her whole body shook with her sobbing.<\/p>\n

\u201cKnox!\u201d Sebastian barked. I looked at him, confused. \u201cDo you remember what happened tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I\u2014\u201d I stopped. Thought about that a minute. No, what had<\/em> happened tonight? Why was I at Giselle\u2019s? And on a work night. I looked at Sebastian. The room started to turn a bit. \u201cI think\u2014\u201d Shit, now I was dizzy. I really should\u2019ve eaten something. \u201cI think there\u2019s something wrong with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I WOKE UP IN Giselle\u2019s bed.<\/p>\n

I knew that was where I was because of the perfume and because her mattress was softer than mine. I kept begging to buy it from her, but she kept refusing.<\/p>\n

I started to get a weird feeling about it all when I saw sunlight on the floor. I never slept past sunrise, even in the summer; it was a habit since I\u2019d started surfing because I needed to be on my board paddling out by sunrise to get the best waves. I jerked over and looked at the clock.<\/p>\n

\u201cShit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nocek was going to tear my head off, and not figuratively, either. It was eleven o\u2019clock in the morning\u2014Thursday<\/em> morning\u2014and here I was, still sleeping. In River Market, a good twenty-five miles from Chouteau City.<\/p>\n

I tried to clear my head, to start from the beginning, to figure out why I was where I was and when\u2014<\/p>\n

Empty your mind.<\/em><\/p>\n

I barely made it to the bathroom before I puked.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know how long I sat there on the freshly bleached bathroom floor (not that it would do much good) in front of the toilet, just in case, toothbrush in my hand, before Giselle appeared in the doorway. She looked at me, then at the toilet and murmured,<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess you remembered.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything?\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cNocek\u2019s probably looking for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded.<\/p>\n

She sighed. \u201cI don\u2019t know what to do, Knox. Let you hide out here or make you go back to work like nothing happened. Thing is, if you stay here, people will think you cracked up after the verdict yesterday\u2014not that anybody\u2019d blame you. But if you go back to work, you might actually crack up and say something you shouldn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at her. \u201cYou mean, they\u2019re not looking for me because\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs far as I can tell, nobody knows anything except you\u2019re AWOL.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy car is still at the courthouse.\u201d<\/p>\n

She shook her head. \u201cSebastian and I went and got it. It\u2019s parked in front of your house like it\u2019s supposed to be.\u201d<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t wrap my head around it, any of it.<\/p>\n

What I\u2019d done.<\/p>\n

What I\u2019d have to do.<\/p>\n

What would happen to me.<\/p>\n

What I\u2019d lost.<\/p>\n

\u201cGiselle,\u201d I whispered as the enormity of it all began to drift down on me. \u201cI murdered a man in cold blood.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her mouth tightened. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t cold.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt wasn\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe needed to die,\u201d she snarled so viciously I shrank away from her, but she followed me, got in my face. \u201cI wanted you to let me do it so you wouldn\u2019t have to go through this, so you could go to the temple and you could be the funny and sweet and warm Knox Hilliard I\u2019ve always known. You\u2019ve changed. Ever since you caught that case, you\u2019ve been changing and it\u2019s not pretty. I wish you had let me do this.\u201d<\/p>\n

I gaped at her, feeling every level of every implication of every word she said\u2014and getting pissed off. \u201cYou wanted to protect<\/em> me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes! No! I don\u2019t know! I wanted you back, Knox. I wanted the boy I grew up with. My best friend. I wanted him back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck you, Giselle!\u201d I got to my feet, but I swayed because I still hadn\u2019t eaten. She grasped my wrist to pull me out of the bathroom but I shook her off. \u201cFuck you, Giselle. You think you\u2019re somehow more of a \u2026 badass<\/em>\u2014\u201d Shit, I couldn\u2019t think. Couldn\u2019t find words. \u201c\u2014than I am and you need to protect<\/em> me? Because I\u2019m weaker<\/em> than you are? Because you went tagging after St. Sebastian for years and then went to BYU and decided you were some kind of special super-secret ninja shit something? And that it\u2019s your job to protect\u2014everybody\u2014and to hell<\/em> with your<\/em> soul because \u2026 why? Oh, so we can protect poor little pussy Knox from the world? Because he\u2019s just not as tough as you and St. Sebastian are? Because he\u2019s the Dunham tribe\u2019s cute little fuzzy golden retriever puppy? Golden retriever Knox, does exactly what he\u2019s told, never talks back, never gets in trouble, never\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, look! It\u2019s St. Sebastian, as I live and breathe.\u201d I tried to make an elaborate bow, but it wasn\u2019t working in the small bathroom.<\/p>\n

\u201cGiz, you\u2019ve got a customer here to pick up a special order and Coco can\u2019t find it. I\u2019ll take care of him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, fuck you, you will not. I can take care of myself.\u201d<\/p>\n

But I couldn\u2019t because as soon as Giselle turned away, I nearly fell over.<\/p>\n

And St. Sebastian caught me.<\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019mon, pal,\u201d he murmured as he wrapped my arm around his shoulder and led me into the kitchen. \u201cYou need to eat.\u201d<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know if I\u2019d ever be able to eat anything ever again.<\/p>\n

\u201cI hate to tell you this,\u201d Sebastian said as he rummaged in the refrigerator and pulled out a casserole pan, then eyed me dubiously, \u201cbut yellow\u2019s not your color.\u201d<\/p>\n

That made me laugh. A little. \u201cSo, what, you\u2019re going to lecture me, too? That I should\u2019ve let Giselle do my dirty work, clean up after me? As usual.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He pursed his mouth and dumped a huge spoonful of potato casserole into a dish. \u201cNope.\u201d<\/p>\n

That surprised me, but the casserole caught my attention. \u201cYou know what they call those in Utah, don\u2019t you?\u201d He looked up at me, surprised, and I gestured to the pan. \u201cFuneral potatoes. That\u2019s what they call \u2019em in Utah because the Relief Society serves it at all the funeral dinners. Not \u2018favorite potatoes\u2019 like we do. You\u2019re feeding me funeral potatoes. How freaky is that?\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian just stared at me, clearly unable to figure out how to respond to that. \u201cYou know, I don\u2019t give a fuck what they\u2019re called,\u201d he finally said, turning away from me and dumping more into the bowl. \u201cYou like \u2019em and Giselle made \u2019em for you and you\u2019re gonna eat \u2019em.\u201d The beeps of the microwave buttons only undercut the tense silence. \u201cAs for lecturing you,\u201d Sebastian said low as he busied himself wiping down the countertops. Fucking neat freak. \u201cI can think of several hundred worse things than putting a serial killer in the ground. And you\u2019re right, it wasn\u2019t<\/em> her job to do. It was yours.\u201d<\/p>\n

I started. \u201cYou\u2014 You don\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKnox, you saved at least twenty-three lives last night. Extrapolate that twenty-three to the people who loved them and what might have happened to their<\/em> lives, having to live with that. Maybe some of those people\u2019ll become doctors or do cancer research or something, save other people\u2019s lives. You start adding all those numbers up, it\u2019s going to get into the thousands, and you gave another nineteen people\u2019s families and friends justice and maybe, closure. You did the right thing. Not only was it your responsibility, it was your right. Not hers.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at Sebastian, shocked.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat she wanted to protect you from,\u201d he continued, \u201cwas this, the emotional fallout. Yeah, you are the favorite child of the tribe, the perfect kid. Okay, the golden retriever puppy. I see your point and it sucks. And now, going from that to \u2026 this. Yes<\/em>, I\u2019m proud of you, what you did, that you risked everything to do the right thing, but this is going to be a rough several years for you yet. I don\u2019t know what\u2019s going to happen to you, what the tribe will think, but Giselle and I will stand with you. I\u2019ll hire the best defense lawyers in the country if it comes to that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Proud<\/em>. But \u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cI was going to go to the temple in September.\u201d<\/p>\n

It stabbed me in the chest. I wouldn\u2019t be able to go now.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d murdered a man and, granted, while it wasn\u2019t exactly one of the temple recommend questions, it\u2019d fall under \u201cunresolved issues\u201d and how could I explain that?<\/p>\n

Well, you see, Bishop Hooper, there was this serial killer who got acquitted \u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

Bishop Hooper, I brought in some photographs for you and a bit of the transcript of the medical examiner\u2019s testimony \u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

I hate to do this to you, Bishop Hooper, but this is a list of his next twenty-three victims. Read all the names very carefully \u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

The microwave beeped and Sebastian turned, mixed up the potatoes into an unrecognizable mess and put it in front of me. Then he poured me a big mug of milk.<\/p>\n

I opened my mouth\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cNo orange juice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2014and snapped it shut again.<\/p>\n

Sebastian lazed at the table playing solitaire while I ate and listened to the faint noises of commerce going on downstairs.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened to my clothes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBurned,\u201d Sebastian answered shortly.<\/p>\n

I nodded. Didn\u2019t know where, didn\u2019t know how or when. It only mattered that it was done.<\/p>\n

\u201cGun?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGone.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at him, all calm sitting there looking at his cards like he had to think about it. \u201cYou do know that you\u2019re just as guilty as I am now, right? I get the needle, so do you and Giselle.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sebastian nodded and played a card. \u201cI guess that means you better keep your remorse and any potential confessions to yourself, doesn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n

I stared at him, but he didn\u2019t bother to look back at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe tell-tale heart,\u201d I muttered.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s your life now. Get used to it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I FINALLY CALLED Nocek, expecting the worst\u2014<\/p>\n

\u201cGood to hear from you, boy!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2014and nearly fell off the bed or dropped the phone or both.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry about what happened in court yesterday, but I\u2019m sure you\u2019ll be back up on your game in no time, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

My game? He hated my game. I almost always won and winning didn\u2019t make Nocek any money. He hated me because<\/em> of my game.<\/p>\n

\u201cUh\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSay, why don\u2019t you go ahead and take tomorrow off, too? Come back Monday. Spend the weekend getting all relaxed and whatnot.\u201d<\/p>\n

I actually pulled the phone away from my head to look at it. I thought people only did that in sitcoms for comic effect. \u201cUh\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou ain\u2019t been watching the news, haveya?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh, no. No, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFound Parley dead.\u201d My stomach lurched. \u201cExecution-style murder. The press is all over it. You know, Hilliard,\u201d he said slowly, his voice suddenly dropping half a scale, \u201ceverybody<\/em> loves a vigilante.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUm \u2026 Okay?\u201d I whispered, confused, disoriented, unable to form a coherent sentence that would contribute to the conversation.<\/p>\n

\u201cEven the feds<\/em> love a vigilante.\u201d<\/p>\n

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Yeah, I knew he was trying to tell me something but I couldn\u2019t figure out what right then.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo why don\u2019t you stay wherever it is you\u2019re stayin\u2019, get laid or sumpin\u2019, come back Monday ready to roll out on another good-sized case, \u2019cause you know, boy, I always knew you\u2019d come through and do some really good work for me one of these days.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was lying awake in bed, looking up at the ceiling, my forearm across my forehead.<\/p>\n

Empty your mind.<\/em><\/p>\n

Yeah, I liked that. It wasn\u2019t too bad, really.<\/p>\n

Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow, easy.<\/em><\/p>\n

Maybe there was something to that special super-secret ninja shit.<\/p>\n

Concentrate on relaxing one joint at a time, starting in your toes. Keep breathing.<\/em><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know how long I laid there like that, but Decadence had closed two hours ago. Maisy and Coco were just leaving. I heard Giselle on the stairs, then coming through the door, locking the door behind her, walking across the living room to the bedroom, across the bedroom to the bathroom\u2014all without saying a word to me.<\/p>\n

I wondered if I\u2019d lost my best friend in the world because I didn\u2019t want her to protect<\/em> me.<\/p>\n

The shower began and I listened, but really, I started to remember all the times she\u2019d watched my back, covered for me and taken punishment for things I\u2019d done because no one in the tribe would believe I was that obnoxious\u2014<\/p>\n

\u2014or because whatever she<\/em> did would get blamed on Sebastian and he\u2019d just take it like it was his due.<\/p>\n

Perhaps it was just natural for her to think she needed to protect me, and I hated<\/em> that.<\/p>\n

The Dunham tribe\u2019s golden retriever. Fetch, Knox. Carry, Knox. Sit up, Knox. Roll over, Knox. Shake hands, Knox. Good boy, Knox. Here\u2019s your treat.<\/em><\/p>\n

No, I never got a treat, but if I was lucky, I\u2019d get a scratch on the head.<\/p>\n

The covers whooshed and the bed shifted.<\/p>\n

Ah, so she wasn\u2019t mad enough at me to give up a good night\u2019s sleep on her perfect mattress. I almost had to smile.<\/p>\n

Empty your mind.<\/em><\/p>\n

I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her close in to me, where she\u2019d been half my life, and she yawned. \u201cIt\u2019s been a long day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Giselle,\u201d I whispered, unable to figure out how I could ever express my gratitude for her help, because I\u2019d surely be dead or behind bars right now without it.<\/p>\n

She patted me. \u201cJustice has a very high price,\u201d she whispered. \u201cSome people are just more willing to pay it than others. And whether you get caught or not, you\u2019ll be paying for the rest of your life.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sighed. \u201cEternity.\u201d<\/p>\n

She said nothing for a moment. \u201cThere is<\/em> something to that \u2018instrument of the Lord\u2019s vengeance\u2019 thing, yanno.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s your special super-secret ninja shit talking.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKenpo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhatever.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor what it\u2019s worth, I think Grandpa would have been very proud of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stopped breathing, but my heart continued to pound long after Giselle went to sleep.<\/p>\n

I DIDN\u2019T MAKE it back to Chouteau County Monday.<\/p>\n

Or for the next two months, after Governor Carnahan dragged my ass over a cheese grater, then suspended me without pay.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know how anyone made the connection between me and the murder, considering my golden retrieverishness<\/em>. A fiber in the back seat of his car, maybe. A hair or six. A witness to my furtive dash out the back of the courthouse.<\/p>\n

Sheriff Raines taking a mad stab in the dark just to be ornery, possibly.<\/p>\n

Didn\u2019t matter anyway.<\/p>\n

Parley was dead.<\/p>\n

Executed.<\/p>\n

I spent weeks in and out of federal prosecutor John Riley\u2019s office being, by turns, interrogated, interviewed, and conversed with. I knew what Riley was doing; I\u2019d done it myself a time or two. Make it look good for the bosses. He wanted nothing to do with me.<\/p>\n

On the X<\/span> axis, Riley was caught between his bosses, who wanted to send a message that vigilante justice would not be tolerated, and law enforcement, who needed the hope of vigilante justice and would protect, at all costs, any cop or officer of the court who\u2019d taken a real bite out of crime.<\/p>\n

On the Y<\/span> axis, Riley was caught between a guilt-ridden vigilante and a county full of people that now felt safe because of him.<\/p>\n

He knew what I wanted to do: Confess. Stand trial. Go to prison.<\/p>\n

Because that was what I deserved. It would take the edge off my guilt a little.<\/p>\n

Riley did not<\/em> want that.<\/p>\n

I knew it. He knew I knew it.<\/p>\n

If it weren\u2019t for the fact that my family, my best friends, would go down with me, I would\u2019ve anyway. They<\/em> didn\u2019t seem to have a problem with it and I started to understand the vastness of the emotional, experiential, philosophical chasm between me and them. I\u2019d never known just how cold<\/em> they could be and they scared me a little, really.<\/p>\n

It was a political nightmare for Riley and he would have rather just pretended I didn\u2019t exist. In the end, he let the bumbling<\/em> cops and careless<\/em> forensics people do his dirty work for him, though he never phrased it that way\u2014and they were only too happy to take the subtextual blame.<\/p>\n

Even if I hadn\u2019t done it, the county would have pinned it on me because, as Giselle had said, I had changed. No more happy-go-lucky surfer dude, no more favorite cousin to the little ones, no more fun and games, no more warm fuzzies at family gatherings.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d stopped sleeping about a week after I got the first slew of crime scene photos.<\/p>\n

Exhaustion hit me like a brick and I stayed with Giselle for the two months I was investigated. Sleeping. Helping out in the store. Maisy asked me to rearrange her stock room and take inventory; Coco had me chop about six hundred pounds of nuts and mind her ovens; Giselle made me vacuum the floor and clean the windows and sweep the sidewalk and shelve books. I liked being put to work. I didn\u2019t have to think. The girls worked me hard enough I could drop into bed and get some decent sleep.<\/p>\n

I was cuffed and stuffed into a trooper car a couple of times to be taken back<\/em> to Jeff City for the governor to yell at me some more. The last time, I\u2019d been on my way out the door, my ears ringing from his bellows, my hand on the knob, and I thought I\u2019d heard him whisper, \u201cGood job, kid.\u201d<\/p>\n

So now I was hallucinating. Great.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t dare turn on the TV\u2014<\/p>\n

\u2014then learned that ignorance is not bliss. My stake president called to inform me that because Parley\u2019s murder had made national news, and that the press never failed to mention my association to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.<\/p>\n

The Prophet and his apostles were not pleased.<\/p>\n

I drove up to Chouteau City on a Tuesday evening in early August, parked in the church parking lot, and walked into the building I hadn\u2019t been in in two months because I\u2019d gone to Giselle\u2019s ward with her.<\/p>\n

Summoned.<\/p>\n

I never knew anybody who\u2019d been summoned.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d always liked my bishop, admired him greatly. He was a pragmatic gentleman, not given to displays of emotion other than cheer. He had a good job and he\u2019d raised a good family. His wife always had intelligent things to say in Gospel Doctrine; his kids were smart and kind to their peers. I wanted a family like that, had gone to BYU to find a wife like his and build a family like his, the one I hadn\u2019t had, though my extended family tried their best. His oldest daughter, Loralee, was going to BYU early on a scholarship. A math<\/em> scholarship. His twin sons had just earned their Eagles. At fifteen. His youngest son had a bit of a wild streak, but Sister Hooper had a gentle way with him that I had noticed and envied; would that my mother had been like that. I envied the Hooper family, their odd mix of strength and gentility and humility.<\/p>\n

Such a good man.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d betrayed my bishop, betrayed my goal of somehow acquiring the kind of family he had, so I dreaded and feared his judgment.<\/p>\n

Bishop Hooper greeted me with a lame smile and a firm handshake once he\u2019d opened his office door and welcomed me in. I watched him carefully to see what I could read in his body language, but I didn\u2019t always do that very well. I relied too much on my memory, Sebastian said, and I needed to start being more observant and paying attention to how people moved and what they did, not what they said.<\/p>\n

He sat in his chair and leaned back.<\/p>\n

His smile faded.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t look at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cBrother Hilliard, I\u2014\u201d He sighed. Scratched the side of his nose. Ran his tongue over his teeth. \u201cYou\u2019re being investigated for murder.\u201d<\/p>\n

No use denying that and my gut clenched. \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

He did look at me then. \u201cDid you do it?\u201d<\/p>\n

I hadn\u2019t expected a point-blank question, but of course, I hadn\u2019t expected to be summoned, either.<\/p>\n

I wouldn\u2019t lie, but I wasn\u2019t going to admit to it, particularly since I could tell which way the wind was blowing and I then understood. He had about seven layers of priesthood to account to. He was at the bottom of the food chain. The messenger.<\/p>\n

I sat silent, looking at Bishop Hooper trying to keep my face stone still, not give anything away.<\/p>\n

It took a moment for him to accept the fact that I wasn\u2019t going to speak.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, then.\u201d He looked down at the paper in front of him. I watched tears fall from his face to the paper and splash there. \u201cWhat a waste,\u201d he whispered. \u201cOh, what a shame.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

I wanted to curl up and die right then.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll resign my membership,\u201d I said, but the words didn\u2019t really come out right. More of a croak than speech.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Salt Lake wants you excommunicated. This has been a PR nightmare and the church needs to distance itself from you. Bishop\u2019s court\u2014 I don\u2019t even know why they\u2019re making me do this, but \u2026 Come back Saturday night at eight.\u201d<\/p>\n

I slumped in my chair, sick to my stomach.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I finally muttered. \u201cDo it without me.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was nothing left to be said, so I stood and turned. Put my hand on the doorknob.<\/p>\n

But Bishop Hooper shot out of his chair and around his desk, jerked me around by my arm and smothered me in a bear hug. He buried his face in my shoulder and began to sob.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d he wept. \u201cThank you<\/em>, Knox.\u201d<\/p>\n

He knew.<\/p>\n

\n
9. Loralee Hooper \u2013 17 \u2013 Chouteau HS trk & fld Mormon HOT<\/u><\/em> prob. virgin<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

I don\u2019t know how he knew, but he did and I embraced him tight.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re welcome,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n

You did the right thing.<\/em><\/p>\n

Good job, kid.<\/em><\/p>\n

I think Grandpa would have been very proud of you.<\/em><\/p>\n

Thank you, Knox.<\/em><\/p>\n

I walked out of the church, leaving my guilt and my need to confess behind.<\/p>\n

★<\/p>\n

20260222<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

JUNE 8, 1994 Knox: 25 \u201cON THE FIRST count of murder in the first degree, how does the jury find?\u201d \u201cNot guilty.\u201d I stared at the table, my vision too fuzzy to read the words on the paper in front of me. I could feel my heart pound in my chest so hard and fast […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":39,"menu_order":4115,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-362","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/362"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=362"}],"version-history":[{"count":35,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/362\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23466,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/362\/revisions\/23466"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/39"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/moriahjovan.com\/talesofdunham\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=362"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}