Curiosity is a Killer

“Yes, my client committed a very calculated, cold-blooded murder on two derelicts who deserved every punishing moment! And so great citizens of Olden County, the defense rests.”

Brock’s attorney sat down at the desk beside him, pleased with his closing argument. Gone were the days when he had to impress a jury of twelve. Since the civil war ended, those remaining members of society agreed that local government would be powered by the people. Crimes were prosecuted by county residents all receiving a vote in the fate of the accused. Vigilante justice was not something others frowned upon.

The gallery was full of reporters there to grab the scoop before the votes were tallied over the next 48 hours. Brock’s only surviving relative, his brother Grey, was there every day of the five-month trial. He listened to experts from the prosecution talk about the evils of vigilantism, how society falls apart when there’s no clear power structure for dealing with crime. Grey thought they sounded ridiculous when society had been destroyed and there were no more local police precincts you could walk into and report a law-breaking offense.

Now only drones patrolled the partially abandoned neighborhoods and if they saw something suspicious, the county’s crime division would be dispatched. Crime was reported one of three ways; a drone spotted it, someone called a drone to the scene with their phone, or with one of the blue crime boxes on the street. This did nothing to stop violations in progress. Cops now functioned as a clean up crew that took reports from witnesses. They were not allowed to follow up and investigate the offense.

Instead, a crime first had to be deemed worthy of the county’s time and receive a seventy percent vote from the citizens to prosecute. Then a special group of county investigators and prosecutors would step in and bring the evidence to trial. If the people decided it wasn’t worth the county’s money or time, the case was closed and not allowed to be brought up for reconsideration.

Brock’s case was gruesome enough for the people to want it investigated. The story was that he lured two men to his home under the guise of sexual favors from a woman. The men were responsible for torturing war prisoners, of which Brock was one. The civil war between the classes tore the country in two and those who sided with the Elitists were slowly being brought to trial. For Brock, it was too slow, and he took matters into his own hands.

After being freed by his brother Grey’s guerrilla battalion, Brock heard that the two men overseeing his unit escaped. He silently vowed to hunt and kill the persecutors he witnessed put out cigars in prisoners’ eyes and take captured women into the backroom for ungodly physical punishments. It would only be a matter of time before Brock found them through his brother’s underground contacts.

The two guys had a weird toe fetish that even women they paid to perform it found it off putting. Brock discovered this from the whispers in the confinement camp and put the word on the street to let him know if anyone came across these guys. It worked, and Brock with the help of a woman the two men previously hired, persuaded the men to meet him at an address for some kinky toe erotica. But that’s not what happened.

The men were found with a toe or two sticking out of every bodily orifice. Their eyes were burned out, and their lips and tongue gorilla glued to their foreheads. When the bodies were originally located, no one knew who they were, and the heinousness of the crime demanded the people vote yes to seek justice. A mob was sent out to find the perpetrator, and Brock being a good citizen did not want them turning the town inside out because of him. He turned himself over the morning after the vote and pleaded, “Damn guilty!”, in front of the closed-circuit cameras recording his arrest.

No news outlet could secure an interview with Brock or Grey, so the coverage was stale with police reports being the only thing to go off until the trial. Annie knew landing an exclusive interview would catapult her career to the next level and she was ambitious. She’d unsuccessfully been trying to get Grey’s attention throughout the trial, but he seemed focused on his brother.

“Understandably, of course”, Annie thought to herself, “but he’s got to want to talk to someone.” Everyone piled into the hallway after the defense rested. Annie spotted Grey sitting on a bench and sauntered over hoping to make a new acquaintance.

“Hello there, Grey right?”, Annie’s smile stretched from ear to ear.

Grey looked up and replied dryly, “Yes.”

“Look, I know you’re…”

He interrupted her, “Just please stop. I know who you are, and I don’t have any comment.”

“Oh, no. I just wanted to wish your brother the best. I think what he did was great, and I hope the vote goes in his favor.”

This was the first time Grey heard this. Most reporters wanted to paint his brother out as a psycho who snapped and should be locked away forever. He gave Annie another look before asking, “Would you print a piece that says exactly that?”

“Sure! That was my plan all along, I was just hoping to get a quote from the you, or him before writing it up.”

Grey invited Annie to get a cup of coffee and he would answer anything he felt was relevant to the case. Containing her excitement, she accepted and the two left down a back staircase. Walking past bombed out buildings, remnants of the war, they settled at the coffeehouse on the corner. Grey told Annie his brother was a hero, and he was not going to let this oppressive system bury Brock.

“What would you do if they found him guilty?”, asked Annie.

“Take a whole lot of people with me”, he stated assuredly rubbing a gold heart shaped locket hanging from his neck.

“What do you mean?”, Annie suddenly grew concerned with the solemn look on his face. “Are you going to hurt people?”

“Nah”, he smiled, “I’m just joking. What can I do? Ever since the ridiculous gun ban how much damage can a person cause?”

Annie was not convinced he was joking but decided to let it go for now.

“So, who’s in the locket? A girlfriend? Wife? Mother?”, she sipped her coffee waiting for a response.

“None of your business. Look, I have to go. In two days I’ll know my brother’s fate, then I can plan accordingly.”

“What’s your plan?”

“You reporters are pushy aren’t you. That’s why I really didn’t want to talk in the first place. Good day, Annie.”

Grey left Annie sitting at the table with even more questions about the brothers. Little was known about their upbringing and general background. She knew Grey fought against the Elitists during the war and was an underground leader in the Egalitarian Party for Liberation. Grey freed his brother after Brock was captured during a secret mission, but not else is known other than the murders. Annie decided to wait until verdict day to attempt to get more information from Grey.

Verdict day rolled around, and the votes had been tallied. Anticipation sat heavily upon the gallery as the vote was read. Seventy-seven percent of the county’s residents voted to not convict. The reporters were stunned as they expected a Brock to go down since that’s how most outlets were spinning the story. They immediately scurried to post their pieces about the shocking verdict.

Annie made eye contact with Grey from across the gallery where he was hugging his brother. She flashed her huge smile in approval of the county’s decision. Brock told Grey there were a few people he wanted to say goodbye to before they left. Grey reluctantly agreed, although he wanted to get as far away from the courthouse as possible.

“Fine but make it quick. You know this war is not really over and we still have some cleaning up to do.”

“I know G, don’t worry. Just give me five minutes and I’ll meet you outside.”

“Make it three, this place hurts.”

Grey was on the partly crumbled courthouse steps when Annie walked up to congratulate him on the victory.

“So, I guess you don’t have to hurt anyone?”

“I was just kidding about that Annie, really.”

“So, where to next?”

“I can’t tell you that Annie.”

“Oh, is it top secret info? Just like, whoever is in that locket?”

“You have a great day Annie”, Grey turned his attention to the front doors of the courthouse hoping Brock would be the next person out.

“Oh, come on, I bet she’s beautiful, whoever she is.”

Grey ignored her, waiting for the door to swing and Brock to come tumbling out into daylight. That’s when he felt the tug at his neck. Curiosity got the best of Annie, and she opened the locket to peer inside. All she remembered before everything went dark was the look of horror on Grey’s face as he screamed, “No!”

She woke up in a hospital bed with a migraine and her body aching all over. Once the fuzzy nurse came to view and she was able to focus, Annie saw three of her co-workers standing around.

“Thank goodness. We thought we’d lost you”, said her head editor, Blanca.

“What the hell happened? I was on the steps talking to Grey…is he okay?”

Blanca looked nervously at the others before walking to Annie’s bedside to envelope her hand the way a mother does right before she gives you terrible news.

“Grey was still working with an anti-Elitist group, which planned to set off a bomb at the courthouse if Brock was not set free.”

“So, they blew it up even though Brock was a no conviction?”

Sighing heavily, Blanca continued, “Actually, well technically, he did not blow it up. You did.”

“What! What are you talking about Blanca? I don’t blow things up, I’ve never made a pipe bomb, stink bomb, no bombs! Is that what everyone is saying?”, Annie was visibly panicked.

“Calm down, calm down Annie. It’s alright. Everyone knows it was an accident.”

“You still aren’t making sense Blanca. Why would anyone think I’d accidentally blow up the courthouse?”

“Because you opened the locket on Grey’s neck. It was a detonator sweetie”, Blanca reported while stroking Annie’s long brown hair.

Frozen in disbelief, Annie's body grew weak and slumped into the mattress. It was too much to take in. She remembered what Grey said about hurting lots of people, is that what he meant? He told her to mind her business, and she pushed.

Now, hundreds were being reported dead on the news and it was all her fault. Despondent, Annie quickly sunk into a depressive state which turned vegetative after the sedatives she was given to cope became her day to day normal.