Chimera

Did you know Frankie Soloman?

Yeah. He was my best friend.

Oh, I’m sorry.

Yeah, so am I.

There was a cup of water placed in front of me. My mouth kept feeling dry, so I kept sipping it. I don’t know why I was nervous, but I could feel the jitters passing through my legs and into my chest.

Well, maybe this’ll do him some good.

Huh?

Finding out what happened.

Oh. (I cleared my throat.) Yeah, I guess.

So what did happen the afternoon of July 4th?

Scritch, scratch. I hate the sound of pens.

I left the garage door open even though my dad always tells me not to. It was too hot to stay in the house, so I went out without telling anyone. It kind of felt good, you know? It felt like I was rebelling, but I was so stupid. I forgot to shut that freaking door, but it wouldn’t matter later on anyway.

Why’s that?

Because when something really bad happens, no one cares about an open garage door.

Of course. Continue.

I picked up a rock and put it in my pocket.

Why’d you do that?

I felt like it. I thought that maybe it would bring me luck, but I don’t think it did.

Do you still have the rock?

No. I lost it this morning.

Does it remind you of that day?

Mhm. Maybe it’s better that it’s gone now. Maybe it actually brought me bad luck.

There was a dirt stain on my pant leg, so I cautiously wiped it off. These were old pants, probably as old as the squeaky chair I was sitting on. Every time I tried to lean back, it would shriek.

What happened after you picked it up?

I went to the quarry to splash around in the water and I saw Frankie on the way there. His parents were leaving to visit his aunt, but he didn’t wanna go, so he tagged along. He didn’t tell his parents or anything, like how I didn’t tell mine, so we talked about how good it felt to just be away from them for once.

Do you think Frankie was sheltered?

He was the most sheltered kid I’ve ever met, but he didn’t always like going with everything his parents wanted. He wanted to rebel sometimes, so I’d let him tag along to things.

Were you ever afraid of getting into trouble with his parents?

I took a sip of water. It wasn’t as refreshing as the first sip, but it cleared my throat.

Not really. His parents could be scary toward other people, but none of that bothers me. They thought I was a bad influence on him, so they wouldn’t let me near him and if they saw us together, they’d drag him away like a dog on a leash, but it never bothered me much what they thought of me. I just hated it when they’d act like he was a national treasure.

Do you think he was special?

I had my hand around my cup, but it was completely empty. I thought about asking for more water, but then I started thinking back and my mouth tasted a little sour. Frankie was the kid that wore suspenders and shoes that were too big, obviously hand-me-downs. I never really thought about it. In my opinion, I guessed he kind of was because he always looked a little funny and he carried an inhaler wherever he went. He was always going on about diseases like AIDs and the measles. I always just let him rant on about them because he was really terrified of them, but at some point I stopped him.

“Are you afraid of anything else other than diseases?” I asked. At first, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. There was a mix of confusion and surprise on his face, but he swallowed a wad and took his hand out of his pocket. Unlike diseases, I guess it wasn’t something that was easy for him to talk about.

For a second, I considered changing the subject, but he looked at me and said, “Adults. I don’t like the way they talk to me and they always act like because they’re older than me they know more than I do. It’s not fair. I never wanna grow up. Ever.” Everyone made Frankie out to be this big scaredy-pants who always clung to his mom’s leg like a koala, but he was a lot more courageous and independent than most would expect. Sure, his mom was a little possessive over her precious son. Sure, he looked like a nerd and jumped at the sight of spiders, but when you’re that sheltered and all your parents teach you is how to be afraid of things, of course you’re going to get a bit jumpy around things. It wasn’t his fault.

And he was right, we’re all just children. I may be a senior in high school, your typical teenage train wreck, but at least I know that much.

“What’re you afraid of?” His question caught me off-guard. I had never really thought about it much. I didn’t think I was afraid of anything, but that couldn’t have been true. By then, I knew that it was human nature to be afraid of at least one thing, but what it was that scared me was a difficult thought to process. I didn’t ever mind spiders, ghosts, zombies, meteorites, tight spaces, urban legends, or even the good old-fashioned Boogeyman. I knew that everything eventually dies and sometimes terrible things happen, but what I said next was the truth.

“Not amounting to anyone or anything. I’m afraid I’ll just end up being forgotten when I’m dead.” Frankie nodded. I suppose he knew what that felt like.

“Me too. I’m afraid of letting my parents down. I’m already a loser at school, so I just don’t wanna be a loser in life too, you know?” There was a glint of sadness in his eye and a quiver of dread in his tone. I nodded.

“Yeah, I get that. My dad wants me to take over the family business, but I don’t want to. I’m afraid of telling him because I don’t wanna upset him.” The gravel beneath our feet was hot in the summer sun. It was June and we were going to get cones at the ice cream parlor. It was probably ninety degrees out and our foreheads were damp with sweat. Frankie had bangs that stuck to his face, but mine were plastered to my forehead. I pushed them back a little, but they’d just fall right back on my skin.

“I never wanna be like my mom.” Those words coming from Frankie were a little surprising considering how much he used to look up to her. I suppose hanging out with me made him realize that not everything outside his parents’ house was a threat to him and maybe not everything his mother told him was entirely true.

“My mom remarried after she and my dad split. I heard a little while ago that she’s got two kids now. One of them is almost your age.” I rarely ever talked about my mom, but sometimes it felt nice to just know that she ever existed. Frankie let out a faint hum. We spent the whole summer walking from place to place, doing stupid things like building dams in places dams weren’t meant to be built, riding our bikes in the middle of the street, and throwing beer bottles we found lying around at trees. It was the best summer of my life.

Yeah, I guess he was. He had his own sort of way of doing things whenever he’d find a way of escaping his mom for a bit. He always said that he was hanging out with his old pal, Rufus, but he and Rufus haven’t– hadn’t actually hung out in months. I guess they grew apart. Anyways, saying it was Rufus was better than saying it was me.

Did he ever talk about hurting his mother?

I thought hard about it, but it was difficult to say.

He probably did, but if it sounded like he was serious, I think I would remember. I can’t say. We spent a lot of time together over the summer, so it’s not entirely impossible that maybe I heard him say a little thing. As far as I can remember, nothing was said. We rarely ever actually talked about his mom. We mostly talked about our secrets which is kind of embarrassing ‘cause sometimes it’d feel like we were in some kind of chick flick, like Sixteen Candles or sum’in girly like that, but I dunno. I think we just had a lot more in common than we thought.

What would you say he was like upon first impression?

“Nice lunchbox” I said as I passed by a kid sitting at a park bench. There was a park a few blocks down from our school that a lot of kids visited during lunch period. It was a nice place to sit down and enjoy the Vermont weather. Although I wasn’t much of a cloud watcher or butterfly catcher, I liked eating my turkey sandwich with a side of fresh air. I never liked the cafeteria anyway, all those girls wanting to sit with hot guys and all those outcasts trading cards and talking amongst themselves –those kinds of people. I never liked any of it. I preferred eating alone. I think I kind of intimidated people too because I always wore leather jackets, heavy boots, and I had a tattoo on my bicep of Jason Voorhees’ mask. Yeah, I was that kid. I liked watching horror movies in the dark without anyone around and hated all sports besides swimming and snowboarding.

I skateboarded to school, dreaming of riding a motorcycle, and listened to Circle Jerks. My hair was dyed with an unhealthy amount of hair gel, but the principal gave me hell about the color of my hair, so I had to dye it black. It still looked good, so I wasn’t exactly complaining, but I should get to have whatever hair color I want. I never hesitated to speak up or argue and I definitely didn’t hesitate to sass on anyone who deserves a good sassing, but it wasn’t good for making any friends. People either really hated me or really liked me, but if they liked me, they’d better keep their mouths shut about it or they might find themselves in the cafeteria garbage can. The local bullies weren’t too fond of me and neither were any of the parents in town, not even my own, so it wasn’t surprising when people would smile at me and then pretend to talk smack about me so their friends wouldn’t be disgusted. I didn’t mind it.

So there I was, walking by this scrawny nerd with my turkey sandwich, and the kid smiled and said, “Thanks!” And I guess I was in the mood for a conversation, so I asked, “You like scary movies?” At first, he seemed like your typical mama’s-good-boy, but then we got into the movies we liked, the music we listened to, and some of the people we liked and suddenly he wasn’t a scrawny nerd anymore. It didn’t matter that he wore a striped t-shirt and overalls with big square glasses and long white socks. We sat at that park bench through the next class even though Frankie never missed a class. His mom gave him an earful when he got home, but we spent every lunch together after that.

To be fully honest, even though he was bullied by the usual tryhards, he wasn’t miserable. He had dreams of becoming a famous movie director and making his own horror sci-fi films, so he knew what he wanted in life and that was way cooler than any Jeff wannabe. Jeff, short for Jeffrey, was Frankie’s school bully who never quit hustling everyone. He was the kid that’d talk about girls like they were objects while leaning against some other kid’s locker with a lighter in his back pocket. He wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with unless you wanted a faceful of fist and sloppy Joe.

Intimidation was his key to enslaving everyone. Well, everyone but me. Frankie was different though. He couldn’t stand up for himself like I could.

He looked like a nerd on the outside, kinda scrawny with big glasses, and he never seemed interested in the usual crowd. A lot of bullies saw him as an easy target, but I always tried to stick near him. That didn’t exactly stop one of them though. There’s this kid. He wouldn’t stop trying to get under his skin no matter what I did. I seriously don’t know what his problem was, but he was relentless. A real bastard.

What was this kid’s name?

Jeffrey what’s-his-name. Let me think. I think it’s Walker? Jeffrey Walker?

You mean Jeffrey Wyler?

Yeah, that son-of-a-bitch.

It’s not the first time we’ve heard his name. Did he ever treat Frankie in any way that could’ve made him angry or aggressive towards him?

He was always after him. No matter where he was, Jeffrey always had something to pick on him for. Sometimes it was just to push him or smack his glasses off of his face, but sometimes he actually stopped him and tried to talk to him, and not in a good way.

Can you tell us about any experiences that stood out in particular?

Well...there was this one time where things got a little crazy. I’ve known Frankie for two years. Last summer was all fun and games, but this summer’s different. Jeffrey was always looking for us and trying to beat us up or pick on us, so whenever we were out of the house, we were always on the run. I don’t think I minded it nearly as much as Frankie did. He was more skittish and even though I kept telling him that they weren’t gonna find us, he still looked a little on edge. Jeff and his little group of tryhards scared him more than me.

What happened?

They came in their car. They drove around in Jeff’s mustang and tried to look tough. They were driving by and sped up when they saw us by the road. We both recognized the car immediately when we turned around, so we ducked into the trees. There was barbed wire that was obscured by the plant growth and Frankie got a bit scared, so I went through first to make him feel better and I think that gave him some confidence ‘cause he slipped through. I think we both cut ourselves though, so we weren’t very slick and they definitely didn’t lose sight of us. We kept running, but they’d stopped right where they could see us and Jeff started hollering. That kid gets a boner whenever he sees an opportunity to kick some poor kid’s ass, so he started going completely nuts. We were running and we heard his minions climbing under the wire.

Who were his “minions?”

They all had nicknames that everyone called them by rather than their real names. I think the only people in school who knew their real names were the teachers.

Scritch, scratch

What were their nicknames?

Uh, let me think. Bones was one of ‘em. He wore wristbands and a necklace made of shark teeth. The other three were...ummm...Klepto, Smasher, and Beetle. Some stupid punk names like that. Klepto was a kleptomaniac, hence the name, so I know he’d stolen a lot of stuff. As for the other two, I have no idea how they got their names.

Can you describe them to me?

Uh, Klepto was pretty tall. You could pass him off as a senior even though he was a sophomore. He had pimples all over his face and wore a lot of tank tops and t-shirts. He played basketball, but he got kicked off the team after he got caught with some dope. He was kind of a junkie and I wouldn’t doubt it if he supplied some to the rest of the Jeffrey gang.

I’m sorry, is that what the kids call them?

Yeah. Bones was a senior, pretty tall too, probably 6’2”, but he was skinny and kind of crazy. I don’t know what was wrong with that kid, but he was definitely not sane. Whenever he saw us, he had this evil in his eyes that I can’t explain and this smug smile like he was imagining something terrible. He was the kid that killed the neighbor’s cat, if you get what I’m saying.

Yeah, I’ve dealt with kids like that. I’m sorry you had to see it first-hand. What can you tell me about Smasher and Beetle?

Smasher was a big guy, real chubby. He had hair that looked like someone had just taken a pound of Sloppy Joe and dropped it right on the top of his head. He wore lots of t-shirts and jeans and he was always walking around with a serious look on his face.You could tell that he was racist as hell, but he knew where to draw the line at least. I heard him ask Jeff once or twice if they should stop since he was getting a little bored. I don’t know if he was actually bored or just said that so that he’d get off our backs, but Jeff refused to stop and Smasher kind of backed out. I think Beetle was mostly just there to tag along. He brought a can of hairspray with a lighter taped to it wherever he went so he could light things, and sometimes people, on fire. I think he was some kind of pyromaniac ‘cause he was always playing with that thing. Other than that, he usually stuck to just grabbing.

What about Beetle?

Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about him. He was a lot like Jeffrey except he was queer. It wasn’t something you’d hear from his mouth since he was pretty good at staying in the closet, but it was kinda obvious. I think he just didn’t want to get made fun of since some of the kids ‘round here aren’t really the nicest, especially Jeffrey. I don’t blame him, but the guy was nuts. He gave us these little threats, the kind that people whisper to you under their breaths, and they were...disturbing...to say the least...Real spooky guy, probably the long lost brother of Jeffrey Dahmer except he didn’t look anything like him.

What did he look like?

I exhaled through pursed lips and leaned forward a little as I tried to remember his face.

His hair was really greasy, I remember that. I think he dyed it black, but it started fading so you could see his brown roots. He was a real Jeffrey wannabe. He wore the same leather and I’m pretty sure he took up smoking just to look tough like him. He got a tattoo when he was fifteen without his dad’s permission, a woman’s head with a dagger through her skull on his shoulder. I can’t remember if it was his left or right, but it was definitely a sight to see. It was kind of cool actually, but it was also a little twisted. He wore these heavy boots with straps and baggy pants with a bunch of zippers. He looked like something out of The Clash, if you get what I mean. He was raised pretty tough, but I think he was a little scared of Jeffrey, just like the rest of ‘em. He was scared that he’d find out about his homosexual tendencies. I guess he kind of was a tough kid in the sense that he had a really high pain tolerance, and I mean insanely high, like stabbing yourself in the hand with a pencil and not feeling a thing kind of high, but he was still pathetic in the sense that he was too much of a scaredy-cat to show his true colors. He and the rest of the gang were always either trying to impress one another or scare everyone else and it really got on my nerves sometimes.

Have you ever fought against them?

This time, yeah. Usually, I just got Frankie away or used my words like the way my dad taught me, but this time, we didn’t have a choice. They wouldn’t leave us alone.

So they chased you into the trees. Where was this?

Off of Curtis Street in the direction of the quarry.

Where were you headed?

We wanted to go for another swim since it was hot out.

What happened next?

My hand began to shake. I’ve already said that there aren’t a lot of things that scare me, but talking about the things that happened with Frankie that summer were more than scary, they were horrifying. They were the most gruesome things that ever happened in this town and I am the only surviving witness to their true horror. That’s right, you heard me. The only one. Just me. Well, there’s another, but he can’t talk about it. Only I can.

We ran for the quarry. We heard them shouting behind us, so it wasn’t hard to figure out where they were, but we were too slow. Frankie’s foot got caught in a tree root and he fell down, but I got him back up. Right when we started running again, Smasher came running out and tackled me. He pinned me down and grabbed my arm. He yelled out and near as hell broke my arm, but I pulled it free and turned around. I kept yelling at Frankie to keep running, but he wouldn’t listen. Smasher started strangling me and that kid’s pretty strong, so I couldn’t get his hands off. He’s also pretty heavy, so I couldn’t get his body off of me either.

I was trapped, so I waved for Frankie to run. He still wouldn’t listen. I’m kind of glad he didn’t though ‘cause he took a rock and threw it at Smasher’s back. It didn’t really stop him, but it made him look back. He kept grabbing rocks and throwing them until one of them hit his head and he got pissed off. He lunged towards Frankie and tried to punch him, but he moved out of the way. Frankie’s always been pretty fast. He may not have had a great punch, but he sure knew how to dodge one. Smasher tripped and hit the ground. It took him a second to get up, so we ran while we had the chance.

Was he hurt?

No, he was fine. I think. Probably didn’t feel so good to get a load of dirt to the face though.

My voice quivered. It was the first time I’d spoken about that incident with anyone but Frankie. I’d never imagined I’d be talking about it that way.

We started running and we found the quarry. We stopped for a second ‘cause we were both out of breath and he had asthma, so he had to get out his inhaler. He started wheezing really bad and looked around for his inhaler when he realized that he’d dropped it somewhere back in the woods. We both panicked ‘cause the only extra he had was back at home with his mom. I almost turned around to go back and get it for him, but it would’ve been me against four. We heard Jeff yelling behind us, so we kept running, but he couldn’t breathe. There were some kids on the other side going for a swim. They were a little older than us and they saw us coming. We were so lucky. If they hadn’t been there, Frankie would’ve died before I could get him home.

Did they have an inhaler?

No, but they had bikes. One of them took Frankie on his bike and we pedalled back to his house. I swear, it was the fastest either of us have ever pedalled in our lives. We were going fast enough to keep up with some of the cars on the road. His house was maybe five minutes or less away. We got there in less than two. When we got there, we got him off the bike and knocked on the door. It was locked, so he couldn’t burst in. His mom answered and at first, I thought she was gonna yell at me ‘cause I knew she didn’t like me being around him, but then she saw his face and realized that he wasn’t alright. She let him in and closed the door in our faces. We heard him wheezing inside for a few seconds and then it stopped.

Was he okay?

Yeah, he was alright. His mom kept an eye on him for a little while after that though. I mean, she was always watching what he was doing, but not when he had his two or so hours of freedom to just hang around outside like everyone else. Now she was going everywhere with him and I couldn’t really talk to him because of it. Whenever she saw me, she’d stare me down and drag him away.

Did he seem unhappy?

Yeah. He didn’t look too good. He looked like he was sick or something. I don’t know what it was, but I think it was because he was trapped. He couldn’t leave the house unless his mom came with him. Imagine how pale that can make someone if their mom is sick and doesn’t want you to go anywhere without her.

I heard his mother had cancer. That must’ve really devastated him.

I guess. He never talked much about it.

Are you aware that she passed away last night?

Yeah, my dad read it in the paper. He always reads the paper in the morning. It’s really sad ‘cause I can imagine Frankie’s...um...well, it must’ve made her condition worse.

Is there any possibility that her death may have had anything to do with Frankie’s resentment towards her?

Resentment?

You said that he wanted to escape his mother. Did he hate her?

He didn’t always like her, but Frankie never hated his mother. The only people he hated was the Jeffrey gang. Whenever he’d hear anything about them, he’d sort of slouch like he didn’t want to be seen. There were a few times where he’d talk about how angry they made him.

Did you know when he was about to snap?

People don’t just snap. That only happens in the movies. In real life, people get upset and keep letting it go until they can’t anymore. That’s what happened with Frankie. He just couldn’t let it go again, so he went mad.

Can you tell me about that afternoon then?

Your best witness is lying face-up in a morgue.

Frankie?

No, the other one.

Ah, you mean Jeffrey. We have one other body in the morgue and one is in the hospital being prepped to transfer to a psychiatric center. The fourth is also in the hospital, but he’s in a coma and probably won’t wake up for some time.

I know. Jeffrey and Bones are dead. Beetle was hit pretty hard and he didn’t get up, so it’s not surprising. So, Smasher’s going to the looney bin. Christ.

I ran both hands through my hair and breathed sharply through my teeth.

So you’re telling me that Bones is Nolan Lewell? Is that right?

Like I said, I’m not sure. If they fit the description, then yes.

That’s the name of the body we identified with one hundred percent certainty. As far as the description though, it seems to fit pretty well.

She flipped through some papers she had sitting on her lap.

Oh, then yeah. It’s gotta be them.

So where were you the afternoon of July 4th? Did you see everything that happened?

No, not everything…

It was one of the hottest days of the year. I had my bike with me from the garage and only when I was four blocks down did I realize that I had left the door open. I sighed and nearly turned around, but I didn’t feel much like walking back. It was hot enough for the sidewalk to burn my feet if I had decided to go barefoot, so I wore an old pair of sneakers to keep them protected. If I had just been walking to Frankie’s house, I wouldn’t have taken as much precaution. My bike was old and squeaked whenever I squeezed the brakes, but it was still my prized possession.

It was my ride to anywhere in Putney. Frankie and I would take our bikes out anywhere, but it was usually to the quarry. We had our own spot where we’d hide them so none of the other kids passing through would look at them and think of a faster way home. We’d cover them in leaves and branches so they were camouflaged before we’d head down in our swim trunks. Frankie had long hair that he washed nearly every day. His mother made him practically scrub himself until his skin was pink and shiny. He even cleaned beneath his fingernails and brushed his teeth three times a day: once in the morning, once right when he got back home from school, and once after dinner. Before he went to bed, he’d brush his hair, wash his face, and get some clean clothes for the next day. He was bullied quite a bit for looking really clean and proper and it made him rebel a few times, but he wasn’t going to risk getting any infections or diseases just because he didn’t brush his teeth a third time.

He was the kid that would freak out if he saw a used Curad on the sidewalk. I mean, I didn’t like the thought of touching a blood-stained Curad that was just lying around, but I wasn’t nearly as horrified by it as Frankie ever was. I made a habit of convincing him that it wasn’t so bad being clean-cut, but I wasn’t so clean myself. I always looked like I had a case of the morning bedhead and despite my efforts in doing my laundry regularly, I still always ended up wearing the same pair of jeans that I did the day before. I wore the same leather jacket every day, but I hated the thought of ever greasing my hair or trying to look like those average high school smoking-Camel-tough-guy-whatevers. Every guy wanted to either be one or kill one.

Jeffrey deserved some of the karma, but he didn’t deserve to die. He wasn’t too short of a psychopath and I wouldn’t have doubted it if he grew up to become a famous serial killer, but he didn’t deserve to lose a chance at becoming an actually decent human being.

Tell me what happened.

Oh, right. Sorry.

I kept riding down the street when I spotted Frankie running out of his house. He must’ve seen me from his bedroom window and came running out to greet me. I hit the brakes and we fist-bumped. He looked like he had just showered, so I asked him if his momma was home. He nodded and told me that she was getting lawn chairs from the basement. His cheeks were really red like someone had slapped them, but I knew it had to be because he washed his face. I asked him if he wanted to tag along. I knew that his mother wouldn’t have liked it, but he was pulling a long face and I didn’t really feel like heading down alone. The moment I asked him, his face lit up like a friggin’ arcade machine and he nodded a little too enthusiastically. It was like he was waiting for me to swoop in and save him from his nightmare. I told him, “Then, grab your bike and c’mon!” He ran back to the side of the house where his bike was resting against the pale pink siding and swung his leg over it. We started pedalling away from his house like two maniacs, trying hard not to get spotted by his mother.

She never saw us and we rode like the wind down to the quarry. At some point, I started howling and Frankie joined in. His voice was a little squeaky, but he was getting better at being loud. That was another thing I tried to teach him: how to be loud as hell.

Do you know what he might’ve been like before you met him?

Oh, real quiet. Never said a word unless he was spoken to. Real polite too as though everything he said was completely scripted. He would prepare what he was gonna say before he entered a room. He was still pretty clean, but he would go as far as wearing dress shirts every day.

What was he like before that afternoon?

He wasn’t quiet anymore. When he wanted to say something, he said it. No hesitation. No thought. Just talk and he spoke pretty well too. He’d bring his whole dictionary with him wherever he went, if you get what I’m saying. He was really smart and wasn’t so afraid to rebel a little. He kind of broke away from his mom and started becoming his own man. He started howling louder and louder until he was even louder than me and I could swear that his voice deepened so much, you couldn’t recognize it. I don’t even think it was puberty or whatever. I think it was just from his change in confidence.

Do you think that what happened that afternoon was a result of that?

No, I think that was something else. Frankie always hated how possessive his mother was over him and she never let him have any real friends. He didn’t like dressing like an adult, but she always made him do it. He told me once that sometimes, he wished he wasn’t her son, but he’d take it all back when he remembered all of the things she’d done for him. Apparently, she lost her three-year-old daughter when she was thirty to a nasty case of the measles. That’s why she’s always bothering him about diseases. It’s really no wonder. I’d probably be the same if something like that happened to me. Still didn’t give her the right to treat him like a baby. He also kept a lot of his anger toward the Jeffrey gang to himself. In fact, he kept nearly all of it to himself. Sometimes, he’d insult them behind their backs, but only to me. I usually joked about it and I tried to keep him calm. I kept telling him to just let it go, but they kept coming back and doing things that made him angry. I think he was tired of being victimized.

Do you remember any time where you felt personally threatened by him?

No, he was never like that at all. What happened is as surprising to me as it is to anyone else. I think his mom might’ve had an experience or two though. He told me that he’d gotten into a few fights with her. That was maybe a week or less before the fourth, but he’d never physically hurt her. He never showed any signs of dangerous behavior, if that’s what you’re picking at. He was always the one getting shoved and he never shoved back...until now…

Uh-huh. Well, go on. What happened after you and Frankie started howling? Did you see Jeffrey and his friends?

No, not right away…