Lawful Evil

Andre Thompson is a tall 40’something male, American-African made. Sitting in his chair, he loosens his tie as the aeroplane he has boarded awaits a signal to go on the runway at Philadelphia International Airport. He knows that soon there will be a thousand miles between himself and his devoted wife, Deiondre.

He releases his phone from his business jacket – unlocks it – then rings his wife. Of whom he had said goodbye; not more than 2 and a ½ hours ago. He holds the device to his ear. A dial-tone rings repeatedly for longer than usual, and the moment Andre feels like it has been too long for her to not pick up as a mistake, she answers.

“Andre? Are you on the plane?” Deiondre whispers to him half-asleep, and not too sure of her consciousness.

“Yes, baby” he replies. “We’re about to take off, but I had to hear your voice. You soothe my fears.” There is short pause.

“Oh Andre, listen to my voice, I’ll see you tomorrow evening, yeah?” she speaks reassuringly “I will cook up your favourite dinner, and after you can spend some quality daddy-and-son time with Hakeem. We miss you daddy!” (she says imitating Hakeem)

Andre relaxes from hearing his wife’s voice. He looks around and sees an array of stereotypes he chooses to overlook; he knows everyone has a rightful place. There is a radio frequency that bursts over the intercom.

“Hello everyone, this is Captain Phillips speaking, and on behalf of the crew, Airmerica and the glory it is to be a US citizen, we are looking at a pleasant flight ahead, with very little-to-zero chance of turbulence. Our flight today will be approximately 2hrs 45 minutes, and once we are in the air, we will be at a cruising altitude of 40 thousand feet. Please read the safety manual and take this opportunity to ensure for the duration of this flight you keep all cellular devices switched-off or on an aeroplane friendly mode.”

The noise of the intercom outweighs the volume of Andre’s phone, and he becomes increasingly more unable to hear his wife’s voice. A passing cabin stewardess notices Andre on his phone, she bends over a little beside him.

“Excuse me sir, please will your turn off your device or switch it to aeroplane mode. We are about to take-off” Janice, the polite stick-figure company-smile sporting air stewardess issues.

Andre shouts quickly down the phone, “Goodbye and I love you!” and hangs up, turning his phone off altogether, unsure if Deiondre heard. He looks at the worried stewardess and apologizes for the inconvenience. Then thanks her concern.

The Captain Continues “Other than that, we wish you a pleasant flight with our lovely cabin crew. Airmerica, the only way to domesti-fly.” There is a moment of pause. “Er, we are just waiting for the signal from ATC (Air Traffic Control), and once affirmed, we will begin take-off. Standb… Oh, there we have it folks!” (– communication cuts out with radio hiss.)

The aeroplane begins to rumble and shake at its own speed, one of the perks of being a cattle-airline flyer, riding the tarmac it is trying to repel itself from.

The nose begins to rise, and before long the ascent begins, making its way into the air smoothly. And still, Andre tightens his grip of both arm rests he is holding onto, as he knows what comes next. A moment he dreads. He describes it to Deiondre as if the aeroplane is changing gear, and there is a lull in the vehicle’s propulsion, and it makes Andre feel sick to his stomach. As if it might fall out of his mouth. Andre begins to feel the dip, and it lasts for merely a second, but even the slightest twitch of the aeroplane is enough to rouse an involuntary limb.

Enough time passes once the aeroplane has begun to level out, and the fare seems to go just as Captain Phillips had prophesized; turbulence free. A welcome ding insists that passengers undo their seatbelts.

“Hello passengers, we thank you once again for choosing to travel with Airmerica, and I hope you all enjoy a pleasant flight. For any food and drinks, the cabin crew will be coming by shortly. Please make yourselves comfortable, and enjoy your flight with Airmerica, The only way to domesti-fly.” (– communication cuts out with radio hiss.)

The flight soothes across the sky, and as Andre’s attention becomes clearer, his sight is caught by the man sitting beside him, cuffed. It seemed so strange to him to believe that his fear had not even afforded him the consciousness to notice the man in seat E of the nine-seated row.

He is a young white male, about 22, with a be-spotted face and a pubescent moustache. His hair is greasy and thin, and his eyes are the dots of a vacant soul.

Andre looks at him and begins to speak gently.

“What’s your name young man?” Andre softly inviting a response.

The boy looks to Andre, and with little emotion in his tongue speaks.

“Brad. And yours?”

“What did you do?” Andre nods his head at Brads handcuffs.

“Long story short. I shot my best friend, Clancy Anderson, with a Glock 17.” He looks down ashamed, full of guilt and anger.

For a moment Andre’s eyes open in shock, but sink back quickly into reality “Was it an accident?” Andre endears.

“It’s funny, you’re the first person to ask me that. But if you ask me, I had to, he was going to shoot everyone at my school. He lost his mind, and he told me his revenge plan. I couldn’t let him know I now knew he was mad; he would have turned on me there and then. I could tell he wasn’t right anymore. He was talking in bursts and shouts, and to himself in different voices. He showed me the Glock, told me he kept one bullet in there for safety, just in case. I asked him if I could hold it, and he trusted me. It was terrible, but do you want to know the worst part?” there is a rise in Brad’s voice that seems sincere.

“What’s that Brad?” Andre inquires sincerely.

“My lie is the reason someone else is in jail.”

“How’d you work that out then?”

“Well, I was interviewed for his murder in Chicago, but because I threw Clancy’s damn shooter away, I thought I could get away with lying about not killing him. After a few weeks the guilt ate at me like a thousand caterpillars might a rotten apple, so I turned myself in, but it’s like the PO’s wouldn’t believe me, because they already had a felon awaiting trial. Some young black boy, La Vonn, the police picked up, who’d presumably found the Glock I threw away, tied to my best friend’s muder investigation. I knew then the PO’s wanted an easy conviction, because they must have buried my confession, because that boys been in prison ever since.” Brad begins to weep emotionlessly.

Andre takes a moment or two to compress these details, and he looks deep into Brad’s eyes and says “That was a very difficult experience you had to endure young man, I do not envy you. Above all I feel for the boy who found your gun, I bet he thought it was his lucky day, another wasted life at the hands of infantile gun malpractice.” He pauses, “Brad, life deals us all unique cards. But life does not stop, even within incarceration. I’ve been in a few times in my life, not long mind you, couple of months here and there. Just promise me that you won’t waste a second of your time, inside or out. You only get one.”

“That’s good advice, thank you Andre.”

“Hello again my faithful Airmerica passengers, as you can see the seat-belt sign has returned and we must engage in what will be the beginning of our descent momentarily. The time is currently 2:33 am and we will be landing at around 3:15. Cabin crew, you know what to do.” (– communication cuts out with radio hiss.)

The plane lands with a staggering thump. Andre sighs with relieve about how thankful he is now to be attached to the ground once more. The plane quickly arrives at its numbered port, and the crew begin to disembark the passengers. Thanking each and every one, wishing them a pleasant stay.

At the Chicago arrival’s terminal, all sorts of welcomes can be heard, by families excited to greet their loved ones, taxi drivers calling out names on placards and even people yelling on phones.

Andre removes his phone from his pocket and calls Deiondre. Andre concludes her phone is on silent, and it goes to voicemail.

“D. As you can tell I am alive and well, the plane landed safely, and I’m on my way to a motel. I miss you so much, always! I hope you gave Hakeem a kiss goodnight from daddy too, you know he won’t sleep well otherwise. I love you. Sweet dreams, speak in the morning.” Ending the call.