Yellowstone National Park, 1998
"Man, I'm so glad we did this" Richard said from the driver's seat of the RV, in the back he heard laughing from his friend Lin and girlfriend Emily.
"Uh, yeah baby, it's great" Emily said.
"How close are we anyway, Rich?" Lin said.
"To the camp site? Maybe another 5 miles?"
"Cool" Lin replied. "Well let us know"
Ever since Lin had gotten Emily into that stupid Dungeons & Dragons game all they ever wanted to was play and as a result, Richard had been doing more than his fair share of the driving they were suppose to split.
How the fuck can they play anyway? he wondered often. What fun is it with just a DM and one player?
Lin and Rich had been friends all throughout high school and this was suppose to be a guy's road trip they'd planned since Freshman year. They were able to go to college, their entire lives ahead of them. Both of them were going into criminal justice, particularly law enforcement. Lin's dad had been a cop, so for him to get into the "family business" it made sense. But Rich had pretty much been along for the ride. Lin wanted to do it, so he did too. At least that was how it started. But as time had progressed, even though he wouldn't say it out loud, the thought of being the man in charge greatly appealed to Rich on a level he decided to keep to himself.
Lin was more of a Boy Scout about his ambitions. Rich looked at it as a way to get respect and authority, something he'd never had as some poor kid from the South side of town growing up in a trailer park.
But Emily had changed him a lot for the better. From the moment he met her, he fell in love with her. She was ambitious and caring. She wanted to become an Epidemiologist. She wanted to cure diseases around the world. It made sense: her mother had tied of a rare flesh eating disease.
Everyday Rich tried his best to get her attention. She didn't return the affection, at first, but he didn't give up. He hadn't wanted something so bad in his life. Lin, as his best friend, had been totally supportive and eventually, he'd won Emily over and the two had fallen totally in love. They were inseparable, Rich thought. For Rich, Emily had been what he'd always longed for: someone who appreciated him and believed in him. Lin provided that to a degree, but it's different when it's a girl. Because of how poor Rich had been growing up, girls had never given him the time of day. But Emily saw something in Rich that he didn't even see in himself: ambition, potential... and she gave him a love that was far deeper than such material things.
Or that is what Rich thought... and he was probably right until they sat out on that trip.
Looking back, it had been his own fault Rich knew. It was going to be a guy's road trip but the thought of being away from Emily for two months was too much and Emily had begged to go with them. Lin had resisted, complaining they'd been planning this since they met and it was suppose to be the two of them. But eventually, after Rich threatened to call the entire thing off, he'd relented and said Emily could come along.
So it had become the three of them and it had went surprisingly well... in fact, it turned out it had went too well.
They arrived at the camp site and he put the RV in park and could already hear Lin and Emily in the back scrambling to get out. When he reached back to pull back the curtain they were standing up quickly.
"We're here!" Emily said putting on a smile.
Rich noticed there was no D&D stuff anywhere. They must have been putting that up. He supposed with two people they didn't need much... normally there was pens, paper, all these dice, a map, some figures and other crap he didn't understand. D&D was the one thing Lin and him didn't do together. Lin had nerd friends for that. He'd tried to show Rich how to play one time and it hadn't worked out.
They all crawled out of the RV and stretched their arms.
"Holy shit" Rich said. "I just drove for 6 hours straight".
"Six hours!" Lin exclaimed. "Didn't seem that long"
He shot an unnoticed smile at Emily. She gave a half smile back which turned to a complete frown when she looked at Rich smiling at her.
Rich came over and hugged Emily, her straight black hair blew in the cool air of isolation and her black plastic framed classes rode up her face a little as her shoulder pressed against them. This always happened, as Emily was much shorter than Rich.
"I love you so much" he said. Kissing her.
Emily hugged back but it was half-hearted, limp. Her kiss was worse.
"What's wrong?" he asked her as she cast her eyes to the ground.
"Nothing, babe. Sorry. I love you too. Just tired I guess".
The words rang hollow.
Lin looked on with a serious face.
"I'm going to unpack" he said and headed towards the RV.
"Look at that view" Rich remarked, looking at the valley below, accented by the clearest skies they'd ever seen.
"Yeah, it's amazing" she replied sounding drained.
"I'm glad you came and we got to experience this together" Rich said, caressingly her cheek. "I know it was controversial at first... but it all worked out".
"Yeah... I guess so" she replied. "Hey... babe, it's getting cold fast... why don't you get the fire going and I'll help Lin unload stuff?"
Rich smiled and nodded.
"Sounds good"
Rich wouldn't know the next part until he read the transcripts later but around the corner Emily walked to where Lin was, out of sight of Rich.
"We can't do this anymore" Emily said. "I can't hurt him like this".
"Why don't you just tell him?" Lin said. "You need to. He deserves the truth. No more lies. Look, he's my best friend and... I didn't want or expect any of this, okay? I didn't want you to even be here. You know that. But... this feeling... what we've found. It's real. You can't deny it. I don't want to hurt him either, but we have to tell him".
"No" Emily mouthed, looking at the ground, sucking back the tears.
"I feel like I'm going to be sick" she said and she did get sick. She puked on the ground several times.
Lin ran over and put his hand on her back but she battered his hand away.
Hand pressed against the RV hunched over, she spoke as spit dripped from her lips: "I'll just tell him it's his... and we'll forget this ever happened, Lin".
"Tell him what is his, Emily?" Lin asked, confused.
"My right jacket pocket" was all said said after a moment, a tear running down her face.
Lin reached in her pocket and felt a long tube shaped object. It felt like a smaller sized tooth brush holder but when he took it out and saw the blue colored + sign near the top he knew what it was.
"Oh my God" Lin muttered.
"Oh my God is right" Emily said. "I'd been feeling sick in the morning... I got it at that convenience store we stopped at yesterday when you were both at the gas pump..."
Lin stumbled back a little trying to take in this news.
Emily stood and snatched the pregnancy test back and stuck it into her coat pocket.
"I'll just tell him it's his" she said. "He'll believe me if I tell him that..."
"Maybe it really is his" Lin interjected. "How can you be sure it's mine?"
"No, it's not his..."
"How can you be sure of that, though, Emily?"
"It just can't be, okay? Just drop it..."
"No, I won't drop it" Lin said, becoming angry. "Are you serious? If it's mine I want to know. I guess you can get a blood test or something and figure out who's it is... but if it's mine I want to be in my child's life..."
"Oh jesus fucking christ, Lin" Emily shouted, a little too loud "You just found you might have knocked someone up and you want to be a daddy already?"
Lin pressed a finger to his lips for her to be quite.
"I'll just take care of it" Emily said, another tear falling down her cheek. "Don't fucking worry about it. It's nobodies baby because it won't fucking exist, okay?"
"You can't fucking do that" Lin said, grabbing her shoulder. "You just can't kill my baby if it's mine, got it? I get a say in this!"
"The fuck you do! It's my body!"
Just then Rich popped around the corner.
"Hey, everything okay?" he asked, concerned. "I heard shouting".
"Emily got sick" Lin said, thinking fast. "She freaked me out for a second when it happened but I guess I overreacted"
Rich rushed over and took Emily in her arms.
"You okay, sweetheart?" he asked.
"Yeah..." she said weakly, with watery eyes. "I guess all that driving... I think I just need to lay down. Do you and Lin need help? If not..."
"No, it's fine" Rich said. "You go lay down, we got this..."
Rich tried to help her inside but she gently pushed him away, putting on a weak smile.
"I'll be okay" she said.
"Well, Lin, I guess we better put up the tent. I think me and her should take the RV tonight with her feeling bad"
Lin nodded.
"Sounds good" he said as Emily made her way into the RV, trying to take a lighter tone. "You know, we've got to give me a better nickname already..."
He'd always hated the nickname. He said it made him sound like a chick.
"Well, what the hell else is short for Linwood?" Rich asked.
"Well, funny you mention it but Emily came up with a good nickname for me today while we were in the RV..." he said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Woody. I like it".
"Hey, that's not bad... I like it. Woody... Good job, Emily".
Emily had stopped in the entrance of the RV. If they could see her face, they would have seen her years. Without another word she went inside and shut the door.
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Woody and Rich sat up camp while Emily stayed inside the RV. Rich couldn't say she was sleeping because, looking back, she probably wasn't.
Rich spent the evening both trying to get used to Lin's new nickname and worrying about Emily. Woody, for his part, also seemed concerned and kept looking back at the RV. He also seemed nervous and on edge.
"You okay man" Rich would finally ask.
Woody would ensure him he was and then, to change the subject, started talking about old times they'd shared together.
Upon reflection, Rich should have known something was going on. But this was his best friend. He trusted him with his life. But, as Woody would say in his D&D nerd language "you're failing all of your perception roles, man"
Looking back only one of these from this conversation stood out: why they had decided to come to Yellowstone in the first place.
It had been only three months since they met and they'd found an old Ouija board at a thrift stop and brought it home. It was mostly dumb questions they asked, but Woody had asked where him and Rich should travel together and the planchette began moving immediately.
Y-E-L-L-O-W-S-T-O-N-E
It spelled out. Both had laughed at the entire thing, accusing each other of moving it. But it had gotten them to look at the library at the Encarta encyclopedia program on the school computers and they thought the place looked amazing. That's when they planned the road trip with Yellowstone as the final destination.
Eventually, Rich excused himself and said he was going to sleep. Woody nodded and headed towards the tent.
Inside Rich whispered to Emily but she didn't move. He assumed he was asleep so he laid in bed beside her and placed her arms around her. Soon he was asleep.
He didn't know what time he woke up... maybe 3am.. But Emily wasn't there. Alarmed he shot up and called her name, checking the RV for her. She wasn't there. He got dressed and put on his coat and stumbled out the door. He didn't immediately see her but he saw Woody's tent. There was a little light inside and shadows moving around. He walked over and heard moaning.
As stupid as it sounds he didn't at all expect what he saw when he unzipped the tent. He really did trust them both that much.
Inside Emily had her legs spread, her jeans off and her panties down to her ankles. Woody was finger fucking herm kissing her neck, rubbing a hand over a belly that Rich had no idea held a baby. Woody's cock was out and Emily was jerking it with her hand.
Rich stumbled back in shock.
"What... what.... THE FUCK!" he stammered.
They hadn't even noticed the tent over but when he did they both rushed for cover.
Emily screamed his name.
"Rich!" she shouted. "I... um... it's not what you think!"
Rich tried to talk but couldn't make any words come out.
"Why.... why...?" he finally managed as Woody emerged from the tent, looking at the ground.
"I don't know what to tell you man... it just... happened..."
"Just happened!?" Rich asked. "How long as this been going on!?"
"Weeks" Woody said.
Emily say in the rent, legs crossed shut, her head buried in her knees.
"HOW COULD YOU!?" he shouted at them both. He screamed to the night sky and ran a hand across is face so hard it felt like his skin would come off.
Woody walked forward, attempting to grab Rich to calm him. Rich snapped and pushed him.
"GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" Rich screamed, knocking Woody to the ground. Woody didn't retaliate, but attempted to stand.
Rich would tell the cops the next moments were a blur and it was the truth. All he could remember was something snapping in him. He remembering hitting Woody with a log from the fire, the hot embers striking his face in a shower of sparks. He remembering yanking a screaming and pleading Emily out of the tent. She had never even put her panties on so she was naked from the waist down. She had managed to break free, though and so he chased her.
Emily had ran track in school, so she was fast, but barefoot and half naked Rich had kept up. Her heavy jacket wasn't helping her either. Behind them he heard Woody screaming for him to stop, having apparently pulled himself off the ground.
He couldn't say how the knife got into his coat jacket. He didn't remember putting it there.
He chased her for quite awhile. It was totally empty here. No one lived here. No one.
Finally he caught up, grabbing her by the leg and causing her to face plat against the ground hard. She begged and she cried for him to stop. She told him how sorry she was. That is was her fault but to please not hurt her.
Something fell out of her pocket... It was long and like a cylinder. He picked it up and held it to the moon light.
It was a pregnancy test. It was covered in dirt but even through the dirt he could make out the blue + symbol.
His eyes moved from the test to her eyes, wide and full of tears.
"Please don't hurt our baby" she said, pleading.
Rich looked at her with angry eyes. In that moment, he felt like a different person. He felt empty of all emotion or care.
"You know it's not ours" he said plainly and reached for his pocket. When he gripped the cold steel handle he didn't understand how he knew it was there, nor did he feel like he had control over his actions. It was as if there were strings attached to him, stretching into the night, and someone was pulling the knife out of his pocket.
That was when he heard the voice for the first time, but it would be far from the last.
"Not here" the voice commanded. "Go further"
Of all the things that happened that night it was the look in Emily's eyes that haunted Rich the most. because when he stopped and put the knife away for a split second there was hope in Emily's eyes. Like everything was going to be okay. Then, immediately after, as he began to drag her by her leg across the ground her eyes switched to immediate fear of the most profound sort.
She knew she was going to die. As each jagged rock on the ground cut into her flesh and each bush cut and scratched her, she knew her life was going to come to an end.
Woody was closing in as he heard the voice say "HERE".
Rich stopped dragged her, stood over her and retrieved the knife.
She didn't scream. She didn't beg. She didn't plea.
All she said was "I know I hurt you. I'm sorry. I love you. I hope you can forgive me someday".
The knife plunged into Emily's stomach and sliced it open and blood spilled out and she screamed in pain.
Rich dropped the knife and stepped back, realizing what he had done.
"NO!" he screamed. "No!!"
He rushed over to Emily and screamed how sorry he was and to hang on he would get help. He took her in her arms.
She looked onto his eyes one last one. It was a look of forgiveness, Rich hoped.... but also pity. By the time Woody reached them she had already bled out in his arms.
Woody stopped in his tracks, looking on at them in horror.
"Rich... what the fuck did you do?" he stammered.
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He'd been at the police station for several hours. When the police came, he hadn't resisted arrest, although they had to pull him off of Emily's body. He hadn't left it, even when Woody left to find a pay phone to call the cops. It had taken him hours, because the sun was rising by the time they arrived.
Woody, his supposed loyal best friend, at immediately told the cops everything. Not that it mattered. He'd been found with the body with the blood literally on his hand. And, moments earlier, he'd confessed to everything. All the cops had to do was ask him questions based on Woody's story and he said "yes" each time to confirm it was true.
The cops both sighed and shook their heads, looking at each other when they were done.
"You want something?" they asked him. "Some coffee?"
Rich shook his head.
"We'll be back" one of them said and they left.
Rich put his head down on the steel table and a tear smacked hard against it.
We'll, I'm fucked, he thought to himself. But I deserve it.
Suddenly the door swung open. He had expected to see the cops but instead a man with slightly long hair, a gray suit with a hastily tucked and unbuttoned collar shirt, floral tie loose knotted tie came into the room. He carried a ratty briefcase.
"Don't say another fucking word!" the man said.
The cops came into the room next.
"What do you think you're doing?" one asked. "Who are you?"
"I'm Mr. Clay's attorney" the man in the suit said. "And you're violating his Constitutional rights by questioning him without me present"
--------------------------------------------------------
There was a period of arguing between the lawyer and the cops.
"He's already confessed!" one of the cops shouted angerly, shaking his cup of coffee so that some spilt over the lid of the Styrofoam cup.
"Confessed? To what?" the lawyer pressed.
"TO MURDER!"
"Doesn't matter" the lawyer said with a smirk.
"What do you mean it doesn't matter?" the cop said laughing, looking at his partner. "We have him dead to rights".
"Well, if that's the case than it shouldn't matter if Mr. Clay gets to exercise his Constitutional rights, than does it?"
One of the cops made an audible sound of pushing air of of his mouth while the other laughed and shook his head. They both looked at Rich, one of them motioning with a hand towards the lawyer with a bemused look as if to say: this your guy?
Rich was about to shake his head. He didn't want anything to do with this guy. He didn't care. He was guilty and that was that, but then that voice popped in his head again:
"SAY YES".
So he did.
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"Jesus kid" the lawyer said, taking a seat and tossing his briefcase on the table. "I've never seen someone so eager to go to prison forever in my life"
"Who are you and how did you find out about me?" Rich asked, looking at the lawyer suspiciously
"Wow, you're great a warm friendly introductions" the man said, smiling, but he got serious once he saw Rich didn't smile back.
"OK, fine, straight and to the point I like it... This is, after all, a serious matter. Well, my name is Paul Blunt. I'm a Constitutional Lawyer with the Idaho Constitution Society and.. let's just say I was compelled to be here".
Paul moved in for a handshake but Rich held up his hands, cuffed to the table, helplessly. Paul smiled and nodded.
"Compelled?" Rich asked. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Well, I have a duty, I guess you should say..." he responded vaguely. "I mean, everyone has the right to a lawyer! That's what the Constitution says!"
"No thanks. I'll just get a Public Defender" Rich replied. "This isn't complicated really: I'm guilty".
"A Public Pretender!?" Paul shouted, laughing. "Oh come on! Why when you've got me!? You get a Public Pretender you'll be spending the rest of your life in prison..."
"Maybe I'm good with that" Rich responded. "Look, I already confessed, so it really doesn't matter".
"Did you sign anything?" Paul asked.
"No"
"Than that does not fucking matter in the slightest" Paul responded. "Look, you hire me and I will get you off... and I don't mean in the same way your girlie was gettin' off that snake friend of yours"
Rich glared at the lawyer... but, in that moment he felt those words do something to him inside. He moved from simply wanting to be punished to feeling anger... and wanting... revenge.
"Look, it's not like I can afford a lawyer anyway" he said. "Even one like you".
"Whoa! Shit kid! What's that suppose to mean" Paul said, making a show of an invisible dagger being stuck in his heart. "That cuts deep, really deep".
"Not as deep as I cut her" Rich said and as soon as the words came out of his mouth he felt his stomach not and couldn't believe he'd said it.
Paul slapped him on the shoulder.
"That's the spirit! Don't just roll over and die!"
"What's your rate?" Rich asked, not really committing, just curious.
"That's the best part, kid" Paul replied, rocking back in his chair, arms out stretched and palms up. "I'll be defending you pro bono!"
Rich looked at him confused.
"--that means for free!"
"No, I know what it means" Rich said. "Why would you do that? Why would some lawyer from the... Idaho Constitution Society defend me? A murderer? I mean is that something your... society or whatever is even good with"
"Well, actually..." Paul said, sheepishly. "The Idaho Constitution Society is just me"
"What?"
"I'm the only member. I'm also the founder".
Rich couldn't help but laugh.
"Hey, that's an improvement" Paul said, unoffended. "We all got dreams, kid. You understand".
Rich did... but all of those, seemed lost. He felt his stomach tighten again and was eager to shake his mind at ease.
"Okay, so why would you -- this random lawyer with their own Constitutional society -- want to represent me for free?"
"Because kid this case is a Constitutional lawyers wet dream and when I get out off I'll be famous behind my wildest dreams... and because... well, you won't understand this right now but some day I suspect you will but: this is part of something bigger. Everyone has a role to play and this is mine".
Paul slumped back in his chair and laughed to himself.
"I've waiting over 10 years for this day, you know. This is my calling. I get to fulfill my purpose now and collect my reward".
"What the hell does that mean?" Rich asked, but Paul didn't answer and many years later Rich would come to understand all to well what the lawyer had meant that day.
"Look kid, I'll make you this promise: you hire me and you'll walk" he said. "I guarantee it".
"Lawyers are never suppose to guarantee shit like that" Rich responded.
"Well I do" Paul said, coolly.
Rich thought for a second before responding with a sigh.
"Look, I appreciate it, but I deserve what I get. Prison is too good for me, honestly. Maybe they'll give me the chair. Is that something they still do in Idaho? Or Wyoming? I don't even know where the fuck I killed her at".
A sly smile crept onto Paul's face as Rich said this.
"How about this: I'll make a deal with you" he said. "You let me help you walk and then you do whatever you want. You can move on with your life and live until you die on your death bed at a ripe old age... or, you can stick a gun in your mouth and blow your brains out if you really feel that's the end you deserve so much. That will be your choice and I won't be there to try and stop you. Whatever happens after I get you free is none of my concern nor on me. That's up to you and... other forces I guess you should say. I will have fulfilled my role. Besides, it'll be easier for you to kill yourself a free man than with those cuffs on or in a cell, kid, believe me. So what do you say? Want to make history together? Want to get started getting you out of those?"
He gestured to the cuffs.
Rich thought for a moment and a voice in his head told him to say "yes".
So he did.
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Paul popped over his brief case with a dramatic snap and opened it.
"You asked a minute ago whether you were in Idaho or Wyoming" Paul began, pulling out and unfolding a large map from his brief case. "The answer is neither".
"Because Yellowstone is a federal park" Rich nodded in understanding.
"Now you're getting it!" Paul said. "Except murder is still a crime on federal property I'm afraid... but have you ever heard of The Yellowstone Zone of Death?"
"This better not be some fucking joke about me killing my girlfriend" Rich said.
"Haha! Good one" Paul said, laughing and pointing his finger. "But no, the Yellowstone Zone of Death existed long before you murdered your girlfriend"
Rich looked at Paul coolly but waited for him to continue.
"Anyway" Paul continued, swallowing hard. "Perhaps it is a little ironic you were actually inside The Yellowstone Zone of Death when the murder occurred, I'll give you that, but that's not the important part..."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
"Okay, so what's so special about the this... 'zone of death'?"
"You're into criminal justice, right? That's what I read in the police report, anyway" Paul said. "So you know the Sixth Amendment, right?"
"Of course" Rich said. "It's the right to a speedy and public trial..."
"Bingo!" Paul said. "Hey, you might have a future in this after all! Maybe you can be the second member of the Idaho Constitutional Society!"
"Hard pass" Rich replied.
"Fair enough" Paul said. "Anyway, it's not just the right to a speedy and public trial, though. It's the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed".
Rich leaned forward, suddenly more interested.
Paul pointed to a squared section of the map in red:
[ IMG] [https://i.ibb.co/t2QXxWD/Yellowstone-Zone-of-Death.png]
"That's the Yellowstone Zone of Death and that's where you were when you committed the murder" Paul continued. "You were just inside it, in fact"
Paul paused, chuckling to himself and shaking his head.
"Damn it feels crazy to just come out and call you a murderer and not use the word alleged because we don't even have to worry about it..."
Rich looked at him with tight eyes.
"Sorry" Paul said. "Got caught up in the moment. Look, here's the deal kid: The United States District Court for the District of Wyoming is currently the only United States district court to have jurisdiction over parks of multiple states because it includes all of Yellowstone which extends slightly beyond Wyoming's boundaries into Idaho and Montana. Also, since it's a federal part as you so astutely pointed out the federal government has exclusive jurisdiction over the park, so crimes committed in the park cannot be prosecuted under any state's laws..."
Paul paused to make sure Rich was following. Rich leaned in and nodded for him to continue.
"Now, trials in the district court are normally held at the federal courthouse in Cheyenne. However, the Sixth Amendment requires that juries in federal criminal cases must be made up of citizens who are from both the district and state where the crime was committed. So this means that any crime committed in the area of the park in Idaho would have to be tried before a jury consisting completely of residents of that area and would also have to take place in that area..."
"And since the Yellowstone Zone of Death doesn't have any courthouses and no one lives there, they couldn't assemble a jury" Rich continued, nodding.
Paul smiled.
"So, Richard Clay, you cannot receive a fair trail under the Constitution and therefore cannot receive legal punishment for any crimes because a jury cannot be assembled and there's no place to hold trial. It doesn't even matter if you confessed because who will be able to hear the confession if there's no court? Hell, I would argue that since there's no valid federal or state court to prosecute you in that even a signed plea would be invalid..."
"This is fucking crazy" Rich said finally.
"I know right!" Paul said, laughing.
There was a pause and both fell silent.
"So...?" Paul said.
Rich thought hard. This gave him options... but did he deserve it? It felt like he was going to get off when he didn't deserve. Still, Paul was right. He could take an option that took him out of this world if he wanted. He could make his life as miserable as he wanted.
Then the voice came. "Do it" it said.
So he did.
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It didn't happen overnight. It took years.
Eventually he was allowed bond, although Paul argued that they had no authority to even grant him bond: that they just had to let him go. Eventually, within the first year, Paul won a major court battle and they had to let Rich free without any bond pending the bigger lawsuit about jurisdiction and the Sixth Amendment. After all, they couldn't hold him if they had no jurisdiction to do so. They couldn't even make Rich stay in the area and he considered just fleeing. Hiding out in a cabin somewhere until either they lost or he won -- either way, he would pull the trigger that way.
But Paul convinced him not to. He said it sent a stronger message if he stayed in the area during the fight, so he did. Paul even gave him a back room to sleep in in the office of the Idaho Constitutional Society, which was nothing but a space Paul rented in a former Little Ceasers location in a dilapidated strip mall.
Overtime Paul helped Rich feel like maybe there was more to life. That maybe a path of redemption was more than just a bullet to the head, but doing something bigger.
Then 9/11 happened. Him and Paul watched the plane hit the second tower from his little strip mall office, eating General Tso's Chicken from the Chinese place across the street.
"It's a fucking false flag" Paul said. "I'm telling you. This is all bullshit to start eroding the Constitution more! Goddammit!"
He angerly pounded a fist on the table.
But for Rich, it was the first time in years he remembered what had drawn him into law enforcement in the first place: that greater purpose and the power that came along with it.
About a year later, their case having made it's way up in the courts, he was watching a ABC Evening News special report about the "War on Terror" as they called it and the potential rise of terrorist cells within the country. While Paul screamed at the TV, Rich was glued to it.
Then, a familiar face was on the screen.
At the bottom were the words: Special Agent Linwood "Woody" O'Keefe.
Rich stood and knocked off his food.
"Hey, isn't that your boy" Paul said, mouth full of food.
Rich ignored him. As Rich listened to his former friend speak, his blood began to boil.
This self-righteous son of a bitch. He gets this royal treatment after what he did.
It turned out Lin or Woody or whatever the fuck that two faced cunt's name was had gone far in his law enforcement career, joining the newly formed Department of Homeland Security after 9/11.
If only these people knew what you did, you piece of shit.
A year later their case had actually received some national attention as it had been picked up by the Supreme Court of the United States, who ruled in a 5-4 decision that there was no federal or state jurisdiction to charge Rich with murder and that he could not be given his Sixth Amendment right to a trial by jury because of where the crime had been committed.
Paul had been right and they had won.
After that Rich faded into the background while Paul rode the wave of success. Paul was featured on the cover of countless magazines, which Rich refused every request for an interview.
Rich wanted to get into law enforcement and he knew that would be impossible if he kept reminding people he had committed murder and got away with it.
Eventually, things died down and then Rich got news: his mother had died.
His father had died years earlier and he had no siblings. He found out his aunt was making the funeral arrangements and got in touch with her. She encouraged him to attend the funeral, so he did.
He flew home to Virginia. It was the first true day of Fall, his Aunt said, and the leaves were bright colors.
Rich kept a low profile at the funeral. He wore dark glasses. He'd also grown a beard. He was there to pay his respects, not to get noticed.
No one seemed to recognize him or care he was there.
As they lowered his mother's casket he noticed someone way in the distance, standing beside a large grave marker. Rich and the figure made eye contact and the figure disappeared behind the grave.
It was Woody.
After the funeral his Aunt dropped him off as his childhood home to see if he wanted to get some things.
"Anything you don't want we'll just sell in an estate sale, if that's okay with you" she said.
Rich nodded. The less he had to be involved the better.
She'd given him the key and he went up to his room. He looked around and couldn't help but smile at the memories until he got to the photo on his dresser: it was a photo of him and Emily from when they'd been together. He hadn't seen a photo of her in years. He'd avoided them on purpose. He reached for it and laid it down on the dresser. It made a crunching sound against the wood and then there was a voice behind him
"I thought you might come home".
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Rich didn't have to turn to know who it was. He took a deep breath.
"What are you doing here Woody?" he asked.
He turned to face him. It was the man he remembered, a little older now and in better physical shape. He wore a badge and a gun at his side in a holster.
"That is what you're going by now isn't it?" Rich asked coldly. "Woody?"
Woody nodded.
"I came to ask why you're still alive" Woody said.
Rich looked at him suspiciously.
"If you're asking how I avoided death row I think you can read about that in the magazines" he said.
"No" he replied. "I know all about that. I'm asking why you're still alive. You see, I asked that ambulance chasing lawyer of yours years ago why he was helping a murderer like you get away with it. He told me it was his job to make sure everyone got the best representation possible. I expected that and I didn't ask him why he was doing it for free, because I knew it was the fame from such a high profile chase. I told that if he was successful to tell you to make sure I'd see justice was served and you know what he said? He said I won't have to worry about it. That he was sure that when it was over you were going to off yourself... and you know what? Even though I felt it was an easy out, I was good with that. I could accept it. Hell, I could respect it to a degree..."
"...But, here you are, standing here in the flesh. Walking around, living life, taking a trip down memory lane... and she's dead. She's dead and in the ground and you're here".
Rich didn't say anything, just looked at him hard, feeling his temperature rise.
"Look at her, Rich. Lift that picture and look at her, you coward! You murderer her and you got away with it! She was innocent and she was good and she didn't deserve that! You took her away from me!"
"TOOK HER AWAY FROM YOU!?" Rich snapped, stepping forward and getting into the face of his former friend. "YOU TOOK HER FROM ME! YOU FUCKED HER! YOU BETRAYED ME! THIS IS ON YOU!"
Spittle ran down Rich's face and suddenly Woody's face contorted and he slammed him against his childhood dresser hard. Rich felt the pain in his back. It was intense, but he would not let Woody see it. He stood up and faced him.
"Don't you dare put this on me" Woody said, glaring at Rich.
"Why wouldn't I?" Rich said, sneering. "You betrayed your best friend. You knew what she meant to me and you did it anyway... Admit it!"
"You didn't deserve her!" Woody shouted.
"Bullshit!" Rich said. "You don't even believe that... and everything that happened was because of your betrayal. I accept what I did, but you can't accept what you did, can you? I didn't mean to kill her. I... I don't even know who that was that night. But I accept that I did it... But you, Woody, you can't even accept that you betrayed me and set it all into motion".
Woody didn't say anything. His jaw tensed. Rich could tell he'd hit a nerve.
"I mean God, fuck you Woody... Even that fucking name Woody. Remember what you told me about that? Huh? You told me the night it happened. You told me that Emily had just given you that nickname. I know what you two were doing in the back. You think I don't know why she came up with that name? You think I don't know why she paused going into the RV when you said it?"
Woody's face flushed with guilt and surprise.
"That's why, fucker. I've had years to think about it and figure it out. Years."
"You think that justifies what you did, don't you?" Woody said. "You piece of shit. You killed Emily. You killed the baby!"
"Your baby, Woody" Rich corrected. "I killed your baby".
Woody was taken aback.
"You can't know that" he said. "It could have been either of us".
"Actually, I do know that" Rich responded a-matter-of-a-factly. "You see, I can't have children. I'm completely sterile. Baseball accident in Middle School before you knew me. Ball hit me right in my nuts. Fucked them up good. Only person I ever told was Emily. I'm guessing by the stupid look on your face she didn't tell you that".
Woody just stared at Rich, remembering Emily's words the night of the murder: It just can't be, okay? Just drop it...
"So, you see, it can only have been your baby I killed, Woody. Unless Emily was fucking someone else on our road trip with just the three of us, which seems highly unlikely"
Rich looked off into space.
"That was a bit a touchy issue with Emily" he said, wistfully. "You see, she always wanted kids someday and I had to tell her I couldn't give them to her. She accepted it, but I could tell it always bothered her. We were so fucking young yet I thought we'd be together forever".
He turned to Woody.
"I thought we'd be friends forever too, until you betrayed me"
Woody still hadn't recovered from the bomb shell so Rich needled him more.
"Don't feel so bad about it, Woody" Rich said sighing. "She didn't want your baby, anyway, remember? She wanted to kill it, isn't that right? I just... sped up the process".
Rich smirked and Woody looked up in shock.
"Oh don't look so shocked" Rich said. "I read the transcripts of what you said to the police"
Rich laughed and shook his head.
"Fucking Lin. Always a fucking Boy Scout. You couldn't leave one goddamn detail out, even the embarrassing ones. I wonder how Emily would feel about you shaming her reputation after she's dead by telling the police shit like that on public record where everyone can see... Tsk, tsk..."
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Woody suddenly screamed out of nowhere and charged Rich again pressing him hard against the dresser, causing any remaining items to tumble off. He put his hands across Rich and squeezed.
"Do... it...!" Rich choked. "Do it! Get... those... hands... dirty... that... fancy... badge..."
Woody suddenly came to his senses and dropped Rich, who tumbled to the floor, coughing and laughing.
"Fucking... Boy.. Scout..."
Rich rose to his feet.
"I guess that's what people with a fancy badge and gun do, huh?" Rich said, still struggling for breath. "Wait until I get mine, I'll show you how it's done".
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Woody asked.
"I'm going to get into law enforcement like I'd planned... I'm going to show you how it's done... I'll make things right, you'll see..."
"They'll never let you into any law enforcement with your record" Woody said, shaking his head.
"What record? My record is clean. Go ahead and run a background check. They even threw out the charge because it couldn't legally exist" Rich said, laughing.
Woody was fuming again.
"Unless... you want to stop me, Woody" Rich said, still laughing. "Go ahead! Pull out your gun! Shoot me! Kill me now and you'll stop me from being better than you!"
Woody's trigger finger inched. He fondled the top of his gun eagerly but slowly pulled away his hand.
"Never" he said. "I'll never come down to your level".
Rich shrugged. "You'll have to come up to my level soon, I'm afraid".
Woody smirked.
"That's where you're wrong. You'll never get a job in law enforcement. Ever. I'll make sure of it. Anytime you try to apply for a job as so much a security guard they'll be getting a phone call and will find out all about your past"
Rich sneered.
Woody leaned in so far into Rich's face he could taste his breath.
"Emily said I was better than you" he whispered.
He smirked, turned and walked out.
Rich picked the picture frame off the dresser and smashed it into a thousand tiny glinting pieces.
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It didn't take long before Rich figured out Woody had stayed true to his word. Every time he'd try for a job in law enforcement it would be looking good and then he'd have to call them back and they'd tell him the position was filled. Eventually he managed to get a couple to amid they'd received the call.
Woody even fucked him out of a job as a dog catcher.
Eventually, Rich settled into a job as a over the road truck driver. Either the owner of the company didn't care or Woody didn't enough to call, because after getting his CDL he quickly got the job.
He liked the job too. He could have done it forever, he imagined. Travelling over the open road.
He did it for several years until one day his route was changed at the last minute with the new route taking him directly through Indiana.
When he asked his supervisor why he shrugged and said "I don't ask questions. We all have a role to play in this"
Rich looked at him hard but just shook his head, thinking it was just a weird coincidence.
He hit the road and eventually made it to Indiana. He was driving by a large storage center when he heard a voice beside him call his name. He turned, but of course no one was there, but when he turned back car was in his lane headed straight for him. He tried to swerve but hit the car head on, killing everyone inside. His truck went into the ditch and the cab disconnected from the trailer, flipping over.
As he lay upside down, blood dripping from his forehead, struggling to undo his seatbelt the voice came into his foggy head, louder than he'd ever heard it:
Maine.
Maine.
Maine.
He received serious but non-life threatening injuries. The accident was deemed not his fault. For reasons unknown the person behind the wheel had just veered right in front of him.
He never went back to work at the trucking company. He never went back South. Instead he decided listen to the strong feelings he had inside and went to Maine.
And it didn't take him long to find his calling once there. He was barely over the border when he stopped in a town, walked into the Sheriff's Department and asked to speak to the Sheriff.
Sheriff Gray was a burly man with a big gut. He'd been Sheriff 20 years at that point.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"I'd like to apply for a job" he said.
"As what?"
"A Sheriff's Deputy"
"Do you have any... law enforcement experience, son?" Sheriff Gray asked.
"No, not really, sir" Rich admitted.
The Sheriff looked at him hard, intrigued.
"Have a seat, son".
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He couldn't believe it when he got the job. He assumed this small place in Maine was out of Woody's reach but that didn't explain him just being given a position so fast.
It wasn't an official job. He wasn't a Deputy. He would just be Mr. Clay. But he did have a small role.
"Special Assistant to Sheriff Gray".
"If anyone asks, tell them you for a Sheriff's Department in some hick town in Virginia, got it, Deputy Clay?" the Sheriff had told him. He nodded.
And so it went on for years. He was involved in law enforcement. He earned the respect and admiration of the Deputies on the force and the people around him. He was starting to put the past behind him.
He also learned a thing or two about Sheriff Gray. Gray not only knew where all the bodies were buried, he was crooked. He had one demand of him and his deputies: loyalty above all. Those who met this demand prospered and those who didn't not only lost their jobs, Gray would make sure they got out of town and never came back.
As the years past, Rich had become the Sheriff's right hand. Loyal and trustworthy. As Gray aged, Rich wondered when he might retire and thought maybe he was grooming Rich to become the new Sheriff when he did retire.
But that day never seem to come and overtime Rich was running out of patience. Not only that, Gray had refused to make him a Deputy. The hungry he once had for power was returning as was the reminder that he'd vowed to become greater than Woody, who he'd kept up with over the years and had raised way up the ranks. Meanwhile, Rich was more popular than ever with the people of the town and the Deputies. Gray, on the other hand, was slipping in popularity. He'd also become increasingly erratic and at time seemed to be losing his grasp on reality with his age and people were noticing.
Sheriff Gray never had a challenger in elections, though. No one had the guts to step up.
One day several of the deputies invited him to dinner. Rich thought it would just be a night with the boys but soon he realized it was more than that: they aimed to convince him to run against the Sheriff.
"Hell, more than half the force will back you" they said.
"The town loves you. They know Gray needs to go. They'll support you" they said.
And after thinking about it, he decided to do just that. They all decided to keep the plans secret until the election but this was a foolish idea. They had forgotten about Sheriff Gray's grip on the town and it wasn't long before Rich was called into his office.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Rich said.
"Sit down, Clay" the Sheriff said.
Rich complied.
The Sheriff tossed something to him and Rich caught it. It was a Deputy Sheriff's badge.
"Try it on" Gray said. "See how it fits".
Rich obliged, feeling a mix of pride and guilt.
"It's been a long time coming, I guess" the Sheriff said.
"Thank you, sir" Rich managed.
"Unfortunately, Clay, that isn't all we have to talk about..."
"Sir?"
"Clay, I'll get right to the point. I know you're planning on running against me and I'm here to tell you not to do it..."
"Yes, sir" Rich admitted. "I am... I just feel like, maybe we... need some new leadership"
Rich felt awkward and didn't really know what to say. It was the best he could come up with.
"No... no we don't" Gray responded. "Clay, this is my town, you understand? I am the leadership. I am this town. I will always be this town until I am dead and in the ground. You got it?"
"Sir..." Rich stammered, not knowing what to say.
"You disappoint me, Clay" the Sheriff said, sighing. "After everything I've done for you. You had no experience when you came in here, Clay, you remember that dontcha? Yet I hired you anyway, and you know why?"
Rich shook his head.
"I saw potential. That's why. I saw someone I knew could keep his mouth shut and be loyal and do what needed to be done and up until now you've done nothing but impress me and make me proud. It's a damn shame, really. A damn shame".
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, sir" Rich said, actually feeling guilty.
"You know I know, right?" the Sheriff said after a long moment, gazing into Rich's eyes.
"Know what, sir?"
"I know all about your past" he said smiling. Rich grew cold.
"I knew the moment you came through the goddamn door. You don't think I recognized you?"
The Sheriff pulled out a copy of Newsweek. It was an old one and flopped it on the table. It was a picture of him and Paul. He hadn't agreed to a photoshoot so they'd used his mugshot.
Rich didn't know what to say.
"That's how I knew you'd be exactly what I was looking for: a loyal right hand. Someone I could trust. Someone that would do whatever was asked of them without a word. Truth is, Clay, you're my gopher and nothing more. You didn't do nothin' to earn that tin star you got on you now. Nothing. You've been a hell of a gopher, don't get be wrong, but nothing more".
Rich was truly speechless. He felt his heart sink. He felt wounded. He had never really known his father, but he imagined if he had this was what his father telling him he was a pathetic piece of shit would like.
"Hell" Sheriff Gray continued. "I never got a call from some asshole Boy Scout fed boy warning me against hiring you".
Rich looked up. Looks like he wasn't out of Woody's reach after all.
"But all it did was confirm I made the right call. But, of course, I put on my best dipshit Sheriff talkin' to the big ol' powerful federal man voice and thanked him for letting me know and assured him I'd never hire a murderer like you".
The Sheriff laughed and pulled out a bottle of bourbon and a single glass from his bottom drawer and poured himself a glass.
"I know you think all those Deputies just love you and all the townsfolk love you but how would they feel if they found out about the real you, Clay? Hmmm?" Sheriff Gray asked.
"So..." he continued. "Here's the deal: You don't run against me and I let you keep the badge you just got. You can finally play deputy and keep everyone's illusion of who and what you are and we can just forget this entire thing.... or I fire your ass and tell everyone it's because I found out about your past and introduce everyone to the murdering son of a bitch that you are. You're a smart guy, Clay. I think you know the right choice, hm?"
Rich looked down and stood, nodding. He had removed his belt under the table.
"Yes, sir, I do" he said.
"Good" Gray responded with a powerful smirk before turning his back to him with the glass of whiskey in hand. "Now get the fuck out".
He tipped the glass to take a sip but the whiskey didn't touch his lips as Rich wrapped the belt around his neck and tightened. The glass hit the ground and bounced on the floor, spilling Pappy Van Winkle all over the carpet. Sheriff Gray struggled, but he was a big man who was out of shape and easily winded. It didn't take much and minimal noise for Rich to snatch his life from him and consume his power.
And, just like that, he became Sheriff Clay.
And so it went on for years into the The Time of Xir when he would be called into service.