Authors: Paul Adan
One of those drivers was Robert Matson. He had been adjusting the radio to a classic-rock station, and had fortunately looked up in a nick of time. Like everyone else, he stomped on the brake pedal, and avoided a fender bender with only inches to spare. Looking around, his eyes immediately locked onto the inconsiderate reprobate who had just crossed the street on the tiny bicycle. Robert was beside himself with anger, and briefly considered giving chase to the bicyclist. By now, however, Jason was a full block away – while he, Robert, was still stuck in traffic. Robert decided not to pursue.
A LITTLE while later, Jason arrived at his place of work and parked his bicycle behind a bush. Also stashed behind the bush was an old sign, which he had periodically maintained by re-tracing the words with a big, fat magic marker. The sign read: “PLEASE HELP. Homeless, and must support family. ANYTHING will help.” And by “ANYTHING,” Jason meant money. In fact, it
kinda ticked him off whenever some driver offered to buy him a hamburger, or a can of vegetables at a nearby grocery store. He particularly despised those who suggested he do yard work around their houses – even though, when he was younger, he had done yard work.
Before starting work, Jason sat down on a large rock and ate a sandwich which he’d brought with him in a knapsack. He washed it down with a warm beer. When he was done eating and drinking, he propped the knapsack on top of his bike, smiled as he looked at his sign, and then walked over to the stop at the end of the exit ramp. Along the way – from the bush to the road – he reached down and picked up a pinch of dirt, and then rubbed it vigorously onto his forehead and cheeks. After tousling his hair a bit, Jason was now ready work.
Begging for money on the side of a road was one of his least favorite jobs. Sure, it wasn’t a bad gig because he had complete freedom to come and go as he pleased. He also didn’t have to worry about an overbearing boss, and he certainly didn’t have to go to work when it was raining. Still, he thought it was beneath him to have to ask others for money. He had pride, and deep down inside he harbored the belief that he deserved to enjoy life and happiness as much as the rich fat-cats who drove by in their cars. And besides, Jason reasoned, they were robbing HIM because they were nothing but consumers; their abundance meant there was less wealth to spread around to all those who were less fortunate.
But there was another more pressing reason why Jason disliked the job. Whenever he stood on the side of a road panhandling, it meant he was desperate for money. And whenever he was desperate for money, it meant he was unable to feed the beast within him.
And feed it, he must!
JASON’S INNER beast was his heroin addiction. Initially, when he had first become hooked years earlier, this beast had helped him cope with life’s worries and troubles. It had even provided a semblance of happiness. Jason loved getting high, and though it was a fleeting sensation, it was a completely effective way to escape from reality. But as time wore on, he began to see the beast in a totally different light.
Desperately, Jason tried to reassert his dominance over the beast. Sometimes he had argued with it, and sometimes he’d tried starving it into submission. But this beast of his rarely took “no” for an answer, and was always very persuasive. “
Never mind that your body is wasting away
,” it would tell him, “
someday you can release me and I’ll be free from you. Better yet, you’ll be free from me. But in the mean time, I DEMAND that you feed me!
” And so, Jason had continued to feed him; day-in, day-out, year after year, rain or sunshine. In no time at all, the beast which had once seemed like a cute and furry companion while still in its infancy had grown up to become a raging monster. Silently, insidiously, before he knew what was happening, Jason the Master had become Jason the Slave.
Stuart Co. Jail, Tank 3D
18 September, 12:23 PM
EVER SINCE Josh had overheard the conversation between the lieutenants a week or two prior, he’d been hoping for an opportunity to hear more. Unfortunately, even though he’d been eavesdropping on a daily basis, the conversation about Lucky’s and the stabbing never came up again. Still, Josh was undeterred. He knew that his life, along with the lives of Edward and Jerry, hung in the balance; any information he gathered might be crucial in proving their innocence.
In the course of spying on Marcus and the lieutenants, Josh had acquired numerous bits of information. Not only had he learned a lot about them – such as which foods each of them liked and disliked, and how many times Marcus got up at night to go to the bathroom – he was also beginning to piece together the organizational
structure of their little jail-house gang. Surprisingly, Josh discovered, Marcus was not the leader of the gang. He was just a high ranking member who was beholden to others in the same way that the lieutenants were beholden to him.
PRESENTLY, JOSH and four or five other guys were watching the 12 o’clock news when a “Breaking News” alert flashed
in tickertape fashion across the bottom of the screen. At first, Josh barely paid any attention to the alert because, just then, he noticed three of Marcus’ lieutenants sitting down at a nearby table. That’s when someone at his own table pointed a finger at the TV and said, “Check it out, man. There’s Josh.”
Josh looked up, and was flabbergasted. There on the screen w
ere three separate side by side photographs of himself, Edward, and Jerry. Underneath the photos was a single caption that read, “LOCAL BOYS TO BE CHARGED WITH MURDER.” Off to the side of the screen, a news anchorwoman was droning on about the unfolding story. For a few seconds, Josh didn’t hear a word she said. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and he couldn’t understand how this was all happening to him and his two friends.
As he soaked it all in, Josh noticed that the three lieutenants were whispering, and casting occasional glances in his direction. Josh was dying to know what they were saying, but they were too far away and too discreet in their conversation. M
aking matters worse, the guys at Josh’s table were now excitedly bombarding him with questions. Even if Josh had been close enough to hear the lieutenants, it was now an impossible endeavor.
For about ten minutes, Josh tried to explain to the guys sitting at the table what had happened at
Lucky’s. But his mind was elsewhere; his thoughts were mostly focused on the ramifications of the new charges being leveled against him. Periodically, he thought about all the conversations he’d overheard between Oscar, Marcus, and the other lieutenants.
After a while, the guys at the table could sense that Josh didn’t really want to answer any more questions so they left him alone. When the sportscaster came on with a report about the Mustangs,
a local high school team, their attention completely shifted in another direction. Sensing an opportunity to be alone, Josh got up from the table and returned to his bunk.
JOSH WAS not the type of person to wallow in self-pity. When he arrived at his bunk, he crawled into his bed and continued to analyze how he should respond to being charged with murder. He rightly surmised that he and Edward would probably be facing
Second Degree murder, but Jerry would probably be facing Aggravated First Degree murder. Then there were the original charges of assault, and destruction of property; those charges would likely remain in place. On top of that, the chance that any of them would get out on bail had just gone from slim to none. All things considered, Josh concluded, things had just gotten a lot more complicated.
Once he’d figured out where he currently stood, figuratively speaking, Josh now began planning where he wanted to go. This involved making an extra effort in the coming days to eavesdrop on Marcus and his lieutenants. Clearly, they knew who he was and that he was one of the individuals falsely charged for the incident at
Lucky’s. Moreover, they might think back and remember seeing him eavesdropping on them from time to time during the last several weeks, and now consider him to be a threat. What this all meant to Josh, from a tactical standpoint, was that the enemy had been stirred into action from behind its cloak of secrecy – and it was up to Josh to watch and listen, and see how they respond.
Stuart Co. Jail, Tank 4NorthB
18 September, 2:42 PM
SHORTLY AFTER the news report aired on TV, Jerry’s attorney called to tell him about the new charges being leveled against him. He explained to Jerry that his new bail would likely be over a million dollars. He further explained that there would be another arraignment hearing in the coming days in which the modified charges were brought before the judge. Finally, he urged Jerry, who had already agreed some time ago to undergo a polygraph test, to change his mind.
Jerry was devastated – and scared to death. Still, he was reluctant to cancel the polygraph appointment he’d made with the detective. Like Josh, Jerry was driven by a moral imperative to establish his innocence. Although he definitely wanted to get out of jail, he also wanted the world to know that he was, in fact, innocent. Deep down inside he was convinced that the truth would eventually prevail.
The problem Jerry now faced was that the interview and polygraph was scheduled for later that afternoon. The news he’d just received from his attorney could not have come at a worse time. Jerry had already been nervous about undergoing a polygraph, but now he was literally shaking with anxiety. Somehow he’d gotten it into his head that the polygraph machine was his only chance of freedom, and now that he was facing first degree murder the stakes had been raised considerably.
Stuart Co. Jail, Tank 4North
Holding Room #1
18
September, 5:20 PM
WHEN JERRY was escorted into the holding room where the polygraph was scheduled to take place, he expected to see Robert Matson, the lead detective on his case. Instead, there was another man in the room whom Jerry had never seen before. He was a big man, with piercing gray eyes, and a scraggly red beard. He introduced himself as “Richard,” and then instructed Jerry to have a seat in a pre-positioned chair which faced in the direction of a blank wall.
Once he was seated, Richard launched off into a diatribe about his qualifications to administer the test. He explained that he had, at one time, worked for the
DOD (Department of Defense) for many years. His job was to screen potential employees who sought work with the federal government, and who required a polygraph in order to gain a security clearance. Richard also explained that he’d been contracted by the CIA, on numerous occasions, to administer polygraph tests to government employees who were suspected of spying for the Soviets. He’d even done a test on a Hungarian spy. He concluded by saying that he’d worked for the Stuart County Sheriff’s Department for ten years.
Jerry was still soaking it all in, when Richard began to explain the workings of his p
olygraph machine. It was an LX2000 model which was widely used by police departments and government agencies throughout America. Supposedly, when operated by a skilled technician – like Richard – it was a highly accurate tool in ascertaining whether or not a person was lying.
By now, Jerry was wondering why Richard was going to such great lengths to explain his resume, as well as the specific model of the polygraph machine. He suspected that Richard was trying to intimidate him, and convince him of the futility of lying. Whatever his motives, Jerry didn’t really care – he planned to tell the truth, regardless, because he hoped the truth would set him free.
After about ten minutes of preliminary stuff, Richard finally got around to hooking the machine up to Jerry. First, he placed a blood pressure cuff around Jerry’s right arm, and a sweat detector on the middle finger of his left hand. As he was doing this, however, he paused to ask Jerry if he was on any prescription medications, and if he’d taken any pills before the test. He also wanted to know if Jerry had prepared for the test in any way. In other words, had he asked around and sought answers from other inmates about how to defeat the polygraph machine. When Jerry replied that he wasn’t on any medications, and he hadn’t prepared for the test, Richard continued to hook a coil of some sort around Jerry’s abdomen. Jerry guessed that its purpose was to measure his respiration rate.
When the test got under way a few minutes later, Jerry was extremely nervous. He feared that the machine was fallible, and wouldn’t accurately determine the honesty of his answers. With each question, Jerry deliberately waited a few seconds to answer. He worried that if he answered too quickly, it would be perceived as a pre-rehearsed lie. On the other hand, if he waited too long before answering, it might appear as if he had something to hide. This little routine of trying to determine the most appropriate moment to answer “yes” or “no” to a given question continued for a several minutes. Eventually, Jerry settled down a bit and was answering the questions naturally, without any hesitation or delay.
And then it happened. Out of the blue, Richard asked Jerry about his drug usage in high school. Without thinking, Jerry’s conscience shut down and his mouth blurted out a lie – and then, with the next question, another lie. Having done so, it suddenly occurred to Jerry what he’d just done, and how it might look to Richard. His blood pressure skyrocketed, and he could feel a flush in his cheeks. He wondered, perhaps correctly, if everything he said from this point forward would become suspect. His breathing intensified, and his hands grew clammy. Suddenly, as he became increasingly terrified, a question popped into his head: “
Have I just thrown away my last chance of being exonerated?”
Stuart Co. Jail, Tank 3D
18 September, 6:13 PM
ON THE way to the bathroom, Josh looked back over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching him. He knew he had to be extremely cautious if he wanted to avoid getting run through with a shank – or worse. Though this had always been the case ever since he’d arrived in the jail a month earlier, it was an even greater necessity now. To his chagrin, his identity had been positively established to the entire country as one of the guys involved in the stabbing at Lucky’s, and hiding behind his anonymity was no longer an option.
As a precaution, Josh chose to use the stall which was closest to the bathroom exit. Not only did it afford a greater ability to hear if anyone was approaching, it also made it a lot easier for him to make a quick exit if necessary. Josh also hoped that the proximity to the rest of the tank – and potential witnesses – would serve as a deterrent to anyone who wanted to do him harm. Thankfully, nothing bad happened while he was in the bathroom.
AS HE returned to his bunk, however, Josh noticed Marcus and Oscar standing at the top of the nearby staircase. Without wasting any time, Josh lay down on an empty bed and acted as if he were sleeping. If confronted by the rightful owner of the bed, he could always apologize and say he thought it was his bed. As he strained to hear what they were saying, a shiver ran up Josh’s spine; they were talking about him...
“Listen up, homey, I’ve been told there’s a problem we
gotta deal wit,” Marcus could be heard saying to Oscar. “It’s that little prick that was on the TeeVee. Do ya know who I’m talk’n about?”
“Yeah, yeah – I’ve had my eye on him for a while,” Oscar replied. “Not too long ago, I think he was
hang’n around listen’n to a few of us talk’n about Joey Jones.”
Dang it
, Josh thought,
I wondered if they were on to me.
“
Whad you do about it, bro? Why’d you not tell me about it?” Marcus demanded.
“Marcus, man, none of us thought much about it at the time. How’s we supposed to know the dude’s in jail because the pigs thought he’s the one who stabbed Joey?” Oscar was bothered that Marcus would question his sensibilities, but he tried not allow his feelings to be reflected in his tone of voice.
Josh could hardly contain himself! What he was hearing was absolutely incredible. His mind was racing a mile a minute.
It’s all beginning to make sense. Gawd, I wish I had a tape recorder right now. Somehow, I’ve got to get this info to the police – and PRAY that they believe me!
Josh’s pulse picked up and his respiration rate increased. Fearing he might be discovered because of an inadvertent sound, he implored himself to calm down.
Breathe Josh, breathe. Just take it easy – take it easy. Gather as much information as you can.
“Well, here’s the deal, my man. This is a serious problem, and we’ve
gotta do sump’n fast. If the police realize they got the wrong man, they’s gonna come a look’n for one of us. Sides, I don’t want the big honcho to hear about this. You catch’n my drift, homey?”
“I hear you, bro – I hear you. What do you want me to do, Marco? Do you want me to rough him up a bit? Put the fear of God into him?” Oscar asked.