The music was playing but it was muffled by my thoughts. I hoped a fun pop song might ease my anxiety but it had no effect. My hands were still shaking. My face was already sweaty. I was nervous. I had never spoken to a child rapist and murderer before, especially one whose terror lasted years. Eight victims all under the age of ten. I clutched my hard cover notebook and pulled my briefcase from the floor board. A stare in the mirror mixed with a big breathe focused my attention on my training. My education will pay off. My work was too important for me to be scared.
I exited my car and walked to the front of the jail. The cool breeze blew my black hair out from it’s combed resting place. My gray suit kept the breeze from my body and my new leather loafers kept the puddles from my socks. My attire was a physical expression of my education and authority.
The thick doors squealed open as I stepped inside the public entryway. The lobby area had several guards that fixed their eyes on me when I entered. Some even chuckled at my groomed business attire. I guess guys dressed like me usually don’t show up this early. I approached the control center window that housed a uniformed older gentleman. The visitor access plate was stained yellow and the thick glass separating him and I was foggy with fingerprints.
“What’s your business here, sir?” He asked in a voice revealing his pack a day habit.
“Psychological evaluation for Kenneth Winston,” I answered through my dark beard.
“No evals are scheduled for Winston today.”
I pushed my glasses up wondering how the mistake happened. My secretary can be vacuous in conversation but rarely forgets to schedule appointments.
“Margaret must have forgot to call. Sir, I’ve driven four hours for this meeting.”
“Guess you should have called before you left. We don’t change the rules just to accommodate someone in a suit.”
“I will gladly fill out a form, a registry, anything. I need to do this eval today.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said with a hint of sympathy.
“You know who Kenneth Winston is?” I asked in a whisper.
The guard reluctantly nodded.
“His trial is approaching. All the attorneys, victim’s families, media, and even Judge Stephens would be furious if this evaluation isn’t completed today. My schedule is booked for the next month, but I’m sure Kenneth’s schedule is open right now,” I say, ending with a small laugh.
The guard looked me up and down.
“You know what he did. My work is crucial in making sure he can’t do it again. Without this eval he could be a free man soon.”
“Visitor for Winston, psych eval,” he calls out on his walkie talkie. With a sigh the guard nods and hands me a form to fill out.
Name: Dr. John Williams
Date: January 21
Reason for Visit: Psychological Evaluation for Kenneth Winston
“Fifteen minutes,” the guard says before hitting a switch allowing me to enter another chamber. A tall muscular guard instantly met me and instructed me to put everything into a container. I place my keys, notebook, phone, and briefcase inside the box which was then slid through a metal detector. The guard uses a wand to scan me.
“Watch it. This is only our first date,” I joked when he scanned my crotch. He cut his eyes without a smile.
“I’m going to need to check that briefcase,” he responded.
“Normally guards laugh at that joke,” I said easing the tension.
He pulled open the briefcase and dug through all of my notes, folders, documents, and scratch paper. He even checked the rows of empty pockets lining my briefcase.
“Retrieve your items from the container and follow the hall” he commanded. I obeyed.
As the hall narrowed I began to see prisoners in a large open room. One guard met me and asked what I needed for the evaluation.
“I need a room as far from people as I can get. In my experience inmates screaming profanity down the corridor makes my job much more difficult.”
The guard led me to a room on the farthest end of the hallway. The room contained two chairs on opposite sides of a table.
“Good luck, doctor. I hope whatever your evaluation says keeps Winston here,” the guard said, “or gives him the needle.”
“Will he be cuffed?” I asked nervously.
The guard chuckled. “Maximum security, doctor. Maximum.”
The guard left and I sat in silence for a while to collect my thoughts. The gray paint covering the cinder block walls had scrapes and marks all over them. The history of the room appeared violent. The buzzing of the overhead fluorescent lights pierced my ears. I remembered my training and focused on my evaluation.
After opening my briefcase I removed a few images and documents so I could begin when my patient was brought in. I slid my notebook next to me in case anything said in our conversation required its use. I tossed my black hair from my eyes and shifted my glasses. I was taking a relaxing deep breathe when the door swung open.
The chain between his legs rattled with every step. The guards, one on both sides, ushered their prisoner to the chair opposite me. He didn’t sit so much as plop down in the seat. While the guards looped his handcuffs around a bolted latch on the table, Kenneth Winston stared at me. His bright green eyes silently picking me apart. I don’t think he blinked during that time.
I hid my hard swallow as best I could but I’m sure my nervousness was obvious. The guards pulled the attached chains to ensure their prisoner couldn’t move his hands more than a few inches. As the two left I met them outside the room, leaving the door cracked.
“Excuse me, what was my time limit?” I asked.
“Since your meeting was unscheduled Roger said fifteen minutes.”
“Gentlemen, my evaluation will determine if Mr. Winston can stand trial. I alone determine if he remains in jail, gets the death penalty, or walks free at some point. Can we extend it to thirty minutes?”
Both guards exchange glances and nod.
“Also, I do not need any interruptions. That includes a guard outside the door. You may wait at the end of the corridor but I need Mr. Winston’s complete trust. In my experience a prisoner will not talk if they even sense a guard nearby.”
They nod again.
One whispers in my ear, “All us guards, hell, even most of the prisoners, are rooting for the death penalty.” Then walk down the hall and out of sight.
My gait was anxious when I reentered the room. I closed the door behind me, sat down, and looked into the face of a monster.
“You ain’t my attorney. Do I know you?” he asked.
“I’m your court appointed psychiatrist here to do an evaluation. We have met once, yes.”
“I thought you looked familiar. I don’t remember our introduction but you’re face is familiar.”
I get nervous as he scans my face. What could he be thinking? I’m assuming the same thing a lion thinks when staring at a zebra.
“We haven’t much time. I will conduct a simple interview. Ask a few questions and get to know you. First, lets discuss your actions over the last few years. Let’s begin,” I say pulling out a folder full of paper.
As I scanned the document a cold shiver crept down my spine. The sordid list I held was a banner this monster waved proudly. I’ve read over that document dozens of times, but being in the same room with its author left me sick. I fought the vomit down. Mr. Winston grinned at my discomfort.
“Kenneth Winston. Age forty-two. Born in Florida, but raised about everywhere else. No prior convictions, explaining how you evaded the authorities for so long. Eight victims. Ranging in ages from four to ten. All female. You raped them, beat them, then strangled them.”
“Allegedly,” he interrupted with a grin.
The comment made my blood boil but I kept my composure.
“Mr. Winston, there are no cameras here, no audio recording. I even left the door cracked earlier so you knew the guards can’t hear our conversation.”
He shifted in his chair as he became interested.
“What I’m saying is nothing you say can be held against you in court. I’m strictly here to learn about your past, your behavior, and possible reasons for your alleged crimes.”
“You’re asking me to be honest.”
“Yes, Mr. Winston. Honest. Nothing that is said in this room will ever leave it.”
It wasn’t a full smile, but a majority of one that lifted his cheeks into his eyes. In solitary confinement he didn’t have someone to share his memories with, except maybe a mouse or two. He twisted in his seat with anticipation. The look in his green eyes was clear. This monster wanted to brag.
“Let’s say I did these things, now what?” He asked.
“Just talk. I’ll start with this,” I said pulling a photograph out of my briefcase and setting in down in from of him.
“Angela Johnson,” he smirked, “I remember her.”
“Explain what happened,” I said.
“I was working in Atlanta at the time. Everyday to work I passed by a playground. She was an angel. So one day I made her my little Georgia peach.”
He giggled at his sick joke.
I pulled out another photograph and placed it directly in front of him.
“Ah, Lindsey, uh . . . uh”
“Janney,” I interrupted reminding him of the girl’s last name.
“Yeah. She was a fighter. Dallas is a big city. She was lost for weeks. They thought she ran away.”
He lowered his head and cut his eyes at me. “She didn’t.”
“What about her,” I asked after pulling out an image of a seven year old girl with blonde hair.
“Olivia Lawson, one of my favorites.”
Not realizing it until then, I saw my hand had balled into a fist. Even with my training he had gotten under my skin. I pulled my notebook closer as he continued.
“A little over a year ago I had just moved to New Orleans. I saw groups of kids waiting for the bus. No adults. Well, none that were paying attention anyway. I remember her yellow dress . . . her yellow hair.”
He stopped when I wiped a tear from my eye. He laughed.
“You sure ain’t much of a man doc. I ain’t even got to the juicy stuff yet. First, before I say anything too revealing I need to call my lawyer.”
“Your attorney has already been contacted. I called him personally and since nothing can be used against you he didn’t need to be-”
“He?” Winston asked confused. “My new attorney is a woman.”
Our eyes meet. Instead of pistols we draw stares in our duel against one another. His eyes narrow while the gears in his head turn. I know he will piece it together soon so I open my notebook.
I removed a roll of duct tape from the hollowed out pages and run behind him. He only got out a brief cry before the four layers of tape bound his lips. The sound wasn’t loud enough to cause suspicion. He began jerking in his seat and shaking the chains loudly. I punched him twice to get him to stop.
Then I punched him three more times.
His green eyes stared up at me with confusion until I removed my wig, glasses and fake beard. I was telling him the truth when I said we had met before. It was months ago in court when I gave my testimony. He mumbled something though the tape that was unintelligible but I knew what he said.
My name.
Anthony Lawson. Retired Navy Seal. Father to a murdered daughter.
He began to cry when he saw the sharp plastic tools I snuck into my notebook. He rattled the chains against the table signaling for help but a few more punches made him stop. I knew not to punch him in the mouth because if his mouth fills with blood he could choke to death. I couldn’t have him chocking. Not yet. I still had twenty minutes left.
My training from the military had paid off. Covert operations and undercover assignments gave me the skills necessary to pull off this scheme. Stay calm and think on your feet. Tell your lies with confidence. Do not let emotions keep you from doing your job. When he was describing my daughter, Olivia, I almost lost it, but I remembered my training. I had to hear it from him before I took the next steps. In my opinion, he just confessed.
I was not going to let Kenneth Winston get off on a technicality or have my taxes pay for the monster’s food and shelter in prison. The average wait time for a death row inmate is fifteen years.
Using my extensive knowledge of the most painful places in the body for injuries I went to work. When he acted up I smacked him around. I removed my suit and exposed the full body plastic suit I had on underneath. It caught all the blood so my suit stayed clean. The plastic was not breathable so I had been sweating since I pulled into the parking lot. I’m not going to go into detail about everything I did, but I will say after setting his genitals on the table in front of him he nearly passed out.
After I finished my business I had five minutes left before security would check on me. I removed the plastic suit and stuffed it into my briefcase. After quickly putting on my suit, wig, glasses and beard I left the room and approached the guard at the end of the hall.
“I’m sorry I forgot something in my car. I don’t know where my head is today. I will be back shortly. Under no circumstances are you to interrupt Mr. Winston until I return. The evaluation is going great and your interruption might cause him to retreat. Understand?”
The guard nodded.
I walked past the door into the visitor lobby. I explained to several guards I left something important in my vehicle and I would return immediately.
I sped home as quickly as I could.
Special investigators arrived faster than I thought. After seeing what happened to Kenneth Winston and watching the security footage, I was their prime suspect. Within two hours a dozen police surrounded my home, but by that time a smoldering pile of ash was all that was left of the tools, briefcase, beard, glasses, and suits. Instead of finding a blood covered mad man the police found me and my wife sitting on the couch surrounded by two other couples.
Frank and Elizabeth Johnson, parents of Angela Johnson, and Bill and Susan Janney, parents of Lindsey Janney.
The cops interviewed everyone. No one budged. Everyone stuck with the story we had rehearsed. I had been at the house all day and never left. The man in the video footage can’t be me since I do not have black hair, a beard, or wear glasses. No evidence was found. The cops were pissed and some argued the prison guards could identify me, but I knew it wouldn’t hold up in court. I even signed everything at the prison using fake information and in the sloppiest hand writing possible.
The other couples were at our house for our monthly meeting. A time to grieve over the loss of our daughters. A time to help each other heal. A time to tell stories of the loved ones we lost.
A time to get together and come up with a plan to get rid of Kenneth Winston.