Disclaimer: Not mine... not at all. Not enough money to feed them!
Rated: PG for a few bad words here and there.
WARNING! (This part is probably going to be longer than the entire story!) Well: this story deals with the thorny issue of capital punishment and I know that it's quite an awkward topic to discuss in fiction, but it was something I really HAD to write! The story deals with racial issues as well... I won't be overly politically correct in this one. So if you're sensitive to the topic go back now! In my defense, I can only say that all the things I wrote here come from Amnesty International's statistics.
Dedication: This story is humbly dedicated to Shallan who has been a wonderful beta reader, to Max and Roberta and to the half-million people who on July 8th were in Rome with us in the name of tolerance.
Blixa
Blair was sitting on the floor of what looked like an old dust-reeking basement. Not much time had passed, a couple of hours at the most, since the moment Jesse Green walked in the police station waving a gun in the middle of Major Crime's department. All that the man wanted, this he'd tried to explain Blair as he pushed him on a previously stolen car, was to draw the attention on his brother, convicted in Starkville's maximum security prison.
Ron Abraham Green was on death row and, in less than a day, the electric chair would finish his life. A story like many others, the cops must have thought when they arrested him. The usual punk that, in a moment of madness, killed a poor innocent woman. A black punk, without money, nonetheless. The stupid lawyer appointed by the Court had dozed off for half of the trial and he'd never been sober enough to raise a solid objection. A single testimony had sealed his fate; a woman who recognized her neighbor's murderer eleven months after the crime.
Now, there were at least five different people who could have exculpated Ron. But no one had ever listened to them because the stupid lawyer hadn't taken the trouble to put them in the witness list. And then, probably they would have been considered unreliable. The kids were all black, the jury was totally white, the victim was white, and the witness was white. And Ron Abraham Green got a death sentence at the age of sixteen after a farce trial and in spite of all the international agreement on minors' protection.
Fifteen years later, his brother Jesse had taken Blair Sandburg hostage with the purpose to use him to bring the attention of the media on his brother's pitiful case.
"Do you want some water?" Jesse asked his prisoner, sitting in front of a small radio while he waited for the news.
"Yes, thank you..."
While Blair was drinking, the other man told him, ill at ease. "Listen, man... I know it isn't much but I didn't want things to this way." The anthropologist nodded. "I just want to save my brother's life."
"Yeah, but what I don't get is what you hope to gain with my kidnapping!"
"I'd like them to understand that they're making a big mistake! That Ron is innocent!"
"Then maybe you should have kidnapped the Governor. They won't stop the System for a mister no-one like me."
"I-I wasn't planning to hold any hostage. I just wanted to get in the police station, make myself heard, you know... draw the journalists' attention." Jesse stopped then, because the plan was starting to sound pretty stupid to his own ears.
"And get yourself killed," Blair commented in a soft voice "No offence, but you don't barge in a police station waving a gun the way you did."
"It wasn't loaded," The man weakly objected.
"You were the only one who knew that."
"Will they talk about us on the news?"
"I really think so. On one thing you were right... you performed a hell of a show!"
"You think... you think. Oh Holy God!" Jesse cried out, suddenly letting himself fall to the ground, trembling hands covering his eyes "What did I do? What do I do now?!"
Right there, Blair could have probably asked the man to be released and Jesse would have consented, instead the young man asked, "Where did you leave the car?"
"I put it in the garage. Why?" Jesse whimpered.
"Good, that's good. Listen to me! You. Have. To remain. Calm! You have to think. Tell me again, what do you hope to get from this story?"
"I want my brother to have a real trial, with an impartial jury."
"Okay... now let's find out a way to realize that!"
The journalists had crowded outside the precinct, waiting to collect information on the ongoing investigation. A couple of them had even started to gather information about Ron Greene's close execution, but still considering it only a secondary detail of the entire matter. What they knew (and cared) so far was that Jesse Green had entered the police station with a weapon, had kidnapped an observer working for the Major Crime unit and disappeared without a trace.
Seven floors higher in a bullpen buzzing with activity, two men sat in front of a computer waiting to get useful information from the police's database. Jim sighed, rubbing his temple to drive back the first wave of a migraine. The growing din in the room was starting to become unbearable to his hyperactive senses.
"Jim?" Simon called him "Jim?!" The captain said again, this time grabbing his best detective by the arm.
"Uh?"
"Let's get in my office, maybe it'll be quieter."
The other man nodded, wincing at the sharp thud of a mug lowered on a nearby desk. When Jim had closed the door behind them, the big captain asked, his voice concerned, "What do you think is going to happen?"
Jesse Greene had looked like a simpleton, but a simpleton with a gun... if possible even more dangerous. He'd started to ramble incoherent threats about a brother sentenced to death and detained in a maximum security penitentiary, then he'd drawn a gun and waved it around. Before the cops had the time to react and take him down, the man had grabbed the first person coming through the door, using it like a shield. Obviously that person had to be Blair Sandburg.
"Do you want the truth? I really don't know. But we have to find him before his brother is executed. Else Sandburg could pay the price."
"Yeah." Simon nodded with a grimace. "The point is, what do we do now?"
"Hey man, look! We're on TV!"
Blair was dozing, with his head resting on the wall, when a rather excited shout jerked him awake.
"This is Violet Simms of RKO. Still no news about the fate of Blair Sandburg, the young observer in the hands of the man who busted in the police station this afternoon. Captain Simon Banks of the Major Crime unit confirmed that his men are doing everything they can to locate the criminal's den and free the hostage."
"Thanks Violet," a man in a gray double-breasted jacket croaked from the studio. "Let's now talk about the latest Jags..."
Jesse turned the radio off with a frustrated punch. "Dammit!" he shouted, "They didn't say anything! I'm just a common criminal for them! Why the Hell don't they get that I'm doing this for my brother?!"
"Maybe you should let them know." Blair's quiet voice stopped his outburst.
"What do you mean?" The man raised his head again, clearly suspicious, but it wasn't hard to detect a sparkle of hope in his eyes.
"I mean that maybe you should--"
"Surrender! Oh yeah, I know your game! You hope that I surrender and set you free, don't you?!" Jesse jumped to his feet and started to pace. "Isn't this what you hope?! Well, know that if my little brother's life isn't spared, tomorrow afternoon he won't be the only one to die, because you'll follow him!"
"Actually I was thinking about something else," The young man muttered, managing to keep his voice steady enough in spite of the threat. When he was sure he held all the attention again, Blair continued. "I think that something good is born from this situation. The media seems to be interested. Journalists love story with suspense, but do you know what they love even more? Story with suspense and heart-wrenching details."
"So?" Jesse asked because he still didn't get where that trail of thoughts was leading.
"So... what would happen if you'd call one of the networks that are following your case and decide to give them... let's say, an exclusive interview?"
"What?!" The other man cried out, suddenly nervous "You'd want me to give an interview to one of those vultures?! You forget that I can't leave this house. Cops would find me immediately."
"There's always the phone--"
"There's no phone in this place."
"You can use my cell phone. I think I put it in my jacket. Call the information service and ask for RKO's number. Then just try to be convincing."
"You trying to dupe me? You think I don't know that it's possible to trace a cell phone?" Jesse seemed on the verge of a panic attack.
"You aren't calling the police here! Do you really think that a reporter with no scruples would miss an occasion like this to call the cops?!" Blair snorted.
"Do you think it could work?"
"I think yes. After all, what do you have to lose?"
Someone knocked at the door. "Come in," Simon said as he lowered his now empty cup of coffee on the desk. Rafe stepped inside.
"What's happening?" the captain questioned.
Jim, too, was staring at the man, trying to get from his co-worker's demeanor a clue of what he had to expect. To understand if he had to worry or sigh with relief, or worse going to the morgue to identify his Guide's body.
Rafe beckoned them to follow him. "I think you really ought to see this."
A few detectives were silently staring at the TV in a corner of the bullpen, listening to a special edition of the RKO's news.
"As we promised you before the commercial, you are now going to listen to a real scoop." The anchor-man with a plastic smile literally sneered his word, as he pretended to arrange a folder on his desk. "A few minutes ago Jesse Greene called us, offering an interview."
"What?!" Jim bellowed. "What the Hell is he doing? What does he hope to get?!"
"I guess he wants attention to create a delay of his brother's execution," Brown commented behind him, sitting on a vacant chair.
Suddenly, a very confused voice was trying to explain his request, getting more and more faltering to the pressing questions the skillful journalist was asking. It certainly wasn't enough for the audience to get hooked to Ron Greene's story.
"Man, what a disaster," Blair commented when Jesse had cut the call, turning toward him.
"You think? I'm not used to talking to an audience," He grimaced.
"Anyway... maybe we'll hear more about your brother in the next edition of the news."
"Do you think it is going to work?"
"I hope so"
"For him or for you?"
"For both of us, I suppose. Listen, since we are going to spend several hours together, why don't you tell me Ron's story? I prefer to hear it from you than from some dumb journalist."
"How could it happen that a kidnapper phoned RKO to give them an exclusive interview?!" Jim shouted. "And why did not one of those idiots call us?!" Nobody said a thing; sometimes it was safer to remain as far as possible from hurricane Ellison. "I want to talk to that--"
"Jim? Jim calm down!" Simon finally stopped his best detective's tirade. "If you think that I'll let you go to the RKO station and threaten their journalists, then you're crazy! When you have calmed down enough, we will talk more about that."
"But don't you get it?" The sentinel didn't give up easily "They have the tape with the interview. I might find something useful!"
"And I warn you again! You won't leave this room before you have calmed down!"
"Is this an order, sir?"
Simon nodded curtly.
"My brother has never been a saint. He did make some mistakes, petty larcenies here and there, but he'd never hurt anyone. Then, one night, the cops arrive and break down the door. They say that Ron has broken in an apartment , but the owner caught him in the act and my brother killed her. We didn't have any money, so we got the legal-aid. For all that lawyer did, my brother could have as well defended himself. The jury sentenced him to death for a single testimony! One of the victim's neighbors; she said she'd seen my brother leaving the apartment. At night, in the dark and eleven months after!"
"Was that all? I mean, where was the evidence?!" Blair cried out.
"Evidence? What evidence are you talking about? This was all they had. Along with the fact that my brother was black, he'd quite a bad record and he owned a gun... a gun that he'd never used."
"This is crazy..."
"No, that's how things go in this country. Ninety-nine percent of convicted men on death row are Black, Hispanic or too poor to afford a decent lawyer. I inquired about that," he added, somewhat shyly.
"Listen," The young man pondered over what he was going to say next. "What do you say if we prepare a speech you can read. You could give a second interview. I'm sure that journalists are already digging in your past, but that is not going to be enough. You'll have to add a lot more details. Believe me, just what you told me will move many people to compassion. And maybe someone will start to have doubts."
"You know, we have a new lawyer now, he's a good guy. He filed an appeal to the Supreme Court. And he submitted a petition for mercy to the Governor. Do you think it will do any good?" He sounded like a hopeful child and Blair hated to crush his hopes.
"It's a start, but I wouldn't rely only on that. It's generally useless..."
"So you think that even knowing what I said and what I'm going to say, they'll carry on with the execution? That they'd put an innocent man to death?"
This time, Blair didn't answer.
Jim had effectively calmed down, at least enough to enter the RKO's office without killing anyone. Simon had immediately requested the complete tape and, after the initial resistance, the director guided them in the recording room.
Jim tried to listen behind Jesse Greene's almost hysterical voice and finally managed to hear the steady heartbeat of his Guide somewhere in the background. "He's still alive," he sighed with relief, scratching his forehead.
"Thank God for that. Now we have to find him before Ron Greene is executed."
"How much time do we have?"
"A bit less than 13 hours..."
Suddenly, the door was thrown open and Harold Newman, RKO's main journalist, appeared on the threshold. "Gentlemen! Jesse Greene just called offering another interview!"
Simon jumped to his feet, grabbing his cell phone.
"Taggart," a familiar voice greeted him on the other end of the line.
"Joel, it's Simon. I want you to trace every call to RKO's numbers. Our man is going to call in a few minutes."
"Consider it done, captain. Any news about Blair?"
"No, not yet... but we might have a break soon."
"Good luck, then."
"Needless to say, I want the entire conversation on tape," The big captain said, turning to face the sugary journalist who was still waiting near the door, probably planning his next article: "Cascade cops on the kidnaper's tracks thanks to RKO!"
"Of course," He said before slipping out.
"Come, let's move to the other room," Simon muttered, slightly tapping on Jim's shoulder when he noticed that the detective was still staring at the recorder.
A few minutes later, in a packed room, a phone rang. "Hello," Harold Newman answered, comfortably sitting down.
They'd discussed the opportunity to have Jim on the phone pretending to be a journalist, but Newman had violently objected, asserting that the man would soon know the trick. And since there was a person's life at stake, the cops had eventually desisted.
"I don't need to talk to him directly," Jim had reminded his captain in a low voice.
"That's me... Jesse Greene, I mean."
"I'm glad you called us again..."
That he didn't call another station... both Jim and Jesse thought at the same time.
"Yeah, well..." The man on the other side of the phone stumbled over his words.
"Take all the time you need."
"Thanks. I have some lines I want to read, then, if you like, you can ask me questions."
"Good," Newman conceded. "Are you ready to start?"
"Yes, so... my brother..." For almost five minutes, Jesse Greene read with trembling voice his desperate plea to stop the execution of an innocent man. He didn't leave out any of the details he'd listed to Blair and that the young man had written down for him. Then, he suddenly stopped talking.
"Mister Greene? Are you still there?" the journalist asked him when the moment of silence had been too long.
"Yes..."
"You told me that I could ask you some questions for my article." Newman used his best voice, the same that got him the award for best reporter of the year. "The hostage... Blair Sandburg. Is he still alive?"
"Of course!" Jesse sounded almost offended that someone had dared to ask him such an obvious thing.
"Could I talk to him?"
Silence. The man turned to stare at Blair, who was looking back at him with a questioning glance, pressing him to continue with a quick gesture of the hand.
"Jesse?"
"Mister Sandburg is still alive and he'll be that way as long as my brother is alive. If Ron dies on the electric chair, then Mister Sandburg will follow him!" And he cut the conversation.
"What happened?" Simon asked himself, feeling like he'd just been kicked back to reality by a very angry mule. The interview was going so smoothly. It was really simple to get emotionally involved by Jesse Greene's desperate words relaying a heart-wrenching tale of a destroyed life. That was until the threat literally exploded in the small room through the receiver.
Harold Newman was scratching his chin, for the first time seriously taken aback by the sudden turn of the situation. Two other reporters where muttering something at the same time shaking their heads and Jim was staring at the entire scene clenching and unclenching his jaw.
"Now we can go and get him!" the detective said when he finally got the result of the phone's trace, basically running out of the door with Simon at his heel.
"Dammit Ellison! Give me the time to inform the others at the precinct!" The big man panted as he ran down the stairs.
"That went well. What do you think?" Jesse Greene asked confirmation to his prisoner.
"We have to leave this place. Right now."
"What?! Why?!"
"The police probably know where we are."
"But you told me--"
"For the first time it could work, until when my friends at the station saw the report. My God! Did you really think that they wouldn't run to the RKO? I'm pretty sure that the second call had been traced. We have to move!"
"Fuck! Let's go then!" Jesse roughly grabbed Blair by an arm, helping him to get to his feet, then he pushed him toward stairs leading to the ground floor.
"The house belongs to a Robert Smith, but it seems that the man left the States many years ago," Brown's voice gushed through the radio, altered by the statics. "And I think that Mr. Smith is one of Jesse Greene's friends."
"Thanks," Jim answered as he brought his attention back to the desert street bathed in the first lights of dawn.
"Here we are!" Simon said as he parked in front of a small house that looked like it had seen better days. "Now we just have to wait for back up. They'll be here in a few minutes."
"It's useless. Jim shook his head. "They're already gone."
"What?!"
"The house is empty. I can't hear any heartbeats. Greene must have known that we were tracing Sandburg's cell phone."
"Perfect..." The captain gave a frustrated kick to one of his car's tires "Damn! Let's get in and take a look, maybe he was in such a hurry that he left some clues."
The two men tried the main door, not surprised to find it unlocked, and started to check the bare rooms on the ground floor. Suddenly, Jim touched Simon's arm and pointed him the stairs leading to the basement. The big man nodded, carefully following the detective down.
The basement was only a big, almost empty, room reeking of dust and mold. The only furniture consisted of a small table with a glass resting on it and a chair discarded in a corner.
"They were here. I can smell Blair's scent and this is his jacket." The cop picked the garment up and tucked it under his arm, with the firm intention to give it back to its legitimate owner.
"Where are we going?" Blair asked as, from the back seat of the small stolen car, gazing outside the window.
"I don't know... to my mother's, I think." Jesse averted his eyes from the road to check for the umpteenth time in the rearview mirror.
"Relax, nobody is following you."
"Yes... yes..." But he didn't look overly convinced.
Turning to the left, the man suddenly questioned, "Why did you do that?"
"Did what?" Blair asked, because he honestly didn't understand.
"Why did you help me? I mean... you could have said anything about the phone and wait for the cops."
"Yeah, I suppose I could have," the young man admitted with a shrug. "But I wanted to help you. Listen, I hope your brother's case will be re-opened."
"Do you think I have a possibility? Tell me honestly..."
"I don't know. To tell you the truth, I really don't know. If the TV starts to talk about Ron, maybe people will start to doubt the sentence. Otherwise, your brother will die as an innocent man."
"I don't get it." Jesse waved a hand in frustration "If he's innocent, why should he die?"
"Because he wouldn't be the first one." Blair knew he was being cynical. "Justice is a dumb and incredibly slow machine. So even if everybody sees the inconsistencies in your brother's sentence, it is going to take time to start things. Time that today we don't have."
"So, however it goes Ron is fucked."
"Look, I hope the members of the Supreme Court will think about this. Maybe hearing Ron's story for the first time will have them thinking over their decision. If they really listen to the details, they could start questioning the previous trial."
"When will the verdict be?"
"A couple of hours before the execution, I suppose. We'll probably see it on TV"
Ms Greene's house was desert. The woman must have gone to the church to pray, commented the son as he gently pushed Blair along the small hallway decorated with many framed pictures.
"Is this your brother?" The young anthropologist asked pointing at a boy, defiantly smiling at the camera.
"Yeah, a couple of years before he went to jail. I took the picture myself, just outside. There was a small park then... it was nice during the summer because you could sit on a bench and talk with friends."
"I can imagine. Turn the TV on, then call your lawyer. I think he has to know what's happening."
The man took him to the small living room and pointed him the couch. "Sit there. Not that I don't trust you, but..."
"But you never know." The young man smiled and did as he was told.
The TV started to show the images of a soap opera where a couple was hotly discussing their children's education and Jesse impatiently switched channels. Finally the news on the ABC channel started and a journalist started to talk about what had been dubbed as the Greene's matter. And, surprise surprise, because deep down Blair didn't even believed in it, the strong point seemed to be Ron's story. The journalist was just in front of Starkville's prison.
"Yes, good morning Paul. I'm near the entrance of the suddenly very famous penitentiary of Starkville where, in less than 11 hours, Ronald Abraham Greene's death sentence will be carried out. As you can see, two distinct groups of people are crowding here. On one side, those who support capital punishment are far outnumbered by the militants of several humanitarian organizations and the African American movement. The situation is really tense and it is clear that we're living a very important moment in the history of the death penalty in our country. As the time passes, more and more doubts weigh on the culpability of the man who, in 1985, at the age of sixteen years old, was convicted of killing Mary Elizabeth Saunders. We have an interview with the Governor..."
Even since George Gore's first words, the enthusiasm considerably dampened and the interview ended with a lapidary and mocking: "I'm proud to say that never in our State has an innocent man been executed."
Jesse switched channels, but everywhere the situation was the same... the same voices, the same doubts, the same interviews. And above all that, like a huge axe, the Governor's hoarse voice, "Never has an innocent man been executed."
Blair grimaced and punched one of the unaware pillows lying on the couch. Suddenly, his cell phone rang.
"Hello," Jesse said, without even checking the name on the display.
"Uh, hi! May I talk to Blair, please?" The male voice on the other side of the line asked.
"With Blair..." Jesse repeated, pensive.
The anthropologist's head snapped up, a frown marring his face, then he hissed, "Hang up! They're going to trace you!"
Jesse let the phone fall, looking at the object lying on the living room's carpet as if it were a new alien species. Blair didn't think, he simply ran toward the phone and stomped on it, effectively smashing it into pieces.
"Dammit!" He cried out when his mind realized what he'd just done "It was new!"
"I'm sorry." Jesse's eyes were wide, but the man was trying his best not to snicker.
"Why should you be? You didn't break it! I did!" Blair commented with a chuckle "Man, Jim is going to have a fit!"
"Who's this Jim?"
"My partner. One of the guys you probably saw at the precinct."
"The tall one who called you Chief?"
"That's him." Blair nodded, once again sitting down. "It was a birthday present. Since I tend to forget things very easily, especially meetings at the station and things like that, Jim thought that with a phone I could inform him every time I was running late."
"You have to be very close."
"He's more than a brother to me."
"Then if he were in Ron's situation, you'd act like me."
"Most definitely."
Four hours later, everything was quiet. Less than seven hours separated Ron from the execution on the electric chair. It was lunch time and it was an incredibly out of place hot day.
Barbara Amory Greene silently entered her apartment, in time to avoid the first journalists ready to camp in front of her house hoping to snatch a declaration.
"Mom," Jesse greeted her, quickly turning the TV off.
"Son." The old woman was trembling and let herself fall on one of the chairs. She was almost going to say something else, but she saw Blair coming out of the kitchen, carrying two dishes in his hands.
"He's Blair, Mom. A friend of mine."
The young man put the dishes on the table and absently cleaned his hand on the shirt before holding it out to Jesse's mother, whispering, "I'm really glad to meet you Ma'am. I'm only sorry that it has to happen in such a sad moment."
"Thank you," Barbara managed to murmur, before the tears started to trail down her cheeks again.
"Mom... mommy?" Jesse tried to draw her attention. "Have you talked to Cesar?"
"That dear boy called me very early this morning. He told me that there wasn't any news," the woman told him with her trembling voice "He says to have faith in the Supreme Court or in the Governor. So I told him that I had faith in someone higher and I went to the church."
"I guess it's the only thing left to do now. Governor Gore basically said that he won't grant the pardon," Jesse murmured sadly.
"Where did you hear that? Why did the Governor say such a thing? He surely wasn't talking about Ron."
"Unfortunately yes, Ma'am. He just released an interview on TV."
The woman remained silent for a long time.
"Mom?" Jesse asked in the end when he couldn't bear the quiet anymore.
"Ma'am? Can I bring you a glass of water?"
Barbara nodded to the anthropologist. Then without really thinking, she turned the TV on.
"There isn't any news on the kidnapping of the young police observer, Blair Sandburg," the journalist was saying, and behind her shoulders a picture of the anthropologist appeared. "It would seem that Jesse Greene has temporarily managed to disappear without leaving any trace. The police are concerned for the hostage's well-being. It seems that Greene had threatened to kill Mr. Sandburg if his brother Ron dies today on the electric chair. But let's go back to our special correspondent at Starkville's maximum security prison to hear the latest news..."
A stunned silence fell in the sunny living room.
"Mom?" Jesse eventually asked. "Mom, listen to me."
"How could you do that?" Her voice cracked. "How?"
"Ma'am?" Blair said and patiently waited for the woman to look at him before continuing. "Listen to me, please. I'm not a real hostage. It was the only way your son had to draw the attention of the media."
"But, but..." It was evident that the poor woman was more than puzzled.
"If I were an hostage, do you really think that I could walk around like this? It's just a huge misunderstanding."
"Couldn't you call the cops and tell them that it isn't a real kidnapping?" Barbara pleaded, her voice almost childish.
"No. Because if Blair did that, the journalists would stop talking about Ron. Actually, people may even think that we planned everything from the beginning. You want to save Ron, don't you mom?"
"Sure, but--"
"Then trust me. And eat something--"
His words were stopped by a muttered curse coming from outside. "And move that van, dammit! There's enough room for the cameras!"
"Shit!" Jesse and Blair muttered at same time. "What are those journalists doing here?"
"How could you pass the opportunity to interview the poor distressed mother of today's dying superstar? Welcome to grief TV!" Blair declared sarcastically.
"Great! What do we do now?"
"Your lawyer, can you trust him?"
"Who? Cesar? Sure, he's my sister's brother-in law. I trust him completely."
"Good, then call him and tell him to come here as soon as possible to get your mother. It could be dangerous for her to remain here."
"Yeah, you're right."
Cesar was checking the trial's papers, a bit surprised by Ron's sudden flare of popularity, when the phone in his office rang. "Cesar Seymour"
"Cesar, It's Jesse..."
"Jesse?!" The man squeaked, suspiciously looking around as if he expected the police to burst through his door at any time now.
"Listen to me, man. I don't have much time. You have to come at my mom's house, now. It's important!"
"What's happening Jesse? Is it true what TV says about you? That you hold a police observer as a hostage?"
"For the love of God, Cesar you have to come here immediately. There's a group of journalists in front of the house and we can't go out!"
"We?! What do you mean by WE, who's there with you?!"
"Come immediately, I'll explain everything when you get here!" And Jesse hung up. "Let's hope he listens to me."
"Violet Simms from Starkville's maximum security prison. Never in the last few years have we seen such a crowd mobilize for a man sentenced to death. More than a hundred people are demonstrating just beside me... there, you can see them right now. They are asking for a review of the trial of Ron Abraham Greene accused of a murder committed in 1985. The calls for mercy multiplies everywhere in the States. It would look like there could be a hope to re-open the case. The question now is: can it happen before Ron Green is executed? But let's now try to reconstruct the stages of the previous trial."
The small black-and-white TV showed images of people waving colorful signs and banners just outside a stern-looking prison and many government buildings scattered over the entire state.
"That's impressive. Do you think it is going to be enough?" Jesse whispered to Blair, trying not to upset his mother, who was staring at the small screen, her eyes wide in wonder. Almost all the TV stations now had sent a couple of their journalists outside the Starkville's prison, waiting for the verdict of the Supreme Court or a word from the Governor.
"I hope so."
"You don't look convinced."
"I think your brother is going to die as an acknowledged innocent."
"Oh, I feel much better now..."
The sudden burst of excited voices from outside the house made the two men realize that someone was coming. Jesse crept to the window and discreetly gave a look outside from behind a curtain. "It's Cesar. Mom, open the door, but don't let anybody else in. Blair, we go in the other room, so that even if some of those vultures dare to follow him, they won't see us."
The young man nodded and moved to a small bedroom.
The door opened and Barbara's slightly quivering voice greeted the lawyer, "I'm glad you're here."
"Barbara, what's happening?"
"Jesse and his friend will explain you everything." She pointed him the ajar door with a firm wave of the small hand.
"What's happening here?!" The lawyer hissed as soon as he'd set foot in the other room.
"Cesar, this is Blair Sandburg. Blair, this is Cesar Seymour, my brother's lawyer."
"But... but..."
"I'm his hostage. I know. Listen Cesar. May I call you Cesar?"
The man nodded, letting himself slip beside Jesse on the bed.
"Good. The matter is getting complicated and I honestly don't know how it's going to end. Jesse kidnapped me because he hoped to draw the attention on Ron's case. What he hadn't planned on was that journalists got to liking the story so much to besiege his mother's house. Now, to get out of here, we need you to take Barbara with you so that the vultures will follow."
The man absently nodded, his sharp stare shifting restlessly from Jesse to Blair. "But," he finally blurted out. "Which of you two planned this?"
"Let's say we're improvising," Jesse allowed. "Is there any news?"
"I think the verdict of the Supreme Court will come at about four o'clock, not sooner"
"What about the Governor?" Blair asked.
"I wouldn't bet on him," the lawyer snorted. "I'm going to be honest with you, Jesse. He's never granted a pardon in his entire life, why should he start today?"
"Because he's condemning an innocent man! Holy God, why does no one seem to care that Ron never killed no one?!"
"I'll tell you why. We're in the middle of the election campaign. Admitting that a convicted man might be innocent is a bit like admitting that you can doubt the entire system of capital punishment. And this is real bad, much more than the thought of losing some votes from the minorities."
"So if an innocent nigger dies..."
"That's the point. You say your brother is innocent. But, can you prove that? After more than fifteen years, who could possibly find out who the real murderer is? It's your word against the Governor's and against the word of an entire system that calls itself foolproof. It's not a matter of black or white anymore!"
"Ron is the sacrificial lamb, innocent but no one can prove it. They're going to feel less guilty for his execution," Blair commented lowering his eyes.
"Yeah, that's hideous isn't that? But unfortunately, this is the reality. All we can do is ride the protest, trying to make ourselves heard as much as possible. And pray. About the kidnapping, what are you going to do? If I got it right from TV, you threatened to kill him at the end of this situation. Couldn't you confess everything before things get out of control?"
"That's what I had in mind," the anthropologist said. "But maybe we'd better wait a bit longer. If I admit that I was in collusion with him since almost the beginning, lot of people will stop believing in the entire matter and it won't do Ron any good. What do you think?"
"That you are both going to need a good lawyer."
Before Barbara Greene was ready for the trip that would take her to the Starkville's prison for a last meeting with her son, more than another hour had passed. It was now half past two of an implacably hot afternoon.
Less than 210 minutes to the execution, Jesse thought somberly.
"Take it easy," Cesar told the woman while they were getting ready to leave. "Don't panic and answer the journalist's questions only if you feel up to. All right?"
"Okay. Jesse?"
"What's up?"
"Please, be careful."
The man hugged her tight and whispered in her ear. "Tell Ron that I love him and that I'm doing my best to help him." The woman nodded, biting her lips to keep from crying, her head resting on her son's shoulder.
"Come on, you have to go," he eventually told her, disentangling from the arms hugging him.
"Be careful... both of you," Cesar warned as he quietly closed the door behind him.
Jim was watching the RKO's news, clenching his jaw and thinking about the explosive situation. It was incredible, but Jesse Greene had managed to disappear in the thin air, taking Blair with him. Less and less time separated Ron Greene from his meeting with the electric chair and the Supreme Court's verdict was going to be announced in a few minutes by one of the sweaty RKO's reporter. The journalist was now trying to interview Jesse Green's mother in front of her house, the same house that a squad car had uselessly checked as soon as Simon had spread the news of the kidnapper's flight.
The detective's eyes fixed on a so far unnoticed detail. "Simon! Oh God, I found him!"
The captain, who was sipping a cup of coffee, jerked on his chair, spilling some dark drops on his new trousers. "What?" The man said as he jumped to his feet, approaching Jim and blankly staring at the screen. "What did you find? I can't see anything..."
"The window. Look closer." The detective pointed at one of the windows of the house in the background. There was the faint reflection of a man on the glass.
"Are you sure he is Jesse Greene?"
"Who else could he be?"
"Okay, let's go!"
The Supreme Court's verdict came as the two detectives were heading toward the Greene house, followed by four other police cars and an ambulance, toward Vineyard Street.
"For four votes to five," the reporter said with his impartial voice. "The Supreme Court of the United States rejected the demand for a delay of the execution advanced by Ron Abraham Green's attorney..."
"Dammit," Simon cursed.
"For four votes to five." An elegant journalist in a gray tailleur read a sterile press release. "The Supreme Court rejected the motion advanced by Ron Abraham Greene's defense to delay the execution. The last hope for the man is now in Governor George Gore's hand."
"It can't be real." Jesse let himself fall on the couch, head buried in his shaking hands. For a moment, he'd hoped he'd made it, that he'd beaten the System. Instead, Ron would be just another of its victims.
"One vote. How can ONE vote decide the life of a human being?!" he pleaded.
"I'm sorry." Blair rested a hand on the other man's shoulder, gently rubbing the tight muscles. "For what it may worth, I'm really sorry."
"It's over... there's no more hope. There's nothing more I can do to save Ron!" There were still two hours to six, but they could have been only a few minute. Nothing would change, the Governor made it plain that he would never sign the damn pardon. "My God, it's all over!"
"Cascade PD! Jesse Greene drop your weapon and come out keeping your hands above your head!"
"Oh shit! Jim." Blair's head turned to stare at the window.
"Is he your cop friend?" The young man nodded. "We can let him in then... he may as well join the party! I've got nothing more to lose!"
"All right. Okay, first thing put your gun on the table and sit on the couch. I wouldn't want some rookie to shoot you by mistake."
"Jim!" he shouted, fully aware that his sentinel would easily hear him. "You can come in! He is unarmed!"
The door was thrown open, slamming so violently against the wall that it knocked one of the hanging frame to the ground. "Blair?!"
"We're in the living room! Put your guns away, there's no need to use them!"
Jim, Simon and two other officers burst in the modest living room, leveling their weapons. They were welcomed by Jesse and Blair sitting side by side on the couch.
"Chief? How are you? Are you fine?"
"Everything is all right, Jim," Then the anthropologist said again. "Just put your guns away, please."
"Jesse Greene you're under arrest for Blair Sandburg's kidnap..."
"No! Wait Simon, it isn't right!" Blair intervened.
"Pardon?" The big captain blinked a couple of times, probably thinking he'd misunderstood something.
"I said that it isn't exactly right, because Jesse didn't kidnap me at all."
"Chief," Jim growled, suddenly aware where his friend was driving at.
"We planned it since the beginning. We just wanted to draw the attention on his brother's case!"
"What?! Don't give me this bullshit! We've all seen the way you reacted at the precinct!"
"It's your word against mine. And I say that Jesse hasn't kidnapped me!"
"And I say that you're lying, Sandburg!" Jim stepped in the discussion.
"Then I'd have to arrest both of you and Mr. Greene would have to face other charges. For example, he barged into a government building with an unregistered weapon, threatening innocent citizens--"
"It isn't loaded. You can check."
Simon sighed, "May I ask you just one thing Sandburg? Why do you defend him?"
"Because I would have done the same to save you or Jim! Because in less than an hour, a man will end his life on the electric chair even if he's innocent! That's why I'm doing it! I may be wrong, but I won't let things simply go along!!!"
"Let it be, Blair. Gentlemen, he's got nothing to do with this story. It was exclusively my idea, and I don't want someone else to pay the price."
"Okay, okay enough! Jim, what the Hell is happening here? Is this a bad case of Stockholm syndrome?"
The detective shrugged, seriously taken aback by his best friend's attitude. Blair insisted not to look at him in the eyes.
"Can I... Can I ask you just a favor?" Jesse asked shyly.
"Sure"
"Before going to the precinct, I-I'd like to remain here for a while, until... until my brother is dead."
"I think we can do that," Simon conceded.
"At 6:07 p.m. Ron Abraham Green died for..."
Jesse lowered his head and cried. Beside him, Blair rested a hand on the man's shoulder and sighed. Jim suddenly felt he wasn't needed, that Jesse and Blair wanted to be left alone, so he went outside to talk to Joel. Simon fixed his attention on the glasses discarded on the small kitchen's table.
"It's all over," Jesse said between sobs "I've got nothing left."
Blair looked at him and whispered, "We fought hard and now everybody knows that your brother died as innocent man."
What are you saying? The young man couldn't vocalize his words.
"This won't change things. He's dead and the fact that he was innocent shouldn't be a consolation at all."
Angrily, Jesse jumped to his feet and headed toward the table where the old gun still lie undisturbed. His fingers closed around the weapon even before Simon had the time to notice. "Goodbye Blair. Thanks for everything."
Jesse flung himself out the door with a yell that sounded like the cry of a wounded beast. It took only a couple of seconds before Blair reacted, running after him. Simon tried to stop the young man, but Blair literally pushed him out of the way, stumbling, but incredibly keeping his balance enough to keep running.
The cops waiting outside saw the man burst out of the door, a gun in his hands and reacted leveling their weapons.
"Police! Freeze!" Taggart bellowed, then his eyes widened in horror when he saw Blair coming out of the entrance, desperately waving his arms.
"Don't shoot!" the young anthropologist shouted. "The gun isn't loaded!"
"Blair! Get down!" Jim yelled, trying to get past the officers, his stomach churning.
But it was too late. Just as Blair grabbed Jesse's free arm and the man turned toward him, a volley of shots were fired. The young man only had the time to register the whizzing sound of bullets spraying around him, then found himself dashed to the ground. He didn't even notice that one of the shots had grazed his shoulder; his attention was entirely focused on the man dying in front of him.
"Why?!" he screamed as he crawled toward Jesse, trying to take him in his arms. "Tell me why?!" The blood flowed from at least four different wounds, tingeing the concrete with a sickening scarlet red. "Tell me why!" Blair pleaded, choking back an angry sob.
"It was right this way. A life for a life. Don't you get it, kid?"
"What? What don't I get?" the young man whispered.
"The woman in the apartment... I killed her!" It was all. Jesse Greene was dead.
"This is Violet Simms from Starkville's penitentiary. This afternoon at six o'clock, local time, an innocent man was executed."
The End
Author's Notes: I guess that's all! Now write me or flame I don't care! (Well, I'd prefer positive comments, of course.) Don't try to change my mind on my rather clear position, It'd be a waste of time! If you were Blair, how would you have reacted to the final revelation? Comment, criticisms, flame to Blixa_chan@yahoo.it. Take care.
(La tortura) e il modo piu sicuro di assolvere i robusti scellerati e di condannare i
deboli innocenti.
(Cesare Beccaria, "Dei Delitti e delle pene" 1764)
(Torture (and capital punishment)) is the safest way to acquit the strongest villains
and condemn the weakest innocents.
(Cesare Beccaria, "Of crimes and punishments" 1764)