Sinister Forces: Between Prison Bars and the Free World

SINISTER FORCES: BETWEEN PRISON BARS AND THE FREE WORLD               Sinister Forces: Between Prison Bars and the Free World   - Isaac Marcia Sinister Forces: Between Prison Bars and the Free World   Copyright & License © Copyright 2023 Isaac Marcia. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied, shared, reproduced or transmitted in any way, mechanical or otherwise. You DO NOT have the right to give away, sell or otherwise share this publication unless you have been granted the necessary rights (which will be in a separate license document). Legal Notice All attempts have been made to ensure that the information in this report is factual and correct, and neither the author nor the publisher accepts any responsibility for mistakes, inaccuracies or any accidental mentioning of some names in the real world. The information in this publication is just our opinion and imagination, and is not a real life story. Hence we assume no responsibility for any loss, damage or inconvenience arising from reading this material. This Page Was Left Blank Intentionally  CHAPTER ONE: THE TRAGIC scene of what happened on that Monday afternoon in Southeast Oklahoma, U.S, precisely on the 5th of October 1892, at about 12:01A.M was still playing vividly in his head as he walked home on that sunny, unseasonably mild day!   As an impartial district attorney, and having witnessed the electrocution of 12 notorious gangsters who had been on death row for the past fifteen years, convicted for first degree murder and r**e by the Oklahoma Court of Criminal Appeal and executed at McAlester, a maximum security prison which was over a hundred miles Southeast of Oklahoma City, he couldn’t help thinking.   Sadly, on Tuesday 6 October, the day after, and as if complicating the whole issue which wasn’t particularly striking or impressive, the front-page headline of Ada Evening News had read, “Draconian Justice: The Bizarre Execution of 12 Convicted Criminals.”   Flipping through the paper, the attorney shook his head and then sniggered.   And with the Christmas season fast approaching that year, 1892, he had been invited to give a speech to members of the Oklahoma judicial system.   CHAPTER TWO: MR.KAILA, who had been an interesting, fascinating and well-known legal luminary in the United States, was indeed a man of charismatic personality with a great power of oratory, even though he had been tagged, paranoia, to some.   As he was called on, all the indigent lawyers, the forest of men and women of great antecedents gave him a great welcome!   The sound of enthusiastic applause surrounded the hall as he stepped on stage.   Indeed, everyone was rapt in attention as they listened to the most vibrant, one-of-a-kind successful district attorney in United States history who has been highly renowned, well respected and recognized, not only at home but also in the diaspora.   At the conference, Mr. Kaila delivered a lecture on the subject, The Way Forward: Eradicating Crime in Society, and gave the most poignant speech that sent the crowds into a paroxysm of applause.   His thoughts on the subject, no doubt, were beautifully conceived and brilliantly constructed; and they loved it!    At the end, Kaila was surrounded by a miasma of adulation.   However, as he walked out of the conference hall after the meeting, the lights were on and the cameras were rolling!   The press corps became unusually rowdy when he got to the driveway. Big comments were expected to come out of the interview today – they thought – and no one wanted to miss a word.   “There will be no question and answer,” the district attorney had stated. A mild of thundering questions from the assembled reporters only followed his remarks. But he had made his own state of reference, he thought.   Besides, everyone knew there would be time for comments and answers much more later – maybe . . . much more later.   But strangely, and like the hat that pants after the water brook, immediately after the attorney’s no-question-and-answer statement, one of the media correspondents stepped forward and, in her usual professional antiques, asked the legal luminary questions that seemed to get words out of his mouth.   “Sir,” she had said, smiling, “what’s your view regarding the executions of the 12 convicts sentenced to death by electrocution, which, perhaps, could be cruel and totally inhuman?   Do you think such execution is humanly right in view of our modern time? And sir, don’t you think there should be better way to execute convicted murderers rather than going through this bizarre, cruel and inhuman route?”   The attorney was leaning forward, watching the press corps approaching him, plagued with thought.   “Personally,” he said with a familiar tone as if to begin with an abrupt, hasty line of thought, “and on behalf of Oklahoma City, I wish to express my deepest sympathy to the families and friends of those who were electrocuted for these senseless homicides at about 1:02 p.M on Monday October 5th 1892, at H Unit.   The reason behind this was to serve as a precedent for others. However, this morning we spoke with the Speaker of the House about the need to revisit the constitution, and the reports filed thus far are yet to be submitted to the floor for debate. At least for now, and as you can see, the constitution or the law did not object to such practices, and that’s what we’re trying to amend.   So we expect to eliminate all capital punishment or rather, execution through electric chairs as unconstitutional.”   The press corps began applauding, whistling and hooting. It was their way of confirming the attorney’s remarks.   After the assembled reporters settled down, Ms. Sophia Lima of a private broadcasting media, and with an inevitable quiet cheerfulness, asked, “We heard the Governor sent a condolence note to the families of the victims, because of the draconian method of justice, the city of Oklahoma had been a party and a strong disciple to but -” “Well,” he chirped in, cutting her off flatly and as if escaping through a bullet-proof window from a sporadic gun shot, “I guess I’ll be leaving for H Unit, and hope to get there in approximately twenty-five minutes.   Later, the members of the House of Parliament will converge for a preliminary session today scheduled at 8 A.M.   The purpose of this meeting is to focus on the constitutional reform on execution by electric chair, and rules and procedures to be followed for those sentenced to death for the crime of murder and to discuss certain privileges they may be afforded.”   Kaila always knew what to say.   He hopped into his car and went off.   On his way home, however, he detoured past the maximum security prison, which was southeast Oklahoma, where he met the Prison Comptroller lounging in a spring-back chair with a cup of coffee, reading a newspaper with his feet propped on a table.   The atmosphere was charged with violence when he visited the prison; filled with raucous noise, curse, enthusiasm and hysterical laughter coming from the inmates.   They shouted at the top of their voices, some dancing like a demon on a chase senselessly with a dollar bill.   CHAPTER THREE:  KAILA WAS indeed a man nestled in a web of activities; a busy attorney who hardly had time for his kids.   Most often he would settle in front of the large TV screen, studying the files and papers he spread out over the coffee table while Venetia, his wife, cleaned up the dinner dishes, looked to the children’s baths, read them stories and tucked them back into bed.   While she was busy having a miserable life, he, on the other hand, was always on the go – traveling and attending conferences both at home and abroad. But he had no faintest idea how his maze of activities had greatly affected his family psychologically.   Gone were the days when they were as happy as a horse in a hayfield, but like a speeding bullet after more than twenty five years, all that had changed. In May 1897, after five years of the executions of the twelve convicted murderers at McAlester prison, he was with the Prison Official at H Unit when he had a call from home.   It was Venetia.   Her voice over the phone sounded melancholic rather than pleasant and lovely. In fact, it signifies that of sinister tragedy, sorrow and pain! He suspected, in fact, he knew that something was terribly wrong when he answered the call.   Quietly but quickly, he clasped hands with the warden without saying a word and left in a hurry, hopped into his car and zoomed off, wondering in his mind what could possibly be happening. Immediately, he drove in and parked in the driveway. It was the first time in his life he had come home early from work. Indeed, the attorney had no time to deal with the behavioral misnomer of his son.   Immediately Venetia heard the door to her husband’s car slam, she almost fainted in fear.   She ran outside the room and quickly embraced him, sobbing profusely as she cried. He could tell, by looking at her face, that she had been crying all day and that something had gone wrong.   Tears blurred her eyes.   “What the heck is going on?” he asked.   “Marius,” she said, hardly swallowing a lump as her body shook with great fear and trembling.   She was the mother of both Alice and Marius.   “He’s been arrested and taken to the police custody of Homicide Division. I’m scared, Kaila, I’m really scared . . .”   Her face aflame!   Marius had clearly betrayed her hopes and trust; a ravaged son that was now an impediment to her joy and peace of mind.   However, the news did not take the attorney by surprise, but he did not look happier either. Criminal acts have been a lifestyle for his son. In addition, as a district attorney, he was painfully disappointed in the distorted behavior of his son.   “What has he done this time?” he asked with quiet confidence. “What’s his sin?”   Venetia, her eyes smarted with tears, gently buried her face in her hands like a wretched demon in a graveyard with club feet, and hardly finding the needed strength and courage, quietly whispered, “He murdered Tasha!”   Poor Venetia! With all her turmoil, she had rather preferred to be with no male child than to face the uncertain, terrifying future of her son.   Such a disaster!   Standing near his car, Lexus SC430 Convertible, Mr. Kaila staggered and almost fell. The shiver passed through him, forceful, painful. He held his chest tight, hardly swallowing a lump.   A chill ran through his spine from vertebra to vertebra, and for the first time in many years he felt the weakness of mortals running through his veins.   At that instant, he became vaguely aware the keys in his hand were emitting voltages of musical rhythm! Still he stood there shivering, sweating. Finally, he pulled himself together.   He must be strong now for his wife and daughter, he thought to himself as he firmly wringed his hands to hide his nervousness, and quietly paced back and forth around his car.   How desperately he had wished he could turn back the hand of time. As a district attorney, he has sentenced many to life imprisonment and some for the crime of murder.   Dammed the constitution, he thought.   He remembered, though pensively, the précised words the private media reporter had called it a few years ago, a draconian method.   “She must be dead right to her marrow,” he whispered!   Standing right there with his wife holding him tight to herself, he couldn’t reach the logical conclusion of his son’s fate whom he had loved and cherished so much, and had given all the good things life could possibly offer.   Lord, why?, he quietly muttered to himself as he paced back and forth. Why should this evil hunt me? Why should Marius treat me this way? Why has he chosen such a life of self-destructive behavior?   How Kaila earnestly wished it wasn’t true. Nevertheless, to think that the heinous act of murder was committed by the son of the most respected and successful attorney of the United States? That single thought alone was like adding anguish to fear.   It was Officer Louis MacWalter and Gary Rolland, of the Ada Police Department that got Marius arrested at his wife’s apartment, Tasha, at around 11:00 a.m. on May 15. “Now,” asked Venetia, “what would be his fate?” She couldn’t stop shaking. Her stomach was quivering.   Taking a deep breath, the attorney decided to make a few calls as he walked past his wife into the sitting room.   Regrettably, he played and fumbled around with his mobile phone and anticipated how the conversation would turn. How will he begin? What would he say?   The thought of being referred to as the father of a son who had committed the heinous crime of murder makes him shudder.   He sniggered. He smiled and whimpered. Then finally, he dialed the number, stood up and waited for the police chief, James Ron to answer his phone.   He strode up and down in the sitting room, peering through the window.   “Hello,” came the response from the other end, “how may we be of help to you?”   The police chief had a thickness of voice in his speech which sounded somehow peculiar. The balt of his chest was somehow huge. He was dark in complexion, tall in height even though he was hippopotamus in size.   “I’m attorney Kaila Williams Roger,” he said, comporting himself. “I’ve just been told by my wife that my son, Kaila Marius Williams has been arrested and taken to the Homicide Division. I would really appreciate it, Sir, if you could give a perspicuous analysis as to what led to that.”   “Sir,” came the reply, “your son, Marius, has just been apprehended by my patrol team over an early morning call that came to us from a resident of the apartment complex, a neighbor. He was arrested at his wife apartment at about 11:00 A.M for murder.   He cut through her lower eyelids, her nose almost severed from her face with a deeper stab all around her body. After his arrest, Dr. Jones Faulkner, the local medical examiner, was at the scene for a brief inspection and gave us his opinion.   He was calculating in the act; a remorseless murderer with a dangerous, high and confounding compulsion to kill. Sir, the evidence in our hands is beyond the shadow of doubt; your son, Marius, indeed committed the murder . . .”   The chief police policeman paused, and as if he was trying to memorize a musical line, he added with care and affection, “. . . not to talk about the knowledge that you’re a well-known and highly respected attorney of the United States, sir, is more confusing and worrisome.”   “Has he said anything? Did he confess?” remarked the attorney with some sort of nervousness.   “Presently, sir,” replied the police chief as he cleared his throat, “he’s un- cooperative.”   “He told us,” said the police chief with a sense of a little disappointment, “that he would want to see you in person before saying anything.”   Strangely disappointed, Kaila could not find logical reasons why his son, Marius, did what he did, and why he committed such a heinous crime.   But how could his son, the attorney had thought to himself even though he did not say it, have allowed himself to be crippled by the manacles of self-destructive behavior and the chain of murder?   Sitting close to her husband, Mrs. Kaila nervously reiterated as she recoiled in terror, “How is Marius? What did the deputy sheriff say?” Her body was trembling.   “He’s refusing to cooperate, not until I get to the police station.”   CHAPTER FOUR: FEW MINUTES later, there was a knock on the door. Carol, the house maid, ran quickly to the doorway, put her hand on the knob and gently swung the door open.   They were Venetia’s best friends, three in number, asking for the efficacy of the breaking news they saw on TV few minutes ago about her son’s homicide. Well, what could she possibly say? CHAPTER FIVE:  MR. KAILA, one of the successful district attorneys of the United States, had been a country attorney for over 30 years, presiding over sensitive issues regarding drugs, theft, r**e and homicides.   Moreover, passing a legal slap on those found culpable of the heinous crime of homicide wasn’t very simple or an enjoyable experience even though it was part of his job.   As an attorney, he has reasoned with people of all occupations and been interviewed by reporters over sensitive issues which have generated public protest.   Again, Kaila’s courageous sense of commitment and integrity to his profession has earned him awards and global recognition, with his resplendent literary record.   The US public, however, were struck dumb with devastation when they heard the news that the son of the most respected attorney of the States had been charged with murder. The news was all over the mass media – on TV, radio and on the front pages of the papers.   After about a few hours as Kaila walked out of his apartment, he was greeted by a host of reporters asking for the efficacy of the breaking news if really his son, Marius, committed the murder.   Shocked by how fast information could travel like a speeding bullet, he replied, “Well, what could I possibly say?”   “But sir,” asked a reporter, “aren’t you aware of the fact that your son was violent in one way or the other, to the point of committing murder?”   “He was always telling me he’s going to be a good boy,” he replied.   “Sir,” asked another reporter, “didn’t you detect any emotional or psychological deterioration in your son which, tragically, has culminated into a senseless homicide?”   “Psychological deterioration? I don’t think so. To my knowledge, there was no psychological imbalance.”   After the assembled reporters interviewed the attorney, one could sense the disappointment which suggested a terrible pain of what had become of his son.   He adjusted his tie, strengthened his shoulder and walked cautiously towards his car.   He put his hand on the door and hesitated.   Taking a deep breath, he opened the door, and with a plastic smile on his face, turned to the host of reporters and said, “Thank you all for everything – all of you, thank you,” and shut the door as his driver, Billy Jones, zoomed off to the station with two of his assistants, Claire Jones and Brat Pat.   CHAPTER SIX:   TASHA DIED on May 15, 1897.   Initially, Ada Police Department declined Mr. Kaila’s request to allow Marius, his son, to attend the funeral. However, after much request and pleading, they relented.   On the 21 May, at around 12:45 p.m. Marius was driven out of jail to pay his last homage at the funeral, handcuffed and chained, surrounded by three heavily armed sheriffs.   At the funeral, Marius stood in front of the open casket, sobbing profusely as he watched the proceedings.   He wept. He cried and moaned.   “I’m sorry, Tasha,” he kept saying to himself. “I’m really sorry, Tasha; forgive me. I never meant what I did. I’m sorry . . . so sorry, I never meant what I did.”   Kaila and his wife stood at his back as they watched their son’s ankles chained together; their daughter, Alice, and her husband next to her.   The grave site was parked with mourners, a heartwarming number of people, friends and families as the pastor offered the eulogy, a solemn but brief ceremony.   CHAPTER SEVEN:   IN JUNE 1897, Marius made his appearance in the Pontotoc County Courthouse.   The crowd gathered in the courtroom as he stood in the witness box, clean shaved, chained and handcuffed to his waist.   His mother was there; his sister, Alice, as well as her husband, Alex Stone. His father sat at the last bench as he watched the regulars of the courthouse flabbergasted, which was not new to him.   Friends, families and well wishes were at the courthouse; cameramen, photographers, reporters ready to write something.   Police saturated the courthouse.   Words were flying. Tension was high. It was breaking news; “The Son of the Highly Respected District Attorney to Be Try for Murder Case,” reported CNN, live!   It was terrifying.   The US populace were glued to their TV sets. Everyone wanted a piece of cake because of the breaking news. A few hours into the trial, Marius pleaded guilty, was convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to life imprisonment with hard labor!   It was painful and heartbreaking; Venetia had wept her soul out. Well-wishers felt down and dejected.   Immediately after the trial, and as they stepped on the landing outside the front door, the lights were on, the cameras were rolling. She tried to shield her face from the photographers when one of the reporters came around and directed the question to her husband, “Sir, you’re one of the district attorneys and here and now in this courthouse today, your son has just been charged, convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment. What would you say to all this?”   At that instant, Venetia felt she was standing on sinking sand.   “I’m sorry, I really can’t say anything at the moment,” he said, waving them off with disgust. Venetia stood there, stunned! Had they always felt this way?   CHAPTER EIGHT: FEW YEARS ago while serving his jail term, and on February 8, 2001, it was reported that the son of the Oklahoma district attorney who strongly believed that justice and freedom were fundamental to life and to human existence had died in prison of a disease known as liver cirrhosis.   ================================ THE END                             Synopsis of Sinister Tragedy Dear Editor,   Please consider the following short fiction story titled, Sinister Tragedy, a 3,184 word..   Sinister Tragedy is a fictional story of the son of the most successful Oklahoma district attorney, Kaila Williams Roger, whose life alternates between prison bars and the free world. It started with Mr. Kaila Williams, an impartial US district attorney who witnessed a bizarre execution of 12 notorious gangsters at McAlester in 1892, who had been on death row for many years, killed by electric chair.   Kaila Williams, a man of charismatic personality with great power of oratory had allowed his maze of activities to affects his family psychologically which culminated into a senseless homicide committed by his son, Marius, who suffered greatly from behavioral misnomer and stabbed his wife on May 15, 1897, several times and severed her nose from her face.                The story continues as the district attorney stood face-to-face with the law he sworn to uphold and protects - as the law stood against his own son who had been convicted for first degree murder in the Court of Criminal Appeals and sentenced to life imprisonment with hard labor.   While serving his jail term at a maximum security prison which was over a hundred miles southeast of Oklahoma City, he died of a disease that can not be treated or operated upon, known as liver cirrhosis   This short article is an impressive work of fiction with drop-in visits from real figures and ideas, such as the psychological deterioration, the first degree murder of Oklahoma country attorney’s son.   Indeed, this is a story with a global scope! Consequently, it pontificates the uncertain, terrifying pain of parenthood and the horror that could occur in a family when parents hardly have time for their kids.   It shows all of the wrong approach to raising a family in the name of work and activities, which was evident in the life of the attorney and the sometimes-psychological deterioration and senseless homicides that could be committed by our kids when we do not spend quality time with them. So what do you say, when childlessness seems preferable than giving birth to kids simply because of the pain and horror of parenthood?   This article is a beautiful-heart warming adventure in the subject of parenthood and behavioral misnomer.   PS: Remember that this article, without mincing words would double your magazine in page count and triple in advertising revenue, going from niche to mainstream.