KILLER ADDICTION: When Murder Becomes A Habit

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

WITH NERVES JANGLING and hands trembling, I walked shakily up to the main entry of the enormous Marine Corps Base in Quantico, Virginia. Attending the famous FBI Academy as a New Agent Trainee seemed a lifetime ago.

The accident happened in my very last week of training before graduation. I was tearing along Hogan’s Alley on one last big training exercise, running full speed and desperate to impress my instructors. And what was it that brought down the impressive hero? The all-star college quarterback and soon-to-be FBI agent was in full battle cry when sabotaged by a loose f*****g shoelace! If I’d paid more attention to my mother all those years ago about tying my shoelaces properly, I wouldn’t be in this goddamn mess right now.

It turned out that my bung college knee wasn’t quite up to the challenge of tripping on my shoelace at full speed—my leg wrenched sideways, and I blew my knee all over again. They dragged my sorry a*s to hospital; I met Sally, couldn’t face the long physical therapy rehabilitation again, and that was all she wrote. A brilliant mind and a promising law enforcement career ended up in the toilet, all because of a few inches of loose cotton and polyester; of all the dumb luck.

I found out later that my story quickly became something of a legend at Quantico—I became ‘Simple Simon’, who was so dumb that he couldn’t tie his shoes. Ironic really, considering that I had one of the highest I.Q.’s of all the trainees who had been through this place.

I signed in at the main entrance to meet up with my old instructor, Melissa Munro, who had graciously taken my call the day before and agreed to see me. She had no inkling what I had been up to since I left the academy more than a year ago without seeing it through to graduation, so had been curious to see me again.

Since the police had been no help, I wanted to enlist Melissa’s help on Sally’s case. I needed help from a law enforcement agency; I needed resources and access to data. Melissa had been good to me when I was here—I’d met her husband and little boy and knew she had a nice family. She’d cared about her students and had wanted us to do well.

As my security escort drove our electric buggy through the grounds, some wonderful memories of this place came back as I remembered fragments of who I used to be and the man that I was back then. Then I cringed as we rode past Hogan’s Alley, the scene of my disastrous fall from grace, and all the pain came flooding in.

My guard escort dropped me off at the Quantico academy and I waited in the lobby for Melissa. She appeared from around the corner and I remembered how attractive she was, even though she was ten years older than me. Her long auburn hair flowed behind as she strode down the grey corridor and her curvy body that I had in the past admired so much, still looked amazing. But she looked sad, seemed to have lost the positivity and vitality that I had remembered so well.

Our eyes met. She stopped in her tracks, with a shocked look on her face. Her eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped as she stood there for what seemed like an age. Brutally reminded once again of my appearance, I realised that I still bore the look of a strung-out junkie. I had only been clean for a few weeks and my wasted body was still recovering. And my wardrobe didn’t help; a second-hand tie-died T-shirt from the thrift shop wasn’t exactly an inspired choice, not only for what it looked like, but because it exposed my horrible street tattoos, druggie track marks and emaciated frame. Not to mention my sunken cheeks and hollowed eye sockets. I might as well have had the words ‘h****n ADDICT’ tattooed on my forehead. Not exactly the great first impression I’d planned.

Suddenly uncomfortable with her reaction, I folded my arms and hung my head in shame, staring at the floor. I put myself at Melissa’s mercy and just hoped she would approach without dismissing me completely, to give me a chance to explain.

‘Simon? Is that really you? Jesus Christ! What did you do to yourself?’ she asked from across the other side of the foyer, still unmoving.

‘It’s not what it looks like, Melissa,’ I said in a pleading voice. ‘Well, actually, I guess it is, but I’m clean now. I’m not using anymore. Please, let me explain.’

‘Simon, I have to tell you, I’m not in a good place. I’ve had a traumatic time in the past year, and I’ve only just come back to the academy. I can’t handle any more drama, and you don’t exactly look like you’ll bring anything good into my life.’

‘I’m sorry Melissa, I didn’t mean to shock you like that. Because I’m getting better and I’m feeling healthier, I forget that I still look like... this,’ I said as I looked down at myself and put my hands out, gesturing back at my body. ‘Please, just give me a few minutes so we can talk. You were always my favourite instructor here and I feel you’re the only one I can turn to now.’

Melissa’s stance softened and then she came over to me, still looking troubled. ‘We can have a coffee, but I can tell you that will be it. I’ve got no time for anything right now except my son and my job.’

We walked in silence over to the cafeteria, with Melissa occasionally glancing sideways at me and sadly shaking her head, so shocked and disappointed at what I had become.

We sat down at a table, her with a frothy cappuccino and me with a double shot long black. One benefit of being off the horse was that I was getting my taste buds and my appetite back, and I was enjoying coffee again.

‘Simon, what the hell happened to you?’ she asked. ‘You had such promise, you were the best and brightest student in your class! What happened?’

I stared down into my coffee, unable to face the accusation and disappointment from the woman who had meant so much to me when I was here, who I had admired and desperately wanted to impress. I shrugged my shoulders and replied, ‘I was pathetic and weak. After I blew my knee again, I just couldn’t face another round of physical therapy, so I just gave up. You didn’t know it then, but I was addicted to painkillers when I was here, from back in my last year in college when my knee went the first time. From there, it was a downward spiral to booze, then pills and on to hard drugs. I ended up addicted to h****n, shooting up every day.’

‘Jesus. That must have been terrible. But how did you let yourself sink that low? When you had so much going for you?’

‘I guess I just didn’t appreciate the life that I had and pissed it all away. And the worst part was, I took someone else along with me, someone who was incredibly special to me. A beautiful soul, who’s no longer with us. It’s all my fault, she’s dead because of me. If I hadn’t dragged her into that hellhole, she’d still be alive right now.’

‘So, what was it that finally made you get clean?’ she asked.

‘Sally. My poor Sally,’ I replied, suddenly overcome with grief all over again. Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at Melissa, transfixed, hoping desperately that she could see past what I had done to myself and would help me. Melissa looked back at me, seeing the anguish written all over my face and staying silent, waiting for me to continue my painful story.

‘Someone killed her,’ I said. ‘Some psycho took her from right next to me in the park. I was completely stoned out of my mind, passed out unconscious, and when I woke up, someone had taken her. The next night, the killer left me a note and sent me to find her. He’d tortured her and stabbed her multiple times with syringes, they were all poking out of her like a great big junkie pincushion. Oh Melissa, it was terrible!’ I sobbed, this time losing it for real. My body heaved with sobs as all my pent-up emotions burst out of me and I just sat there, hunched over in my misery.

I felt a gentle hand softly patting me on the back, but it felt deliberately distant, almost like she didn’t want to give me the wrong idea or get too close. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Simon, it’s a terrible story,’ she said. ‘Sally didn’t deserve to die like that.’

‘Thanks Melissa, your sympathy means a lot to me. I’ve felt so broken and worthless for so long and have had no family or friends around me. It was just me and Sally against the world, and since I lost her, it’s just been... me. I’ve been so lonely.’

‘I understand Simon, believe me. I understand,’ said Melissa, her own voice full of sadness.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, suddenly concerned for my mentor.

‘I mean I know what it’s like to lose the love of your life in tragic, traumatic circumstances,’ she replied, eyes moist and gazing into the distance as if she was trying to disconnect herself from the story she was about to tell. ‘It was only six months ago. I was home at night with my husband and my little boy. We were all asleep together in the bedroom and we woke up to find two armed men at the foot of our bed, dressed all in black, with hoods over their heads. We were in the middle of a home invasion! My husband reacted instinctively the second he woke up. He jumped straight out of bed without thinking and rushed them. One of them just pointed his g*n right at him and shot him straight in the head. Just like that, he was dead,’ she said, her voice trailing off softly into silence.

‘Oh my God, Melissa, I’m so sorry,’ I said. Now it was my turn to comfort her with a pat on the shoulder, my grief suddenly diminished after this revelation.

‘I was in shock. It all happened so fast; I couldn’t believe that my husband was dead on the floor. I looked down at my little boy and his tiny face frozen in horror, looking at his daddy just lying on the floor in his boxer shorts, with blood streaming from his head. My poor baby was so scared that he wet himself,’ she continued, her voice a monotone, like she was dead inside. Like she had been living with a grief so intense it had become part of her, had her clutched in a vice-like grip. ‘I reached over and picked up my boy, to comfort and protect him. I had seen what these men were capable of and now that my son and I had witnessed what these killers had done to my husband, I knew we would be next.’

Dumbfounded, I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing, that a random act of such casual but deliberate violence had shattered Melissa’s domestic bliss so completely. ‘What happened? How did you make it out?’ I asked.

‘I had a g*n hidden in the walk-through closet. I showed the men that my son had wet his pants because he was so scared and that I needed to take him to the bathroom. I played scared and helpless, crying and blubbering—they didn’t figure me for a threat. I walked through the closet, put my son in the bathroom, told him to be quiet and shut the door. Then I quietly came back through the closet, grabbed my g*n from the top shelf, flipped the safety off and stepped back into the bedroom. One of them was going through my jewellery box with his back to me and his g*n was on the dresser beside him. The other guy was nowhere in sight. They were dumb amateurs.’

Melissa’s story hit me like a bombshell. Just a few weeks earlier I had been one of those men, breaking into people’s houses. Not when they were home. But if someone had surprised me when I was mid-burglary, who knows what I would have done in my d**g-addled state? Not exactly a story I wanted to share right now.

‘I crept up behind the guy and jammed my g*n in hard, right behind his ear. I told him to call out for his buddy and then we moved back to the centre of the bedroom, facing the door. I had the muzzle of my Glock pressed hard against the side of his head. The moment his partner appeared in the doorway, I shot him in the face,’ she said coldly.

Now it was my turn to let the silence hang while I waited for Melissa to continue.

‘The remaining guy panicked, pulled away from me and went for his g*n. I let him grab it and turn just enough so he was facing me and then blasted a hole in his chest. He fell back and let off a wild shot, which lodged into the wall above me. Then there was silence. Until I heard the whimpering. The sad, soft cries of my poor little boy, hiding in the bathroom, terrified of the gunshots, not knowing what was happening, if I was alive or dead.’ A solitary tear ran down her cheek as she finished her story and her gaze came back to me.

‘Melissa, my God. I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I wouldn’t have come and told you my story if I’d known what you’d been through. I really am sorry; I can’t imagine how difficult this must have been for you and your little boy. I mean, my situation is tough, no question about it. But knowing the history and life you shared with your husband and having your son witness his father’s murder like that, I really can’t even begin to understand what that must have been like for you.’

‘Yes, it’s been difficult. The investigation afterwards was a formality, thankfully. Nobody questioned that they didn’t deserve what they had coming, and I made sure that the physical evidence at the scene corroborated my altered version of the story. I just knew right there in that moment that my son and I needed a quick resolution and swift revenge—neither of us would have coped with a long, drawn-out investigation and trial. I needed to dispose of them in that moment because of what they did to our family,’ she replied in a voice of cold steel.

There was an inner strength to Melissa, much deeper than I had ever seen in her instructions in my classes. Moments of crisis reveal a person’s strength and resolve. And I gained even more respect for Melissa after hearing what had happened to her and how she had responded. She was no helpless victim.

‘It took six months before I was ready to come back to work. The Bureau has been supportive of my need to look after my son. He’s still traumatised, going through counselling. The healing process is a constant struggle. But I could tell it was time to resume a normal life and for me to get back to work and for my son to integrate back into a normal childhood.’

‘Again, Melissa, I’m sorry to have troubled you with my story. I wouldn’t have bothered you if I’d known your situation.’ I suddenly regretting contacting Melissa just because I needed something for a terrible situation entirely of my doing.

‘That’s okay, Simon. It’s good to see you, even in such a poor state,’ she replied in a soft, sad tone as she looked me up and down once again. ‘You really were one of my favourite students, and I’ve wondered in the past what became of you after the infamous “shoelace incident” in Hogan’s Alley. And although I’m sorry to hear of your personal situation and what happened to you and your poor Sally, I’m glad you shared your story with me. And I’m happy to hear you’re getting yourself back together. But what did you come here for? What do you need?’ she asked.

‘I’m sorry, Melissa, I was being selfish. I wanted someone to help me. The police aren’t getting anywhere with Sally’s murder investigation. As far as they’re concerned, she was just another junkie who got killed, nothing important. They’ve moved on to other things. And I made Sally a promise at her grave that I would find her killer. But I know I can’t do it alone. I need help, access to police records, that kind of thing. But after hearing what you’ve been through, I understand you can’t help me. I’ll find another way.’

‘I’m sorry, Simon, but like I said before, I just have no room in my life right now for anything other than my recovery and my son’s welfare. I just can’t take anything else on now, especially anything that might bring danger into our lives,’ Melissa replied.

‘I understand, Melissa, I really do,’ I said and reached out and squeezed her hands. I felt a sudden charge of energy as our hands touched and felt her warmth and vitality. Our eyes locked and then she let go of my hands, letting the moment pass unacknowledged. ‘Thank you for listening Melissa, I really appreciate it. I don’t have a phone, but if you want to get in touch with me, I’m staying at the Shady Palms Motel in Arlington—you can reach me there.’

‘Okay, thanks Simon. I’ll give you my number if you need to contact me in an emergency instead of having to reach me here at the base.’ She gave me her card and scribbled her number on the back and handed it to me, then reached out and shook my hand. ‘Goodbye Simon. It was good to see you again, even under these difficult circumstances. Do you want a lift back to the gatehouse?’

‘No, I’m fine thanks Melissa, I could do with the exercise. And thank you again for seeing me, I really appreciate it. Bye.’

‘Bye Simon, take care,’ she said and turned away and walked back across the lobby. I waited and watched her go, then smiled as she turned back around and gave me a wave before she entered the elevator.

I exited the building and began the long walk back to the guardhouse, enjoying the sunshine as it reminded me of Melissa’s warmth when we held hands together for that fleeting moment. It had been the first soft human touch I had felt since Sally’s death. My life was so empty without her.