History of the Trap: November Harvest Part 2

2

Since I was the one who found her, her throat cut, sliding out of the chair, staring at me with blank eyes, I was the first one they questioned.  Mr. Tate grilled me intensely.  It wasn't that he didn't believe me.  He just could not afford to show favoritism to the Principal's son.

Fortunately, several people could verify my whereabouts before I went into the theatre.  We had no forensic science experts, but Mr. Bruchow, our biology teacher, was certain that she had to have been dead several hours before I arrived on the scene.  He based that on body temperature, and the early onset of rigor mortis. 

Robert Pelley was not so lucky.  After his outburst at the school dance, he was taken away by Mr. Tate, but they did not hold him overnight.  He was supposed to report to detention the next morning.  There was a room that used to be the foreign languages lab, with cubicles set up for hearing tapes, that was a perfect place to isolate those who acted up.  But the concept of overnight detention had not been necessary.  That would change.

So Robert's whereabouts were unverified from the time they released him at 11 PM.  They escorted him to the room that he normally slept in, with other boys with last names starting with the letter P.  Although one boy, Alex Parsons, remembered Pelley coming in, no one else could verify that he was there later, and Pelley was not there in the morning when the first of the group started to wake up.

Pelley reported to the detention room at 10 AM, the same time I was supposed to meet Lisa.  That was a full two hours later than he was supposed to have reported.  No one knew where he had been.  He was wearing a different shirt than he had worn the night before; not highly unusual, but not always the case given our limited clothing, particularly for someone his height.  The theory was that he had to change shirts because of blood splatter.  Robert had no explanation as to where the shirt was that he wore the night of the murder.  He couldn't remember where he put it.  A massive search began to try to find the missing shirt, but nothing came of it.

Despite his story inconsistencies, Robert Pelley insisted that he was innocent. Circumstantial evidence was not in his favor, and the administration had to decide what to do with him.  Mr. Tate just wanted him arrested, a confession obtained by any means, and then him permanently detained until the trap ended.  My father felt we should do more than that.  He was formally arrested and read his Miranda rights, as if we were still in America.  Then a lawyer was assigned to him, Mr. Branch, the social studies teacher who, with his wife, was responsible for the Jeopardy game.  Mr. Tate would lead the prosecution.  A trial was set to occur at the beginning of December.  There were to be three judges; my father, a representative from the teaching staff (Miss Schram, our journalism teacher) and a student representative (Jan Houser, our Student Council President, and well respected for being even handed and fair).  Mr. Branch protested that it was unfair, given the nature of the case, a violent attack on a woman, to have two females as judges.  He was overruled by my father.

There was to be no jury.  The judges would decide guilt or innocence, and the extent of the punishment.  My father would act as the presiding judge, and make the determinations regarding bench rulings and deciding attorney objections.

But what to do with him until the trial?  For all sides, it was decided that he should not just roam free.  Daytime detention was not enough. He needed to be confined day and night.

The shop wing of the school had several bays that were behind padlocked chain link fences.  One of those bays was cleared, and a cot was put into the room.  That was where Robert Pelley would stay; only coming out to be escorted to the rest room.  All his meals were taken there, and receive any visitors and attorney consultations.

It was the beginning of a jail setup, one that would be greatly expanded over time.  But more about that later, Doctor Duncan.

How did I feel about Robert?  At first, I spent a lot of time plotting in my head as to how I could sneak in and separate his head from his neck.  But the more I thought about it, the more I was just overcome with grief for Lisa.  Nothing I or anyone did would bring her back.  I wanted him to suffer, yes, but I was prepared to let justice take its course.

And there was a nagging doubt, a little buzzing in my mind, that maybe; just maybe, he was not the guilty party.  It all seemed a little to pat, a little too neat.  But perhaps I had just read and watched too many murder mysteries.  Too much Perry Mason.  Too much Sam Smith Private Eye.

So I was anxious for the trial as anyone else, to help resolve in quelling doubts.  Why was she there?  Did I miss-hear her?  Did she say "Meet me in ten" rather than "Meet me at ten?"  A witness in her room said she left the room very shortly after I left her there.  Was she killed because I misheard one word?

We all have things that haunt us.  Things that we fear would have happened differently if we had made different decisions.  I should have listened more carefully.  I should have never left her side.  If I was going to stop or kill Robert Pelley, or whoever committed this horrible crime, the best time to have done it was before they could hurt her.  Of all the demons that haunt us, maybe hindsight is the most terrible.