Twisted Fate(52)

“Okay,” I said. “Do what you have to do, sis. The police will decide if it’s a problem or not. I can see how upset you are. Do it and then come home and I’ll make you some hot cocoa. I’ll bake you some muffins.”





There was, of course, nothing we could do about the video he had. It was evidence from another crime, and he was apparently not using it for anything, just keeping it. The other videos she said he had we could never find, and sadly I think it was just something she made up so that there would be another reason to go after him.

We tried everything we could, called it a snuff film because that’s essentially what it was, and that was all we could do. But you would be amazed at how wealth can tie up a court or how psychiatric experts can be used to turn things you know are wrong into things that are considered therapeutic. That family circled the wagons like nothing I’d ever seen in my life. Privilege doesn’t begin to describe it. It was like we were nothing to them. They were some kind of royalty. The family’s lawyer reminded the DA here repeatedly about double jeopardy. I don’t know which was worse—them telling us that we’d victimized their son, or knowing that the kid’s dad could just buy his freedom no matter what. And this came after everything that had happened to Brian.

We would sit around shaking our heads, wondering if this kid, Graham, was a sociopath, or if he was just the stupidest kid we’d ever come across. And then he would come in and be such a nice kid. I mean, polite, easygoing, incredibly relaxed, confident, focused. His parents clearly loved him and paid attention to him. He didn’t look like he was capable of any of these things. And it really did remind you of why there’s such a thing as juvenile detention—because kids don’t think the same way as adults—some kids may never develop adult morals or understanding, some kids get more selfish as they get older, but most don’t. Most people in Graham’s situation would look back on his life and shudder. Know that they had made a mistake and wonder how they could even have been that person. That’s the best you can hope for in a situation like that.

In the end the worst of it was how that girl got traumatized by seeing the video. I felt bad for her, I did. I can’t imagine watching it and sitting right there in his room and knowing he was your friend. And of course it’s bad having any kid learn the hard way that sometimes the justice system doesn’t work like you want it to. Let alone a kid like Phil Tate’s daughter. That girl did not listen to anyone and did not take no for an answer. She was a force. And after seeing that video, she was an unstoppable force.





I felt like I was losing my mind. I went out and skated and skated and tried to get the images out of my head. I was so angry I thought I would burst. How could it be that I was the only one who saw how bad things were? I didn’t tell anyone but the police about Graham’s film. Of course I didn’t tell my parents who probably didn’t even notice I was upset at all. And when the police did nothing, I felt like my life was a puddle that was drying up. Everything seemed to get smaller and more terrifying.

How could what he had done be legal in any way? How could he hide who he was so easily? Why couldn’t they just go into his house and grab the computer and arrest him and take him away? How could they tell me that I had been breaking and entering, committing a crime, when he was the one who was sick and dangerous?

I began having nightmares. Almost every night. We were living right next door to this guy and still Ally slept soundly. She still didn’t believe me but she was nicer to me than ever. We spent more time together. We would come home right after school and just sit in our room and talk. She knew something had happened, there’s no way she didn’t, but she still thought I was making up most of it or the police would have done something.

At some point, I felt so defeated I started believing her version of everything. It was easier just to believe her honestly, to deny everything I’d seen, to take comfort in her view of him. I let her take care of me, bake things. I just hung around the house with her. She still went out with Graham but I stayed home. I didn’t feel like hanging out with my friends because I didn’t want to burden them.

But one night everything shifted. Ally would tell me what Graham and she talked about sometimes, and he slipped up. She thought Eric was still alive and he told her he wanted her to come to Virginia with him and visit his grave.

Of course, she chalked it up to him “grieving,” but I knew it was weirder than that. He told her he wanted her to come visit his grave and then the two of them would take a drive together on the roads that Eric and he used to drive in the Austin.

When she told me this, I got angry all over again. He wanted to do the same thing to Ally. He was looking for another Eric and he wasn’t even being clever about it. He was so drug-addled and stupid and arrogant and he had no respect for my sister—he just told her like it was how he wanted to film her and kill her and she was still gullible enough to listen. He had said similar things to me. That’s why he always wanted me to take his drugs.

He was looking for someone to take all the pills that make you brave and relaxed and think you’re invincible and drive that person into a bridge or off a cliff or who knows what. And he didn’t care if it was Ally or me or anyone. What he wanted was to see that image, to sell that image, to believe in the stupid idea that he was a cutting-edge artist doing things that no one could understand.