A Necessary Evil(57)
“Now,” Franklin said as he paced before the jury, “the hardest part of your job begins now. You must deliberate and come up with a sentence that sufficiently punishes this man for his crimes. I trust you will think about all the horrendous things he has done. Think about those six poor girls whom he tormented and killed just for the pleasure of it. Think about my innocent granddaughter whom he would have killed had I not found him just in the nick of time. Discuss it amongst yourselves and come up with a punishment that is fitting and appropriate. Now, this time, if you don’t mind, I’m going to hang around and listen in. Last time I tried to give you all some privacy, this man…” he pointed at Collin, “…tried to kill me. So, add that to the list of his crimes too. But don’t mind me. I’ll be sitting here, listening quietly, and minding my own business. Carry on.”
At first, everyone in the jury sat still and looked at one another quizzically. Apparently, no one knew how or when to start.
Finally, after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Oliver, the attorney, stood and said, “I think we should each think of a punishment that would be appropriate for this defendant and share it with the group. Then we can vote on which idea we like best, and the idea which gets the most votes wins.”
“Sounds not only creative, but ingenious to me,” Franklin said.
Collin clenched his fists and shot Franklin a narrow glare. His emotions alternated between fear, acceptance, and anger. Right now, he felt nothing but utter contempt for Franklin and how casually he was speaking about Collin’s death. He spoke of his “punishment” in the flippant way one might discuss the weather or sports. According to the old man, Collin was a monster. But the more he observed Franklin, the more he became convinced that Franklin was more of a sociopath than he ever was.
“I think we should cut off his balls.” Everyone, including Collin, looked over to see the freaky blue-haired girl standing with her hand held high.
“Go on, Lynx,” Franklin said.
Her name was Lynx? No wonder. She was the strangest looking girl Collin had ever seen in his life. And he’d been stalking young women for years. Now, here was this freak with a stupid name suggesting they cut off his balls? Collin felt his stomach roll over on itself at the mere thought of it.
The girl looked around nervously then spoke up again. “Yeah, I think we should cut off his balls for what he did to those girls. He violated them against their will. Any man who does that to a woman deserves to lose their balls.”
“It’s an interesting idea,” Franklin said, rubbing his chin. “Is that all?”
“No,” she said. “I think we should shove them down his throat too.”
Gasps of revulsion escaped from a few of the jury members. This Lynx was the only female in the group. Perhaps she had forgotten that no man would ever inflict pain on another man’s privates. Even though the thought of losing his balls made Collin nauseated, he wasn’t really worried about this suggested punishment. There was no way the men in the group would go for it. They may want him dead, but some things were worse than death. And for a man, losing your balls fit the bill.
“Anyone else?” Franklin asked. Even the old man looked a bit uncomfortable with her recommendation.
The Italian-American with greasy black hair raised his chubby hand.
“Yes, Giovanni?” Franklin pointed at the man with a large belly that hung over his belt.
“Hows about we tie him to an anchor and drop’m in the water? Let him sleep with the fishes. That’s how we did things back in Chicago.”
Franklin stuck out his bottom lip and nodded. “Yes, but we’re nowhere near the ocean, Giovanni.”
“Forgettaboutit,” the man said with a wave of his hand. “We drop’m in one of the lakes around here. There’s Cave Run, Dale Hollow, Lake Cumberland, and my personal favorite, the deepest one we got…Herrington Lake. That sonofabitch is two-hundred-fifty feet deep.”
Collin blinked rapidly and bit his bottom lip. This suggestion was a little less extreme than Lynx’s had been, but the thought of drowning in the depths of Herrington Lake while his lungs slowly filled with murky lake water sent a shiver up his spine. He’d always thought the last way he’d ever want to die was by drowning.
“Now that,” Franklin said, pointing at Giovanni, “is a brilliant idea. I like the way you think.”
Giovanni beamed at the compliment and gave a little mock bow before returning to his seat.
“Next?” Franklin said.
The next hand to raise was the decent-looking Hispanic fellow. He appeared to be in his mid-forties and reminded Collin of the famous actor Benjamin Bratt. Collin was already growing weary of this charade. His thoughts turned to his family farm, The Vault, and his precious books. What he wouldn’t give to read just one more classic novel.
“I say we tie him to a post and burn him alive. It’ll be nice and slow…and painful.”
“If anyone would know how painful it is to be burned, it’s you, Alex.”
The man rolled up the sleeve and held out his right arm. His skin was rippled and pink. It looked raw, as if the burn had happened very recently.
Franklin turned to Collin. “Alex is a fireman. Well, used to be a fireman. He got that burn while saving a woman and her baby from an apartment fire this summer. Needless to say, he no longer works for the fire department. He now works for me as…let’s just call him my fire expert.” He turned to face Alex. “I like the way you think, hombre. But we still have a couple more people to hear from. Dr. Patesh, do you have any ideas for me?”