by Adam Grinter
“So, Thomas you were at the petrol station on London Road in Manchester at 9 PM last night?” His tone was formal, professional. It was slightly disconcerting to see the policeman in him come out, with me on the other side of the table. Even though I was only a witness and not a suspect the nerves and fear came instinctively.
“Yes.” I replied.
“In your own words what happened?” Robert asked.
I explained and rehashed the event for him. When I got to the shooting, I skirted around it, not quite willing to put into words what I believed I had actually seen.
“The gun went off.” I told him blandly. Robert accepted my narrative and wrote my words shorthand in his notebook.
Once I’d finished Robert asked, “Do you want to add anything?”
“No, I’m OK.” I concluded, eager for the ordeal to be over.
Robert sighed and closed his notes dramatically, he put his pen on top of his closed notebook and pushed them theatrically to the side. This was a signal that what we were about to talk about was off the record. He looked me in the eyes and asked, “Now do you want to tell me what really happened?”
I debated what to tell him but he’d seen the footage, he knew what had happened. I had nothing to lose or gain by keeping quiet about it. “It was how I told you.” I told him. “Except the gun didn’t just go off. He shot him.”
Robert sat in silence, he knew this, he’d seen it.
“The shot missed him when it couldn’t. I can’t explain it. It was point blank. He couldn’t miss. I don’t understand it.” I was babbling, letting the events out, putting into words my non-understanding. There was also a touch of pleading, of hoping he would believe me, that he could explain what I could not.
Robert nodded sagely as he took in my words. I expected him to ask me to explain or elaborate, which I couldn’t. Alternatively, I hoped he would explain, which he couldn’t. However, his next question came at me from left field but was one I should have expected when I found him on my doorstep fifteen minutes earlier.
“What do you do? You told me you’d explain but you never have.” It was a reasonable request from an old friend.
I thought momentarily about what to say and what not to, in the end my friendship with him won out, I told him everything.
The job interviews.
The Catholic Church.
The job.
The newspaper article.
The prophecy.
The hunt for John.
Everything.
Robert’s eyes widened with each revelation. When I finished, he sat back in his chair and pondered the tale I’d told him. His mood was hard to gauge. I watched him carefully to see what he would say next.
“Wow.” He said calmly. I still wasn’t sure how he was going to react. “Do you need an assistant?” He grinned from ear to ear, there was a look of pride on his face. His smile was contagious, and I broke into one of my own. Relief at his reaction was physical and a cooling sensation passed through me.
He laughed and I joined in with him. We revelled in a moment of joviality in what should have been a serious interview.
Our laughter petered out and Robert rubbed his face with a meaty hand.
“I can see why you didn’t want to tell me.”
There was nothing I could say to that, so I gleefully nodded in agreement instead.
“I’m really pleased for you. I always knew you were the one who would amount to something more than shopping centre security guard.”
“Thanks.” I said and realised his approval still had value to me. I had been worried about telling him what I was doing. It sounded ridiculous, it wasn’t a real job, it was working for the church. All these reasons I justified to myself, I’d projected onto other people. I hadn’t realised, to someone on the outside looking in, this was exciting, interesting and secretive. I needed to embrace other people’s views of my role and stop wallowing in my perception of the ridiculousness of it.
Robert’s smile radiated across the table to me and I luxuriated in its power as acceptance of my role invaded my psyche.
I took a swig of my coffee to reboot myself from an almost meditative calmness that had engulfed me. After nearly a week of travelling and chasing down leads I was embracing being still. My body was telling me I needed to relax, I needed peace, I needed sleep.
I sat contentedly for a few moments then realised Robert needed to move forwards. I got up and told him I would send Maria in for him. He looked disappointed. I assumed he was eager to meet John properly. I felt it would be better if I had a quiet word with him before I put him through that ordeal.
Maria and I swapped rooms and I sat on the sofa next to John as he watched some mindless midday rubbish on the TV.
I let the colours wash over me as I stared blankly at the images that wouldn’t come fully into focus. My mind wandered but kept returning to the previous night.
He couldn’t miss.
He missed.
He couldn’t miss.
John was unhurt.
“John what happened last night?” I asked gently. It was the first time I’d directly asked him. I’d shown him the footage, I’d seen his reaction. I knew he was as shocked as me; but I needed to ask him.
John turned his head slowly towards me and looked me full in the eyes, his stare never wavering.
“I don’t know.” He answered. “He must have missed me.”
It was unsatisfactory. It didn’t help me come to terms with what I’d seen but it was said with such honesty, I didn’t doubt his words.
We remained seated in quiet contemplation for a few minutes until I felt the need to fill the silence.
“Robert’s only doing his job. Just be honest with him and it’ll be fine.”
“I know.” John replied shutting down the need for further explanation.
We went back to comfortable companionship.
Maria walked into the room a smile on her lips.
“He lovely. I like him.” She told the room.
I nodded agreement. I had always found him fair and generous. In a human being these were rare commodities, in a boss they were even rarer.
Robert followed Maria in and only had eyes for John. This was the moment he’d waited for. This was the reason for him leaving his comfortable office. This was why he’d come out into the field for a day.
“John can we have a chat, please?” He kept his tone light. He seemed to have read John in his brief introduction. He could tell he needed to be delicate. This witness needed to be treated differently. It didn’t come naturally for the boisterous man. It was an act he could pull off at will though, due to his years of interviewing suspects for the MET.
John got up and followed Robert into the kitchen. I looked at Maria inquisitively, silently asking her how it went.
“It alright.” Maria reassured me. “I wasn’t there, I didn’t see, I know nothing.”
I nodded again. I wasn’t sure why I was still nervous but Robert’s presence in my house seemed to have taken up more room than it should, I felt confined, trapped and squashed in a place that should have been my sanctuary.
I took out my phone and idly flicked through the usual apps. No email. No messages. No missed calls. I pulled up the YouTube video. It was definitely viral now, it’d hit almost seven million views. One of the tabloids was sure to get it any minute.
The TV played on to a disinterested audience. The noise it produced was not the comfort or companionship we’d hoped. Turning it off, however, was too much of an effort and the silence that would accompany it would be worse than what we currently had.
Time dragged. Maria busied herself on her phone. I didn’t know what she was doing but assumed, like me, she was keeping her eye in the video view count.
After checking my phone for the hundredth time I gave up watching the view count. I started to scroll through the news sites dreading what I was going to find. The time was two in the afternoon and the video had been up for about eight hours.
The view counter had leapt massively in the last ten minutes and was now just over eight million. I was surprised the site hadn’t crashed.
Maria nudged me and brought me back to the real world.
“Have you see this?” She asked passing me her phone.
I took the device and focused on the screen. I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to look at. She had it on the video page but I already knew the count. I looked at her quizzically.
“The comments.” She said.
I had deliberately stayed away from the comments, knowing no good ever came from reading them.
I braced myself and started to scroll the page up.
Judges
Thomas and Maria were stressed. He could tell.
Mother was calm. She told him.
‘You’re where you’re supposed to be.’ She stated simply. ‘You have done so well to get here. I am so proud of you.’
The warm glow Her words brought up in him had returned. He couldn’t stay mad at Her for long.
The three of them had left the magnificent Cathedral and Thomas and Maria had bought him some souvenirs. He felt silly in the hat and glasses. Mother had always told him to be grateful for what people gave you. He smiled, thanked them and put a smile on his face he didn’t quite feel in his heart.
He enjoyed the tube ride through London, the hustle and bustle, the noise, the crowds all assaulted his senses and he wallowed in the battering. Even the dusty and oily smells which filled his nostrils were sweet to him now. Mother kept up Her commentary in his head. Her words still there even in the deepest underground tunnels.
When they arrived at Thomas’ house Robert was waiting. Mother told John to trust him.
‘Robert is a good man, like Thomas. Talk to him.’ She encouraged.
He sat on the sofa patiently waiting for his turn to speak to Robert.
Thomas and Maria were still stressed. He could almost feel the negative vibrations they were giving off.
Mother still encouraged him. She spoke over the noise of the TV. She still loved him.
Thomas came back and smiled at him. John smiled back but he could tell Thomas didn’t feel the reassurance he was trying to pass along.
Maria followed Robert while John continued to wait. Mother told him his time would come.
The TV was on, although he paid it no attention, the colours and sounds melted into an amorphous blob in the corner of his eye. It was more of a distraction than a companion; the silence would have been worse. Mother kept telling him to be patient; he did as he was told.
Maria came back into the room and John looked expectantly at Robert as he followed her into the living space.
“John, can we have a chat?” Robert asked. He sounded happy and nice. Mother said to trust him. He had nothing to hide. With a smile on his face he got up and wandered through to the kitchen and the waiting figure of Robert.
The interview was simple. Robert asked what had happened and John told him.
Petrol station. Armed robber. Tried to help. Gun went off. Robber ran away. Paid for petrol. Drove to Thomas’ house.
It seemed very straightforward. The timeline was right. He described the gunman to the best of his ability and memory. Robert seemed happy enough with his story. He took his notes and didn’t really interrupt the narrative except to ask him to slow down his telling so he could catch up with his shorthand notes.
When John was done Robert closed his notebook slowly and dramatically and stared directly at John.
“What really happened John?” Robert said it quietly, conspiratorially. As if he knew everything John had just told him was a lie. A fib for the official record. One that needed to be told. However now they were alone, men together, he could reveal the truth.
John got nervous. He worried he’d done something wrong again. He’d told Robert everything he knew. Everything he’d told Robert had been the truth. Robert wanted more but there was no more to give him. What had Thomas and Maria said that was different. John panicked in his mind, what had he been blamed for that could get him into trouble. He’d seen, at the old people’s home and in the children’s home, when people blamed others for something that was their fault. People could get into trouble for that. John didn’t want to get in trouble especially not with the police. His previous brush with the law, where he’d been accused of something he hadn’t done, had taken months to mentally recover. Mother had spoken to him non-stop during that time and with Her help he’d eventually come to terms with what had happened. He didn’t want to go through that again.
“I...I...I...” John stammered.
Robert looked at him expectantly.
“That was what happened.” John stated eventually. He tried to put a confidence and finality in his words he didn’t really feel. He hoped it would be enough to make Robert stop looking at him.
Robert sighed and his shoulders relaxed.
“OK, John.” He replied. “You’ve done really well. I think we’re done.” There was a resignation in his tone that suggested he wasn’t fully buying it, but what choice did he have.
John blew out a breath of relief and got up from the chair. Robert mirrored his upward movement and then took the lead as he took him back to the living room.
When John walked into the room Thomas and Maria jumped apart from each other as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t. They looked guilty. They looked disappointed. They looked sad.
They both looked at John as he entered. Maria put a smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Thomas had a blank look on his face which John couldn’t read.
Robert and Thomas looked at each other and nodded almost imperceptibly at each other. John had difficulty reading the meaning of this gesture as well, but he hoped it meant everything was good.
John sat down in the same spot on the sofa he’d vacated twenty minutes earlier and he returned to the fugue-like state he was in previously. Maria watched him sit and then she in turn returned her gaze to her phone.
Thomas followed Robert into the hallway and John could hear their voices but not make out the words that were passed between them. Robert’s head looked around the door frame and he thanked Maria and John for their time. Maria acknowledged his words with a nod of her head. John waved absent-mindedly, taking his cue from Maria’s lack of interest.
He heard the front door open and close and Thomas walked slowly back into the room. He sat in the armchair and took out his phone.
They all stayed like that for what seemed to John like an eternity.
Quiet.
Pensive.
Waiting.
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘FAKE NEWS’
‘OBVIOUS FAKE IS FAKE’
‘PHOTOSHOP IS A GREAT TOOL’
The unbelieving comments screamed at me from the screen as I scrolled slowly down. Maria reached over my arm and scrolled down faster. She stopped and pointed at one in particular.
‘Why would this ugly ass MF post this shit. It’s obviously faked. People have too much time on their hands to try to manipulate the rubes into believing any old rubbish. Praise Jesus.’
The double standards were amazing. To attack somebody you don’t know online with personal insults, then to end with praise Jesus seemed the height of hypocrisy.
Maria continued to scroll and point out the vitriol being thrown John’s way. A couple of posts mentioned me and my role in it. The level of bile directed at us was unbelievable.
‘Hope someone shoots him for real soon.’
‘If shooting doesn’t work stab him.’
The threats were there in amongst the ignorance and misplaced certainty. I struggled to understand why people were so angry over a piece of CCTV footage.
The insults and accusations went on and on and I could see Maria was having the same thoughts as me. What had this world become; so hateful to strangers. So quick to take offence. So sure of our own opinion in the face of no evidence.
Before I could say anything to Mari
a about the despair the comments made me feel for mankind, Robert and John walked back into the living room.
I palmed the phone back to Maria and we separated quickly like a couple of guilty teenagers. I didn’t want to highlight the hatred the footage was getting to John. My feelings of wanting to protect him from the world at large grew stronger when faced with what I’d just seen. My despair for humanity, which had been hardened by my time on the force came back with a vengeance.
Robert noticed my guilty movement and shot me a quizzical look, I gestured with my eyes to show him outside the room. He got the message and walked out into the hallway. I hoped John hadn’t picked up the not so subtle signs something was wrong, but he probably had. He’d shown no outward sign of noticing but he couldn’t be as oblivious as I hoped.
I followed Robert out of the room and as we walked towards the front door he leant in to me and said quietly, “Maria’s great isn’t she?” He raised his eyebrows lasciviously.
I ignored his inference and just blandly agreed.
“John is special.” He continued. His voice was quiet, I was surprised at how soft it sounded at a lower volume setting. “Look after him. I’m not sure he knows how special he is.” He paused choosing his words carefully. “He radiates good feelings.” He shook his head. “I know it sounds silly.”
I put my hand on his shoulder to reassure him he wasn’t being ridiculous.
“I know.” I replied.
“Look after him.” Robert repeated. Then as if coming to his senses. “I need to get this typed up for Manchester and they can close it off.”
He poked his head around the door frame and bid his farewells to Maria and John. He shook my hand for the second time that day and hurried out the front door.
I pondered his words, ‘radiates good feelings’; he was spot on in his assessment. John made you feel better about yourself in his presence.
I wandered into the living room. I rejoined my companions without a word. The three of us sat quietly while the TV still provided background noise for the room. The colours and images were a blur to my eyes and were more of a distraction than comfort. I would have turned it off, but it seemed to have caught John’s attention. I let it play.
