by Milk;Honey
After Hollander left, Nixon asked, “What’s up, Pete?”
Decker said, “I’ve been working on a missing kid that turned into a quadruple homicide. Kid’s okay, thank God. In the room are the sister and retarded brother of two of the victims. Seems the retarded brother is ready to confess.”
“Confess to what?”
“I presume he’s ready to confess to one or more of the homicides, but the kid doesn’t want a lawyer. Actually, his sister doesn’t want him to have a lawyer. And the brother will do whatever the sister tells him to do.”
“How old’s the brother?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Who’s his legal conservator?”
Decker smiled to himself. A legal conservator wasn’t the type of detail these men would pay attention to. Not that farmers eschewed all urban life. Man, they could be wizards when it came to leveraging property or machinery for bank loans for expansion or modernization. But try getting them to make a will. He heard his father’s voice ring through his ears.
What do I need a will for, Pete? I don’t care what happens after the Good Lord sees fit to take me away.
Decker had tried to reason with him.
The estate would be thrown into probate, Dad. Your assets would be frozen, and Mom would be strapped until the funds were released. ’Course, Randy and I would take care of her, but you know how independent she is. A will would avoid all that mess.
Logic didn’t change Lyle Decker’s mind a whit.
Decker looked at Nixon and said, “I don’t think they’ve ever officially appointed a conservator for the kid. The boy—rather, man—does have a mother and a father, but the sister says she’s the one who’s been responsible for him for the last six years.”
Nixon said, “Let me talk to my clients.”
“They may not be too happy to see you,” Decker said. “I sort of forced you on them. I want the confession, but I want it done by the book.”
“Give me a minute alone with them,” Nixon said. Five minutes later, he exited the interview room. His face had become flat, his eyes had lost their sparkle.
“Everything okay, Lou?” Decker asked.
“You’re right,” Nixon said quietly. “They don’t want a lawyer. Especially a nigger lawyer.”
“Oh shit, I forgot about that!” Decker said. “I didn’t even think about you being black. These people are backwoods, have a thing against anything that’s not white Baptist. I’m sorry, Lou. I really am sorry.”
Quietly, Nixon said, “It’s okay. It happens.”
“What do we do now?” Decker asked.
“Let me be there,” Nixon said. “Let me advise them even if they don’t want it. Then, if they want to hang themselves…well, can’t stop the world from turning, Pete.”
Earl was slow to get started. He slurped his juice, looked at his sister for approval; then, head down, spoke in a monotone.
“I did it.”
“Did what?” Decker said.
“I advise you not to let your brother answer that, Mrs. Litton,” Nixon said.
“Go ahead, Earl,” Sue Beth said. “Don’t pay no attention to…him. Just answer the policeman’s questions.”
Decker turned up the tape recorder and sneaked a sidelong glance at Nixon. His face was impassive. “What did you do, Earl?” Decker asked.
“Killed them.”
“Killed who?”
“Don’t answer that, Earl,” Nixon said.
Earl closed his mouth. Sue Beth told him to keep talking.
“But the nigger hushed me up,” Earl said.
“I don’t want him in here,” Sue Beth complained to Decker. “He’s mixing up my brother.”
Decker said, “You don’t have to listen to your lawyer. But I want him here.”
“Hear that, Earl,” Sue Beth said. “You don’t listen to the black man. Just answer the policeman’s questions.” She turned to Nixon and said, “And I’d thank you not to interrupt him.”
“He’s doing his job,” Decker said. Then, quickly, he repeated his question, “Killed who, Earl?”
“Them.”
“Who’s them?”
“Don’t answer that,” Nixon said. But this time Earl didn’t listen.
“Killed Linda,” he said.
“Linda who?”
“My sister Linda.”
“He means sister-in-law,” Sue Beth said. She played with her charm bracelet. “He don’t know the difference.”
“I understand,” Decker said. He spoke soothingly. “You killed your sister-in-law, Linda, Earl?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Nixon interjected, Earl spoke anyway.
“Shot her.”
“Why’d you shoot Linda, Earl?” Decker asked.
“She was arguing.”
“Arguing with who, Earl?”
“Luke.”
“Luke was arguing with Linda?”
“Yes.”
“What about?”
“Don’t answer that, Earl,” Sue Beth piped up. She looked at Decker. “It’s personal.”
“We need to know everything, Sue Beth,” Decker said.
“I don’t see why.”
She was getting that stubborn look in her eye. Decker said, “It may be important to the case.”
“He said he did it. Ain’t that enough?”
Decker felt his chest tighten. “No, it’s not enough. Look, you want this to be over with, let me do what I have to do.”
“You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to, Sue Beth,” Nixon said. “Of course, now it’s too late to pull your brother out. He’s already confessed to one murder. But I advise you both not to say anything else incriminating.”
“I just don’t see it being important what they were arguing about,” Sue Beth said to Decker. Her voice started to quaver.
“Were you there?” Decker said.
“Don’t answer that,” Nixon said.
“’Course not!” Sue Beth protested.
“So you don’t know what’s going on any more than I do,” Decker said. “And you have no idea what is or isn’t important. Look, Sue Beth, you’re not in charge here. Furthermore, you can’t bail out your brother anymore, because as Mr. Nixon explained, Earl’s already confessed to a murder. So either you listen to your lawyer, or you let Earl answer my questions.”
Sue Beth’s lips began to tremble. “Nothing’s ever simple, is it?”
Decker said to Earl, “What were they arguing about?”
Earl looked to his sister for permission to answer the question. Sue Beth nodded.
“Things,” Earl said.
“What things, Earl?”
“Money.”
“They were arguing about money?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me more?” Decker asked.
“That Luke and Pappy was cheap.”
“Who said Luke was cheap?”
“Linda.”
“Linda called Luke and Pappy cheap?”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
“Luke got mad.”
“How’d he get mad?”
“Started calling Linda names.”
“What kind of names?”
Earl paused a moment, began to pick his nose. Sue Beth jerked his hand away.
“What kind of names?” Decker questioned again.
Earl said, “Sue Beth’ll hit me if I say them.”
“No, she won’t,” Decker said. He held the boy’s hand. “You’re just repeating the words that Luke said. What kind of names did Luke call Linda?”
“Whore, son of a bitch, pimp and the ef word.”
Decker hesitated for several seconds, then said, “Luke called Linda a whore?”
“And a pimp and the ef word,” Earl said.
“Luke called Linda a pimp?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what a pimp is, Earl?”
“No.”
“
Do you know what a whore is?”
“A bad girl,” Earl said.
“And Luke called Linda a whore?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“And what did Linda say to Luke after he called her a whore?”
“Yelled.”
“Yelled what?”
“She said the ef word.”
“Sounds like Luke calling Linda a whore made her mad,” Decker said.
Earl’s eyes began to tear. “Yes. She started to cry.”
“Linda started to cry?”
“Yes.” Earl was crying now.
“Did that make you feel bad, Earl?”
“Yes.”
“How did you feel about Linda?”
“This is stupid!” Sue Beth said.
Decker silenced her with a menacing look, and repeated the question.
“I liked Linda.”
“You liked her.”
“Yes.”
“So you didn’t like to see her arguing with Luke, did you?”
“No.”
“And what did you do when you saw them arguing?”
“I shot him.”
Decker paused a second. “Shot who?”
“Luke.”
“You shot your brother, Luke?”
“Yes. He was making Linda cry.”
“You shot Luke,” Decker repeated.
“Yes.”
“And you shot Linda, too, Earl?”
Sue Beth was about to speak, Decker held up his hand to quiet her. Earl scrunched his eyebrows in concentration, then said, “I shot her. I shot them all.”
“You’re sure you shot Linda?”
“I shot them all.”
“Who is all?” Decker asked.
“Linda, Luke, Carla, and Mr. Mason.”
“You shot all of them?”
“Yes. With my shotgun.”
First mention of the weapon.
“Okay, Earl,” Decker said, “you’re doing fine. Want to stop a moment, take a sip of juice?”
“Yes.”
“Go ahead,” Decker said.
Earl gulped down his second glass of orange juice. Decker offered him another.
“I’m hungry,” Earl said.
“I’ll feed you when we get home,” Sue Beth said.
Decker thought, He ain’t going nowhere, especially home. Arraignment, bail hearing. Not to mention all the prelims before the actual trial and sentencing. If the whole thing stuck in the first place. Earl’s mental status made anything he said suspect. But it could take weeks before someone determined his capability. Sue Beth didn’t know what she was in for.
He said, “Earl may be here for a while. I’ll get someone to fetch him a candy bar, if that’s okay with you.”
“Please,” Earl pleaded with his sister.
“Fine,” Sue Beth said. “Just get it over with.”
Decker summoned someone to bring food. After Earl gorged on four candy bars, three bags of chips, and a carton of milk, Decker resumed questioning.
“Earl? You said you killed them all with your shotgun?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s your gun?”
Earl burped. “S’cuse me.”
“It’s okay,” Decker said. “Where’s the shotgun that you killed everyone with?”
“It’s gone.”
“Where?” Decker asked. “Where did the gun go?”
“I had it,” Earl said. “Then I lost it.”
Decker tried to remain calm. “You lost the gun?”
“Yes.”
“A shotgun’s a big gun to just lose.”
“Yes.”
“Did you really lose the shotgun, Earl?”
“Yes.”
Decker rubbed his hands over his face, then looked at Earl. The man/boy looked upset, scared that he’d done something wrong. Then Decker realized he’d picked up the slight nuance of disbelief in Decker’s voice. Earl was keenly aware of how adults reacted to him, no doubt spent a lot of time worrying about displeasing the older folks. Decker smiled, took the small man’s hand, and said, “How’d you lose the gun?”
“Don’t remember.”
“Can you think real hard and try to remember?”
Earl squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and said, “Don’t remember.”
“Did you throw it away?” Decker asked.
“Yes.”
Decker cursed himself. He knew the answer was worth zip. Leading questions. Just let Earl talk.
“So you don’t remember what happened to the gun?” Decker backtracked.
“Threw it away,” Earl said. “And the little one, too.”
The .38 S and W. The boy had seen weapons. Did he use both of them as well? Decker said, “The little one?”
Earl nodded.
“Do you mean a little gun, Earl?”
“Yes.”
“Was the little gun your gun, too?” Decker asked.
“No.”
“That little one wasn’t your gun?”
“No.”
“Was it Pappy’s?”
“Don’t know.”
“Granny’s?”
“Don’t know.”
“Did the little gun belong to Linda or Luke?”
“Don’t know.”
Decker paused a moment. Slow it down. “Then where’d the little gun come from?”
“Don’t know.”
“Don’t know?”
“No,” Earl said. “But I threw that one away, too.”
“Where?”
“Don’t remember.”
Chuck the guns for the moment. Decker said, “You said you shot Luke.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“’Cause he made Linda cry.”
“And you shot Linda.”
Earl hesitated a moment. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“’Cause…’cause he…she made Luke angry.”
“How’d she make Luke angry?”
“She yelled at him. Called him cheap.”
“And that made you angry?”
“Yes.”
“How angry?”
“Just…angry.”
“So what did you do?” Decker asked.
“I shot him.”
“Shot Luke?”
“Yes.” Earl added, “And Mr. Mason, too. I shot them all ’cause they were screaming and yelling and giving me a headache.”
Maybe the boy just freaked out. Decker said, “Giving you a headache?”
“Yes,” Earl said. “A bad headache. Mr. Mason called me a bad name.”
“What did he call you?”
Earl began to rock in his seat. “A stupid, ef word retard.”
“Okay,” Decker said. “Mr. Mason called you a retard—”
“A stupid, ef word retard,” Earl corrected. He was rocking hard by now. Sue Beth told him to sit still, and he put his hands in his lap, chastened.
“Excuse me, Earl.” Decker’s voice was soft. “Mr. Mason called you a stupid, ef word retard. Then what did you do?”
“Shot him.”
“Who’d you shoot first?” Decker asked.
“Mr. Mason,” Earl said.
“Why?”
“’Cause he called me a name.”
Earl began to rock again. Sue Beth simply held his shoulder until he stopped.
“So you shot Mr. Mason first,” Decker said.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Was Mr. Mason yelling at Luke, at Linda?”
Earl didn’t answer right away. Eventually, he said, “Yelling at Luke at first. Then Linda. He made her cry.”
“Mr. Mason made Linda cry?”
“Yes. He yelled at her. And that made me mad.”
“So what did you do?”
“I shot Mr. Mason.”
“Then what happened?”
Earl paused, “I shot…I shot them all.
They were giving me a headache.”
Decker paused, carefully keeping his face neutral. “Where were your parents, Earl?” he asked.
“Parents?”
“Your mother and father?”
The boy looked confused.
Decker said, “Granny and Pappy D?”
Recognition in the boy’s eyes.
“Where were they when you shot everybody?” Decker asked.
Earl said, “Away.”
“Where was Sue Beth and B.B.?”
“Away.”
“So who was taking care of you?” Decker asked.
“Linda.”
“Linda?”
“Linda…and Luke…and Carly.”
“Okay,” Decker said. “Now you said you shot Linda and Luke and Carly.”
“Yes.”
“Weren’t you worried that no one could take care of you?”
“No. I can take care of myself.”
“Oh,” Decker said.
“But,” Earl said, “but I knowed I did something bad.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do that was bad?” Decker said.
“I shot them all with my shotgun.”
“Where?”
“In the kitchen. They were arguing in the kitchen.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Mason and Luke.”
“Anyone else?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Mason and Carly.”
“Mr. Mason, Carly, and Luke were in the kitchen.”
“And Linda,” Earl added.
“Mr. Mason, Carly, Luke, and Linda were in the kitchen.”
“Yes. Katie was taking a nap. I was in the dining room. Eating my sandwich. Baloney.”
“And who was arguing?”
“Everyone.”
“About what?”
“Money and Katie. And Linda being a whore. And Pappy being cheap like Luke.”
“What did they say about Katie?”
Earl strained to remember. “Katie didn’t belong with Linda.”
“Why?”
“’Cause Linda was a whore.”
“Who said that?”
“Luke.”
“And then what happened?”
“Linda started to cry.”
“She started to cry,” Decker said. “Go on, Earl. You’re doing great.”
“I got mad. I don’t like to see Linda cry.”
“So what did you do?”
“Got my gun.” Earl’s lower lip began to tremble. “I shot Luke and Mr. Mason.”
“Shot Luke and Mr. Mason?”
