Marshall: A Short Story

by Jamie Fade

Chapter 6

  “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?” Marshall shook his head yes. The interrogator was a tall and slender man, he was young and Marshall guessed he couldn’t have been more than a few years older than he was. Regardless of age the man was intimidating, it wasn’t so much the man’s size but his glare that made Marshall nervous. It was apparent that he wasn’t very happy about having to deal with murder, he introduced himself as Mr. Rick but Marshall guessed that his name was faker than the circular pair of glasses that hung on his face. Mr. Rick wasn’t friendly; it wasn’t like Marshall expected him to be, despite the gang activity in Cresentville there was rarely a murder. Mr. Rick sat down on a chair across from Marshall; he rested both his elbows on the cold metal table, leaned in and whispered two words “What happened?” Marshall looked up at Mr. Rick and let out a deep sigh. Marshall started from the beginning, for him that was meeting Lamarr on the street. Then he accurately ran through all of the events leading up to his arrest, Mr. Rick jotted everything down on a small notepad with a mechanical pencil as thin as he was, every so often he would nod his head as if to assure Marshall he was following along. “So who exactly was this other person?” Mr. Rick questioned as he readied his pencil to jot down a name. Then it all came rushing back to him, how could one of his most loyal friends betray him? The anger and lust for revenge lured Marshall, he opened his mouth ready to say the full name but nothing came out. “Would I have done the same thing?” Marshall thought to himself. The thought slushed around in his head before he could resonate an answer; no. Marshall wanted to believe that he would have turned back and put his own escape in danger to save his friend but he couldn’t, he knew with everything he had on the line he would’ve done the same thing. The real question was if Lamarr was in his place would he rat Marshall out? The answer was the same as it was for the last question; no. Despite everything that had happened Marshall still trusted that if Lamarr was in this situation he would’ve gone with the motto of his old gang “No sense in having two brothers locked up.” Marshall whispered to himself. “What was that?” Mr. Rick asked looking confused. Marshall shook his head “Nothing sir.” Mr. Rick grunted and then tapped his notepad with the tip of his pencil “Name?” He asked/demanded. Marshall took a deep breath, this would either be the second dumbest thing he had ever done in his life, right after a gas station robbery that ended in someone’s death. “I’m not giving it to you.” Marshall uttered. Mr. Rick went from annoyed to bordering the edge of furious; he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay I’m going to be straight with you, you’re lucky that all the evidence we’ve gathered so far says that you didn’t kill the man and there was a second person with you that night, but you’re still going to be facing some steep time unless we can get this guy to further clear this up,” Mr. Rick readied his notepad once again “Name?” Marshall shot a stern look at Mr. Rick “I’m not giving it to you.” He repeated. Mr. Rick closed his notepad shaking his head as he got up, then without saying another word he left the room. The room was metallic and gray on all almost sides, there was a single light bulb that kept things visible, not that there was much to see. The one wall that wasn’t gray wasn’t a wall at all but rather a pitch black mirror, Marshall guessed it was a one way mirror, he thought of what judgmental people were observing him on the other side. He could see a faint reflection of himself, his hair was parted down the middle in a fashion that felt chronically alien to his usual style, Marshall stared dead center at the black mirror hoping with all he had that his gaze would catch somebody; he hated being judged. What seemed like forever passed by, Marshall scratched his wrists where the handcuffs had been on him in boredom, he was told that as long as he didn’t do anything threatening he wouldn’t have to wear them and so far they had told him the truth. The room was dead silent, Marshall figured that just like any other interrogation room it was sound proof. Waiting inside the dull gray room was extremely tedious given the fact that he didn’t know exactly what he was waiting for; he would have a court hearing that much he knew. “Is anyone there?” Marshall said aloud after another long stretch of time, he couldn’t stand sounding needy but being confined for so long was becoming unavoidably irritating. Just then the thick metal door opened and in came Mr. Rick; he held a small envelope in his hands. “I’m sorry for the wait,” He apologized although Marshall got the feeling it was more for the sake of formality than anything else “Me and my co-workers were just wondering whether to give this to you now or later, we decided it’s best to get it out of the way.” Mr. Rick placed the envelope on the table, in neat cursive writing outside had the words from Sarah written on it. “Just in case you don’t give us the benefit of the doubt, we didn’t read it.” Mr. Rick assured as he walked out. The metal door slammed shut and once again Marshall was left by himself. He didn’t spring for the letter like he initially thought he would once he saw who wrote it; instead he just eyed it as if afraid of what might be inside. Mr. Rick was right, thinking that felt weird in itself but it was true, the justice system had a way of chewing up and spitting out people like him and it was needless to say that he had a lot of obstacles ahead of him, the letter was first obstacle and to Marshall the biggest. He reached out and picked it up, it felt light in the hand, it wasn’t sealed so all Marshall had to do was flip open the top and remove the neatly folded piece of paper inside.

  Dear Marshall,

  I’m writing you from the Cresentville train station, over the past few short years you have become the love of my life and will continue to be for as long as I live, however I told you that in order for us to work you would have to make some sacrifices and change some habits, lord knows I did. I’ve given up everything for you but it seems that even that isn’t enough. I’m not angry anymore because that won’t solve anything and to be honest I don’t think there’s anything to solve. I will always love you and speak well about you to baby Emily but I can’t live here anymore and I can’t be with you anymore. You always were a bad boy but heavens Marshall, murder? I don’t care what happened and I don’t care who did it, all I know for sure is that Emily needs a father figure and that cannot be you. I’m completely aware that you know me well enough to possibly figure out places I might be going but I must ask you to please not follow us. I need to start fresh and if you love me or Emily even the slightest bit then you will NOT follow us. My train’s about to arrive and I’ve nearly ran out of tears, I hope things sort themselves out for you and that you find someone who will love you as much as I do.

  Be brave,

  Love, Sarah

  Marshall slowly folded the letter back into the envelope, his chest hurt and his fingers shook and so for the first time in a long while Marshall wept.