Chop, Chop

by LN Cronk

  “Have you been keeping up with his case?” I shook my head and realized she was talking about Kyle Dunn.

  “Well, you know he’s been on death row for over two years now?”

  I nodded dumbly.

  “Anyway,” she continued. “His execution date has finally been set for April. I don’t think there will be any more appeals . . . he’s asked his lawyers not to do anything to delay it.

  “He’s changed a lot since he was found guilty,” she continued. “A group of us from the church have been visiting him . . . praying for him . . .”

  I nodded again.

  “Anyway,” she said. “He wants to see you.”

  I couldn’t have been any more shocked if she had told me he was an alien.

  “What?”

  “He wants to see you . . . to talk to you. I thought that if you were home for Christmas break you could go by and visit him.”

  I was already shaking my head.

  “David,” she said. “You have to forgive him. As Christians, we’re called to–”

  “No, that’s not it,” I interrupted her. “I’ve forgiven him . . . you don’t have to worry about that . . .”

  The truth was that I had barely thought of Kyle at all.

  “David,” she said, looking into my eyes and laying a hand on mine. “Have I ever asked you to do anything for me?”

  I shook my head at her.

  “I’m asking you now. I want you to please go see Kyle over your Christmas break. Will you do that? Will you do that for me . . . please?”

  I waited for a long moment and then I finally nodded.

  “Promise me,” she said.

  I nodded again.

  “I need to hear you say it.”

  “I promise,” I said.

  “Promise what?”

  “I promise I’ll go see Kyle . . .”

  She looked at me, wanting me to say more, but I just stared at her.

  “Over Christmas break?”

  I nodded again.

  “Say it,” she said. “Over Christmas break.”

  I nodded one more time and answered. “Over Christmas break.”

  ~ ~ ~

  AS SOON AS I got back to school I received a message from Mrs. White:

  Visitation days are every Tuesday and Thursday between 9 and 11a.m. Your name is already on the list of visitors, but you’ll need to call ahead and tell them what day and time you are coming.

 

  I called and told them I’d be there on the second Tuesday in January – the last day before I was to report back to campus for spring semester.

  I spent the rest of the semester getting ready to visit Kyle. I had a feeling from what Mrs. White had said that he’d already accepted Christ, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. For the first time since I’d been at college, I didn’t make the dean’s list – I barely made it through exams. It was a good thing that I already had a few job offers under my belt.

  I went to the Christian book store and looked through all of the evangelistic books that they had, unable to find anything useful.

  “Do you have anything else?” I asked the clerk.

  “Would you like me to look on the computer?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Here are two . . . Effective Witnessing For Every Situation and Prison Ministry. Do you want me to order them?”

  “How long will they take?”

  “A few days.”

  “Yes, please.”

  I pored through my concordance and Bible, jotting down Scriptures to memorize. I told my Bible study group what I was doing and they offered to help. They thought up every scenario that might arise and coached me how to handle each one. What would I do if he was belligerent? What if he was unremorseful? What if he didn’t believe he could be forgiven?

  I went to the library and pulled up a copy of the Cavendish Times from the week after Greg and Mr. White had been killed. I paid ten cents for a hard copy and taped Kyle’s mug shot photo inside the cover of my Bible. I practiced talking to it every day. I did everything I could think of to get prepared.

  By the time I went home for Christmas break, I thought I was ready to go.

  ~ ~ ~

  A WEEK AFTER New Year’s I parked in the visitor’s parking lot at the correctional unit and walked to the guard house. The door buzzed and I pulled it open. When it clanged closed behind me I was handed a pen and told to sign in. I wrote my name, the name of the prisoner I was there to visit, and then the date and time. I gave them my driver’s license and a guard scanned a visitor’s ID bracelet which she then clamped on my wrist. Another guard ran a metal detector wand all over my body and patted me down. Then I was buzzed out a second door and found myself outdoors again, within the razor wire fences of the prison compound.

  I followed the sidewalk to a large brick building and was buzzed in again. I entered a spacious lobby. Idly, I noticed how clean everything looked. A man in a drab, gray prison uniform pushed a dust mop back and forth and I read the number on his shirt: 73958.

  There were five doors leading from the lobby and a large dark window overseeing them all. I could just make out shadowy figures beyond the glass. I looked at each door.

  Two were bathrooms: Men. Women.

  One door read: Administrative Offices.

  Another: Visitation.

  The final door read: Authorized Personnel Only.

  I went to the one that said “Men” and I stayed in there for a long, long time. I washed my hands and then I dried them off. Then I washed my face and I dried it off too. Finally I stood with my back against the wall and rested my hands on my knees. I looked at my watch and saw that only a half of an hour remained during visitation hours. I rubbed my eyes, took a deep breath, and went back out into the lobby.

  Once I was buzzed through the “Visitation” door my visitor ID bracelet was scanned again. A copy of my driver’s license appeared on a computer screen and a guard looked back and forth between my picture and my face. She looked at her watch, pecked at a few keys, and then pushed a button.

  “Kyle Dunn,” she said into a microphone. She nodded to her right and I was buzzed through yet another door.

  A guard was in the small room that I entered. He pulled out a chair and nodded at me.

  “Have a seat,” he said. The guard stood behind me and I sat down, facing the Plexi-glass partition, and looked at the empty chair on the other side of it. There was a phone on each side of the partition. I folded my hands in my lap, looked at them, and waited.

  I sat there, staring at my hands, until the guard spoke to me.

  “Sir?” he said.

  I looked back at him. “Yes?”

  The guard nodded toward the Plexi-glass and I looked at it – through it – to see Kyle Dunn, sitting in the chair that was opposite me, holding the phone to his ear.

  ~ ~ ~

  THE CORRECTIONAL FACILITY was in the middle of nowhere and I had no phone reception when I got back to my car. I had to drive for ten minutes until I could get a decent signal. I hadn’t called Laci in over three years, but I knew her number by heart.

  All I got was her voicemail. I hung up and threw the phone to the other side of the car. A piece of its plastic housing flew into the air and the phone landed on the floorboard.

  I banged my palm on the steering wheel and drove faster. I was ten minutes from Laci’s house when my phone rang which surprised me because I was sure I’d broken it. I somehow managed to lean down and grab it without wrecking the car. I answered it, pulling over to the side of the road as I did.

  “David?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “David? Are you there? David?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Did you try to call me?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry . . . I shouldn’t have called you. I’m sorry.”

  “What’s the matter, David?”

  “I don’t know . . . look, I just . . . I don’t know . . .
oh, my God, Laci . . . I really screwed up . . .”

  “David . . . calm down. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “I went to see Kyle . . .” I said, starting to cry. “I need to see you, Laci. I’m sorry to bother you, but I think I need to see you.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m almost to your house.”

  “I’m not at my house,” she said. “I’m on campus.”

  “Laci . . . I’m sorry.” I said, still crying. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “David, listen to me,” she said. “I want you to go to Cross Lake, okay? I’ll meet you there.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “Please be careful.”

  Fifty minutes later I pulled into the parking lot at Cross Lake Marina. I got out and paced around the picnic table where we had once played cards. When Laci pulled up I sat down. She got out of her car and sat next to me, putting her hand on my shoulder.

  “I went to see Kyle,” I began.

  “I know.”

  “I really do forgive him . . .” I said, glancing at her. She nodded.

  “And, I really do want him to be saved . . . and I wanted to have a part in that, but . . .”

  “But, what?” she asked softly when I hesitated.

  “But I don’t think that’s the only reason I went.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I sat there quietly for a long moment, trying to figure out how to put it into words.

  Finally I said, “If Kyle is saved, if he goes to Heaven . . .”

  My voice broke and I had to pause again.

  “If he goes to Heaven . . . then he’s going to get to see Greg,” I whispered and tears filled my eyes.

  “I wanted to do such a good job when I talked to Kyle because I thought Greg might ask him about me . . .” I was crying again. “I wanted Greg to be proud of me and I wanted to let him know that I was still running a good race and that I was going to see him again.”

  “What happened?” Laci asked me quietly.

  “He asked me what this meant,” I said, and I twisted my index finger into my palm.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything!” I cried. “I was so shocked . . . I just lost it! I completely lost it! I jumped up and my chair fell over and I was yelling at him and I told him he had no right to ever do that and I ran out of there as soon as the guard could get the door open.

  “I thought I was prepared for anything . . . I’d worked so hard and I wanted to do so good. But when he asked me that I . . . I just couldn’t believe it!” I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath. “I screwed up so bad, Laci. I don’t know what to do.”

  She took her hand off my shoulder and paused for a long moment before she spoke.

  “This is my fault,” she finally said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I should have . . . I should have warned you. I knew he was probably going to ask you about that and I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

  I looked at her, bewildered.

  “How could you possibly have known he was going to ask me about it?”

  “Because he asked me what it meant and I told him it was something between you and me and Greg and that I didn’t know if I could tell him or not. I told him that he needed to ask you.”

  “When did you talk to him?”

  “I’ve been visiting him . . .” she said.

  I rubbed my forehead.

  “How did he even know about it in the first place?”

  “Listen, David,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not sure you really want to hear about this right now.”

  “Yes, I do,” I insisted. “How did he know about it?”

  She took a deep breath, put her fingertips together in front of her and stared at them.

  “The day he killed Greg and Mr. White,” she finally began, still staring at her hands, “Kyle was going to kill himself. He went to school with a gun under his jacket, and he went up to the second floor. Mr. White’s room was empty and Kyle went in there. He walked back to Mr. White’s office. Mr. White was sitting at his desk. Kyle said he doesn’t think Mr. White ever even knew he was there. I don’t think even Kyle knows why, but he shot Mr. White two times and then he heard Greg yell, ‘Dad!’ and Kyle turned around and shot Greg too.

  “Greg . . .” she hesitated. “Greg was shot in . . .” She shook her head and glanced at me. “Look, David. I really don’t think you need to hear this.”

  “Greg was shot in the face,” I said. “I know. Keep going.”

  She swallowed hard, looked back at her hands and nodded. “Greg was shot in the face, but he didn’t . . . he didn’t die right away. Kyle said that Greg kept trying to say something, but that he couldn’t because . . . because of his injuries. For some reason, Kyle panicked. He got down next to Greg and asked him what he was trying to say. Greg kept trying to talk, but he couldn’t, and Kyle kept asking him what he was saying.

  “And then,” she said, her eyes filling up with tears, “Greg did this.”

  She twisted her finger into her palm.

  “Kyle said he quit trying to talk . . . he just kept doing it over and over until he died.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long moment.

  “I should have told you,” Laci finally said. “I should have called you and told you. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

  “No . . .” I said, standing up. “It’s my fault, Laci. I pushed you away a long time ago. It’s not your fault.”

  She stood up too and I took her hand.

  “Thank you for coming here . . .” I said and she nodded.

  I dropped her hand, walked back to my car, and drove away.

  ~ ~ ~

  I SHOWED UP for my first day of classes on Thursday and told all of my professors that I would not be in class on the following Tuesday. I wasn’t asking their permission . . . I just wanted to let them know.

  ~ ~ ~

  ON TUESDAY MORNING I was in the visitation room just after nine o’clock and I was watching for Kyle when a guard brought him in and he sat down. He looked scared . . . as if he were really glad there was Plexi-glass between us. I picked up my phone and nodded at him, indicating for him to do the same.

  “I’m sorry about last week,” I said before he could say a word. He nodded.

  “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. I’m ready to tell you about it now if you still want to know.” He nodded again.

  I started at the beginning. I told him all about Greg and Laci and their haircuts and chop, chop and chuffers and Mexico and sharks and telescopes and index fingers twisting into palms and then I asked him if I could pray with him and he said that I could, so I did. I left when the guard told me it was time to go and I drove to the spot where I knew I’d get a signal and I called Laci.

  “David?”

  “I just saw Kyle again.”

  “Are you alright?”

  “Do you have any classes today?” I was sure that she did.

  “I can meet you at Cross Lake in an hour,” she offered.

  “Drive careful.”

  ~ ~ ~

  I DIDN’T DRIVE as fast as I had a week earlier and she was waiting for me when I got there . . . standing next to me by the time I got out of my car.

  I opened my arms and she stepped into them, laying her head against my jacket and wrapping her arms around me. I rested my cheek on the top of her head and held her tight.

  We didn’t say anything for a long, long time, but I knew.

  I began stroking her long hair, twisting locks of it around my fingers and gathering it into my hand. Finally I buried my face into her hair, my mouth near her ear.

  “Why?” I whispered. “Why do you love me?”

  “God told me to,” she said softly. “He told me that you were the one.”

  “When?”

  “In preschool – when you
freaked out just because I got my hair cut.”

  I pulled back from her and looked to see if she was serious.

  She was.

  “I don’t think I freaked out . . .”

  “Yes, you did,” she argued.

  “Ever since preschool?” I asked.

  “Well, that was the first time. He had to keep reminding me over the years because you were so uncooperative.”

  “Are you seeing anyone?” I knew the answer, but thought I should ask anyway. She shook her head.

  “What’s the matter? Can’t you get any guys to follow you down to Mexico City?”

  Her mouth fell open. “How’d you know I was going to Mexico City?”

  “Laci,” I said, “I’ve known you were going to Mexico City since the day Mercedes gave you that necklace.”

  I kept stroking her hair and she smiled at me.

  “What if there was some guy who wanted to follow you down to Mexico?” I asked. “How would you feel about that?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I guess it would depend on who the guy was . . .”

  “Well, what if he was an engineer? What if an engineer wanted to follow you down there?”

  “I don’t know . . .” she said. “Is he a grumpy engineer?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Only sometimes?”

  “Well . . . most of the time.”

  “I think I’d like that,” she nodded and I smiled before I answered her back.

  “Me too.”

 

  ~ ~ ~

  KYLE IS ALLOWED to address the two witness parties. He talks to his mother and sister first. He tells them that he loves them.

  He looks to me and Laci and Mrs. White next.

  “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Thank you for helping me to find peace. I pray that you’ll have peace, too.”

  He looks at Mrs. White and then Laci and they both nod at him; then he looks to me.

  I think about twisting my index finger into my palm, but I don’t – his wrists are strapped down and I know he won’t be able to do it back. Instead I hold up two fingers to him in a “V”, the universal sign for peace. He looks at them and a small smile crosses his face. He extends two fingers and does it back. The guard pulls a hood over Kyle’s head and he can’t see me anymore, so I turn away and look toward Laci.