“Did she tell you any other reasons in private?”
“We didn’t have any discussions in private about the decision. I was only informed that we were hiring someone else and asked to be present in the room when the news was delivered to Jeremy.”
“I want to ask you about the events after this. A few weeks later, you left your position as the manager for the onboarding team to manage a different team, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And Mr. Heston expressed a strong desire to fill the role you had vacated?”
“Yes.”
“Did you feel he was also qualified for this position of manager?”
“Yes. I’d say even more so than the trainer position. Our team lead program was designed to help strong contributors progress through the organization. Management was the next natural step from there, and I believe Jeremy was ready to take the reins.”
“According to documents from your company, Mr. Heston was denied a chance to even interview for this promotion. Now why on Earth was someone who had been groomed for this very role denied a chance to interview?”
“The decision was made to only allow candidates with prior management experience. Since Jeremy lacked managerial experience, he was denied.”
“Who made that decision?”
“I don’t know, but it would have come from Shelly or recruiting.”
“I’m thinking Shelly. It’s becoming clear she had something against Mr. Heston, and went out of her way to make sure he was not given any opportunities. I want to change gears and ask about the day of March 11. Can you tell me how you were able to escape?”
“With my new team, I sat around the corner from where the shooting took place. When I heard gunshots, I looked to my left and saw blood, and saw one of my peers running and then falling after being hit. I ran from my desk in the opposite direction, as did the rest of my team. We all made it outside the building and kept running until we were in the middle of the street.”
Nicole started to tear up and wiped away the welled-up fluid with her fingers.
“No further questions.”
24
Chapter 24
Friday, October 27, 2017
The first week of the trial was over and Jeremy laid on his cot shivering. That blond D.A. fuck had done a good job of winning over the jury; there was no denying it. His play seemed simple: bombard the jury with repetitive testimony of the massacre’s events, to make them feel as if they were there. First responders and wounded survivors telling their accounts of March 11. Every story was the same, with minor personal details altered by each witness.
Linda and Wilbert cross-examined as best they could, but were hindered by emotional testimony and avoided probing the witnesses any further.
Jeremy’s body spasmed violently and his teeth chattered as he reflected on the long week behind him. Jeremy felt cold, hard fear pulsing through his veins. Only a week into the trial and it was already clear that he had no chance of surviving a death penalty verdict.
Why on Earth would these people let me walk on the insanity plea? I killed thirteen innocent people and ruined countless lives.
The thought overwhelmed him and he vomited in his toilet, spitting out chunks of the sandwich he’d had earlier in the day. His hands shook out of control as he attempted to wipe the vomit remnants stuck to his lips.
“I’m going to die in prison,” he cried on his cot. He thought of how pets were put down with a quick injection that gradually slowed their heartbeat. He would die with regret in his heart after his experiment had gone terribly wrong.
I was in way over my head.
Jeremy spent the rest of the night wondering what death felt like. Was it simply like falling asleep and never waking up? Was there a light? Would his deceased family be waiting for him on the other side?
He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, but his mind wouldn’t allow it. His conscience needed to confront and accept death right now. Every time he closed his eyes the screams from that day echoed. He couldn’t recall what the gun sounded like in the quiet office, but the shrills from his coworkers would forever ring loudly in his soul. He remembered how the smell of gun powder and blood had filled the air. He’d never known blood had a smell, but when gallons of the bodily fluid had poured from his victims, the metallic odor hung around.
The images from that day ran through his mind. He’d never taken the time to absorb the scene, always too worried about the next steps he had to take. Blood and bodies scattered across the floor had been all he could remember. Hearing testimony and seeing the crime scene photos had disturbed him in court. The bodies laid out on the ground like stuffed mannequins.
Blackness filled the quiet jail cell; it had to be after midnight. All Jeremy could hear was the ringing sound of silence, his breathing, and those damned screams from over a year ago.
“I should’ve never done it,” he admitted to himself. “I can’t die this way, for the whole world to see.”
After three more hours had passed, Jeremy pulled the sheet from his cot, tied it around his neck, and pulled the ends tight in opposite directions. It reminded him of the last time he’d worn a tie around his neck, standing outside the Open Hands office as a young and excited college graduate ready to give it to the world.
He squeezed tighter, until the feeling gave way to choking, cutting off the blood supply and oxygen to his head. His fingers lost their strength and released the sheet before he collapsed into darkness.
* * *
Jeremy jolted awake, unsure of how long he’d been out. It could’ve been five minutes or a couple hours for all he knew, in the darkness. The sheet was still around his neck and he pulled it off quickly, grateful no one had seen. Had an officer walked by and noticed his noose, Jeremy would have been sent to the mental hospital, the trial would have been delayed, and who knew what ugly chain of events would follow.
Did I just try to commit suicide?
He hadn’t necessarily had suicidal thoughts as he tied the sheet around his neck, but had felt compelled to do something, anything to get rid of the fear that had bubbled up in his soul.
And it had worked. The shivering stopped, the disturbing thoughts of death left, and he almost felt like his normal self. Instead of doubtful thoughts plaguing his mind, he remembered Linda’s last conversation with him, after the trial had ended on Friday.
“I think that was a really strong first week for us,” she said. “We’re in good shape going into the next two weeks, where the testimony will start to focus on your mental state.”
“How was that good?”
“The prosecution came out of the gate with emotional testimony—strong testimony—and they have at least one more week of witnesses. Moving forward will be more doctors and the science behind mental health, pushing the emotional testimony further back in the jury’s memory. I think Geoff actually played this wrong. He wanted to come out with a heavy punch of emotion, but now he might lose the jury to boredom. We need to capitalize on the next week and we may be able to get out of this thing alive.”
“So there’s no more emotional stories coming?”
“Oh, don’t kid yourself, there’s still more. I expect they’ll end with a bang. Your old coworker, Elayna, she suffered some serious brain damage and can’t speak anymore. She’ll be their last witness.”
Jeremy had had a good relationship with Elayna. She was a big baseball fan like him, and they would sometimes spend Friday lunch breaks at the bar next to the office, watching whatever day game might be on. It would hurt to see her in bad shape and he was glad he could brace himself for it.
“I just wanted you to know we’re still in this,” Linda told him. Her voice sounded fake, but Jeremy rolled with it. “Have you been paying attention to the jury at all?”
He shook his head.
“From my experience, three jurors usually decide the whole case. Three jurors pay close attention and take detailed notes throughout an entire trial, and go into
deliberation to sway people to see things their way. I’ve seen only two jurors take heavy notes: the older woman in the first seat, and the man in the suit. I’ll be focusing on these two during our cross-examinations and of course the closing statements. If we can convince them, we may be able to convince all of them.”
Ms. Serious might be my savior? Who would have thought?
25
Chapter 25
Monday, October 30, 2017
Day 6 of the trial
Clark Owen sat in the witness box, fidgeting nervously. He had never liked confrontation, or being the center of attention, so being in a witness box to testify about his old, murderous friend was worse than being buried alive.
After all this time, Clark had maintained his fiery beard, grooming it for his court appearance. Not many witnesses had been able to make eye contact with Jeremy, but Clark couldn’t keep his sad brown eyes off him. Jeremy, for his part, couldn’t make himself meet Clark’s stare. He hadn’t wanted to kill Clark that day and got lucky: he saw Clark in the parking lot before he entered the building.
Geoff opened questioning. “Mr. Owen, how long did you work with the defendant?”
“I was there before he joined the company, so I technically worked with him his entire time there,” Clark said in a shy voice.
“How long did you work with him directly on the same team?”
“For two years, up until the shooting.”
“How would you describe your relationship with the defendant?”
Clark paused, staring to the ceiling in search of the right words. “We were friends. I considered him my closest friend in the office.”
This statement forced Jeremy to look up to Clark, and their eyes locked immediately, causing Jeremy’s stomach to flip like a gymnast.
“I find it interesting that you two were such good friends, and miraculously on the day your friend decides to shoot everyone in sight, you were nowhere to be seen. Where were you during the shooting?”
Clark shifted in his seat. “I had gone out to my car. I was trying to buy something online and couldn’t find my credit card, so I went to my car to look for it.”
“That’s convenient.” Clark looked down to his lap, his eyes bulging in shock.
Linda shook her head in disbelief. Jeremy assumed that she would have objected to his hostility, but she didn’t.
“According to the police reports, and the statement you provided, you walked out of the office door where the defendant’s car was parked. You would have walked right by his car on your way out, and you didn’t think anything of it?”
“No, sir. I was just going to my car, I wasn’t paying attention to whose car I passed.”
“Did the defendant ever hint to you about what he was going to do?”
“No.”
“Did he ever express his disgust toward upper management to you?”
“Yes. We both did. We were both treated unfairly and often vented to each other.”
“Ever about Shelly Williams directly?”
“Yes, of course. She was the one holding us both back.”
“But never a suggestion of violence?”
“No. It was normal coworker talk about hating our boss, nothing special.” Clark spoke with a hint of frustration. He seemed to want to defend Jeremy.
“Did you ever spend time with the defendant outside of work?”
“Yes. We would go to happy hours, lunch, and even golfing sometimes.”
“When was the last time you had an out-of-office get-together?”
“It was the day before the shooting, March 10.”
“What did you do?”
“We went to lunch near the office.”
“And still no mention of any sort of planned attack, or a warning to you to keep away the following day?”
“No, sir.”
“Just so I’m clear of the timeline of events.” Geoff paused and flipped to a new page on his notepad. “You two would complain about Shelly from time to time. On Thursday, March 10, the day before the shooting, you and the defendant went to lunch. On Friday, March 11, the defendant goes out to his car to prepare for his shooting, and at the same time you head outside to your car to look for a credit card, and just happen to stay out there while the shooting took place inside?”
“Yes.”
Linda stood slowly. “Objection?” she asked, apparently not sure exactly what she was objecting. “Is this an interrogation or testimony?”
Judge Zamora nodded his head and put a fist to his mouth. “Mr. Batchelor, I do agree with Ms. Kennedy. Your questioning seems a bit odd. I’m going to allow the last question, but please try to keep this focused on the trial of Jeremy Heston, not Clark Owen.”
Geoff replied, “Of course, Your Honor,” and Linda sat down with a victorious grin.
“My apologies, Mr. Owen,” Geoff said as he returned his attention to the redhead on the stand. “You never crossed paths with the defendant on the morning of March 11?”
“Correct.”
“And you were never tipped off about the shooting by the defendant?”
“No.”
“No more questions.”
The courtroom remained silent as Geoff returned to his table. Clark’s face turned a shade of pink as he waited for the defense to step up. Something felt off, and the whole courtroom could sense it.
Jeremy remembered back to the moment just before he entered the office. He had just locked the back door with the two-by-four and come running around the corner when he saw Clark disappear into the sea of cars. Clark was telling the truth.
The district attorney had tried to create a narrative that could have placed a lot of doubt in the minds of the jury, and had failed miserably.
Linda stood at the podium and flipped through her pages of notes.
“Mr. Owen, you and the defendant were friends. Good friends. Did he ever share things about his personal life with you?”
“Yes. We shared stories about our family life and our past.”
“Did he ever mention to you that he owned a gun?”
“Yes, he did. He told me when he bought it. My father was a gun collector, so I’ve always had an interest in guns.”
“When did he tell you he bought the gun?”
Clark crunched his face in thought. “It would’ve been late 2015, I don’t remember exactly when.”
“Do you own a gun?”
“Yes, I do. Just a small pistol I keep for protection.”
“Did you ever go shooting with the defendant?”
“No. We talked about it, but never set the plans.”
“During your time working with the defendant, did he ever show signs of violent behavior?”
“No. He was always loving and cared about the team. I’d even call him a peacekeeper, when things got out of hand.”
“What do you mean by ‘when things got out of hand’?”
“Well, Jeremy was just always there for us. We went through some tough times as a team when we had management change. Jeremy was always there as a voice of reason.”
“What did you talk about that day before the shooting at lunch?”
“We talked about the upcoming baseball season and about work.”
“What exactly about work?”
“We hadn’t caught up after Jeremy was put on his PIP, so we talked about that process and how we felt our new manager, Mark, was leading us in a bad direction.”
“Was a talk like this out of the norm for you two?”
“No. It was actually what we always talked about: work and sports.”
“What happened when you went outside on March 11? There must have been something that told you to not go back into the building.”
“Yes. I heard gunshots coming from inside as I approached the building again.”
“Did you see the two-by-four that barricaded the door?”
“I did. I kept my distance though. I could hear loud screams and what sounded like banging on the walls.”
/> “What did you do at that point?”
“I went back to my car and called the police. They told me they had already received a bunch of calls and were on the way.”
“At what point did you learn that Mr. Heston was the shooter?”
“Not until I got home that evening and saw the news. Everyone I talked to that made it out alive didn’t get a clear look at Jeremy. All they said was a man dressed in all black started shooting at the office.”
“Thank you, Mr. Owen. No further questions.”
Clark stood and walked down the center aisle, keeping his stare fixed on Jeremy. The two locked eyes one final time before Clark walked out of Jeremy’s life forever.
26
Chapter 26
Monday, October 30, 2017
Jeremy remembered shooting at Melissa Marsh. She had poked her face around the corner shortly after he opened fire. His reflex in the moment was to point his AR-15 right at her and pull the trigger. She had turned to run, her long blond hair flowing behind her as she escaped.
Now she sat on the witness stand, same long hair, same big blue eyes that had bulged at the sight of the gun. Her already pale skin appeared even lighter. She seemed tense, Jeremy thought, glancing around the courtroom nervously. You could probably use one of these pills I’m taking.
“Ms. Marsh, when did you work at Open Hands?” Geoff asked.
“I started there in 2010, when the company was still E-Nonymous. I worked there until the shooting.”
“What was your role with the company?”
“I worked on the People team. That’s what we called human resources. I started as a recruiter and eventually took on more responsibilities across the H.R. spectrum.”
“Did you recruit the defendant?”
She nodded her head and looked down as she spoke. “I did.”
“How did your early conversations with him go?”
The Burden Page 11
