The cereal would remain unfinished, the apple only half eaten. His stomach was too tense to consider pushing anything else into it. He already felt as if he might vomit, and considered forcing himself to before leaving for the courthouse. The fact that his own attorney couldn’t give a concrete prediction terrified and comforted him at the same time.
Over his first few months in jail, Jeremy had felt nothing but regret. Not for his actions, but for not having prepared beyond the actual day of the shooting. He had done research on the legality of his planned crime, but put no energy into how the public would react.
All mass shootings followed a similar course. The week following a shooting was filled with useless thoughts and prayers for the victims, then everyone went back to life as normal. For whatever reason, society was shackled by the misconception that there was no way to change the ever-growing gun obsession.
Fortunately, Jeremy wasn’t out to policy change the untouchable Second Amendment, but rather to influence society’s views on mental illness. The trial revolved around his supposed mental illness, and if he ended up getting a good verdict later today, it might cause the slightest shift in how people viewed mental health. Or they would be outraged and riot in the streets.
* * *
The drive from the jail to the courthouse felt longer than normal. There were only two stoplights, and they caught both of them red. Jeremy’s stomach felt like a wet cloth being wrung out to dry, but he managed to keep his hands from trembling. The officer didn’t speak a word as usual and ignored the messages coming across his radio.
When they arrived at the courthouse parking lot, a mob of reporters waited at the back entrance, where they knew Jeremy would be escorted. There had been handfuls before, at various times throughout the trial, but a quick glance suggested at least fifty members of the press waiting, flashing cameras as the car came to a stop directly in front of the door.
The officer opened the door for Jeremy, placed a hand on his arm, and guided him toward the entrance as the press shouted at him.
“Jeremy, what do you think will happen?” asked one.
“Are you prepared for a guilty verdict?” asked another.
“How are you coping with all of the world watching you?” shouted another.
All of the world? It occurred to him that he had no idea how wide of a reach this trial had. Sure there were cameras in the courtroom, but he figured a majority of the TV audience would be Colorado locals and a few people around the country who knew someone affected in the shooting. But the whole world? That reporter had to have been exaggerating.
As instructed by Linda early on, Jeremy remained silent as he entered the courthouse and heard the shouting of reporters reduced to a murmur behind the closed door. The officer guided him to his special holding room.
“Should be about a half hour before you’re due in court. I’ll be back for you then.” The officer vanished and left Jeremy to spin in his racing mind.
Okay. It’s okay. This is what this has all been for.
He felt a sudden urge to shit, but had to fight it off as that opportunity wouldn’t come until after the verdict. It was just bubble guts anyway—he had to focus on calming himself down. His suit was laid across the table, and as he changed, he wondered if he’d ever have to put on the dark red jumpsuit again.
The thirty minutes felt more like two hours as Jeremy waited in the isolated room. He loved the room as it had a window, and he stared out at the snow-capped mountains in the distance, remembering the shooting sessions he’d had at his Uncle Ricky’s cabin many moons ago.
The door swung open to bring him back to present time. “Let’s go,” the officer said coldly. Jeremy stood and his legs felt like gelatin, wobbly and unstable.
He took slow steps across the room before the officer grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door to enter the courtroom. The world came to a brief standstill as Jeremy stood before the door, every defining moment of his life flashing into his mind in quick snippets. His childhood, his parents, starting school, friends, teachers, graduation, falling in love. Jamie. It was funny how fast life could go by, and yet those special memories remain frozen in time like portraits on a wall.
The door opened to the courtroom, and all eyes in the gallery immediately shifted to him. They were just as eager as he was to know the outcome. He saw his parents in the front row behind Linda and refused eye contact once again. Locking eyes with either of them would melt his soul into a puddle of tears, especially if the verdict came back guilty.
Jeremy blacked out for a moment, not conscious of walking across the courtroom and taking his seat next to Linda before the bailiff shouted, “All rise!”
Jeremy stood along with the rest of the room as Judge Zamora entered from his chambers.
“Good afternoon, folks, please be seated,” the judge said calmly. “Does counsel have any matters to discuss before we get started?”
Geoff and Linda shook their heads.
“Okay. The verdict has been submitted by the jury. I’ll read the verdict first—I’ve not seen it yet—and then will briefly ensure some clerical matters are in place before announcing it.
“I want to address everyone in the courtroom first. Regardless of the outcome of this verdict, I need you to remain silent as I read through this information. Keep in mind, there are dozens of counts against the defendant, and a verdict will be given to each count. If you feel you can’t contain your emotions, please exit the courtroom quietly.
“Now let’s bring in the jury.” Judge Zamora gestured to the door they would enter from and the bailiff crossed the room to open it.
The jurors took their usual slow stride into the jury box, stone-faced. When the final juror sat, Judge Zamora turned to address them.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I want to thank you for your service during this long and emotional trial. Your time and dedication are deeply appreciated by the state and county. Is your verdict ready for me to review?”
Ms. Serious stood from her position in the first seat, closest to the judge. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“And you have reached a unanimous decision as a group and have submitted that verdict to Mr. Linton?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Very well, thank you for following procedure. Ms. Matthis, do you have the verdict forms ready?” he asked the courtroom clerk seated in front of the bench.
“Yes, Your Honor.” She stood with a manila envelope in her grip.
My fate is in that envelope. The world slowed as Jeremy watched Judge Zamora pull a small stack of papers out of the envelope. His mind and body froze, unable to bear the intensity of the situation.
The judge flipped through the stack of papers, running a finger down each page until he found the bit of information he needed.
Each turn of the page dragged in slow motion before the judge spoke directly to Jeremy.
“Will the defendant please stand for the reading of the verdict?”
Jeremy rose, the eyes of the world glued to him.
“Mr. Heston, as a reminder I will read one of three possible verdicts for each of the charges brought against you: guilty, not guilty, or not guilty by reason of insanity. Now let’s begin.”
Judge Zamora hesitated as he organized the stack of verdicts. The silence hung in the room as Jeremy’s arms started to tremble. The judge cleared his throat before unleashing Jeremy’s destiny.
“For the first count of murder in the first degree of Shelly Williams, the jury finds the defendant not guilty by reason of insanity.”
Gasps echoed across the courtroom, and someone shrieked. Jeremy could hear every single sound in the room, and the gasp made his heart race as he realized what the judge had just said.
“For the second count of murder in the first degree of Mark Fernandez, the jury finds the defendant not guilty by reason of insanity.”
More murmurs in the crowd, along with people sighing and groaning in disgust.
“For the third co
unt of murder in the first degree of Sylvia Jones, the jury finds the defendant not guilty by reason of insanity.”
Sylvia.
She didn’t die in vain after all. Jeremy would finally get to proceed with his experiment and make sure the lives lost were an integral part of changing the world. He had seen Sylvia’s son sitting in the audience and wanted nothing more than to apologize for taking such a great mother away from him. He wished he could make him understand that there was a silent killer spreading across the country—mental illness—which could now be stopped.
The judge continued reading down the list of charges for first-degree murder, followed by the not guilty by reason of insanity verdict. Each name weighed down on Jeremy, hearing them listed for what would hopefully be the final time. He could hear a couple of people in the audience sobbing.
Each count and verdict that Judge Zamora read helped the reality settle in for Jeremy. He was not getting lethal injection; he was not spending the rest of his life in prison. He was going to a mental institution, where doctors with more knowledge than he had would try to treat his fake mental illness.
I actually did it. I’m going to change the world.
37
Chapter 37
Friday, November 17, 2017
Outside the courthouse, Connor Chappell walked to his car, tears pouring down his face. His brother, Charlie, had been killed in the Open Hands office shooting, but apparently no one on the jury gave a shit about his life or any of the other lives taken that day. They sympathized with the monster and his bullshit mental illness.
Connor had watched that monster every day on TV during the trial. He watched his brother’s killer sit through all the graphic testimony, never showing a single sign of remorse—yet now he would avoid jail time and be coddled at a mental hospital, and then one day set free.
Connor wished he knew which cars in the lot belonged to the jurors, because he would have loved to bash in their windows and set them on fire.
“Fuck!” he yelled, and it echoed back to him in the empty parking lot. Everyone was still in the courtroom, as the judge wrapped up the final instructions and next steps. He couldn’t sit in that room anymore; he wanted to get as far from it as possible. Media vans lined up at the front of the courthouse, mobs of press fighting their way inside for a chance to interview survivors and family members of the deceased.
They were lucky he was able to slip out unnoticed. He would have told them to take their stupid questions and shove them up their asses.
He arrived at his car too angry to drive, body shaking in rage. He pictured his brother lying lifeless on the office floor, blood oozing out of the bullet wound on his forehead. His brother had a bright future ahead, with a beautiful fiancée. Now none of it would happen.
“But Jeremy fucking Heston gets to live the rest of his shitty life.”
Connor kicked the driver-side door, and punched the hood, then screamed in pain, echoing across the parking lot.
“Don’t worry, Charlie,” he said, climbing into the driver’s seat, his knuckles already swelling. “You’re not going out like this. I’m gonna kill that piece of shit if it’s the last thing I do.”
* * *
Inside the courtroom, the people in the gallery erupted after the verdict reading was complete, causing Judge Zamora to furiously bang his gavel. Some shouted in the direction of Jeremy and his parents, others broke down into tears, defeated by the verdict. Jeremy could feel the looks of disgust being thrown his way as he remained standing. His parents sat in the front row as they had the entire trial, and he turned his head just enough to see his mom out of the corner of his eye. He saw her shoulders convulsing as she hid her face behind her hands, his father’s arm slung over her shoulders.
I’m sorry, Mom and Dad. This trial must have been overwhelming.
At this moment all he could do was wish the judge would finish with his business. He wanted to be alone so he could celebrate in private.
It worked. My plan actually worked. I’m going to a mental institute where I can continue my work! Jeremy felt the urge to scream, cry, and laugh all at the same time. He fought to keep the bomb of emotions from exploding, even though it wouldn’t have mattered at this point.
Judge Zamora finally fell silent, stacking the verdict papers into a neat pile. Jeremy caught Ms. Serious looking at him; she turned her face when he briefly locked eyes with her.
“Mr. Heston, you may be seated,” Judge Zamora said.
Linda stared at the judge, and Jeremy could see the slightest smirk at the corner of her mouth. Her career had just changed forever; she had done the impossible.
“Mr. Heston, a jury of your peers has found you not guilty by reason of insanity. You’ll be moved to the Rocky Mountain Mental Health Institute in Pueblo, Colorado. You’ll remain there and undergo mental health examinations until a panel of their staff can unanimously agree that you’re no longer a threat to yourself or society.
“You will be taken there next week. Until then, you’ll remain in custody. I’ll enforce extra security for the remainder of the week and during the transfer to Pueblo, at which point you’ll be in the hands of the hospital.”
The judge turned his attention to the jury and informed them they could now speak of the trial, including to the press waiting outside the courthouse. He also offered the jurors the chance to wait back in their room while the crowd outside died down. They would have security to guide them to their cars.
Jeremy leaned forward to see the district attorney across the aisle. His pale face now looked ghostlike. Jeremy savored seeing the shame spreading through the blond prick’s body.
“And that concludes this trial. Thank you to everyone for your hard work. Court is adjourned.”
At the final bang of the gavel the crowd burst out, crying and yelling.
“You’ll get your justice in hell!” someone shouted. The bailiff pushed his way into the mob of people and escorted a middle-age woman out of the courtroom. Jeremy saw none of this as he stared forward. He wanted to see his parents, but there was no way he was going to turn around and face all the hate he could feel behind him.
“We did it,” Linda said, patting Jeremy on the arm. Her smirk had grown into a full-on smile.
“You did it,” Jeremy said. “I just sat here.”
Linda nodded, accepting the compliment.
“So what now?” Jeremy asked. “Do we say good-bye?”
“Yes. Our work here is done. I’ll be checking in with you from time to time at the hospital. I’ll make sure you’re being treated right. I assume your parents will also come see you there.”
“How long until you think I have a chance of getting released from the hospital?”
Linda paused and frowned. “It will be a very long time, if ever. The soonest they’ll probably consider it is maybe twenty-five years from now. At that point…it’s hard to say. You’ll always be deemed a threat to society.”
“Doesn’t sound much different from prison.”
“It’s very different from prison. You’ll probably start in some sort of solitary confinement, but as long as you show them that you’re no longer violent, you’ll be able to mix in with the other patients in no time. On top of that, you’ll have much better food, free time to do whatever you want on campus, and of course, outdoors time.”
Linda made it sound like he was going to a five-star resort instead of the nuthouse.
“I think it’s time for you to head back,” she said as Jeremy’s escorting officer approached them.
“Thanks again,” Jeremy said. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
Linda shook her head. “It was my pleasure. I hope you get the treatment you need.”
Her words sounded fake and forced. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was disgusted with herself for getting him off on insanity. But she had a job to do, and her future now had every possibility open to her, thanks to the unlikely victory.
“Bye, Linda.”
* *
*
Through the initial planning of his experiment, it had felt like he’d never get to this point. Now the hardest part was over. The world would be forever changed by his verdict. A mass murderer was actually walking “free” by avoiding prison. Jeremy could feel the mental health community collectively, and silently, rejoicing in his victory. Instead of being a footnote in a long history of gun violence, his name would show as the ever important turning point in American society where mentally ill people received fair treatment from the justice system. He fought the odds, blasted through the glass ceiling of the court system, and felt he had just reached the top of Mount Everest.
Now what? he wondered.
He had planned and pulled off a meticulous mass shooting, with the precise goal of being caught and getting off on the insanity plea. He had wanted to shed light on the mental health epidemic, which seemed to be constantly swept under the rug by society.
Now that he’d done it—now what?
He hoped he would be able to write in a notebook at the Rocky Mountain Mental Health Institute. Will my writings be monitored? His doodles in a notebook would only further confirm his “insanity.” But his ultimate plan was to expose to the world what happened in the hospital, along with his journey there, in a sort of memoir.
Jeremy was led out of the courtroom, toward the back of the police car to drive him back to jail for the final time. The angry crowd had forced their way to the back exit of the courthouse where they gathered to greet the “innocent” murderer.
“Rot in hell!” a sobbing mother shouted.
The Burden (Insanity Series, Book 2) Page 17
