by Mitch Goth
Several days later, Kellen had made her way to Texas, and now sat idly in her car outside the Texan prison that held the mysteriously helpful serial killer. The building was just as foreboding as any other maximum security prison she had seen across her tenure with the FBI. Tall, razor wire fences obstructed the view of a massive, brick and cement complex that was almost devoid of windows. The windows the building sported were nothing more than small slits in the otherwise impenetrable fortress, not much wider than the average person’s wrist.
Although she had been apprehensive about the meeting before today, Kellen hadn’t been scared Now, as she sat in her car and looked at this structure used to contain Ezra Grazer, Kellen could feel the realness of the moment setting in. Somewhere in that monstrosity filled with monstrosities was the person she had traveled all the way to Texas to see. But the question still lingered in her mind if she wanted to see him at all.
Kellen looked away from the building for a moment and stared down at her cell phone, which she clutched tightly in her hand. On its screen was the number for Remi. She had debated calling her ever since the prison came into view. But she continued to fight the urge to do so. She could do this on her own, she was sure she could.
After several moments of looking down at the phone, her mind blank, Kellen took a gauge of the time. Her meeting was already two minutes behind her. Without another moment of thought, she got out of the car and started towards the prison gates. Fear and reluctance still filled her mind, more and more with every step, but she kept going. Kellen needed to do this. To put another killer behind razor wire fences like these, she needed to do this.
As she approached the gate, two figures came out of a small door on a guard tower beside the main entrance. One man was a pudgy middle-aged fellow dressed in blue with a cluttered belt, obviously a guard. The other man, however, was a well-aged, tall drink of water, dressed in a very expensive looking suit, with a well-done haircut and a stoic posture to match. She wasn’t sure what to think of the second man.
“Welcome to the Texas Maximum Security Penitentiary,” the guard welcomed with an outstretched hand as Kellen approached.
She shook his hand once she’d gotten close enough. “Nice to meet you,” she said quietly before turning to the other man. Kellen said nothing to him, he looked like the kind of man who always liked speaking first in conversations.
“I’m William Carlton,” the well-dressed man greeted her, but never gave out a hand to shake.
“What is your job here, Mr. Carlton?” Kellen asked forwardly.
“I’m a lawyer. I worked the prosecution for Mr. Grazer’s case. I know everything about him and the crimes he committed. The prison wanted me here to help explain things to you.”
“Well take me to him.” Kellen walked towards the door the other two had just came through, with the guard holding it open for her. “You can explain while we walk. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to be.”
“Fair enough,” Carlton agreed, catching up to her.
The trio continued through the guard tower, only to be spat out the other direction and inside the gates of the prison. As they walked, Carlton talked specifics about his prosecution for the case, not a topic that interested Kellen in any way. Instead she focused on her surroundings.
This prison was like most others of its kind. The fences were tall, the towers were taller, and guards could be seen in every direction. Most of them carried large, deadly weapons. But despite the prison’s lack of uniqueness, she felt different as she strode through it. Perhaps it was the situation at hand, and the fact that she was here to see someone that was helpful, rather than just another murderer that had been put away. She feared for her safety, for her all over security. Despite all the precautions, Kellen figured she wouldn’t feel safe anywhere in the compound.
Once they reached the front door of the prison, the guard swiped a card he had on him, the door let out a loud buzz, and the guard let them in. The security checkpoint, despite Kellen’s federal jurisdiction, was something she couldn’t escape. All the while, Carlton kept droning on about his case against Ezra. She didn’t want to hear about his case, she wanted to hear about him. Her patience was wearing thin, but she figured she ought to wait it out for a few moments longer to see if her lack of communication would be enough of a hint. It wasn’t.
By the time they’d gotten through security and were working their way through the innards of the prison, Kellen had finally had it. She stopped and turned to Carlton, still going on and on about the days in court. A single stern gaze from her quieted him down.
“The prison brought you here to fill me in, right?”
“Right.” He nodded.
“Well, I don’t give a shit about your prosecution strategy. What I care about is who this person is, not who you are. So I suggest you say things I want to hear, or just stop speaking all together.”
“Damn,” the guard quipped. “Come on, the meeting room is still a ways off.” He led them further down the hall.
Kellen always seemed to be that headstrong and powerful when it came to working in the field. She just wished that would translate into her office work. Unfortunately it never did, and she never figured out why. Perhaps it was the high-risk situations she found herself in while in the field, or maybe it was the people she came in contact with. But no matter what the cause, Kellen could tell that while she was out in the field, she was a stronger person. To her, that was a good thing.
Even now, as she strode through a maximum-security prison, she saw prisoners ogling her and staring through bulletproof glass as she walked. She paid them no mind. They couldn’t bother her. No one was able to bother her. Although, she wasn’t sure if that was true. Ezra Grazer could be just the person to shake her confidence.
“Okay.” Carlton fumbled with his words. “Ezra Grazer killed twenty-seven people over the course of several years in Dallas. Or, at least that’s our estimation of the number. Born in New York City, raised there, most of his family lives there.”
“Tell me something new, please,” Kellen brushed off this information.
“Well, were you aware that before he spent his time killing people for sport he was an Army Ranger?”
“I didn’t.” Kellen smiled. She was glad this tall, powerful-looking man now had something of interest to say.
“He was a Ranger for four years, beginning at the onset of the Iraq War. Throughout that time he gained several awards, including a bronze star. After his tour overseas ended, he came back here and became a rather successful MMA fighter.”
“Jesus Christ.” Kellen was overtaken by this. She pictured someone deadly but not quite to that extent. “So he’s a lethal weapon?”
“The deadliest in this prison, I’m confident to say.”
“I’ll vouch for that,” the guard said. “I watched the guy break another man’s legs without getting out of his seat.”
Kellen had apprehensions bubbling up inside her. “You don’t say?”
“But don’t worry about that,” the guard assured. “The man doesn’t hurt anyone who doesn’t antagonize him. Grazer’s only problems in here came from when people came after him, either with fists, or shanks, or a whole lotta shanks. He came out without a bruise every time.”
“Either way, his ability to fight and kill should not be your worry,” Carlton explained. “It’s his mind that should worry you.”
“Why’s that?” Kellen inquired.
“After all the work my firm and I did to build a solid case, we didn’t even come close to the death penalty.” Carlton went back to court talk.
“Who was representing him?”
“He was. Son of a bitch represented himself. He wiped the floor with us. It was like he was able to tell what the jury wanted to hear, and in what context. He fed them everything he had, and they ate it up like starved dogs. The guy knew everything he wasn’t supposed to know, all the law tips and tricks, like he was just waiting to pull them out." Carlto
n paused and grew a hateful grimace. “We had a strong closing argument. Something we were sure would sway the jury.”
“What happened?”
“He declined to give one."
“Holy shit.” Kellen snickered. She was aware what that meant. Law states that if one party declines their right to give a closing argument, neither party can give one.
“Like I said, he knew everything we never expected him to.”
“So why didn’t he go free? It sounds like he did a good enough job.”
“That’s the funny part.” Carlton grew a subtle smile. “After the sentence was passed down, twenty five to life, I went and saw him. He said that he could’ve gotten off completely if he wanted to, and I believed him. He laid out his whole strategy, and he would’ve won it. But he said that twenty-seven souls was rather excessive. He claimed he was never one to show off many of his skills when it didn’t call for it.”
“This guy is either a genius or insane.” Kellen let out another laugh, this one made up of pure disbelief.
“Ma’am, let me tell you something.” Carlton shook his head. “In all my years doing what I do, Ezra Grazer is the only man I have ever met that has the capacity and the willingness to be both.”
6
