Dark Star: Confessions of a Rock Idol

by Creston Mapes

  Say what you want, I’m in God’s hands now…and so is my wife-to-be.

  34

  DONALD CHAMBERS HAD A small pad in his hands and a pencil behind his ear. Several guards and police officers surrounded us. We stood in a small, white holding area adjacent to courtroom B-3. The trial had recessed for lunch, but I wasn’t hungry. My family and friends were not permitted back here.

  Chambers gave me a review of what he learned from his friends at Miami-Dade PD. “A green Arctic Fox camper with no license plates, but matching the description of the one stolen from the Georgia couple, was spotted at a rest area off Highway 1 near Kendall, then again at Sandpiper Cove.”

  “By whom?” I asked. “Who spotted it?”

  “The first time it was reported by a family on vacation,” Chambers said. “Two teens who had been following your case closely on TV spotted the SUV and had their dad call 911. The next time, a retired gentleman saw the camper at a Winn-Dixie.”

  “Did they see Karen?”

  “No one reported seeing her,” Chambers said. “But listen to this—the camper was spotted again today at a gas station in a little town called Leisure City. This time, the convenience store owner says he saw Zane Bender, even talked with him a minute. They’re looking at store surveillance tapes now to get a positive ID.”

  “No one saw anything else? In the camper? Why didn’t these people look in the camper? They know Karen is missing, right? Everyone knows…”

  “Everett.” Chambers raised his chin and peered at me out the bottom of his eyes. “Calm down. He’s on the run, okay? They’re going to find him.”

  “It’s not him I’m worried about. Will they find Karen?” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Friend, I pray they do. But I can’t make any promises. I don’t want to mislead you. All I can say is, we’re praying. Everyone’s trying their best. And I’m here for you.”

  He started to leave.

  “Donald,” I grasped his arm, “will you update Karen’s parents on this, and Mary and Jerry?”

  “That’s where I’m headed.”

  He turned to go, but I caught his shoulder. “You’ve been a true friend,” I said, as he squeezed my arm, pushed open the wooden door, and headed back into the courtroom.

  Brian Boone was a fighter.

  I didn’t have much energy left. My mind was waning. I felt weak and sick and angry. Helpless. Yet even in this fog, even in this weariness, I recognized the fire that burned in Brian. He was fighting for my life.

  Boone had already set up the framework for his closing argument, and now it was getting interesting. Wearing a charcoal gray suit, he had everyone’s attention as he slid his tortoiseshell reading glasses across the table. It was so quiet in courtroom B-3, you could actually hear the glasses scratch across the surface of the tabletop and bump to a stop at one of his notebooks.

  He walked slowly toward Judge Sprockett. “Have you ever heard it said, ladies and gentlemen, that you should never ask a question you do not know the answer to?”

  His shiny black loafers clicked and slid across the wood floor.

  “Frank Dooley asked such a question in his closing remarks this morning. The question he asked was: Why would Endora Crystal want to hypnotize Everett Lester so he could, in turn, shoot her?”

  Boone continued to walk, using the silence to his advantage.

  “Now, the answer I’m going to pose to this question is a bit deep and highly unusual—just like this entire case has been. Remember, Judge Sprockett himself told us early on, this case was going to take us places we really didn’t want to go.”

  He shook his head. “Ladies and gentlemen, Endora Crystal developed a mounting hatred for Everett Lester in the last days, weeks, and months of her life. We’ve proven that. Endora was into the New Age and the occult; we’ve proven that. She used various behavior-altering drugs to help her hypnotize people—we’ve proven that. She was a woman who read palms and tarot cards, who claimed to know the past, predict the future, and communicate with the dead—we’ve proven that.

  “No matter what religious background you and I come from—if any—this case forces us to examine Endora’s beliefs. People have testified that she tried to convince Everett to promote her ‘gospel’ to his many fans. What was her gospel? Well, for example, it was a message vehemently opposed to the Bible’s portrait of heaven and hell.

  “Endora hated the Bible and organized religion, detested it. Instead, she promoted a different afterlife, one in which every person would ‘live again’ in some mysterious dream world she labeled the ‘Other Side.’ Now hear this, Endora cared so deeply for this message that it alone, I believe, is what drove her to remain so close to Everett Lester.

  “Endora used Everett, ladies and gentlemen, to spread her gospel. And yes, for a long time, he was so strung out on drugs and alcohol that he did just that. We don’t deny that for a minute. But what Endora did not plan on in those early days was the total transformation Everett Lester would undergo when he became a Christian. And that, folks, is when Endora began to turn on Everett.

  “Remember Pamela McCracken’s words? She overheard Endora warn Everett not to turn on her. ‘You do not want me against you!’ were Endora’s words.”

  Dooley’s arms crossed, and I could hear him groan from twenty feet away.

  Boone allowed time for his words to soak in. “We’ve heard it testified clearly in this courtroom that Endora feared and cursed the day when Everett would become a Christian. Why? Because she had supposedly learned through her psychic powers that he would lead thousands upon thousands of his DeathStroke fans to faith in God. Twila Yonder herself told you that Endora became angry when she was led to believe that Everett would become, in her words, a ‘religious zealot.’”

  Boone turned and walked slowly toward me, playing the silence.

  “Let me ask you a question, a question, unlike Frank Dooley’s, to which I do have an answer. Why do you think Endora hypnotized Everett in the middle of a conversation at The Groove recording studio? Why would she do that? Why did she want to try to impose her will over him and make him smash that rock waterfall? The answer is, she was testing her powers. She was seeing if she really could hypnotize my client and make him do things he had no intention of doing in his right mind!”

  The audience gasped and Dooley shook his head in disgust.

  “Folks,” Boone said, “this is a lady—a witch of sorts—who made a gun fly into the ocean. That’s a fact. She hypnotized Ricky Crazee, and he kicked a powerful drug habit. She made drinking glasses shatter and the hands on clocks spin from across rooms. This is no average case. We’ve got to get into this woman’s mind and think like she did.”

  Boone was animated now.

  “Why did she make up a story to her close friend Twila Yonder about having a romantic affair with Everett? You know as well as I do that this was only a story. Why? Why did she make that up?” He eyed each juror. “Because Endora Crystal was planning her own death and the framing of my client for it!”

  Chills swept over my body as the crowd erupted.

  Dooley’s assistants gathered around him like an offensive huddle.

  Boone raised his voice and prodded forward. “Endora’s goal in life was to make sure Everett Lester never became a Christian; that’s the bottom line. And when he did, she made the stark decision that she would give her very life to put him away—in prison or off to the electric chair. She was out to ruin his Christian name, to yoke him with a murder rap he did not deserve.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Endora Crystal was evil to the core. And if you’re going to make the right decision in this case, you must get into her wicked mind and see her death for what it really was: suicide with the assistance of an innocent man!”

  Boone glared at Dooley and took a deep breath as if to pace himself. “Do you understand what she did? Under her bewitching influence, she loaded Everett up with mind-altering, psychotropic drugs—proven to be in his bloodstream at the time of her death. Once Everet
t was under the influence, Endora used her psychic powers to hypnotize him. Then she sacrificed herself in order to squelch, silence, and ruin Everett Lester’s Christian conversion. But it backfired, didn’t it? What Endora intended for evil, God is using for good!

  “Make it clear.” Boone stood next to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “If you are going to convict this man of murder in the first degree—which is altogether different from second-degree murder, manslaughter, or aggravated assault—you must do so knowing without any doubt that he is guilty of premeditated—that is, planned…deliberate…intended to…set-out-to-do-it…cold-blooded—murder. Ladies and gentlemen, if you can do that, then by all means go ahead and do it. But I doubt there is one person in this courtroom, besides Frank Dooley, who truly believes that.”

  Judge Sprockett told the court that his goal was to get my case to the jury for deliberation by close of business today.

  There was nothing new on Karen. It would be dark soon. I chewed one of the Tums Mary gave me at the break, but it didn’t touch the constant burning sensation in my chest.

  Frank Dooley had the floor for the last time.

  I was surprised to hear him rehash much of his closing argument from this morning. That sat okay with me. Although he had attacked portions of Boone’s afternoon argument, he couldn’t seem to get around the fact that we’d basically admitted that I killed Endora but had no intention or knowledge of doing so. Boone told me during the break that Dooley must be hating himself for not pursing second-degree murder instead of first.

  “People of the jury, circumstances have arisen that you may or may not know about, which may cause you to sympathize with Everett Lester.” He looked down, shaking his head and feigning sorrow. “I sympathize as well, believe me. But listen, your remorse and my remorse cannot and must not have any influence on the decision you make here today. Do you understand?”

  He raised both hands toward the jury, drawing the attention of every eye.

  “What I want you to do is remember this…” He walked toward me, again pointing his hand at me in the shape of a gun. “Everett Lester is a man of extremes. Always extremes. We’ve been told by more than one witness that Mr. Lester threatened to kill Madam Endora Crystal. He invited her to his Miami high-rise for a séance. He was the initiator. He was the one who walked to his bedroom dresser to retrieve his loaded .45 caliber Glock. He was the one who went back in and pulled the trigger from less than five feet away, killing his innocent lover, Endora Crystal. Oh, yes…extreme!”

  Dooley walked directly toward the TV camera. “I don’t care what Endora was into; she didn’t deserve to die November 11. Listen to me, Everett Lester walked back into the bedroom after shooting Endora, returned the gun to the dresser drawer, and now sits here today thinking he’s going to get the same special treatment he’s gotten his entire life!

  “Let it stop today, people of the jury. It’s up to you to draw the line. You twelve are the ones who can tell Everett Lester today—” he turned and pointed his make-believe gun at me—“‘You have seen the end of your stardom and your special treatment, Mr. Rock Star.’ Get this sick individual off the streets, ladies and gentlemen. Do the extreme. Put this animal where he belongs. Put him to sleep.”

  Turning to the jury box at 6:40 p.m., Judge Henry Sprockett pounded his gavel. “The case of The State of Florida v. Everett Timothy Lester is now in your capable hands.” After giving them instructions, he sent the twelve-member jury toward a deliberation room forty feet down the hall from courtroom B-3.

  As reporters shouted questions, the dark-skinned juror from the far right side of the jury box walked erectly out of the courtroom, not losing eye contact with me the entire way.

  10:55 p.m.

  I sat at a large white table beneath fluorescent lights in a midsize conference room two floors up from the jury. Mary and Jerry, Boone and Gray, Karen’s parents, and a few other friends and attorneys surrounded me at the table. This would be our headquarters as long as the jury deliberated.

  Brian explained that Judge Sprockett ran a tight ship and would likely work the jury long and hard to get a verdict as soon as possible. However, Boone also pointed out that the jury might choose to review and evaluate much of the evidence in the case, which included the testimony of seventy-two witnesses and more than three hundred exhibits, including forensic reports and the infamous .45 caliber Glock semi-automatic pistol.

  While talking on his cell phone, Donald entered the room with Della. He punched the phone off and cleared his throat. “They got the surveillance tapes back from the convenience store in Leisure City,” he announced, as Jacob and I scrambled to our feet. “It was definitely Zane Bender.”

  “Was Karen with him?” Jacob asked.

  “The store owner didn’t see Karen.”

  Sarah sighed. Mary’s hands covered her mouth.

  “What did Zaney say…to the owner?” I asked.

  Chambers frowned. “Said what a beautiful day it was to be free.”

  “That’s it?” I asked. “What was he buying?”

  “Chewing tobacco and gas for the camper. He was in and out in about seven minutes.”

  “Any more sightings?” Jacob asked.

  “Police are looking into what may be several more solid tips. But they’re getting a lot of calls—hundreds. Many are either pranks or mistaken identities. They’ve got a lot to sort through.”

  “Is there anything else we can do?” Gray asked.

  “No,” said Chambers. “You can trust me, though, when I tell you Miami PD is going all out on this thing.”

  “What about the campsites?” Sarah asked sheepishly through red eyes.

  “They’re busy checking those now, ma’am.”

  “I’ve never felt so helpless.” Mary put an arm around Sarah.

  I walked back and forth behind Mary and Sarah.

  Back and forth.

  “Can we do something?” Jerry said, with his elbows on the table. “Can we hold hands and pray? Because, I feel like…that’s all we can do right now.”

  11:35 p.m.

  A tall, gray-haired bailiff with thick glasses pushed the conference room door open and ducked his head in. “Judge Sprockett told the jury to retreat to their quarters for the night. They’ve been asked to continue deliberating at eight sharp tomorrow morning. Mr. Lester, you will be escorted back to the detention center now. Officers are out here waiting for you.”

  3:22 a.m.

  Sleep wouldn’t come.

  An occasional wicked laugh rang out from the dark.

  I floundered, wide-eyed.

  Every now and then, a frightening scream pierced the darkness.

  The pending verdict…Karen’s kidnapping—they’ve left me beaten. Alone. Utterly overwhelmed.

  It’s hot…stifling in here.

  And no way out.

  I was suffocating in the same desperation Donald Chambers had found me in days ago.

  The floor was cold and hard on my knees.

  All I could do—literally all I had the strength or presence of mind to do—was scan the small brown Bible that I clutched just inches from my eyes.

  Troubles surround me—too many to count!

  They pile up so high I can’t see my way out.

  They are more numerous than the hairs on my head.

  I have lost all my courage.

  Please, Lord, rescue me!

  Come quickly, Lord, and help…

  Periodically, words poured out of me: Dear God, this is all in Your hands. Comfort Karen now. Protect her. Please…bring her home. Give us the chance to live together for You. Stop this evil, Lord. Stop it!

  Then I found my way back to the page…

  May those who try to destroy me be humiliated and put to shame. May those who take delight in my trouble be turned back in disgrace. Do not delay, O my God…

  We had two pots of coffee brewing in the conference room, both caffeinated. The jury had been back in session for an hour and a half. In order to wast
e some time, I got the idea that Jerry should call his sister, Claudia, in Xenia to find out how Olivia was doing. Jerry talked for a while, then handed the phone to me.

  Claudia hesitantly asked my feelings about the upcoming verdict. It was awkward.

  “I have no idea.” I paced. “There’s all kinds of speculation, but I won’t play that game. I don’t know how it’s going to come out… How’s Olivia?”

  “We’ve moved her hospital bed to her bedroom. Her condition hasn’t changed,” Claudia said. “She is fed through a clear plastic tube that attaches to her navel. She stares at the TV most of the day or at the seashell mobile you got her. Sometimes she gazes at the greeting cards taped to her wall or at the birds that come to feast on the bird feeder that’s suction-cupped to the outside of her window.”

  “Do you care for her alone?”

  “No. We have a nurse on duty twelve hours a day. She helps change her, feed her, turn her, and hoist her onto her exercise board for physical therapy. Occasionally Olivia laughs or cries for no apparent reason.”

  Claudia seemed relieved to tell me all of this.

  Her husband was at work. Claudia said he now worked overtime almost every day at the fiberglass factory near their home. He was struggling with depression.

  Claudia was adjusting to life with a comatose daughter. But remarkably, she had forgiven me. And she began going to a local church, where she was finding friends and newfound peace.

  “We’ve watched every bit of the trial, Everett. Olivia seems fascinated by it. We’ll be keeping our fingers crossed.”

  Police spotted the dark green Arctic Fox camper again two hours ago. It was leaving a campground in Florida City, a small town near Homestead, adjacent to the enormous Everglades National Park.

  Karen’s dad found out that Miami-Dade police pursued the camper for three miles but lost it when a drawbridge went up and blocked them off. Whether Karen was in the camper or not was unknown.