Breaking Brooklyn
Page 17
Just a little :-)
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/11/2014 at 10:54 pm:
You need to get off Tinder!
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/11/2014 at 10:55 pm:
Why do you care!
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/11/2014 at 10:56 pm:
Because you are my friend!
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/11/2014 at 10:59 pm:
I started thinking last night... This is/has always been a mostly one-sided friendship. I love ya, but you are there when you need something. You are self-centered and self-serving. You RARELY text just to ask "how are you"...
You say you are worried about others using me, but you are the one who uses me the most. You tell me not to cheat on Jack but yet you fucked me! YOU ARE A FUCKING HYPOCRITE!!!
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/11/2014 at 11:02 pm:
I never used you. I have always been upfront with you.
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/11/2014 at 11:03 pm:
You are the biggest mind fuck I ever met!
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/11/2014 at 11:04 pm:
You're drunk! I'm done talking about this.
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/11/2014 at 11:05 pm:
Fuck you!
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/12/2014 at 9:08 am:
Tyler, I'm so sorry! I just saw our conversation from last night. I didn’t mean what I said. I was drunk and hurt.
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/12/2014 at 9:10 am:
Brooke, I'm sorry you are going through this stuff with Jack. I really am. I'm also very worried about you.
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/12/2014 at 9:11 am:
I'm not in a good place right now. I need help.
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/12/2014 at 9:13 am:
Maybe you need to go on a mission trip. That's what I do when I need to rehabilitate my soul.
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/12/2014 at 9:14 am:
Yes! We should go on one together!
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/12/2014 at 9:15 am:
Let me look into it for you.
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/12/2014 at 9:17 am:
Awesome! I don't want to lose you as a friend. Let’s just forget about what happened between us last night.
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/12/2014 at 9:18 am:
Okay
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/17/2014 at 10:20 am:
I checked into mission trips and the good ones are expensive. You don't want to go on a cheap one your first time.
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/17/2014 at 10:21 am:
How much?
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/17/2014 at 10:22 am:
The one to South African is $7,000
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/17/2014 at 10:23 am:
Wow! That is expensive.
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/17/2014 at 10:25 am:
It covers airfare, food, lodging, and materials to build homes. Most people raise the money through sponsors at their church. That's how I did it.
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/17/2014 at 10:26 am:
I don't go to church :-(
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/17/2014 at 10:27 am:
Maybe that's where you should start :-)
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/20/2014 at 11:28 pm:
I officially filed for divorce.
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 10/20/2014 at 11:29 pm:
What?!
Facebook Message from Brooklyn Page Napier 10/20/2014 at 11:30 pm:
I need to see you.
Facebook Message from Tyler Ward 9/20/2014 10/20/2014 at 11:31 pm:
Okay
Chapter thirty-two
“I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.”
~Ned Vizzini
Jack Napier – Day 60
It hasn’t been a good morning for me. Asleep, I have been bombarded with nightmares. Awake, I feel nothing but doubt, fear, and anxiety. I’m restless like a caged bird that flutters its wings in hopes of freeing itself.
Harleen has sensed my mood. I can tell she desperately wants to help me find the truth. This has caused her to push me out of my comfort zone by asking questions about the night my family was murdered.
When she came to see me this morning she skipped the small talk and went right into her questioning.
"Jack I read your journals. I have to say it's not what I was expecting. In fact, some of it was very disturbing."
"What did you expect?" I replied.
"You have such an innocent smile. I just can't imagine you doing some of the things you wrote about."
"Well, when life rapes you sometimes all you can do is smile back," I mumbled.
"See that's disturbing, Jack."
"You’re misunderstanding me, I'm just saying that some things are out of our control. So why fight it?"
"Rape is a disturbing analogy, Jack!"
"I was making a point and obviously it worked!"
"I worry about you. There's a very dark side to you." Harleen murmured.
"Harleen, we all have a dark side to us. Some of us embrace it while others run from it. I choose to embrace it."
"You have to be careful, Jack."
"I know I'm fucked up but I'm not a bad person. I'm just a good person that had bad stuff happen to me."
Harleen gazed at me as her eyes swelled. She then quickly changed the subject.
“Jack, I would like to talk to you about what happened the night your family was—”
I quickly interrupted, “Do the police think I killed my family?”
Catching Harleen off guard, she was silent. I don’t think she was expecting me to ask that question.
Making it even more awkward I continued, “Do you think I killed my family?”
I could tell she was unsure. She gave me the textbook answer I was expecting.
“Jack, it doesn’t matter what I think. It only matters what the police can prove. They have found no evidence that anyone else was in the house and statistically most people who are murdered in their own home are killed by someone who is close to them.
The only thing that prevents them from charging you with murders is the fact they found you tied to a chair when they arrived at the house," she added.
"I told you, I remembered being tied to the chair and I have been having flashbacks of Brooke being shot. Then it's all a blank. I don’t know why I can’t remember!" I pleaded.
I began punching myself in the head, over and over again.
Harleen grabbed my arm.
“Jack, you need to keep it together. We are so close to knowing what really happened. I need to ask you some tough questions to see if we can unlock your memory. You may not like what we uncover, but it will be the truth. Is that okay?” She said gazing into my eyes. Willing me to tell the truth.
“Yes.” I replied.
“The police interviewed your sister-in-law. She is ready to testify that your were threatening Brooke. She told the police that Brooke said you lost your temper, that she was afraid of you. Is this true, Jack?”
"She cheated on me and now she has become a slut. I don't want my boys to see the things I saw growing up. So, of course I lost my temper but Brooke wasn’t afraid of me. She got off on pushing my buttons and messing with my mind."
“Can you tell me about the problems Brooke and you had when you were married?”
“Brooke had become distant to me. I don’t know why. At first, I thought she was having an affair. I confronted her about it and she denied it." I stopped and swallowed hard then continued.
"I begged her to
tell me what had changed between us. She had a litany of excuses, like how I never held her hand anymore, how she wanted to work, but I wanted her to care for our children. When I told her I thought she cared more about teaching other people’s kids than our own, she shouted that I was not her jailer. No, I wasn’t, I just wanted our kids to have a mother at home, something I always dreamed of and never had." I explained.
"Her complaints went from silly to crazy. Sometimes she completely lost it. She would tell me that my horrible childhood had followed me into our married life. She said I had become cold and controlling. I know she didn’t mean it.”
"Was there more, Jack?” Harleen prodded.
“Okay. All right, she cheated on me. Is that what you want to hear? She said she was depression and I was the reason. When I pressed her…” I stopped, looked down, took a deep breath, and then blew it out. “Brooke told me she was no longer ‘in love’ with me; what I heard was she no longer loved me. She tried to tell me how you can love someone, but not be ‘in love’ with them. I told her that was bullshit. You either love someone or you don’t.
All the loneliness I felt as a child came rushing back to me like a disease. I couldn't eat or sleep for weeks. I thought about my mother and how she too struggled to love me. Maybe I am unlovable."
My voice cracked with emotion. I began sobbing, so much I couldn’t draw in enough breath to get my words out. It took me a moment to get myself together.
“Brooke asked what I wanted from her. I told her I wanted her to notice when I wasn’t around. To think of me when she woke in the morning and remember me as she fell asleep at night. I wanted to be the air that filled her lungs, the color that brightened her world. Most of all I wanted to feel her love inside my bruised and beaten heart."
The warmth I once saw in Harleen's eyes turned cold. She glared at me.
"Jack, let’s cut the bullshit! We both know you killed your family!"
"What?!" I yelled, completely shocked by Harleen's tone.
"There's no other explanation. What I want to know is how you tied yourself to the chair?"
"I DIDN'T KILL MY FAMILY! "
Harleen moved her hand and gripped the bottom of her chin. Her cinnamon eyes wanted the truth.
"Brooke divorced you and took your kids from you. Everything you worked so hard to build collapsed in on itself. So, you snapped. You killed your wife then your children."
I was so angry I lost it. Getting up in Harleen's face, I yelled, "I DIDN'T KILL MY FAMILY!"
I knew I was on dangerous ground. Quickly calming myself down, I asked, "Am I being charged with murdering my family?"
Harleen glared at me. See could see the truth in my eyes. She then leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't a "I feel your pain" kiss either. It was an "I have wanted to kiss you ever since the day we met" kiss.
"Jack, they are going to release you from the hospital. I don't know what will happen next but you need to continue to get help. There is a lot of pain pent up in you that needs to work its way out in therapy. Otherwise it will release itself in another way, a not so good way. I am very concerned about you."
"What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right?" I whispered.
That is my last memory of Harleen.
EPILOGUE
Surrounded by flames I sit with the barrel of the pistol in my mouth, its metallic shaft resting on my tongue. I want to feel what it’s like to kill myself.
Removing the cold steel from my lips, I pull out three photos and a piece of paper from my back pocket. The first photo is of Brooke and I sitting on the couch embracing each other. We were in college. Her head was in my lap and you could see the love we had for each other in our eyes. The picture becomes blurry as my eyes turn into a swimming pool of lost memories.
The next picture is of Sawyer at his baptism. With his bottom and legs exposed, Father Ted is baptizing him. And lastly there is a family picture with Mickey Mouse at Disney Land. It was the last time we were together as a family before Brooke filed for divorce. The expressions on my boys’ faces was priceless. Like a dream. They were oblivious to reality, a state of mind I could only wish for.
I then unfolded my final divorce decree, my eyes focusing on the signature date. May 31, 2015, our wedding anniversary. Exactly thirteen years. It was now sixty days after Brooke filed for divorce. In Indiana there is a statutory waiting period for of sixty days before a divorce can be finalized. They do this to slow down the process, to make you really think about your decision. All it really does is prolong the pain.
This provoked me to relive my last memory of Brooke. A memory I wanted to make disappear.
I am sitting in a chair with my arms tied behind my back and my legs strapped to its front legs. Brooke is standing in front of me. Her knees are shaking and she is pointing a handgun at my head. She gulps for air as she cries historically.
"Y-Y-You did this to me!" She starts then stops, interrupted by her need to breath. Mascara is oozing down her cheeks. Her eyes are puffy with dark red circles around them. "I was never good enough for you! You killed any self-esteem I ever had."
Taking the handle of the pistol she lightly taps the side of her head as she bites down on her bottom lip.
"I know about Tyler!" I shout as the image of him with and Brooke burn a hole in me.
"So what! You pushed me away, what do you expect!"
I want to hurt him.
"I don't love you Jack! I never loved you!"
My voice is paralyzed. My already broken heart shatters. I gaze at Brooke, bagging her to shoot me.
"I want out of this fucking hell! I want my kids out of this fucking hell!!!" she screams.
"What did you do Brooke? Please don't tell me you ..." I whisper.
"I did what was best for them! They belong with me!"
My body collapses in on itself. I'm sitting but I can feel my legs losing their strength. I become light headed.
Glaring at Brooke I yell, "NO!!!"
BANG!
Brooke drops to the floor in front of me. I blackout.
The sound of Riley cowering by my side brings me back to reality. She is scared.
I know I should hate Brooke for what she did but I still love her. I cannot allow the world to know the truth. I must protect her memory.
I can hear the sound of fire trucks as I point my pistol at Riley. My eye sockets become a sea of emotion. My heart sinks in my chest as I pull the trigger.
My ears are ringing from the gun shot. I get up and walk over to the mirror that is now shattered into little pieces like a spider web. I look at my distorted reflection that is blurred by smeared blood. For a split second I see the little boy I once was, a good boy. I am sad to see him go.
My veins become cold as my heart begins to rot. I can hear a tapping sound in my head. I beg it to stop but it won't. I am overcome with numbness. I no longer want to know what it feels like to kill myself. Instead I want to know what it feels like to kill someone else.
Grabbing a piece of the broken mirror I put it to my cheek. I press hard until I see blood. Then, I slice down to the corner of my mouth exposing my flesh. I then stuck the piece of mirror into the other side of my mouth and do the same.
Throwing the blood stained piece of mirror on the floor, I wipe my mouth smearing blood across my face. I look at the open window at the back of the room that is now my means of escape.
CONFIDENTIAL PHYCHOLOGICAL REPORT
NAME:
Jack Napier
BIRTHDATE:
11/14/1978
ADDRESS:
555 Dartmouth Ct.
AGE:
41
Indpls, IN 46260
PHONE:
555-555-5555
EXAMINER
Amanda White
ASSESSMENT
Jack Napier 06/16/2020
I identify Jack Napier as a psychopath. My file review assessment using the Psychopathy Checklist-Revised (PCL-R) places him in the 91st percentile of offenders. The score on on
e factor (selfish, callous, and remorseless use of others) put him in the top 1 percent of inmates. Clearly, this score more than exceeds the cutoff for psychopathy. The instrumental nature of the violent acts Jack committed is clear. I believe that Jack waited for and, likely, fantasized about the killings. In his mind, these callous acts avenged all of the perceived wrongs done to him as a child.
I know of Jack's deviance, level of psychopathy, and fantasy about killing because of observations I made while evaluating him and reading through his journals.
I feel Jack also suffers from Antisocial Personality Disorder, ASPD. Over the course of my assessment Jack has displayed a pattern of maladaptive, impulsive, and aggressive behavior. When pushed to conform he often becomes violent.
Jack escapes into his fantasies when under duress, often losing his grip on reality. For example, during our interviews he would refer to me as Harleen and have conversations with me that made absolutely no sense. His journals were a random collection of what I suspect were random memories and fantasies. There were even fictional Facebook conversation between Jack's deceased wife and someone she was having an affair with. Jack is clearly delusional.
Several years ago Jack's wife and children were murdered right in front of Jack who was tied to a chair. The killers were never found. Because of this and the fact that Jack was sexually abused as a child, I believe Jack sufferers from Post Traumatic Distress Disorder. This may have triggered his psychopathy.
Because Jack was molested as a child (victims often repeat the acts of their violator) we searched his home expecting to find a cache of sexually explicit photos of children, initially we did not. Then I walked over to the closet, reached up above the opening, and tapped on the paneling inside the closet. After a piece came loose, I reached in and extracted a package tightly wrapped in plastic. This seemed to be a treasure for Jack, one that he would not let even a tornado or flood damage. After unwrapping it, I had approximately a 2-foot pile of shrink wrap at my feet, and I held a stack of sexually explicit photos of naked men. At first I was confused, then it occurred to me these could be pictures of Jacks victims. After further research everyone one them were known and unknown pedophiles. All of whom Jack killed after his family was murdered.