I made that one of my life’s rules at that very moment my dad said that. It was wise counsel back then, when there was only the handwritten or typed word. Imagine how young people could benefit from his words now, when they can unthinkingly reveal so much with the click of a mouse or the send feature on a cell phone and share instantly with the whole world whether they actually want to or not. I have followed that advice my entire life, which is why you are now reading this. The time has come for me to make all things known, and I am now certain that these things must be read.
But not then. Not while I constructed my plan to deal with the evil in the life of Eileen and her little bastard child.
Many a night I laid awake on my bed playing out scenario after scenario, trying to come up with a plan that depended as much as possible on my own controlled actions and as little as possible on the actions of someone else. I needed to leave nothing to chance, if there was a way to avoid it, and I needed to imagine every possible unforeseeable circumstance and have my plans ‘B’ and even ‘C’ in place to deal with those circumstances should they arise.
The two major problems with developing any plan that I was able to see, involved a fact and a person. The fact was we were in a small town where not much goes unnoticed. The person that was a problem was Eileen. I didn’t want her hurt further than she had been already, and I knew that what I had to do was going to hurt her – that much was unavoidable – but I certainly didn’t want her to be physically hurt by any of my actions. So she was a problem. She still lived in her father’s home with him and her brothers.
Every plan I devised that had any chance at all of working, took place in that home. They lived in East Quincy, just a quarter of a mile off the highway, and the homes out there were scattered. There wasn’t another home within hundreds of yards in either direction. So noise wasn’t going to be a problem as long as it was not loud or sustained noise. If I carried my plan out late in the day it had the best chance of working without me being seen. But there was Eileen and the baby.
I could see only one way my plan was going to succeed and I did not at all like the fact that it was dependent to some degree on luck.
I knew that on previous summers shortly after school got out, Eileen went to spend a week with her aunt in Chico. That had been the routine for at least the last three or four years that I was aware of, as I had learned in our conversations and the fact that I actually saw her off at the bus last year just after she told me we could not be together.
Now that she had the baby I didn’t know if that was going to change the routine. If she did go for her annual visit I had no doubt that she would take the baby with her. If she went, that week to ten days would be my opportunity. But here was the rub. I needed to carry out my plan before the end of the school year while I could still depend upon the school bus schedule and the routine of the Dornan men. Since Eileen was no longer in school, would she go at the end of the school year, or would she make her trip earlier, as soon as the spring thaw when it was safer to travel?
It all came down to this, I had to continue thinking through every possible aspect of my plan; every contingency, every step and potential misstep, and be ready to move quickly if the opportunity presented itself.
March and April came and went. Weather began to turn more spring-like. We had one more good snow storm in March that dropped about seven inches, but after that other than a few rainy days the weather continued to back off and make room for spring. April 6th was Easter Sunday and it was the first day that was actually perfect for a sunrise service and some Easter egg hunting with the children after the morning worship service.
So the flowers bloomed, leaves unfurled on the trees, the ground began to dry out so mud wasn’t splashing everywhere you went, and I was spending a great deal of time spying on the Dornan home.
My parents were accustomed to me not being around. At school the days were more and more about getting ready for graduation. It was not unusual for there to be some after school planning session or preparing session and my folks were just clueless enough to believe that I was involved in all of that. I had a couple of friends who casually mentioned I wasn’t around much but it wasn’t difficult to make them believe I was home in my room, reading.
Therefore there was no magic trick involved in pedaling my bicycle out to East Quincy several afternoons per week, hiding myself and my bike in the trees across the road from the Dornan’s, and watching as one by one they kept to their steady and very predictable routine.
First, Frank would get home on the bus. It was no problem for me to get there first because of all the stops the bus made. So I was usually there and set up a good twenty or twenty five minutes before the bus dropped Frank off and went on down the road.
Frank was always greeted at the door by Buford, who would either come around the side of the house from the rear, or be there waiting in the living room when Frank opened the front door.
That was around 4:20pm on school days.
Then Rick came home from his part time job at the car dealership across the street from the High School. He did cleanup or something. He would go over there as soon as his last class was over, work for two hours, then go home. He had his own car so he would pull up in the driveway like clockwork at 5:35pm.
Their dad worked for a local contractor but he did some kind of office work and he came home at just a few minutes after 6pm. Then the Dornan day was done.
I wanted to be very sure that I was not going to be surprised by some glitch in the schedule, so I maintained my vigilance even though the routine never changed…
…except for one day…but it was a change I welcomed.
Thursday, May 29th, was the day before Memorial Day. We had Friday off, so I went out to watch the house happy that I was going to have a three day weekend to relax because there was no point spying on the Dornan’s on a day when the brothers were going to be out of school also and probably out doing something with friends.
I set up in the trees as usual. By this time I had my own little comfortable seat up next to a fallen tree where the ground had kind of shaped itself to my butt. I sat there in my relaxed position and watched as the school bus came to its usual squeaking, hissing stop and Frank got out. I watched as he walked to the door and Buford came bounding around the corner to greet him.
Then things got different. Frank no sooner had the front door shut behind him, when Ricky’s car came around the corner and he pulled up in the drive and jumped out. My first thought was that he had taken a day off from the dealership just because it was the Memorial Day weekend and he wanted extra time for something he had planned. Then, as he walked toward the front door it opened and Eileen stepped out. She was carrying a small overnight bag in one hand, and over her shoulder was a diaper bag. In her other arm was a cradled baby, and right behind Eileen came Frank with a suitcase.
I could hear Rick say “C’mon Sis, you’re gonna miss the bus!” Eileen’s voice was higher and quieter but I thought she was saying something about it not being her fault because she was ready for hours and Ricky just got there, then he said “Just c’mon”, and “here, gimme that” as he took the overnight bag from her and Frank put the suitcase in the trunk and trotted back into the house with Buford.
Eileen sat down in the front passenger seat, Rick got back behind the wheel, they backed out and shot down the road in the direction of town, and I was sitting up straight, staring at the Dornan house and thinking, “This is it!”
Well, it wasn’t actually ‘it’. I had to wait a full week and for that, I must admit, I was not my usual patient self. I obviously was not going to be able to take care of business over the holiday weekend. And during the week I could not be out late at night without my parents wanting an accounting of where I’d been. I might be graduating in two weeks, but I was still a student and I would only draw unwanted attention to myself by such a flagrant violation of their expectations.
Therefore, my first and only opportunity to move was going
to be Friday the 6th of June. Eileen would probably be back before the following Friday, if she held to the traditional week-to-ten-days visit to her Aunt. It had to be done on that Friday or not at all.
Now let me walk you through exactly how the night went, and you can see what you can find. You may need some scuba equipment for this one.
Immediately after school on Friday I pedaled my bike just as fast as I could push it in order to give myself the narrow margin of minutes I was going to get. This was the tightest and most potentially hazardous part of my plan.
I stashed my bike in a different spot than usual, farther from the Dornan house, because I had to consider that I might have to come back for it during a time there was activity around the house and I would have to go unseen.
Having foreseen this need, I had gone out the night before just long enough to hide my .22 rifle in a dry spot under a log. So I got there, hid the bike, retrieved my rifle, and trotted in the direction of the Dornan’s. When I got to the roadway I stopped at the tree line. I was out of breath, so I had to hold it in for a few seconds while I looked up and down the country road and listened for the sound of approaching vehicles.
All seemed quiet, but I knew the school bus could not be far away. I crossed the road quickly and headed around the side of the house. Buford met me in the rear. I knew he’d remember me, so that wasn’t going to be a problem. The problem was in the fact that I had to put him down. I really hated that part because I like dogs and it wasn’t his fault, but I couldn’t take a chance on the dog raising a fuss and making anyone suspicious.
With my left hand I patted his back as he wagged his tail and panted a smile up at me. With my right I placed the muzzle of the .22 flush against his neck under his chin and slanting upward and pulled the trigger. There was very little sound from the rifle and only a whimper and some jerking from Buford. Then he lay still. I cocked the rifle and put the spent cartridge in my pocket.
After dispatching Buford I laid him gently in the mudroom.
Then I let myself in the back door and took a chair in the dining room, just around the corner of the partial wall there that hid me from immediate sight of the front door.
And I waited.
I didn’t have to wait very long. The rumbling sound of the school bus came first, as though from a long way off, then it got louder as it turned off the highway and came down the unpaved road.
I heard the familiar squealing and hissing, and the bus door opening and closing, then I heard the bus engine revving up and the monster lumbered on down the road just as the front door opened.
I jumped a little when Frank yelled, “Buford!” because he was just the other side of the wall from me; just hadn’t seen me yet.
I stepped out from behind the wall with my rifle pointed and Frank yelped with surprise and jumped back a bit. In a quiet voice I commanded him to stand still. He did. His eyes were wide with surprise and I knew he was trying to figure out what I was doing there.
I told Frank to get down on his knees. At first he didn’t respond so I yelled it and he dropped quickly to the floor, holding his hands out to his side and kind of up like a Pentecostal, praying at the altar. Tears filled his eyes and then rolled down his cheeks as he squeezed them shut.
Right at that moment it occurred to me that Frank was probably the only innocent party in this mess. He was only a tenth grader and after all, he was Eileen’s twin. But I had to stick to the plan. I had to stay on track and not let myself be derailed. I was committed now and there was no turning back.
So I shot Frank in the left eye.
Now when I went hunting for rabbits I usually used hollow points because they spread and made a bigger hole and killed the animal faster. But for what I was doing that night I used .22 shorts, because it was all going to be close range, so rounds didn’t need to travel far, and they didn’t have as much velocity as the long rifle rounds so I knew they were very unlikely to pass all the way through. That meant much less blood to be cleaned up and that was part of my plan.
Well that bullet must have just bounced around and turned Frank’s brain into scrambled eggs because he fell backward, twitched just for a few seconds, then he was gone and there was very little blood.
I dragged Frank out to the garage and went back in the house to wait for Ricky.
Just like clockwork, I heard Rick’s car pull up into the drive at 5:35pm. He was whistling as he approached the front door. As I had watched him do many times, he hit the door on a quick walk and fairly burst inside, giving the door a hard swing behind him as he stepped into the living room.
This all happened in the space of about one second. His left hand shoved the door, his eyes focused on me standing about six feet in front of him, his eyebrows curled into a frown, and I shot him in the forehead. The pop of the rifle coincided with the slamming of the front door and then there was silence.
Rick’s head snapped back and then he stood up straight and looked at me with a sort of confused expression, like he was trying to understand what had just happened. Then he took a staggering step forward while I was working the bolt. It made me a little bit nervous because I was wondering if the round actually penetrated the skull or just stuck under the surface somewhere and I was going to have a fight on my hands.
Then I pulled the trigger again and hit him in the same spot. This time since he was standing still and flat-footed the impact made him sit down hard. Then his eyes rolled back until all I could see was white, and his body went into convulsions that lasted for about 30 seconds then he stopped. Ricky was a bit heavier than Frank but I got him out to the garage also and laid him next to his brother.
Then I waited.
I was feeling a little hungry so I went to the fridge and looked in but there wasn’t anything there that looked appealing. I remember thinking that when Eileen was there to cook for them there was probably some nice food available to eat after school, but after a week of her being gone they were probably each just foraging in the cupboards for canned spaghetti or something.
Well, their dad came home at the regular time and he was the one I was most certain was guilty of mistreating his daughter. So now I was angry. I went to the garage and stood in a small space beside the water heater. He would have to pass right by me to stand over his sons.
I had to wait longer than I would have wanted to, while he walked around the house calling “Frank” and “Rick” several times. Then he was only calling for Ricky, and I realized that he was now thinking maybe Frank was out playing, but Rick’s car was in the drive so he must be around.
Just when I was about out of patience and thinking about going in after him, the door from the kitchen opened and he stepped out into the garage saying “Hey Rick…” and that must be when he saw them lying there because his voice cut off suddenly. He took shuffling steps toward them until finally I could see him from around the back of the water heater. His back was fully to me now, and I heard him start to say something like “Muh…muh...” then I shot him point blank at the base of the skull. He dropped like a rag doll and didn’t even twitch once.
The next few hours were a little nerve-wracking for me because it dawned on me that I had never stayed around to watch after ‘Dad’ got home. So I started imagining some neighbor popping in, or some friend of one of the boys coming over for dinner, or even Eileen calling from the bus stop to ask why no one had come to pick her up.
As I sat there watching out the living room window I made new plans just in case something like that happened. If someone came to the front I would go out the back and lose myself in the woods until I could circle back around to my bike. I decided the .22 would have to be lost for good, but not anywhere near the house.
My fears were fortunately unfounded because no one came around and the phone didn’t ring. Several times I could hear the screams of a cougar way off in the distance. I knew that to be someone’s pet. Otherwise, it seemed like the whole world was asleep. The place was quiet as a morgue.
At 9pm
, when it was fully dark outside, I unscrewed the light bulb in the garage and found Rick’s keys in his pocket. Then I opened the outside garage door and turned his car around and backed up so the rear end was sticking into the interior of the garage and right next to where the three bodies lay.
That was the moment I got a new lesson in life. I had never heard the term ‘dead weight’; or if I had, I had never made the connection. Getting those three guys into the trunk of that car almost strained me beyond recovery. On some sitcom where everyone knows no one is really dead, what I went through would have gotten some hearty laughs. I wasn’t laughing though. There were moments when I was so very tired and so very sweaty and out of breath, I came close to giving up and looking for a way to just burn the house down around them.
Finally though, I was down to Frank. I was glad I had started with the dad, because as tired as I was, if I had loaded the other two first I never would have been able to get his bulk up and draped over that bumper, much less into the trunk. But it was done. It was a tight fit, and it was no help to me that toward the end they were starting to stiffen up with rigor, but it was done.
I closed the trunk lid and pulled the car forward so I could shut the garage door. Then I went back into the house and with the living room lights on I looked around for blood. The little bit that had been shed had stayed on the bodies. They had all died quickly and the .22 shorts had caused virtually no spatter. So after I made sure I had pocketed all four spent cartridges I turned off the lights, retrieved my .22 and went to the car.
By the time Eileen came home there would be nothing to find indicating anything had gone wrong in the house. She would wonder where everyone was, and after a day or two she’d start calling around and asking questions. But there wouldn’t be anything to find.
The Everman Journal Page 12
