by Dr Harper
They edited out every single piece of evidence that could have gone in my favor.
Then there was Jane’s written complaint to the board of psychology about how I blackmailed her husband into therapy. The phone company provided the call transcript. Apparently she redacted it, but that didn’t matter anymore. The complaint was one of many anyways.
But the nail in the coffin for my case was Anne and Rose.
The sobbing sisters showed the jury their fresh knife wounds, blathering on about how I held them captive and stabbed them every time they misbehaved. My fingerprints were all over the knives, and they planted that terrifying man-with-two-knives body armor in my closet.
Let’s face it. I looked like a fucking psycho.
You might think that some of my happier patients would come testify in my favor, but Phil and Eleanor were long gone by this point – with their phones disconnected to hide from the cult. And there was no way Mormon Jane and Howard would be showing their faces at this shitshow. I don’t blame them. The prosecutors and media had done a fantastic job of branding me as the next Doctor Kevorkian.
Plus, between Officer Donahue’s police background and My Happy Family’s talent for video editing, the entire world had become victims of a digital hallucination.
So that left Noah.
I had no idea where Noah was, but he obviously didn’t kidnap Kierra. I’m pretty sure he would have shown up here if he could, which meant Kierra probably got to him. And that’s what keeps me up at night, more than anything else in this stupid trial.
Long story short, the only real witness to the defense was myself. And what was I supposed to say? “I was framed by a cult leader cop posing as The Zombie killer”? Or maybe… “These sisters actually stab each other to manipulate homeless people!” Or how about, “This cop’s fake daughter threatened to drive her ex-husband to suicide.” And of course, my get-out-of-jail-free card: “Jane’s husband thought he was a cow.”
Anything I said would only make things worse. The jury – and the rest of the world – had already made up their minds.
So I did exactly what my lawyer suggested.
I kept my mouth shut and prayed for a deal.
◆◆◆
“Tony, what was your childhood like?”
“It was wild, doc!” he said. “Like nothing you can imagine. My mom was a hooker, and my dad smacked the shit out of us every night.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” I said. “But it’s never too late to start healing old wounds.”
“Wait, you’re not some kind of government agent, are you?” Tony’s eyes went wide. “I’ve heard about those CIA experiments where they learn everything about you – just so they can force you to assassinate the President.”
I looked at my cellmate for a moment, and then wrote something down in my notebook. I guess that’s why everyone around here called him ‘Tinfoil Tony’.
“No, Tony,” I said gently. “I’m just a therapist who’s trying to help.”
“A therapist in prison?” he said skeptically. “That really sounds like some CIA shit. Hey, were you part of the Newtown cover-up?”
“Look,” I said, trying to mask my disgust. “I just got here and I’m terrified. The only way I know how to relax myself is to help people.”
“You think you’re terrified now?” said Tony darkly. “Give it some more time. This place is evil.”
“Well, jail isn’t supposed to be fun.”
“It’s not a regular jail.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Sure, some of the inmates are bad – like that Zombie dude. But it’s the innocent ones that’ll keep you up at night.”
“Everyone says they’re innocent,” I laughed. “That’s my story too, and yet I held two people captive above my garage.”
“This is different,” he said. “People pay big money to have their enemies locked up here. One of the guys on death row was actually a victim of violent assault. His ex kept him locked up as a sex slave, and then turned the whole thing around on him.”
I screwed up my face. “What?”
“If you think that’s strange, just wait until you hear about the guards.”
I shook my head. Why was I entertaining the words of someone who was so clearly paranoid?
“What about them…?” I said with a sigh.
He lowered his voice again, to the point where it was barely audible.
“The guards are running a pedo-ring in here,” he whispered. “That’s the real conspiracy.”
I glared at Tony, and then walked over to the cell door so he wouldn’t see my eyeroll.
As I gazed at the cells around me, I realized that these people made my past patients look like harmless butterflies. It used to be OCD, PTSD, and boanthropy. Now, I was surrounded by mass murderers, rapists, and pedophiles.
My deal was life without parole – in exchange for taking the death penalty off the table.
The only way I would ever feel comfortable in this place was by learning everything about everyone. The inmates and the guards. So what better place to start than with my cellmate?
If this was my fate, I was determined to make the best of it.
And as for Noah’s fate?
I’ve had a private investigator searching for him for weeks. The media is still convinced he kidnapped Kierra, but I know that’s not true. I don’t even know if he’s alive anymore.
I had pretty much given up all hope for finding him. Until one afternoon, I returned to my cell and found something on my bed…
A very peculiar note.
End of Patient File #220
Secret Admirer
I picked up the note and read it curiously.
Will you go to prom with me?
Then there were two checkboxes for “Yes” or “No”.
“What the hell?” I muttered. Was this some sort of prison bitch thing? My goal here was to learn from my past – lay low and not make any enemies. How had I already upset someone?
“It’s urine…” Tinfoil Tony spoke from his bed. “Invisible ink, like the Nazi prisoners used – if you believe that the holocaust happened.”
I spun around. “Did you read it?”
“Maybe…” He raised his eyebrows. “Seems that you’ve made a friend, doc.”
He leaned forward and handed me a lighter. I hesitated. I really didn’t want to get into trouble, but I already had a life sentence. What was the worst that could happen?
I flicked on the flame and held it safely below the note until words began to appear. In a few more seconds, the entire message was illuminated:
Dr. Harper,
You don’t know me, but I know you. I’m sure we’ll cross paths soon enough. I followed your trial with keen interest. And I couldn’t believe my good fortune when I read that you had been transferred here.
As it turns out, you and I have something in common:
Neither of us belongs here.
Fortunately, I can get us out of here. But I can’t do it alone. You see, I know this place inside and out. I know the security, the guard schedule, and I have blueprints of the entire building. But you have something I don’t:
The tremendous ability to manipulate people.
If we’re going to escape, we need to gain the trust of several key guards and inmates. I will explain more soon, but only if you’re interested in helping. Please RSVP at your earliest convenience, and leave your response in the head of the broken shower.
Take care.
I looked up from the note and frowned. Was this some kind of joke? Maybe a test from the guards to see if I would say yes?
“Based on the handwriting, I would say Yes if I were you,” Tony spoke again. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone your secret.”
I shook my head and walked back to the cell door. Looking out across the prison population, I couldn’t imagine teaming up with any of them. These were some seriously scary people, and I didn’t believe for one second that this note-writer was innocent.
I turned around to see Tony holding the only photo I had in here.
“Give me that!” I marched over and snatched it from him.
Then I stared at the photograph, even though I had already looked at it a hundred times since I got in here.
It was the one Noah had framed for me.
In the picture, I looked like a bit of a mess. I hadn’t shaved in a week, and I had forgotten my contacts so I was wearing glasses. But I still liked the picture, mainly because of Noah’s expression.
I was trying to get him to focus on the photographer, because he kept staring off into space and talking about flying sailboats. I got pissy as usual, so the end result was actually a pretty good representation of our time together.
“You’re in love with him,” said Tony with a toothy grin. “Don’t worry, it’s all good with me. I’m an ally.”
I looked up at him incredulously. “So you think school shootings and mass genocide are false flags, but you’re an LGBT ally. That’s… special.”
“Gotta stand up for love, doc.” Tony opened up a crossword puzzle. “If I knew someone who made my eyes light up like that, I’d pick Yes in a heartbeat.”
“What does love have to do with the note?”
“You’ve got a life sentence,” he said simply. “If there was a chance you could get out of here and be with him, why wouldn’t you take it?”
I thought for a moment. I didn’t even know if Noah was alive. But maybe Tinfoil Tony was right. If there was a chance I could get out of here and try to find him, didn’t I owe him that? Especially after everything I put him through.
But it was too dangerous. I was supposed to be minding my own business and keeping a low profile. This was the complete opposite of that.
I took another look at the photograph and, almost instantly, I felt that soft sensation come flooding back into my heart. How the hell could a picture do that to me?
I had spent my whole life trying to protect and control everything. And look where it got me. Maybe it was time to bid farewell to the guardian around my heart, and try exploring the soft feeling instead.
I slowly raised my hand to my chest and whispered, “Tell me what to do, Elliot.”
“You know what to do, doc…” Tinfoil Tony jotted down another word on his crossword puzzle. “Unless you think he could be one of those lizard people… Half of our presidents have been reptilian–”
“Jesus, do you have an off button?” I snapped, walking over to his bed. “I need to borrow your pencil.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“You know, you’ve got a bit of a mood issue, doc…” He handed me the pencil.
“Sorry,” I muttered, scribbling my answer on the note. “I’ve been told I have a short fuse.”
He took the pencil back and relaxed into his bed.
“Maybe you need a therapist.”
Afterword
Thank you for reading the #220 files.
The prison files are coming next. If you’d like to read them, please check out my private practice at:
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