5/3/98 5:20:06 PM
The story depicts and indicts the American system of jurisprudence. The criminal justice system in this country is vast, corruptible organization that could and maybe actually has allowed the guilty to go free and punished the innocent. It may have done this, because of its structure and the simple fact that a country of 300 million souls, some of whom may be asked to judge their fellow citizen has know way of knowing who has committed a crime and not been caught. The very idea astounded me one day as I considered it during a lunch break. The result this story. In this somewhat macabre tale, I try to show that a sexual psychopath could actually be asked to judge another criminal. What would happen then? Has this already occurr?
To Get Away With It
Darius Metrolise stared at the official municipal logo of the summons to appear in Detroit City Circuit Court, Room 1072 at 9:00 AM, June 12, 1994. It was this terse letter that had brought back the memory of his crime 12 years ago.
He sat down on the silk covered sofa loosened his tie and laid the letter down on the glass-topped coffee table before the sofa. He couldn't believe that the Court was actually asking him to serve on a jury for a homicide trial. How? He hadn't registered to vote anywhere, ever! Was it a trick? How ridiculous! If no one had suspected him in 12 years of that 'thing' he did, it couldn't be happening now! Besides, not even the cops would have the cunning to invite you to a trial to to... oh No? Impossible! Right?. He glanced at the letter again. It read:
Fellow citizen, you have been chosen to serve as a jury participant in the matter of Lean Vs. The State of Michigan. The defendant is accused of murder in the first degree. You are to report the above-named address, at the appointed time, promptly for voir dire proceedings.
"Voir dire", he'd heard the word before and thought he had a vague notion of what it meant. Didn't that have something to do with selecting a jury? Whatever, he didn't want any part of this, but yet was not sure why. Leaning back against the pillow cushions, Darius considered his options. He could ignore the letter and maybe raise suspicions as to his background. Or, he could ask to be excused from this trial, citing pressing needs elsewhere. There did not seem to be any other options. He walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and poured a drink of Vodka and lime. Why not call them? Yes, find out what this summons was all about. He looked at his watch: 4:02 PM. He thought: Yeah, somebody's there, and just maybe I'll get lucky and talk to somebody in the know, that'll get me outta this thing. He picked up the cordless phone, punched in the numbers at the bottom of the summons. Hollowed-out tones resounded to each punch. A sound he hated to hear. He sipped the drink. A static connection, and then a recorded message.
"You have reached the Municipal information help line, if you know your party's extension please dial it now, otherwise wait for the next available information agent.
Darius rolled his eyes knowing how inefficient these automated city phone services could be. Still, he wanted to know though. He had to find out why they had picked him. Suddenly, soon than expected, a high-voice woman answered the line as Darius was swallowing.
"Hello, legal services information, how may I help you? He gasped trying to finish his drink. "uh, yeah, (cough....cough) Excuse me.. .uh, .Yes. I got a letter here to appear for something called a voir dire in a criminal trial, and could you tell me what's this is all about?" "Okay, sure Sir can you give the six numbers on the right-hand side, and I'll look the case up. Darius thought: what an idiot? That's why I got away with it. I know what the hell's it's all, I want to know why me? "Oh yes, 67791-6".
He said slowly realizing that clerk was probably just some phone message taker and would more than likely pass his call on to another jerk, that would probably not help explain why he was chosen for this voir, whatever the hell it was. "Thank you, Sir one minute while I pull up the record, I'll put you on hold." He whispered after the hold click "Oh for God sakes!" Now, he was certain what would happen, the little college girl automaton would come back with some screen full of useless information and when he asked why was he being summons and could he possibly get out of it, her usefulness would be finished. She'd have to transfer him to some slightly higher go-between etc, etc. Not to mention how long he might have to wait while the little chick figured out how to get the right screen. He was tempted to hang up and forget it, but the fact that he'd invested the time to call kept him on. Finish it? Isn't that what he'd said when he stabbed that little girl. He couldn't let her go back and tell'em. The clerk clicked back in, and Darius was quite right, she would not really be able to answer his question.
"Uh, Sir, you are Darius Metro-lee-see?" "Metrolise, the 'e' is silent. Yes, I am. Okay, well all I can tell you is you have to appear-"I KNOW THAT!!-Is there any way I can be excused from this thing?"
She hesitated irritated that yet again a rude, nasty caller was reaching his voice to her. The clerk was just a few weeks away from returning to school and was nearing her breaking point with obnoxious callers. Still she knew, she had to keep her calm. "Well, Sir " She said with a sarcastic tone and paused "You can call the examining attorney directly and explain why you want to be excused." Darius jumped at the opportunity. "Yes, yes, give me that extension." "Okay, uh, that's extension 4424, hold while I connect you. He whispered "thank you". He was going to apologize for raising his voice but she had already put him on hold.
Attorney Reisker clicked in with her usually greeting.
"Attorney Reisker" "Hi, uh, I don't know if the person I was talking to told you why I'm calling but-"She said, you said something about not wanting to be voir dired, and look I'll tell you right now, you can return the form indicating you would like to be excused but I'd suggest, you at least try to make the first session. It only takes about an hour and if we do not choose you, you won't have to worry about it again. Darius thought, she's aggressive. "Well, Ma'am I was actually wondering what this voir dire thing was all about. I would like to avoid any court appearances since we're extremely busy at my job now, but maybe you can explain it to me?"
Reisker had heard the 'my job' excuse many times before. She suspected he might just not want to be bothered.
"Uh, Mr. Metrolise, it is Metrolise?" " Yes, that's right, you are one of the few who has gotten my last name right." "Oh, well I speak French, and recognize a French name when I see one. But, anyway, if you just can't make it you can send the form back with an explanation as to the reasons you can't attend the voir dire appointment and we will probably choose an alternate, okay?"
Reisker was in fact the busy one at that moment, and had decided to ditch this call quick. It was something in the way she spoke to him that made Darius completely change his mind about the whole thing. He knew she was getting irritated with his ambivalence about being voir dired and wanted to get him off the phone. He decided to oblige her but, keep the appointment.
"Okay, ma'am thank you for your time, I'll see what I can do."
He was going hang up without saying anything more then said:
"By the way, are you the attorney that would conduct this voir dire process?"
Reisker shifted in the leather-cushioned seat and dug her free hand into her jet black permed hair arranged in bangs. What did he wanna know that for?
"I will be one of the attorneys conducting the voir dire, yes. Uh, Mr. Metrolise, I really have to go now."--"I know, I'm sorry, sorry to hold you up. Perhaps I'll attend the proceedings after all. Okay, thanks a lot and take care."
He hung up a little embarrassed to be forced to hang up, it was usually the other way around, he thought. Jerks called him at work with questions about their research projects he supervised.
Who is Metrolise?
Darius Metrolise was a very sick but intelligent man. He had committed a horrible crime once in his life and quite against the odds, managed to live with the memory of its commission and had the luck of not being spotted or ever connected with the crime. Yet, he was in fact a depraved sexual psychotic. He had a penchant for pre-adolescent girls. His fantasies of raping a pre-adolescent girl had consumed him for year before he actually committed this act. A statistician working as a consultant to legal firms, insurance companies and private research organizations, Metrolise was a man of living contradictions. He had not had a sexual relationship with an adult woman since his wife died in a car accident one year before his crime. Though, a very attractive man, he had always been shy and reclusive. He harbored deep feelings of sexual inferiority and a seething hatred of other men, whom he perceived to have the prowess he lacked. His late wife did much to encourage this sentiment.
He had wanted to experience sexual fulfillment with someone that wouldn't be able to judge him. He fantasized regularly about how it would be capture a girl, little girl, maybe 8 to 10 years old and to fondle her private areas, kiss her prepubescent vulva, and feel the power that such a small, defenseless creature could give him. He also felt a savage hunger to ejaculate on and finally inside her. The thought of this act would consume him for hours during his weekends while masturbating to illegal photos of preadolescent girls. He would wonder during these depraved episodes, where did these children come from? How could anybody get a child to pose like that? Were they abandoned street children? Were they forced to make the photo? Finally, he would yearn to find such kids. Then, the memory would return...
Why she had cried out so loud that day? If he could have just stopped her another way. Then, the dismembering of her tender body. NO! He couldn't bear that memory for long. Yet, in spite of his attempt to expunge the memory of how he'd disposed the child's body, he would eventually recall every grim detail: her smell as he arms off the arms, it was like some sweet candy mixed with blood; the suction rush of her lungs as he cut her down the middle of her chest. With flooding tears, he recalled what always seemed to him a whimper from her dead corpse as he pierced the knife through her back to saw her in half.
Darius had been plagued by haunting nightmares even before his murder. To his continuing intrigue after its commission, he seldom recalled the act or dreamt of being caught for the crime. Instead, he often dreamt of his own murder, or as close as his somnolent mind would permit him to get to the act of perishing at the hands of an assailant.
He attempted to psychoanalyze the meanings behind the assortment of 'persecution dreams' as he termed. The irony of a him, unpunished murderer, analyzing himself in Freudian style was not lost upon him. He often remarked aloud, alone: Is this what they (psychologists) wanted? It was obvious to him, that his recurrent dreams of being pursued and killed was a Superego expression of guilt. The interpretation of the dreams was always the same: his conscience was telling him that he must pay for the unpunished crime. Or was it? Don't other people, people that have never committed an act like his dream of being harmed? Of course, he'd had such discussions with the few co-workers that had managed to gain his casual acquaintance. He reasoned it was deeper, he was trying to tell him to preserve himself, to not let the crime overwhelm him, to not himself suffer the consequences of his action. Strange as this conclusion would seem to a rational mind, Darius, a man descending into the deranged world of serious psychosis, had a gathering confidence in his deduction. It had a verisimilitude sound reasoning. He dispensed with the notion that he a done something wrong, considering it an fait accompli, not to be judged. It was a fact of life for him. He even managed to delude himself that the girl's actions made it necessary to kill her. But, the most important thing was not to be caught, he had most monumental endeavors to complete in his life, and would not let this act of uncontrolled lusting undo him. For fact, in 12 years since he'd never so much as gone near another little girl. No, the dreams were there to remind that he must be vigilant, not ever slip and let someone, somewhere know that he'd been responsible for Lydia Gordeira's death. If he did, it would surely spell his own death. Hence, the dreams of his murder. He noticed that each dream always involved him giving the would-be assailant confidence: his address, his phone number, a place he would be at a specific time. This information was lead to him being captured and threatened with torture, then ultimately the attempt to kill him.