The Brute

The Brute

The busy police station bustled with morning activity. The paperwork from the previous night was being processed and follow-up police work was now being scheduled. Skilled fingers of experienced office assistants zipped across keyboards while junior officers caught up with their favourite singles. Supervisors and sergeants bullied their underlings into action as best they could and the police arm of the bureaucratic system bent and flexed.

The door to the Lock-Up opened and two detectives with a detainee calmly walked into the arena. They walked down one of the isles between the numerous desks and workstations. Some of the workers looked up in surprise.

A sergeant confronted the trio, "Why are you bringing a detainee in HERE!"
The older of the detectives spoke, "Have to, Sergeant. The lower interview rooms are being used and the watch house rooms are being renovated. Captain Norris told us to use the room in the Admin. area."
"Oh right, Detective Masters." Said the Sergeant and looked for the first time at the detainee.

His hardened face showed a slight revulsion. The revulsion was gone in an instant but it had amused Masters greatly.

The Sergeant moved out of the way and they continued around the corner.

Masters was aware of the effect their detainee was having on the ‘soft’ administration corps of the police force. He had faced many serious and life-threatening situations during his career on the force. In all that time he had not been able to satisfactorily answer his family’s question as to why he does this job and its many hazards. But it was moments like these that seemed to justify his sacrifices.

The detectives ushered the detainee down the isle towards the Interview Room. The prisoner did not resist and the detectives had a cautionary grip on the man.

Someone dropped something with a loud clatter. It grabbed everyone’s attention including the detectives. The detainee resisted looking but the detectives had stopped. He resisted looking for as long as he could but inevitably… He looked.

The attention of the whole office had wandered back to the prisoner just as he raised his head to look.

There were some gasps but as per usual, they just stared as if trying to comprehend or understand. The man felt the staring and felt the old familiar anger rise in him. His face flushed with that anger.

It was not that his face was deformed or his body crippled. In fact, there was nothing wrong with his body at all. It was his mind that was deformed and crippled. His mind was a jumble of cracked and broken memories with no cohesion of time nor place. It caused him to be unable to think clearly. There was no harmony or order in his mind which imprinted lack of order and harmony in his face.

It was like a dark cloud loomed behind his face and contorted it. It was the lack of harmony that made him ugly to other people. He looked rough and ugly, often likened to a brute.

Even the hardened cops stared at him like they were trying to figure out what was wrong.

The brute dropped his head and felt shame. This made him angrier.

A smell gradually filled the room. It caught in the air conditioners and got recycled into the area.

The dark spot appeared in the front of the brute’s pants and grew. A puddle soon formed.

People soon realized what they were smelling and grabbed their noses in disgust. Some headed for the exits, others grabbed for something to stuff in front of their noses to filter out the fiendish smell.

All of them looked away from the brute and he knew this.

The detectives grabbed for their handkerchiefs and stuffed them in front of their noses. They swore quietly and shoved the brute towards the room. The brute finally took a look at where they were going.

His eyes widened and he emitted a strangled cry. The detectives sensed the fight in him and restrained him. The brute struggled and the detectives called for assistance. Other cops arrived from around the station and the wrestled him towards the door.

The brute could not see the cops. He could only see men in white uniforms with electric cattle prods and leather belts. They were coming to strap him down and take him to the room. He wrestled with them and felt the jolts from the cattle prods but he kept fighting. It was better than giving in to what lay in the room.

More men in white uniforms came but the brute was desperate. Each visit to the room deleted more and more of who he was. The brute was not just fighting for his life he was fighting for his sanity. He found something deep within him and used it.

The white uniforms flew off him as though a bomb had hurled them in all directions. The brute stood in the middle of the confusion. He had done this before but this time the white uniforms had guns. They had never had guns before. Their white shirts melted into blue uniforms. They were cops and they had guns drawn.

The brute held his cuffed hands up and surrendered. They shoved him quickly into the interview room and locked it.

The windows of the station are flung open and the place aired out. Detective Masters and his partner, Detective Callow, observe the suspect in the Observation room. They discuss their tactics for the interview when their Captain enters the observation room.

Captain Norris said, "Is he the only suspect?"
Masters reported. "Frank Bruce Carnally. So far, he is the only suspect. He is the gardener at the school where the girl was attacked. He lives only blocks away from the school and can be placed near the school at the time of attack."
Norris said, "What about alibis? Landlady? Flat mate? Friends?"
Callow reported, "The Caretaker at the Boarding House where he stays said she doesn’t know if he was in or out at the time of the attack but he was home for the meal an hour before. She said he keeps to himself as most of the boarders do but he was particularly withdrawn and rarely spoke to any of them. Other than that, she has had no trouble with him. He pays his bills on time, doesn’t drink, is neat and does not cause any disturbances."
Norris said, "He sounds like a saint not a murderer."
Master exclaimed, "A murderer! Did the girl die, Captain?"
Norris said, "Yes. She died of her wounds about an hour ago. So this case is upgraded to Murder One. Do you want the case or transfer it to Trecket and Morphett?"
Masters said, "No. We can do this one. It is pretty straightforward. We just have to get him to talk and then he will confess. They always do."
"OK! Keep me posted." Norris said and walked out.
Masters said as he looked back at the brute, "This changes things."
Callow said, "How so?"
"Well, we have greater leeway now. We can get higher priority on warrants and manpower but most of all, it puts him under enormous pressure in the interview. I guarantee he will crack within two hours of us starting."
"Is that a fact? So what do we do now?"
"Now we go to lunch and then let all the information come in. We sift through it all and then start in on this guy tonight. Get the watch sergeant to organize some food for him."
"Sure."
"So were do you want to eat?" They left the observation room.

Later that night, the detectives re-entered the observation room.
"OK, so what do we know so far?"
His name is Frank Bruce Carnally. Works as a Janitor at the Poins Grove School. He is a psychiatric patient placed in the school through the… ‘Work For All’ program… allowing the cured to re-enter society. Carnally has been at the school for two months after being dismissed from the previous school."
"Fired? For what?"
"He was given three warnings for absent without calling in sick. I talked to the Principal and she said he just plain forgot to come to work most days. She tried to get rid of him but the program falls under the Guidance Councilor’s position and they have complete authority over the position."
"Guidance Councilor? Why is a Janitor under the authority of a Guidance Councilor?"
"Because a Guidance Councilor is a trained Psychologist and these employees are psych patients."
"Right."
"Anyway, the principal from the previous school issued three separate warnings to Carnally and then legally fired him. She has been under fire from the Psychiatric Board ever since but she is a tough old bird."
"OK. So they are letting mentally ill patients hold down jobs in our local schools under the care of a psychologist. Great! So we have a wolf among the chickens. What idiot came up this boner!"
"I don’t know."
"Me either and I don’t want to find out either. So what was Carnally admitted to the psychiatric ward for?"
"I asked the Poins Grove School’s Guidance Councilor, Mr. Calvin Ritter, that same question and he refused to give me any information. He quoted the specific Act of Parliament. I check it with the courts and guess what… They don’t have to give us squat. They don’t have to give us anything unless they feel like it!"
"Yes… I have hit that one before. So, do we have any other way of finding what he was committed for?"
I got Kelly from research working on it. She had a couple of ideas on records she could check but she said not to be very hopeful."
"What about the Guidance Councilor himself, Ritter. What’s he like?"
"Got his photo here from the police files." Callow handed the Ritter file to his senior.
"The Guidance Councilor has a police record! Arrested under the vagrancy act. Living off the earnings of a prostitute? Was this guy a pimp?"
"No. He was a driver for an escort agency. He drove the pros to their tricks and then drove them home again."
"After the trick had drove the pro." Masters laughed at his own joke. "So we have two suspects then."
"What else do we know?"
"Carnally worked at the Poins Grove school where twelve year old Josie Hilda Calamy was attacked and raped. Calamy later died of her wounds from the attack. When asked as to his whereabouts at the time of the murder, Carnally would not provide any information to us at all." Callow said.
"OK, so what do we know about this brute of a man?" Masters said looking at the brute himself.
"Born in Dovail and schooled at that city’s Grammar School. Graduated his senior year with honors and went to the University of…"
"Wait… wait… He graduated his senior year? With honors? Then he went to University? Callow… Look at that man… He is a brutish man. Does he look as though he graduated anything?
"No he doesn’t. That is why I checked his file against other same and similar names in the file. I cross-checked known felons and Jones is no checking the name down at the Hall of Records. I have a photo of him."

Masters took the newspaper clipping off Callow and scanned over it. The clipping was from a local Poins Grove paper and the article was of Carnally as a small town boy does good in the big city. He examined the photo analytically. Many of the features were the same and the hair color matched but the photo was of a young man who was not handsome but was not ugly either.

The brute in their Interview room was not pleasing to look at. In fact, Masters found himself, at times, involuntarily looking away. If this was the same man, what had happened to him? What or who could have had such an effect on a human being? A tortured soul imprinting itself on the body’s face.
Callow wondered, "What happened to this guy?"
"Let’s ask him." Masters said.
"Let’s do it, then." Callow said, grabbed the case file and they left the room.

The two detectives entered the interview room. The stench was overpowering and Callow caught himself before he vomited. They sat at the table across from the brute and placed the closed file on the table so he had his attention on it. Masters started the tape recorder. Masters gave the starting introduction for the tape announcing who he was, who his partner was and the interviewee.
Masters started, "Mr. Carnally, did you know or have any contact with Miss Josie Hilda Calamy?"
No answer came from the suspect.
Masters continued, "Mr. Carnally did not respond to the question. Now Mr. Carnally, we do need you to answer our questions.

Callow answered the door and was given an envelope. He opened it and pulled out a photo. Taking over the interview from the spent Masters, Callow waded in by sliding the photo across the desk to the brute. He finally opened the file and produced the newspaper clipping. He slid that over next to the other photo. "I have looked hard at those photos and they are not the same person."

The brute looked at the photos with a spark of recognition. He took up the old newspaper clipping.

Masters shook his head to try and clear out the nasty taste in his mouth. He knew where this was headed and he did not want to got there. Protocol of the interview would not permit him to contradict or countermand his partner, so he said nothing. He watched the brute read the newspaper clipping and searched his own motives for letting this line of questioning proceed.

He discovered a perverse urge was keeping him interested in the reactions of the brute. He had a theory about what had happened to Mr. Frank Bruce Carnally and part of him wanted to see if he was right. His unease came from the thoughts of the pain and emotion the brute would go through to prove his theory.

The brute was hunched over the table as he had since entering the room. But he was totally focused on the photo and clipping. There was no other reaction.

Minutes followed minutes and Callow fidgeted in his chair. Masters held up a cautionary hand and Callow resumed his relaxed posture. He looked anything but relaxed. Masters glanced at the brute and then the photos. There were tiny little droplets of tears on them.

Masters gave Callow his cue and the young detective sailed in on the suspect. "You know Miss Josie Hilda Calamy, don’t you?"
"Yes." Came a smooth voice that did not fit the brutish exterior. "She was a troubled little girl who couldn’t tell her enemies from her friends."
"What enemies?"
"School bullies, people who pretend to be your friend but are really your enemy and the system."
The system…?"
"The school system. It is not set up to protect or nurture. It is only set up as a mass child-minding exercise. It could never protect troubled children with hidden talents."
"And Miss Josie Hilda Calamy had hidden talents?"
"Josie could see beauty in everything."
"Did she see beauty in you?"

The brute dropped his head even lower and wept as silently as he could. The cloud of pain swept over him once again as familiar as an old raincoat and just as comfortable. Broken pictures of Josie racketed around his head. They were memories with holes in them and gaps in their sequence. He could see her looking at a tree or a flower or a bug and laughing. She found mirth in many things but on the flip of a coin she would become so sad.

"Yes, she even found beauty in me." The brute finally said.
"So she confided in you? Made you her special friend? Something that you may have mistaken as a come-on?"
"No, I doubt that I have ever talked to her."
"You never talked to her?"
"I don’t think so."
"You don’t THINK so? You just watched her from the bushes or a window!"
"Probably, I remember seeing her watching some bugs on a bush near the path that leads to the supply shed. And I saw her looking at me once with that same look of mirth on her face that she looked at the bugs and flowers."
"That is a beautiful and uplifting version of the truth but we aren’t here for that and you know it. We are here to get the real version of what happened. You do know that don’t you!"
"The real version, detective, is something you don’t want. The real version is what everyone is running from! The real version is why TV and video games are so popular. It is why eye-witnesses remember ‘nothing’ when they saw the whole thing. The real version is why Papa prefers the company of his garage full of tools rather than the company of his soapy-addicted wife. People find it easier to bungy-jump, sky dive or do any other host of extreme sports rather than confront the real version.
I could tell you the ‘real version’ but it would cause you more pain than you could tolerate and make you ineffective on your job."
"Try me."
"The beast created the system but now the system creates the beast and the beast took Miss Josie from us."
"I just checked my pants… They’re not wet."
"You’re not looking!"
"ENOUGH OF THIS! DID YOU ATTACK JOSIE HILDA CALAMY?"
"The beast did!"
"YOU ARE THE BEAST, AREN’T YOU! YOU ATTACKED AN INNOCENT LITTLE GIRL THAT YOU THOUGHT WAS RIPE FOR THE PICKING. Only when you tried to have sex with her she resisted. The more she resisted the more excited you got. She resisted with everything she had and you just got more and more excited until…"
"THANK YOU, MR. CALLOW!" Masters took control of the interview.

Callow slammed his fist onto the table and hauled his anger in with all his might. If you pressured all that anger into a metal cylinder, it would explode with enough force to level a building.
"Mr. Carnally. You mentioned the system as being the Education system before. Is that correct?"
"Yes. When I mentioned that the system was not designed for children such as Josie."
"So that is the system that created the beast that you said attacked Josie."
"Not fully, no. The education system is basically the same hodgepodge conglomerate of workable technology, false data and plain vicious lies that man has been hobbling along with for the last ten thousand years. That is the system that gets regurgitated every time someone comes up with a ‘new idea’ for government."
"So who is the beast that invented the system?"
"The beast is that part of man that commits evil. It was a man succumbing to evil that first invented this system."
"Right. So the beast created the system but now the system creates the beast."
"Yes. The system perpetuates the evil that created it by forcing those within it to succumb. They take on the beingness of that evil."
"So it was one of the people in the system that attacked Josie!"
"Yes… I didn’t say that."
"But you did not deny that either."
"I know several beasts within the system. They are different in looks and styles. They are short, tall, lean, fat, intelligent, dumb. They are all types but they all have one thing in common… They all hide their insanity behind their eyes. They mask their face in lies but they disburse attention from themselves by smiles but their eyes cannot contain their rage. The truth is in their eyes."
"How do you know this?"
I have lived in their world. This broken wreck is all that is left."
"Are you the beast that attacked Josie?"
"I don’t think so."
"You keep saying that. Yes or no! Did you attack Josie."
"… I don’t know, Detective."
"Why did you hesitate before answering? What were you thinking of?"
"I tried to remember but there are holes…"
"Holes? You mean gaps?"
"Yes. Gaps in my memories. But also the memories I do have can be shattered or even have holes through them. I remember bits and pieces of Josie but none of them are a rape scene."
"Mr. Carnally! This is serious. We are going to charge you with the attack and rape of a minor. If you have anything which proves your innocence or puts you in a better light, you have to tell us or we cannot help you."
"I am telling the truth as best that I can, Detective."
"Then tell me what you do know."
"I know Josie. I have seen her around the school as I worked. I know that she spent a lot of time by herself. I don’t remember speaking to her but that does not mean that I did not. There is a fragmented piece of memory. It was a couple of days ago and Josie was walking down the path that leads past the Science building and then exits the school. The sun was quite low so it must have been late afternoon. The school was pretty much deserted. …Oh Damn it!"
"What?"
"There is a big, black hole in it. I cannot see!."
"What! What do you mean you cannot see!"
"There is a big, black mass sitting in the picture and it sucks up all the picture."
"The picture? You mean the memory?"
"That is all a memory is, detective. It is a mental recording of the physical universe. Mine have been all but destroyed."

Masters looked at the pictures of Carnally on the table. There was such a marked difference that he could be mistaken as two different people. Masters resisted the urge to ask the question for several moments but lost. He was still looking at the pictures of Carnally when he asked the question, "What the hell happened to you?"

Carnally looked down at the pictures and fragmented memories flooded into view. There was the room with the generator and the electrodes. There were men in white uniforms and nurses. There was a shabby, unclean man in a doctor’s coat. Carnally tensed involuntarily as he felt the electrodes being placed on his temples and the icy touch of the stethoscope. Then came the surges of pain as they sent the electricity through his brain.

His thoughts once again scattered but the pain remained. There was no escape from it.

Fragmented memories floated into view then departed. He noticed his sister and mother. There were dogs and cats, friends, bicycles and books. He saw schools and teachers he would never recognize again. He saw buildings and accomplishments like he was seeing them for the first time but they were all laced with searing pain. There were accounts and cars and secretaries, restaurants, fights and dancing. He wanted to vomit with each new surge of pain.

Carnally wanted to stop remembering now but no longer knew how to stop. The surges of pain continued over and over and over again. He saw one of the many stages on which he stood to the clapping and cheering of the audience. There was always the shabby doctor and the hidden men in white uniforms. The doctor would always introduce Carnally as ‘cured’ or ‘the wonders of shock therapy’.

Carnally would always want to scream at them. Scream at them all. He wanted to revile them, degrade them, stop them and warn them. He wanted to do many things but his body was no longer capable of responding and the psychiatric conventions would convene for refreshments and he would be strapped in and packed away into his wheel chair. He would ram the door and flail about in his chair until it tipped over. The floor would always feel cool to his overheated and abused skull. It was cool like metal. A metal table would feel this way. It would feel just like the metal table in the interview room.

Carnally felt the coolness of the metal table in the police interview room. He sensed the acidic smell of his own fresh urine. The sound of heavy breathing through cloth told him that the two detectives were still in the room. Carnally could hear a strange sort of talking and realized it was his own voice. He was not aware that he could talk to others during one of these episodes.

Carnally raised his head slowly off the table and wiped the spittle from his cheek and chin. He wiped the tears from his eyes and looked at the detectives. The older detective looked shocked and pale. He had the look of someone confronting the atrocities of war. This was true but the war being fought was hidden to the public mainly because they could not confront such evil. The older detective was doing his best.

The younger detective was one of the public that could not confront such evil that men could commit. He looked like he had seen something on the TV that he did not agree with. He was going to get angry. He was going to get fight this and get very, very angry. Some people will fight you if you try to rescue them from the witch pit.

The fragment of the last time he had seen Josie was still in view. He played it through and someone approached Josie while she was on the path. The black hole was over the person and grew as the memory continued until it sucked in the whole picture and nothing could be seen of it. He knew it was the beast. "I can see the last time I saw Josie. The picture is pretty well destroyed but she meets a person wearing black trousers and she is talking with that person. The picture pretty much disintegrates after that. But I can pretty much guarantee that the person was a beast and that…"
Detective Callow injected, "I thought you were going to give us the ‘real version’?"
"Not if you are going to sit there and watch TV!" The brute countered.
Callow said, "I’m watching it waiting for your ‘real version’ to come on… So far I have just been getting commercials and a lot of snow!"
"The real version is that you, Detective, don’t have the career you originally wanted. Do you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You are a detective because you failed to be what you really wanted to be. Is that right?" The brute watched knowingly as the young detective’s face reddened. "Yes, that thought you just had…that is what you really wanted to do but you failed. You failed miserably."

The young detective snapped like a dry twig. He leapt at the brute and managed to get his fingers around the brute’s throat. The brute smiled slightly. Death was not a bad option. Masters got Callow in a headlock and pull backwards as hard as he could. The force coming from Callow locked his arms into a position where he could cut off the lifeblood of the brute.

Callow slowly became aware that his own life was coming under threat. The fact that he could not breathe slowly dawned on him and the pain from Masters strangle hold hit him with full force and Callow released his grip on the brute.

Both detectives flew backwards. The sprawled across the floor and lay gasping for several moments. Masters suddenly remembered the brute. He sat up and looked across the floor. The brute was still on floor in the same position that Callow had had him.

He was breathing.

Other police finally came into the room and hauled the detectives to their feet. The Captain was in there demanding to know what had happened. He ordered everyone to leave the room.

Carnally spoke as the detectives were being ushered out. "Detective! There is a beast at the school and that is your attacker. The beast has also been watching us."
Masters looked a little confused. "Watching us… here in this room?"
"Yes. Right now. The beast is watching."

Masters and Callow were ushered out of the interview room. The captain shut the door firmly and looked at his two detectives. "You are off this case! This was a simple, straightforward arrest and conviction. It is a brutal murder with a brutal suspect. All you had to do was assemble the evidence and present the case."

"I think he is innocent…" Masters claimed.
"IT IS NOT YOUR JOB TO THINK! It is your job to gather evidence and present a case!"
"But there are TWO suspects!"
"There is only one!
"No! There are two!"
"Detective Masters, you are suspended from service as of now until an internal investigation is concluded on you post and behavior concerning conduct."
"THERE ARE TWO SUSPECTS!"
"Stand down, Detective Masters!"
"BUT…"
"Stand Down!"

Masters posture went slack and the Captain took that for compliance. He ordered the men to be taken to his office and guarded.

Masters sidestepped his usher and entered the observation room. He startled a man in there, drinking coffee and watching. The man looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Masters knew the face from somewhere. Then he remembered with a vividly clear picture, "Mr. Ritter!… So nice of you to join us."

The End.