Smile

Smile

By: Louis Williams

You can listen to this story if you like. Simply go to:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2-X8xBQrQY

I can feel your judgmental stares upon me for my actions in this. But let me ask you, what would you have done? Could you have stepped into the lion's maw to save a total stranger? Someone hated? Someone like him? Could sacrifice yourself for someone so despicable as that man? Who did the crimes he did? All with a smile upon his face in the act and in the retelling?

The name of Ramond Furgeson will go down in history as one of the most twisted, violent serial killers of all time. In the interview after he was captured he was pleasant, jovial even. He had a smug smile upon his face as he smoked cigarette after cigarette in the small room, despite being repeatedly asked to not smoke by all three of us. He waved his right to counsel and happily told of how he figured out how to dismember the human body by studying old dolls and medical films. He explained his process of practicing on animals first.

He even told one story he thought was particularly amusing about how he captured a neighbor's dog who had wandered onto his property, and tortured the poor beast, then skinned it alive. Even mimicked some of its howls of pain. After wards, he said while laughing, he attempted to drink a cup of the animal's blood. "Why, I felt," He said with a sadistic grin, "that since it was such a magnificent beast, that I could drink its blood and retain its strength within me!" He began to laugh, "all I did was vomit all over myself!"

After hearing such stories all week, can you agree what happened was at least justified? Even if it was illegal? A killer with no remorse and no boundaries? One who preyed upon those in their infancy as well as those who were elderly? Who played with the bodies of those he slaughtered, sometimes even attempting to wear their skin, just because he saw it on a movie once?

Of course after he waved his right to counsel and even signed confession after confession to each crime, he arrived at court with an attorney, one of the most famous criminal defense attorneys of our time. After all, for such a creature as that what is crime but a mere game to be played? Something to have sport with before you get caught? To see how long and how much you can get away with before your finally sent to prison or killed?

I tell you, watching him move around the court room, weaving tale after fanciful tale as proof of his 'insanity', he almost convinced me. If it wasn't for that smile, that sardonic, sadistic smile he kept while his lawyer went on and on in detail about each crime I might have been fooled. Oh, that twisted smile. You can hear the story of how he wore an eighty-year-old woman's skin and dress to try and fool a delivery man and believe him to be totally insane. But the smile he gave during the retelling said different. He wasn't insane. He knew right from wrong. It was the wrongness that gave him pleasure. Inside that evil, he felt alive. I knew he had no remorse, and would do it again, just as soon as he got a chance.

So, on that day on the courthouse steps, you might say I never did my job. That I cowardly stepped out of the way of the mad mob. I heard the verdict the same as anyone else. I heard the sentence come down: not guilty by reason of insanity. To be held in an institution for life. To be given pudding and cable television for the till the day he died while he gets to talk about his feelings and discuss with psychiatrists each kill in detail with that smile on his face. That wicked smile.

Whose job was it then? Yes, I'll freely admit I chose to send him out down the front steps of the courthouse instead of out the side entrance. The reason was because of the threats we heard. Some of the families of the victims were rumored to be planning to kill him. They were said to be waiting at the side entrance instead of near the front. Besides, it was a shorter walk down the courthouse stairs instead of out the side door and around to the van.

I know now that my assumption was wrong. How was I to know then that virtually every family member of his victims would be there? How was I to know that the entire police force, charged with his protection, would suddenly disappear at the right moment?

One minute there is an angry crowd, crashing against the fences and cops holding them at bay. The next moment, the tide turned. Those same people rushed through the fences and towards us. I tell you; I do not know who stole my keys, but if you watch the video tape closely, you'll see that I clearly never handed them to anyone. Nor my handcuffs. Nor my baton.

We found what remained of him later in that ancient, crumbling building that should have been holding the damp smell of decay instead held a scent that was almost sickeningly sweet. Like someone had put a hot dog on the grill just a few minutes too long. When I walked into the door, the scene was as mesmerizing as it was horrific. The blood was minimal. The blood was only minimal cause whoever had him cauterized every joint that they pulled off with a blow torch.

Charred remains had been strewn across the room as if someone casually tossed the pieces over their shoulder as they worked, like the discarded remains of a day-old dinner. Parts of him had been peeled and burned, crushed and burned. It was as if someone wanted to do to him every sick and twisted thing, he ever did to someone else.

Nothing in that small room was as disturbing as him though. And the smile that remained on his face through it all. That twiste, disgusting smile he took with him to his grave. I'll think about that smile for as long as I live. It will probably be the last thing I see when I close my eyes for good.

So go ahead, charge me with whatever you want. But I tell you, not only did I do my duty that day, I did a public service. So you can sit there with your judgemental stares and your smug little notes in that file. But you never had to stare into that face. That face of pure evil. And thanks to me, you never will. Or that demonic smile.