She Is Risen (She Is Risen: The Gun Control Case Studies) (13 page)

            “Ned, let it go!”  Sally demands, reaching for
the rope. 

            Ned turns his back on his lover, continuing to
roll the rope into a neat circular formation.  He then places it carefully
under the bed as if performing an important ceremony.  Sally watches him with
tears streaming down her face, never having seen him so vulnerable.  For the
first time in their six-month relationship, Ned puts his hands on his knees and
begins to cry, rocking back and forth as the pain overwhelms him.

            “It’s okay, baby!” Sally whispers in a
comforting manner as she pulls his head to her breasts.  “We’re going to help
you get through this..!  It’s going to be okay!”

The OBDAT - Chicago

            “That bitch!” Lorabell shouts suddenly as she
watches Sally comforting Ned on the LCD display.  “We’ll have to get rid of
her; she’s going to be a problem.”

            Maxwell turns to look at his new boss in stunned
silence, somewhat ashamed at her lack of humanity in this moment.  Lorabell
glares at him, her eyes somewhat dark from working over fourteen hours after
only three hours of sleep.  She takes a swig of her coffee, looking defiantly
up at Sally from the control panel of the OBDAT.  Her fingers grip the coffee
cup tighter as she considers this whimsical threat to her success.

            “What kind of woman stands there in support of a
man who is bawling like a little bitch?”  She asks Maxwell, not waiting for a
reply.  “Rogers tied the noose and got out of the house just in time.  The
girlfriend should have seen him for the screwed up, broken down piece of dog’s
ass that he is!”

            “Well, maybe in Texas people don’t give up on
each other as easily…” Maxwell says with a shrug, still showing concern for her
lack of empathy.

            “Fuck Texas!” Lorabell barks back at him.  “She
has to go!”

            “Hey, I’m from Texas!” A technician shouts from
the server room below.

            “Get back to work; it was just a figure of
speech!” Lorabell sets down her coffee cup and folds her arms, feeling suddenly
overwhelmed by Henri’s deadline, and the burden of causing these people
distress.

            “We need to get rid of the girlfriend; he needs
to be alone…” Lorabell suggests to Maxwell, raising her eyebrows as if to ask
for feedback.  “Our job is to make him feel so alone that all he has left… is
his pistol.”

            “Whatever you say, boss.” Maxwell responds with
slight irritation.  “I’m sure you know what’s best.”

            “Tell Agent Rogers that we need to recruit
another asset in Texas… ASAP!”  Lorabell orders with increased arrogance, due
partially to her exhaustion, bad cramps, and the new position of authority.  

JULIA WELHEIM:

            “Awesome Mom!”  Julia reads aloud, gazing down
with her piercing brown eyes at a faded bumper sticker on the back of her dusty,
white minivan. 

            She leans against the back of the van, picking
up dust on the front of her light blue sweatshirt, consumed by the desperation
to hug something…to be close to anything.  Julia is swarmed by a torrent of
emotions, tearing at her as though a tornado is swirling inside her head. 
After a few moments of this empty embrace, she stands up tall in her white
cargo shorts, pushing away from the van.  Her face is pale and wrinkled, more
than most Florida residents, and she is thin for a woman of forty-six.

            The anger soon fades in a jovial instant of
psychosis, and she has a sudden spark of optimism.  With an unhealthy, happy
smile, she walks quickly back through the side door into her small home from
the garage.  Her pink running shoes make neat tracks across the tiles as she
strides with purpose through the kitchen. 

            “I need to do my hair.” Julia announces to
herself, grabbing at the mess of brown locks pulled up into a chaotic bun. 
“John’s not going to like me if my hair is a mess.”

            She steps lively over the faded kitchen tiles,
surfing on a high of intense assumptions.  Her face bears a grin of
anticipation as she looks at the small digital clock on her way through the
living room to the soft, carpeted stairs. 

            “It’s five-thirty,” she says with a lighthearted
grin, “John will be home in an hour.  Time to start making dinner, but first I
need to fix my hair.”

            Her heart rises with each stair step toward
their cozy bedroom, the gentle ascent torturing her soul with pleasant memories. 
Julia looks at the sunlight coming through the home with immense affection, knowing
exactly the angle of the light beams when John would return home with Sammy. 
She puts her hand on the smooth cedar railing leading up to the bedroom,
excited by the thought of John’s strong hands caressing her body, leading up to
a warm embrace.

            When she reaches the top of the stairs, Julia
freezes in place.  Her eyes are fixed on a television cart with an old
twenty-seven inch, tube TV on top, and a DVD player on the shelf below.  She
squeezes her eyes somewhat, squinting at a small yellow note taped to the front
of the cart that reads:  ‘A message from John.’

            As she reads the note, Julia smiles wide,
showing off exposed, receding gums and a few missing teeth.  She turns on the
power to the television and the DVD player, listening to the slight static
flicker and watching the small green LEDs shining from the control panels of
each.  The DVD player is flashing 12:00 pm as Julia presses the play button and
waits for John’s message to play with humble enthusiasm.

              Her smile is immediately wiped away as she
sees an older man sitting at a fancy, wooden desk on the television screen.  He
is dressed in a gray suit with a simple red tie and white button-down shirt. 
The man is mostly bald save for a ring of gray hair around his head.  He smiles
wide with his portly face, peering lovingly at the camera from his blue eyes
with his hands clasped together on the desk in front of him.  Julia bears a
look of confusion and betrayal, listening intently as the man begins to speak.

            “Hello, Julia, I’m Doctor Wellsly, your
therapist,” the man begins in a comforting manner that makes Julia eerily
uncomfortable, “this video is here to help you with a technique called
repetitive assimilation.  I know you’re probably watching this thinking that
John is going to be home soon…  You probably thought this video was some type
of romantic message from him.  Let me explain what is happening in your mind,
and what has been happening for years…  Julia, first, you are a very sweet
lady, and you deserve so much warmth and compassion in your life, so please
know that- with the things I am about to tell you.  Julia… a long time ago,
when you were twenty-five-years-old, your neighbor was peeping through your
windows while you were getting dressed in the bedroom.  You had been diagnosed
paranoid schizophrenic at the time, but treatment was going well.” 

Doctor Wellsly reaches up and
scratches his bald head with his left hand, showing a look of regret before he
continues.  “Unfortunately… the neighbor was a very creepy person, and he sent
you over the edge into a psychotic episode, rendering you in a primal state…
where you picked up a kitchen knife to defend yourself.  Although you were
justified in defending your privacy, all that the neighbors saw was an angry,
naked woman chasing her neighbor with a carving knife.  This… caused some
problems between you and John… and it led to a more severe episode… that
required hospitalization.”

Julia begins to cry as she listens
to the doctor, looking confused and destroyed as his words pour down on her
like a cruel hailstorm.  She leans against the cedar railing, feeling a swath
of angry emotions digging at her; a veritable hornet’s nest of stinging
memories coming to the surface.

            “You tried to kill yourself, Julia, and Sammy
was in the home at the time.  What happened next is beyond me… and perhaps I
should leave this part out, but you need to hear it from someone who cares about
you.  Sweet lady, Julia…  John married your younger sister Evelyn, and they
moved away to Baltimore over ten years ago…”

            Julia puts her right hand over her mouth in a
panicked silence, staring with wide brown eyes at the horrible message coming
from the television.

            “It’s a lie!” Julia declares, glaring defiantly
into the television.  “He gave me the sticker that says awesome mom...” Tears
emerge quickly on her cheeks, and a small stream of drool drips toward the
floor as the renewed pain enters her consciousness.  “Evelyn stole my husband
and my baby… My little Sammy!  Please, God, why are you doing this to me!?  WHY
DO YOU HAVE TO TEST ME SO HARD!?  I PROMISE NOT TO GET NAKED WHERE ANYONE CAN
SEE ME! I SWEAR TO YOU, GOD, I WON’T LET ANYONE SEE ME! Just give me my Sammy
back…”

            Julia crouches to the floor, holding her left
hand against her forehead and rocking spastically, sobbing with intense agony. 

            “So the reason why you keep forgetting these
things, Julia, is that you have a hard time making new memories since your
suicide attempt.”  The doctor continues on the television as if someone is
calmly listening to him.  “In your mind, you and John made love the night
before, and you are waiting for him to come home and cook dinner, but your
sister stopped by… and told you about the affair because John was too much of a
coward.  This triggered your suicide attempt, and it’s created a loop of
thoughts and emotions that has been running through your mind ever since. 
Please call me at 555-333-2444 so that we can talk about this.  I am always
here to help you!  Again, my number is 555-333-2444.  I am Doctor Wellsly; a
friend who has been helping you for years.  Please give me a call, sweet lady,
or go to the emergency room if you are in severe need…  I’m so sorry, Julia,
please call me so that I can help 555-333-2444.”

            The video ends in a black screen with the phone
number displayed in white text.  Julia grabs the railing to pull herself up
from the floor; she has a deep sadness about her now as she shuffles to the
master bedroom.  Once she steps into her old room, the memories of John are
still fresh, making the sting of betrayal that much more intimate.  Julia is
embattled with suffocating thoughts as she steps over to the bed and sits down
on the soft, padded mattress.  She looks at the shiny white phone on the
nightstand near her, remembering the number from the television screen. 
Without hesitation, her hand darts out to the cold, plastic phone, pulling it
from the cradle and turning it over to punch in the number, before placing the
receiver delicately against her ear.

            After a few seconds of silence, there are three
tones that grow louder as they play and a monotone, female voice says, “we’re
sorry, but the number you have dialed is not in service.”

            “No… No! No!” Julia hangs up the phone and
frantically dials again, feeling the desperate need to connect with another
person.

            “We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is
not in service.”  The cold, robotic voice repeats.

            Julia drops the phone on the floor, allowing it
to screech in rhythmic, electric pulses on the carpet.  She lies back on the
bed in an almost catatonic state, waiting for the nightmare to pass and bring
forth a new tomorrow from yesterday.

The OBDAT - Chicago

            “Can we claim that 333 phone number?” Lorabell
asks with a stoic resentment that is directed up toward the LCD monitors as she
watches Julia in her frozen state of anguish.

            “Why?  What are you going to do to her?” 
Maxwell admonishes with suspicion, looking at Lorabell like a young girl who
has been allowed to play with a bag of deadly fireworks, lacking vital adult
supervision.

            “We’re going to study her… that’s our fucking
job!”  Lorabell declares with exhausted frustration and a disappointed glare. 
“I have every intention of helping this woman,” she continues, “but we can’t
get funding to help them until the study is complete.  Henri promised that
we’ll be able to help all of these people later.”

            “Right,” Maxwell replies with a smirk, “Henri’s
promises…  And if Henri were the Tooth Fairy, every child would wake up with
dog shit under their pillow.”

            “Whatever… I don’t have time…” Lorabell sighs
dismissively before regaining her clout.  “I need a gift basket put together,
and an agent on standby.  Also, we need to get that DVD… It’s keeping her
somewhat stable.”

            “This is stable!?”  Maxwell asks incredulously,
pointing at the screen with a face full of doubt.  “How the hell is that
stable?”

            “Look, I need you to help with tech; psychology
is my department, and you’ll just have to trust me.”  She retorts with
dignified fury.

            “That works for me,” Maxwell states, “whatever
happens to them… is on you!  Now, what other assets do you need?”

            Maxwell’s words hit Lorabell broadside like a
reckless pickup truck stampeding through midday traffic.

            “What happened with the doctor?” Lorabell asks,
pretending not to hear his last comment.