Micah Jennings

2.10.05 Thursday [Ella revisited]

I’m done.

I’m tired beyond words, but I am actually done. Ella Peterson was my final delivery. Like the thirteen others before her, I had planned on sneaking in and leaving the cash. But as I approached, I recalled how difficult it had been to ‘sneak’ in the first time, and how I’d eventually resorted to breaking a window. I wasn’t about to do that again. In any case, it was late, and she was certain to be home. So, not wanting to cause further problems and sensing that my end is inevitable, I decided to do the unthinkable.

Bag in hand, I approached her gate and buzzed the intercom system.
“Yes?” a tinny voice asked after a few moments. “Who is it?”
“My name is Micah Jennings. You defended my mom in a case several years ago. I was wondering if we could talk.”
Silence.
“Well, I’m in the middle of dinner…what is this about?”
“It’s kind of a long story, but… basically I have something that belongs to you.”
A few more moments passed, followed by the groan of metallic gears as her gate peeled open.

As I approached the porch her door flung open. She watched me curiously.
“Who did you say you were again?” She asked.
“Micah Jennings. My mom’s name was Lisa.“
“Lisa Jennings... Was that the custody case? Wait, no, I remember you now! One of the few I lost…”
“Yes, but I don’t blame you, Ms. Peterson.”
“That’s good to hear. You were very upset that day when the verdict came though. I was frustrated that I couldn’t do more for you, but—“
“No, no. You shouldn’t be.”
“I shouldn’t?”
I shook my head slowly. Already a knot was beginning to bulge in my throat. “Funny thing is…turns out…she was guilty all along.”
Ella looked at me consolingly, but admitted:
“I had trouble believing in your mother’s innocence myself. She seemed clean enough when we were consulting, but in the court…there was so much evidence against her. The prosecution knew it. The judge felt it. The jurors…they just saw it. But the effect that had on you—the innocent child in the middle of it all; it’s for YOU I regret not doing more.”
“It was difficult,” I said. “For a long time I despised everyone that helped put my mom away.”
“Was I on that list?”
“At the end of it, yes.” I handed her the bag. She peeked inside and withdrew the bundles of cash carefully.
“That’s all of it. $7,800.”
“You…You were the one? Are you the same thief that’s been—“
“Yeah, that’s me. Targeted the jury, the prosecution…you.”
“And now you’re giving it back?”
“When I learned the truth, I couldn’t keep it. It was difficult enough trying to justify it without the facts.”
“I don’t know what to say…this is unbelievable…Thank you for returning it.”
I didn’t think it right to acknowledge her appreciation when I was merely giving back what was hers, so I walked silently away gate as she studied me with apparent awe. Before I reached the gate I remembered something and called back:
“By the way, I might be looking you up in the near future.”

And now I wait. I wait for the sirens and the thudding footsteps, or the battering ram splintering our apartment door. My time is nearly up, but I am no longer worried. I’m ready, calmly, for the end.

-M.J.

posted by Mr. Linty @ 12:18 AM