My Brother's Keeper

Too late the morning

Flower frozen in night ice,

Grieving garden's sun.

"What's this supposed to mean?"

"It's a haiku."

"Need I remind you I'm the warden and you're the prisoner? Do you want to come clean on this or not?"

"Come clean how?"

"Writing is a privilege. They say we have to give you privileges but we can take them away too."

"I'm completely lost. Writing is a strain, it's very hard."

"Hard for you? How about your eight victims? How about their families? How hard is it for them? How would they feel to see you glorying in their pain?"

"That isn't about them."

"It's not? I can read the homonyms here. English was my major - unfortunately for you. 'Morning' should be 'mourning' and 'sun' should be 'son'. This is you mocking one of your victim's death."

"It's about me. Each night I die. After what I've done, how can there be hope? I killed because I was dead inside. But I only dug the hole deeper."

"Is that what the psychiatrist told you to say? I've heard all that crap before. If you want sympathy and forgiveness you're not going to get it here. You want to meet God? You're looking at him. I own your life. You see, I am my brother's keeper. And redemption is not to be had for a killer like you."

"I can give no argument. Everything is black."

"As black as a buried coffin, no doubt."

"I don't know what else to do. I'm not saying my writing has any value. I don't know what choice I have but to try and crawl back to the light. I'm not saying I deserve it."

"I'll be the judge of what you deserve. It is I who divines justice. There's a reason why I go home to a warm bed at night and you to a cold cell. Seems I need to make you understand that."

For good people only

"I understand I did my crimes."

"No! No! I don't think so. You are in my charge by the authority granted to me by God. I can do no wrong. But a slithering snake like you must stay in the dark - as dark as your victims' graves. That's what you need to understand."

"I'm lost, just trying to find my way. Sometimes, when I write, I feel I've done something. That I've made a connection. I'm not God. I have no way of knowing. It's probably wishful thinking. But it keeps pouring out of me."

"Filth! That's what keeps pouring out of you. I've been reading it for the past six months. And just for the record, I am God and know what is worthy and what is not. And I'm telling you, this is not."

"How can I know?"

"I'll show you how. Hanssen! Bring me a lighter." The guard stepping forward obliged from his front pocket. "I'm going to burn this notebook of yours and that will be the end of this now and forever. Through these flames I purify and make the world a better place. Now back to your cell!"

Hanssen spoke after the prisoner departed through the heavy metal door. "I thought you said one of your old writing contacts reviewed that notebook and thought it to be "shatteringly honest"."

"Yeah, so?"

"I though you was bringing him in here to let him know."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"I dunno. Because it's the truth?"

"The truth! The truth is he's a killer and must be made to suffer."

"I thought vengeance is the Lord's."

"Did I not say that by divine right I sit here? The Lord's vengeance comes through me. Do you want him to turn into some sort of successful writer after what he's done? How could there be justice in that? I am a stalwart of the Good Book. I am my brother's keeper."

"But you're not supposed to be, right? Nobody owns nobody, I always says."

"I don't know where you get that nonsense from but it's got to stop. You've got everything backwards, Hanssen. I own that bastard and every other prisoner in this place. How else would I be allowed to do that but by the grace of God?"

"Maybe God's got nothing to do with it and it's just people letting you do it."

"Enough of your idiocy! I don't have time to educate you. The total tonnage of what you don't know could fill a mountain. End of discussion."

Hanssen shuffled his feet. "Well, I know what I felt."

The warden by this time was writing with his head down, having already mentally dismissed Hanssen. "Nobody cares what you feel..."

"I guess that's good then, 'cause all I could help feeling when you was burning that book was 'Too late the morning.'"

A Tale Of Two Criminals

This will sound crazy but it all started with me thieving this penknife. Still got it, I do. But me whole life went down the toilet in a chain reaction. I was just a kid then but even so I didn't see no future in dark Liverpool. Anything I got I had to make myself, I knew. It's tough like that, just you against the world, making your own way not giving thoughts to what folks thinks is right.

I had me a sometimes running mate named Johnny. He's the only one what got the nerve I has. Neither of us thought twice of shoplifting what we wanted. The world didn't think nothin' of us, we didn't think much of it either. Expectin' them to hand you somethin' is the surest way to get stuffed. Me and Johnny wasn't gonna let that happen.

But Johnny boy, he was of a different sort. He not let nothing possess him! So he shows off his new knife to everybody, using it like he sees fit till his aunt who he's living with sees it and busts him. She takes him by the ear back to the store, making him say he's sorry. But that Johnny, there's no stopping him! He nabs a candy bar all the while and our whole gang was laughing. "This time I'm safe," he says, "I ate the evidence!" We was just rolling about the place.

But that was Johnny, always doing what he wanted no matter what. He went on to be famous with his rock and roll, still just doing what he wanted. But me, I was having none of that. I got me knife and no way was I going to get busted. I kept it secret and I kept it mine - no matter what. Looking back, I was awful dumb. I didn't own that knife - it owned me.

Secrets are like chains. You ain't free - and you think you got a right reason not to be free. Like me. I had a good reason now for lying. Thing is I never stopped lying. Me and Johnny went separate ways after he took his knife back. What was common between us was gone. I still respected his nerve but we was seeing the other guy as dangerous. I started thinking the less of me but I'd of never admitted it. I wasn't admittin' nothin'!

I could blame a lot on bad luck but when you take a wrong turn bad shit is bound to happen. Kumar, that Indian, thinks he can mouth off to me. We English never shoulda freed them damn Indians. He was always worrying about what other people was thinking and he hates I stole that penknife. He's probably still out there trying to please mommy and daddy. But when he threatens to narc on me, well, he got what was coming to him.

I hadn't been in a fight before. Kumar just brought out the worst in me. My ma was all like, "How could you!" like a shot somebody or something. Pissed me off her taking it so damn hard! I shoulda learn then if I'd been thinking. She'd been lot less angry over the penknife if I'd been busted for that than for the fighting. Plus I'd be free too. So by trying not to get in trouble for one thing I got in more trouble for another!

But I wasn't thinking like that. I was thinking Kumar was the source of me troubles. And that means you gotta fight. Anytime after that I had any trouble I used me fists. I was thinking I had to like it was life and death. That one little secret steamrolled on me. I was convinced solid if you couldn't get away with nothin' in life you was doomed. Just shut up the Kumars of the world and you'd be fine. Trouble was there's always one more Kumar.

I was gifted as a burglar. What was crippling to me in school was a blessing on the outside. Having always to figure things out for yourself makes the holes in other people show up like x-rays. To every building there's a psychology. I got real good at reading that and things just sort of fell into place. I was respected by my peers. But I was walking a tightrope.

For a while there I was on top. Walking down the street with all them suckers slaving away. I felt dumber than them in school cause I couldn't think the way the teachers wanted me to. But now I sees them as the idiots. Damn them for conning me! What a terrible thing to do to a child. Ate me alive. I just had to feel like I could get away something. It proved I was worthwhile.

Even the secrets got to be like familiar friends. With every job I was adding to the heap. Didn't need no drugs, that was its own natural high. "Normal" people was beyond boring. They didn't have nothin' to say! I was watching Johnny from afar, proud of him still sticking it to them, tellin' them to rattle their jewelry. Priceless! I was hoping Johnny would be just as proud of me too making my own way. The world is a criminal enterprise, yes sir.

It wasn't the stealing that made me a criminal. I never had no guilt about that. Some did, some didn't. Those that did didn't last every long. I called them "Kumars". Weak-brained, never taking a stand. But what did get me was the idea of getting caught. That penknife secret was still with me - not that I was ever much conscious about it. All I knew was I had to be free. But I couldn't just leave well enough alone.

It's not bad luck finding a dame. I have to keep reminding myself that. Me burgling had me feeling smart but how would that play with her? I had me convinced I was worthwhile but if the love of my life shot me down I'd never survive it. Wasn't until too late I find out she believed in me and understood what I had to do. I wanted to believe that, I wanted to believe with all me heart. I just didn't have the guts to find out. So I repeats that same pattern of spending a thousand trying to get out of paying a hundred. It really hurts bad saying all this.

One of things I remember when I was pounding Kumar was thinking, "You ain't white. You don't count like I do." I should have growed out of that because I know it's dumb. But really, I was just looking for an excuse for what I'd done. I'd never made peace with it. Never told him I was sorry. That was one thing Johnny had more guts than me. He'd say he's sorry, even if it did take a while. Guess what I'm trying to say is this all played into me killing Julio.

Julio wasn't going to rat me out. It was more of that "bad luck". His sister was dating a cop and he had these immigration troubles and...well, I took two and two and came up with five. I couldn't let go of it, I was counting on the lies to save me. I feared going to jail, away from the love of my life. Without the missing of her I might have been able to handle it but me head was spinning and I was taking no chances. I shot him during a job and went on the lam. I told myself maybe they wouldn't be so angry cause Julio wasn't white.

But there wasn't no place to run to, not in the whole of the world. Julio's sister ended up marrying that cop and he made it his personal mission to hound me. More bad luck. The longer I stayed un-captured the more I had to lie. The more I had to lie the less free I was. Then I heard a Johnny song saying, "One thing I can tell you is you got to be free." Much as it hurt, I had to face up to me crimes if I ever wanted to be free. Wish I'd realized that when it was just a chewing out for boosting a penknife.

For being a slow learner I got 14 years. I wrote my love a few times but she didn't respond. Now I just write her in me head, when I'm lying down at night still wasting life trying to explain myself. How do I let go of this deep secret? I thought I wasn't good enough. I hoped that a valid reason to lie. I know this will sound crazy but I could have been an honest burglar. I just didn't want to give up my excuses. I really just wanted to live, is all.