The Shooter

the back wall. There was a small sofa and two armchairs, covered in a faded green plaid, and in the corner an upright piano stood, solemn and quiet, and in the opposite corner, a humble TV sat waiting for its moment to stir to life.
As Mary-Louise slipped from the room I sat on the edge of the sofa, hunched over and trying to shrink down and make myself seem smaller in the tiny living space. Casey looked over to me and I could tell that we were both having the same thought: Don’t let it be these people.
Not these people with their warm home and family pictures and a feeling of sadness hanging over everything. These people who are good and whole and deserve the life they’ve worked so hard to build.
Don’t let it be them.
Mary-Louise returned and behind her was a waif of a girl, her hair pulled back, her eyes sunken with dark circles, her sweatpants loose and hanging off her small frame.
“This is Jenny,” she said.
Jenny nodded her greeting. She was in her early-twenties, petite, and delicate. It looked like the wind could knock her over, and she looked like she hadn’t left the house in days.
Everyone sat except for Andrew, who stood behind his wife, staunch and silent. I made a mental note of the fact that Jenny and Mary-Louise were far too small to have taken on a man of Waltz’s size.
“We’re sorry to open all of this back up again. We know you’ve been through a lot over the last twelve months,” Casey started. Jenny refused to look up. “We’re not sure if you’ve heard yet, but Anthony Waltz is dead.”
At the sound of his name, Jenny flinched, and she gripped her fists tightly. Mary-Louise’s eyes widened slightly but Andrew didn’t flinch.
“I heard on the news on my way home from work,” he said, his voice flat.
“What?” Mary-Louise whipped her head around to look at him. “Why didn’t you… you didn’t say anything.”
Andrew looked at his wife. “I didn’t want Jenny to hear. She doesn’t need any more reminders.”
Jenny moved one hand to her mouth and started to bite on the skin around the nail.
“What happened?” Mary-Louise asked, her eyes still on her husband.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Casey replied, and smiled again to put the room at ease. “We wondered if you could tell me the last time you saw him?”
“Well, it was during…” Mary-Louise struggled, the name of the man accused of assaulting her daughter just wouldn’t pass her lips, “his trial. We needed… I know they call it closure. We wanted justice. I think that’s what we were hoping for. But to be honest, it didn’t feel like it closed anything at all. Jenny didn’t come. Jenny hasn’t really left the house after dark since… well, for quite some time. She won’t even see her friends, but she’s engaged now. She just doesn’t like to be away from the safety of the house.” She turned around and looked up at Andrew. “That was the last time we saw Anthony Waltz, representing that awful, vile man. Wasn’t it, Andrew?” She waited a beat for a response but received nothing from the man behind her. “Andrew?” she asked again, and reached up to place her hand over his.
“Actually, Mary-Louise, I saw him after that. A few days ago.” The confession came as a surprise to Mary-Louise and she physically recoiled. “The detective on the case, he called me, to apologize about everything that happened, and said that the DNA evidence they’d collected wasn’t as good as the forensic analyst had declared. They’d misrepresented the facts to make the evidence seem to fall heavier against the defendant and Waltz had blown it wide open, negating all the forensic evidence on the case. The detective called me, out of guilt maybe, to say sorry…” At this, Jenny slowly rose from her armchair and left the room without a word or a glance to anyone. Andrew’s shoulders slumped. “And so, I got all stirred up. I went to see him. I went to see Waltz, I wanted to appeal to him, man to man. Father to perhaps future father, tell him that I no longer had two daughters, I had lost one. She may be here physically, but she isn’t the same Jenny. I wanted him to reverse all the wrong that he’d done.” The sadness was replaced with a quiet, simmering anger. There were veins at his temple now that were not visible earlier. It was helplessness mixed with resentment.
“I understand, Mr. Carpenter,” I said, finally choosing my time to be a part of the interview. “There’s no job on this earth more important than being a parent. I can’t say I’ve had the honor, but I can only imagine the responsibility that comes with it. The burden you must have to carry for the rest of your life that it’s your job to keep your children safe. It must weigh heavily during times like these.”
Andrew nodded, encouraged. “I thought Waltz would be on our side, and he’d turn over everything he’d done. I thought he’d understand. I thought he’d understand our quest for justice. I actually thought he might be a decent human being. I just thought he’d appreciate my appeal… but I was so wrong.”
“What happened when you went to see him?” I asked.
“Oh, Anthony Waltz tried to act like he cared, he tried to placate me, and tell me all this cock and bull about it being his duty to uphold the law. I mean, the law? He actually said that. But shouldn’t the law be protecting the innocent? Shouldn’t the law protect my Jenny, whose only sin was to use the fire escape instead of the elevator during her break because she was on a fitness regime?” Andrew’s hands clenched the back of the sofa. “I got angry.