D A Novel (George Right) - By George Right Page 0,96

As a twist of fate, when he was caught at last, his surname appeared to be Jackson. "Jack's son," literally...

However, actually he had almost nothing in common with the Victorian serial killer, except for his extreme cruelty. Jackson didn't kill prostitutes. There were no sexual motives in his actions and no motive of punishment for sins. On the contrary, only decent people were his victims. Gender and age were not significant to him. By the way, he even wasn't unsociable–quite the opposite, he willingly made new acquaintances, easily ingratiated himself with people, making impression of a nice and harmless, though a little sad, person–and then...

Before he was stopped, he managed to kill twenty eight people–eviscerated them alive. Sometimes, he killed whole families. The most shocking episode was in Philadelphia, where he murdered a man, his wife, his elderly parents who had come to stay for a while with their son, and three children–a boy of eight and girls of five and three. After that the public went nuts, demanding that the police find the murderer. And not even just find, but "wipe the bastard out before some lawyer rats get him off the hook...”

Yes, members of my profession are often reproached as immoral. They say that, for enough money we are ready to defend anybody. I cannot say that these claims are absolutely groundless–though, in my opinion, justice demands, that, as there is the prosecution side, there must also be a defense side. And we have professional ethics, too. But after all we are still human beings, not just professionals. Nobody in my law office wanted to take this case. And not because–well, not only because–there wouldn't be a hefty fee (Jackson refused to take a lawyer). Nor even because the case looked absolutely hopeless: the evidentiary basis was more than convincing, the police had committed no violations about which to complain, and Jackson had admitted full guilt to all the charges against him. But the main reason was that nobody really wanted to save such a freak from the electric chair. Yes, there are murderers, and even repeated murderers, who deserve leniency–but obviously not in this case.

And then the boss foisted this case off on me, as the youngest attorney in the firm. Say, it's your chance to prove yourself. And if you fail, well, nobody expected miracles from a beginner anyway...

No, I, of course, didn't feel much sympathy for my client. But, after all, a job is a job.

"Hello, Mr. Jackson," I professionally smiled, taking the laptop from my attache case and unfolding it on my side of the table."I am your lawyer. My name is Mike..."

"I refused a lawyer," Jackson dully interrupted. "Besides, the sentence was passed already. What more do you need from me?"

"You probably don't know yet, but there were recent changes to the state law," I explained in the same confident tone. "Now in hearings on all death sentence cases, the participation of a lawyer is obligatory. And as the law has no retroactive effect only if it would worsen the situation of the convict, your case is subject to review."

"So you think that will improve my situation," he grinned.

"To tell the truth, your situation is very serious," I declared, continuing nevertheless to radiate confidence. "All the evidence is against you and we have no basis to suggest..."

"I killed all these people," he interrupted me again."And, if there is a new hearing, I will repeat my confession there. So can we just avoid all this bother?"

"In a democratic state, a confession is not the final proof of guilt," I reminded him. "There could be circumstances which compelled you..."

"Do you have hearing problem or don't you understand English? Nobody compelled me, tortured me, or threatened me. I killed twenty eight people absolutely willfully and purposely. And I confessed to it of my same free will after my arrest."

"But not before!" I noticed." If you, as you say, didn't want to hide your crimes, why didn't you give yourself up?"

"Because I wanted to continue to kill," he simply answered.

Damn... Well, after all, that's my job.

"Could you explain, why did you... and why do you want to continue to kill, Mr. Jackson?"

"Because I am a monster who likes to disembowel people alive."

Certainly, it was said in the same tone as "be damned and fuck off." I tried to make my voice more heartfelt and looked into his eyes:

"But there is another reason, isn't there?"

He kept silent, trying to look indifferent as before, but nevertheless for an instant