Ashley's Asylum (3)

22 | Ashleys Asylum

A police escort out of the hospital would make anyone feel special. As soon as Ashley was discharged, SIO C.Johnson came to collect and whisk her down to the station. He tried to make polite conversation but there was a hostile barrier preventing any sincerity from entering his tone.

She endured a very long interview in which she was cross-examined by two of very intense officers. She could sense their suspicion, in fact, they made little attempt to hide it from her. It laced every question they asked her, probing for loopholes, trying for slip-ups but Ashley had had her time in the hospital to think it all over. Her statement of events was solid enough. Four days and five nights had been spent by her thinking long and hard about what she would and wouldn't tell the police. For the most part, she said the truth, but there were some things she altered and some she omitted entirely. It helped that they provided her with a representative who advised her on what questions she should and shouldn't respond to, although for the most part Ashley was glad to offer an answer. Total transparency was a form of innocence and she aimed to appear as upfront as possible.

It was hard going and induced one hell of a migraine, but for the most part, Ashley's story was foolproof. At no point did she stray so far from the truth that she'd stitch herself up and there was no mention of a lie detector test to challenge her. By the end of the interview, Ashley felt believed, or at least more so than she had feared when she was stood in the middle of a wood, with a hostage tending to one serial killer, whilst another was tied up like a prized buck in a stolen car. She cried frequently throughout the interrogation, out of embarrassment, grief and the constant overwhelming relief that she wasn't with them anymore. Unbeknownst to the officers, she felt the most anguish when she reflected upon the reality that her freedom could be lost again in the near future.

In truth Ashley could have spent a lot longer at the station, a place even Michael wasn't mad enough to infiltrate.

The media awaited her outside the station when she was eventually released. Camera's flashed aggressively from all angles, every snap felt like a violation and made violent thoughts stir up inside her. They all shouted over one another, pushing and shoving like cattle, belting out obscene questions in an attempt to snare a bite out of her. She tried to remember they were just reporters looking for the best angles on a hot story but every question hit her deep and it aroused a poisonous resentment in her towards their well-groomed faces.

These bottom feeders wanted to see her squirm, they wanted her anguish and her trauma to be captured on camera for the whole world to see. How would they paint her to their avid watchers, as the serial killer's sister, a tragic victim or an accessory to Hanz and Wilton's recent crimes? Some of them seemed to think she had been violated, those questions were the worst. It was all over rather quickly as she sunk into the back seat of the car, shielded by officers who pushed the reporters and their cameras back but it hadn't ended quick enough. They made her feel dirty.

Her body sunk down in the seat, but her spirit sunk down much further, weighted by the insensitive questions thrown at her and the answers only she knew. Were you raped like the other victims? Are you a suspect in the escape of the Casanovas? Did you know Michael Wilton was your half brother? Any comment to the families of the girls they've killed?

The officers mumbled apologies but the damage was already done. The police didn't suspect her as deeply as she'd feared but that feeling wasn't reflected by the public. She was a freak show and no matter how fast they drove for her home, it couldn't alter the fact those people knew where she lived. Ashley prayed they wouldn't do this outside her home. Hadn't she been through enough without these headline sharks chasing after her? Still, it was better to be stalked by journalists then certain others, or at least that's what she hoped.