Schism

Chapter 33 part 2

Bryan stared down at his notebook as the D.A. droned on.  He kept it low and flipped through the pages, looked at all of his past notes about William.  He tried to tune out the speech as his eyes ran over the words, the scribbles.  He was close, felt the information forming into recognizable images in his mind.

He scanned across the flat of the paper, tried to take it in all at once.  He ran a hand across it, held the sheet and began to turn it.

The doctor had brought up the trans-rational last night.  This was something beyond the rational mind, something bigger.

It was something that wasn't flat.

He gripped the paper between two fingers.  It looked flat, but wasn't, not really.  It had depth, and if he folded it, it had more, it was easier to see.

He closed his eyes, saw the folds in the paper.  He had made them for his son.  Little origami paper cubes.

"Son of a bitch," he said.

Meyers, in front of him, turned around, eyebrow up in a question.

"Sorry."  Bryan closed his notebook and looked down at the floor.  That was it.  He started to connect more thoughts about William and the voices, let each realization lead him to the next.

He was pulled out of it by Rios' voice.  "What about all the bodies we've seen with covered over racist tattoos?"

Bryan looked up as D.A. Giles answered.  "We all know that those individuals have always been around.  They are spread all over the country."

Rios stayed on the attack.  "And yet most of the vigilante's victims appear to be members of some racist hate group.  How do you explain that?"

"We have no evidence of hate crimes in the city," Giles said.  "Except maybe by the vigilante himself.  He's targeting people who show some outward sign of anti-social tendencies.  Who could he turn on when he runs out of targets?  Is anyone who shaves their head going to be a target for this killer?"

"Run out of targets?" Rios' voice sounded strained.  "You're kidding, right?"

Bryan watched the two men.  Rios was in the middle of the crowd.  He expected the other detectives to step away, but they stayed close, gave their fellow officer a show of silent support.  Giles was alone at the head of the room.  Hayes had walked away from him at the beginning of the speech.  Giles folded his arms in front of his chest.  "What are you saying, Detective...?"

"Detective Sergeant Rios.  I'm saying we have no idea how many of these bastards are in the city.  It could be hundreds."

Giles looked over to the side.  Bryan tracked the movement and saw Hayes looking the other way, acting busy.  "Detective Sergeant, you're getting upset over speculation.  I agree that the situation in this city is difficult, made only worse by the appearance of this vigilante. But the fact is, there is no evidence to support allegations of hate crimes, racial violence or the presence of organized hate groups here."

Bryan saw Meyers start to fidget and tighten up in front of him.

"What about eyewitness reports by three homicide detectives from last night?" Rios asked.  "Will that do?"

Giles looked again at Hayes.  "I remember from the report that you were one of those witnesses, Detective Sergeant.  One of the officers who saw the vigilante and failed to apprehend him, I might note.  Tell me what exactly you saw that convinced you that you were witnessing a racially motivated attack.  Was it the burning cross in the yard?  The swastika flags?  The men in white sheets?"

Bryan watched Rios stand firm.  Meyers started to shake his head and didn't stop.

"That's right, there were none of those, were there?"  Giles looked like he had nailed a witness in court.  "I am as saddened and distressed by last night's events as anyone.  But there is just no evidence that this was anything other than a few teenagers acting out or some gang related retaliation."