Epilogue: After Them

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The quiet ones are always the chaotic minded. Isaiah believed that. There was a quote he had seen long ago, maybe in middle school, that said, "It's always the quiet ones." Nothing ever specified what it meant, so Isaiah put his own spin on it.

Isaiah was always quiet unless he was around someone he felt very comfortable with, but that was few. He wasn't quiet around Michael, nor Charles now. He's a loner by design. Spending time alone, or with his cat, is how he feels most comfortable. In some ways, he follows his own saying. He is a bit chaotic minded, and he'd admit to that if he was asked. He's not exactly right in the head. His mind is always wandering, it's usually gone somewhere else when he's trying to focus. 

It's rare someone is right in the head.

Let's see, how long had it been since the performance? A week. Even though it had seemed like a month to them all. Isaiah had been paying attention to the news ever since that night, waiting for something to come up. There wasn't much to be said, however. 

Almost every night Isaiah and his cat, Taco, would sit in his room and watch news updates on his laptop. A quality pet-owner bonding experience, I would say.
The only problem was that the local news played the same information over and over, and soon Isaiah got tired of hearing it. 

The Star-Crossed Killers. That was what some people called them. It was the first name they were called by the media. After that came The Richland Killers, Johnnie and Clyde, and he especially hated Teenage Maniacs. I mean, that one is just too vague. 
The three kills were titled The Richland Hills Murders, not surprisingly. The deaths of Luke Grass, Aiden Rorek, and his father, Jerry Rorek. All of the details were already on Wikipedia. Isaiah didn't know who put them there, but he knew it'd happen soon enough. 

Every time a mugshot or court picture of Trent appeared on his computer screen, Taco would meow at it, as if he recognized him. When Drake would pop up, Taco would look at the picture curiously, admiring it from different angles, tilting his head. Isaiah didn't think he fully recognized Drake from his mugshot. He looked like a completely different person.
His was paler than normal, and his hair was down in his face instead of fixed. His eyes were darker than they usually were, still blue but there was less color. They weren't as full and interested as they used to be; they were tired and relieved. Calm.

The gist of the news report said that they would have separate trials, and they both would have psychological evaluations before their individual days in court. Judging from what Isaiah already knew about psych evaluations in law, they would be given a questionnaire and interviewed, then assessed. He hoped that they both could qualify for an insanity plea. 

Nobody exactly knew what would happen to the two fo them, not even all-law-knowing Isaiah. Michael didn't know either, but he wanted them to get the easiest punishment possible. Charles wanted the same. They talked to each other on a regular basis, texting and sometimes e-mailing.

The trial was a week after they were arrested; a few days after their evaluation. On that day, they had to testify. Michael, Charles, Ryan, and Isaiah. They were all to testify for their friends' mental health and their crimes. 
They would tell the truth, about their parts, even if Trent and Drake didn't want them to. 

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Isaiah wore a grey suit with a black tie, what he called his 'detective look'. With his glasses, he looked like a naive law student whose ambition was bigger than his charisma. That was kind of accurate. His senior schedule plan contained the advanced law courses he could take, one that was like an internship with an actual lawyer. The only problem was that it was a general practice lawyer; not a criminal lawyer. That was a good starting point, though.

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