Undermind: Nine Stories (5 page)

“We’re going to head over right now and see if
he has an alibi for this,” the officer resumed

“What about the assault on me earlier
today?”

“He had an alibi for that,” the officer
responded.

“Great. Well, I’m glad I have a gun now since
he’s going to be even more pissed off after giving you his new
alibi. I don’t believe this.”

“Please don’t think about taking the law into
your own hands. It would be best if you put the shotgun in a safe
and dial 9-1-1 if you have any trouble. This isn’t the movies, Mr.
Parsons.”

“Right,” Dave said. “I’ll just lay in the
smoking ruins of my house with the stitches in my head and give you
guys a call to come out and take a third report if he does
something else. Maybe next time the coroner can join in the
fun.”

***

Dave and Nikki spent that night at a local
motel. The next morning they talked to Joy and accepted her
invitation to stay with her while dealing with their insurance
company and various contractors until their house was habitable
again. They felt relatively safe at Joy’s although Dave was sure
that if Ron Mackey had more vengeance in mind, he could probably
find them.

He waited to hear back from the police after the
new round of questioning, but no one contacted him. When he called
the police department for an update, hoping to hear that Ron had
been arrested for at least arson, if not also attempted murder, he
got nowhere. His calls were ultimately transferred to a voice
mailbox for the officer in charge of the investigation.

Dave lived in constant fear, but did not reveal
this to Nikki. Not at first. He didn’t want her to be as afraid and
worried as he was. He acted as though he had faith in the police
and the legal system. Since he had been assaulted while leaving a
job, he was terrified it would happen again and so he postponed all
of his appointments indefinitely. He found it nearly impossible to
get to sleep because the slightest sound anywhere in the house
seemed to be a confirmation that they were under assault.

The shotgun allowed for a measure of confidence
in being able to defend himself and his family, but he felt
incredibly vulnerable whenever he left Joy’s house and had nothing
but a new cell phone for defense, so he started the process of
purchasing a handgun. The salesman at the gun store told him he had
to fill out a form, pass a federal background check, and that there
was a state imposed waiting period.

Dave found the form to be laughable. It relied
on him giving honest answers to questions such as, are you under
indictment for a felony, are you mentally ill, are you a fugitive,
are you a drug addict, and so on. Would anyone actually answer
“yes” and thus sabotage their attempt to make a purchase? If so,
why bother going to into a gun store to begin with? It didn’t make
sense to him. Only the most extremely honest, and perhaps stupid
person who didn’t know the laws but had every intention of obeying
them would disqualify himself and leave empty-handed.

“I guess drug-dealers, serial killers, and
assassins lie on these forms?” Dave asked the salesman.

The man laughed at Dave’s question.

“What?” Dave asked, smiling and wanting to know
what was so funny.

“Criminals don’t buy their guns in stores,” he
said, nearly doubling over now in laughter.

It immediately became clear to Dave how stupid
his question was now that he looked at it from a different
perspective. It made perfect sense that criminals would not subject
themselves to legal scrutiny while acquiring tools to be used for
committing crimes. Dave did not have much interest in politics and
didn’t consider himself to be either left or right on such issues.
He was peripherally aware that there were constant calls for
additional gun laws to reduce crime, but he’d never given much
thought to the issue. As he considered it now as one who was
attempting to purchase a firearm, it seemed ludicrous to think that
laws were going to affect criminals.

“If criminals don’t buy their guns in stores and
go through background checks, then all of these laws don’t do
anything except prevent unqualified honest people from buying
guns,” Dave thought aloud.

“Yep,” the salesman replied.

“I must be missing something here.”

“Whattaya mean?”

“Well, there’s a big roaring debate in this
country between opposing sides. The NRA people against the
gun-control people. But you’re telling me the whole thing is
actually pointless.”

“No, I wouldn’t say pointless. Let’s say a guy
gets dumped by his girl and his first reaction is to wanna kill
himself. He might feel a bit different about it after the mandatory
three day waiting period.”

“I’m sorry—what’s your name, sir?”

“Ben.”

“I’m sorry, Ben, but as tragic as suicide is,
it’s not really a social problem, and if someone really wants to
kill themselves, they’re probably not going to change their minds
just because one method isn’t available to them immediately. What’s
to stop them from taking an overdose or hanging themselves during
the waiting period?”

“Okay, but what if the girl dumped him for
another guy and now that he’s had some time to think about it, he
decides he wants to kill that guy instead of himself? Maybe after
the wait, which some states even call a ‘cooling off period’, he
might be thinking more clearly.”

“But the people calling for additional gun
control laws aren’t talking about jilted lovers and depressed
people. They make it sound like the laws will reduce crime, prevent
school shootings. Stuff like that. I just don’t see that happening.
If criminals don’t buy their guns legally – and why would they,
being criminals and all – then a billion laws won’t change anything
for them.

“Right you are,” Ben nodded.

Dave signed the bottom of the form, dated it,
and slid it across the glass display case over to Ben. “So what
happens next? I wait three days to see if I have a criminal record,
then I can come back and get it?”

“Essentially, yes. There’s the three day wait,
then there’s the background check which has to come back with some
kind of response within three days. So the two kinda run neck ‘n’
neck in this state.”

“I guess I’ll see you in three days then. My
record is spotless. I’m a little unhappy that I have to go three
days without self-defense while a homicidal maniac is trying to
kill me and my family, just to theoretically prevent someone else
from committing a crime with a legally acquired gun. I still can’t
wrap my head around that.”

“That’s ‘cause it ain’t about bein’ logical. Gun
laws are about bein’ emotional. Otherwise we’d take away cars from
people who get caught drivin’ drunk. Or we’d require them to have
breathalyzers installed in their vehicles. A drunk driver kills
someone every fifty-two minutes in this country and we ain’t really
doing a damned thing about it. Give ‘em a fine. Suspend their
license. Make ‘em go to AA meetings. Buncha nonsense. More people
are killed every year by automobiles than by guns, but you don’t
see people all emotional about that. You know why?”

“Uh…no.”

“Because just about everyone drives and no one
has an emotional reaction to seein’ a car. And though people do run
people over deliberately, it doesn’t happen every day, and cars
weren’t designed for killing. But a gun? It’s meant to kill. That’s
its job. And that freaks some people out. Scares the livin’ shit
out of them. People who are terrified of something usually ain’t
rational about it, now are they?”

“You just might be on to something there, Ben.
I’m gonna give the matter more thought. Thanks for helping me pick
out a gun and shining some light on the whole gun law thing.”

Dave reached out and shook Ben’s hand, then
walked out of the store wondering if the hugely divisive issue was
really that simple.

***

When he got back to his sister’s house, it was
empty. There was a note on the table from Nikki saying that she,
Jake, and Joy had gone to the park. He checked his business email
on his laptop and responded to a few inquiries about piano tuning.
He had nothing else to do now but wait. He leaned back and looked
at the ceiling, and as he cleared his mind, one thing wouldn’t
budge. Ron. This bastard Ron was imprinted on every moment of his
life.

He grabbed his cell phone off the table and
called the police again. He needed to know that something had been
done about this asshole. Dave was surprised when his call was
transferred to another line and someone actually picked up.

“Criminal Investigations – Burke”

“Officer Burke, I finally got a hold of
you.”

“It’s ‘Sergeant.’ Who is this?”

“This is Dave Parsons. You were at my house a
few days ago.”

“Name doesn’t ring a bell, but what I can I do
for you?”

Dave heard phones ringing and people talking in
the background. “Well, I was hoping you could give me an update on
the person who assaulted me, like telling me that he’s in
jail.”

“Case number?”

Dave looked around. One of the officers had
given him a business card with the case number written on the back.
He had no idea where it was now. Probably at his house.

“I uh… I don’t have the number. Surely you
remember talking to me just two days ago.”

“I’m sorry—What did you say your name is?”

“Parsons. Dave Parsons.”

“Right. I’m sorry, Mr. Parsons, but I talk to a
lot of people in two days. If you can get the case number and call
back at our main number—“

“Wait! How many people reported getting their
head bashed in with a cell phone and having a rock with a
threatening note tossed through their window, and their house set
on fire shortly thereafter? Does that ring a bell?”

“Yes, it does. You say you’re calling for an
update? Two days later?”

“Yes. Can you tell me if the man has been
arrested and facing trial?”

“Unless something has changed, and I won’t know
that without looking up the case, the alleged assailant is not in
custody. Now, if that’s all, Mr. Parsons, I have—“

“Wait! Please. Can you tell me why he’s not in
jail? If he’s not locked up, my family is in danger.”

“I understand your concern, but the fact is, he
had an alibi. I’ll call you if anything changes, which is highly
unlikely.”

“But he—“

“I’m out of time and I have no further
information I can possibly give you until something changes. Have a
good day, Mr. Parsons.”

Dave sat there stunned, holding the now silent
phone to his ear. Did the police even care that he, his wife, and
his child were in danger from a psychotic man who had already
attacked them several times? He thought of Yvonne’s apparent lack
of concern about Theodore and detected a pattern here.

“Nobody fucking cares!”

He was convinced they were doing nothing more
than going through the motions. These were the people society
relied upon and trusted for their protection, and yet if they
actually managed to protect someone, it would only be because they
were going through the motions of protection. Sometimes they’d
help, and sometimes, most possibly, they wouldn’t. Did they care
either way? It didn’t seem like it.

Curious about Ron Mackey, he decided to Google
him to see if anything came up. One of the results that wasn’t
related to what he was looking for but was interesting nonetheless
was about a woman who had been beaten by her ex-boyfriend. Her
attorney, named Stephen Mackey, filed a restraining order against
the man, and because of his serious threats of violence against
her, advised her to get a concealed-carry permit. She’d applied and
waited for it, but was later killed by the ex-boyfriend while the
permit languished in someone’s office weeks after it should’ve been
approved or denied.

Great. You have to wait to buy a gun, and
then if you’re approved, you need to get approval to actually have
it with you. Maybe they should include an 800 number to call when
you’re in a situation needing to defend yourself so you can ask for
approval to actually fire the gun too.

He clicked Back and looked at the search results
again. Included in the list was one for court proceedings for a man
named Ronald R. Mackey, arrested for homicide. Scanning down a list
of actions such as arraignment, bail posting, and other court
procedures, he finally came to disposition. The man had served six
years and was released on probation.

This couldn’t be the same Ron. But the city
matched. He went back up the list to an affidavit and found the
address. It didn’t match his Ron. He went back to the Google search
results and found one listing all the Ron Mackeys nationwide. He
clicked Florida, then Sarasota, and there was a list of addresses
connected to this Ron. One of them matched the address for the man
convicted of manslaughter on the original 2
^nd
Degree
Homicide charge.

Another of the addresses was the one where Dave
had tuned the piano. A chill seized his heart. He slammed the
laptop lid down and slid his chair away from the table.

Ron Mackey had already killed someone, done
time, and been released. He wasn’t just a violent bully. He was a
bona fide murderer. The police undoubtedly knew the bastard’s
record and still didn’t seem to give a shit that he was now
violently attacking people again.

Dave now understood that he and his family were
in greater danger than he had thought. And it was already bad to
begin with. He also realized that when it came to protection, he
was essentially on his own. The police could only act after the law
had been broken, and they didn’t appear to be too concerned about
doing anything. During an actual assault, he had no one but himself
to rely on, and he had to wait for government approval to even do
that if he wanted to do it the most effective way possible.