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FATAL MISCONCEPTIONS
by: Jenina
Written on April 16, 2007
Word Count: 5,263
Prologue: The Reporter
Testing tape recorder. Testing, one two. Testing. My name is Grant Thomas, investigative journalist extraordinaire, winner of a Peabody award – ha, I wish. Today is… January 4, 2006, Friday. The following are a series of interviews, to be interpreted later. Some words are spoken by me (although I tried to avoid putting it on tape as much as possible), and are therefore to be distinguished from the rest of the conversation with parentheses and italics. That means you, Grant-examining-all-these-tapes-in-the-future, will have to transcribe these. Just not this bit. You don’t need to transcribe this bit.
You did anyways, didn’t you? (Sigh) Move on.
Part One: The Friend
Let me guess, you’re here to ask about Daye and Kyle. Oh yeah, don’t think I don’t know. Reporters just like you have been hounding me for ages. I haven’t given them any personal interviews. How are you any different?
You’re right; I don’t have to talk to you.
(Let it be stated on the record that the subject and I are now staring each other down.)
You haven’t left yet. I think I like you. I’ll talk. No, you’re not coming in the house. Back off, buddy. We’ll stay out here.
(A long pause. Let it be noted that this girl is wasting my precious tape.)
I didn’t think they were going to turn out like this. No one could have expected it. Sammy had always been insane. It was rumored that the reason he can never finish school (even though he’s 19 years old or something like that) was because he kept on getting expelled. I also heard that the last time he got expelled, it was for taking a gun to school and threatening to shoot some girl with it. I didn’t really believe those rumors. I honestly thought Sammy Kessler had been a nice guy. But what he did to Daye and Kyle was inexcusable…
(A long pause. Again, the girl is wasting my tape. Said girl is now glaring at me. Another long pause.)
I don’t have to do this, you know. If you’re just going to be impolite…
(Subject is placated with promises of muteness. Starting now.)
I’m their mutual best friend, you know. That’s what I am and that’s what’s always defined me in high school. I chose to make my life revolve around them because frankly, their life is more interesting than mine. Because of this, I’ve always been perceptive of their relationship. I’ve always been jealous of their relationship. Who wouldn’t want what they had? Kyle and Daye off-set each other, with all of Daye’s awards in academics and Kyle’s triumphs in sports. They were both very independent of each other during school hours – I mean, they didn’t spend all their time trying to find ways to play tonsil hockey in the janitor’s closet like lust bunnies. They worked really well together.
The only thing that may cause a rift between them is Kyle’s temper. He’s notorious for spontaneously combusting at someone for the smallest reasons. They had a fight that day. That day when Sam… God… I…
I’m sorry, Mr. Thomas. That’s really all I have to say. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.
Part Two: The Shrink
Grant, my dear! It is so nice to see you again. That article about my last patient in Newsday was truly beautiful.
(Giggle) Oh, you charmer, you. Stop it. (Giggle)
Thank you for not specifically quoting me, though. Are you here for another one of my patients, then? I’ll gladly give you more information as long as you do the same as you did with your last article and not quote me.
Daye O’Malley? Oh yes, her I know. This Kyle Jenkins you speak of I don’t know personally, but I may have a file on him… Daye was one of my most interesting patients.
On our first session together, she was calm and composed, even in her current living conditions. She refused to show any emotions whatsoever. Her answers were courteous and vague. She frustrated me that first time because she had so much control over her emotions. Patients who have control over their emotions are difficult to analyze, as they are generally very deceitful when it comes to revealing their inner turmoil. Mrs. O’Malley checked Daye in. I remember that much. Her daughter never revealed anything to her after the… ah… incident, so naturally, Mrs. O’Malley was concerned over Daye’s mental well-being.
On our second session, Daye simply refused to speak. I’m not sure whether it was the transfer to the new room that was just built or if her vocal chords just refused to work. Either way, she could not speak. Curious condition. She became irritated with herself and excused herself from the room. During the entire session, she was constantly looking over her shoulder and casting scrutinizing glances into shadows. Severe case of paranoia, perhaps?
On the third session, she finally allowed me to get to know something about her. I remember I asked her, “What is it that makes you Daye O’Malley?” She cleared her throat and had no hesitation in declaring, “I have a boyfriend. His name is Kyle.”
That was all she said. “I have a boyfriend. His name is Kyle.”
After she said that, she remained blank and unresponsive to my treatment. I believe I have her file here with me, though. Aha! Here it is! Oh and here is the Jenkins boy that you mentioned earlier. I’m not allowed to let you take this out of the office, but you may take notes on it, as long as you return it to the secretary on the first floor before you leave.
I hope I have been of assistance, Mr. Thomas. Please take one of my cards. It was a pleasure.
(The following information was taken off of the files that the kind psychiatrist had given me. It is handwritten and should be inserted into the transcription.)
File 44353: Daye O’Malley
Physical: Redhead, blue eyes, Irish-American, average height, average weight.
Mental: Generally in control over emotions. Unrevealing. Life very centered on K. Jenkins. Paranoid. May have severe case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Currently on suicide watch.
File 14134: Kyle Jenkins
Physical: Brunet, brown eyes, African/South-American mix, tall, proportional weight.
Mental: Examination pending.
Part Three: The Gossip
Oh, is it on now? Great! I’ve been waiting so long to let out this piece of juicy gossip. Only that Daye made me swear never to tell anyone. I remember she told me, “Swear to me, Callie. No, no. Swear on your Christian Dior purse—” at this I gasped, “that you won’t tell a soul.” So I didn’t tell anyone. Until now, of course. (Giggle)
So her eyes went all shifty, like she was checking to see if someone was near. Pfft. As if. I’m the epitome of discreet. (Giggle) Epitome. I learned that in class today. Isn’t it great? Anyways, she whispered in my ear – are you ready for this? This info is totally juicy. She was like, “I think I have a stalker.” She said it like that kid from that movie who was like, “I see dead people.” Totally creepy.
So I was like, “No!” I gasped, faux-scandalized. “Is he cute?” Daye was freaking horrified! “What—no!” she said. You should’ve seen her face. She looked like I just told her that homeless people were suddenly wearing Prada.
“I’m just kidding, chica!” I reassured her. “So tell Callie all the details.”
So she was like, “I first saw him standing outside my window when I was practicing my violin.” And I thought, ew, what a freak. I told her that and she was all, “No shit, Sherlock.” She told me he kept on appearing everywhere she would go.
Who’s the guy? I don’t know. I think it was some freak in her Physics class or whatever. You don’t really expect me to know the weirdoes in our school, do you? Please. The only people worth talking about are those that actually matter. Like Daye and Kyle. They were like, the King and Queen of our school, without the crowns and stuff and so much more adorable. Even the icky little freshmen know their names and history. You know, childhood friends, how they hooked up, yada yada. It’s all common knowledge in our school.
(Let it be stated for the record that I am desperately tempted to turn off the tape recorder on this exasperating girl.)
Okay, okay, chill. I’ll get back to the stalker. So anyways, Daye was all jittery and scared and everything. Then she told me she was getting little notes and chocolate from this freak-o-maniac. I was wondering if it could’ve been Kyle, but Daye told me the notes weren’t in his handwriting. And he didn’t know what she was talking about when she asked him about it.
Then, we started talking about shopping at the mall. You know who we saw there? Kyle’s bff, Ryan. What a cutie! Oh—wait, what are you doing? Where are you going? I have so much more gossip you can report! Mr. Thomas!
Part Four: The Officer
State my name for the rec—what are you nosy reporters trying to do? The Sam Kessler trial is going to be taped, you know. (Snort) You can probably watch it on Court TV later. I told you all – I have no comment. Kessler is just a sick murderer. I feel sorry for the kid he shot. I'd be scared if I were Kessler. His victim's girlfriend was downright terrifying when she came to give me her statement. She was asking me how to send him to Alcatraz while her leg was gushing blood. She was very calm, though. Didn't hesitate or anything. Kessler deserves to be rotting in prison, if you ask me.
You don't want to talk about Kessler? Good. I don't like him. The girl? Her name was… uh… yeah, that's what it was. Daye O'Malley. She got shot, too. My partner took a long time before he finally added the "e" to her first name on the paperwork. The kid he killed was uh, Jenkins. Yeah, Kyle Jenkins. Been shot a couple of times in my life. Not pretty business, I'll tell you that.
(Let it be stated on the record that this reporter is shocked. Jenkins, murdered?)
What, did no one tell you that? What kind of people have you talked to, tourists? Everyone in town is still talking about the case. What do you think Sam Kessler is charged with first degree murder for, shooting a rabbit? Besides, you don't need me to tell you this. Put a camera in the face of anyone in this town or tell him that his name is going to be in the newspaper and they'll tell you everything they know and more.
But yeah, Jenkins got shot all right. Took a bullet for his girl. That takes some real guts, don't you think? That Sam Kessler fellow wanted to stay in jail when we were holding him for investigation. Jenkins has some violent friends who are swearing revenge.
Some jogger was nearby when it happened, saw Kessler trying to flee with the gun. You could probably get her to talk.
Damn it. I've already told you too much. Me and my damn mouth… I'm going to be in serious trouble with the chief if they know I told you this. You won't quote me on this, will you?
Part Five: The Witness
Yeah, yeah, I'm Alice. What do you want? Whatever. I don't really care who you are. I'm kind of busy here.
Oh? You're – you're from Newsday magazine? No, no, come in, come in. I'm sure everything can wait… Yeah, of course I can answer a few questions, no problem. My name is Alice Walker, by the way. Spelled traditionally, that's right. Don't you need a photo or something? I can pose for a few shots, especially if it's going to be a front page spread…
Yep, that's me! I'm the witness to that. Mmhmm, saw the whole thing go down. They go to my school, you know. Sammy Stalker, Kyle, and Daye. They're both seniors and I'm just a junior but everybody knows them, you know?
Sammy Stalker? Oh, his real name is like, Sam Kessel or something like that. Yeah, Sam Kessler, that's it! I don't know. Everyone just calls him Sammy Stalker 'cause he has a history of stalking different girls at our school. Why? I'm not sure, but I'm pretty sure it's because he thinks the girl's in love with him after she borrows his pencil or whatever. It's like that one time when my friend Jenny asked him if she could copy his homework because she was at a party and couldn't do it. So he let her borrow his homework to copy off of him and for a while after that, he would be following her everywhere trying to hold her hand and kiss her and stuff. Give him any attention and he's convinced that you would run off to Vegas with him.
So anyways, Sammy Stalker fired two shots just about 30 feet ahead of me while I was jogging. Took off into the woods when he realized I was there and that I had witnessed the entire thing. Kyle tried to catch him while Daye was sort of dazed on the asphalt. I sped up and stopped right next to her, asking if she was okay and everything. Daye snapped out of whatever funk she was in and started screaming "Kyle!" over and over again. She wasn't in any form to run, seeing as one of the shots went into her leg so I told her to chill by the car and that I'd go after Kyle and Sammy Stalker.
I found Kyle after I went in circles for a bit and he was unconscious on the ground. Sammy was standing over him with a gun in his hand when I got there. Then, he saw me and ran like he was being chased by a… uh… bear! Or something. Whatever.
Why didn't I go after him? Well, jeez, Mr. T! He was carrying his gun! I'm a bit on the insane side, but not so much that I'll chase after a guy with a gun! I went to Kyle instead. I didn't realize he'd been shot until I saw the blood all over his clothes. So I slapped him around a bit to make him wake up. I guess I'm pretty strong, but not strong enough to carry him all the way back and I didn't have my cell phone with me. He came back into consciousness but wouldn't get up. He kept on saying "Daye" over and overa gain, and then I thought, "Duh!" Daye probably had a cell phone to call 911! When I got to her, she was just leaning up against the car, but she wasn't hysterical like she was when I left her. It turns out she already called 911 and they were already on their way.
Is that all you need to know, then? Because I can tell you so much more. You can quote me as much as you like, no problem. All right then. 'Bye, Mr. T!
Part Six: The Paramedic
Hey Grant! What’s up, man? You need a favor? All right. But whatever it is, you better make it fast. We can’t have any reporters hounding us when we’re on the job, you know. Distracting and all that. (Laugh)
Oh yeah, I remember Kyle Jenkins. Shot to the chest, death by excessive blood loss. I tried reviving him in the ambulance but he’d lost too much blood. He would have died even if we had given him a blood transfusion.
That’s my pager. We’re out again. You’ll have a better chance of getting whatever you need tomorrow. See you around!
(Let it be noted that this is the following day of the initial interview.)
Grant! How’s it going? Are we still on for poker night this Friday? Good, good. What do you need? You don’t usually come around my work place unless you need a favor or something. Daye? Who? Oh! Daye O’Malley. I wasn’t the one taking care of her when she came in. That was Marge, probably. I’ll go get her, if you want. I think she’s off on her lunch break right now…
(Let it be noted that the following interview is with a different paramedic.)
Hi, my colleague says you needed me? Daye? Oh yes! I remember her. This is such a small town, you know, and we don’t get many calls from people who live in Linville. It’s usually tourists who don’t know their way around who need us. So when it comes from one of our own, you remember, you know?
Anyways, yes, I was in charge of her care. What do you need this for? Newsday? Oh, I adore that magazine. I always look forward to getting that in the mail.
Hmm… I guess I can answer a few questions, as long as you don’t state my name in your article. As long as we have an understanding…?
Well, Daye refused any care until she got to see her boyfriend, some young man with the name Kyle. I truly did not want to show her where Kyle was at. He was down in the holding area for dead bodies.
Poor Daye. I showed her to the room and she looked like I just cut off all her limbs without giving anesthesia. Cried the entire time I was treating her, didn’t stop until she went to sleep. When her mother took her home a few weeks later, Daye looked very dead herself. Didn’t smile, didn’t cry, nothing. My daughter goes to work with Daye. My daughter always said Daye was the reason she came out of her shell and started making friends. What a sweet girl Daye was. Isn’t she at Harrison, now?
Oh, Harrison is actually Harrison Smith Hospital in the city about 15 miles west of here. You know, the Institution. Loony bin. (Gasp) Oh, don’t quote me on that one! That was insensitive of me. In fact, don’t quote me on any of this. Technically, I’m not supposed to tell you anything…
Of course! I’m glad to have been of assistance, Mr. Thomas. Have a good day!
Part Seven: The Stalker
So you managed to hunt me down. I was a bit surprised when the guards told me my brother was coming to visit, especially since I’m an only child. Lazy brutes. (Snort) You’re a reporter, aren’t you? It’s a bit obvious with the way you’re pressing that tape recorder against the phone.
I suppose you’ll be asking me why I shot Kyle Jenkins. Why should I tell you anything? You wouldn’t understand.
You’re right. You’re absolutely right. The readers deserve to know my side of the story. Other people in the media have been slamming me left and right. So you’re going to tell my story, right? Good. I suppose I can tell you something…
It was a mistake. I don’t make mistakes. (Subject has banged fist against the glass separating us.) I am Sam Kessler. Mistakes aren’t my style. Kyle was nice to me. He yelled at his friends when they pushed me for no reason while I was walking. I was so angry, I was tempted to reach into my backpack and shoot them with my gun. I got expelled from my last school for having a gun in school, but I managed to get another one from my friend who has connections. I’ve always kept my gun near me at all times. Bastards like Kyle’s friends have always been messing with me and I kept it around for when they go too far.
I suppose I can thank Kyle for introducing me to Daye, though. She’s the one I bumped into when his friends had pushed me.
Everyone knows I’m in love with Daye. Except maybe Daye. God, she’s beautiful. Don’t you think she’s beautiful? She’s ethereal. The time I bumped into her was the first time I talked to her and knew she loved me back. I apologized and she just smiled and said it was no problem. I could tell she loved me. I could see it in her eyes. We were meant to be together.
Ever since then, I devoted my every waking moment learning about her. Sometimes I would say hi. She would ask me how I’m doing. Then I would say fine and she’d give me this secret little smile. Other times, I would watch her from afar with my trusty binoculars. I changed my route when I was walking home from school just so I could walk behind her when she was heading home. We were in love.
Then Kyle started dating her. I didn’t mind too much. I knew he was a good guy. He was only dating her to get her off the radar for other guys. That was our secret, unspoken deal. He was only waiting for me to make my move on her. I never got the courage to. I would always just remain standing in the forest a few feet from her house, watching her through her bedroom window.
I finally plucked up the courage to do it, so I memorized her schedule to figure out the best time to approach her. However, I missed her right after school because she came out of the classroom later. Kyle was immediately by her side with an arm around her shoulders. I simmered with rage. Kyle was ruining all my plans. I fingered the gun in my jacket pocket slowly. I gathered up what remained of my courage and revved up my car to follow them. My plan was to wait until they noticed I was tailing them, and then I would ask Daye out. Kyle, being the great person that he was, would step aside graciously.
It didn’t go according to plan.
When they stopped the car, they didn’t register the fact that I was there. They were arguing over something. At first I was surprised. Those two never argue. Whatever argument they were having caused Kyle to grab her arm and shake her a bit. Daye slapped him. This was when I stepped in.
I told Kyle to let her go and that I was ready to step in and be Daye’s man. Kyle was bewildered for some reason. So I reminded him of our unspoken deal about Daye. Kyle must have suffered a memory lapse because he looked genuinely confused. I explained it to him again and he laughed. Can you believe it? The stupid fuck laughed. He was supposedly a great guy! Daye just gave me a weird look and grabbed Kyle’s arm as if to get protection from me. From me, the one she was in love with of all people!
I was thinking, “Oh ho, Kyle. Good one. You had me going there for a second.” I explained everything to him again. He told me, “Sam, are you high? What deal are you talking about? Daye and I are having a conversation so if you could...” And he had the gall to try to shoo me away. Daye followed his lead and turned her head away, as if she was dismissing me. I had had enough.
I shoved Kyle down onto the road with all my strength. I made sure he hit his head on the asphalt on the way down, just enough so that he was physically unable to stop my next actions. And then Daye – I can’t believe that two-timing whore. She ran to poor little Kyle’s rescue and began yelling at me to go away. Well. I got tired of it. I got tired of hearing her voice, of being dismissed. That was it.
I reached into my jacket pocket to retrieve my gun. Whoever said violence is not the answer is a moron.
I first told Daye how much I had loved her and how she was throwing it all away. I gave her one final chance to get away from Kyle. I mean, she was still Daye, my beautiful goddess. I could be forgiving, if she made it up to me later.
But no. Daye was babbling stuff like I didn’t need to do this, that this was unnecessary. She was wrong. This was very necessary. If she won’t be my goddess, then no one else shall worship her. So I fired. Twice. The first one went into Daye’s leg. The second one I took time to aim into Daye’s chest, where her heart would be. Except Kyle chose that moment to regain mobility and his senses. He pushed Daye off the road and the bullet went into his body.
(Long pause. Subject has hand fisted in hair. Seems to have pulled out several strands.)
It was a mistake. Daye was supposed to be the one dead, not Kyle. Daye deserved to be dead, not Kyle. Kyle was just the victim of Daye’s schemes. So I did what anyone who makes a mistake would do. I ran.
(Subject sighs and places his head in his hands. Regret, possibly? Oh! Subject is speaking again.)
I can’t thank you enough for being willing to share my story, Mr. Thomas. Now everybody can see how my actions are completely justified. Does this mean I can, you know, not go to jail?
Part Eight: The Girlfriend
Hello. You must be Grant – may I call you that? Please, sit. I’m Daye. My psychiatrist says it’s good to let my feelings out. I don’t like her that much. I think I like you much better. You don’t have that look of pity in your eyes. If you’d like to listen, I will gladly let my feelings out for you. However, you’ll have to tell your readers a message for me. Agreed? Great. Tell them—
(At the request of the subject, her words are to be off-record and only written in the article’s final draft. Not sure why, but subjects are always right.)
You probably think that my life is full and thrilling. I’m sure someone must have told you about various academic achievements. They don’t matter. Not really. Kyle’s not a part of my life anymore. There’s nothing left in my life to thrill me. He’s still here, you know. Right here, where my heart would be if he hadn’t stolen it a long time ago.
I used to think that having a life outside of your romantic relationship is important. Here I am, proven wrong. My life has no meaning without Kyle. Kyle was like my sun. He showed light in dark places and was the source of my energy. He is the only star that matters in my universe. He is dead. He shined too brightly and a jealous little star saw fit to snuff his light out. Sam Kessler, the bane of my existence. I used to think he was such a sweet guy. A little on the obsessive side, but he never did me any wrong. Until he shot Kyle.
I’ve never been close with my family. Sometimes, I think it’s only because we share blood that they bother to care for me. Kyle doesn’t need that to care about me. Did you know that he had applied and got accepted into Stanford for me? I applied to Stanford and got accepted weeks before he told me. I was elated but at the same time heart-broken that I couldn’t go to the same college as he. He was so vehement in his refusal to go to Ivy League schools. He said they’re severely overrated. He got into Stanford to be in the same college with me. And to think, we were arguing about his commitment issues that day. Whenever I mentioned the phrase “long distance relationship”, he got uncomfortable. If only I knew he was planning to tell me we were going to college together, then we wouldn’t have stopped there to argue. Then, Sam wouldn’t have had the chance to shoot Kyle. If only...
So you see, I’m not insane. I don’t belong here in this padded room with a straight jacket restricting my arms. I belong in Heaven, where Kyle is right now. But they won’t let me be. They don’t understand. It’s okay, Grant. I’m not planning to kill myself. I plan to make myself good enough to go to Heaven when it’s my time. So I can join Kyle up there. They just don’t understand.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not planning on exacting revenge on Sam Kessler for what he did. I’m leaving that up to Kyle’s friends, who are violent enough for all of us. The “tooth for a tooth, eye for an eye” principal is overrated. I do intend to make him suffer, as I told the policeman. I told him, “Officer, I want Sam Kessler rotting in Alcatraz. Is that possible? How so? Tell me all the ways I can make it possible.”
My newest psychiatrist kept on asking me about myself, just like you are now. The simplest way to describe me is this: I have a boyfriend. His name is Kyle.
(clipping from the Newsday magazine)
FATAL MISCONCEPTIONS
The quiet little town of Linville is not the common setting of a murder. This quiet town is a friendly community of suburban homes and wholesome families.
Daye O’Malley and Kyle Jenkins grew up in such homes. The O’Malleys are Irish-Americans whose ancestors were some of the earliest settlers here. Jenkins came from a home with more than one woman serving as mother, which, while unusual, did not affect him negatively. Samuel Kessler also came from a comfortable home. Kessler resided in a gated community with well-off parents.
So what would drive Kessler to shoot both O’Malley and Jenkins (later causing Jenkins’s death), neither of whom had done him wrong? Kessler himself admits that both were very kind to him.
Why did he do it? For the same reason many prison inhabitants live there:
jealousy.
O’Malley and Jenkins had been together for quite some time before Jenkins’s murder. The two were childhood friends. Kessler was a generally awkward student who had earned the nickname “Sammy Stalker” for his peculiar ways of pursuing his romantic interests. Namely, stalking them.
Kessler’s first contact with O’Malley had convinced him that O’Malley was in love with him, although she never gave any hint of such.
Kessler twisted the situation to mix fantasy and reality with fatal consequences. He was determined to have O’Malley for himself. When O’Malley chose Jenkins over Kessler, Kessler snapped. He fired one shot into O’Malley’s leg, and then paused to take aim into her heart. Jenkins, who had previously been incapacitated, regained his bearings and shoved O’Malley away. A promising life was cut short that day, all because of a deadly misunderstanding.
Jenkins did not survive the trip to the hospital. Even with a blood transfusion, there was just too much blood lost to replace.
O’Malley, now situated in Harrison Smith Hospital on suicide watch, implored of me to write these words as the final note to this tragedy:
“Never take a good thing for granted,” she spoke as her arms were held back with a straight jacket, “for you never know when it will, just as suddenly as it began, end.”
- Grant Thomas, © 2007.