Twisted Soul – Installment 2

Twisted Soul

By

D.M. KURTZ

Installment 2:

In the Beginning

December 2nd, 2013
“We are coming to you live from outside the LaPlata County Courthouse here in Durango, where the jury has just delivered what can only be called a shocking verdict for known murderer and child predator Randy Jameson: not guilty, by plea of insanity – “

“NO!”

The distant voice of the reporter through TV speakers was cut short when a white, ceramic coffee mug connected with the sixty-inch flat screen. The dish shattered, and the impact from the improvised projectile caused the liquid crystal behind the plastic display to crack into a million shades of blue and red.

Jess’s mind reeled, and in the absence of audio from the news broadcast a subtle drip, drip could be heard as the spilled coffee poured onto the floor.

Insanity… No one in their right mind can believe that that sick man is insane! He snarled, rose from his perch on the leather couch and proceeded to pace around the spacious room while he struggled to process the verdict as it had been issued. Cold tile touched his bare feet as he moved swiftly back and forth in front of his ruined television. With a grunt, he let his arm fly out to his right where it connected with a vase that was placed on the edge of his shining oak entertainment center.

The tall man paused, raised a hand to his forehead and cringed as he surveyed the broken pieces. With a light shake of his head, he wheeled around and moved into the kitchen just to his right where he retrieved a broom, dustpan and rag from a massive walk-in pantry. Moments later and the mess of both vase and mug had been scraped into the trash compactor beneath the granite counter beside the sink, and the remnants of coffee had been wiped clean.

Still brooding, Jess left the kitchen behind as he moved to his right and proceeded down a long hallway filled with ornate paintings hung between numerous wooden doors. He stopped at the end of the hall and entered the master bedroom to his left, where he paused for the briefest of moments to pick-up an old, worn and weathered King James Bible from one of two nightstands that flanked either side of his rather extravagant bed.

He fell to his knees and placed the book atop his memory foam mattress before he bowed his head.

I need guidance, he prayed. You are said to be just, but where is that justice now? Where is the God of whom I read about daily? The one who smites his enemies and sees the wicked men destroyed?! His normally calm beseechment left at a furious pace as the face of that sick and twisted man filled his mind’s eye. Those images were immediately followed by flashes of each victim before the vision ended with the unsettling words of the reporter. Jess sighed and rubbed his forehead for a moment before he flipped through the pages in front him. His sharp, hazel eyes rapidly scanned the text until he found the passage he sought.

“I will execute great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes; and they shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall lay my vengeance upon them.” Jess read the words of Ezekiel 25:17 aloud with a clenched and shaking fist. Where is that God? He frowned and flipped to Genesis chapter nine, verse six and mumbled under his breath the words that were written.

“Whosoever sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for in the image of God made he man.” He scratched the stubble on his chin and shook his head while he turned to another passage. His narrow lips moved rapidly as he mouthed the story found in Genesis 34.

When their sister was raped, her brothers slaughtered the rapist and saw to it that his father along with all who knew what had happened and did nothing to rectify it were destroyed. God… you saw that as just, so how can you sit idly by while this… filth, this scum Randy walks away after all that he’s done?

As the fevered prayer flew through his mind, he could no longer hold back the tears that had been building since he’d first hit his knees. They escaped heavy lids and spilled down quivering cheeks before they soaked the suede black comforter atop the mattress after the muscles in his neck had relaxed enough for his head to fall onto the plush material. Bitter, angry and mournful drops they were, the kind that expressed by their release his truly deep and terrible fury at what had transpired. After watching with the rest of the world the events of Randy’s trial unfold for several months, to see such an end to the criminal’s actions had rocked Jess to his very core. But what could be done? The ruling had been made; it was over.

Is it? The thought stopped his weeping quite suddenly. He lifted his head and blinked at the notion that had begun to form in his mind. He… He must be brought to justice. Jess slowly nodded his head as he dried damp cheeks and coughed. With a faint groan, he rose to his feet and moved into the spacious walk-in closet that was located at the back of the room. The dull, clunking sound of tumblers bumping together filled the space as he rotated the black dial of a massive safe mounted into the wall to the left of his Armani suit. Moments later, the latch popped and he pulled open the hefty steel door. His eyes narrowed when they took in the black steel of weapons he swore he’d never again lift toward a breathing soul unless death itself for those he loved was inevitable. A Sig Sauer rested on a shelf next to a box of 9mm hollow-point bullets, but these were only two of many such items contained within the large metal box.

Randy Jameson MUST be brought to justice…

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