Phillip Margolin - Fugitive

Like most sociopaths, Freddy was convinced that he was highly intelligent and he was constantly coming up with “brilliant” ideas for overturning his convictions. These were the kind of ideas that never held up under close scrutiny, but Freddy rarely had his ideas scrutinized, because no one had the courage to argue with him. Debate was useless anyway, since Freddy would pound his critic into pulp when Freddy grew frustrated over his inability to understand the critic’s logic. Charlie never suggested directly that his friend’s ideas were stupid. Freddy had never touched him in anger during all the years they’d been pals, but it was always better to play it safe where Freddy was concerned.

“I’m not finding anything,” Charlie said. He’d been reading cases in which the courts overturned convictions because of incompetence of counsel.

“Look harder. There’s gotta be something about it in them books.”

“I don’t know, Freddy,” Charlie said cautiously. “I just don’t see the Supreme Court overturning your conviction because the guy peed a lot.”

“Listen, man, you ever have to go real bad?”

“Sure.”

“How well are you thinking when you got to go real bad?”

“It is distracting.”

“That’s my point. The motherfucker was peeing at every recess, and those court sessions were long . How the fuck is he gonna be concentrating on my case when he has to pee so bad? When that snitch motherfucker Jermaine was testifying against me, my lawyer was twitching and wiggling around so much I thought he was gonna fall off his motherfucking chair. I bet he didn’t hear a word that lying motherfucker said. Now that’s motherfucking incompetence, ain’t it?”

“Well, yes, it would be like falling asleep. There are cases where the courts have held that a defendant didn’t receive an adequate defense when his lawyer fell asleep during the trial.”

“See, now you’re thinking.”

“An incontinence defense would certainly be revolutionary.”

“A what?”

“Incontinence. It means the guy can’t hold it in, he wets himself. This might lead the Supreme Court to order all lawyers to wear Depends.”

Freddy smiled. “I like that.”

It was at this moment that warden Jeffrey Pulliams entered the library with prison guard Larry Merritt and three librarians from the county library system-Mabel Brooks, Ariel Pierce, and Jackie Schwartz. Warden Pulliams was a chubby, balding optimist who believed in rehabilitation. During his tenure, he had striven to build ties between the prison and the community to aid the transition of ex-convicts from incarceration to a productive life in society. This tour was part of the warden’s outreach program. It was his hope that the librarians would not only send books to the prison, but would also help promote the literacy and creative writing courses he had introduced into the prison curriculum.

Freddy Clayton was well known to the warden. They’d had a heart-to-heart talk each time the inmate had been released from solitary. The warden believed in the basic goodness of man and he never gave up on one of his charges. He was very pleased to find Freddy in a library. Of course, Crazy Freddy was not interested in outreach or broadening his mind. His main interest in life was getting out of prison in any way possible. He believed that the fortuitous appearance of the three lady librarians presented him with a faster way of achieving this goal than pursuing a writ of habeas corpus through the courts.

“Ladies,” Warden Pulliams said, “I’d like you to meet Frederick Clayton and…?”

“Charles Marsh, sir,” Charlie said when it was obvious that the warden had no idea who he was.

“Of course, Mr. Marsh. These women are librarians and I’m giving them a tour of our facility. Would you like to explain how important this library is to you?”

Charlie stood up but Freddy stayed seated.

“A well-stocked library is essential in a prison,” Charlie said. “As you may imagine, ladies, prisoners have a lot of idle time, and idle hands are the Devil’s workshop. This library enables us to put our idle time to good use.”

While Charlie’s bullshit answer was enchanting the warden, Freddy bent down and pulled a shiv out of his sock.

“I couldn’t have expressed it better, Mr. Marsh,” the warden said with a wide smile, which vanished instantly when Freddy yanked Jackie Schwartz away from the group and pressed the razor-sharp blade of his prison-made knife against her jugular vein.

“What are you doing?” Charlie yelled.

“I’m getting me the fuck out of here,” Freddy told his friend. Then he turned his attention to the warden.

“I’ll gut this bitch if you don’t do exactly what I say. Do you understand me, motherfucker?”

“Mr. Clayton…” the warden began.

“Shut the fuck up. I do the talking here. Anyone says a word and I start cutting. Now get the fuck over to the storeroom.”

Freddy nodded his head toward the far wall, where a door opened on a storage area that contained cleaning supplies, extra books, and odds and ends.

The guard started sliding his hand toward his nightstick.

“I saw that,” Freddy said, sliding his blade an inch to the right. A thin trickle of blood dribbled down the hostage’s throat. Mabel Brooks gasped.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch, and you, drop the stick and start moving. Next time you move funny she dies and I just start stabbing until someone brings me down.”

The warden had read Clayton’s file several times and knew he would kill without remorse.

“Do as he says,” Pulliams ordered in a shaky voice as he started walking toward the storage room.

The other inmates who were using the library had heard the commotion and they wandered over as Freddy herded his hostages through the stacks.

“Get out,” Freddy commanded. “You don’t want to be in here.”

The men didn’t stop to think. Charlie started to follow them but Freddy stopped him.

“Not you, Charlie. I need you with me, bro.”

Charlie’s heart sank. He was just weeks away from parole. Now Freddy was making him an accomplice in crimes that could keep him behind bars forever.

As soon as the hostages were inside the storeroom, Freddy looked around. His eyes stopped on a large spool of cord.

“Tie them up, Charlie.”

“Maybe we should…”

“Nah, we got to tie them up so they won’t cause trouble.”

Freddy used the shiv to cut several lengths of rope. While Charlie was tying up the hostages, Freddy’s eyes roamed the room. When everyone but Jackie Schwartz was secure and seated on the floor, Freddy turned the quivering woman over to Charlie and inspected several cans of paint that were stored in a corner of the room. Next to the paint cans were several tins of paint thinner, which bore labels warning that the product was hazardous and flammable.

Freddy searched the warden and the guard but didn’t find what he was looking for. Then he collected the women’s handbags and searched through them. He smiled when he found a pack of cigarettes in Mabel Brooks’s bag and grinned broadly when he discovered her lighter.

“This is just what I need,” Freddy said. He walked over to the painting supplies and carried one of the tins of paint thinner over to the spot against the wall where Charlie had lined up the hostages.

“This here’s my insurance,” Freddy told Charlie. Then he turned to the hostages. “You all are gonna get a bath. I see anyone try to escape…”

Freddy flicked the lighter. Mabel Brooks stared at the tiny flame and started to weep, and Jackie Schwartz was white-faced from shock.

Freddy opened the tin and doused the woman. Then he moved to the next hostage. When he was done, Charlie pulled him aside and whispered so the hostages wouldn’t hear him.