70 comments/ 60469 views/ 15 favorites Real Life Tragedy By: radk To the reader: I recently found myself waiting for a connecting flight at the San Francisco airport and grew tired of watching the parade of people going by so I started looking around for something to occupy my time. Sitting on the seat next to me was an out of town newspaper from somewhere in the upper Midwest, Cleveland, or Chicago, or Milwaukee, or some large city like that, so I picked it up hoping to find a virgin crossword puzzle. But instead, on the back of the third page, tucked away below the fold I found a short article about a police involved shooting that piqued my interest. I read it and noted that the story was so commonplace that it didn't even make the front page. It was a sad and tragic story that left two people dead and a third in critical condition. After reading the article I started wondering about the people. Other than the facts about the shooting victim it said nothing about the cause of this tragedy, the lives that were ruined, or the legacy they left behind. That's when my writer mind went to work. When my flight home finally took off I pulled out my laptop and started writing. The story you're about to read is the result. To start with you need to read the same article I did. Since copyright laws prevent me from printing the original article here, I rewrote it for you to read, changing the names and places to protect the innocent. I wrote it like the reporter did, dry and emotionless. My story follows afterwards telling what might have happened. It will not be dry and emotionless. Everything in this story is fiction. FICTION! Sure I based it on real events but it in no way reflects what actually happened. I made it all up, but based on the general facts of the case. Besides, this proves that reality is a lot crazier than anything I could ever come up with in my warped little mind. I want to thank jo for editing. I also want to thank you for reading. But be warned, this one isn't for the faint of heart. It's a bit violent in places. And sorry, there's no real sex in here either. Copyright © June 2013 by the author. ******** The article: City police: Officers shoot man who pointed gun at them By Anna Nonymous City Chronicle Breaking News Team May 15, 2013 City police officers shot a man after he pointed a gun at them late Friday evening in the picnic area of Lake Eisenhower State Park, according to a police official. Officers were called to the scene by residents near the park reporting a man carrying a gun walking around the picnic area. Authorities found the suspect sitting on a park bench when they arrived. The man stood and began screaming at the officers when they asked for some identification. He reportedly stood facing the officers holding a handgun at his side. During the confrontation he waved his weapon around and refused to drop it when officers instructed him to do so. When he raised the gun and pointed it at the officers they opened fire striking the victim multiple times. The man was later identified as Maxwell Bloom, age 36. The police had been on the lookout for Mr. Bloom as a person of interest in a double homicide that was reported in the City Chronicle last week involving Virginia Bloom and Jon Thompson, a prominent local real estate agent. The victim was taken to a local hospital where he was reported to be in critical condition, according to a hospital spokesperson. No officers were hurt in the altercation. Both officers have been placed on routine administrative leave pending an investigation into the shooting. Witnesses told police that the man seemed distraught and had been frightening joggers and bike riders. ******** The story behind the story: There was nothing remarkable about Max, just your ordinary working stiff spending 80 hours a week trying to keep his landscaping business from becoming another statistic of the economic downturn. Plants were his life and the business he started with his brother five years before was the culmination of a life-long dream: Bloom and Bloom Landscaping. It wasn't a big company, only six employees beside himself and his brother, but it provided the total income for their two families. But times were tough and Max did the work of three men and his health and family relations paid the price. In the last year Max seldom had a day off, working as many hours on Saturday and Sunday as he did on any given weekday. Just trying to keep up with his customer's demands made doing anything else but work impossible and trying to keep a positive cash flow so Bloom and Bloom could make the payments on their bank loans was an additional strain. Max kept all of the stress bottled up inside him. Even his brother Ed didn't know what was going on with him. And the guilt of not being there for his family made his life's work, his passion for anything green, feel like a burden instead of a pleasure. When Max got home in the evening Virginia always met him with a smile and some warmed up dinner. She knew that her husband was doing everything humanly possible to make his business a success. She loved him for that. She loved him for a lot of things, working hard being just one of them. But the strain was beginning to show on her too. Gone were the dinners out with Max. Gone was any chance for a family vacation. Gone was even alone time in the backyard with a beer. She hadn't even had enough money to buy herself a new dress in the last year. Daily time with her husband dwindled down to a quick late night dinner before watching him fall into bed exhausted. She knew how important Bloom and Bloom was to Max. Virginia never said a negative word. She could see how much pressure he was under and she went out of her way to not add to it. She even started working part time for a local real estate company to try to help out. Her minimum-wage salary, and the occasional commission when a property sold, just helped keep food on the table with an occasional treat at McDonalds for their daughter. Their daughter Jamie was in kindergarten and the things she needed for school were getting expensive. But Virginia never said a word. She vowed to never let Max know the pressure she was under. She kept her emotions a prisoner inside her too. Their relationship suffered from just the sheer exhaustion of the day: Max from doing three jobs at a time and Virginia from trying to scrimp and save for the day-to-day things they needed to exist. Everything in their life was either at bare minimum survival level or just gone completely. The last thing that disappeared was their sex life. The pressure cooker of their lives was boiling. It was only a matter of time before it exploded. ******** Springtime was the time for planting and everybody wanted their homes and businesses to be the best in the neighborhood. Bloom and Bloom added another five men to the payroll and still there was more than enough work to go around. But at least Max could now concentrate his efforts in the garage and supply shed and equipment lot. Only a couple times a week did he have to drive out to resolve a problem one of the crews couldn't deal with. Ed spent time drumming up new business and handling clients and doing the accounting and anything to do with the front office. Ed was just as busy as Max. It was a sunny day in May when the pressure cooker started to rumble. "Max, there's a phone call in the office for you," Ed's voice boomed over the loudspeaker in the equipment yard. Max entered the office shed and reached for the phone. "Who is it?" Max asked before pushing the button to connect the call. "He wouldn't say," Ed said shrugging his shoulders. Max connected the call and said in his best business voice, "Hello, this is Max Bloom. How can I help you?" "Hi Max this is George Carlisle," the voice on the line said. "Got a minute?" "My God George, of course, for you anything. What's up?" "Listen this may be none of my business, and if it isn't then just tell me to shut up and keep my nose out of things, and I will, but Max there might be a problem here." "What's going on George? Raccoons make a nest in the garage again? The lawn needs mowing? I know I haven't been home much lately but I can send one of my crews around to take care of whatever needs to be done. I can always count on either you or my other next door neighbor to remind me of something I haven't done around the house. Just tell me what's going on." "Christ Max, I don't know how to say this. It's kinda' hard..." His voice trailed off to nothing. "Just spit it out George. I won't be offended." "Okay Max, here goes. Max for the last few weeks I've been hearing sounds coming from your house during the day. It's not every day but a few times a week. Sounds like screaming. Well, maybe not screaming but yelling at least. I can hear them now. Here, let me put the phone out the window and let you listen." Max listened to the phone and heard nothing. "Did you hear that?" George asked after a couple minutes. "Sorry George, I didn't hear a thing. What did it sound like?" "Christ Max, I can't repeat what I heard, it's... it's..." "What George? Spit it out." "Shit Max, it sounds like you and Virginia going at it in the bedroom. I've heard you two a lot of times in the evenings doing, well you know what you were doing. I never said anything about it because it kinda' reminded me of my Katie and me. Sometimes we would get so carried away we'd forget we had the windows open. The silly smiles we got from the neighbors after a night of..." "Stop George!" "Sorry Max. Got to rambling a bit." "George, tell me exactly what you heard," Max said his voice getting a little higher pitched. There was a long pause on the phone before George began. "Max I heard a woman scream out 'Fuck me, fuck me, God fuck me hard.' I can't be positive but it sounded like it was coming from your house." Neither Max nor George said anything for a long time. Ed looked over and saw the strange expression on Max's face and gave him a wave and a questioning look. Max waved at him and turned to face the other way. "George, do me a favor," Max asked under his breath. "Look in the driveway and see if Virginia's car is there. I'll hold on." The minute of silence had Max's heart beating so hard he could almost hear it. Max could hear George taking a breath before speaking. "Max? Her car's there. I don't see any others, just hers. And the noise has stopped." Max tried to find a reason Virginia would be home in the middle of the day but couldn't find one. The thoughts bouncing around in his head made no sense. He needed to do something but couldn't figure out what. His heart was now beating loud enough for Ed to hear. Finally George broke into his thoughts. "Max? Max? You still there?" "Yeah George, I'm here. Listen do me a favor. Keep an eye next door and tell me if anything happens. I'll be there in about 30 minutes. I'm leaving now." Max didn't even say goodbye. He just put the phone back in the cradle and looked at his brother. "Ed, I've got to go home for a few minutes. I'll call you and let you know when I'll be back. The southern crew's truck is loaded up and waiting for them when they get here. I've gotta' go." And he tore out of the building like his pants were on fire. Ed watched his younger brother's car kicking up gravel from the parking lot as he sped away. Ed was instantly worried. "Aw shit! Now what's going on?" Max was home in 20 minutes, breaking every traffic and speed law along the way. Luckily the local police were busy somewhere else. Virginia's car was not in the driveway but George was standing on his front porch waiting for him. Old George waved and yelled across the fence, "I'm sorry Max. I didn't see her leave. I had to go to the bathroom and when I got back to the window her car was gone. It's been gone about ten minutes now. Sorry." Max stood there wondering what to do next. Shortly he found himself unlocking the front door and walking inside. The house was quiet except for a swooshing sound coming from the laundry. He walked through the kitchen and into the laundry room and saw that the washing machine was running. Lifting the lid stopped the rhythmic twisting of the drum, he was able to put his hand in the water and pull out what appeared to be one of their bed sheets. He let it drop back into the water and put the lid down. Looking around the kitchen he saw nothing out of place. Everything looked like it was when he left in the morning. There was nothing out of place in the living room when he walked through and he stuck his head in Jamie's room to check there too, but also found nothing. He stopped in front of his bedroom door afraid to walk in. His heart was still beating like a bass drum. His hands were sweating. His head was pounding. After a long minute of paralysis he took a step forward. The first thing he noticed was the humidity. The room felt musky, almost like someone had left the shower on too long. And there was a definite aroma to it. Max's heart skipped a beat when he realized where he knew that smell from. He remembered the many times he laid with his arms around Virginia after they had just had one of their marathon sessions messing up the sheets. And he remembered the sounds she made when they did it. That confirmed what George heard. Max stumbled around the room looking for anything to tell him what he thought was wrong. Everything looked to be in its place except the bed. It wasn't made. A fresh set of sheets were lying on the bed and the old ones were in the washer. He picked up the clean sheets and saw underneath a circular discoloration on the mattress. A wet spot. Immediately he dropped to his knees, his chin falling to his chest. All the evidence was there. Everything said what he couldn't believe. His head started pounding to match the bass drum in his chest. Breathing sped up too. His body was out of control. His mind had long since abandoned him. For the longest time Max knelt on the floor next to his bed and wondered what happened to his life. How long he sat there he didn't know. Something forced him back to reality; a noise, a pounding noise coming from the living room. Slowly he stood and walked down the hall. Through the little window atop the front door he saw a shadow of a figure, the figure making the pounding noise. Whoever it was wasn't knocking, they were pounding on the door with their fist. He took a deep breath and opened the door. "Jesus H Christ!" Ed said his face all red. "You scared the hell out of me. What's going on? Why'd you tear out of the lot like that?" Max didn't say anything. He just stared at his brother on the verge of exploding. "Christ Max you look like shit. Let's go into the kitchen and sit down." Ed guided his brother to the kitchen table and sat him on one side. After pulling a couple beers out of the refrigerator he sat himself in the chair across from Max. "Now talk. What happened?" Ed asked twisting the top off of his bottle. Max just stared across the table with nothing behind his eyes. His mind wasn't working but he had enough automatic reflexes left to take a pull on his beer. The cold brew going down his throat kick-started his senses and then his mind started working. The sounds in his head were screams, his screams. When his eyes focused on something again it was his brother's face. Max looked his brother in the eye and lied to him. "Go back to work Ed. There's nothing going on here. Everything's fine." Ed looked at him and knew he was lying. "Bullshit little brother. I know you and everything's not fine. Now spill." Max just stared at his brother for the longest time. Then he stood and started walking to the front door. He got in his car and drove away before Ed could catch up to him or say another word. Ed stood in the driveway looking down the street shaking his head. Before he left he cleaned up the kitchen and locked the front door. Max didn't go back to work. He circled the block and came back in front of his house just as his brother's truck went down the street. Max parked and went over to George's house. "George I need to ask you a favor," Max said with his head hanging down. "Anything Max, just name it." It took a minute for the words to form in Max's mind and when they finally came out they sounded shaky. "George, I want you to keep a close eye on things over at my place and call me if Virginia comes home in the middle of the day again. Don't wait for the screaming, call me when her car shows up. And if there's anybody with her let me know that too." "I'm sorry Max but I'll do what you ask. What are you going to do?" Max looked up at his neighbor's face and said, "Frankly I don't know. I guess I'm going to confront her. Other than that I don't know anything." "Well let me give you some friendly advice," George said putting his hand on Max's shoulder. "Don't do anything stupid. My son was in the same situation you are and did something that landed him in prison for six months. I don't want you to do anything to hurt Virginia or get yourself hurt. Come over here and get me before you do anything, but be calm and think first. Okay?" Max gave a half-smile to his friend before walking back to his car and driving away. ******** Five hours later Max pulled up in front of his brother's house. He didn't get out he just sat behind the wheel trying to make the ache in his heart and head go away. It wouldn't. The relentless pounding buried all ability to think rationally. He knew the pain was real but didn't know if it was emotional or physical. But he knew where it came from. Every part of his body emitted some sort of distress signal telling him that his body was on the verge of collapse. And he knew his mind was close too. His stomach was on the verge of erupting. The staccato rat-tat-tat of his heart echoed in the empty car. The rale that was his breathing sounded like the final gasps of a dying man. But at the center of his universe was a soul with a giant hole as big as outer space. At that moment he would have welcomed death. Tap. Tap. Tap. Again knocking interrupted him, this time on his passenger side window. Max turned to look and saw Ed's face in the window. Without consciously willing his body to do so, one hand reached down and pressed the 'door unlock' button. Ed scooted in the empty seat and shut the door. Both men sat in silence. Ed looked at his brother and saw something he'd never seen before. Max's face was expressionless. Gone was his almost constant smile and gone was the sparkle in his eyes. Whatever turmoil was going on behind his eyes there was no reflection of it on his face. Marble statues showed more emotion than Max. "Max?" Ed asked in a low voice. "Talk to me brother. What's going on? You got me really worried." For the longest time Max didn't do anything more than stare out the windshield, he didn't move, he didn't even seem to blink. "Max, are you there? It's me, Ed. I'm here for you, just please talk to me." Max's head slowly rotated and he looked straight into his brother's eyes. He still didn't say anything; he just stared with hollow eyes. "Max, you're scaring me bro, what's wrong?" Ed begged. "Is it Virginia?" Max's expression changed. In a matter of a second the marble statue expression morphed into one of absolute pain and suffering, then just as quickly back to nothing. "I... I... I have a problem at home," Max finally said under his breath. "I... I think Virginia's playing around on me." Now Ed's face took on the expression of horror. "Uh that's bullshit man," Ed finally choked out. "Virginia would no more do that than you would. She loves you just as much as you love her. What makes you think that?" Real Life Tragedy Max's mind focused on one image as his words came out. "A wet spot." "A what? A wet spot? Oh Jesus!" Silence returned and both men stared out the front of the car. Minutes later Ed spoke. "What are you going to do?" "I've thought a lot about it since... since I found... it," Max stammered. "I haven't been able to think straight. One minute I'm calm and rational and the next I'm screaming and beating on the steering wheel. Nothing makes sense. I can't think straight. The only thing I'm absolutely sure of is if I saw her right now I'd probably do something stupid. I need to get away and have some time alone to think. Maybe I can figure out what to do and maybe I can't. Either way I've just got to get away." Ed put his hand out and touched his brother's arm. Max never moved. Finally Ed spoke. "Listen, why don't you hole up in the spare room in the loft over the office? There's an old bed up there and you'd be close by so I can keep an eye on, uh, things. I'll bring you some food and we can take some time out of the day to talk, when you're ready of course. And you won't be too far from home in case you want to talk to Virginia." "Yeah, but what am I going to tell... her?" "Shit man, you can't even say her name you're so fucked up! Don't worry about it, I'll call her tonight and say we've got to pull an all-nighter to get some job done or some bullshit like that. I'll cover for you and I won't let on that you think something's up." "You'd do that for me?" Max said, his expressionless face breaking just a bit. "Absolutely, you're my little brother, we're family. I'd do anything for you man." After a minute Max reached forward, turning the key to start the car. Ed patted his brother on the shoulder and got out. ******** In the morning Ed found his little brother curled up in the fetal position on top of the old bed in the loft over the office. The junk normally stored on top of the bed now sat on the floor in the corner and from somewhere clean sheets draped over the mattress. A small table from downstairs sat next to the bed with Max's wallet and keys on top. "Hey Max, come on, wake up," Ed said in his best fake cheery voice. "Breakfast." Max stirred, rubbed his eyes, and inhaled the aroma of the coffee Ed set on the table. When he finally got out of bed and relieved himself the smell of food overwhelmed him. Whatever it was, it smelled good. Just then he realized he hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday and at the same time realized what had happened since then. Suddenly all the pain and images flooded back into his head. Breakfast didn't smell so good now. Every thirty minutes or so Ed poked his head into the loft to see if his brother was still alive. He was. Mostly he sat on the bed or at the table with his head in his hands rubbing his temples. Ed left him alone to think. At noon Ed brought up a couple sandwiches and a bottle of water. He didn't say anything, just set the food down and left. Around two o'clock Ed poked his head in the loft again. "Hey there. I just want to let you know that I've got to make a run over to the Heywood Apartments project. It seems like one of the boneheads miscounted the number of shrubs they need and I've got to take a dozen more over right away. I'll be back in a half hour. Are you going to be okay while I'm gone?" Max turned to look at his brother and shook his head 'yes' then turned back to his worries. Max heard the truck pull out of the lot with his brother in it and noticed the light on his cell phone blinking. The number was George's. "Hello?" Max said. "Hi Max, it's me, George. Listen you asked me to watch your place and call you when Virginia came home during the day again. Well, she just pulled in the driveway a minute ago. And Max, I'm sorry to say this but she wasn't alone. There was some guy with her. Sorry about that Max." "Okay thanks George. Don't do anything, just sit tight. I'll be there in a bit." More gravel spewed up behind his car as he tore out of the parking lot, more speed laws were broken, and more pain in his head and heart beat him down as he drove. Max had no plan other than to stop his wife from doing what he knew she was doing. Her car was in the driveway when he pulled up behind it. Old George stood on the front porch and waved but Max never saw him. Max wasn't trying to be quiet; he just opened the front door and walked in. That's when he heard it. "Uh! Uh! Uh! God yes. Harder. Oh my God! Oh my God! Yes! Harder!" Max immediately knew his wife's voice. He froze. He couldn't move another step. He stopped frozen like a marble statue in the living room as her pleasure noises filled the house. "Oh yes! Yes! Yes! That's the spot. That's it. Right there. Harder. God yes, harder!" Max fell to his knees and put his hands over his ears hoping to shut out the tsunami of sounds invading his mind. He tried to scream but the sound wouldn't come out as he knelt on the floor looking like the Edvard Munch painting. The torture continued unabated crushing Max's mind in its wake. "Fuck me harder. Fuck me. That's it. That's it. I'm almost there. Just fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" Max's scream face disappeared, his hands falling to his sides. Gone was the silent scream. In its place was the marble statue expressionless face. His eyes had no lights behind them. His mind was gone, and so was his soul. The lid of the pressure cooker just blew off. He was on automatic. He didn't have the conscious will to move but his body did what it did without control. Max walked into the little cubby-hole of a room he called his study and took a box down from the top shelf of the bookcase. "Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh God, I'm coming! YES!" Max took out a birthday present from his brother, a Glock 17 semi-automatic pistol. He unlocked and removed the gun safety lock, picked up a full clip and shoved it home. Putting in his pocket two other clips full of 17 cartridges each he turned and walked down the hall. "Oh my God, oh my God, God here it comes! Here it comes! Unnnnhhunhhh." The final syllable of her passion filled the house with a high pitched scream. And most likely George heard it next door too. Max quietly entered the room and watched from the foot of the bed as two bodies contorted on top. Virginia was naked and on her back with her arms and legs tightly clamped around some guy on top. Her eyes squeezed tightly closed with her mouth wide open finishing her orgasm. Whoever her lover was his hairy hips pumped violently in between Virginia's legs trying to follow her orgasm with his own, his face mashed into her shoulder, his eyes buried in her hair. Their bodies bounced up and down as one, their grunts in unison. Her lover started emitting animal-like sounds of his own as his hips slammed in between her outstretched legs over and over. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The man on top screamed, not because his orgasm hit but because of the three bullets entering his back. Three small fountains of blood spurted upward. BOOM! BOOM! Two more bullets entered his ass, tearing big chunks of meat off, blood splattering all over the sheets. Virginia's eyes flew open looking up at her lover and then over at the man standing by the bed with the gun pointed at them. Terror slammed into her mind at the realization of what she saw. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The first shot tore through the man's skull spewing pieces of skin and bone all over the headboard. The second bullet followed the first and came out his cheek entering his lady lover's left temple. The third shot into the side of his head was so violent it threw him off of the naked body beneath him and onto the bed beside her. His body jerked violently. BOOM! BOOM! One shot ripped into her right nipple and the other splashed into the puddle of sweat between her breasts. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! None of these shots hit living tissue. They struck the bed and the wall and the ceiling. Max screamed as he emptied his clip around the room. The pistol's slide remained back as the last bullet shell casing ejected and without thinking he pushed the button to eject the empty clip and shoved a full one home. Then as the slide slammed forward to load a bullet in the chamber he looked over at the two naked, blood soaked lovers. The room was silent. Her body lay on the bed twitching, spasms from misfiring nerves and destroyed brain tissue being the last moves she'd ever make. She was in the throes of death. Blood and saliva bubbled up out of her mouth. Her head turned toward Max. For an instant her eyes focused on him, a little smile grew on her lips. She became still, except for one arm. It lifted as if to reach out and touch Max's face one last time, hanging in the air with an outstretched hand toward him. It hung silently for a moment then slowly dropped to the bed in a puddle of blood at her side, blood which flowed from her face and her chest. She was dead. Virginia's lover rested on his side next to the dead woman. His eyes peered upward blankly and his mouth silently screamed out from his own dance with death. The cock that was inside his married lover just moments before lay shriveled up against his thigh, a trickle of cum still flowing out the tip. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! It took two shots to sever his penis from his body and another to make a pool of goo out of his balls. BOOM! One final shot wiped the smug, horrified expression from the dead man's face taking with it most of his upper lip and nose. Max just stood there looking down at the carnage. There were no thoughts in his head, everything was gone. He was on automatic. He neither smiled nor frowned. He felt nothing. He just turned and walked out of the bedroom and out of his house for the last time. Old George met him in the driveway with a horrified expression on his face. "My God Max, what did you do?" George yelled as he approached. When he saw the gun in Max's hand he turned and squatted down behind the car. Max never acknowledged him or the siren's wail off in the distance. He just calmly got in his car and drove down the street passing the police cars as they approached. ******** Every police department in the state was on the lookout for Max. He was the prime suspect in the murder of his wife and her lover. They called him 'a person of interest' but that was just a euphemism for what he really was, a murderer of two people. The television stations displayed his picture on every news broadcast and even had several 'break-in reports' about police rushing to his reported sighting. His picture was on the front page of the City Chronicle for two days before it migrated to the third page. But Max had disappeared like a thief in the night. Max didn't really disappear. He just drove to the one place where he used to go as a boy to be alone and think. Not far from his parent's house was an old deserted railroad turntable and equipment shed. Max sat on the ancient, deserted railroad tracks alternately putting the gun in his mouth and raging to the heavens. Neither brought any satisfaction. When he tried to end his pain, images of what he left behind in his bedroom filled his head. When he screamed into the night, echoes of his wife's passion filled his ears. Sights, sounds, and even smells of the carnage of his life consumed him. He couldn't go forward and he couldn't go back. He was a walking dead man no matter what he did. But he also couldn't end it. After three days in his private hell, Max's mind cleared enough to let him think straight for the first time since old George's phone call at the landscape yard. He understood his predicament. He knew what he had done. The hole Virginia tore in his soul and the sounds of her passion echoing through the house were the only things he could think about. In the end he decided to go back to town and turn himself in. Without thinking, just like the shootings a few days before, he picked himself up off the old railroad tracks and in the middle of the night drove to a park near his home where he sat on a picnic bench waiting for enough nerve to drive to the police station. His gun sat beside him on the bench. In the morning runners started passing by. Every so often one would give him a questioning look and a couple turned and ran in the opposite direction. Max just sat at the table with his head in his hands quietly crying. Nothing happened for a long time, that is until the police arrived. "Excuse me sir, can I see some identification?" asked one of the two police officers standing next to the picnic table. Both uniformed officers had their hands on their pistols, still holstered but with the cover flap open and ready. Max lifted his head to look at them. His face had no expression his eyes dull, just like before, when he killed two people. And like the time before his expression morphed into one of hate and rage. "What in the hell are you hassling me for?" Max screamed. "Go talk to that bitch. She's the one who did all this. Arrest her! Throw her ass in jail. And take lover-boy with you. Just get out of my face and leave me the fuck alone!" The two officers looked at one another quite shocked. The first one took his service revolver out of his holster and held it down behind his leg. The second thought a more conciliatory approach would be best. "Sir, please don't take that attitude with us. We just need to see some identification. That's all." Max stood and faced the officers. He still had his gun in his right hand down at his side. "Listen ass hole, I'm not going to show you any identification. You..." Both officers quickly drew and pointed their guns at Max. They both screamed in unison, "FREEZE!" The officers crouched in a ready stance holding their guns with both hands at arms length aimed directly at Max's heart. "DROP THE GUN," the second officer yelled. "DON'T MOVE, JUST DROP THE GUN. NOW!" Max turned away from the officers and started flailing his arms and screaming. "This is my gun and I'm keeping it. You're going to have to pry..." The second officer tried to calm his voice but the tension was evident in his speech. "Sir, turn around slowly and put the gun on the picnic table. NOW! We won't hurt you if you set the gun down." The first officer spoke into his radio microphone, "Officer needs assistance. Lake Eisenhower State Park picnic area two. Send back-up. NOW!" "SET THE GUN DOWN!" the first officer yelled. Max turned and yelled "FUCK YOU!" and raised his gun. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Over and over the officers shot. The gunfire sounds overlapped and deafened the officers. Max fell backwards against the picnic table. The impact with the table broke the gun from his hand and he fell in a heap beside it. The two officers stood still, breathing heavily, still pointing their guns at the now still body of Max, ready to shoot again if he moved. Neither noticed that the slides on their guns were in the back position telling them their weapons were empty. One officer slowly moved forward to check on Max. The other noticed his gun and quickly reloaded. Max never moved as the first officer reached down and picked up Max's gun. "Control. Send an ambulance to Lake Eisenhower State Park picnic area. One victim down with multiple gunshot wounds. AND WHERE'S OUR BACKUP?" "Is he breathing?" The first officer asked. The second officer looked at Max closely. "Yeah, he is. Tell the ambulance to get a move on." ******** Ed was at Max's side when he died. Max never regained consciousness and they never took the handcuffs off that locked him to his hospital bed. Ed spent a full day at City Police headquarters telling them everything he knew, which wasn't much. Old George was there too giving his statement. After a few days the hospital released Max's body. Ed had it taken to the same funeral home where Virginia's body was already awaiting cremation. Without any ceremony, without any service, Max and Virginia were cremated. Ed took their ashes home and put them in his spare bedroom and mourned the loss of his brother and friend. So goes real life. So much tragedy. And for what? ******** Afterword: For the next few weeks I (the author of this little story) read the web edition of the same Midwest newspaper hoping to find some follow-up to the story I read in the San Francisco airport. This short blurb appeared two weeks later. City police: Police close double homicide case By Anna Nonymous City Chronicle Breaking News Team May 29, 2013 City police have closed the murder investigation of Virginia Bloom and Jon Thompson. As reported in the City Chronicle last week, Maxwell Bloom was shot by City police officers in Lake Eisenhower State Park when he pointed a gun at them. Ballistics tests proved that the gun Mr. Bloom was carrying was the one used to kill his wife Virginia Bloom and a local real estate agent Jon Thompson. Both Ms. Bloom and Mr. Thompson were found shot to death in the bedroom of the Bloom's home several days before the incident at Lake Eisenhower. Mr. Bloom died from his wounds three days after being shot by officers, a hospital spokesperson said. The City Chief of Police commended the officers for reacting quickly and correctly to the threat imposed by Mr. Bloom and commended detectives for a quick resolution of the double homicide case. He also noted that the two officers discharged their service revolvers a total of 28 times in the line of duty but the perpetrator was hit only three times. "I'm recommending a firearms recertification of the officers in question. At 20 feet they should have been able to strike a stationary target more than three times." The two officers involved in the shooting have been returned to duty, according to a police official. ******** After reading the follow-up article, I (the author) spent a lot of time trying to figure out why all of this happened. What was so important that three people had to die over it? Could this tragedy have been prevented? All I really know is that three people are dead, three people that for all intents and purposes are no different than me, just your average working stiff. What really bothers me is the thought that given the right circumstances I could either do what Max did or end up like Virginia and Jon. Why did Virginia have an extra-marital affair in the first place? Was it just meaningless sex and there was no love involved or was her marriage with Max in jeopardy? I can't imagine her to be anything but a caring and loving wife who constantly doted on her husband. Either she was an actress worthy of an Academy Award or she really did love Max. We have no way of knowing why. Virginia took her secrets with her to her grave. What caused Max to go over the edge and murder two people? Were there signs that people didn't see that could have told them something tragic was in the offing? Did he have some sort of mental breakdown? We can only speculate but it seems likely. No sane person would murder two people in cold blood like he did. And what were Max's intentions when he raised his gun and pointed it at the police officers? Did Max commit suicide using the two officers as his executioners? It seems likely but nobody can really know for sure. Max took his secrets with him to his grave too. There are more questions than answers. There's so much we'll never know. This story isn't like a lot of stories with clean-cut endings and everybody walking off into the sunset knowing every detail of what happened from beginning to end. This is as close to reality as you can get. We know a lot, but we don't know everything. We know what, we don't know why. For that we can only use our imagination.