Voice of Frankie
I plan to kill a rapist, a liar and a politician. Now I imagine that you might be thinking that you have discovered the first and far too obvious twist in this tale already and that you believe that all three are one and the same person.
Well, you would be wrong. They are indeed three individual and very distinct people. Now why would I want to kill anyone, let alone three people? I have a simple answer for that.
They all, deserve to die.
Two for their sins and one because he was just too fucking stupid and busy whoring himself to the media to hear the truth and lacked the intellectual capacity to read facts and be advised. Thus, the far smarter liar got away with his twisted obsession and stripped the rape victim emotionally bare and inflicted selfish pain deeper and more life changing than any physical attack.
Let’s diverge for a moment and discuss the media. Incompetent, lazy, talentless lot that they are, feeding poisonous unsubstantiated bullshit to the 24/7 frenzy. They missed the real story. Political interference. Illegal release of documents. Lies and deceit. Absence of protocol leading to misery for the innocent and an open crack for the snake of a liar.
My God I have been patient. But all that has changed now. I no longer have the luxury of time. I must say though; I have not wasted the time which has been served to me. Not a moment has been squandered in the wait to see each one of these cowards delivered to the oblivion they so deserve. Oh no, I have been exceedingly patient, but do not, for one moment interpret that as inaction on my part.
Because I have been active.
I have used the years wisely. And it will be my right and my pleasure to see each one of them take their last filthy breath with my eyes on them.
So, what is your question, your thoughts streaming ahead of my words?
Is there an order? Are they to be killed together? Which one is first? Just how are they going to die?
Well of course, there is a precise order! Details, years in the making.
You don’t go about planning murder without meticulous detail, not if you intend to get away with it. And I do intend to get away with it. Just not in the way that you might imagine.
I will tell you this much.
There will be a suicide, a murder and an assassination. At the end of it, I intend to get exactly what I deserve. Plans such as mine require assets. Not just financial capital of which I have abundance. Though with regards to money I have liquidated and distributed my wealth, to the worthy. Contacts have been crucial. My time in the east has served me well. An eye for an eye – they get me.
The rapist was first. I knew he would be easy, living so isolated in his self-imposed prison of guilt and shame. Well that’s not enough. He has to pay more than that for the lives he wrecked. Yes, more than one victim. Usually young and naive with inexperience. Boys in the bodies of men. The coward certainly stalked and picked his prey. Fitting that he shot himself with a hunting rifle. Such an unknown and uncared for old man, no one was looking too hard into the circumstances of his not so terribly unexpected end. People knew about him all right. Alcoholic. Exactly why no one cared much to see him finally in the ground. But I had him on his knees first, blubbering over his sickness and thinking I could care less about the things his own Daddy did to him. That just made him all the worse in my thinking.
The next one was my specialty and the one that kept me going when I thought I might have doubted my own reserves to see this through. And to think that it all became possible by a chance sighting of his unforgettable wife with a curly headed boy in a south side drug store. One simple, unplanned run of the mill moment and I had the means to have access to the liar, by far the ugliest and most dangerous of the three cowards. If you knew how he manipulated a victim, just a boy really, but a boy on the cusp of manhood trying to make his way in the world who fell prey to a vile monster only to be manipulated for decades by the liar, intent on covering his own back.
A cunning man is a dangerous man indeed, but one that is both highly intelligent and a pathological liar, well, now that was a challenge.
She sleeps separate from him, in a back room. I know because I acquired an exceptional drone from my contacts. The car is kept on the driveway – helpful. It was a cold, dark morning – perfect. Helpful too that he was the type to spend obscene money on a bicycle and liked it to be seen. Timing was crucial and everything went to plan. I rolled that car down the dark drive moments after him. Snug in my beanie and blonde wig. Lights off. My device worth the outrageous amount I paid to override the system – easy.
Perhaps he heard the familiar engine as at the moment of impact he turned his head. There was not a split second of hesitation, the intention to be of brutal force with his orbit high and the road landing a guarantee of the end. My last look was planned, I wore a long black coat, black pipe jeans with ten inch heels on my boots. She is very tall, his wife. I rolled him over with my foot and the universe rewarded me as he opened his eyes for the last time to see me. I bent down close – the last words he heard – gutless liar. Do you think I went too far framing his wife? She knew, she knew from the days before and after as he lied and manipulated others in an attempt to hide his vast shortcomings. She can see what it is like to be wrongly accused, have ugly press. Shake up her pathetic life. Any half decent lawyer should get her sorted out in a relatively short time. Had I wanted to frame her and give her a jail stint, I certainly could have.
Now the big wig, interestingly that was the easiest of all. He personifies the term ego maniac. Thoroughly obsessed with himself, he likes to give off the persona of being an everyday sort of guy. Just one who throws lavish expensive parties for his mates and their old school friends then hides it with other government funded shows. He is unworthy and dumb. Old, out of shape and past his due date but his assassination will ensure the book – the real story will roar up the lists with the proceeds already tied to victim support.
I have been telling you that timing and planning are everything. Well, ironically not for this one. He broke from schedule. His ego served him to me. He drove his own car with his wife to the main mall. Maybe he is not so stupid after all, this act was guaranteed to give him a lot of media coverage. Just an ordinary guy giving his extraordinary visitors a little family time in his own publicly funded palace. The coffee shop is an open space. Way too easy, almost disappointing. There will be some minders around but they will hesitate here in public. I look harmless, that age where a woman begins to become invisible. My aim is better than good and I get close enough to look him in the eye, his face open to the accolades he expects me to bestow on him. He may live. If he does it will be with far reaching and life shortening disabilities. I knew where to aim. Most likely he will die.
The media would have loved that I sat down and finished his coffee. The adrenaline which had propelled me dissipated quickly and the weariness I felt settled in my bones. I was surprised that my removal was not rougher. The hundreds of phones made my exit almost regal. I kept my head high and my eyes conveyed no remorse, no fear.
The care here is more professional than I expected. End stage cancer is not for sissies and I am doing better than I would have in the public health system. I won’t make trial and that’s ok for every detail, document and proof has already gone to press in my book. Dedicated to the real victims, both of them.