Fernando Romero
November 22nd. 21:04 hrs. Unit 18, 13 Broome Avenue, New York. Murdered.
Perpetrator: Omar Alderson
One day I received the name while shooting target alone at the booth, I was curious, excited, and angry. Curious because what kind of person would do such a thing to another human being. Excited because it had been a long time since I had returned to the living side. And the last emotion stuck with me after seeing the vision of the attack. I couldn't see the victim's or the killer's faces; all I could see was the living room with lots of clothes and trash on the floor. I felt the rage crept into my mind. It was the first time I received the name of the killer.
"…Alderson…" August kept repeating the name for several times. His brows furrowed. He was deep in thought.
"Do you know him?"
"I don't know. His name sounds familiar, but I could be wrong. Alderson isn't that unique surname."
"Well, that's not important. He's a murderer. He's going to kill this man. What's wrong with this world!"
August gave me a look as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't. He'd been doing it more lately. It got me some time, to be honest. I just wanted to him to spill it and said it to my face, whatever it was.
"Don't you want to see him before collecting his soul?"
"No. What's the point? It can only make me what to save him. I can't save him, can I?" I paused, "did you come and see me? Did you observe me before I die?"
"I did."
"Why?"
It wasn't like he cared. Why did he do that?
"No reason," he lied. I could see it in his eyes.
I'd never learned how he die or how he'd become a grim reaper. August didn't like to talk about his previous life. He said that he forgot everything in the past and enjoyed being grim reaper. I doubted he told me the truth.
"If you're not going to the living side now, then I'll go back to the garden."
Garden was a code name for the library. I learned that from Mandy.
"What are you reading?"
"Book."
Duh!
I assumed that by allowing me to shoot with him, we had grown closer. It turned out that I was mistaken about our friendship. He was well-known in Jericho. Grim reapers admired him and looked up to him. Nonetheless, the man had secrets, and no one was close enough to him to be in his inner circle.
Or perhaps it was just me who didn't know what happened to him and was too afraid to question anyone.
On November 22nd, D-day, August and I blinked to the living side. He hadn't yet allowed me blink on my own. I wondered if he'd ever let me blink.
I'd never been to this part of town before. The buildings were all the same height and shape. Broome Avenue had two lanes and was probably unoccupied most of the time since children were playing on the street. Despite the noise, the area appeared to be pleasant and bustling. Who would have guessed that a murder would take place in just a few hours?
Fernando Romero rented a one-bedroom, one-bathroom home in a five-story building. When August and I arrived, he wasn't there. His room was a shambles, with mounds of dirty clothes and trash on the living room floor. His bedroom was no different.
"I thought Jamie's bedroom is bad. This is worse."
There was a speck of white powder on the living room coffee table and the bedroom bedside cabinet. My sympathy for him had significantly dwindled.
"We should have gone somewhere else and come back on time."
Even August couldn't stand this place, but it was too late to leave.
"We should ventilate the room. Can we do that? He wouldn't notice, would he?"
"Who cares?" August shrugged. Then he cautiously moved across the room, avoiding dusty garments and noodle boxes, to the small window and opened it.
Fresh air greeted both of us, bringing smiles to our faces.
The kids on the street's giggles took me back to a time when I was a kid, playing with my friends after school in their backyard as my mom tried to feed me dinner. She said it was much easier to feed Jamie. My brother enjoyed food, whether it was meat or vegetables.
Oh, I missed them. I missed them so much.
"He's here." August nudged me with the elbow.
A part of Fernando's body was visible, he was talking to another person which I could not see.
"Thanks bro. I know I could count on you."
It was a food delivery service. I bet he made a phone call on his way home.
Fernando was at least six feet tall. He resembled an NBA basketball player, sans the charisma. He had a crimson rose tattoo on both of his arms. I had to admit that it was a lovely rose. The man had swag, but it was street gang swag, not super star swag. I was convinced he was taking drugs. And his appearance convinced me that he was also a dealer.
"I don't like this guy."
I thought I accidentally said that aloud, but it was August who made the comment.
"Is this the first time we agree on something?" I made a joke. "Whether we like him or not, he's going to be murdered. No one deserves that."
August shot me the look like I just said something irrational.
"I won't do anything. You have my word."
Saving human's live wasn't an option for a grim reaper. There was an old proverb passed down from grim reaper to grim reaper; 'we're here to collect, not to protect.' We were a group of men and women on a mission.
As you might had noticed, I had learned a lot during the last few months. Salina was my first and only mistake.
Fernando didn't notice anything out of the ordinary in his room; the man had no idea his window had been opened. He was carrying a white carton from a Chinese restaurant, with the same branding as the other noodle boxes around him.
"Oh, I missed Chow Mein."
"Chow what?"
"You don't know Chow Mein? Well, the first time I tried it was when I lived in Philadelphia. Noodles and chicken are delicious."
Fernando gulped down his food. I couldn't help but swallowed my saliva.
"It's almost 9. How does he die?"
"He is to be stabbed too many times; I couldn't count."
The rage I'd sensed when I saw the vision came back instantly as if it'd never left.
"He's a big guy. How could someone stab him and where is that person?"
August looked out the window as he talked.
"I didn't see how the killer came in…is he falling asleep?"
The food box was dropped onto the floor. Fernando dozed off with chopsticks in his left hand. August and I exchanged glances. I got goosebumps when I heard the door creak open.
It was like watching a horror/suspense film when an unknown man entered the room, wielding a knife. You were well aware of what was about to occur. You wished you could turn away, but you couldn't.
The killer was serious and determined from the first stab in the chest. Fernando awoke, his eyes wide open. He was perplexed. He didn't want to go down without a fight, but he lacked the strength to do so. He was stabbed a second time while attempting to push the other man away. The killer was on top of Fernando as they both crashed on the floor. He had no possibility of defending himself as Omar Alderson repeatedly thrust the knife into his flesh.
The killer's cap logo reminded me of the food boxes on the floor. I realized Fernando had been drugged because Omar had put something in his food.
"Oh my god I know him."
I'd never seen August so terrified before.
"This is for my wife," Omar stabbed the man hard. "This is for my daughter!"
Every stab was brutal, till the floor became a puddle of blood. Omar was in tears. His hands shook, but he didn't stop. He mentioned names that I assumed were those of his wife and daughter.
"You can't get away now," Omar continued. "You are not getting away this time."
The final stab penetrated the lung. Omar let go of the knife. He was panting and sweating, desperately trying to regain his breath.
Fernando had already passed away at that point. In fact, after the fifth stab, he was dead. His spirit stood beside August, who forced him to stay till the end.
August summoned another grim reaper to take Fernando away. He'd never done it before, at least not in front of me. He took a step beside Omar and lowered his head.
"I'm sorry for your loss," August said.
Omar, of course, didn't hear him. I assumed he was going to leave, but he took his phone from his jeans pocket and dialed 911.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"I'd like to make a confession. I killed a monster. We're in Unit 18, 13 Broome Avenue. He's dead."
August and I would usually leave the location once our task were completed. This time, we both stayed to see what would happen. August explained that he was the one who collected the souls of his wife and daughter.
"He wasn't like this, you know," August said. "He was a good man, a caring person."
I wasn't surprised when Detective Carhart showed up on the scene. The crime scene investigators collected evidence from Omar, Fernando, and the scene. The cops then took him to the station.
We followed them into the interrogation room. On the desk were two files. Fernando's criminal record was the thicker one, and Omar's family was the thinner one. Detective Carhart and his colleague sat across from Omar.
The man had cleansed his face and hands and changed into more presentable attire, though some bloodstains remained visible.
Detective Carhart took few minutes to study the files, then gently asked question.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
Omar was more composed than before. He'd already ceased trembling. His attention remained fixed on his family's file.
"I've been following him since May since you, the cops, are powerless to stop him. Even if you know he's guilty, he got released. He was part of a gang and had backup. You know everything there is to know about him, but you do nothing. So, I've promised my family that he will get what he deserves. I knew he enjoyed Chinese food, and I'd worked my way up to that restaurant. I had been delivering his meals for weeks, but he had no idea who I was. He didn't remember me.
"He simply knew me as a delivery man, yet he trusted me. Crushing pills and putting them in his food was simple, very simple. I kept track of the time while waiting for him to fall asleep. The terror in his eyes as he realized who I was..."
"Was it worth it?" asked, another detective.
"Every single second," Omar answered without missing a beat.
"Do you know what's going to happen to you? You are a murderer now. You're not different from him."
"How could you say that? You read his files. You know what he did. It wasn't only my family. He was a murderer and a drug dealer. You sit here and do nothing! You can't even catch the guy!"
After a long pause, Carhart finally spoke.
"There are laws, Mr. Alderson. Laws that keep people from doing something they're going to regret."
"I have no regret, detectives. My fate had been sealed the moment I started it. I've got nothing to lose. I'll do it again and again. I don't care what's going to happen to me. Justice is served."
The detectives left Omar alone in the room. I observed him as he sat there staring at his own hands. Fernando murdered his family, and the authorities were helpless. As a result, he plotted his own course for vengeance.
I felt him. I knew he'd been through hell over and over again in his head. I knew he kept asking himself; should I do it? Should I be the one who act on it?
You are a murderer now. You're no different from him.
I've got nothing to lose. I'll do it again and again. I don't care what's going to happen to me. Justice is served.
Their words kept bouncing back and forth in my head.
What do I have to lose?