Suffer the Children

Chapter 2


Robin left, pondering and pondering more the void of all she had on her hands. She went there assuming from the crime photos that he was an egotistical woman-hating juvenile delinquent, but there was nothing aberrant about him. The sexual abuse was apparent. She could tell by his refusal and quick answers that he was sensitive about the subject. It was clear he was dealing with post traumatic stress disorder.
Really, she was willing to bet money that he had been sexually or otherwise horribly abused, but without a statement from Julian, it really did no good to assume anything at all. Doubtful that she would ever get him to talk about it at all, she had another idea. Julian’s half sister, Micah Angeloro would be desperate to do anything to help her brother, even if it meant ratting out her Grandfather to help at least mediate Julian.
The fact was Julian had spent most of his life trying to take care of her, and since they’d gotten placed permanently into their grandfather’s home he’d barely let his baby sister out of his sight. She must have witnessed something, if not even experienced some sort of abuse herself.
That being said, a fact remained that whether or not he pled innocent, guilty or guilty by reason of insanity, her job remained no different. She was sent to analyze him, and while the situation was at great advantage to her, she would ravage it.
Many other psychologists were just waiting to pick him apart into hopeless little pieces, and perhaps, in Julian’s words, convince him that something happened that didn’t. They would eat him alive. His frailty was much too obvious.
Kody’s murders were legend in Saint Parrish. The sick and rebellious lifted him up on a pedestal. The holy and righteous condemned him to hell, and anyone who’d never heard the story would have thought it to be completely too rash to be true.
The coincidence behind his story was so bizarre that the maze of a mind such as Kody Angeloro’s would forever be exhumed by the curious. Even after his demise, his insanity seemed to live on, weaving a plot so thick and disturbing that because of him, murders that should have been concluded with his death were putting his son’s life in the hands of a cruel, judgmental society.
Robin turned up the car radio, and pulled the simple tie-back from her hair, as she turned down Azalea Drive. Her long black hair cascaded down, sweeping past slender shoulders. To feel it finally hanging down, free of the traitorous tie-back was nearly orgasmic, as the head-ache that was trying pitilessly to plague her through-out the session with Julian completely faded by the simple release of her hair.
There was an exact reason this road was called Azalea Drive. Beautiful Azalea’s in elicit colors of lavender, pink, yellow, white, and her personal favorite, blue, lined the street. Just behind the rainbow borders of beautiful flowers stood lovely Victorian homes. Some were a bit smaller than others but they were lovely all the same.
It was a beautiful sunny day, well passed five, so the traffic wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Saint Parrish, though old and small, was quite populated. Sometimes it seemed a little over-populated, and with all the wrong people.
Maybe it was only to appease herself that she wanted to prove Julian Angeloro insane – possibly guilty, but having a few tragic instabilities as well. She had studied his father’s case so many times she almost felt she knew his mind like the back of her hand. It was just too bad he had killed himself before anyone had a chance to speak to him. At least she had copies of his journals after much ass kissing when she was busy with her research for the true crime story Suffer the Children. God, she must have read his cryptic entries a thousand times. It was like crawling into a mind of a reality you had no idea existed.
There was a difference in normal people and people like Angeloro. Whereas everyone has drawn up the idea of murder at least once in their lifetime, he did such and acted upon the idea.
It didn’t take long to pull up into her driveway. Two large wrought iron gates stood open. She never shut them. She had decided long before that she wouldn’t bar herself off from the world. The most appropriate way to deal with life was head-on.
Robin pulled the car beneath the two car garage and turned off the engine. For several moments she sat there staring at the gray steering wheel in silent thought. What a waste of a day! She was no further than she’d been the last session she’d had with him.
At least she could have gone shopping, anything but this. Self-pity. That’s exactly what Robin felt. She had a determined idea to just skip throwing anything in the microwave, tell her son Joshua that her head hurt, and sleep the rest of the day.
Walking up to the door that led into the kitchen, she tried to convince herself that she was merely having a bad day. So what? He was afraid to admit anything. Shit happens! But just knowing that the odds of getting another patient like this was just so damned low made her want to bawl. How could it become a novel opportunity if he wouldn’t admit to anything?
She walked through the kitchen, carelessly tossing her keys and purse on the bar, and eventually found Josh in the Den playing video games, as was the usual for him.
“Hey, kid. I’m home.”
He didn’t even look up, but Robin had a sneaking suspicion that he would definitely have to swipe that curl out of his face any second. She barely could remember the last time he’d gotten a decent hair cut.
“Hey, Mum. I ordered pizza. There are leftovers in the fridge.”
Robin cringed at the tone of “role – reversal” in his voice. It left her feeling guilty about being a career mom. But she consoled herself by telling herself that Joshua hadn’t turned out bad at all. He was a wonderful son – a bit spoiled since the absence of a father but other than that he minded her, cleaned his room and for the most part made exceptional grades in school. He was a normal teenager, and at that moment she realized she was analyzing him as well.
Her thoughts returned to Julian. She wanted to visit him just to talk him out of pleading innocent suddenly. She wasn’t at all sure why she was beginning to believe his innocence. Eric would absolutely kill her, but it was weighing her down, the idea of his innocence. It was just a gut feeling. But Julian was so stubborn. She knew it would take more than a visit.
“Josh, I have a headache, honey. I think I’m going to go lay down. If anyone calls tell them I’m sleeping, okay?”
Still his eyes never once peeled off the screen of the skateboarding game.
“K, Mom.”
Robin walked up the stairs, found her bedroom and flopped down across the bed.
She remembered Julian’s eyes, dark and penetrating. Like a frightened animal. Why did she feel sympathy for him? Why couldn’t she feel disgust? Why did she feel that if she didn’t do something to help him, those eyes would forever haunt her? What if he really was innocent? From where she lay she could see her desktop computer, and the words that flowed across the screen over and over again: “Tis not to damn the mind that’s twisted, but to damn the hand that twists the mind”.
It was a small excerpt that Kody Angeloro had scribbled in his journal. The journal she swore she’d never read again… as if there was something she’d missed. The more she read those bright red words, the more she was tempted to pull out the briefcase beneath her bed which concealed the disk that contained Kody’s journal. Quite the writer he was, filling the pages with eerie poetry and writings of sadism in its most descriptive form.
It took Robin a few moments before sliding off the bed, to lie down far enough to pull the silver brief case from beneath the bed. Inside of it was the mind of Kody Angeloro. Inside of it were bits and pieces of his past, why he was what he was. Inside of it was truth about the frailty of life, not only the short lives of his victims, but the frailty of his own as well.
She flopped back down on the bed, dropping the briefcase down in front of her. Robin would do it again, read all of his writings from beginning to end. See some of the photos of exhumed remains, and of the few girls he’d left out in the open when he first started killing.
A photographic image formed in her head: a young girl, face down in the dirt. Hands taped behind her back. A rope led from her wrists to her neck, and a tire iron had been protruding from between her legs where he had shoved it up into her, all the way to the bend, presumably the same tool used to twist the rope when he finally strangled her to death. Bruises and knife slashes covered her nude bloodstained body. She was only his third victim, and only sixteen years old.
So it has been said by criminal profilers that one can determine that each crime became worse as the killer has more time to ponder over what he should have done. And this, being Angeloro’s third kill, was quite brutal.
His new fantasies of wanting more and more was inevitably what ended him. He was greedy, selfish, miserable, and extremely narcissistic, possibly the most dangerous type of predator. Narcissists know no limits.
None of that was evident with Julian. He was shy, jumpy, soft–spoken, and more importantly he loved his mother. He spoke of her highly. And Robin was certain that if he was one to kill women just for the sick thrill of it that it simply wouldn’t fit the profile.
It seemed others just didn’t care enough to see past Julian’s last name. Robin was guilty of judging him as well. Guilty of feeling anger at the innocence the boy’s father destroyed in his lifetime. Now she doubted herself, and pitied the poor kid. He should have gotten out of this town a long time ago. Not one of the family members of Kody’s victims would simply let it die. Julian was watched too closely.
Surprisingly, he seemed completely unaware that people were watching him and waiting for him to mess up, almost as though he was fighting to overcome his past and try to pretend he didn’t notice. Or…Maybe there was a curse on Saint Parrish. Right then she was feeling pretty cursed herself.
So why did she finally open the briefcase? Why did she reach into the case to retrieve the thick folder filled with pictures, DNA evidence conformation forms, autopsy information of his victims, and anything you could imagine one could learn about Kody Angeloro?
She turned on the bedside lamp and sat up Indian style on her large king size sleigh bed. Robin didn’t know why she picked king size. She was quite alone. She had a few flings here and there, but no one ever seemed to stick around very long. It was just as well, everyone was alone, but everyone creates a delusion that if they’re with someone they won’t be alone. She knew better. She knew everyone was lost in their own idealistic fantasies. And perhaps maybe if everyone looked at it that way they’d discover themselves to be insane as well. The difference was most people kept their fantasies, fantasies.
She flipped open the page. The mug shot of Kody Vincent Angeloro stared back at her. Her eyes scanned the reason for his arrest; assault and battery, and assault with intent to inflict bodily harm. Robin was aware that Kody’s father, Vincent, quickly posted his son’s bond shortly after he was arrested. It had been Kody’s own wife that filed the charges against him. Robin even had her statement, where she’d accused Angeloro of viciously attacking her, keeping her tied for almost an entire day to repeatedly beat her until the next thing she remembered was waking up two days later in an intensive care unit.
Once again her eyes fell upon the picture there. Kody’s dark eyes, so piercing, were so like Julian’s staring back at her from the photo. He was undeniably handsome, with wavy dark brown hair that fell a little passed his broad shoulders. You couldn’t tell he was Italian at one glance, as he looked more Spanish than Italian. At that time he looked so boyish and innocent. It almost made her shudder at how much his son looked like him.
Maybe evil places draw in evil people. She laughed at herself for being so irrational. She knew exactly what drew them in, the legend of Saint Parrish. It was a psychic field of energy, so they say, but she thought it to be complete horseshit.
By then she’d decided against looking at the crime scene photos. Her stomach just wasn’t in the mood for it. Instead she reached into a pocket of the folder and pulled free the c.d. that contained Kody’s Journal.
Quickly, she made her way to her computer, taking a seat and pressing the green button to insert the c.d. onto the tray. It took several moments for the file entitled Diary of a Madman to pop up. Quickly she clicked on the link and the glimpse into a madman’s mind began. She scrolled down and started to read…