The Interview

The Interview

By Exlus Bennett

I’m led down the hall towards a secure room.  The hall is brightly lit with those new green bulbs, you know, the ones that spiral.  I never noticed the irregular brick lines in the wall before.  Funny things you notice when you let your mind drift.  The door to the room is opened for me and I walk in and take a seat at the table where the interview is to take place.  I hear security locks and conversation on the other side of the room.  So much precaution is taken to make sure nothing happens.  I appreciate the efforts.  I sit nervously, trying to exercise my patience while the security guards get their act together for my interview…and then I hear tumblers roll and locks clank and then they escort him in.

He’s not much to look at, he’s not an imposing man, I mean I’m not impressed and yet there is a presence about him that draws me in.  I admit that I am curious as to why he wanted to talk to me.  I look at him as he enters the room and sits down.  This is our third meeting; you’d think he’d be more cordial than that.  We place our hands on the table, palms down to reassure each other that there are no weapons in our possession.  At this stage of the game I am totally secure with what we are doing here, but, if it makes him feel better about our meeting, fine.  I motion for the recording to begin and we start. 

I ask him why do we always start talking about ‘him’?  He replies “He is an interesting individual.  I admit that I was taken by his charisma and his psychic.  The way he views the world is very interesting to say the least”.  That much is true, he does have a way of looking at the word that is different than what the average person is exposed to even I have found myself thinking about the way he would look at things, genius!  Here we are, two grown men fawning over him like he is some type of rock star.  I ask him if he minds if I smoke? “No, go right ahead” he says calmly.  He gives me a weird look as I lift the cigarette to my mouth.  I stop and say “I know, I know, these things will kill me”.  He cracks a slight smile, he sees the irony in my statement.  He leans so far forward towards me, the security guards watching us through the doors get anxious.  He says “I want to talk about him now”.  I light my cigarette and respond casually, “Really?”  I mustn’t appear to be too excited, although this is what I really want to do.  Finally he blurts out “Let’s talk about Doctor Jack”.  I don’t know if it happened, but, I felt a smile on my face.

There are several prepared folders on the table, I reach for one and open it.  There’s a bunch of newspaper clippings being held in it.  The city beat headlines reads “Two Persons Killed in Home Invasion”.  My heart beats faster from the adrenaline as I slide the newspaper clipping to him.  He takes a deep breath and looks at the clipping, his hands shakes, but just barely.  You wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t looking for it.  That’s a sign of remorse.  Good to see it…the article affects him.  “This couple was guilty of no crime and no apparent indiscretions”, he starts to say, “So why do you think Doctor Jack targeted them?”  I look into his eyes so I can see truth in them as I ask “Why do you think?”  He pauses a moment and begins “They may have represented his own parents…in another lifetime.  He may have found a way to deal with childhood issues left unresolved”.  I encourage him, “Go ahead”.  He takes a deep breath and looks at the article again “I think Doctor Jack not only saw his own parents in these people, but, his own origins”.  I interject “Do you think it was his own origins or could he be making a statement about today’s society?”  He gives me a curious look “Why would you think it would be about society?”  I offer my personal insight to him “Here you have two middle aged persons who were white, average, middle to high income and comfortable in their home and lifestyle.  By killing them, is Doctor Jack actually attacking our society structure?”  He stops to think about what I said, “I’ve never considered that theory before. ‘ Interesting angle on his activity”.  I reach into the folder and slide out another news clipping from Newsweek; “Human Dissection in Suburbs!”  He looks at the article and his eyes widen…It’s almost like he was there, reliving it again.  I reach for the article slowly.  He sees my hand reach for the paper and slide it back to within my possession.  I ask him “Why do you think he feels the need to dissect his victims?”  He thinks for a moment “I don’t think he looks at it as dissection as separation”.  “Interesting” I reply “why do you think that?” “It’s because the cuts are so deliberate and the parts are either destroyed or placed in a different location.  This would indicate that he doesn’t want the victim to ever be whole again”.  “So in accordance to your previous theory, he is trying to cause separation in society to the point of total anarchy?” I pitch to him.  He thinks it through and responds “Yes, yes! But to what gain?” I ponder the question.  I’ve seen men like Doctor Jack before…no, correction, I’ve never seen a man like Doctor Jack.  He is calculating and precise on one account, savage and irrational on another.  The variation between the two, differ only by ticks on a clock.  I look across the table as he stares at me awaiting an answer or further insight into my mind.  I think carefully as to what kind of information I feed him, you don’t want a person like that in your head “I think his directive is vague.  He kills to create anarchy and dissects to make it absolute, but he is looking for unity and order”.  His eyebrows lifts on his wrinkled forehead, his eyes widen as if he finally sees the light “Do you really think that’s why he does it?” “I do” I answer.  He sits back in his seat and stares at me for a moment.  It’s uncomfortable to be stared at that long.  I finally light my cigarette and take a puff…a long deep drag.  I blow the smoke in the air and watch it swirl into the air vent.  This time he reaches for the news clipping folder and pulls out an article of some significance to him.  “These people” he says pointing to a printed family picture “these people didn’t do anything to anyone and yet he slaughtered them, why?”  I’m not sure if he is looking for me to answer or have it stay as a rhetorical question.  I attempt to give him something to expand on “I think that this family embodied all that he hated.  This was an act of emotion.  After all, he severed heads, cut off genitals and hands and bled out the family pet.  That was either an act of hate or…”  He prods “Or what?”  “Or it was training day…teaching his nurse and orderlies what his surgical skills are like”.  He asks me “Which one do you think it was?”  I look at the family picture again and study the faces of the victims.  “It was probably class training” I offer.  My statement was bland and ‘matter of fact’ which clearly irritated him.  He says with some aggression in his voice “I thought we were exchanging ideas on what motivates Doctor Jack.  Now it seems like you are uninterested in truthful theory and offer half hearted reasoning”.  I smile weakly at him.  He is right I am uninterested at this point.  As quickly as the conversation has started, I was done with it.  He looked at me as if I was going to say something to re-ignite the conversation.  He is probably worried that the guards will come in and take him away if they see us sitting in here saying nothing.  I have no desire to play into his ‘wants’ and ‘whims’.  I tell him “I’m sorry, but our interview is over for today”.  His eyes pop open in surprise “But, we’ve just started, we were going to talk about how Doctor Jack actually recruits for his ‘staff’.  Are his nurses real nurses? Where does he find his orderlies? Aren’t you interested in all of this?” he asks me.  “Up until this point I was happy to engage you in a sincere psychological profile of him.  Now I see you’ve changed the demeanor of our discussion and with that change lies the reason you and I are having these talks” I tell him.  He feigns stupidity “What do you mean?” “Please don’t insult my intelligence now.  After three days of us talking, you should know by now that I am not easily fooled by disguised emotions” I continue as he stares at me with intent “You were doing so well.  We were developing trust and now you played your hand too soon and now there is nothing left for us to salvage.  We’re done”.  I then yell for the guard.  He jumps to his feet almost hysterical “That family had their heads cut off for fun?” He lunges at me in furious fashion.  The guards get into the room in time to stop him from reaching me.  He tries to break free of the guards, but, like I said he is an unimposing man.  They hold him tightly.  He yells at me “Why did the heads have to be cut off?”  I smile at him gently and say “I can see the family resemblance”.  This reporter had more invested into this story than the story of Doctor Jack.  While I…I am happy to go back to my cell where I will spend the rest of my days at…or until Doctor Jack decides he needs one of his orderlies.
-End