This car has finally let me down. I jump out into the storming rain. Still on the phone with my brother, trying to encourage him that things will change.
I don’t know if he hung up on me or not, But the signal was lost. I tried calling him back, but instantly, the line was dropped.
Running as fast as I can. I’m still a couple of blocks away. Not wanting to take any chances. I dialed 911 just in case.
My mind and I are racing. My God, this is my young brother. A hug and a tap on the back isn’t enough, when the problems so deeply seeded, takes A life of its own, before anyone else is able to see it.
I put my phone in my back pocket and tried to run faster, after I dialed his number again and still, there was no answer.
The rain has slowed, but I’m soaked and wet. I’m trying’ to take a shortcut if I can remember the way.
An old man who’d just walked onto his porch is cursing at me for jumping over his gate.
Hearing the sirens gave me the strangest feeling. I’ve heard them many times before, but this time it felt rather daunting, because now I knew exactly Where these sirens were going.
I made it to the end of my brother's street. I catch my breath and see something that I couldn’t believe.
In the yard, they were covering what looks to be a body.
I must’ve kept on walking, because I didn’t notice my feet on the lawn until I was touched in the chest by an officer.
I was so numb, and so out of it, I said excuse me to the officer and tried to step around him. While being grabbed and subdued, I glanced up at the porch and see blood all over it, and two more bodies near the front door, whom the officers haven’t had time to cover yet.
Although I see this with my eyes, I’m not really grasping what is happening. I finally notice the person next to me, who appears to be a detective, trying’ his best to question me.
I mumbled, “Yes sir; this is my brother's house, and “Yes, he lives here with his family.”
With my mind gradually piecing things together, I started yelling, “No! no! no!” hysterically. Fighting and pushing officers away. As they tell me to calm down. Pulled my hands behind my back and proceeded to cuff them down.
As I sit here inside the back of this ambulance and begin to gather myself; I hear the paramedic say to one of the officers: “You can ask him a few questions now, but please try not to press, we want to take him in to administer a couple more.
As soon as the detective says, “Mr. Allen.”
I say, “just tell me what happened.”
He says, “when was the last time you spoke with your brother?”
“I said first, you need to answer my question.”
“Sir, there appears to have been some sort of dispute. A young boy, a girl, and woman, whom we’ve identified as the mother were all shot and is deceased. I am sorry for your loss, but we do need to know the father, your brother’s whereabouts.”
“Is he not in there?” “No, he is not in the house.”
“Well, the last time I spoke with him, was like an hour or so ago. He sounded agitated and very distraught. As a matter a fact, that’s when I dialed 911 asking them if they could send someone out.”
Just then, a lady officer walks over, and says: “Detective Pierce Sir,”
He then takes a few steps over taking pause to say, “Mr. Allen, pardon me.”
She says “Sir, I have something’ I think you need to see.”
With the loud crackling thunder, and lightning electrifying the night sky, I feel like I’m taking part in a horror film, my mind starts replaying everything over and over, I take a deep breath trying to keep my composure.
The lady officer is still whispering something into his ear. What I overheard, wasn’t very clear, but sounded like, “Under her dress,” He receives a note, and says “Thanks, I’ll handle the rest.
Oh! And Officer Garcia,”
“Sir!” … “Let’s not tell anyone else.”
With his attention back to me, he says, “This is a note that was found in the house. It has all the victim's names on it, which have all been crossed out. But beside each name, it says, “Have chosen you,” Do you know what this means?”
“No sir, I don’t have a clue.”
Everyone stopped immediately to see who was running towards the crime scene and yelling something which appears to be directed at me. When I heard, “Pete! it was an accident, I didn’t mean to shoot,”
I knew it was my brother, and the officers knew it too.
Before I could tell him to stop running, the officers pulled out their guns yelling, “Stop”!
But when he pulled out his own gun, trying to empty the magazine,
I knew his intentions weren’t the officers, because the shots he fired, was directed towards the detective and me.
As I raised up from the back of the ambulance, I was shot in the arm and leg. With paramedics surrounding me, I see an officer over my brother's body, look up and say: “No sir, I’m afraid he’s dead.”
I’m in the back of the ambulance, sirens blazing on my way to the hospital.
I turn and see Detective Pierce, refusing to take a seat. Telling the paramedic that he’s fine, and that he needed to talk with me. They tell him he needs to stop moving around and to remain calm, for he, himself, was bleeding from the arm.
Aloud, I said, he said:
“Pete! It was an accident; I didn’t mean to shoot.”
That’s when the detective said, “look, Mr. Allen when I talked to you before, I didn’t tell you the whole truth. Not only did the note have the names written of the three victims, your name was written on it too.”
And although the three victim's names were all crossed-out
Yours was not. And beside each name didn’t just say: "Have chosen you, what I alluded you to. But did say, “Pete, Satan has chosen you, and that is what your brother yelled, right before he began to shoot.
We’d contacted your wife, and sent patrols to your home, because we’ve found evidence in your brothers’ house that led us to believe, he was not acting alone.
This has the similarities of a case I worked fifteen years ago. Six people were murdered, in what was deemed to have been a cult. But we never found the Perp., or perpetrators involved, however, we did find this same type of note.
I received a called last night from someone who threatened my life. After I did a trace, it led me here, to your brother's house.
Also, Mr. Allen, you should know, my daughter was one of the six murdered. And when I opened my mail this morning, I pulled out a photo of my daughter’s death, that wasn’t taken by forensic; so, it had to have been taken, by someone linked to the victims.
Now, as long as I’m still breathing, I refuse to let history continue repeating itself. So, Mr. Allen, I need you to really to think hard, and see if you can remember anything else.”
Although I was in extreme pain, I heard every word.
I didn’t know if I was a suspect or not, but by the look on his
face, I knew he would never stop, until all who is involved, was either dead or caught.
I just whispered, “Okay, Detective Pierce. I don’t know how much I can help, but I will surely try.”
My cell phone rings, we both see a text that read,
“You’re being watched.”