Chapter Ten
Marshall Crawford
After the kids swept up all they could we made them go to sleep at Charles and Beth’s house. Their rooms were still a war zone and they still had school. Finally the floor swept and mopped we could walk without worry of glass. There was still nothing to eat on but paper plates which isn't a problem. We got three large pizzas mostly just to have to grab while we clean. We decided we were going to repaint the walls, it would be easier than trying to clean it all off. With everything swept we went up to bed, exhausted from the day.
The next day Margret chose to stay behind, calling off work for the week. I frowned. “Why don’t you let me handle this?” She looked up at me after she got done on the phone. The smell of coffee from the maker behind her floated in the air. “Because you shouldn't have to do this alone. This is my home too. It’s our home. Plus with an extra pair of hands we’ll get it fixed up faster.”
I nodded. “You’re right.” I smiled, continuing, going holding her around her waist. “You’re always right.” She smiled, kissing me before moving and pouring coffee in the few remaining mugs that were hidden in the back of the cabinet.
While we were discussing new room colors my phone rang and I knew the phone number as the police station. I picked up. “Hello? Yes this is he. Oh. Of course. We’ll be right there.” I hung up, feeling anxiety prickle at the back of my neck. Margret was looking worried. I looked at her. “They have Brent.” She paused for a second, letting it sink in before speaking. “Guess we should go then.” I nodded, going to get ready to go. Before I could go up the stairs Margret held my arm. I turned and she looked worried. “You going to be ok?”
I sighed, wrapping my arms around her. “With you there, always.” After a few seconds I let go of her, heading upstairs to change out of my pajamas. Margret not far behind me.
We drove down to the police station. Once inside we met Officer Angel who shook our hands and led us to the two way mirror room. Once inside I could see into the interrogation room. Without a doubt this is Brent. Brown hair spiked up into a small Mohawk, red and black plaid flannel shirt with a white under-shirt underneath but his attitude seems aloof. Like he doesn't care. Like theres a million other things he'd rather be doing.
Like he doesn't care his future is about to be ruined. He didn't care that he hurt a fifteen year old girl, nearly ruining her life. I didn't realize I was shaking until Margret held my hand. I looked to her, forcing myself to remain calm. “I’m fine Margret. Just...odd finally seeing his face in person.”
“You never met him before this Mr. Crawford?” Officer Angel said. I shook my head. “No.”
He nodded. “I’m going to start the interrogation. If at any time it’s too much, you can leave the room and I can inform you when were done.” Then he closed the door. I swallowed my nerves. This was it. This was the man that held whether or not my little girl would get justice for what he has done. I saw Officer Angel walk in the room and start speaking. Me and my wife watched with undivided attention.
“Mr. Brent Mitchel.” He said as he sat in front of him. Brent nodded, leaning back in his chair as if this was nothing. A casual conversation. “Yes sir.”
“Do you understand why you are here?”
He shrugged. “Not entirely but I’m willing to cooperate.” The officer nodded. “Do you know Morgan Crawford?”
Brent seemed to tense up just the slightest, sitting straighter. “Yeah. Is she ok?” I almost laughed hearing him say that. The officer spread out some papers. “What exactly is Morgan Crawford to you Mr. Mitchell? A friend? Girlfriend?”
Brent sighed, looking around the room. God I had a bad feeling. He spoke. “She’s just a friend.”
“You seem pretty aggressive toward someone that’s your friend.”
“Those are just texts and…” He sighed before continuing. “I have some anger issues, behavior issues that I’ve been working on since childhood. It should be in my medical file.”
The officer got the file from the table, opening it, flipping through the many papers before grabbing one. “Yes. It is. Anti-Social Personality disorder.”
“Yes sir.”
“You’ve had this since childhood?”
“It made school difficult as you can imagine.”
“But you overcome that.”
“Highest grade point average in every school I've been too.”
The officer nodded. “Now your texts to Morgan, they seem very aggressive toward someone who is your friend. Why is that?”
He sighed, looking over to the side. “I may have had a crush on her since I met her and it may have shown in the aggressiveness of the texts but I never made a move. She was underage and I did not want to end up in prison.”
“So on the night of September 22nd, were you or were you not at the Crawford's house uninvited?”
“I was...”
“Was there a reason?”
“I wanted to talk to Morgan. She had been ignoring me the entire day. That’s never happened. And I guess even with the medication I’m on, I lost it.”
“So you admit to the breaking and entering and property damage of their home?”
Brent looked like he was thinking. I hated him. He was too calm. He continued. “Yeah. I do.”
“And what about the accusations of sexual assault?” His eyes got wide, like it was the worst thing to hear. “The what?” He said.
The officer continued. “The Crawford's seem to think that you at several points in being in contact with Morgan that you sexually assaulted her. Is there anything you have to say about that?”
Brent seemed in shock. “Look. Morgan is a great girl, smart as a whip and gorgeous. She could have any guy she wants but I didn't do anything. I didn't make a move, no matter how big a crush I had on her, she’s just simply too young for me. And yeah I was pretty upset she was ignoring me these last few days but all I did was mess up their house. And I confessed to that.”
The officer got up. “I’ll get your papers.” Then he left the room, leaving a relived look on Brent's face. The Officer came into the room, signaling us out and into the lobby before speaking.
“At most we can charge him for the breaking and entering, property damage, maybe harassment if we’re lucky but there’s no evidence but your word and hers about the sexual assault. He’s saying he didn't do anything along and with her medical records which show no sign of rape.”
I shook my head. “But he did. There were bruises on her at the hospital, the doctor even found a Roofie in her system.” I felt my wife put her arm around me, holding me back gently, and a signal to calm down. The officer spoke. “And for all we know those could have been any of the guys at the drug house but there’s no evidence pointing to him. I’m sorry, there isn't more we can do. I’m going to get his papers in order along with the charges so please stay here while we get things in order.”
I swallowed my growing anger down. He walked away.
Margret told them we would be outside getting some air. I was a bundle of nerves and rage and hopelessness. I was shaking like a leaf. Margret gently escorted me outside the building. Once outside I breathed in gulps of air, as if I were a drowning man coming up to the water surface... Margret backed away, letting me have my space. I felt so stifled and restrained in there.
Outside I can breathe and show everything I’m feeling. Just the thought of him, of Brent not going to prison for everything he’s done to my daughter. Before I knew it I was punching the wall. I heard Margret trying to stop me, that we were at a police station but I barely heard her. I barely heard anything other than the blood rushing in my ears and the officer saying he won’t be facing jail time. That my little girl won’t get the justice she deserves.
I felt my knuckles bleed and scrape the wall. It calmed me and I started to stop. Catching my breath, still gently using the wall as a support. I felt Margret wrap her arms around my waist, bringing me away from the wall. I spoke, nearly a whisper to her. “I’m sorry... I didn't mean to react like that.” She grabbed my hand, looking at the bloodied knuckles. “You don’t have to apologize. I‘m glad it was just punching the wall.” I nodded. She gently led me inside to get my knuckles cleaned.
In total Brent was paying $7,067.76 for the damage done to the house. Once Brent was out of custody he walked over to me and Margret. I had my arm around her protectively. “Mr. Crawford, Mrs. Crawford. I want to apologize for the damage my condition's has done to your family. I know that won’t ever be enough but here’s the money plus a little extra.” Margret and I were taken aback by the polite behavior. He held a check out to us that he must have just written. I gently took it, staring him in the eye, trying to will out the monster that lay beneath his polite surface. “Thank you.” I said to him, quietly.
I looked at the check. It as for $10,000 even. He nodded his goodbye and left the station. I watched as he got in his bright red Porsche and drove off. Now we were left to wonder was he really the monster we made him out to be or was he a young man with legitimate mental problems that he can’t help. I let out a heavy sigh, looking to Margret. It seemed a very anti-climactic end to this awful situation. Margret let out a breath of her own. “Well, let’s go get lunch so we can start working on the house.”