With hindsight, I know I should have interfered again but it wasn’t in my nature. I have my rules to abide by. And the main one is: first and foremost, you go through the proper channels. It’s just unfortunate the proper channels failed me. I should have seen it coming – more and more these days they seem to – but as I said before, I want to see the best in people. It’s my real downfall. For awhile I thought I’d made the right decision. The police rounded up the boys and brought them in for questioning.
Once more I was disappointed.
Lack of evidence was the official line. The poor girl was in no condition to testify and the police efforts to garner DNA samples were stymied by the boys’ parents who couldn’t believe their little angels had anything to do with it.
Unbelievable I know. I suppose I’ll be kind and write it off as the blind love of a parent. Even if in some instances I know for a fact that wasn’t the case. Gotta keep up those appearances – if you know what I mean.
With the official channels exhausted, I set off on another tack. Instead I went to visit the victim’s father. Unlike the previous victim, this one’s parents were not ashamed. They were not embarrassed by what had happened to their little girl. They didn’t seek to hide it
She was their only child. Their pride and joy, the apple of their eye etcetera, etcetera. And I know some would say I was wrong to do it but I just couldn’t help it. I gave him a little nudge in the right direction. Sadly, as it turned out, it might have been too much of a nudge. The morning following my visit, as one of The Filmmakers – admittedly a periphery player; he’d watched but not participated; that not really being an excuse – was striding toward the bus stop, a dusty, red Fairlane careened into him at seventy kilometers an hour. The boy, Jenkins, died instantly. Unfortunately the father of the victim, who’d been behind the wheel, lost control moments after hitting him and plowed into a nearby pole. He’s also gone now, although he lasted a little longer than Jenkins. It was internal bleeding that got him.
He never woke from his coma.
No doubt you’ve already guessed how horrified I was by the results of my interference. Keep repeating the same old justifications, don’t I? Like they’re some sort of acceptable excuse. All I can ask is that before you judge me, you walk a day in my shoes; see how you would’ve played it.
Sure, looking back now I’m not entirely certain what I thought the man could have achieved. But I know I didn’t mean for him to kill the boy. It’s just the way it worked out. It’s often hard to predict what my influence will do to a person and, well, I guess you can only live and learn. At least for awhile, as unfortunate as it all was, it seemed to stop The Filmmakers in their tracks.
I hoped it would last but I knew it was wishful thinking. Sure enough, it didn’t take them long to get back at it. Jenkins was barely in the ground when they struck again.
The next one was a thirteen year old. A skinny, underdeveloped runt of a girl named Sarah. This one was from out of town. They lured her via the internet. Apparently Matthew had been busy during the brief down time. He’d posed as a uni student on a variety of forums: handsome, kind and desperate for love. Saying he was looking for someone to run away with. Sarah, a girl who’d had a lot of troubles – let’s just say that daddy had roving hands – brought it hook, line and sinker. I must have been a little complacent. You know, certain that the death of one of their buddies would have slowed them down. And, I mean, this wasn’t the only thing on my plate. You need to know that too. I mean, it’s not an excuse but… well I suppose it is an excuse but anyway.
Before I knew it she was stepping off the bus outside the general store. Matthew was there to meet her. He was bigger than average for his age. He did look like a uni student. And by now he had his patter down to a t.
He took her back to his house and she was midway through fellating him when the others burst in with the camera. They forced her to continue. This time they were able to get inside and they all took a turn. Between goes they amused themselves, zooming the camera in close on the cum leaking from her pussy, laughing like it was the most hysterical thing they’d ever seen. Then they started on her with the belts and one of the sick fucks even shit in her mouth much to the amusement of his comrades.
Then the inevitable happened. If you haven’t guessed already, it’s what this has all been building up to. That’s right. They only went and upped the ante once again. I suppose they took it to the only logical conclusion it could build to from here.
Well at least Matthew did. When they dragged the unconscious Sarah and dumped her out in the scrub, he told the others he’d meet them back at the house. Said he wanted one last go. But sex wasn’t really the thing on his mind. As soon as they were out of view, he reached down and efficiently strangled the girl then ran to catch up with his buddies. Just like that. No hesitation. No nothing. Seemed it had finally dawned on the boy that Sarah had known him by face; something his fellow movie makers didn’t need to worry about.
Her body was found two days later by a couple of kids riding their trail bikes. The feral cats had been at her. Let’s just say it was not a pretty sight. This time I knew the boys had gone too far and when the police arrived to round them all up again, amid cries of harassment from their parents, I was certain I’d seen the last of them. But oh no, that wasn’t the end of the story. Because onto the scene stepped one Sergeant Timothy Collins and it was all I could do to restrain from striking him down on the spot.
He was a Sydney copper and had been investigating Sarah’s disappearance. Unfortunately, he also turned out to be a man who could hold a grudge. And he held a big one against the investigating officer from the Bendigo force. They’d worked together ten years ago, when they were both on the Melbourne force. I’m not sure exactly what caused it, but boy was there bad blood between them. With their constant bickering and outright attempts to impede the other’s case; somehow the fact a murder had been committed seemed to fade away. Whatever evidence they’d found got contaminated. The boy’s families pooled their money and got a few lawyers. And before I knew it The Filmmakers were set loose again.
I watched them closely during this stage, certain that Matthew killing the girl would cause friction. But no, once again I was disappointed. The general consensus seemed merely to be: why didn’t you let us film it. An oversight they acted fast to rectify. Acted with a bravado that showed their distain for the authorities and their certainty they’d never be caught. Before the dust had even settled on the investigation, they pulled a double header. And this time the razor blades came out.
They didn’t even bother wearing the masks. They knew that they wouldn’t have to worry about being recognised.
With the first girl, they built up to it. With the second, it was plain, sadistic mutilation from the get go. That poor girl’s shrieks will stay with me forever. As will my inaction. The fact I stood there and watched as they repeatedly dragged the blades down her soft, perfect skin. Watched as the skin split apart and her blood bloomed forth. Watched their mirth as they carved the words into her: slut, whore, bitch, lezzo; words the poor thing had no comprehension of. But what six year old would? They carved and carved, continuing even after the girl was dead. Flaying her skin, ripping free chunks of flesh and slitting her belly to plunder her viscera while all the while the camera rolled. Capturing not only their atrocity but also the sheer delight they took in executing it. By the time they were done, what an hour before had been a human child, was now scattered debris. As a final ignominy, they congregated in a circle and pissed on her remains before Michael spent, what they found an amusing moment, pretending to fuck the carcass before they wrapped filming.