Rag Doll Ch. 06 Pt. 02

Special Agent Walker wasn't finished.

"Ordinarily, a murder committed outside United States jurisdiction is considered a matter for the local authorities to deal with, but in this case a Federal judge has ruled that, since your mother was killed by Brian Davis in furtherance of his crimes against America, it would have formed part of the original indictment against him if the evidence had been made available at the time of his original trial. The British authorities have raised no objections, other than the usual, to him being tried under a Federal Indictment for First Degree murder in the commission of crimes against America. Without your help, we would never have been able to bring this about, thank you all for your invaluable help and assistance. The trial will be held as speedily as possible, but it won't be soon; the Federal courts have a long backlog of cases, but I will do my best to keep you updated as and when anything new comes up."

As it happens, that bastard never got to trial; a week later, on the advice of his attorney, he pleaded-out, admitting his guilt for a technical reduction of his sentence. We were in court to watch the bastard allocute to his crimes, listening as he described in sickening detail what he'd done to our mother, and why. Part of his plea-bargain was that he give explicit details, which he did, with no hint of emotion, no signs of remorse, nothing; he could have been reading a laundry-list for all the expression in his voice or on his face. The bastard never once looked at us as we sat there, all his children in a row, all of us there to watch his final downfall.

At the end of his speech, the Federal Prosecutor confirmed to the judge the terms of the deal that had been struck; that Brian Davis would receive a sentence of 30 years to life for the murder of Barbara Morrison Davis. The judge noted the plea for the court record, and then informed that ...creature that he would serve the term consecutively to his current sentence, ensuring that there was no possibility of him ever leaving prison alive. It was a fit sentence, and a victory for us; at last, justice had been done, that bastard had admitted in open court what he had done, and had been convicted and sentenced for his acts. Now our mother could rest, her "suicide" wiped from the record, and her last resting place could be blessed, something she would have wanted.

We filed out of court in silence; there was no rejoicing, this wasn't something to celebrate, but it was a day to remember; we had seen justice done, and I was content. We had seen and heard that bastard admit his guilt, and really speaking, I had no issues with the sentence; Brian Davis was in his late fifties, he still had almost 40 years to serve on his original sentence, with no possibility of parole, now he had an additional 30 years, sealing his fate, and he'd be doing it from a hole in the ground far from any contact with the rest of the human race. Time was going to drag heavily for him, perhaps he'd take that time and reflect on what he'd done, although that was probably not very likely; people like my father don't feel guilt; if they did, they wouldn't do the things they did. He'd taken a life, and caused the end of another, he'd ruined lives and almost destroyed his children, he'd hurt and damaged us, and caused unspeakable suffering. Now he'd waste his life away in a hole, a forgotten, pathetic relic of a time best forgotten too.

Nicky had been right, and so had Ashley; the mills of God had ground him fine, and found nothing worth saving; he had bought and paid for the fate that awaited him, and there was no-one left who could or would mourn him. I, however, was paradoxically glad that New York had no death penalty; I didn't want his death on my conscience, or that of any other member of my family; that his crimes had condemned him to a tiny cubicle 80 feet underground for the rest of his life was entirely his own doing, and it was justice enough for me.

A month later, a Requiem Mass was said for my mother at our local catholic church in Carlisle, where the stigma of suicide was removed from her and she was rejoined with the Catholic Church.

Afterwards, a short, but profoundly moving service was held at her grave-side, where our mother's grave was formally consecrated in accordance with her beliefs, and the proper prayers of her faith said over her for the repose of her soul. All of the family was there to say goodbye to our mother, and pray for her to be at peace at last.

Poor Nicky is still at war with himself over her death, but I think the service gave him some of that peace and closure he so desperately needed, and he has Ashley to help him, and mum, and all of us who played their part in giving our mother peace at last.

*

Two years have passed since the events described above, two full, satisfying years. Shari and I have a little girl now, Ayesha, named after her mother, and the spitting image of Shari. Rick and Yasmin have a little boy named David. We also have another one on the way, as does Yaz, only both girls are having boys this time.

Nicky and Ashley spend several weeks a year with us, as do Judy and Leon; Shari and I feel very strongly that maintaining close family links is the most important thing we can do for our extended family, so every summer, Nicky, Ashley, little Barbara, and their youngest, Judy, the baby of the family, try and spend at least a couple of weeks in England, and we return the favour over Thanksgiving or the Christmas holidays. The house is always alive with conversation, and the sound of children playing, something I think Barbara would have appreciated.

I know she's still with us, though, and it's not just supposition; I know, believe me.

This summer just gone, everyone was here, Nicky and Ashley and their kids, Judy, mum, step-dad David, and of course, my little sister by adoption, Rachel. I was sitting in the family room catching my breath after chasing kids all over the house, with Rachel sitting on me watching the Disney channel on the big plasma in there. Everyone else was in the kitchen, talking and drinking coffee while they got the things ready for the barbecue we'd planned. I was just dropping-off, hoping to catch a little snooze before the barbecue, when Rachel clambered off me and disappeared. In my half-asleep state I heard her laughing and talking in the dining-room. I paid it no mind, settling down to try and recapture my snooze, when she climbed back onto my lap and shook me awake the way she usually did; by pulling my bottom lip and making my head nod.

"What? Don't do that Rachel, please!" I mumbled, so she thumped me on the chest.

"Wake up, Bobby, wake up!" she pestered, so I cocked an eye at her.

"What's the matter, Rachel, I'm tired?" I grumbled, unable to even think about sleeping while she bounced on my stomach.

"I got something for you Bobby, look!"

I opened my eyes, and stared in shock. She was wearing Barbara's charm bracelet, dangling it from her wrist.

"Where...where did you get that, Baby?" I asked her, and she grinned her gap-toothed smile at me.

"The nice lady gave it to me!" she giggled, taking it off and dangling it in front of me, admiring all the tiny charms and medallions depending from it.

"What 'nice lady'?" I whispered, and she squirmed around and pointed at Barbara's picture on the mantelpiece.

"Her! She told me to give it to you, and I had to tell you something, too; she said that she loved you, and Ricky, and Little Saint Nick, and all the babies, and me too! She was nice! Is she your mommy? She looks like you! Who's Little Saint Nick?"

I asked Rachel to go and get Nicky and Rick, and waited until she came back in, towing both of them behind her. Nicky grinned at me as he picked up his littlest sister.

"What's up, Bobby? Rachel said you want to talk to us."

I held up the bracelet, Nicky's eyes widening as he saw it, as did Rick's.

"Rachel, tell Nicky what you just told me." I urged, so she did, pointing at the photograph when I asked her who the lady was. Nicky's eyes filled as he held the bracelet, then he smiled as he picked up and kissed the little girl.

"You're so lucky, baby-girl, so, so lucky. That lady is the loveliest lady in the world, and she came a long, long way to see you, so you must always keep that safe, OK?"

Rachel nodded, reaching out to rub at Nicky's eyes.

"Don't cry Nicky, you're a big boy!" as she hugged him, then kissed him on the tip of his nose.

"The nice lady said I had to give you that!" she giggled, and Nicky grinned back, hoisting her higher as we made our way into the cool kitchen, where our family waited for us.