Chapter 1
The rotund judge sat high on his bench as the bailiff handed him a piece of paper. Judge Elkins shifted his black robe that was caught on his sky-blue undershirt. He reached into his back pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the beads of sweat starting to build on his forehead.
It was September 4, 1969. The courtroom was hot that summer and barely moving fans did little to help push the air. There wasn’t a whisper to be heard as everyone in the courtroom held their collective breath. A reporter standing in the back had his pad of paper in one hand and his pencil in the other. Like a loaded gun, his pencil would fire off the words “Guilty” or “Not Guilty,” and he could run out the back door and shout it to the eagerly awaiting crowd on his way to the New Hope Post Headquarters. Reporters from Washington D.C. were in town to report the gory details that had been spoken out during the testimonies of various witnesses and police officers.
The walls of the courthouse had probably been a pearly white at one point, but over the years the color had soured to a dull, yellowish brown. The walls hadn’t even been subjected to the horrors and crimes that big city courthouses have, but over the last few months there were plenty of things to overhear.
The mid-sized town of New Hope had been brought to its knees like never before. The likes of which the God-fearing farmers and their wives had never heard, much less seen. It had even garnered attention from the west coast all the way to the nation’s capital. The words “pure evil” were being used in the same sentence as “serial killer” and “deranged psychopath.” None of that bothered Patrick as he sat there without any emotion, deadpanning the world that right stared back at him.
“Will the defendant please rise?” Judge Elkins said aloud.
Patrick sat still and motionless with a cold and calculating look on his face.
“Mr. Fritz! Will the defendant please rise!?” the judge said, with vigor this time.
The distraught public defender shook Mr. Fritz by the arm and whispered into his ear, finally getting him to his feet. Patrick just shook his head and denied what was happening even though it was right in front of him. There was just one small thing—Patrick didn’t exist. He was the deep-seated illusion of one, Arthur Fritz.
The judge opened the folded paper from the bailiff and tilted his head to see over his glasses, which he only used for his nearsightedness. His eyes scanned the document and didn’t react to what he read, not that it was easy. The whole room studied his face, but like a good judge, he remained stoic.
“In the matter of the State versus Mr. Arthur Fritz. On the five counts of Murder One, the jury hereby finds you…”
The group of men and women sitting in the rows behind Arthur only wanted to hear one thing— guilty. They wanted him in the electric chair. Anything else would be a complete waste of time for themselves and the loved ones they had lost.
“Not guilty by reason of insanity. You are…”
“You sick son of a bitch! I hope you rot in hell!” a woman interrupted from the back. More conversations and chattering started as a result of the outburst, and before long the small but packed courtroom was in chaos.
“Order! Order in the courtroom!” Judge Elkins yelled as he banged on his gavel as hard as he could. Even though it was carved from the wood of a mighty oak, it was no match for the anger and forcefulness of Judge Elkins as it splintered in two and the head rolled across the hardwood floor. The wrathful mob of civilians froze in their spots. Judge Elkins, red-faced and scowling, pushed his white hair back into place.
“I will hold all of you in contempt! There will be order in my courtroom!”
The people, mad faced, reluctantly took their seats as to not get into further trouble. That was the difference between them and the man named Arthur Fritz. All the people in the room were deathly of afraid of having a contempt of court charge brought against them, even if they truly believed in something. And in this case, they did. In their minds, Arthur was more than mentally capable and knew exactly what he was doing. All the good people of the world wanted to get rid of all the bad people in the world. So they surrounded them and cornered them, wishing ill and hurt upon them. And when they couldn’t kill them, they would exile them to distant corners of the world and lock them away in tiny rooms with cold walls, far away from the normal people of society. Far because they didn’t want to be reminded that those dark and twisted souls were sewn from the same fabric as themselves. That only a minute piece of biology that they didn’t understand could be in the wrong place, and that was all that separated the savages from the sane. Such was the case against Arthur Fritz. That was the difference. While the room returned to silence, Arthur still stood and faced his judge and jury.
“Mr. Fritz, you will hereby be turned over to the state for treatment, evaluation, and care at New Hope Psychiatric Hospital. This case is adjourned. That is all.” He would have pounded on his gavel if he had one left.
Judge Elkins wore a look of disgust as he disappeared to his quarters for a drink. To hear what that man had done and to hear that he would be in a ward and not be executed was too much to handle. He was a judge, but he was still human. He wasn’t scared of the things he had heard, no. What scared him was that someone was capable of doing them. Right here, in the peaceful and uneventful town of New Hope. Where things like this were never discussed, much less happened.
Patrick had the same look on his face as the judge, but not for the same reasons. Patrick was upset they were going away. The fun was over for now. Or was it? Arthur slowly shifted his feet across the wooden floor as the chains allowed for only so much movement. His black and white jumpsuit had seen cleaner days. He wasn’t even certain that it was washed before he received it. It smelled of dust and mothballs. There was a red stain from breakfast that morning where Arthur had spilled a drop of ketchup that he was putting on his scrambled eggs. Arthur didn’t care where he was going, he just knew that Patrick would make sure he was safe and well taken care of.
The guards hauled him to the back door of the courtroom when people began leaving. At least Arthur didn’t have to be alone. Even though Patrick wasn’t in shackles and handcuffs, he followed him out and back into the holding cell until the transport from the jail to New Hope Psychiatric Hospital arrived. Appearing in and out of view, he never left Arthur’s side. If he was anything, he was loyal. They both were. They were all they had.
Outside, the scene was on the verge of hysteria. How could the jury have come up with its decision? The mob couldn’t comprehend the decision. They only saw red.
It was September 4, 1969. The courtroom was hot that summer and barely moving fans did little to help push the air. There wasn’t a whisper to be heard as everyone in the courtroom held their collective breath. A reporter standing in the back had his pad of paper in one hand and his pencil in the other. Like a loaded gun, his pencil would fire off the words “Guilty” or “Not Guilty,” and he could run out the back door and shout it to the eagerly awaiting crowd on his way to the New Hope Post Headquarters. Reporters from Washington D.C. were in town to report the gory details that had been spoken out during the testimonies of various witnesses and police officers.
The walls of the courthouse had probably been a pearly white at one point, but over the years the color had soured to a dull, yellowish brown. The walls hadn’t even been subjected to the horrors and crimes that big city courthouses have, but over the last few months there were plenty of things to overhear.
The mid-sized town of New Hope had been brought to its knees like never before. The likes of which the God-fearing farmers and their wives had never heard, much less seen. It had even garnered attention from the west coast all the way to the nation’s capital. The words “pure evil” were being used in the same sentence as “serial killer” and “deranged psychopath.” None of that bothered Patrick as he sat there without any emotion, deadpanning the world that right stared back at him.
“Will the defendant please rise?” Judge Elkins said aloud.
Patrick sat still and motionless with a cold and calculating look on his face.
“Mr. Fritz! Will the defendant please rise!?” the judge said, with vigor this time.
The distraught public defender shook Mr. Fritz by the arm and whispered into his ear, finally getting him to his feet. Patrick just shook his head and denied what was happening even though it was right in front of him. There was just one small thing—Patrick didn’t exist. He was the deep-seated illusion of one, Arthur Fritz.
The judge opened the folded paper from the bailiff and tilted his head to see over his glasses, which he only used for his nearsightedness. His eyes scanned the document and didn’t react to what he read, not that it was easy. The whole room studied his face, but like a good judge, he remained stoic.
“In the matter of the State versus Mr. Arthur Fritz. On the five counts of Murder One, the jury hereby finds you…”
The group of men and women sitting in the rows behind Arthur only wanted to hear one thing— guilty. They wanted him in the electric chair. Anything else would be a complete waste of time for themselves and the loved ones they had lost.
“Not guilty by reason of insanity. You are…”
“You sick son of a bitch! I hope you rot in hell!” a woman interrupted from the back. More conversations and chattering started as a result of the outburst, and before long the small but packed courtroom was in chaos.
“Order! Order in the courtroom!” Judge Elkins yelled as he banged on his gavel as hard as he could. Even though it was carved from the wood of a mighty oak, it was no match for the anger and forcefulness of Judge Elkins as it splintered in two and the head rolled across the hardwood floor. The wrathful mob of civilians froze in their spots. Judge Elkins, red-faced and scowling, pushed his white hair back into place.
“I will hold all of you in contempt! There will be order in my courtroom!”
The people, mad faced, reluctantly took their seats as to not get into further trouble. That was the difference between them and the man named Arthur Fritz. All the people in the room were deathly of afraid of having a contempt of court charge brought against them, even if they truly believed in something. And in this case, they did. In their minds, Arthur was more than mentally capable and knew exactly what he was doing. All the good people of the world wanted to get rid of all the bad people in the world. So they surrounded them and cornered them, wishing ill and hurt upon them. And when they couldn’t kill them, they would exile them to distant corners of the world and lock them away in tiny rooms with cold walls, far away from the normal people of society. Far because they didn’t want to be reminded that those dark and twisted souls were sewn from the same fabric as themselves. That only a minute piece of biology that they didn’t understand could be in the wrong place, and that was all that separated the savages from the sane. Such was the case against Arthur Fritz. That was the difference. While the room returned to silence, Arthur still stood and faced his judge and jury.
“Mr. Fritz, you will hereby be turned over to the state for treatment, evaluation, and care at New Hope Psychiatric Hospital. This case is adjourned. That is all.” He would have pounded on his gavel if he had one left.
Judge Elkins wore a look of disgust as he disappeared to his quarters for a drink. To hear what that man had done and to hear that he would be in a ward and not be executed was too much to handle. He was a judge, but he was still human. He wasn’t scared of the things he had heard, no. What scared him was that someone was capable of doing them. Right here, in the peaceful and uneventful town of New Hope. Where things like this were never discussed, much less happened.
Patrick had the same look on his face as the judge, but not for the same reasons. Patrick was upset they were going away. The fun was over for now. Or was it? Arthur slowly shifted his feet across the wooden floor as the chains allowed for only so much movement. His black and white jumpsuit had seen cleaner days. He wasn’t even certain that it was washed before he received it. It smelled of dust and mothballs. There was a red stain from breakfast that morning where Arthur had spilled a drop of ketchup that he was putting on his scrambled eggs. Arthur didn’t care where he was going, he just knew that Patrick would make sure he was safe and well taken care of.
The guards hauled him to the back door of the courtroom when people began leaving. At least Arthur didn’t have to be alone. Even though Patrick wasn’t in shackles and handcuffs, he followed him out and back into the holding cell until the transport from the jail to New Hope Psychiatric Hospital arrived. Appearing in and out of view, he never left Arthur’s side. If he was anything, he was loyal. They both were. They were all they had.
Outside, the scene was on the verge of hysteria. How could the jury have come up with its decision? The mob couldn’t comprehend the decision. They only saw red.
