Breaking Brooklyn (26 page)

“
The police interviewed your
sister-in-law. She is ready to testify that your were threatening
Brooke. She told the police that Brooke said you lost your temper,
that she was afraid of you. Is this true, Jack?”

"She cheated on me and now she has become a
slut. I don't want my boys to see the things I saw growing up. So,
of course I lost my temper but Brooke wasn’t afraid of me. She got
off on pushing my buttons and messing with my mind."

“
Can you tell me about the
problems Brooke and you had when you were married?”

“
Brooke had become distant to me.
I don’t know why. At first, I thought she was having an affair. I
confronted her about it and she denied it." I stopped and swallowed
hard then continued.

"I begged her to tell me what had changed
between us. She had a litany of excuses, like how I never held her
hand anymore, how she wanted to work, but I wanted her to care for
our children. When I told her I thought she cared more about
teaching other people’s kids than our own, she shouted that I was
not her jailer. No, I wasn’t, I just wanted our kids to have a
mother at home, something I always dreamed of and never had." I
explained.

"Her complaints went from silly to crazy.
Sometimes she completely lost it. She would tell me that my
horrible childhood had followed me into our married life. She said
I had become cold and controlling. I know she didn’t mean
it.”

"Was there more, Jack?” Harleen
prodded.

“
Okay. All right, she cheated on
me. Is that what you want to hear? She said she was depression and
I was the reason. When I pressed her…” I stopped, looked down, took
a deep breath, and then blew it out. “Brooke told me she was no
longer ‘in love’ with me; what I heard was she no longer loved me.
She tried to tell me how you can love someone, but not be ‘in love’
with them. I told her that was bullshit. You either love someone or
you don’t.

All the loneliness I felt as a child came
rushing back to me like a disease. I couldn't eat or sleep for
weeks. I thought about my mother and how she too struggled to love
me. Maybe I am unlovable."

My voice cracked with emotion. I began
sobbing, so much I couldn’t draw in enough breath to get my words
out. It took me a moment to get myself together.

“
Brooke asked what I wanted from
her. I told her I wanted her to notice when I wasn’t around. To
think of me when she woke in the morning and remember me as she
fell asleep at night. I wanted to be the air that filled her lungs,
the color that brightened her world. Most of all I wanted to feel
her love inside my bruised and beaten heart."

The warmth I once saw in Harleen's eyes turned
cold. She glared at me.

"Jack, let’s cut the bullshit! We both know
you killed your family!"

"What?!" I yelled, completely shocked by
Harleen's tone.

"There's no other explanation. What I want to
know is how you tied yourself to the chair?"

"I DIDN'T KILL MY FAMILY! "

Harleen moved her hand and gripped the bottom
of her chin. Her cinnamon eyes wanted the truth.

"Brooke divorced you and took your kids from
you. Everything you worked so hard to build collapsed in on itself.
So, you snapped. You killed your wife then your
children."

I was so angry I lost it. Getting up in
Harleen's face, I yelled, "I DIDN'T KILL MY FAMILY!"

I knew I was on dangerous ground. Quickly
calming myself down, I asked, "Am I being charged with murdering my
family?"

Harleen glared at me. See could see the truth
in my eyes. She then leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't a "I feel
your pain" kiss either. It was an "I have wanted to kiss you ever
since the day we met" kiss.

"Jack, they are going to release you from the
hospital. I don't know what will happen next but you need to
continue to get help. There is a lot of pain pent up in you that
needs to work its way out in therapy. Otherwise it will release
itself in another way, a not so good way. I am very concerned about
you."

"What doesn't kill us makes us stronger,
right?" I whispered.

That is my last memory of Harleen.

EPILOGUE

Surrounded by flames I sit with the barrel of
the pistol in my mouth, its metallic shaft resting on my tongue. I
want to feel what it’s like to kill myself.

Removing the cold steel from my lips, I pull
out three photos and a piece of paper from my back pocket. The
first photo is of Brooke and I sitting on the couch embracing each
other. We were in college. Her head was in my lap and you could see
the love we had for each other in our eyes. The picture becomes
blurry as my eyes turn into a swimming pool of lost
memories.

The next picture is of Sawyer at his baptism.
With his bottom and legs exposed, Father Ted is baptizing him. And
lastly there is a family picture with Mickey Mouse at Disney Land.
It was the last time we were together as a family before Brooke
filed for divorce. The expressions on my boys’ faces was priceless.
Like a dream. They were oblivious to reality, a state of mind I
could only wish for.

I then unfolded my final divorce decree, my
eyes focusing on the signature date. May 31, 2015, our wedding
anniversary. Exactly thirteen years. It was now sixty days after
Brooke filed for divorce. In Indiana there is a statutory waiting
period for of sixty days before a divorce can be finalized. They do
this to slow down the process, to make you really think about your
decision. All it really does is prolong the pain.

This provoked me to relive my last memory of
Brooke. A memory I wanted to make disappear.

I am sitting in a chair with my arms tied
behind my back and my legs strapped to its front legs. Brooke is
standing in front of me. Her knees are shaking and she is pointing
a handgun at my head. She gulps for air as she cries
historically.

"Y-Y-You did this to me!" She starts then
stops, interrupted by her need to breath. Mascara is oozing down
her cheeks. Her eyes are puffy with dark red circles around them.
"I was never good enough for you! You killed any self-esteem I ever
had."

Taking the handle of the pistol she lightly
taps the side of her head as she bites down on her bottom
lip.

"I know about Tyler!" I shout as the image of
him with and Brooke burn a hole in me.

"So what! You pushed me away, what do you
expect!"

I want to hurt him.

"I don't love you Jack! I never loved
you!"

My voice is paralyzed. My already broken heart
shatters. I gaze at Brooke, bagging her to shoot me.

"I want out of this fucking hell! I want my
kids out of this fucking hell!!!" she screams.

"What did you do Brooke? Please don't tell me
you ..." I whisper.

"I did what was best for them! They belong
with me!"

My body collapses in on itself. I'm sitting
but I can feel my legs losing their strength. I become light
headed.

Glaring at Brooke I yell, "NO!!!"

BANG!

Brooke drops to the floor in front of me. I
blackout.

The sound of Riley cowering by my side brings
me back to reality. She is scared.

I know I should hate Brooke for what she did
but I still love her. I cannot allow the world to know the truth. I
must protect her memory.

I can hear the sound of fire trucks as I point
my pistol at Riley. My eye sockets become a sea of emotion. My
heart sinks in my chest as I pull the trigger.

My ears are ringing from the gun shot. I get
up and walk over to the mirror that is now shattered into little
pieces like a spider web. I look at my distorted reflection that is
blurred by smeared blood. For a split second I see the little boy I
once was, a good boy. I am sad to see him go.

My veins become cold as my heart begins to
rot. I can hear a tapping sound in my head. I beg it to stop but it
won't. I am overcome with numbness. I no longer want to know what
it feels like to kill myself. Instead I want to know what it feels
like to kill someone else.

Grabbing a piece of the broken mirror I put it
to my cheek. I press hard until I see blood. Then, I slice down to
the corner of my mouth exposing my flesh. I then stuck the piece of
mirror into the other side of my mouth and do the same.

Throwing the blood stained piece of mirror on
the floor, I wipe my mouth smearing blood across my face. I look at
the open window at the back of the room that is now my means of
escape.

CONFIDENTIAL PHYCHOLOGICAL
REPORT

ASSESSMENT

Jack Napier 06/16/2020

I identify Jack Napier as a
psychopath. My file review assessment using the Psychopathy
Checklist-Revised (PCL-R) places him in the 91st percentile of
offenders. The score on one factor (selfish, callous, and
remorseless use of others) put him in the top 1 percent of inmates.
Clearly, this score more than exceeds the cutoff for psychopathy.
The instrumental nature of the violent acts Jack committed is
clear. I believe that Jack waited for and, likely, fantasized about
the killings. In his mind, these callous acts avenged all of the
perceived wrongs done to him as a child.

I know of Jack's deviance, level
of psychopathy, and fantasy about killing because of observations I
made while evaluating him and reading through his
journals.

I feel Jack also suffers from
Antisocial Personality Disorder, ASPD. Over the course of my
assessment Jack has displayed a pattern of maladaptive, impulsive,
and aggressive behavior. When pushed to conform he often becomes
violent.

Jack escapes into his fantasies
when under duress, often losing his grip on reality. For example,
during our interviews he would refer to me as Harleen and have
conversations with me that made absolutely no sense. His journals
were a random collection of what I suspect were random memories and
fantasies. There were even fictional Facebook conversation between
Jack's deceased wife and someone she was having an affair with.
Jack is clearly delusional.

Several years ago Jack's wife and
children were murdered right in front of Jack who was tied to a
chair. The killers were never found. Because of this and the fact
that Jack was sexually abused as a child, I believe Jack sufferers
from Post Traumatic Distress Disorder. This may have triggered his
psychopathy.

Because Jack was molested as a
child (victims often repeat the acts of their violator) we searched
his home expecting to find a cache of sexually explicit photos of
children, initially we did not. Then I walked over to the closet,
reached up above the opening, and tapped on the paneling inside the
closet. After a piece came loose, I reached in and extracted a
package tightly wrapped in plastic. This seemed to be a treasure
for Jack, one that he would not let even a tornado or flood damage.
After unwrapping it, I had approximately a 2-foot pile of shrink
wrap at my feet, and I held a stack of sexually explicit photos of
naked men. At first I was confused, then it occurred to me these
could be pictures of Jacks victims. After further research everyone
one them were known and unknown pedophiles. All of whom Jack killed
after his family was murdered.

The combination of psychopathy,
antisocial characteristics, schizotypal traits, paranoia, and a
strong desire for revenge identifies Jack as a very volatile and
dangerous individual. Adding his callous and aggressive
personality, fascination with killing, and hatred for pedophiles
has made him a ticking bomb. I now recognize the approach onto his
property as the detonator. His defense of his home was a raison
d’être for him, and he likely both fantasized and planned for the
day.

Unfortunately, at the time, the
RCMP members did not have the knowledge of his potential for
violence and level of dangerousness. This tragic event highlights
the value of intelligence led policing in determining the threat to
members of the criminal justice community and their
families.

It is my conclusion that Jack
remain institutionalized until he is fit to stand trial.