A BIRTHDAY PARTY WITH A BANG
By Bob French
The
court room was full of chattering parents and kids from
Hamilton-Wenham-Regional High, in Essex
County. The press were
there in force, some looking for the truth, others looking for more dirt on the
boy who had got his thirteen year old girlfriend pregnant, stollen dinner money
from at least 35 pupils, bullied most of the 12th grade and
virtually destroyed his parent’s house, car, swimming pool and the property of
his neighbors on each side of his parent’s house.
At
the High Bench, three empty red velvet backed chairs, were
placed. These belonged to the three court officials, who were
currently discussing the evidence presented to the court and the degree of
punishment to be awarded, behind closed doors.
At
ten o’clock on the morning of the 12 of September, the front doors to Essex
County Court opened, allowing a mob of angry people who had looked forward to
this day; the down fall of John Wicks and hopefully the incarceration of one of
the most wicked, mischievous, bad-tempered individuals who had ever been
allowed[1] to roam the streets of North Hudson. There were some
mutterings among the crowd that if this thug had been caught back a way’s,
there would have been a lynching from the grand-oak tree outside the court
house in North Hudson rather than a trial.
Suddenly
the door behind the high bench opened and the marshal of the court called for
everyone to stand and be silent, as the officials took their seats.
The
judge, having listened to over six and a half hours of evidence the previous
day, from the Sheriff’s Department, Frank Mason, the County Fire Chief, Mr
Phillips, the head of the school science department of HWR High, and several
pupils in the 12th grade, took a deep breath and looked up into
the angry faces of everyone in his court room. They had been waiting for over
two hours whilst he and the other two court officials deliberated over the
seriousness of this boy’s crimes. He
banged his gavel for silence…
* * * * * * * * *
It
had all started on the last day of the summer term. It was Mr Phillips last
words of encouragement to the science class that he wanted each pupil to
create, a project that would benefit and improve the good and welfare of North Hudson, and support this with a 5,000-word thesis.
He then explained that the science professor from Wentworth University,
Dr Henderson, would judge their project and award a full scholarship to the
winner.
As the school bell sounded, heralding the end of term,
Mr. Phillips called out over the heads of his departing students’, “Remember!
If you want to start you next term as a student of Wentworth University
your project has to be spectacular, literally, blow his socks off.”
“Ja mean like a bomb, Sir?”
Mr. Phillips looked at Wicks, the class joker, a
nuisance at the best of times, and a young man who was quickly following in his
father’s footsteps; an intimidator, a racketeer and a thief and well known to
the sheriff’s department.
“I hope you’re joking Wicks, but metaphorically
speaking, yes.”
As Wicks pushed his way through the rest of the class,
closely followed by his hangers-on, he raised his voice so all could hear, “I’m
going to build a bomb and blow this class room to kingdom come.”
* * * * * * * * *
Ben
Hastings was the kind of boy most people overlooked, except for the bullies.
Ben was a quiet, unassuming seventeen-year-old with a fascination for science,
he spent most of his days tinkering with old gadgets, pulling apart machines
and dreaming of a future where his inventions would change the
world. But at HWR, he was the favorite target of John Wicks, a
loud-mouthed attention seeking bully who took great pleasure in humiliating Ben
in front of his friends, including his girlfriend, Janet McClusky.
* * * * * * * * *
Having avoided the crowds of cheering and
hysterical students, Ben made his way to the far end of the sports field where
he had arranged to meet Janet.
After a quick kiss, they held hands and wandered down
the winding path that ran alongside the river.
Janet spoke first. “Have you given any
thought for your project?”
“Not really. Have you?”
Janet was silent for a while, then turned to face Ben.
“You may think I’m mad, but how about we create a bomb?”
Ben looked into her deep blue eyes and squinted. “You
sure you know what you’re talking about?”
“Look, Wicks has given us a perfect
excuse. I very much doubt that he has the brains to make a
bomb. So, let’s help him.”
“Sorry, but you’ve lost me.”
“Everyone heard him say that he was going to build a
bomb, then blow up the classroom. Well, what if we build a
bomb and discreetly planted it in his garden shed. We can detonate
it after his birthday party is over.
“What birthday party? I didn’t know there was a
birthday party.”
“That is because you didn’t get an invite. He is
holding his 18th birthday party on the weekend before school
starts. Perfect timing to set off a bomb that looks like it was made
by Wicks so he could carry out his brag. ”The first person the
sheriff’s department would want to speak to would be Wicks, after his threat.”
“Brilliant idea. In one fell-swoop, we
could get rid of him once and for all.”
By the time they had reached the end of town they had
discussed the outline of their plan and how they were going to create a
fool-proof alibi. Ben, now full of enthusiasm wanted to recruit a
few of his mates to help with plan but Janet held up her hand.
“I think if this plan is to work, we both must swear
an oath of silence. We must not discuss the plan or write anything
down, show an interest publicly or we shall be implicated. I will sit down this
evening and draw up the plan. Then we can discuss it between us. So,
if you have any ideas or questions, keep them in your head until tomorrow
afternoon.”
* * * * * * * * *
Janet, with the help of Ben and his garden shed, had
created a small bomb using a mixture of a thunder flash, CS gas canister, a
purple paint bomb and with Ben’s clever idea, a mobile phone
detonator. They then both went through each of their sheds and bed
rooms to ensure that anything they used in making the bomb was removed and
their sheds were thoroughly cleaned. All they had to do was
smuggle it into the shed in Wick’s back garden prior to his party on the week
end before the new term started.
Janet had invited their friends from the science class
to an end of summer term barbecue, which would end around ten in the evening.
As the light started to fade, Janet asked Ben to get some more Coca-Cola. Ben
understood the coded language and slipped discretely through the back gate and
into Wick’s back garden. Placed the bomb against some empty petrol cans, then
spread around the shed and garden some of the items that had been used to make
the bomb, knowing that the fire brigade would find them in the debris.
The bomb, when it had exploded on Saturday before
school started, completely destroyed the shed, blew out most of the windows of
Wick’s house and those of his neighbors, sprayed everyone who was in the back
garden and the pool with purple die and set on fire his father’s BMW.
Within hours, the sheriff’s department, after some
simple questioning of the guests at the party, followed the evidence to the son
of the Wick’s family. Then the Fire Department studied some of the
components of the bomb with what they found scattered around the garden, then
briefed the Sheriff’s Department with what they had found.
* * * * * * * * *
The court room fell silent. The judge looked up from
his notes, and cleared his throat.
“After much deliberation, I find you, John Wicks
guilty of all the charges laid against you. The matter of you
impregnating a minor will be dealt with by under a separate court hearing,
where they will place a financial provision order upon you for the support of
the child when it is born.”
Wicks smiled at the people sitting in the public
galleries, knowing that the judge could not send him to prison because of his
age. The judge, after a pause, looked up again at Wicks.
“As you are no longer a minor, I hereby sentence you
to 8 years with no parole in the Massachusetts
correction facility.”
Wicks stood and stared at the judge, then screamed,
“You can’t I’m a minor. Stop, you’ve got this wrong. I’m a minor.”
”Take him down, then clear the court.”
In the cool of the evening, Janet and Ben sat on the
porch drinking ice cold Coca-Cola. After a period of silence, she draped her
arm around Ben’s shoulder and gently kissed the side of his face.
“Although we could never claim the prize of creating a
project that would benefit and improve the good and welfare of our town, it was
fun.”
Copyright
Bob French
