Richard spoke over photos of the hatch at the end of the tunnel. “The escape tunnel led here, only eighty feet from the cabin.” Footage of the trail flashed on the screen. “They escaped down this hiking path, but the police were hot on their trail.”
Chief Strickland appeared. “We chased ’em down the trail, but we never saw ’em.”
“But Sarge did,” Richard said.
The chief nodded, his mouth turned down. “We let our canine loose, and Sarge caught up to him.”
Richard narrated over a dramatization of a German shepherd running through the woods. “What happened next sounds like it was taken from a Hollywood script.”
They cut to Chief Strickland. “When we got to the scene, Sarge was dying, stabbed in the back of the neck, and there was what looked like white cotton everywhere.” A dramatization played of a dog biting a puffy jacket and tearing the stuffing out of it. “The cotton was actually goose down. We think James Fisher tied his jacket around his leg and let Sarge bite down on it. When that happened …” The chief shook his head. “Fisher plunged a blade into the back of the dog’s neck. I heard Sarge yelp. It was the one of the worst sounds I’ve ever heard.”
“Did this kill Sarge instantly?”
“No, sir.” The camera zoomed in on the chief’s face. His eyes were wet. “We had to put him out of his misery.”
Richard spoke over footage of the trail fork and the small gravel parking lot. “James Fisher and possibly Brittany Summers came to this lot at the end of the trail.”
The camera cut to Chief Strickland. “They must’ve had a car ready to go, because, when we got there, they were gone. Kurt said James Fisher was in a white compact car when he saw him, so we put out an all-points bulletin for a white compact with a man and a woman in the car. State police pulled over hundreds of cars, but we never found ’em.”
Richard narrated over images of the chief’s stone house. “They escaped, but it wasn’t over. This quaint stone house was owned by Chief Strickland as a hunting camp and weekend getaway.”
They cut to the chief. “That same day I found out my house had been broken into. I had a good security system, burglar bars, and a very secure safe hidden in the attic and bolted to the floor.”
They showed footage of the stone house.
“Do you think it was James Fisher who broke in?” Richard asked.
The chief appeared on-screen. “Definitely, and I’ll tell you another thing. There is no way an inexperienced thief could’ve done what he did. It was a professional job.”
“What was taken from the home?”
“A few thousand dollars in cash, and my wife’s jewelry. Her jewelry had been handed down in her family for centuries. It was worth a fortune, but it was worth much more to us in sentiment.”
Richard spoke over pictures of Dale Strickland and his black SUV. “On the same day of the dramatic escape, Officer Dale Strickland went missing along with his GMC Yukon. When we return, the police begin to uncover the crucial pieces that would lead them to their worst nightmare.”
Upon returning, they showed a dramatization of a police officer picking up a phone in a Ziploc bag in the woods.
Richard narrated over the video. “Police tracked down Harold’s cell phone in Lycoming County, but they didn’t find Harold. The phone was planted there to give legitimacy to the texts previously sent from Harold’s phone. Who was doing this and why?”
Chief Strickland appeared. “It had to be James Fisher, and I think Brittany Summers helped him. I think he was buyin’ more time for himself. He didn’t want us to think Harold was missin’.”
Richard’s voiceover corresponded with photos of a black SUV on blocks, its interior shredded. “Two weeks later police found Dale’s GMC Yukon, stripped and abandoned in Pottsville, about half an hour from James Fisher’s cabin. There was no sign of Dale. A few days after that, the police were alerted by airport authorities in Harrisburg that they had found Harold’s red Ford Ranger in their long-term parking lot.” They cut to security footage of James walking out of the lot, his head covered with a knit cap. “Police believe this grainy image to be James Fisher. He’s wearing a chemical suit under his jacket, which would be perfect for keeping his DNA out of a crime scene.”
Chief Strickland appeared. “He was careful but not careful enough. We found hair follicles that matched James Fisher’s DNA in both vehicles.”
“Bullshit,” James said to his laptop.
The chief continued, “When we found the trucks and the DNA, we knew it brought us closer to findin’ Harold and Dale, but I also knew it meant that we were closer to findin’ out that they were gone.” The chief shook his head, his eyes puffy. “As a father and a brother, I prayed and tried to have hope, but as a police officer I knew what the odds were.”
Richard narrated over pictures of Brittany. “At this time Brittany Summers resurfaced in Virginia, with an alibi for her whereabouts on the day of the escape.”
They cut to Richard Schlesinger holding a sheet of paper in front of him.
“Ms. Summers refused to be interviewed,” Richard said to the chief. “She did make a statement through her attorney. She said, ‘I have no knowledge of the events that transpired on February 24, 2016. James Fisher is a kind and decent man. He is not a criminal.’”
The chief appeared, chuckling. “That alibi she’s got is paper-thin. I know she was involved. That Yolanda woman is an old friend of James Fisher.”
Richard spoke over a school photo of Yolanda. “School nurse, Yolanda Mendez worked with James in Virginia at Woodbridge Middle School. Mrs. Mendez vouched for Brittany’s whereabouts on February 24.”
The camera cut to Dr. Dicks. “Mrs. Mendez is an excellent nurse. I never understood why she was friends with someone like James Fisher.”
Richard narrated over images of James and Brittany. “A few weeks later, with James Fisher in the wind and Brittany with a solid alibi, James strikes again. When we return, the story takes a dramatic and surprising twist.”
The show returned with Richard narrating over a dramatization of stacks of letters being dumped into blue post office boxes. “A letter was mailed to every single resident of North Schuylkill Township that created a firestorm of controversy. It was signed Charles Lee Ray aka ‘Chucky.’ This is a nod to the horror movie franchise,
Child’s Play
, that featured a homicidal doll.” Richard appeared holding up a letter to the chief. “Do you believe this letter to be the work of James Fisher?”
“Yes, I do,” the chief replied.
“This letter claims that you, Dale, and Kurt took money from local criminal organizations in exchange for safety from police prosecution.”
They cut to the chief. His neck was red, his nostrils flared. “That’s trash. All lies.”
“What about the allegations of convicting an innocent man, Frank Wiggins, of serial rape and murder?”
The chief shook his head, his jaw set tight. “I said, they were lies.”
Richard held up another sheet of paper. “I have a statement from attorney Daniel Nelson who says there were at least seven murders that fit the exact same MO that Frank Wiggins was convicted of,
after
he was put away. Do you think it’s possible Frank Wiggins is innocent?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Do you think the letter from Charles Lee Ray harmed your reputation?” Richard hung air quotes with his hands when he said,
Charles Lee Ray.
“Of course it did.” The chief’s face was red. “It’s sick that you can slander a man like that, after all the sacrifices I’ve made for my community, my country.”
They displayed images of Harold’s trailer. Richard said, “After the letters, you went back to Harold’s home.”
They cut to the inside of Harold’s trailer. The chief said, “I felt like I was missin’ somethin’, that there was a clue that I had overlooked. I went back to Harold’s house and looked through every nook and cranny.” The camera cut to the chief. “When I got to the bathroom, it smelled like raw sewage. I flushed the toilet, and it backed up. His cesspool was clogged. I thought it was odd because I knew he had had a contractor drain it the year before. I went outside. I wasn’t sure exactly where the cesspool was, but I had an idea, because he used to have a stake to mark it.”
They portrayed a dramatization of a police officer walking on leaves. “I was walkin’ and one area felt soft, and my first thought was that someone had been diggin’. You gotta compact the ground after you dig or it’ll sink. I grabbed a rake from Harold’s shed to move some of the leaves. It was obvious that someone had been diggin’ there recently.” They showed helicopter views of Harold’s backyard, with police vehicles and construction equipment digging up the cesspool. “So we opened up the cesspool.” The camera cut back to the chief. He looked down, rubbing his temples.
“What did you find?” Richard asked.
The chief looked up, scowling. “We found Dale and Harold.”
Richard narrated over video of the bodies being hoisted from the cesspool. “When we return, the North Schuylkill Police Department continues to mount a case against James Fisher.”
They returned with the camera on Chief Strickland. He said, “We found hair follicles that matched James Fisher’s DNA on Dale’s body. At that point, we knew we had the evidence. We just needed to find James Fisher.”
Richard spoke over pictures of James. “Unfortunately for the North Schuylkill Police Department, James Fisher was never found, and the pressures and allegations began to mount.” They cut to images of Facebook and YouTube. “The letters, presumably sent by James Fisher, provided web addresses where people could check the validity of the claims made by the author. One of the most damning pieces of evidence is an audiotape illegally obtained in Dot’s Diner, the very same restaurant where Brittany Summers worked.”
Chief Strickland appeared. “She was in on the whole thing. He’s some kind a cult leader.”
“But you couldn’t prove it,” Richard said.
“No.”
“Going back to the letter and the websites, what about the allegations that you and Harold were in fact the perpetrators of the serial rapes and murders?”
The chief stood up, his fists clenched. “I told you that I wasn’t gonna talk about this slander.”
“We have four women who claim that you and Harold raped them and threatened to kill them if they didn’t keep their mouths shut.”
The chief yanked out his mic and stormed off the set.
The camera cut to Richard Schlesinger. “Chief Wade Strickland declined to be interviewed further after we asked him questions about the women you are about to meet.”
The screen showed a blacked-out silhouette of a woman. She spoke with an altered voice. She described how the chief and Harold raped her at the stone house, how they choked her almost to death, revived her, and did it again. Three other women had similar stories. Two of them were brave enough to show their faces. The women were middle-aged, their attacks happening twenty to twenty-five years ago. They were beyond the twelve-year statute of limitations for rape in Pennsylvania.
Richard Schlesinger appeared again. “Here we are six months since the great escape and the cesspool murders, and James Fisher is still out there somewhere.” The show displayed pictures of James smiling with his students. “Was this mild-mannered teacher a cold-blooded killer or, as some claim, a Robin Hood taking out the trash?” The camera showed the chief covering his face as he entered his SUV. “Chief Wade Strickland retired amid controversy. He is facing multiple civil lawsuits. As of this taping, nine women have accused Wade Strickland of rape.” They cut to Kurt being escorted by men with DEA jackets. “Kurt Strickland was recently arrested by the DEA for distributing methamphetamines.” They showed Frank in an orange prison uniform. “Amid national uproar, Frank Wiggins has been granted a new trial by the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania.” The camera cut to pictures of Brittany at New Year’s, with a big smile. “Brittany Summers is attending Northern Virginia Community College and working as a waitress.” Richard Schlesinger appeared. “One of our producers was able to get a comment from the previously silent Ms. Summers. She asked if we would give James Fisher a message over the television. Her message was simply … thank you.”
Chapter 24: Math and History
Chapter 24
Math and History
“Good morning, Mr. Hamilton,” she said in a singsong voice.
“Hi, dear. How are you?” he asked, his leg elevated.
She smiled. “I think I’m supposed to ask
you
that question. How did you sleep?”
“Okay.”
She glanced at the half-f container filled with urine hanging off the bed railing. “I see you were able to urinate. That’s good. Sometimes after anesthesia it can be hard.”
She took the container to the bathroom, dumped the urine, and flushed the toilet. She returned and replaced the container on the bed railing.
“How about some sunlight?” she asked. “It’s gonna be a beautiful day.”
“That’d be great,” he replied.
She opened the curtains, and sunlight streamed into the hospital room. The room overlooked a courtyard. Brittany watched as the early birds got their worms. She turned around and grinned at Mr. Hamilton.
“They should be by with your breakfast soon. Do you need anything else?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Will you be back around?”
“I will, in an hour or so. If you need me before that, just buzz me.”
She pulled off her latex gloves at the door and dumped them in the red bin.
Brittany spent the next four hours making her rounds. At noon she received a text message. She glanced at the clock on her phone.
Shoot.
She hustled to the nurse’s station. A middle-aged woman sat behind the counter.
“I’m going to the cafeteria for lunch,” Brittany said to the woman.
In the elevator, her thumbs moved rapidly. She typed
Sorry, lost track of time. I’ll be there in five minutes
.
In the cafeteria, she grabbed a tray and ordered a chicken salad. She pushed her tray along the stainless steel counter, adding a bottled water along the way. Brittany paid at the register and entered the dining area with her head on a swivel. She saw him and made a beeline to his table. He sat alone, his sandwich almost gone. She sat down, with her bottom lip pressed out.