The Warden

“Right. Anyway, I get a ten-minute break about halfway through my shift, so I go out back. Grant’s there but I didn’t see him right away. He was hiding in between cars.” Her body language leads me to think she was afraid of him or something.

“What happened?”

“He jumped out from behind the cars, scared the shit out of me at first.”

“Did he hurt you?” I’m thinking Grant maybe got what he deserved but don’t say anything.

“He was mad, high, and pissed I wouldn’t go out with him again. We went on a few dates and then he got weird. Squirrelly-I’d call it. Changed into this real asshole. It was awful. He was rude and demanding which was why I stopped going out with him in the first place.” Her body seemed to curl inward protectively. I’d like to give Grant a good fist bashing but luckily someone’s already seen to that.

Thoughts ran rampant in my head imaging all kinds of things happening between Grant and Benedicta. I persisted with a question I knew I shouldn’t be asking but did anyway. It wasn’t particularly relative to the case except that I wanted to know. “Did you sleep with him?”

“Excuse me?

“I’m trying to establish if he felt more of a connection to you.” It’s a lie and she knows it.

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Whatever.”

“Did you?” I asked again.

“No.”

It was hard to mask my relief and I changed the subject. “Was he stalking you at any point?”

“No, but he was known to follow girls. Especially when he didn’t get his way the first time.” Small top teeth bit her bottom lip. If the son of a bitch wasn’t already dead I’d probably beat him to death hearing the implication of this.

“He was feeling scorned.” I encouraged her to keep telling me what happened. My gut sank, feeling nothing good about this.

“I guess, I don’t know. Anyway, he got handsy with me. I slapped him, so he grabbed my arms, bruising me up. I kicked him in the nuts and ran back inside. That was the last time I saw Grant.”

“You kick him hard?” I had trouble imagining her little foot doing much damage.

She seemed to perk up proudly admitting, “He was moaning because I kicked him good and he sank to his knees on the pavement. That’s how I got away from him.”

Silently I cheered her on in my head. Though if she knew the direction of my thoughts she might be tempted to kick me too. Inwardly I smiled proud she at least got a good kick in.

“Did you tell anyone? Your boss? A co-worker?”

“No, of course not. I’m a private person. I can’t believe I’m even telling you any of this.” Keeping the altercation to herself doesn’t help, but again on it’s own isn’t a deal breaker in a case like this. I can’t fathom how the shoddy prosecution got this past a Grand Jury, but what’s done is done.

“What happened next?”

“After my shift I went back outside to my car. I got in and went home. Grant was long gone. The next thing I know police are at my apartment, arresting me, saying I killed him.” She’s quiet, looking her hands over, and I let them go. She’s examining her short nails as if something is under them, guilt maybe shame. It’s definitely not the blood of killing Grant Espina.

“The weapon was identified as a tire-iron from your car.”

“Of course it was. My trunk hasn’t locked since it was broken into last year. I’m not exactly someone swimming in the funds to fix every broken thing in my life.”

No she wasn’t.

“So basically, someone took the tire-iron from your trunk, whacked Grant, dumped his body behind the bar dumpster, put the weapon back in your car, and you didn’t know?” The part I had trouble with was that Benedicta looks a hundred pounds soaking wet. I can’t fathom how she could have hit him numerous times to kill him, and then drag his body behind the dumpster and get rid of the evidence like bloodied clothing. She simply didn’t have that kind of upper body strength. The autopsy report noted that the deceased was easily two hundred twenty pounds, twice her body weight. How on earth was she convicted?

Her agitation increased until she pushed me away. “You know what, fuck this. I’ve said everything before, and I’m done rehashing what I didn’t do.”

I must have led her to believe that I thought she was untruthful. Her cheeks hollowed out from breathing hard and tears looked like they might fall at any second.

“Sit down.”

“No, I fucking won’t. I’d like to go back to my cell please.” She moved for the door but I blocked her from leaving.