The Truth Behind a Smile

“What do you mean, Laura?” He went on holding his tight smile.

“I know that your wife didn’t kill herself, Mr. Clark. She lives in Seattle with her husband and two children. I also know you didn’t grow up in Colorado. You were raised in suburban Michigan. Your parents died, and yes it was by a car crash. I also know that Emily was murdered when she was away on vacation, just as you said. My question is why would you lie about certain things in your life but tell the truth about others? The lies will call into question everything you say, and your credibility will go out the window.”

Stephen’s smile spread out across his face. Head down, he laughed to himself. Without looking up, he said, “I knew you were good.”

“Mr. Clark—”

“Would you have really sat here all this time if I had told you how I was an only child who grew up in a middle-class neighborhood and had parents who were a little strict about raising me according to their beliefs but were otherwise normal? Beliefs I didn’t agree with so instead I was kicked out of the house on my 18th birthday and never saw them or my pets again.”

He shrugged. “I grew up, worked a regular job, fell in love with a beautiful girl, and started a family with her—only for her to fall out of love with me and disappear in the middle of the night, leaving a note in the garage where her car used to be.

“Think about what that was like. You’re a single father raising a girl who doesn’t have a mother, but you don’t want to tell her the despicable truth because you’re afraid she’ll blame herself for driving her mother away, she’ll grow to hate herself when in reality, it’s your fault that her mother left. In the end, you just hope you can see your little girl grow up, but even that’s too good of a thing to happen to you. So instead of watching her walk down the aisle one day, you get to watch her body displayed on an embalming table because you failed to protect her. You failed as a father just as you failed as a husband and even a son.”

Stephen broke eye contact and looked down at the table. “People don’t care about failures. They want to hear about something different, something that would never happen to them because the truth is scary. I just wasn’t man enough to deal with it on my own, and now I have to pay for that, and that’s okay. At least I can accept my punishment like a man.”

Stephen lifted his head and tears streamed down his face once more as if a dam had broken.

“Mr. Clark.”

The intruding voice was deep and got our attention. It also prevented me from responding to Stephen. It belonged to Clarence, who appeared to have been listening in to what Stephen had to say. “I’m sorry but we have to go now. Your visiting hours are over.” His tone was much gentler than it had been when my meeting with Stephen had first begun.

“Yes, of course. Just give me a second to say goodbye.” Stephen wiped at his tears with the sleeve of his jumpsuit once more. His face still damp, he stood up straight and looked me in the eyes. “It’s been a pleasure, Laura. Thank you again for coming.” As he began to turn away, he stopped and asked, “If you knew all this time, why did you let me go on with those stories?”

I thought for a moment. “Sometimes,” I said, “the lies we tell reveal more about ourselves than the truth ever could.”

Stephen smiled once more for me—it was the most genuine smile I’d seen from him during the entire time we spent together. A smile that expressed both immense joy and sorrow. He didn’t linger, however, and, after Clarence, knocking on the table twice, he proceeded to the door. When the guard opened the door, Stephen started to walk out of the room but stopped. “Laura …?” He didn’t turn around.

“Yes, Mr. Clark?”

“Make sure they don’t love me,” he said coldly, his back still turned toward me and after a moment of silence, he walked out the room.

I didn’t see Stephen again after that, escorted by a guard who seemed to have newfound respect for the criminal he would soon see executed. I was informed that there was a seat available if I wanted to witness Stephen’s execution, but I politely refused. For some reason I could not bring myself to see a man die. However guilty he was, I couldn’t help but feel pity for him—pity I’m sure Stephen would not have wanted. I debated whether I should have even shared his story given my emotional bias.

I reached out to Ana shortly after my meeting with Stephen and conducted a separate interview, asking her about why she would leave him and a newborn with no notice. She denied all accusations and said that she tried to remain in contact with Emily, but that Stephen had gone mad and kicked her out of the house. Had it not been for her defensive manner and erratic behavior, I may have been led to believe her and this novel may have been written in a much different tone. But the sincerity and genuine emotions that Stephen had shown me, proved to that she may not have been the perfect wife he had made her out to be.

Going into the prison that morning I felt as though, like much of the population at that time, I had already made up my mind about the kind of man Stephen was. When news of his crimes initially hit the media, Stephen was viewed as an insane old man who one night was bored and went on a murdering spree. The murderers initially showed no pattern, and when he had accidentally crossed state lines when committing his final acts and turning himself in, he raised even more questions about his motive.

Once details of the first murder were released during the trials, and the clerk from the convenience store had explained what happened that night, there grew a small following that believed Stephen to be a hero. Many followers where quickly flushed out and reverted when the unwarranted murders that followed where released, and only amplified when the wealthy family members of the men from the alley took to the stand defending their loved one’s character and image. Public opinion turned.

Stephen was brief and open when his time on the stand had finally come, answering quickly, and confessing openly. This, tied with his willingness to accept any punishment during the final days made for a swift proceeding that left many of the public in the dark about his motive behind it all. As the years passed, and Stephen kept to his silence, it was believed that the world would never know what caused him to kill that night. It wasn’t until a week before his death when Stephen asked to meet with me by name that there was finally some hope again and the public would have answers. Only, I was not prepared for the truth behind his smile.

When the hour approached, I was sitting alone at my kitchen table and couldn’t help but wonder whether he truly deserved to die. Either way, I know that when they flipped that switch, Stephen was smiling.