Author’s Note:
A Daria fan had been upset over
a school shooting in his area and asked that a Daria fanfic be created in which Daria
overcomes (or at least deals with) a school shooting, and I was inspired to
craft the fic you see before you now....and I think
it’s different from any other school shooting story I’ve seen, too. There will
be more expansive notes when I finish. But I want one thing understood before
you start reading my story:
This is a story in the Daria-verse,
where every sacred cow is in danger of becoming hamburger. This also includes
references (and, in Part III, characters) from *Beavis & Butt-head Do
America*, which Daria had a cameo role in as the BATF
tore up her classroom and assaulted her teacher in front of her.
This is a story about how Daria
and friends would try to keep their heads above water in a majorly
screwed-up society. Particularly if they ever found
themselves as chess pieces in a plot as Byzantine as this one.
This is NOT meant as a story to sermonize on the gun debate.
The background issues of victim disarmament/gun control (pick your preferred
catchphrase there) aren’t what this story is about. But the screwed-up
politicking (and poli-tricking) and deal making
behind it all are part of the story. The "debates" are also a way of
showing character development, as Daria is forced to
deal with a lot of guilt and others deal with their ingrained prejudices (and
their own feelings of guilt), for and against the use of guns.
I’ve noticed that people with strong feelings on this
subject have automatically assumed that I favor whichever side they oppose.
This isn’t necessarily true, for if you look at it with a little less passion,
you’ll see I don’t put either side (or even Daria
herself) on a pedestal. Perhaps I should say it’s a story about human nature
more than it is about the Great American Gun Debate.
Send kudos, commiserations, death threats, ad hominem attacks, tear-jerking stories, hellfire and
brimstone preaching, guilt-and-shame trips, etc, etc, to janerhynn@hotmail.com
Daria in
Something To Shoot For,
Part I of III
by Dervish
1.
---------------------------------------------
03/14/01, 8:30 A.M., Wednesday
---------------------------------------------
“I can’t believe Ms. Li had the gall to look through our
things,” said Sandi testily. “We, the esteemed members of The Fashion Club.”
“I knoooowwww,” said Tiffany.
Stacy piped in with, “I can’t believe she took your nail
file, Quinn!”
“I know,” said Quinn in shocked disgust, “I guess I’ll
have to start using an emery board.” What a bad way for the day to start,
she thought in annoyance.
“Quinn,” said Matthew’s voice from a distance, but
sounding urgent. Again. Quinn frowned, forgetting all
about her nail file. “Quinn,” he said again, urgently, “We need to talk about
your mom. She’s trying to get a restraining order against me!”
Quinn half-sighed, half-growled. “Matthew, stay away from me!” She should be terrified or
enraged to see him again so soon, but most of her feelings seemed to go away
when she heard his voice. All she knew was she wanted him gone.
Matthew approached and spoke with more force. “Quinn, we
need to talk NOW. It’s urgent.” Quinn looked away. His curly brown hair, his
green eyes, that so many of the girls drooled over had
never really been that attractive to Quinn, although she’d pretended interest.
Now she just wanted him to leave her alone.
“Quinn,” said Sandi with annoyance, “he needs to stop
interrupting Fashion Club business. Maybe you should give up your Vice
Presidential duties if you can’t curb him better than that.” She glared, but
softened slightly when she looked again at Quinn’s swollen cheek, now covered
with makeup, where Matthew had hit her just two days ago.
Matthew, who heard every word and knew he was being
ignored, grew furious. “CURB me? You’re the stupid bitch, you...”
“Young man!” shouted Ms. Li. “I will not tolerate that
attitude in the halls of
“This doesn’t concern you,” Matthew said in an icy tone.
Ms. Li blinked at such a flagrant lack of respect for
authority. Then she looked at Quinn and back at Matthew and her eyes narrowed.
Turning back to Quinn, she asked, “Is this Matthew Foster?”
Quinn nodded cautiously.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Morgendorffer,
I just got a copy of the restraining order and will be changing his locker
number, along with transferring him out of any classes that you share.”
“What!?” Matthew sounded furious, but now he glared at Ms.
Li.
Quinn smiled her thanks tremulously. Then Matthew looked
back at her and slowly smiled in a way she never seen before. A chill traveled
down her spine. “Let’s go,” said Quinn softly. Sandi snorted in agreement, and
they continued walking into the bowels of Lawndale High.
Quinn tuned out the Fashion Club as she heard Ms. Li tell
Matthew, “I believe you have a long absence to explain, young man; maybe I’ll
just expel you. In any case, you will remain with me until I can get you square
with the restraining order against you in my office.”
Matthew grunted, “I’m not bound by your rules.”
Ms. Li exclaimed loudly enough for Quinn to clearly hear,
“You will follow the rules like all other students! And like all other
students, you will allow me to look through your backpack for drugs, weapons,
cartoons demoralizing to Lawndale High, and other contraband on this safe
morning.”
And then their voices began to melt too much for her to
understand them, but only for a moment.
“What in the name of God!?” shouted Ms. Li. Quinn spun
around, and the Fashion Club turned their heads, to see Matthew with a large
barrel gun pointed at Ms. Li. Then they heard deafening reports that turned
their everyday world into something surreal. Like magic, each report was
matched by another bleeding wound in Ms. Li. Ms. Li was on the ground trying to
crawl away. A cloud of smoke seemed to magically appear around the gun. Quinn’s
ears rang with the reports, and nearly all other noise had stopped.
“Have fun, bitch,” said a leering Matthew who seemed to be
enjoying his adrenaline, “you’ll die far too quickly for my tastes!”
Then the screaming and running began. Quinn was bumped
hard enough to drop her books by someone running past her.
“Ohmigod, run Quinn!” shouted
Stacy. Sandi had already taken off. Quinn stared mesmerized. All time had
slowed, and yet so had she. She could not move. This was really happening. But
it couldn’t be. This had to be a nightmare. Yes, a nightmare. Who wouldn’t have
nightmares after Matthew had made all those horrible threats to her and Daria over the last two weeks? And why couldn’t he leave
her alone? Didn’t she make it clear, several times,
she NEVER wanted to see him again?
He advanced on her, gun pointed at the floor, a trickle of
smoke maybe coming out of the barrel. Quinn wasn’t sure if this was real or
not. She desperately hoped it was not. But the smell of smoke and gun oil
seemed to mock her hopes.
The maniacal gleam in his eyes said there was no reasoning
with him, no manipulating him, no way to even predict anything other than he
WOULD kill her as soon as he raised the gun.... and he would raise it the
moment she made a move to escape.
“Surprised there’s more to me than the family cabin,
Quinn? Yeah, there’s a lot of OTHER stuff I have that you can now enjoy!”
“QUINNN!!!” shouted Sandi from a distance. Quinn was the
only Fashion Club member still there, staring at Matthew like a rabbit staring
at an oncoming car. She knew there was no one to save her this time.
Suddenly, there was a primal yell. Jodie’s
shrill shriek that sounded just as primal, “MACK, NO!!!!”
Matthew turned and quickly raised the gun at a charging,
yelling Mack and squeezed the trigger. Blood splattered from a little below his
shoulder, and began dripping down his jersey. He staggered, but he showed no
pain, and it looked as if he were going to rush him
again, but Jodie leaped on his back. “MACK, STOP!!!!”
Quinn’s paralysis was broken. Without a sound, she turned
and ran. But she heard two reports, and knew he was shooting at her. She heard
his heavy breathing and loud footsteps hurrying to catch up. The halls were now
empty, but she noticed a few people hiding in classrooms and thought to hide in
one, but knew he would hunt her down in any of them. She was the main target of
his wrath.
Suddenly, another report, and the wall almost directly in
front of her splintered, and left a noticeable hole. She knew she shouldn’t,
but she did it before she could stop herself. She fell, rolling on the ground.
Facing towards Matthew now, she saw he could run very
fast. He stopped only a meter away, breathing hard, and pointed the gun down at
Quinn. A drop of sweat flowed past one crazed eye.
It was obvious he wasn’t going to say anything this time.
She thought she could see the bullet in the barrel that was aimed at her on the
floor on her hands and knees. When he fired, she was going to get it in the
face. She didn’t even know she was groaning.
Three loud reports and Quinn shrieked short and loud and
started shaking and crying.... but she was unhurt. She vaguely noticed that he
jerked his gun up some and pulled the trigger, missing her by a wide margin.
She still flinched. But Matthew looked confused, as if he couldn’t figure out
why Quinn was still alive.
Then he dropped to his own knees, pointing the gun at the
floor again. Then the gun fell from his limp hand and he fell
face down. Quinn could see there was blood in his hair. And there, only a few
meters behind him, stood Daria Morgendorffer
holding another gun in a 2-handed grip, with her usual emotionless face.
Daria kept the gun pointed at him, as Matthew lay bleeding. After a
minute (so it seemed--it felt like a day), Daria
dropped to her knees, ejected the mag from her gun,
made sure the chamber was empty, and set it down beside her. Then she covered
her face in her arms and sobbed.
It took Quinn awhile to realize that Matthew wasn’t
getting up, and that Matthew was never going to hurt her again. She got up
shakily and walked unsteadily over to Daria, bent
down and hugged her. She did not care if anyone saw. She had forgotten the rest
of the world existed. For a few brief moments, Daria
and Quinn were sisters who loved each other, not a social outcast and a
popularity achiever that avoided each other.
2.
---------------------------------------
03/14/01, 8:40 A.M., Wednesday
----------------------------------------
“Daria?” It was Jane, returning Daria to the present. She was holding onto Quinn who was
sobbing on her shoulder. She didn’t let go. “What?”
Jane was worried to begin with, but that casual question
really bothered her.
“Everyone is outside already,” said Jane, “or almost
everyone. We should join them.”
With effort, Daria returned
herself to the present and helped a crying Quinn away from Matthew’s corpse.
(She didn’t check, but something in her gut told her Matthew was dead.) After her short spell, she felt.... well, not better, but more in
control. She could think again, which is something she really needed to
do. They walked a little behind Jane, Quinn continuing to hold onto Daria, who returned the hold.
Jane, Quinn and Daria came
across Ms. Li lying on her back, with Mack and Jodie beside her. Jodie was calm
but crying, and Mack looked exhausted--and bloody. It wasn’t clear how much of
that blood was his own, and how much belonged to other
people, like Ms. Li.
Quinn, beginning to regain her awareness of where she was,
just knew she saw him get shot. They had elevated Ms. Li’s feet on cushions
from a couch and put bandages on her.
“Are you two hurt?” asked Jodie, staring unbelievingly at Daria and Quinn clutching each other. Quinn was still
crying, Daria obviously had
done so, however calm she might be right now. Jodie grimaced as she caught the
swelling on Quinn’s cheek, with just a bit of a bruise showing there. So the
rumors were true.
“We’re fine,” said Daria
deadpan.
Yeah, right, Jodie thought.
“Is she dead?” asked Quinn. She couldn’t see how Ms. Li
could be otherwise. She saw Matthew shoot her 4 times with that huge gun of
his.
“No,” said Jodie. “Weak breath.
But steady. I’m not sure where the nurse is. I grabbed all the bandages, gauze,
and first aid materials I could find. And stupid 9-1-1 was busy!” Jodie’s face
broke. “Oh, god Daria, Mack’s been shot.”
“I’ll be fine,” said Mack, pressing at the side of his
chest, a little under the shoulder.
Jodie glared at him through her tears, and then turned
back to Quinn. “How did you get away? And he IS out, right? You sure weren’t
running, and there haven’t been anymore shots. I assume he’s.... stopped.”
“Yeah,” said Quinn weakly. “Daria
shot him.”
Jodie’s head twisted to stare at Daria
in open shock. “How did you get his gun away from him?”
“I had my own gun,” said Daria
groaning inwardly at her own admission, but suddenly feeling an overwhelming
need to justify what she did. “I’m sorry. But he had threatened us. I knew
restraining orders usually don’t help. It can trigger violence. And he had
already threatened Quinn, and then threatened me when I called the cops. He
left, but I knew he was serious. I could feel it down in my gut. It was a
feeling I never had before, and hope I never will experience again.”
Jane looked as if she thought Daria
was crazy to have just divulged that. And so damn casually!
Jodie stared a bit more, and then went back to checking on
Ms. Li. Daria knew that most people would not see
what she did as heroic. And as much as she hated to bite the bullet, she
figured she’d better call her mom now. She was tempted to have Quinn make the
call, but Quinn was fighting hysterics.
“Quinn, may I borrow your phone?”
“It’s in my backpack,” said Quinn weakly.
“I’ll get it, amiga,” said Jane.
Only a little quiver to her voice, but otherwise also
casual. She reached in Quinn’s backpack, and finally found it and pulled it
out. She clicked it on, and after it beeped, she handed it to Daria.
Quinn had an almost vice-like grip on Daria.
Luckily, Daria just had to hit a button to call her
mom’s office. And after arguing with the secretary with unusual heat, she
finally got her mom on the line.
“Daria,” said Helen Morgendorffer, “this had better be good!”
Daria felt a slight twinge at wanting to say something brilliant that
would go over her head, but couldn’t find any real inspiration. “Mom, Matthew
brought a gun to school and tried to kill Quinn.”
There was a second of silence before Daria
pulled the phone away from her ear a bit. Even Quinn heard a loud, audible,
“What!?”
“Matthew. He came to school. He shot Ms. Li and Mack. And
he tried to shoot Quinn.” Now for the good part, thought Daria,
as her insides twisted almost as bad as when she squeezed the trigger some time
ago.”She’s okay,” said Daria.
“I prepared for this. It was a good thing. I shot him before he could shoot
Quinn.”
Daria pulled the phone away again as her mom began ranting. “This is
NOT funny in the least, Daria Morgendorffer!”
That was the first time in years Helen had used her last name, Daria noted grimly. “I want to know what you thought you
would accomplish with this joke besides getting yourself grounded for a month!
And counseling for you!”
“Mom,” said Daria calmly, even
as her heart was beating faster again, “I’m not joking. Would you like to talk
to Quinn. She’s right here beside me.”
When no answer came, Daria
sighed and handed the phone to Quinn. “Here,” she said deadpan, “You tell her
what happened.”
Quinn snatched it away and began babbling incoherently,
crying hard again. She repeated herself over and over without making much
sense. Finally, “What!? Oh.... okay. Here.” Quinn
sounded almost sullen for some reason, Daria thought.
Helen was crying now, too. But there was more silence in
the background, so Helen must have gone somewhere more private, Daria realized. “Daria, you shot
that boy. Please tell me you shot him with his own gun!”
“No,” said Daria, “I was scared
and brought one of my own, knowing he was likely to try something like this.
I’ve been studying stalker cases, you see. I knew that restraining order was
likely to drive him over the edge. So I prepared.” Daria
wished she could stop this unexpected need to justify herself from babbling out
like that.
“Listen to me very carefully, Daria,”
said Helen slowly and precisely and with an intensity Daria
never heard her mom use before. “That gun belongs to Matthew. He dropped it.
You picked it up and fired it without thinking. You were sure he was going to
kill you both. Do you understand me?”
“Mom,” said Daria, "He WAS
going to kill Quinn, and me if he saw me. But there are cameras in the
hallways. It almost certainly got on video. Other people might have seen. And
Jodie and Mack already know the truth.”
Daria decided not to comment on Quinn’s state at the moment. Or her own. Jodie and Mack stared intently at them both now.
“Daria,” said Helen imploringly,
“You don’t understand. Even if it were self-defense, you broke federal and
state laws that don't care if your life is in danger. The Gun-Free Zones Act,
the Project Safe Neighborhoods. You are legally an adult. You are looking at
several years of federal prison at least. And that’s not counting the local
charges or the law suit Matthew’s family might bring against you.”
“What!?” Daria had expected
something horrible from the legal standpoint, but the last startled her and
outraged her more than anything. "Why would his family
sue me!?"
Helen sighed. “I’m sorry, Daria,
but our society prefers to blame everyone and everything but the criminal that
started it. Families have sued those who have stopped a violent criminal
rampage with a gun or other weapon. It happens more often than you know.” Helen
suddenly sounded old.
Icy fury filled Daria, but she
suppressed it. “Can you sue his family?”
Helen gasped. “I hadn’t thought of that, Daria, but it’s a thought. I can use it to scare them into
leaving you alone, anyway. But that’s really one of the smaller problems. Even
if I call in every favor I can to get you off, there’s still the federal laws
that I can’t do anything about. Please, Daria, are
you absolutely sure? Are the police there?”
“I’m pretty sure. But no, there’s no police. At least not
inside the building.”
“I’m on my way, Daria. Please
don’t volunteer any information. Don’t leave the scene of the....” Here Helen
stopped herself. Then continued, “Of the incident.
Don’t talk to anyone, Daria. Don’t let Quinn talk,
either. If any police question you, avail yourself of your right to remain
silent. Except to let them know I will sue their asses off if they take
advantage of Quinn while she’s in the state she’s in!” Daria
knew Helen wasn’t bluffing.
“Okay,” said Daria.
“I’m on my way,” said Helen. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” Helen hung up, and Daria
punched in 9-1-1 with one hand. Busy. “Sorry,” she said to Jodie. “9-1-1 is
still busy.”
“Thanks for trying,” said Jodie weakly. Then
looked up after a moment. “Daria,” she said
uncertainly, “If you wanted to claim the gun you used belonged to Matthew,
I’d..... I’d back you.”
“Me, too,” said Mack decisively.
“And me,” said Jane unnecessarily, and a bit of pleading.
Daria was sorely tempted. She wondered where the film was held for
the hall cams. She wanted to see the angle they got. And were they on cam now?
Did they have audio? Not enough information for Daria
to make a choice. She now realized that she hadn't thought this out anywhere as
well as she thought she had.
A loud click, booted feet. “ON THE FLOOR! NOW!”
Time for thinking was over. They all got on the floor as several cops looking
vaguely like heavily armed ninjas were approaching. In some odd way, the cops
seemed as murderous as Matthew. Several cops came up to them, their guns still
drawing beads on them. “Where’s the shooter?” asked one.
“In... in the hall,” said Jodie. “But Mack and Ms. Li here
are hurt. They need an ambulance.”
“There’s ambulance outside,” said the cop, before speaking
into a radio on his shoulder. He looked back down on them and said, “They’ll be
in....” several gunshots echoed from down the hallway. Quinn began sobbing
again, and all the others came close. They thought the shooting was over and it
was so LOUD.
The cops lost interest in them and went to the hallways,
taking up point positions. Daria heard one of the
cops swear with many words Ms. Li would disapprove of. He shouted something
about, “Next time, make damn sure before you shoot again!”
Radio squawks echoed everywhere. More cops came running
in. Now some
“Over here!” shouted Jodie with a sense of relief that bordered on joy.
“Wait,” said one cop, a different one, if he looked like a
carbon copy of the first one that spoke earlier. “Stay on the floor.”
“What!?” asked Jodie. “We’ve got two wounded over here!”
“Stay calm, miss,” he said professionally and without
feeling. Jodie felt herself beginning to lose it, but bit down on her natural
reaction.
Luckily, more
The cops didn’t search any of them, and even with the buzz
of the metal detector from the gurneys and cops going through as well as Daria's gun hidden in a gun pouch under her shirt, did
anyone stop to think that there might've been another shooter among them.
3.
---------------------------------------
03/14/01, 10:00 A.M., Wednesday
----------------------------------------
Daria was sitting in the front seat of her mom’s car, door open, feet
on the curb, watching Quinn and the cops, with Helen hovering over them. She
couldn’t hear what they were saying over the radio she tuned through
listlessly.
“.....Police have released no names at this point, but the
shooter was apparently a jilted lover who shot his principal, a boy for being
black, and his girlfriend before taking his own life. We have word that the
principal and black student are in critical condition,
while the girl and the shooter are both dead......”
“....Why was this student allowed to have access to guns
anyway? Do we want all our schools to become places where shoot-outs are
common? How many more children have to die?....”
“....This is why teachers need to have guns, to prevent
incidents like this from happening. I wouldn’t just make it optional, I’d make
it mandatory......”
Daria’s shaking hand kept flipping the tuner on the radio in her mom’s
car. What had happened was all over. So far, no one seemed to know there was
another shooter. The accuracy of the reports themselves were
confused, at best. No one knew anything, but it wasn’t stopping people from
acting as if they knew, reporting wild speculations as facts, and exploiting
this situation for whatever pet political agendas they had. It really was a
sick, sad world.
She regretted sending Jane away. But she didn’t want Jane
with her if she got arrested. It would be too easy to arrest her, too. Jane
begged Daria to give her the gun, but Daria refused. If the police didn’t find it on her, they
would go after Jane.
Daria was amazed at how fast the police and the media showed up in
force. And more kept coming. It was uncanny. She hadn’t thought either of them
could respond with this kind of alacrity. It had taken the cops of Columbine
hours longer to gather and organize the kinds of tac teams that swarmed Lawndale High now.
Right now, they were running dogs all through and around
Lawndale High sniffing at everything. Daria had to
give them credit for being thorough. She’d heard
Helen was with Quinn, talking to a few police officers.
They seemed to be questioning Quinn, but Helen was doing most of the talking.
The police seemed confused and annoyed by the defensiveness and protectiveness
of Helen, but seemed willing to put up with it. For now.
“....We said it over and over again folks, that taking God
out of the schools is putting the violence and the drugs and the sex in, for
where there is no God, there is Satan....”
Daria clicked off the radio. She felt tears well up again, but they
didn’t spill over. She dimly realized she was in some kind of shock, and her
mind was struggling to convince her this was all a
dream. She would be strong and remind herself that while this sucked, it was
real.
Several police officers, possibly even a SWAT team with
all their body armor and guns Daria mused, joined
Helen and Quinn and the other officers. Daria saw one
black gloved hand holding what looked to be a video tape up to one who was
probably a detective, and her heart raced. Helen slowly turned to look towards Daria and she knew that they knew. Bumps crawled over her
flesh as she fought to maintain her composure.
Helen turned and said something to them and started
walking towards her. Several tense cops walked behind her, but Helen paid them
no mind. As they got close, Daria stepped out of the
car and then chaos broke loose.
One black-cad arm grabbed Helen and pulled her down to the
ground. Several of the black cad team raised their weapons at her screaming incoherently.
Of the few orders they barked at her that she could make out included, “don’t
move!” and “get on the ground now!”
Helen was also screaming at them in panic to stop and
she’d have their badge among other things. Daria
couldn’t make much sense out of what was being said, but she suddenly
remembered how trigger happy they were in the school hallways. They were almost
as bad as the BATF had been in her
Daria put her hands up, figuring that was one of the things they were
yelling. And now only one voice rose above Helen’s for Daria
to lay herself on the ground. As Daria knelt down,
she used her hands to balance on the pavement eliciting many more screams of
things like, “Keep your hands where I can see them!”
Scared or not, she was finding the police to be rather
annoying. Was everyone in the world this stupid and panicky? They might have a
record response time, but they hardly lived up to their reputations of courage,
intelligence, and cool temperament under fire shown on the silver screen.
“Another illusion shattered,” Daria
mumbled glumly, as she stretched her arms and legs out, lying flat on the asphalt.
She was soon surrounded by several men pointing guns at
her. She fought the temptation to tell them that Lawndale High was a gun free
zone, or “away put your weapons, I mean you no harm.”
She felt a hand firmly push down on the small of her back,
just below the belt with her gun pouch. Her right hand was grabbed so firmly as
to hurt, even bending her index finger, and brought behind her back. After they
yanked her other hand back, she found being cuffed can actually hurt. They were
either sadistic, or they were truly afraid of her.
One then sat heavily on the back of her knees and another
officer took off her Doc Martins. The one sitting on her ran his hands down her
back and side. She wondered if that was legal, as they were supposed to have women
to do that, and some were present. The searching officer finally felt the belt
under Daria’s shirt. He pulled her shirt up revealing
the belt.
“Hey, watch it!” she said, “we’re
not even married.” She was beginning to wonder if she should’ve just shot it
out and be done with it.
The belt finally came off. “Gun!” yelled the searching
officer. They continued the search, and then did it again. Then two helped to
pull her up and one ran a nightstick over her front. Then one from behind used
his hands to search her front more firmly. Daria
repressed the urge to say her dad would force him to marry her in a shotgun
wedding for fear of them seeing that as a terroristic
threat.
Daria heard Helen, finally on her feet and brushing herself off, say,
“I am her lawyer, she is availing of herself to be silent....”
“You knew,” said the man Daria
assumed to be a DT. “I ought to have you both arrested!”
The police finally stopped searching her, but seemed
frustrated. “Give her to Sergeant Lanny,” said one.
“I want her thoroughly searched!”
Daria saw that several cops were going through her mom’s car,
including with a dog. What the hell were they looking for?
Daria was stopped a short distance from Helen where she was read her
rights. They seemed to be making a point to Helen, but Daria
couldn’t make out what it was. Helen looked worried though, and that couldn’t
be a good sign.
Helen took her eyes off Daria to
turn to the detective. “Detective Warner, your department is using excessive
force! If you don’t....”
“Mrs. Morgendorffer,” said the
detective with a lot of heat, “we have two seriously wounded and a dead body.
If you don’t want to join your daughter in a detention cell with charges of
obstruction of justice and interfering in an investigation, then you’ll let me
do my damn job. We know what we’re doing, and you will be made aware of the
reasons soon enough.” With that, he turned and walked off, audibly cursing.
Daria was soon out of range to hear anything more. They eventually
came to a car and opened the back door. “Watch your head,” said a monotone
voice as she was put in and the door slammed behind her.
Now she could only see Helen, not hear her. Only the
crackle of the police radio made noise in the car. She looked and saw Quinn
looking at her forlornly, crying. Her own tears fell
then, and she lost any regret for having saved Quinn’s life, even if the cost
might be her own future.
Then she saw Jane in handcuffs being put into another car.
Damn. Life sucked.
4.
---------------------------------------
03/14/01, 4:20 P.M., Wednesday
----------------------------------------
Hours that felt like days assaulted Daria
Morgendorffer, as she was booked in, strip searched
with more zealotry than required, scanned by devices, fingerprinted, pictured. When they finally got through one cop told the detective that had
threatened to arrest her mom that nothing was found on her. He expressed
his cynicism with some expletives and ordered the search done again.
“She’s smart,” he said, pointing at her. “Watch her!”
So she was searched again. Then she was put into a room
with a mirror that she knew was two-way. Daria didn’t
understand what was happening. At least she wasn’t put in a suit of some kind,
and she got her Doc Martins back.
And here she waited hours, still in handcuffs. She hadn’t
had lunch and she was pretty hungry. She also needed a bathroom pretty bad
about now. She called out a few times, but no one responded to her.
As she was finding that she could sleep in her position,
the door came open and two men came in, including the big and swarthy man who
threatened to arrest her mom, and the other one a bit more rounded out with his
hair made slick with some kind of jell. The one who threatened her mom glared
at her as if he hated her.
The other one smiled disarmingly as he pulled out a file
and began going through it. He cleared his throat, almost apologetically. “I’m
sorry for the wait, Daria, but it’s been a zoo. The
press is out for blood. They really want to know who you are. I don’t want to
say anything, especially until I know what’s going on myself.”
He looked at Daria who stared at him emotionlessly.
“Just relax, okay? We’re all friends here.”
“Can I go to the bathroom?”
He looked embarrassed. “Oh, sure.”
He looked up at the one who was still glaring at her. “Dan,” he said in a lower
voice, “Could you get Sergeant Lanny to escort Daria here to, uh, where she needs to go?”
“Actually,” said Daria a bit
uncomfortable, “I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting Sergeant Lanny. Can someone else escort me?”
The glaring cop called “Dan” smiled at her menacingly. “Your call. But I warn you, Sergeant Lanny
is one of our nicer people.”
The other cop got up and talked to him too low for Daria to hear. The cop glared at Daria
as he walked to the door and left.
After he left, the other cop said, “Daria,
my name is Glenn Cartwright. I’m pretty much in charge in investigating what
happened at Lawndale High today. My partner is named Dan Warner, also a
detective. Due to another investigation in progress regarding the activities of
Matthew Foster, he has also been assigned to this case. He’s in a really bad
mood and dealing with a lot of hard circumstances that you accidentally caused
to his investigation. But if you answer our questions quickly, I’m sure we can
all go home sooner, and that should put Detective Warner in a better mood.”
“I can go home?” Daria asked in
a mix of hope and disbelief.
“I don’t know,” said Cartwright. “I hope so. I think you
were just scared and did what you thought you had to do to defend yourself.
You’re young, in a bad situation. I have a daughter not much younger than you,
and I know how scary the world can be to young people, and the poor judgment
teens sometimes use without meaning to hurt anyone.” He looked at her as if
asking if she was okay with this.
“I’m wondering something,” said Daria.
When Cartwright made an expression to ask away, Daria
asked, “I was seen on the video shooting Matthew, so you knew what I looked
like. But how did you know it was me, Daria, and how
did you know who my mom is to ask her and find out where I was?”
Cartwright seemed to blanch. “You’ve never been in trouble
with the law before?”
Daria shook her head.
“I don’t know, Daria, but I
wasn’t there. Warner was, but you don’t want to ask him about that right now.
But I’m sure it will become clear as we look into what happened together.”
Daria didn’t like that answer at all. She had been briefly
interviewed by a female officer two days ago, but all the cop did was get her name
and ask if she saw Matthew hit Quinn or if she had seen a gun. Saying no, the
cop moved on. Almost all the attention had been on Quinn and with Helen. She
didn’t think that was how they recognized her this morning. But she didn’t know
how else to pursue it for the time being. So instead she asked, “How much time
am I looking at?”
He tightened his lips, and looked a bit uncomfortable. “I
personally think the most you should get is probation for bad judgment. And you
might have even saved a life, maybe several lives.” He looked at the door
before looking back. “Warner, though,” he made a face, “he thinks anyone who
has a gun has something to hide.”
“He must not trust cops much,” Daria
replied.
Cartwright chuckled and then turned serious. “Please help
us, and I think we can help you. We know the guy you shot. He has a history of
violence. He had threatened you and your sister before, hadn’t he?”
Daria nodded. Maybe she really had a friend. Warner had threatened
her mom and now he was threatening her. He seemed to really hate her. She shook
her head to clear it of rambling thoughts. “Can you tell me what Matthew was
being investigated for?”
Cartwright shook his head in disgust. “I’m sorry, Daria, but that’s privileged information. But I will say if
anyone ever needed killing, it was him. It’s bad to say that, but that’s how I
feel about it. I tell you, Daria, I think you did us
all a favor, and I want to say thank you. But don’t tell anyone, not even
Detective Warner, or I’ll deny it.” He smiled and winked at her.
“What about me?” asked Daria. “And am I going to be
charged with federal crimes?”
“What federal crimes would that be?” Cartwright seemed
more curious than anything.
“I didn’t violate any by bringing a gun to school?”
“Yeah, you might have. You violated
“Are these cuffs necessary?”
“I don’t think so,” said
Cartwright, “but Warner insisted. At least until we let you go or put you in a
cell. And the rules are on his side on this.”
Daria doubted that.
“Can I, uh, ask you something, Daria?”
Daria nodded.
“Where, um, where did you get that little gun of yours?”
When Daria stared at him, he
waved his hands in a “nothing to worry about here” gesture. “I’m just wondering
because it’s so small, but you took that scumbag out! I’d like to get one for
my wife.”
“I’m sure any gun store can get you one," replied Daria. If you're not going to answer my questions, why
should I answer yours?
Detective Cartwright frowned at that, and before anything
else was said, Sergeant Lanny came in and took Daria out and brought her back. When she came back, looking
much calmer, the two detectives were talking in low tones, but very animated.
They both put on the faces she recalled when they looked at her.
Daria, let go by the chair she had been in, sat back down and stared
at them quietly. They both seemed to dislike that calm expression on her face.
“Now Daria,” said Cartwright,
“why did you get a gun?”
“Don’t I get a lawyer?” asked Daria.
Warner laughed. “What did I tell you?” he said to
Cartwright. “These punks think they all know how to work the system.” He turned
to Daria and put his hands on the table as he firmly
said with contempt dripping from his voice like acid, “No, kid, this ain’t TV. You answer our questions, and then you get a
lawyer.”
Cartwright motioned for Warner to calm down before turning
back to Daria. “Daria, we
don’t even know if we’re going to charge you with anything. If there are formal
charges, then yes, you get a lawyer. If you answer our questions without any
trouble or resistance, I’m sure you’ll be home in time for supper.” Daria’s stomach rumbled at the mere mention of supper. He
shrugged nonchalantly at her. “You saved your sister’s life. It’s not like you
got anything to hide, do you?”
Daria looked towards the mirror behind the two detectives. She
recalled her mother saying something about a “gun free zone act” and “project
safe neighborhoods,” both being federal statutes. “I want a lawyer,” she said
again and more firmly.
“Daria,” Detective Cartwright
said pleadingly, “even if we let you go, we have paperwork to fill out. Let’s
not be hostile about this. Just tell us enough to fill out our paperwork and
we’ll probably let you go.”
Detective Warner got up and approached the silent Daria. He stared down at her with his arms crossed. “Tell
us what you were doing at the Zen on March 2nd and I’ll help you get a lawyer,”
he said.
Cold.
Daria tried not to sweat, but she could feel the
moisture building, and yet she felt cold. How much did they know? She took an
unsteady breath and repeated, “I want a lawyer.”
Detective Warner’s eyes bore into Daria’s
as he said in a low voice, “Maybe the Sloanes will
get you a lawyer.”
Daria blinked at that with genuine confusion. “Why would they do
that?” She blurted that out before she could stop herself.
Detective Warner walked to where he was standing directly
behind Daria. He rested his dark hands on her
shoulders while he continued to stare at her eyes, using the mirror to do so.
“What did you talk to Matthew about at the Zen?”
Daria’s face hardened. “I want a lawyer.”
“GODDAMMIT!!!” shouted Warner from behind her causing her
to squeeze her eyes shut instinctively for several moments, “You and Jane both
plotted to kill that kid, didn’t you! I bet you thought he had killed your
sister before you shot him! You set him up but killed him before he did his
job!”
Daria’s face flushed with heat. “Jane had nothing to do with it!” said Daria. “I don’t know why she didn’t run when I did what I did,
but she doesn’t know anything!” She was close to babbling and she quickly got
hold of herself.
Patting Daria’s shoulder a
couple of times, Detective Warner started to casually walk back to his chair on
the other side of the table “Oh, that’s very touching,” said Warner with such
sarcasm as to impress even Daria. “But your friend
already told us everything, including how you hated your sister. Who do you
think we’ve been talking to all this time? You stupid kids.
You can never keep a secret. She already told us how you plotted to kill him
after you used him to kill Quinn, told us about your disagreement with Matthew
at the Zen, and that you threatened to kill her if she said anything.”
Daria didn’t know how they knew about the incident at the Zen, but
she couldn’t trace any of what happened there with the other questions. They
must be lying. She shook her head no in denial of their words.
“I’m sorry, Daria,” said
Detective Cartwright regretfully, “but
Daria grew furious. The lying bastards had real practice at sounding
like they were telling the truth. But she said nothing, merely making a mental
note never to play poker with them.
Warner grew calm and sat down, smiling as if he knew a
very nasty secret that Daria was not going to like.
“If you stay silent, Jane will get off, but you’ll never see the outside of a
prison cell until you’re collecting social security. Don’t you think Jane
should grow old with you?”
“Liar,” Daria gritted out. Both
detectives actually looked as if they had been slapped.
“You don’t think we want to help?” asked Cartwright,
looking wounded.
Daria just stared at him deadpan until even Cartwright began to feel
a chill.
“Believe what you want,” said Detective Warner, “but
She knew they were lying, but she couldn’t help breaking
into tears again. Mainly because she knew that Jane was going through
everything she was going through, too. All because of her.
They were telling Jane that Daria was putting all the
blame on her. She hoped Jane knew better, just as Daria
knew better. “I want a lawyer,” she said again, this time her voice shaking and
her tears falling free.
“YOU DON’T GET A LAWYER!” shouted
Warner, slamming his fists on the table, startling Daria.
She hated the cuffs on her wrists as she felt an overwhelming need to be able
to block against blows.
Cartwright grabbed at Warner to calm him down and whisper
in his ear, but Warner continued with, “And a lawyer won’t do you any good.
Video doesn’t lie, kid.” He let himself be calmed by
Cartwright then.
Cartwright turned back to Daria.
“I know this is very uncomfortable for you. Heck, we want to go home just as
badly as you do, but we can’t until we get the paperwork on this finished. And
we can’t do that,” he said pleadingly, “until you answer only a few simple
questions. We just want to understand what’s going on here, Daria.”
He shrugged and added, “Even if we do charge you with anything, you can be
bailed out and sleep in your own bed tonight. How’s that?”
When Daria just stared silently at the mirror,
Cartwright added, “It’s not like you have anything to hide, is it?”
“I want a lawyer,” said Daria,
shaking still but calming down as her resolve strengthened.
“Okay, kid,” said Cartwright. “We’ll do this the hard way
if you insist. It’s a hard row. You don’t want to know about the kind of places
you’ll be sent to for holding if you insist on this.”
“We got 48 hours before we have to let you go, assuming we
don’t charge you with a crime,” smiled Warner, making it clear that she was
going to be charged. Daria had no idea how much time
had already passed, or when the counting officially began.
“You sure?” asked Cartwright, looking at Daria with concern.
Daria, firmly resolved, just stared silently into the mirror.
“Okay, then. Just so you know, Daria,”
said Cartwright, “You’re being charged with first degree murder, conspiracy to
commit murder, illegal possession of a firearm, and bringing a weapon onto
school grounds. The DA and the city attorney are looking into other charges at
this time, and there’s an on-going investigation that may bring up more
charges. The BATF have also been notified, and they will be issuing gun-related
charges. Now we’ll get you your lawyer.”
Warner looked at Cartwright. “What about the other one?”
“Jane?” asked Cartwright. “She’ll get her immunity in
exchange for testifying against Daria.”
“No,” said Warner, “Right now? Nearly everyone has gone
home for the day. We’re about all that’s left. I personally don’t feel like
baby sitting.”
Cartwright shrugged. “Have Sergeant Lanny
bring Jane in here so they’re in one place. She can watch both of them.”
“Bullshit!” exclaimed Warner. “She’s working dispatch, and
you know how she just watches TV when we’re not here. You know how she is.”
“What I know,” said Cartwright meaningfully, “is that I’m
hungry. I want something to eat. THEN we can do the paperwork and go home.
They’ll be okay for an hour or so.”
“The cuffs stay on,” said Warner. “I’m not gonna have my star witness killed by this sociopath.”
“Fine,” said Cartwright, “the cuffs stay on. But let’s go
out and get something. I want to show you a new Chinese place.....”
The two left, Warner glaring at her all the way out the
door. A little later, Sergeant Lanny brought a
handcuffed Jane in.
“Daria!” said Jane loudly. Daria looked at her and shook her head slightly.
Sergeant Lanny left saying,
“Keep it quiet in here you two,” and Daria and Jane
were alone.
“Daria,” said Jane softly, “I’m
so sorry this happened....”
“It’s not your fault, Jane,” interrupted Daria quickly, “you didn’t even know I had gotten a gun to
defend myself.”
Jane blinked at her. Of course she knew! “But Daria....” Jane had walked to the chair Warner had sat in.
She scooted it around the table by pushing at it with her foot.
“Jane, it’s just like at the Mall of the Millennium, when
I told you never to trust people while the light is on them, but wait until the
lights go off.”
Jane blinked again, finally getting the chair near Daria, and leaning back into it a little as she tried to
figure out where THAT had come from. Then she glanced at the mirror and then
back at Daria. Daria nodded
slightly. “Those bastards,” Jane muttered almost inaudibly. “Can you at least
tell me what happened?” asked Jane in a more normal sounding voice.
“Matthew threatened me and Quinn. You know that. What you
didn’t know is I took steps to make sure I’d be ready if he tried to carry out
his threats. Especially when I found out Mom filed a restraining order against
him. Psychos like Matthew, they sometimes blow up when
you do that, even carrying out their death threats. So I was ready.” Daria looked at Jane meaningfully, and her voice shook a
little. “I’m sorry, Jane, I don’t know why they brought you in, too. I told
them that, but I don’t know if they believed
“Hey,” said Jane, surprising Daria
in the bright tone it was given in, “Maybe your mom can sue for wrongful
arrest?” Jane smiled. “She can get them back for busting you, and my family can
use the money!” Her smile broadened. “I’ll even chip in for your defense fund!
I’ll put up a Free Daria web site!”
Daria smiled at her and then began crying softly again. Jane scooted
over next to Daria and brushed her arm against Daria’s. “Hey,” she said softly, “we’re still amigas.”
Daria smiled at her with a little humor. “Even
though you’re being released for testifying against me?”
Jane’s eyes widened. “Huh? Oh, they told me that you said
I had forced you into it. I just didn’t say anything after that. Warner’s the
kind that makes me realize how ‘dick’ and ‘detective’ come to mean the same
thing.”
Daria smiled and resisted the temptation to look at the mirror. Jane
scooted closer, and whispered into Daria’s
ear, “Wanna put on an x-rated show and see how fast
they get back in here?”
Daria actually laughed at that, just a little. “What makes you think
they wouldn’t just eat popcorn instead?”
Jane laughed back.
Daria tapped Jane’s ankle with her foot. When Jane looked at her, Daria softly said, “Let’s make a deal. You don’t believe
anyone who says I already betrayed you, and I won’t believe anyone who says you
already betrayed me. No matter what, we will only believe it when we see each
other and confirm it.”
Jane shrugged. “That was already my policy, amiga.”
Daria sighed in relief, and then looked at mirror thoughtfully.
“Something troubles me about all this.”
Jane’s eyes went wide and she whistled. “ONLY one thing
troubles you? God, Daria, I wish I had your tolerance
for humiliation and intimidation.”
Daria ignored her. “One said the Sloanes
might get me a lawyer. Where did that come from?”
Jane shrugged. “No one said that to me. Would
be kinda cool if they’d chip in for our defense fund,
though. I think I’ll ask them about it. I’m sure Tom will donate some of
his allowance anyway.”
“Maybe they can get me sent to one of the GOOD prisons,” Daria darkly mused.
And then they talked of everyday things and pointedly
staying away from the topic of Matthew Foster and the hell he had visited on
them all. Daria guessed it was two hours later when
Sergeant Lanny came and took Jane away again. Jane gave
Daria an encouraging smile as she left, even if it
disappeared to reveal fear when Jane was back out in the hall being carried
back to her detention cell.
Shortly after, Sergeant Lanny
came back in and put her in a cell with a woman with bleached hair who looked a
bit older than Daria, though almost as thin and only
a little fuller. She was laying on a bunk and looked
up curiously when Daria was put in. The entire cell
was sparsely furnished and couldn’t have been much more than 6’ by 6’ by 6’.
The cuffs were finally taken off. Incredible relief
flooded her as she rubbed her wrists, which had a red indention where the cuffs
had been. She offered no resistance when she was gently pushed inside. “Later,”
said Sergeant Lanny as she left. Daria
just walked over and collapsed on the bunk. The blanket was coarse, but it beat
being handcuffed in a chair.
“Hey,” said the woman. “What they get you for?”
Daria turned her head to look at her. The woman didn’t seem hostile,
just curious. She was at least in her 20’s. “Espionage,” she said. “You?”
“Mmmm...” she said. “Just a little crank. I’ve mostly just slept since they put
me here, but I finally got bored with that. You ever do any crank?”
“I haven’t,” said Daria. “But I
plan to sleep until my mom gets me out.”
“Mom?” She looked at her. “Just how old are you?”
“18,” said Daria. “You?”
“25,” she said. “Wow, I can’t believe they put you here
back with me! But I know it wasn’t for esp-ee-yanage
or spying. Come on! What was it? Crank? Although you look more like a mary jane
type. Is that it?”
Daria shook her head, still lying down completely.
“Fine! Don’t tell me.” She put herself back on her bunk.
Daria sighed. Why couldn’t she be put in solitary?
“Hey,” said her cell mate. When Daria
glanced at her again, she said, “I’m sorry about that. You look really tired.
But I’m really bored. I’d love it if you talk to me,
fill in the endless boredom here. I can use a friend, and I bet you can, too.”
Daria smiled slightly at her. “Let me sleep, okay? Then we’ll talk.”
“Okay.” She didn’t seem happy with this, but she accepted
it.
Daria was just starting to drift off when someone opened a small
shaft on the door. Daria looked and saw her cell mate
grab a tray. She brought it over to Daria. “Since
you’re tired and all, I thought I’d get it for you,” said her cell mate. Then
she got her own tray and started eating.
Daria sighed and at up. Oh, she could not believe this. Lasagna. And with her own new toothbrush, she wryly noted.
She sat down and ate, for she was hungry.
“I’m Beth,” said her cell mate. “You?”
“Daria.” That was just reflex.
“Hey, you’re not that kid that shot up her school are you!?”
Daria snorted a bit and took another bite. “Of course not,” she said,
her usual tone creeping back into her voice. “I wouldn’t kill them anywhere
near that quickly.” Then she frowned. Now she felt guilty for the people who
had been shot. Even for Ms. Li.
When Beth kept looking at her, Daria
sighed and said, “A guy dating my sister threatened to kill me, along with my
sister. So I prepared, and shot him as he was shooting at my sister.”
“Wow,” she said. “And they arrested YOU? That just
figures. Creeps.” She looked to the door and yelled,
“You’re a bunch of assholes!” Beth turned back to Daria.
“Sorry, I just had to say that to them. It’s not like they would’ve done much
about that guy threatening you. But you, oh, they’ll throw the book at. I hate
this place.”
“It’s better than cheerleading practice,” muttered Daria.
“You’re a cheerleader?” asked Beth in a tone that said she
never would’ve guessed that.
“No,” said Daria taking another
bite, “we just have to pretend we are in gym class.”
“That sucks,” said Beth. “Where did you get the gun
anyway? I thought they were hard to come by around here.”
Daria blinked at her. “The less you know, the better,” said Daria.
Daria finished, hardly saying anything to Beth. She looked at her
toothbrush and decided only if it became absolutely necessary. Shortly after,
the orderly or whatever came back and took the trays. Daria
went and collapsed on the bunk.
“Hey,” said Beth, “don’t conk out on me yet! I want to
hear all about what happened! Come on, they don’t even let me have a TV in this
place! It’s absolutely un-fuggen-civilized around
here!”
“The less you know, the better,” Daria
repeated. She finally promised to say more after she got some sleep. Beth was
obviously disappointed and whined awhile before she gave up and let Daria sleep in peace.
5.
------------------------------------
03/15/01, 9:52 A.M., Thursday
--------------------------------------
Marguerite Kramer, the DA, sighed as a frantic Helen Morgendorffer pleaded with her. She was sympathetic, and
even if she wasn't, she didn’t think she would dare prosecute this case.
Prosecute a girl that saved her own sister’s life, after the system failed to
stop the attacker? Her political enemies would trash her image, and her own
standing in several feminist organizations could be hurt.
Some of her other associations, such as the Virginia Association
of Black Lawyers, would probably see Matthew Foster as a racist that included
violent hate crimes along with his attack against Quinn Morgendorffer,
or would assume Matthew was typical of Lawndale. Most would be of the former,
and would probably see Daria as stopping him from
killing more minorities.
She had already received a call from both of the Landons asking her not to prosecute Daria--and
their own daughter, Jodie Landon, had nearly been shot by that maniac, too,
which inclined them to be very sympathetic to Daria.
And, she cynically noted to herself, the Landons
actually support her with money and volunteer campaigning for her, despite some
of the political differences they had. It would be good not to turn them
against her.
Not only that, but Helen Morgendorffer
was her friend. When younger, both had been idealists, ultrasensitive
to the injustices of the world. Both had become lawyers to fight for those who
were chewed up mercilessly by the system, and to make it work for the People instead
of the Man.
They had both become sidetracked when they encountered
many harsh realities. Disillusionment, making compromises, and financial
limitations and obligations had made them both switch their focus slightly. But
they still (sometimes) remembered why they had gotten into law in the first
place, and contributed what time and resources they had to groups they believed
were slowly helping the world become a better place.
Ironically, that included some gun control laws that Daria was now likely to be charged under. What they did to
help these laws come about was nothing major, but the laws passed by the
collective effort of many like-minded citizens were now going to crush Daria, after proving themselves useless in saving Quinn’s
life. Did gun control save Quinn from Matthew? Oh, no. It was another gun. This
grated on her more than she cared to admit. It had to bother Helen, too.
Finally, she was the one that had made sure the
restraining order against Matthew Foster went into effect immediately for
Helen’s ease of mind. And then Matthew did what a lot of stalkers do and tried
to kill the object of his obsession. It was only a couple of days ago that she,
the DA, sent two deputies that owed her a favor directly to Matthew Foster to
tell Matthew in no uncertain terms never to speak, communicate, approach, or
even LOOK at Quinn again. For his sake.
She remembered why as she stared down at the Polaroid and
other photos now developed of Quinn’s bruised cheek that Helen had taken
immediately upon noticing it and connecting it with Matthew.
And 23 hours ago she had learned that the school shooting
on the news had been Matthew shooting two people, attempting to murder Quinn,
but being shot to death by Daria. How could she
prosecute Daria?
But if she didn’t prosecute her friend’s daughter for
doing what all their laws and restraining orders failed to do, then her
political enemies could attack her for being too lenient on young hoodlums with
guns. The gun control groups could remove their support from her.
So be it, she decided. She had ambition from a real desire
to help
“Helen,” said Marguerite, “Calm down. I’ve already decided
not to prosecute your daughter. It sounds like she really felt she had no
choice. Maybe if I could charge her with something that I could recommend
probation, or if she were older, I’d think about it, as I think she acted too
hastily and with stupidity.” She held up her hand as Helen began to speak again,
“But in light that Quinn Morgendorffer would be dead
if she hadn’t, I will not.”
“Thank you,” said Helen sincerely.
“No thanks are required for my refusal to prosecute,” said
Marguerite, “I will not fight to make the world safe for homicidal stalkers.”
She said the last with some passion. Then she sighed again and looked down.
“But that’s not going to help much, is it?” asked Helen,
already knowing the answer.
“It will help some,” said Marguerite ,
“and I will make every resource I have access to available to you--discreetly,
of course. But there are laws and forces which I can do nothing about. If the
BATF choose to get involved, the entire circus will include the federal courts.
And whatever happens, you know this is going to be a circus, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Helen heatedly, “I’ve already dealt with far
too many clowns for my liking today. Police, news hounds, even political and
religious activists harassing me.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “What
can you tell me about the case?”
Marguerite frowned. “Are you acting as her defense
attorney?”
Helen nodded. “One of them, yes.” Knowing she would soon
see The United States vs. Daria Morgendorffer on top of everything else, she wasn’t
about to stay out of it, but neither was she going to do this alone. Criminal
law wasn’t her specialty.
“Just to be on the safe side,” said Marguerite, “I’d
appreciate if you didn’t let people know I’m giving you access to all my files
until it becomes clear that you are officially on her defense team. Any future
files will have to be officially gotten through Roger Fillman.”
“Of course,” said Helen making a face, “and thank you.”
Roger Fillman was the city attorney. Helen had known
he was going to be a problem from the beginning. Helen had been the one and
only lawyer who successfully exposed his ethics violations and habit of
falsifying evidence, causing him to be suspended for 2 years and nearly
disbarred. Luckily, Marguerite had just said she could count on the unofficial
help of her office. That was no small advantage.
Marguerite wondered if Fillman
was prosecuting this case because Daria was Helen’s
daughter. Normally, cases like this would be left to her discretion. In any
case, Fillman saw opportunity here, or he wouldn’t
involve himself.
Marguerite smiled wryly at Helen. “By the way, that was
amazing what you did to him back in the 80s. After that, a lot of lawyers were
scared of you, weren’t they?”
Helen nodded. She hadn’t thought about it much in years. Fillman had been using false evidence to frame several
small businesses into giving up, or losing everything, so that Con-Tel could
monopolize the region. Because of Helen Morgendorffer,
Con-Tel got sued out of existence, and Roger Fillman
was suspended from his legal practice. She was a different person back then.
“Actually, it had been a private investigator that proved he was falsifying
evidence. I just made it stick.”
“You showed them ethics can mean something,” returned
Marguerite. Ethics were a joke among lawyers. When given an ethics test, all
one had to say when in doubt (or say period) was, “I would not accept this case
in any circumstances.”
“Yes,” said Helen in a low voice, remembering. “It’s a big
part of why I had to go into litigation. The other lawyers pretty much shunned
me.”
Marguerite laughed lightly. “Shunned you? As I recall, no
one would give you the time of day, let alone any help you needed. You had to
leave
Of course Marguerite knew that. She was one of the few
people she stayed in contact with after she moved to
But then Helen thought of moving again because of the
rising crime. The final straw had been the BATF tearing up Daria’s
classroom and Daria witnessing the beating of her
teacher because he had advised the BATF of “due process.”
After she told Marguerite of this by phone, it wasn’t long
after that she got a call from a new law firm in
Helen spoke a little bemusedly. “Yes, and I thank you for
helping me to move back.”
“I was glad to have you back, Helen,” replied Marguerite
warmly. They both reminded each other of times long ago when they still
believed in some things passionately. Had they ever been that young, and
willing to spit in the eye of ‘The Man’? It seemed like another lifetime.
Now to make sure Helen would get the message that there is
hope here, Marguerite thought. “My own PI, Earl Gentry, is digging up dirt on
his own, too. Maybe history will repeat itself?”
“I hope so,” said Helen sincerely. Maybe this time, they
could get him disbarred! Helen raised her eyes hopefully as she asked, “Know of
any other allies that can help me against Filllman?”
“I hate to say this,” said Marguerite as she lightly
covered her mouth with her hand as if to underscore how much she hated to say
it, “but I hear the NRA is already getting ready to use this case to challenge
the Gun-Free Zones Act and the Project Safe Neighborhoods.”
“Figures,” muttered Helen. “I’ve already have two messages
and one e-mail from the Virginia Citizens Defense League offering to help Daria.”
Marguerite smiled with a sense of self-depreciating irony
as she continued. “I’ve heard this from the groups you and I are a part of, of
course, who are getting ready to fight them. Just maybe, as much as it irks the
both of us, you should enlist the NRA’s help. Their financial, legal, and
political resources are vast, and you and your daughter are going to need all
the help you can get. Especially if this goes to a federal court, which it most
likely will.”
Helen’s face hardened but she nodded. “I plan to at least
talk to them,” she said.
“Good,” she said. “I won’t be surprised if there’s a
message from them on one of your message machines or e-mail accounts by the
time you get home. But there’s a complication.”
Helen sighed, “Isn’t there always?”
“You know Roger Fillman still
feels he has a score to settle with you over your revealing to the world what a
rat he is. With him, that would be enough for him to throw the book at Daria. More than that, he has political ambitions that he
pursues with ruthlessness. You know, of course, about his involvement with the
former mayor?”
Helen nodded, stone-faced. Seems the former mayor had
indulged in hiring prostitutes with tax dollars, including one that brought her
underage daughter “to watch.” The new mayor, Marvin Grant, and her old enemy
Roger Fillman had turned him in. Marvin Grant took
his place in an emergency election promising to bring back morality and decency
to government. Later, further investigation suggested they knew to turn him in
because they had arranged for the illicit services to begin with, but Mayor
Grant had already stolen the office by then. It was just another example of why
Americans were generally disgusted with politics and ashamed of their
government.
“Well,” said Marguerite, “he seems to be after the new mayorship, now. He’s already seeing who he can get to back
him and finance his campaign for mayor if he crucifies your daughter.”
“How will that help him against Grant?” asked Helen as
calmly as she could.
Marguerite smiled cynically, but without amusement. “Seems the new mayor doesn’t want to alienate his backers among
Republicans and the NRA. He’s sticking to his crime control not gun
control slogan. And he’s either going to fight to get Daria
off... or he’s going to decide Daria’s a criminal
that took the law into her own hands. Right now, he’s waiting to see how the
political winds blow.”
“Justice means nothing to him,” said Helen. “Only
politics.”
“Of course,” replied Marguerite casually. “But one thing
in your favor is about to be released to the public.”
“Yes?” asked Helen, hopeful.
“Matthew Foster had a bag with 17 more bullets in his
jacket pocket. Not only that, but he had an entire box of ammo for his gun in
his backpack. Matthew meant to do more than shoot a couple of minorities and
kill his ex-girlfriend. Matthew was out to commit a massacre.”
“Oh,” said Helen shocked, shaking her head. Then she
brightened and felt horribly guilty for it, but also excited. “That means many
of the parents of the students of Lawndale High will see Daria
as someone who may have saved their own child!”
Marguerite nodded, but held up a hand. “Not necessarily.
You are likely to get a lot of local support, but it’s not a sure thing.”
“But if that happens, then Roger will have an uphill
battle prosecuting Daria!”
Marguerite took in a deep breath and looked directly at
Helen. “In response, Roger Fillman has contacted
several groups like Handgun Control Inc. and promised to vigorously prosecute
not only Daria, but also anyone who had a hand in
arming either her or Matthew Foster. He has already been promised support and
contributions from several gun control groups, and he’s hoping to use them to
also attack Marvin Grant’s reputation even further if he refuses to publicly
condemn Daria, and to support himself as the new
mayor come the next election.”
“Oh, god,” said Helen disgustedly. That such a foul man
might become mayor of a town she lived in.... and might do so by crucifying Daria.... she trembled with rage and hatred for Roger Fillman. The fact that Helen helped, if only a little, to
get some of the laws passed that Roger was now using with relish only deepened
her hatred for him.
“One bit of news,” continued Marguerite, “and is not clear
if it’s good or bad, is that Judge Tim Oliver will be presiding.”
Helen thought about that. Judge Oliver had ambitions, but
he was also lazy, content to just get his fingers in several dirty pies. He
also loved to pose for the media. He would do whatever would get him the most
positive press, and possibly the most money. Right now, it was too early in the
game to guess which way Judge Oliver would lean.
Helen moaned, “Is there anyone who cares about justice
over politics?”
“Another complication,” said Marguerite, as if she hadn’t
heard Helen’s comment.
“How many complications can there be?” groaned Helen
rhetorically.
“The police are being very slow to actually charge Daria with a crime. They appear as if they’re going to hold
her for the 48 hours if they can before they do anything official. I’ve already
tried to pressure them to press charges and get the process going, but they’re
stalling. And I hear Detective Dan Warner is seeking some kind of damage
control by prosecuting Daria, but I don’t know what
it is, yet. Consider that an unverified rumor that I will confirm or cancel in
a day or two.”
“If he needs to build up a good rep, how come he can’t do
it by getting people like Matthew off our streets?”
“They’re after bigger game,” said Marguerite, “and Daria has just become the biggest prize of all.”
“How far are they willing to go?” asked Helen quietly,
bracing herself.
Marguerite shrugged. “They’re not very bright or
competent, especially since the ‘average intelligence’ required for the job is
heavily enforced.”
Helen just stared. “Average intelligence?”
Marguerite shrugged again. “That means not too smart.
Because a smart officer would get bored patrolling
Helen shook her head. That help explained what had happened
a little, but not completely.
Marguerite continued, “But they do know the tricks to
cracking suspects and even getting them to confess to crimes that were never
committed in the first place. Not all of them are fully legal, but between the
fact that they’re detectives and that Roger Fillman
will vouch for them, there’s not likely to be a lot I can do about such
methods, unless they’re dumb enough to be blatant about it.”
Helen shook her head saying, “Daria
is smart. She won’t fall for that. And she can drink hot water and spit out ice
cubes.” Then Helen remembered
“I hope you’re right,” said Marguerite, “for her sake.”
“You don’t think they’d... abuse her, do you?”
“No,” said Marguerite firmly. “Not when you’re going to be
breathing down their necks over every little thing they do. And they’re not all
behind the blue shield. There are police there who are sick of what’s going on
and very willing to help me in any way to stop the abuses going on.”
Marguerite didn’t suggest the horrible possibility that
they might arrange for Daria to be put in a cell with
someone who WOULD hurt her to encourage her to “confess.” But even that was
unlikely, especially since she was already riding their back over every little
thing they did. She hoped such knowledge would dissuade them from such
barbarity.
“Marguerite?” asked Helen, “what about
Marguerite pursed her lips and went through some files.
“Oh, yes,
“That’s right,” said Helen as she wondered what the
unofficial reason for arresting Jane was, “I made Jake sell his guns some time
ago.” Then she made a face. “The dog the police ran through our house yesterday
should’ve convinced them, too.”
Marguerite blinked at that. She hadn't looked at
everything yet, but she had no reason to think she would come across anything
like that. “They used dogs in your house?”
“They said something about searching Daria’s
room for bombs and ammo. Then I caught them in Quinn’s room and all over the
house. I tried kicking them out and they threatened to arrest me for
interfering in an investigation!”
Marguerite raised her brows. “The entire
house?”
Helen’s eyes grew a bit distant. “They made a mess,
especially of Daria’s and Quinn’s room. It’s going to
take hours to get everything sorted, cleaned, and put back where it belongs. I
don’t understand why they tore up Quinn’s room! And Quinn was upset enough
before they did that.”
Marguerite shook her head. “They’re taking a big risk,”
she said visibly surprised that they went to such lengths. “When you’re ready
to sue their socks off, let me know. I’ll help”
Helen smiled warmly. “Thank you.” Then she frowned.
"Do you think they searched the Lane residence, too?"
Marguerite spoke thoughtfully. "I'm sure they did,
but I haven't come across that." She shook her head again. "This is
strange."
"Tell me about it," moaned Helen. “What can you tell
me of Daria’s gun?”
“The gun, a .32 Mark II, is unregistered. It was also
loaded with JHPs....”
“JHPs?” asked Helen.
“Jacketed Hollow Points.”
That didn’t sound good. “Are JHPs
particularly bad?”
“They’re hollow bullets that deal more soft-tissue damage
when they flatten out, which makes them more deadly. They’re also harder for
forensics to investigate, though any dedicated examiner will still find what
they’re looking for. But they’re common among hunters and police both,
partially because they’re less likely to ricochet.” She shrugged. “And they
said this is the only type of bullet that would be effective for this type of
gun. By the way, Helen, has Daria ever practiced with
any kind of firearm before, or taken a firearm training course?”
Helen shook her head. “Not to my knowledge. I can’t
imagine her leaving her room for any kind of physical activity if she can help it.”
“Then why was she such a good shot?” She pulled another
file out and opened it. “Two in the center of the back, one in
the head. The head caused more massive brain damage than would normally happened, and one of the two shots in his back pierced his
spinal cord. We say she’s been trained, and trained well, in how to use a gun
to kill.”
Helen shivered. She vaguely recalled some jokes about a
“Melody Powers,” and “working for the government.” But she shook her head again
and said, “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“That’s not the only mystery,” said Marguerite, “The gun
does not show up on NLET, and neither does the gun used by Matthew Foster,
though no one has given up trying to trace the two guns.....”
Helen interrupted with, “NLET?” .
“National Law Enforcement
Telecommunications System.” When Helen
nodded, she continued. “Even more interesting is that Daria’s
gun has been heavily coated with teflon
which makes getting any fingerprints impossible for all practical purposes.
Forensics claims the teflon
was added in specifically for that purpose. The only prints they can identify
are Daria’s most recent ones.”
“But Matthew’s gun wasn’t coated with this teflon?”
Marguerite shook her head. “No. Matthew didn’t seem to
take all that good care of his gun. Daria, on the
other hand, looks to have treated her gun with a lot of TLC.”
Helen swallowed. “So you have no idea where it came from?”
“I would guess it was sold to a hobbyist in one of the
loopholes used by gun enthusiasts. That hobbyist may even be Daria. Even if this is the case, it should’ve cost her no
less than $250, given its condition, and that doesn’t count the teflon job or the hollow points
she had, or the bullets she used in learning to use her gun. Did Daria have that kind of cash on her? Has she asked for a
lot of money, or for a lot of little bits of cash over and over again?”
Helen shook her head, but remembered all the times Daria made Helen bribe her. She thought Daria
did that to other people, too. It wasn’t impossible for her to raise the money,
but why would she buy a gun?
Marguerite continued. “It’s a wild card, so to speak, but
no one seriously believes the gun belongs to you or Jake. Personally, I’d guess
Daria got it at a gun show. Here in
“Damnation,” moaned Helen. This was another example of why
she pushed for greater gun control.
“Even felons not allowed firearms can usually get one
there. So Daria shouldn’t have a problem, if she had
the money. An officer discreetly told me that some strongly suspect
Helen sensed that Marguerite wasn’t telling all. “So we
have the excuse on why they’re holding Jane, but what is their real reason? Is
she a dangerous liability to us?”
Marguerite looked sadly at Helen. “They’re pressuring her
to testify against Daria or to confess to getting the
gun for Daria. If she cracks, she’s a liability to Daria and to herself. If she doesn’t, they will likely let
her go, but only so they can see where she goes and who she talks
to.”
“They think Jane would lead them to the source of the
gun?”
“Maybe,” said Marguerite with an unreadable expression.
“There’s also the possibility she’ll talk. That’s how most cases are cracked,
you know. People can’t keep their mouth shut, and kids are especially bad about
it. Especially if they feel they got away with something.”
“Marguerite, please!” pleaded Helen, “what are you not
telling me?”
Marguerite grimaced and cleared her throat. “I am about to
tell you something that you would be very ill-advised to repeat outside this
office.”
Helen drew in breath and braced herself. “Go on.”
Marguerite added, “In fact, should you find evidence of
anything I’m about to share with you, it would be wise if you thought twice
before bringing it to me or even letting me know such evidence exists.”
“That bad?” Helen was getting scared.
Marguerite nodded her head. “Matthew Foster was known to
vice cops as a petty drug dealer.”
“No,” said Helen disbelieving, “he’s a clean cut boy....”
She trailed off.
“A clean cut boy with a nice car and money to take Quinn
to Chez Pierre,” said Marguerite, “from a low income, single parent family on welfare.
A clean cut boy who would never try to kill your daughter.”
“That bastard,” whispered Helen in moment of fury and
panic. Then she remembered something. “Just last month, on the Saturday after
Valentine’s Day, Quinn, the Fashion Club she’s with, and some other boys went
to a family cabin belonging to Matthew’s family. What about that?”
“We’re looking into that as we speak. You see, Helen, we
can’t find out where Matthew got his gun, either, and we believe it belongs to
his father, just as that cabin does.”
“But you’re not sure.”
“No,” she said. “Matthew’s father is barred from having
guns as part of the restraining order barring him from contacting Matthew’s
mother.”
Helen leaned back in her chair. This just got better and
better. “What else?”
Marguerite smiled grimly. “He filed a restraining order
back at her with the same condition added in. So technically, she’s not allowed
guns either. As they both have a history of substance abuse, trouble with the
law, mental illness, and domestic violence by both against each other, neither
had any trouble in getting the restraining order extended to a few years. But
they seem to have done it more out of spite than actual fear.”
She pulled out another file and opened it. “Matthew’s
mother’s house was searched and no weapons were found. The father’s house was
searched, and we found two handguns. But the lab is saying they don’t think
Matthew’s gun came from there. Matthew’s gun isn’t as well taken care of and
doesn’t have any of his father’s prints. There are also some telltale chemicals
that forensics looks at, and their examination leads them to conclude that
Matthew’s gun never belonged to Matthew’s father. A warrant is being drawn up
to search the cabin that was left to Matthew’s father two years ago when
Matthew’s grandfather died, but nobody really expects to find anything.”
“I’d like to know what you find, even if it’s nothing,”
said Helen, “since my daughter spent a day out there skiing!”
“I’ll be sure to tell you,” Marguerite replied, “but the
lab boys believe the father when he says he’s never seen the gun Matthew used
in his life. It’s just one more mystery in all this crud.”
“I hope there aren’t any more surprises,” said Helen in a
low voice.
Marguerite looked down a moment and looked back up. “Oh, I
saved the best for last.”
“Please, tell me!” Helen was getting annoyed with this
game of digging information out of her.
Marguerite cleared her throat. “Jane, Daria,
and Quinn were apparently mentioned in a report from an informant to a vice cop
as being in a drug ring with Matthew Foster. Another informant even stated that
Daria and Matthew got into a gang related dispute
that ended in gunfire at a seedy little bar known as the Zen a little over a
week ago.”
Helen’s leaned forward, her eyes wide in shock and anger.
“That’s impossible!”
“Is it?” asked Marguerite calmly.
“That’s just so.... it’s impossible,” said Helen shaking
her head. “Until recently, Daria and Quinn almost
never got along together. I mean I’m as shocked as I am grateful that Daria did what she did to save Quinn.”
“The detectives don’t believe Daria
shot Matthew to save Quinn,” said Marguerite carefully. “They suspect Daria shot Matthew because he was about to be busted and
reveal names, including her’s and Quinn’s. It’s even
been suggested that Daria meant for Quinn to die
first. They also claim that Quinn hid the drugs that police knew Matthew had
purchased, but it wasn’t until last Monday that the police even knew about his
relation with Quinn.”
“NO!” shouted Helen standing up. “That’s just so warped!
Those cops are crazy! It’s nothing like that at all!” She took a breath and sat
back down. “I’m sorry for that outburst. It’s just that it’s so crazy. You
don’t believe any of that, do you?”
“I think the detectives are incompetent, especially if
what they said is true about not knowing of the relationship between Matthew
and Quinn until last Monday, and Roger Fillman is
desperate to do anything to win this case,” said Marguerite carefully, “but I’m
also convinced that there is more going on here than we realize. If Daria is as smart and cool under fire as you say, why did
she bring a gun to school? And where did she get it? And what about the teflon?”
Helen had no response to that. Finally she took in a
breath. “It turned out she needed it.”
“What she needed was to get Matthew out of the way, one
way or another. For one reason or another.” When Helen
gave Marguerite a hurt look, she shook her head. “I’m on your side Helen. But I
feel there is something more to this story than you or I know about. Roger Fillman and the Lawndale PD fully believe this to be so and
are very anxious to get to the bottom of it. And that’s why Jane will likely be
released without charges if she can’t be used to harm Daria
directly. To see if she can be made to harm Daria in
another way.”
“Impossible,” Helen repeated.
“If Daria were a drug dealer,”
said Marguerite slowly, “it would explain how she got the money to get a gun,
and why she carried it around and learned to use it.”
Helen pushed her rising fury away at what Marguerite was
saying. “Is there ANY evidence to any of these claims besides the
unsubstantiated claims of an informant, whom I assume to be a drug user
himself, that this suspected involvement took place?”
Marguerite put her hands together for a moment and spoke
very clearly. “No, there is not. And your assumption about
the informant being a drug user and insinuating the informant to be unreliable
are both correct. Investigation at the Zen has so far turned up nothing,
and not a single bullet hole was found, thus discrediting the allegations of
any shoot-out. Everyone the police talked to claimed that such a story was
ridiculous, but they’re only getting warmed up. Still, the informant swears
it’s true and seems to believe it."
Then she knocked her half-folded fingers against her desk
as she said, “However, if Jane Lane is released, she will be closely watched,
tailed, and monitored to see if any such connection between Matthew Foster’s
drug dealing can be made to her.”
“Then it’s Jane’s problem more than Daria’s,
right?” Helen asked desperately. “She won’t turn on Daria.
I know it.”
“Helen,” said Marguerite in her tone of voice that said
this was very important, “if they succeed at this they have an automatic connection
to Daria Morgendorffer via
“I better warn Jane,” said Helen more to herself than to
Marguerite. And I better represent her along with Daria,
she thought to herself.
“You do that,” said Marguerite, “but make sure you sound
like a concerned mother asking about her daughter than a conspirator in a
crime. You know Roger Fillman would love to implicate
you, too, if he thought he possibly could.”
“Don’t I know it,” gritted Helen.
“Right now, Jane is the one who will need to exercise the
most caution. If they can, they will do just about anything to extort her to
turn against Daria.”
“They’d destroy Jane just to get Daria?”
Marguerite gave Helen a look of disbelief, saying, “You
have to ask?”
Helen took a deep breath. “I’ve had experiences from my
own college days with the fuzz, and I know there are a lot of nasty secrets
below the mirage of respectability. So I can accept everything you’re telling
me with very little difficulty, and know that sometimes it gets even worse.”
Then Helen shook her head to emphasize her next statement. “But the police even
thinking that Daria, Quinn, and Jane in a drug ring
with Matthew! That is just too unbelievable. Even the police have to know
that!”
“And it may be nothing more than smoke and mirrors,” said
Marguerite relaxing her voice, “but Helen, you know what this could do to your
daughter’s case if any such connection is proven.” Marguerite spoke then with
emphasis. “Talk to your daughter and find out if there’s any truth to these
allegations at all. And do it soon in case the police decide to ask Quinn about
it first.”
Helen nodded in stunned disbelief. “I will.”
“In any case,” said Marguerite businesslike, “find out
where Daria acquired the gun. I think that’s the key
to this whole mystery. You can count on Roger Fillman
to hammer away at this until he finds out the truth for himself. I expect he
will find out. And when he does, Helen, you better be ready for him.”
Helen fought tears as she rubbed her temples, muttering,
“I don’t know who I hate more, Roger Fillman or Matthew
Foster.”
“You’d hate Matthew Foster more if he had killed Quinn.
Which would you rather do, Helen? Try to save Daria
from being crucified for saving your other daughter, or trying to crucify
Foster for the murder of Quinn Morgendorffer?”
Helen choked once in a stunted sob and then regained
control of herself. She wiped a single tear away as
she pulled herself out of her sudden bout of self-pity. “I feel like my entire
world is crumbling around me, Marguerite, and I’m just now coming to realize just
how little I know about my own children.” She shook her head, taking a deep
breath, and composed herself. “Thank you for your help,” she said quietly as
she got up. “I should be getting back to Quinn.”
“Of course,” replied Marguerite, also getting up and
walking over to Helen and touching her hand. “And I’m looking into some sources
that Roger Fillman won’t expect. I hope I find
something I can give you to use against him,” she said with sincerity, “because
not only will it help my career if he’s out of my way, but I hate that bastard,
too.”
“Thank you,” said Helen, giving Marguerite a brief hug,
“for everything.”
Marguerite squeezed Helen’s arm. “Just be glad you still
have Quinn to go back to, Helen Morgendorffer.”
6.
----------------------------------------
03/15/01, 12:23 P.M., Thursday
----------------------------------------
As she had done for breakfast, Beth woke Daria up for lunch. Daria groaned
some and then reached for where she had put her glasses. She was glad they let
her keep them as she was practically blind without them. When she looked up
with her glasses on, she saw Beth standing in front of her holding her tray out
to her.
Daria mumbled her thanks and started eating without much thought. She
didn’t think she would go back to sleep right after the way she had done after
breakfast. She wondered how much longer they were going to keep her here.
Didn’t they have bigger pens somewhere with TV or something? She was going to miss Sick, Sad World.
“You were thrashing around in your sleep,” said Beth.
“Huh?” asked Daria brightly.
Then she understood and just said, “Oh.”
“What were you dreaming about?”
Daria tried to recall. She couldn’t really remember. Quinn was in it,
and Jane. No Matthew or cops or jail or anything like that. In what little of
her dream she could recall, she did not think of where she now was or what had
just happened.
“I don’t remember enough,” said Daria.
“I bet you were dreaming about shooting up your school,”
said Beth.
“Maybe,” Daria replied.
“It’s so boring without a TV,” Beth said.
Daria grunted her sympathy.
“Hey, is there a place still called the Zen?”
Daria nodded.
“Oh, you’ve been there! I haven’t been there in awhile.
What’s going on there now?”
“Same ol’ stuff as always. Bands
play, people get intoxicated and leave together to make decisions they’ll
regret the rest of the lives, and everything else that people do in any place
they go to.”
“I hear that place has gotten kinda
rough lately. Is it?”
Daria shook her head. “Not really.”
“A lot of hot merchandise gets moved at places like that.
Well, not a lot, not in
Daria stared at her deadpan. </