Ty & Cinda, A Tale of Forbidden Love - S01 E35

2 weeks ago

Ty & Cinda, A Tale of Forbidden Love - S01 E35

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 35

The police left around nine after taking samples of the blood for typing and DNA and dusting the walls and door for fingerprints. "We'll check for prints, but contrary to what you see on TV I doubt we'll be able to identify him from them. They're only useful if the guy is either in the system or we arrest and print him." The house was a mess when they left. I put Cinda to bed then returned to help Monroe and Juanita as they cleaned up the hallway. The doorbell rang about a half hour later, it was the press. I gave a brief interview, telling them only the bare basics of what Cinda had told the police. I went to bed just after eleven to find Cinda lying there still crying and gasping for breath. I took her head to my shoulder as we tried to sleep. It was hours before we found it.

Monroe and I were in the student union the following afternoon while Juanita stayed with Cinda. It was an unseasonably warm day with temperatures in the high eighties. Everyone in the dining area was in shorts and short-sleeved shirts-everyone except one black guy who wore long jeans and a long sleeved polo. We stood behind him-about fifty feet away at the drink machines contemplating our next move-how to get our revenge-when I heard a low voice behind me. "That the guy?" turned to see Glenn.

"Yeah, I'm positive. He harassed my wife here yesterday afternoon. I'd like to kill him. This is Monroe, Cinda's brother."

They shook hands and Glenn spoke again, this time in a virtual whisper, "You do realize that neither of you can go anywhere near him. The cops will look at you first and they'll wring a confession out of you in less than an hour. Let's face it-you're amateurs. If you do this you'll wind up in more trouble than him. No...you need to trust me. There's no way I'll be caught and I'll take care of him good. There's no real connection between us other than we're on the team together, but so are fifteen other guys. I won't go into detail, but if not for basketball I'd probably be a career criminal. I've never been caught and I won't be caught now either. You need to leave this to me. I'll take care of it tonight. Make sure you're at home together so you have an alibi. Believe me the cops will be at your place before they go anywhere else."

"You're not going to kill him?"

"No, Ty, but I can guarantee he won't put his hands on another woman for the rest of his miserable life." He turned and walked away. I looked at Monroe, shrugged my shoulders, and we left to return to our house.

That night actually it was around three in the morning-Roland

Dupree-a dropout from LSU-heard an insistent knock at his door.

He lived in an off-campus apartment building in which the

"apartments" were basic sinale rooms with a small kitchen and

"apartments" were basic single rooms with a small kitchen and tiny bathroom. The management catered to students, but never really checked on the status of its renters. Roland found the building a good place to scout for new victims-unsuspecting women he could force his insatiable cock into. He had ignored the first few knocks, but they continued, even faster and louder. He was pissed as he opened the door, walking into a straight right that was reinforced by a band of two inch wide steel wrapped around his assailant's fist. Roland, knocked cold by the blow, fell back into the room, banging his head on the tile floor. That was the least of his problems. Glenn had followed him from the student union and, as he had promised, his shadowing had been completely unnoticed.

Closing the door, the attacker turned him over onto his chest, knelt on his neck then moved a short-handled three-pound sledge from his left hand to his right. The glove-clad left held Roland's wrist as the sledge slowly but carefully broke every bone in his right hand, the heavy hammer smashing every knuckle into bony pulp. Roland's left hand soon received the same treatment. Once he was done the attacker, who had entered the quiet apartment building completely unseen, took the homemade "brass knuckles" and the hammer, peeked out the door, and walked silently down the back stairs into the early morning. He drove his car to nearby Port Allen on the Mississippi where he threw the steel band and the sledge onto a barge that was loaded with scrap steel and was headed upriver the following morning. Scrap went up to the mills in Pittsburgh almost daily. Then he drove back to the dorm, snuck into his room, and fell quickly asleep. He had been totally undetected and revenge had been meted on the attempted rapist. It was a great night's work.

We had stayed in on Sunday morning, skipping church and planning on giving Cinda the time to regain her composure. Monroe and I were back at home from the student union when I phoned Coach Beamon; of course, he'd already heard the news on TV and read the front page of the newspaper. Home invasions weren't an everyday occurrence luckily. Even luckier, there was no mention of the attempted rape.

"Take tomorrow off, Ty. I'll square it with the Dean. Don't even worry about Tuesday's game." Damn! I'd completely forgotten about our opener. I thanked him on Cinda's behalf, ending the call when the doorbell rang. Juanita answered it and a second later Momma walked in. Cinda broke down again, crying into her mother's embrace. She stayed there for more than ten minutes before they sat and Cinda, once again, related the story from the moment she had entered the house until Fred had opened her attacker's arm and leg.

"Come here, Fred," she called, hugging and petting Cinda's protector. Everything was fine until Monroe mentioned going after "the bastard."

"I don't want to hear that, Monroe. You'll wind up in trouble-more than he'll be in when he's caught. Leave that to the police. Revenge is for fools."

"Yes, Momma-you're right, but.....

"No buts, Monroe-you may be the big football star, but can still put you across my knee if necessary." I would have laughed, but I would have been in it as deeply as Monroe if not for Glenn. I wondered if he'd really go after that asshole. More Importantly, I wondered if he would be successful. I didn't have to wait long-just over a single day.

The doorbell rang again around five Monday afternoon when I walked to the door. Fred was with me and he growled until I stopped him. "Hello, Detective-please come in. Any news yet?"

"As a matter of fact, yes-we have him in custody."

"Wow! That's fast work. May we ask how you tracked him down?"

"Actually, we responded to a 911 call from an apartment building just off campus around four this morning. We got a call that someone was screaming in one of the apartments. The responding officers found him on the floor, his hands crushed and bleeding. We identified him by the tattoo, but barely. That's how badly his hand was beaten. He also had been bitten twice in his right forearm and the back of his right calf. The DNA will cinch it. Mind telling me where you were then?"

"Not at all, but you just proved we didn't do it."

"How so?"

"He's still alive. He wouldn't be if I'd gotten my hands on him.

"Hmmm..I read the accounts of your...um, disagreement with your grandfather. I have no doubt you could do the job if you had to, but how about answering the question?"

"Monroe and I were here all night. I set the alarm when we went to bed around ten. I'm not sure, but I think the security company might have a record. It was turned off around seven when I put Fred out. I probably could have climbed out the window, but I didn't. Cinda needed me to be with her."

"Do you have one of those small sledgehammers?"

"You mean a three-pounder? Yeah, I do. I used it to drive stakes Into the garden when we were up in Indiana. I'll show it to you. It's In the garage on my workbench." I led him out the door. The sledge was right where I thought it would be. He checked it out then returned it to me. It was dirty, but there were no signs of blood or skin on it.

"I hope you didn't do anything stupid, Ty."

"No, I'll be happy to let the law do its work. I have no desire to spend my life in prison on account of a lowlife like him." sald good-bye at the door and I returned to my family.

"I'm so relieved, Ty. I can't believe that someone beat him up."

1 can. I'll bet you weren't the first he assaulted. Men like that are chronic and habitual offenders. I think he's obsessed by attractive women. Who knows? I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he actually raped some poor woman. We'll probably never know and I'll be damned if I'll shed even a single tear for him. If Detective Sommers' description was accurate I doubt he'll ever be able to try anything like that again."