The Executioner's Song (82 page)

“What is the third thing?” asked Vem.

Gary’s days in the shoe shop and said wistfully, “He was a good hard worker, but I never knew how to get the best out of him,” Schiller was cheered. It would make for a better story if Gilmore was not just some clever con who used and abused everyone. Then about the time he realized that Vem had his own sense of humor, Schiller got even happier. He had to obtain this story. That was fundamental. He wanted this story from his spinal cord out. But that he might even like it was a most agreeable bonus. Every minute he sat with Vem, he could feel Boaz losing the marbles. “If I were you,” said Schiller in conclusion, “I’d get a lawyer. In fact,” he said, “I don’t want to make this offer in formal terms until you have a lawyer. Then I will lay it out with him. If you take my advice, you will pay the man by the hour. I’ve seen,” said Schiller, “where lawyers get all the money in these things.”

On the way out, Schiller left his number. He did not say that it was only a phone booth in Walgreen’s Drugstore at the main intersection of Provo, and that the girl behind the soda fountain was his local secretary pro term. He had made an arrangement with her to take his messages. He could, of course, have used his number at the Hilton in Salt Lake, but such messages were left in your box and you never knew which of a hundred reporters might rip it off. He could have had people contact him through his secretary in Los Angeles, but that meant they’d have to tackle long distance. Using Walgreen’s made it easy for local people to reach him with a local call. Some of these were simple folk who might hesitate to go through the complications of area codes, operators and calling collect.

“The third,” said Larry Schiller, “is whether you are really going to allow 5o percent of this money to go to a stranger. Blood, I should think,” he said, “is thicker than water. I don’t know how Gary is thinking of providing for his mother, but if half of this money is to go to Boaz, then Gary’s mother will be getting a percentage that is half the amount she’s entitled to. Besides, I think there should be money to provide for the families of the victims.”

All the while Schiller had been talking to Vern Damico, he had been changing his impression of Gary Gilmore. It was as if he had been given another look at the fellow. As Vern started reflecting on

DESERET NEWS

Nov. I8-Gary Mark Gilmore, having recovered from his suicide attempt, was returned to the Utah State Prison today to await the outcome of his plea for death ….

More than 3 dozen reporters and a dozen hospit31 workers were on hand to watch the handcuffed man with tousled hair get out of the wheel chair and into the brown prison car.

Gilmore, looking weak with an ashen face, scowled

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at his audience as he got into the vehicle’s back seat.

He made an obscene gesture at the reporters.

A protective motorcade of 3 prison cars and 2 law enforcement vehicles escorted Gilmore back to the Utala State Prison in Draper.

There, the amval was greeted with cheers and whistles from other inmates behind the prison walls. Gilmore was taken directly to the prison infirmary where he will be watched constantly.

Schiller was present when they moved Gary. After the motorcade drove away, reporters rushed to their cars and chased them down the highway to prison. Schiller didn’t follow. There would be very little at the other end, and he had gotten what he wanted.

He had seen Gilmore face to face. of course, at a distance of twenty feet, but close enough to increase his interest. Seen in news flashes on television, Gary did not look like a killer, but coming out of the hospital this morning, sunken and gaunt in his wheelchair, his face had been full of hate. It was the livid, vindictive look of a cripple who could kill you for sheer outrage at how life had ruined his chances. In fact, as Gilmore got into the car, he turned around, looked out the window and gave a wide thin-lipped grin at the press, a mean and merciless look, and raised his middle finger slowly in the air as if to implant it forever in each witness’s ass. Schiller said to himself, That man could stick his knife in you and keep a smile while doing it.

Now that Gary was back in prison, Cline Campbell visited him in the infirmary and found him sitting on the floor, going through mail.

Said in greeting “Help me,” and tossed over some letters. He was sitting cross-legged with his white prison clothes on, and as soon as he could, Campbell remarked, ,’In a way, I’m sorry it didn’t work, because it would end this great trial for you. But I’m glad you’re here.” Gilmore said, “I’ll do it sooner or later.”

Campbell answered, “Yes, I know you’re serious. Still, it’s better not to kill yourself.”

“Why?” asked Gilmore.

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“Because,” said Campbell, “you can test the law. If you kill yourself, nothing’s been solved. Force them to the issue.”

“The law means nothing to me, Preach.”

“Well, then,” said Campbell, “there’s two families in Provo that are not taken care of, and if you do it right you’re going to have enough money to make some contribution to the children.”

Gilmore nodded. Campbell couldn’t tell whether he agreed for Gary changed the subject. “Hey,” he said, “if there is a God, and I believe there is, I’m going to have to face Him.” He nodded again. “I know this creation we live in doesn’t end up for nothing. There’s got to be something over there.” Then he added, “I’ll come back on a higher plane.”

Campbell said, “What if you come back as a prison guard?” Gilmore said, “Oh, you dirty son of a bitch.”

They began to laugh. In the middle of it, Campbell thought, “I laugh more with this guy than anybody.”

The prison had been in touch with Earl constantly about who passed the drugs to Gary. Their present belief was it pretty much had to be Nicole Barrett. For that reason they were going to let the matter lie. Hard to prosecute a girl who had almost died herself and would probably be sent to a mental hospital. On the other hand, since the prison had no concrete information, there was no particular reason to terminate the inquiry. So long as they could keep it open, they could also keep the pressure on Boaz, and isolate Gilmore from visits with physical contact.

Nicole felt as if she were completely surrounded by beautiful soft darkness. Didn’t even know she had a body. Everything was blackness. Then a hole came in, a little hole. She tried to close it, but the hole kept opening. It was whiter than white. Now she could see doctors’ faces with the little mirrors they had over their foreheads. As if she were in a dream, she kept fighting to close that fucking hole.

Kathryne and Rikki had gone out to get something to eat, and Sue Baker was drowsing in the waiting room of Intensive Care, when

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she heard Nicole screaming, “I don’t want to be here. I’m not supposed to be here.”

want to live,” said Nicole. “Listen, baby,” said Kathryne, “God has too much left for you to do before you can go.” Nicole just laughed, and then she began to cry, and she said, “Oh, Mama.”

The door swung open and an intern shouted down the hall. Nurses and doctors were going back and forth from Nicole’s room for maybe an hour and Sue felt like she was listening outside a delivery room for a baby’s first cry.

Then she could hear Nicole shout, “Fuck you, I want my cigarettes.” It was a lot of babble. She heard the intern trying to talk to Nicole, but he finally came out, and said to Sue, “See if you can do something.”

Gibbs received a letter from the Salt Lake detective who was in charge of his case. When he opened the envelope, there was nothing inside but a newspaper cartoon of a man lying in a hospital bed. The nurse was saying, “Mr. Gilmore, wake up. It’s time for your shot.” At the foot of the hospital bed was a five-man firing squad.

Nicole said to her, “I’m supposed to be dead, I’m not supposed to be here.” Before Sue could even grab her hand the intern was back with help, and they were ushering Sue out.

By the time she got in again, they must have told Nicole that Gary was alive. She was in a different mood. Said to Sue, “Let’s talk about happier things.” “Right,” said Sue. Now Nicole wanted to walk, and the intern agreed. So Sue paraded her up and down the halls. Nicole was wobbly and her legs acted so tired she could hardly make it, but she said, “Doesn’t this remind you of the night I was drunk, Sue?” They thought back to that couple of nights when they were beth drinking, and Sue felt beautiful that Nicole was up and talking and said, “Listen, lady, how could you do this? I need you too much, you know.”

Nicole said, “I need you, too, but I wanted to be with Gary.” Sue said, “Well, you’re here now. You’re not getting away again.” Nicole sighed. “Aw, I’m not,” she said. Then she walked a little and kind of winked, and said, “I’ll try again if I have to.”

By the time her mother got back to the hospital, Nicole was asleep once more. The next time she opened her eyes, however, Kathryne was there, and Nicole said, “I didn’t give him enough. I knew I didn’t give him enough.” “He’s just fine, Sissy,” said Kathryne. Nicole started to pound the covers. “I knew it wasn’t enough for such a big man. Why didn’t I think?”

“Look, Sissy,” said Kathryne, “if God wanted you, you’d be gone. You know, it just isn’t your time. He doesn’t want you yet.” “I don’t

Knowing Gary’s sense of humor, Gibbs decided to send the cartoon. Just then, the radio announced: “Dr. L. Grant Christensen said Gilmore can leave the hospital and return to Death Row if he continues to improve.”

Gibbs laughed so hard he almost emptied his works. It sure made him wish Gary was right there laughing with him.

In the prison infirmary, Vern and Gary talked through a telephone and sat on opposite sides of a plateglass window. It was unusual speaking to a man that way, but with Vern’s bad leg, it beat walking all the way out to Maximum Security.

Straight out, Gary said, “Vern, would you take care of things if I discharge Boaz?”

Vern said, “I’m a shoemaker. I don’t know as I can do it. I’m not an attorney.”

Gary said, “With your business ability and my brains” — he gave a big smile as he said this —”we can do it.”

That was all they said about it. As Veto was getting ready to go, Gary said, “Know how to shake hands through the glass?” and put his open palm on the window. Vem touched the other side with his palm, and they wiggled fingers back and forth. A prison handshake.

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Brenda was also there for that visit, and it was emotional for her. Gary was looking weak, she thought, like a lot of the fight was out. Brenda, however, decided to sail right in, so she said over the phone

“Gary, you old shithead. Looks like you pulled through.” “You haven’t changed any,” he said. Brenda asked, “Still mad at me?”

“Well, I don’t like what you did,” he said. Brenda replied, “I don’t give a damn. I did what I had to do. I suppose you did what you had to do.” She paused for breath, and said, “I love you and I’m glad you made it.” Then she added, “Are you going to do something stupid like this again?”

“No,” Gary said, “I don’t think so. I have a hell of a headache.”

“You’re cold assed. You really are. You wanted to stay awake long enough to find out if she was really dead, then you wouldn’t

have to worry she’d take another lover.”

Gary said, “I am jealous.”

“Don’t you know, there’s a real possibility she’ll be damaged in her brain?”

“Impossible. I don’t even think of that,” he said.

“Come on, Gary, isn’t that what you wanted? If she has brain

damage, nobody else is going to want her.”

“You’re cruel,” said Gary.

“And you’re an asshole,” said Brenda. At that point, she knew she’d gone too far.

Gary said, “You have a vile and dirty mouth.”

There was a guard standing by, and he was having a conniption. After Brenda gave the phone back to her father, the guard walked up and said, “I wouldn’t dare call him any of the names you did. He’s mean. He’ll kill you soon as look at you. I’d be scared to death to talk to him like that.”

“God,” Brenda said, “he can’t hurt you. Look at him. Locked behind a door and in a weakened state. He couldn’t hurt a pussycat.”

The guard said, “Well, I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Back at the window, Brenda couldn’t stop herself. The guard might just as well have egged her on. “Hey, Gary,” she said, “how come you didn’t take enough to do the job?”

“What makes you think I didn’t?” said Gary.

“If you had,” said Brenda, “you’d have been dead.”

“What in the hell are you trying to do? You know I really meant to do it.”

Brenda said, “You know more about drugs than that. I think you knew just what you were doing.”

Gary started to tuck his lip in. Finally, he kind of snickered, and said, “Well, I might know one of my cousins would pick up on that.”

Yet, in the way he said it, she was confused. He was perfectly capable of letting her think she was right when she was wrong. Gary liked to toy with her head.

It made Brenda mad. She said, “I think you’re being a selfish lover. What about those two little kids?”

“Oh,” said Gary, “somebody would have taken care of them.”

They started to stare at each other, and it got to be quite a contest. Even across the hallway, ten feet wide, through two panes of glass, Brenda could feel the heat coming out of his eyes, and she thought to herself, I’m not going to let him outstare me this time, not when he’s half dead and there’s all this protection between us. But, it went on so long, she finally remembered his favorite saying and quoted it to him on the phone: “An honest man will look you in the eye, but the soul of a man will try to convince you of his lie.” At that point, Gary began to laugh, and said, “God, Brenda, you sure are a mess.”