Finals � � Chapter Thirty-One� For the first time all was lucid; everything was coming into focus. I now understood Vickie’s call, the old cop’s reassurance, the reaction or lack of reaction by the police officers and lastly the questions. I wasn’t the sociopath. I hadn’t planned killing Brent with my grandfather’s knife in the library bathroom. I hadn’t tricked Harvey into taking Viagra and nitroglycerin, causing his blood to pump too rapidly and his life to cease. I hadn’t met with a mentally unstable dropout and convinced him to seek revenge on a discriminatory professor. I hadn’t done any of those things. To Matthews and Dunn, I was merely a suspicious character, and possibly an accomplice to the real criminal, Father O’Connor. � Despite this realization, I had no idea why I was sitting here answering ridiculous questions when I should have been halfway to a prison by now. The priest must have confessed to the crimes or Hayley accused him and he elected not to refute her accusation. No, that didn’t make sense; Father O’Connor must have admitted he was the killer, but why�Śbecause of Finch? By taking the blame for my actions, was this his attempt at correcting the past? � I had no intention of getting caught, let alone confessing to my crimes, but with one of my closest friends on campus sliding into take my place in the electric chair, I couldn’t help but feel obligated to tell the truth. � �śHe didn’t do it.” � Grinning, somewhat demonically, Dunn grabbed a folder on O’Connor’s desk and walked over to my chair. �śOh, I’ll show you what your beloved priest did,” Dunn said, as he opened the folder. � �śYou remember your old buddy, Brent Crane,” he said, putting an 8x10 picture in front of my face. The picture was of Brent face down in a pool of blood. His blood covered the entire tile floor, with streaks near the urinal and stall where I slit his throat. � In the heat of the moment, I had never felt better. I wasn’t grossed out by the massive amounts of blood, or the fact that my friend was dying in front of my eyes. In my mind, he deserved to die. Justice had finally been served, but as I looked at this picture and the carnage I had created, I couldn’t help but feel sick to my stomach. � �śThis murder would have been perfect had it not been for the shoe print left behind. Do you see the tread mark in the bottom left corner of the picture?” � I nodded. � �śSize nine. Guess what size of shoe your priest had?” Dunn asked. � �śI don’t know,” I mumbled. � �śSize nine.” Dunn answered. � �śLots of people have size nine feet,” I said bluntly, hoping I could find a dent somewhere in Dunn’s logical conclusions.� �śYou’re right, but not many people have heart medication, orange Tic-Tacs and FIJI water in their apartment do they?” Dunn said, replacing Brent’s photo with another 8x10. Unlike Brent’s demise, I wasn’t able to see Harvey’s life slip slowly away. I imagined his death was pretty amusing; one hand down his pants while he sat moaning my name like a bitch until the lethal drug combination gave him sweet salvation. � Dunn’s photo of Harvey was anything but comical. Harvey’s face was ghostly pale with an expression on his face that was indicative of the horrendous pain he must have endured moments before his heart burst. I couldn’t help but look away. � �śSince you wrote Harvey’s obituary, I’m sure you were aware of the lethal combination of heart medicine and Viagra that killed him, but did you know your little girlfriend also found orange Tic-Tacs and FIJI water at the scene of the crime?” Dunn asked, still waving around the unsettling photo of Harvey in front of my face. � �śI didn’t, but good for her. She’s always been the Nancy Drew sort.” � �śBoth of which were found at the residence of your favorite Catholic priest along with a prescription for Nitrostat, a nitroglycerin tablet used to treat chest pain, and if taken with a drug such as Viagra, it has the capability of causing a lethal reaction. � �śAside from the pills all that other stuff can be found at the campus bookstore but I’m assuming you’re telling me this to suggest that this all can’t be a mere coincidence,” I answered. � �śThe man had the same size feet as Crane’s murder, all of the evidence in his apartment directly links him to Cho’s death, and his feud with Quinn is well-documented,” Matthews said, as he left this chair to join Dunn alongside O’Connor’s desk. � �śThe man wrote a confession note and has an open Bible on a passage that reads, �ŚBut now being made free from sin, and become servants to God, ye have your fruit unto holiness, and the end everlasting life.’ Tell me you can’t find this to be chance, son? The man was guilty, plain and simple,” Matthews said. � I sat staring at my hands, letting Captain Matthews’s words stink in. Of the three men in the room, I was the sole keeper of the truth, but here I sat learning of O’Connor’s horrendous crimes. The whole situation seemed so strange and so wrong. � Thinking back to O’Connor’s speech last night, I couldn’t help but think that this was one of those instances in life where one course of action leads to monumental changes. Most choices are ones every individual faces, what college should I attend? Is this the right job for me? Do I really want to spend the rest of my life with this woman? Can I be a good father? Often times your fate is not solely in your hands, or even in your perception. Often times the situation just happens. No recourse, no objective analysis, no real thought process. The action transpires without a second thought, and with that decision, the future is determined. I was well aware of my life-changing predicament. The police, as well as Hayley and Father O’Connor, had thrust a �śGet Out of Jail Free” card into my hand and now it was up to me to decide if I wanted to use it. I was guiltier than O.J. and yet O’Connor had in noble fashion, fallen upon the sword meant for me, as if this action could redeem his conscious for Finch’s death in Vietnam. � Regardless of the priest’s extraordinary act of self-sacrifice, I couldn’t let the man take the wrath for my misdoings. As much as I wanted to get out of this room free of handcuffs, I knew it was no longer a possibility. It was time to take responsibility for my actions. � The dark voices in my head were pleading for me to reconsider. I didn’t have to do this. I could get off scot-free and no one would know any better. Impossible feats had been achieved and evil milestones reached. I could continue my reign of terror; even become the sociopath of century. � Despite the internal turmoil for once, my good-natured Catholic persona was ruling out. I had to confess so a good man wouldn’t suffer due to my sins. I wasn’t going to let O’Connor become a martyr. Still, even though I knew what had to be done, I was having trouble mustering up the words to say, the words that would finally bring about my much overdue fate. � With the eyes of Dunn and Matthews focused attentively on yours truly, the words, �śHe didn’t do it, I did,” slowly escaped my lips. �