Chapter Twenty

Chancey’s Story

Though Eileen has spoken with Chancey, a meeting that evoked in the lawyer a somewhat negative reaction toward the boy, she has not had much opportunity to hear the boy’s personal side of the circumstances leading up to the third murder accusation – the killing of his sister Keenan. While in guardianship, Chancey had been contacted by his 23-year-old sibling through a note attached to a rock launched through the window of the house where he was living. The rock, apparently missing, supposedly stated that “She (Keenan) approved of the parents’ murder, and was proud of her brother for having the ‘guts’ to end the abuse both she and her brother had endured for the nearly 8 years she had remained at the home. Though an advocate for the boy during  Chancey’s hearing, Keenan remained rather subdued in her defense of her brother, with the judge largely ignoring the claims of abuse Keenan said they had encountered.

When charged as the person of interest in Keenan’s killing, Chancey had told the judge of the note, but it could not be found, and was negated as hearsay.

After arriving at the mental detention center, Eileen meets the boy in a small room, that is much the same size as a prison cell. There is a single bed, a small table, a bean-bag type chair and a toilet and a sink shielded for some privacy by a low  wall. Two cameras scan the room  from opposite angles.  There is a TV monitor on the desk, some paper, a few books and magazines, a crayon-like writing implement, and a plastic pencil sharpener.

The entry door is without bars, but has security-strength glass, and there is a small window with tempered glass to hinder escape or suicide attempts.

Eileen is led into the cell by a female security attendant, who remains on the outside of the closed door during the meeting.

Chancey is lying on the bed when she arrives, but stands when Eileen is led into the room. He is obviously uncomfortable and makes no eye contact.

“Hello, Chancey. I’m Eileen, your attorney,” says Eileen, trying to sound somewhat upbeat and positive.

“Hi,” says the boy. “You’re here to defend me?”

“Going to try!” answers Eileen. “If you’ll let me.”

“Not much point, don’t you think,” says Chancey.

“There’s always a point to a defense,” says the lawyer.

“Not in my case,” responds the boy.

“In any case,” answers Eileen. “I’m here to find out your side of the story.”

“My side? I don’t have a side. I killed my parents, and now I murdered my sister.”

“That’s it?” asks Eileen.

Chancey sits back on his bed and folds his arms across his chest.

“My parents were not good people,” he offers. “And neither was my sister.”

“How so?” says Eileen..

“It’s  no excuse for killing them. I know that. But it’s what I did.”

“Take me back to the first incident,” asks Eileen.

“It was the fall, and I came home from school late, and my Dad launched into me about where I was. I told him I was at a friend’s house, and he asked which friend. I told him I was at Donny’s. He doesn’t like Donny. Uh, didn’t like Donny.”

“Why not?”

“Donny’s a bit of a queer, you know, he likes boys and he’s 14. I was 11, and he thought Donny would turn me queer. Like him.”

“What happened next?” All of this was in the transcript from the hearing, and Chancey’s words now are almost verbatim to the text.

“Mom comes in and gets into the act. She was just about as bad as Dad about Donny.  I just stood there looking at their mouths as they tag-teamed on me, calling me a fairy lover.  I finally turned around, went into my room and lay down on my bed.  I was shaking...and I was mad...at them. I could hear them outside the door talking. Dad was blaming Mom for coddling me and Mom was screaming back at him, and they both were calling Donny a faggot...”

As he’s talking Eileen can see the rage building up again in Chancey as he talks about his parents.

“And then, Chancey, what came next?” questioned Eileen.

“I fell asleep....but I woke up later after they had both gone to bed. I had settled down....but I knew what I had to do.”

“Go on.”

“I went to the kitchen and got the knife Dad used for carving roasts. I walked to their bedroom and quietly opened their door. They were both asleep. Mom was faced away from Dad. Dad was on his back and snoring. His hands were folded across his belly.

“I took the knife with both hands and plunged it at what I thought to be Dad’s heart. He gasped and it awakened Mom. I pulled the knife out and pushed it in hard again... and then I swung it towards Mom catching her in the neck, just as she screamed my name. I swung again and sliced her face. As she was moving towards me, I aimed at her right eye and pushed the knife as hard as I could into it, and pulled it out. That quieted her, and I looked at Dad. He was still. Mom was lying on her back with her hands covering her face, so I aimed for her heart with the knife and then I did it again to finish the job.”

“And how did you feel when it was over....and they were dead?”

“I felt....peaceful. No one was yelling at me, and I wouldn’t have to hear their voices again.”

“And how do you feel now...as you look back on it?“

“Not much of anything.”

“Are you worried?”

“No, not really. I’m glad it’s over. Donny is a good person. He’s not queer or weird or wrong.”

“Don’t you feel that you over-reacted...What I mean is , they were your parents that you killed.”

“I really felt nothing for them. My sister said they abused us. Maybe they abused her, I don’t know, but I don’t remember them abusing me. They were just...there.”

“Okay, Chancey...so tell me what happened between you and your sister.”

“My sister was older than me, and we never were very close. I was surprised when she tried to contact me for a meeting. I was pretty closely watched after what happened, and I can see that the people who took me in were not all that pleased with my being there. My uncle had wanted to step in, but I think the court was struggling with what to do with an 11-year-old who killed his parents.

“Keenan seemed to have her own complaints about Mom and Dad, but in the note she said she wanted to meet me to discuss something....personal....and asked me to meet her at a park near our old house.  She told me to write a time and day on a note and attach it to the rock and throw it out the window so it would land near the mailbox. I figured a time when I could sneak away for a short time without being noticed. I didn’t mind meeting with her, but I couldn’t understand what she wanted from me.”

“And how did you communicate your answer to her?”

“I again attached a note to her rock and threw it towards he mailbox. It was gone the next day.”

“Did you feel threatened at all?” asked the lawyer.

“No, if anything, I felt surprised. Keenan was okay with our parents, and I was a bit shocked to read her reaction to me killing them. Her defense of me in court was not helpful toward my case...but then how could it be...after what I did.”

“This transcript says that you met her on Thursday, November 5th at the park at 5th and Leary at 5:30 a.m. The park is not too far from where I was living then.”

“I don’t remember the date, but yes, it was early in the morning and still dark. Keenan had sent another rock message.”

“She must have quite an arm,” Eileen said with a smile. “The transcript also says that you were found with a knife.”

“I don’t know why I took it from the kitchen. I took it when no one was looking, but I don’t know why I took it with me.”

“Were you planning to hurt Keenan, Chancy?”

“I don’t think so, but I was nervous about the darkness of the park...even though I picked the early time of day.”

“You also had a flashlight?”

“I took that from the kitchen drawer at the same time as the knife, I had decided that climbing out the window was the only way I could get out. There is a short roof below the window that’s connected to the garage roof. From there it's only a short drop to the ground.”

“She was there when you arrived?”

“Yep!”

“And what was the conversation?”

“She asked how I was doing...and holding up....nothing important. Then she started talking about money. She said our parents had a will and we were both to inherit when they died. Then she said, because I killed them, I couldn’t share in the estate. I told her that I figured that, and I didn’t care. She could have it all. She deserved it, I guess. But she didn’t stop about them, and didn’t I remember being abused by them

“I told her I didn’t remember. And then she told me how all the ways she was abused and beaten by my father and touched and fondled....and my mother didn’t stop him. She said it had wrecked her life.

“I told her again that I didn’t remember, and then she told me a story that I thought was a dream, but must not have been. I was only about three, and my parents had a friend over who was touching my pee pee and laughing about how cute and tiny it was. They laughed too, and then the man pulled down his pants and made me touch his thing as it grew large.

“In the dream, I saw my parents laughing about it and remember not knowing what was okay or not.

“And your sister told you this story?”

“Yes, but she had more stories and didn’t stop telling me about them. It was don’t you remember this, and don’t you remember that, and she didn’t stop. I put my hands over my ears, but she kept pulling them away. She said I needed to know what happened growing up.

“But I didn’t want to hear it. I just kept saying ‘No...no...no...no’ but she wouldn’t stop. She said it was important. And I couldn’t make her stop telling me how it wasn’t just her, but me too.

“I turned my back on her and covered my ears and kept chanting, ‘No...no...no...no...’ but she wouldn’t stop. And then as if the noise had stopped, I felt my hand grab the knife in my pocket and slash at her. The knife was small, so it shocked Keenan more than hurting her, yet I did cut her arm, the left one, and then I kept slashing as she pushed me away. She was much larger, so she almost got the knife away. But I was so mad that she couldn’t weaken me, and I slashed out again and caught her in the throat. I watched as she fell backwards, spurting blood...and I watched her die.”

“That must have been an awful moment for you,” said the attorney.”

“I hated hearing her tell the stories, and they stopped with the last cut I made. I waited with her till someone arrived and called the police. She was drenched in blood and so was I. They found me sitting on the ground playing with the knife. I stopped when the police came and laid the knife on the ground.”

“How did they react to you...the scene? said Eileen.

“The one cop had his gun drawn as he got near. The other came in front of him, and asked  if I was alright. I told him I was, and that I had just hurt my sister. He asked if she had hurt me, and I said that she hadn’t...she just kept talking.

“Then they took me to the police station and they found out where I lived...along with the rest of it...about my parents....the hearing....and my sister.

“They were nice enough, and even got me a Coke. I was quiet when they told me she was dead. I said that I figured that was so.”

“And you felt....? What did you feel Chancey?” questioned Eileen.

“Nothing much...just calm.”