Later Tuesday evening, May 26th, 1992. Benny pulled away from the police station around 8:30 p.m. He thought he would first drive to his house and pick up some clothes and a few other items. Then he figured he would just stay with his folks in Miller that night since he would be only a couple of miles away--at Stagecoach Road.
The wind died down and the sky was clear. It was a comfortable sixty-five degrees. Benny turned left off of U.S. 20, then right onto Stagecoach Road. He had only one thing in mind: get his camera from the Jon boat. His plan was to develop the pictures he took of Gerald in his office the next day.
He pulled up to the tree at about 9:35 p.m. and turned off his headlights, just keeping his parking lights on. The woods were unusually dark as his car bounced over a branch, making its way inside the timber tomb. He stopped near his boat and reached for his flashlight from the glove compartment and got out of his car. The night air was eerily still. The only noise was a muffled crunching sound his shoes made on the dead leaves below. He slowly took eight steps towards his boat. He shone the light on the tarp covering the vessel. Out of curiosity, but mostly out of pleasure and a sense of resolution, he wanted to take a look at Gerald’s hanging corpse, which he figured must be half eaten by now. He took his flashlight and tilted it up towards the tree, casting a wide white beam where the body was hanging. It wasn’t there. Benny pointed the flashlight down, thinking the body fell. He scanned the ground below and saw nothing. “Am I in the right spot?” he asked himself. “A dead man just can’t vanish like that.” He took his light and scanned the entire area. No body. Then--a piece of the rope! He saw a small length of rope, about two feet, curled up under his feet. He picked it up and shone his flashlight on it, and saw several droplets of dried blood embedded in the fibers. “Shit, what happened? Where’s the rest of the rope? Where’s the fucking body. Holy fuck!” He then took his flashlight and scoured the trees once more. Nothing. Shit, someone was here, he thought, fearing the worst. Someone was here and they took the body. They know it was me.
Benny was sweating. The Versed had already worn off, but he wished it hadn’t. He was plenty scared. He knew he was in trouble. And he knew someone took the body. But who? And why? Without a clue, he walked to his boat. At least I’ll get my camera, and maybe a few other things while I’m here, he conceded to himself. Benny looked around then grabbed the cold tarp and flung it off the boat all at once, like he was unveiling a new statue. An imaginary sound of loud church bells filled his head as if to signal eminent danger. At that moment a nesting bird flew out of the boat, loudly flapping passed his head, which frightened the already agitated murderer. “HOLY HELL!” Benny yelled. Gerald’s grisly corpse was in the boat! His supine body laid out like he was in a coffin ready to be buried. His boney, bloody hands clasped at his waist. Gerald’s dead eyes were open and were staring right at Benny. The corner of Gerald’s blue lips turned up in a sinister smile. The shock was excruciating. “HOLY MOTHERFUCKER! HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK! HOLY FUCK!” Benny screeched at the top of his lungs, not thinking he could be heard. “FUCK, FUCK!” Benny hung on to his flashlight as he bolted for his car, nearly soiling his pants, his heart pounding out of his chest. He reached for his keys and started the engine. No, he thought. I’ve got to get my camera. He got out of his car and ran to the boat. He lifted up Gerald’s ghastly remains and shined his light underneath the body and everywhere around the interior. The camera was gone, as was almost everything else. The only item remaining was a half roll of duct tape. Shit, I’m dead, Benny thought. But I can’t panic. Now’s not the time.
Benny pulled the stiff carcass out of the boat and dragged it further into the woods, piling a large clump of leaves over the face. He went back to the boat, which was sitting on the trailer, and pulled it to his car and hooked it up to his bumper. He put his car in drive and slowly creaked out of the woods. He turned left onto Stagecoach Road, gradually increasing his foot pressure on the gas pedal. Not wanting to fumble with the inside controls, Benny reached out the window to adjust the side mirror with his left hand. Before his hand reached the mirror, he saw Gerald’s reflection, as bright as day, looking right at him from the silver glass. It was the image Benny burnt in his own mind--the haunting image of Gerald laying there in the Jon boat. Benny wiped his eyes and the image was gone. He had to get out of there.
It was 9:55 p.m. Benny changed his plan. He drove the boat to Coros RV & Boat Storage on Cline Avenue in Hammond. After unhitching it, he padlocked the garage-style door and went back to his house, arriving at 11:00 o’clock. Marsha was awake pacing in the kitchen when she heard her husband unlock the front door. Benny looked terrible. His pants were torn, his jacket was filthy and his hair was dotted with pieces of dried dirt. He immediately went to the first floor bathroom to clean up before Marsha saw him. She was standing there when he exited the lavatory.
“Don’t worry,” Benny said, blotting his face with a towel. “I’m not here to stay. Just tonight--on the couch. I’ll be staying with my folks until I can find an apartment.”
It was obvious Marsha had been crying all day. She too looked a mess.
“Do they know? Did you tell them?”
“Yes, I called my folks today. They’re not taking it very well. They’re worried about our kids.”
“I only told Stephanie. But word must have gotten out because my mother called. She blames you.”
Benny walked into the kitchen and grabbed a handle of Jim Beam from the cabinet above the refrigerator and took a pull straight from the bottle.
“Let her,” Benny said. He took a saltine from the table. “I didn’t get into detail. Yes, I told a few people. Tracey knows. I didn’t get into any detail. None at all. No one knows why. And I intend to keep it that way. I just said we grew apart and left it at that.”
Marsha sat down at the table and put her head in her hands.
“So that’s it?” she asked, her voice choked with emotion. “It ends just like this. Don’t I have a say?”
Benny took one more drink and capped the bottle.
“You had your say--on the answering machine. Yes, yes, that’s how I found out about you and Tommy. Now you know.”
Marsha cried even louder.
“That wasn’t all my fault!” she shot back. “He was there for me when I needed someone to talk you. You….you… you never were.”
“Yeah, when you needed someone to talk to,” Benny mocked. “Did you ever hear of AIDS? Did you know who you were fucking? God only knows what I could have caught from you. Who else did you fuck without me knowing? Are those kids upstairs even mine?”
Marsha stormed out of the kitchen and ran upstairs. Benny didn’t follow. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and put this very long day behind him. He knew tomorrow was going to be even longer.