Garwood Village by Robert F. Clifton (romantic novels in english TXT) 📕

“In Horton's case he was forced to watch his mother sell her body to strange men right in front of him. Is it any wonder that he became schizophrenic? Which brings up another matter, Horton's mental condition. The police became aware of Lionel Horton when he was ten years old. The charge? Juvenile delinquency as a truant. However, why was he a truant. The school never attempted to find out. Neither did the police. He was picked up and shuttled back and forth between the Juvenile Division of the Police Department and the public School system.”

“Let's dwell now on the school system. Ask yourself how an educator can watch for and catch a student chewing gum, smoking in the boys room, cutting classes and being truant yet is unable to notice that there could be a mental problem with that student? Then ask yourself if the educator did indeed consider a mental problem and proper treatment was prescribed and given, would Lionel Horton have developed differently? The answer will never be known.”

“I now refer to Horton and the police. Horton became a criminal although the State of New Jersey would consider him a child until he reached the age of eighteen. First, he became a bully, next was breaking and entering and larceny. These offenses were followed by purse snatching. From that, he graduated into breaking and entering. Finally, his last act as a juvenile was vandalism. In these acts he removed the crutch pad from womens bathing suits using a knife. The police charged him with vandalism. At that time they failed to notice that it was actually a sex crime. Just imagine if they had. Imagine would might have happened if instead of being incarcerated at a reform school Lionel was housed in a facility where he would have been educated and received mental health care. Ask yourself how Lionel might have turned out as an adult if he had been placed in foster care. But, he wasn't. The police operating under the law and with tradition did their job as they believed it to be. They took Lionel into custody and presented him to the court system of the State. There, I must admit one police officer requested that the young man be sent away, hoping that somewhere in the system someone would identify and help with the boy's problem. This time the courts listened to the Social Workers who maintained that Lionel Horton could become a useful citizen of the community if given a chance. So, at age seventeen Lionel Horton was finally placed in a foster home. But,to what avail? The family that he lived with did two things. First, they collected money from the State for taking him in. Second, they used him as labor around the house. He cleaned, washed windows and dishes, scrubbed the floors and took out the trash and garbage. His reward? Three meals a day and a room in a converted attic.”

“At the age of eighteen Lionel enlisted in the army. This is the time of the Vietnam War. If the army found any physiological problems with Horton they either ignored it or failed to recognize it. Lionel was shipped overseas and entered battle soon after his arrival. At last Lionel had a skill and the Army taught him well. They taught him how to kill and he liked doing it. He liked doing it so much that he began taking souvenirs. He cut the ears off of dead Vietnamese and made a belt with them. Finally, fate and the army caught up with him, Lionel was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic. He was sent home and discharged. Once again he had been rejected.”

“He left Fort Dix and traveled to Caravel, New Jersey. There unemployed, rejected by the army and needing help he made contact with Haven House which is a half way house for the mentally ill. It's unclear at this time if he received the help he really needed. Instead of being confined to a place where he could be evaluated on a daily basis, Lionel was allowed to check in and out of the facility whenever he wanted to.”

“Sometime there he began dwelling mentally on Garwood Village. Was it a flashback to his childhood? What ever it was he went back to where his troubles began. He related those troubles to those who lived there, mostly single mothers. And, so he killed. With the first killing came the feeling of acceptance that he had achieved in the military. For the first time in a long time he felt good. And, he killed again and again and again until he had killed five woman. None he knew, but those who he related to as prostitutes, just like his mother.”

“His method of killing was with the use of a knife. Maybe he again related to his time in war when he took the enemy's ears as souvenirs. Maybe he relived that feeling of being accepted by men, men who like him were regarded as warriors. And, then again was it the rejection he felt when he and other returning troops were shouted down and spit upon by American citizens who opposed the war? We will never know. However, put together all the consequences of Lionel Horton's life and it ends up with his death. A death caused by and finalized by Society, our society.”

“Now, I am sure that there are some among you who disagree. You are welcome to your opinion. Nonetheless, I ask you as professional police officers to reflect on your own careers. Think about how many times you yourselves have come upon the mentally ill and have ignored them. Remember back to the domestic violence calls you have responded to and witnessed abject poverty and ignored it. Consider how many times you have taken a juvenile into custody for purse snatching, but never asked why did they do it?”

“Now, in closing I reserve the right of my opinion in relation to Lionel Horton particularly since his crimes were my cases and second because he shot me. However, in reality he did so because he was also a victim. Thank you”.

Robert Wallace laid back relaxed in his lounge chair on the beach in front of the Half moon Blue Hotel in Tobago. He took a swig out of the cold bottle of El Presidente beer he held in his hand and watched his wife as she swam just off of the shoreline. He smiled to himself, happy knowing that she was happy and content. She was his wife and that's what she wanted. Now, he finally realized that she was what he wanted.

He raised the sunglasses on his face from his nose to the top of his head and watched her walking towards him. He remembered their last trip together here, then she wore a white bikini. Today it was a pink suit. She walked up to him then took a seat on the lounge next to him, then with a thick towel dried first her hair then her arms and legs. Swinging around she sat upright then held out her hand and said, “Let me have a taste of your beer”.

Wallace handed her the bottle and replied. “Sure I drink maybe three beers a year and now I have to share at least one with you”.

“I've got news for you hotshot. From now on you have to share everything with me”.

“How's the water?”, he asked.

“Really? How's the water? Really? We're in Tobago in June. It's like taking a bath. Do you every think you'll go for a swim?”

“You never know”.

“I know, you don't like getting wet twice, once in the Caribbean and again in the shower”.

“No one told me that as a married man I’d be subject to spousal abuse”.

“Yeah, well get use to it buster”, said Mary laughing.

“Why did you bring that large straw bag to the beach?”, he asked.

“I have to send out thank you cards for all the wedding presents we received. This is a good place to do it. And, just because you love me we can move to the cabana and you can order lunch to be served there and I can sign the cards and address the envelopes”.

“It's going to cost me a fortune just for the postage from here”.

“I couldn't get together fifty carrier pigeons for you”.

“You know, you're becoming a little smart ass”, he said.

“Yes, I know, but you love me”.

“Yes I do. I really do”.

Text: Robert f. clifton
Editing: J. William blackmore
Publication Date: 12-28-2013

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