“They couldn’t take a step at school without being taunted, and heckled. They were rarely, if ever, called by their government names—in fact, it was fair to say that only the teachers addressed them that way. From their supposed peers, it was a constant litany of nicknames, day in, day out.”
I sucked in a deep lungful of air.
“Flubber, chub factory, hooberfoobler, lard ass, biggo, tubs, cake, tubby tits, twinkiepottomus, pudgemaster, marshmallow, koobs, puggergutz, carb face, geek, fatbeard, lard face, jelly belly, kerm, durkle, derk, beaker squeaker, four-eyes, bins, bcg, poindexter... Their all-time favorites though, were double wide, and shen, the latter encompassing both fat and Chinese in the one slur. If nothing else, I admired the word efficiency. Gotta love an efficient bully, right Tabitha?”
She didn’t move, or show any signs of having heard me.
“I mean, I could go on for weeks, but you get the idea. Besides which, you were there, so you know exactly what I’m talking about. No need for me to belabor the point. Let’s just say that it was a good thing they were geeks, as the school library was their safe haven. It was the only space in the school where they got some respite from both the verbal and physical torture.
“You know, they would go most days trying not to use the bathroom while at school? The less they went in there, the less likely either them or their possessions were to end up covered in seven different types of pee. They’d rather take their chances with a bladder infection than suffer the humiliation of stinking of piss all day, or worse still, going home to change, and therefore having to explain to their parents what the fuck had happened.”
Next, the screen was filled with a close-up, and as it panned out, unlike with the version I’d included in the lecture theatre video—which featured only the birth and death dates, with the name blurred out—this time all the detail was clearly visible: Julian Andrew Ho.
The footage stopped there, grainy and flickering, just how I’d wanted it. I gave Tabitha a few moments to absorb the enormity of the situation.
“All of this brings us back to the beginning, and when I say the beginning, I mean the end. A fat camp cabin covered in the brain matter and blood of a kid who just couldn’t go on any more.”
Tabitha had raised her head by this point, staring at me as tears cascaded down her face. She was a teary, blotchy, snotty mess, and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it with her arms still flex-tied behind her back. Good. It was nothing compared to the indignity that Jules and I had suffered for years.
“Name Julian’s brother.” Tabitha said nothing, just sobbed even harder, her head hanging limply.
“I asked you a fucking question, and I didn’t go to all this trouble to put this shit together, not to fucking get an answer. Look at me. Name. Julian’s. Brother.” Her head remained downcast. “I said, fucking look at me. I
’m losing patience, and unlike the kid I used to be, I cannot promise to keep my temper in check when I do.” I took a few slow and measured steps toward her. “Name. Julian’s. Brother.”
“Justin?”
“Ding ding ding! We have a winner. Got it in one. I can see why they’re giving you my Fellowship dollars. Clearly you’re firing on all cylinders.” The sarcasm was off the scale. “Justin Anthony Ho. Identical twin brother of Julian Andrew Ho... who you killed.”
Chapter 24
Rose
When the images on the screen came back around to the gruesome photos of the scene as the robo-voice described it, I gulped back the vomit that had risen to the back of my throat. There was no way I wanted to lose my guts in front of them. It was stupid to still try to hang on to some pride in a situation as bizarre and terrifying as this. But, for some reason, I was trying to do exactly that, despite clearly having lost most of it when I passed out in the back of my captors’ van, and as I now sat covered in snot and tears, crying like a baby.
I blinked rapidly, trying to see past the tears. The image on the screen changed again, and I didn’t need to be able to see what was on it properly to know what it was, and what it said. It was an article from the Hartford Courant, the local paper covering Eastford Connecticut and the surrounding areas. I knew the details by heart, I’d read over them that many times.
Teen Found Dead at Eastford Summer Camp
A minor has been found dead, following an incident involving a shotgun at Blaine Weight Loss Camp for Kids in Eastford on Thursday July 21.
* * *
A 911 call was made at 12.38 p.m. from the facility, reporting an apparent fatality at the camp. Emergency personnel attended at 12.55 p.m., and the deceased, a fourteen-year-old male was declared dead on the scene.
* * *
On July 21, the Eastford Police Department posted on social media that, earlier in the day, officers had “discovered one person deceased with signs of trauma. As more facts came to light, on July 22 the department posted an additional social update stating that homicide had been ruled out in the death, and there was “no further immediate threat related to this incident.”
* * *
The department has since confirmed that, though the death is not being treated as suspicious, they would be launching an investigation into how and why the minor had access to the firearm, though the coroner is expected to rule the death of the child, who has not been named for privacy reasons, suicide.
* * *
In a short statement issued by the camp, Loraine Charles, the owner and director, stated “We at Blaine Weight Loss Camp are deeply saddened by yesterday’s events, and offer our deepest condolences and sympathies to the family and friends concerned. We are working closely with government agencies, and giving them our full co-operation in investigating what happened. We are also offering increased round-the-clock support and counseling to all campers. So that we can best assist the ongoing investigation, we will not be taking calls or responding to any messages on this matter apart from those from parents or guardians of children in our care. We thank you for your understanding at this troubling time.
When school had resumed for the new year, and I’d heard that one of the twins had committed suicide, I’d trawled the internet, finally finding the article in question. However, the remaining twin hadn’t returned to school, and the family seemed to have disappeared without a trace, so I never did get to find out much more about what had happened.
The only follow up was that, a few months later, I managed to track down the Coroner’s report, and as suspected, the death was ruled a suicide. It did also say that despite there being some question marks around how a child was able to access the camp’s hunting rifle, no charges were to be filed.
That was all I’d known for years, despite occasionally Google searching Julian’s brother Justin, hoping that somehow he’d miraculously materialize, and I’d be able to trace him and... and what exactly? Apologize? Atone? The fact was, I hadn’t ever really had a plan for what I would do, maybe because in my heart of hearts, I’d thought I’d never need one. If I was really honest with myself, I never truly thought I’d see the day when I’d be face-to face with him. And now I was.