“It is the opinion of this court that the crime you have been found guilty of is the work of a certain type of individual that deserves close and careful consideration, given the alarming regularity with which one has begun to encounter him in daily life and especially within our courts of justice. It boggles the mind to imagine how a man could suffocate his own grandmother, a woman who had raised and cared for him since birth, over a matter as trifling as the one in this case. The heinousness of your crime is such that there is no greater temptation than to bring down the heaviest sentence possible upon you, and rid the world once and for all of your wasteful and despicable existence.”
“That being said, your citizenship of this country entitles you to the benefits that come with living in a state that prides itself on advancing the most progressive and humane policies possible toward the criminal element. This court sees little benefit that could come from having a person such as yourself, already so hardened and without human feeling, waste away in a prison cell. The good Lord knows we already have enough men behind bars who have turned their minds toward nothing but evil and degrading thoughts. Instead, this court would like to see if there is not a way to teach you a lesson about the value of work in the service of mankind.”
“With all the generosity that a keen sense of justice could allow, the court is prepared to release the convicted under the following terms: you will have one year from today to prevent the death of one citizen of this country. Should you fail, despite your very best efforts, to accomplish this task within the time alloted to you, then this court will have no other recourse than to enforce the maximum sentence possible for your crime: death. Any impartial observer to this case can easily see that the terms of this sentence go far and above the duties of fairness and justice, and rather than simply punishing the convicted, offer him a chance to redeem himself before this court, this nation, and indeed, before himself.”
Even while trying to maintain his best posture, Willard could not help letting his shoulders slouch, exaggerating his large rounded back. As the judge spoke, the underarms of his white dress shirt turned gray and wet and Willard repeatedly reached inside his brown tweed jacket, into the crevice of his armpits, and plucked the damp shirt away from his skin. Willard didn’t like hearing what others thought of him and what he did to Grammy and was anxious for the judge to stop talking about it. He remembered how he felt that day when Grammy threatened to make him rake the lawn as punishment for sneaking a piece of cake before dinner. Usually she just ordered him to stay in his room for the rest of the night. If there was one punishment he was truly prepared to endure, then and now, it was being forced to remain nearly motionless in a small space with little human contact or physical activity. Faced with the prospect of jail time, Willard’s strongest apprehensions had centered around the mundane details of this existence. Is there only one TV in a main room or would he be given his own? Would the guard pick the channel or would he? By remote control or by hand? He was prepared for a life of solitude and rest and could not have been more surprised, and in truth, disappointed, when he realized that he was being sent back into a world that he detested with all the passion of a man who had nothing in his soul that could be properly described by that word.
After his release, Willard took a room at the YMCA near the highway. He slept nearly all the time, waking only long enough to satisfy whatever immediate physical need demanded attention. His solitude was occasionally interrupted by a patrol officer who was trying to ensure that Willard entertained no thoughts of sleeping his way through the year and ending back in prison to face execution. His threats to Willard were informed by the knowledge that the judge who had sentenced Willard was staking his personal reputation on this unusual case, and he felt a personal duty to defend the honor of a fellow keeper of the law.
But Willard slept soundly through month after month. Unknown to the court, Grammy had a bank account that Willard has access to which provided him with everything his existence required. The days began to pass in much the same way as they had before Grammy’s death and after a while Willard nearly forgot the certain death he was slouching toward. But one night, as he slept on his small filthy bed, he dreamt that Grammy was speaking to him. She was angry, so angry that she started to yell at him. She told him that he was to get himself out of bed and get a job where he could save someone. This dream would not have made such an impact on Willard had it not been for the scene that ended it. As Grammy continued to scold him, Willard dreamt that he once again grabbed her neck and choked her, screaming at her to leave him alone. He awoke with a start, his cheeks burning red with shame.
Willard weighed the options available to him. Nearly all the jobs that would put him in a position to save the life of another person required more physical stamina than he could reasonably expect of himself. Fireman, lifeguard, paramedic, police officer; Willard paused on this possibility, thinking of all the overweight cops he had seen. But he knew that there must be some sort of training period that would require time he did not have. And then the solution hit him: security guard. He cheered himself with the thought of the small TV he could watch while on duty.
With less than 4 months left to save himself, Willard needed to move fast, or least faster than he had been. He managed to secure an interview with a department store for a security guard position. He combed his hair and put on the same white dress shirt and brown tweed jacket he had worn for his trial. He was 15 minutes early for the interview and sat waiting in the employee break room, sweat growing in large circles under his arms.
The interviewer was an older woman with a stern air that immediately put Willard on edge. She was aware of his predicament and felt a mixture of pity and repulsion on seeing him. She began the interview by asking Willard about his previous work experience (none) and what skills he possessed that he thought made him a good candidate for the position (his stuttered, rambling response could be summed up as “the ability to remain inert but attentive for extended periods of time.”). Willard could sense that the interview was not going well and reached into his pocket to retrieve a roll of Pep-O-Mint Life Savers. He clumsily unpeeled one end of the roll and slipped a mint into his sticky mouth. The old woman continued her questioning, the disapproval in her voice becoming more pronounced.
“Willard, I want you to listen well to what I’m about to say. I am not going to give you this job simply because you imagine that you somehow deserve it. I do not have the patience to deal with people like yourself, who find it so immensely difficult to show even the slightest bit of ambition. Now, I want you to give me one good, and I do mean good, reason why I should give this job to you. And please, try to slow down this time. It doesn’t become a young man to have spittle shooting out of his mouth as he speaks.”
Willard’s face turned red and he shifted noisily in his chair, trying to coax his mind into action. His whole body tensed and he stared dismally at the floor, imagining what kind of meal they serve the day you are executed. He remembered right away that the prisoner gets anything he asks for.
Willard opened his mouth to begin his response. As he drew a deep, heavy breath, the Life Saver shot to the back of his mouth and lodged itself in his airway. He gasped and threw himself back in his chair, tensing his throat and trying to suck in air. The old woman looked at Willard with alarm and begin asking what the matter was. Willard tried to respond but could only gasp and gesture wildly toward his throat. He heaved himself out of his chair and bent over, trying to force a cough, losing precious seconds of time. The old woman ran to the door, shouting into the long hallway for someone to call an ambulance. Willard knew that they would arrive too late and began the final desperate seizures of total panic. Using all his weight, he threw himself onto the back of the metal folding chair he had been sitting in. He slammed his midsection on the chair again and again, trying to force the mint out of his throat. Finally, his stomach revolted and sent the thick brown liquid of several partially digested Ho Hos spewing back out of his mouth. The violence of the spasm shot the mint out of Willard’s mouth and sent him to the floor, coughing uncontrollably.
Willard had saved himself. The long life that lay ahead would provide plenty of time to relax and recuperate.