The Tooth Fairy — Part III

My name is Henry James and I’m a writer for Dark Sides of the Truth Magazine.

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Conclusion

Rick McDonnell my new Chief Editor was right. The information he gave me seemed the tip of an iceberg of a story. He was right about something else.

I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into this one.

An hour and a half ago I signed a contract with the magazine and now I’m back on the road heading for prison. The Polunsky Unit at Livingston Texas to be precise.

The Polunsky Unit is where Texas death row inmates hang out waiting to be transferred to the Walls Unit in Huntsville.

The transfer to Huntsville is usually a one way trip.

According to the scant info I had there was an inmate at the Polunsky unit who while waiting for his forever nap, sent a letter to Dark Sides. Seems this guy is an avid reader of the magazine and he has his own story to tell.

I didn’t have a lot on Robert Reed, the man I was going to interview. Twelve years ago he’d been found guilty for the murder of a man named Sammy Bethard.

Mr. Bethard, a conglomerate mogul and multi-millionaire was found in the living room of his home, a bloody mess.

Witnesses put Robert and Sammy together in the garage parking lot where Sammy parked his Mercedes. Multiple witnesses confirmed something Robert never bothered to deny at the trial. He and Sammy had a violent argument which came to blows.

All of them coming from Robert Reed.

DNA evidence put Robert at Sammy Bethard’s country home around the time of the murder, along with his shoes stained by Sammy’s blood.

During the trial, Robert never once allowed his court attorney to counter or cross examine. In fact, Robert dismissed his lawyer halfway through the trial.

It was almost as if he wanted to be found guilty and put to death.

And that was one of the many reasons I wanted a shot at this guy’s story.

I admit when I pulled into the parking lot at Polunsky it more than amply matched images running in my head. Identical squat concrete buildings with slots for windows, razor wire everywhere you looked and four guard towers manned with officers carrying assault rifles.

I walked into the visitor’s area and stopped at the desk. A police officer asked me to produce ID and then tapped the keyboard of the computer in front of her.

“Henry James?” she said as she compared me against my photo.

I nodded, “yes ma’am.”

“Visiting hours on Wednesdays for DR(s) is from eight to noon. You’ll have thirty minutes then you’ll have to come back. If you intend to come back, you’ll need to schedule it beforehand. Nobody sees any of the prisoners without advance scheduling. If you’re not on this visitor’s list you don’t get in.”

Okay now I was a little bit confused. How was it I was on the list to begin with?

Then it hit me. Rick McDonnell knew I would take the deal. All he had to do was dangle this story in front of me and I took it hook, line and sinker.

That crafty bastard had called my name in ahead of my arrival.

“Thirty minutes that’s it?”

The officer looked at her watch.

“Now, twenty five.”

“Can I schedule after I finish?”

“You can. See that door over there? She pointed across the lobby to a closed wooden door.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Go inside and wait. Officers will be with you shortly.”

I did as instructed. Five minutes later a pair of male officers entered and put me through a rigorous and quite “intimate” body search which frankly embarrassed the hell out of me.

Even worse, neither of them offered me candy or flowers.

They took everything but two pencils and my notepad telling me they’d return it all when I left, then guided me to a set of double doors which opened automatically.

With a guard on either side of me we walked down an extremely long hallway. Somehow I kept thinking about the movie The Green Mile. It was a terribly surreal feeling being escorted by prison guards down that long hallway.

We were buzzed through another doorway, then walked along a short hallway and were buzzed through a final doorway into the visitor’s area.

The booths, consisting of burnished steel panels and Plexiglas windows were numbered.

One of the guards pointed to number 29 and said, “you have fifteen minutes. Don’t ask for more time. You won’t get it.”

I nodded and sat. On the side of the steel panel hung a phone.

A door opened and I saw Robert for the first time. My first thought was no way, no fucking way this dude could have done what the court records indicated.

I watched him shuffle toward me, clothed in a white jumper, his feet shackled. When he stepped into his side of the booth the guard closed the door behind him. I watched Robert drop to his knees, extended his arms behind him and thrust his hands through a slot in the door.

The guard removed his cuffs then closed the slot.

Robert sat down rubbing his wrists, offered me a curt nod then pointed to the phone.

We picked up the phones and I studied him. His pale blue eyes were almost lost beneath his bushy graying eyebrows. My first impression of Robert was that the man was skinny. Toothpick skinny. Now, on closer inspection he seemed as if he was trying to starve himself to death.

Both eyes were sunken deep in his head, each possessing puffy saddlebags of darkened, almost bruised looking skin. His pale flesh was taut, stretched over his face and neck clearly outlining his bones.

It appeared as if he had been fasting for months.

“You from Dark Sides?”

I nodded, “yes. The name’s Henry James. I’m afraid we don’t have…”

“You talked to Wayne yet?”

“Uh, well uh…”

“Look mister…”

“James, Henry James.”

“Mr. James, before we go any further you need to talk to Wayne.”

“This guy’s got a last name?”

Robert Reed nodded but kept his gaze fixed on me.

“Bethard. Sammy’s half brother. Lives in Tomball. Owns an auto repair place. Tell him Robert said to tell you about the tooth fairy.”

I was jotting the information down as fast as I could until that last piece of information. I stopped and peered through the glass expecting to see a smile as if he’d just cracked a joke. He wasn’t grinning.

“Sorry, did you…did you just say the tooth fairy?” I stammered.

“Yes.”

“I know what the tooth fairy is Mr. Reed.”

“No, Mr. James, you don’t, trust me. Go talk to Wayne then come back and we’ll talk. Unless you do I’ve got nothing else to say to you.”

With that, this man looking twice as frail as Gandhi ever did, hung up the phone and twisted his head to call for a guard.

With the phone still pressed to my ear I watched in silence as he knelt and twisted his arms behind his body. He waited until the guard opened the slot then shoved his fists through. When he stood his arms were cuffed behind him and yet he was speaking to me.

I’m certainly not a lip reader, but there were two words I clearly understood.

Tooth Fairy.

When the guard opened the metal door Robert turned away. I stared at the two letters imprinted on the back of his jumper. DR.

I knew that didn’t stand for doctor.

I wondered how much time he had left, then I started wondering how much time I had left.

After being escorted out and collecting my things I stopped at the front desk and scheduled to be put on the visitor’s list for Friday.

She tapped a few entries into the computer and said, “how long?”

“How much time do I have?”

“DR visitor hours on Friday, eight to five.”

“Then I’ll need all day. Can I bring something to eat?”

“No.”

I walked to my car, tossed my satchel on the passengers seat then grabbed my phone and keyed in directions to Tomball in my GPS.

Tomball was about an hour drive south. If I made good time I could grab some lunch and have the rest of the afternoon to find Wayne and ask him about the tooth fairy.

Even thinking about it seemed strange.

READ ON — THE TOOTH FAIRY PART IV

Let’s keep in touch: [email protected]