Settling Accounts

by Jeff Jones

jeffjones4691@ntlworld.com

How did it ever come to this? I'm no Charles Bronson or disillusioned vigilante hell bent on revenge; I'm just an ordinary bloke whose daughter has been wronged. Wronged by the man she loved and let down by the legal system. Surely any other father pushed into the same position would have done the same thing?

It all started a few weeks ago when our seventeen-year-old daughter, Cara, brought home her new boyfriend, Danny. He was a couple of years older than Cara, polite, well-mannered and had a steady job and Karen, my wife, took to him instantly. I, however, just couldn't bring myself to like him. He gave me absolutely no reason to dislike him, which made my attitude towards him all the more irrational, but I just didn't like him.

Karen put my animosity down to an overprotective nature, just another father who couldn't bear any man touching his little princess. Except that she wasn't a little princess any more, but rather a fully grown beautiful woman, with the kind of looks that were going to turn men's heads.

Initially everything went well and Cara seemed really happy with Danny. They saw each other most nights and played by my rules, albeit under protest. Slowly but surely, I began to relax about Danny, though I can honestly say that I could never bring myself to actually like him.

Then it happened, the incident that more than justified my suspicions about Danny, though I wish to heaven that it hadn't.

I guess it's the moment every parent dreads each time their daughter steps outside the front door. I shall never forget the way Cara looked when she walked in that night, her hair dishevelled and her eyes puffy and bloodshot where she'd been crying. I knew instantly what had happened to her and my heart sank with sorrow.

My distress at seeing my beautiful daughter defiled in that way coupled with my feeling of helplessness was too much for me and manifested itself in a display of rage towards anyone and everyone that ultimately served no purpose. Karen on the other hand, whilst obviously as distressed as I was, remained calm and took charge of the situation. Whilst I raged about how I was going to kill him, Karen sat Cara down and coaxed the story out of her before telephoning the police.

Cara confessed that virtually from day one Danny had been pestering her for sex and although she was clearly besotted with him, she had always refused, saying it was far too early in their relationship. On this particular night they had driven out to a well-known beauty spot and Danny had been in no mind to take no for an answer. As I'd listened to my daughter recount the evening's events, I swore that I'd kill Danny for what he'd done. This only upset Cara more and drew withering looks from Karen, but what was I supposed to do? I felt that I'd let Cara down and an overt display of rage had made me feel better.

At the police station, they took statements and examined Cara, before again asking her to go over the story. To me it was an open and shut case, but not apparently to the investigating officers. Eventually, they brought Danny in for questioning and he had turned on his boyish charm and began to sow the seeds of doubt in their minds. He claimed that Cara was a willing participant and looked shocked, making a big play out of asking how Cara was and whether he could see her. After several hours of questioning and at the insistence of his solicitor who had demanded that the police either charge Danny or let him go, the police were forced to release him.

Karen and I were devastated; what more proof did the police need, he was guilty in our eyes? One of the officers remained convinced that Danny was guilty, whereas the other had serious doubts. It would be up to the Crown Prosecution Service whether to proceed. Several of Danny's friends and a couple of Cara's had seen them go off together, laughing and joking, the inference being that Cara must have known Danny's intentions and was as keen as him. Two of Danny's friends claimed that Cara had been seen coming on to Danny earlier in the evening, something Cara vehemently denied.

Annoyed by the lack of police action, a few nights later I had waited outside Danny's house and followed him when he went out that evening with a couple of his friends.   From a discreet distance I'd watched as he tried his charm on some young girls who were clearly not interested and at one stage I became very concerned for their safety. It was clear to me that Danny was a suave but manipulative sexual predator and a menace to young girls.

I followed them until they were eventually alone and then confronted them. Dredging up every bit of courage and bravado in me, I'd told Danny that I knew that he was guilty and that if I ever got the opportunity I'd kill him for what he'd done. I'd meant it at the time, but deep down I knew that I wouldn't be able to make good on my threats, it wasn't in me. Unfortunately, so did Danny. Right there in front of his mates he as good as admitted raping Cara and then tried to provoke me into attacking him. To jeers and derision I had to turn and walk away, insult added to injury.

Eventually the police decided to prosecute and our day in court came. Somehow, through a combination of dubious witnesses and a slippery barrister, Cara was made to feel like the guilty party whilst Danny sat there smirking. The jury were convinced that sex had been consensual and Danny was found not guilty. They even managed to mention in their defence case that I was harassing and threatening him, which led to a rebuke from the judge.

Outside the courtroom Danny and his mates had laughed at us as we walked past, reducing both Cara and Karen to tears and I swore right there and then, that somehow I would get that son of a bitch. But talk is cheap and deep down I knew that if push came to shove, I'd probably bottle it again and so I had to find another way.

That other way was a lowlife character called "Dave"' whom I was introduced to by another lowlife, after making some discreet enquiries down the pub. For five hundred quid, this guy would see that Danny received a severe beating, no questions asked. I didn't know who was going to carry out the attack and I didn't want to know. In fact, the less I knew about the whole thing the better. So no real names were exchanged and like something out of a TV programme, I had passed this thug an envelope stuffed full of tenners. It had shocked me just how easy it was to arrange these things and how cheap life was to some people. So I had gone home that night with a heavy heart and a light wallet, but it would be worth it to know that Danny received some sort of punishment for his crime. Where the courts had failed, "Dave" would deliver.

On the walk home I vowed that I would never set foot in that pub again and would never tell Karen about what I had done. If she ever queried the missing money I would tell her I'd started gambling or something. She hated Danny for what he had done and she hated the courts for what they hadn't done.   Nonetheless, at Cara's insistence, we'd agreed to try and move on with our lives and Karen had insisted that I stop talking about revenge, even though I knew she was as angry as me.

My meeting with "Dave" yesterday evening had led to a sleepless night. Guilt and self-doubt had assailed me to such an extent that in the dark confines of my bedroom, my nerve broke and I resolved to find "Dave" and tell him to forget the whole thing. I had to respect Cara's wishes and move on.

Now as I sit in my armchair watching half a dozen policemen walk up my garden path, it seems it's too late. Somehow after our meeting last night, "Dave" must have found Danny and dispensed punishment. How the police found out and traced it back to me so fast I don't know, but I guess that I'm about to find out.

Karen looks really upset and I wish I'd never started any of this. I never told her anything about last night, but perhaps she's guessed. After all, I did swear in front of witnesses that I was going to get him.

Cara has got up and answered the door and without standing on ceremony, several burly policemen and two female constables bundle into my lounge.

Karen is sobbing now and I smile reassuringly over at her as I stand to face my accusers. My head is swimming as I hear one of the officers say something about being under arrest for the murder of Danny Griffin before reading my rights. For some reason they're facing Karen, not me.

I watch incredulously as my wife is handcuffed and escorted out of the house towards the waiting police cars. Cara looks to me for an explanation, but I have none. She stops one of the female officers and asks what is going on and above the pounding in my temples caused by the rushing blood, I think I hear the officer tell her that Danny was run down last night and killed. Witnesses claimed that a dark coloured car like ours driven by a woman fitting Karen's description exactly, deliberately mounted the pavement and ran him over. There's also blood on our car bonnet apparently.

As I collapse back into the armchair to contemplate the shambles of our lives it occurs to me that my wife had the courage to finish what I couldn't.

©2009 Jeff Jones

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