He now felt immobilized. He has been sitting on the wooden bench in the park since late last night. It was now early in the morning. He had intended to go straight home after the events at the office. However, he was seen leaving the building by a young couple he knew. They were going to dinner in one of the expensive restaurants nearby. He did not know what to do or where to go, so he came to the park. His home was not an option. It was the first place the police would look. His parents’ home was out of the question. It was the second place the police would look. He was sure his family, business associates, and friends had been contacted. “How did I get myself into this mess.” was what raced through his mind. He could never have imagined himself being in a situation such as this. Nothing in his background would have ever made it seem possible.
Yet he was. And he felt that there was no way out. Or was there? He took the knife that he had used mere hours before from his coat pocket. He had intended to dispose of it, but when he was seen leaving the building he just didn’t bother. The knife was stained red with blood. Blood of two human beings whose lives he had taken to supposedly save his. He pressed the knife to his left wrist and made a deep cut. Blood gushed out. He then pressed the knife to his right wrist. More red blood gushed out.
He began to fall into a deep silent sleep. Thoughts raced through his mind as the sleep took hold. No longer would he have to worry about what he had done. No longer would he have to worry about being found out. No longer would he have to think about the two men and their families whose lives he had destroyed. No longer would he have to worry about his reputation and what his family, business associates, and friends would think. No longer would he have to feel guilt over his actions. “If only the gamblers, my supervisor, and the accountant had been more understanding, none of this would have happened,” he told himself in his state of semi-consciousness. Four hours later it was all over.
His troubles were now over. They were now left for his wife and children and his parents. The disgrace, embarrassment, and humiliation of his actions were now theirs to carry. They now were subject to the anger and despair of two brutal murders and a suicide committed by a man whom they thought they knew and loved.
When the police contacted them, their first reaction was shock and disbelief. After all this was not the husband, father, and son whom they knew. There had to be a mistake. It had to be someone else. He simply didn’t come home because he was working so late and was tired and probably went to a hotel and forgot to call. He did not gamble, he did not steal, he could not harm another human being, he would never take his own life. It had to be someone else. Some stranger. Some unknown person. Not Frank Barnes, successful investment broker, highly educated, socially conscious, involved in charitable work, loving husband, father, son, and friend to all who know him. No not him. But it was, and they now had to live with the realities of what he had done.
