Scarecrow of 1889
Chapter 34: Moving quickly down

Chapter 34: Moving quickly down

Music Recommendation: Blooming Truth - Byun Sang Hoo

—

When Sylvester appeared in the witness stand, it caused a ripple of murmurs through the audience. He had tried to stay brave, but it was hard. He saw Charles make his way towards him,

"Mr. Crowley, can you tell us what was the nature of your relationship with your deceased neighbour, Margot Brooks?"

"We were nothing more than neighbours in the building. Miss Brooks attempted to express her interest in me, but I never reciprocated. A few days before her... demise, she was upset with me, accusing me of entertaining a woman in my apartment," Sylvester explained, adjusting his glasses.

"And did you?" Charles pressed.

"No. I haven’t been involved with any woman since my ex-girlfriend passed away," Sylvester replied. "I loved Samantha... even though these allegations say I killed her. She’s the only one I loved dearly."

Jane, observing the proceedings, felt a weight settle in her chest, which she quickly brushed aside.

"The officers found your fingerprints on Sebastian Daniel, Delilah Swan and Lola Taylor and Margot Brooks crime scene. Do you have any idea how that happened?" Charles pressed, his tone sharp.

Sylvester felt a surge of anxiety, and his heartbeat quickened. "I wouldn’t know... I was told it could be my alter egos."

"When did you know that you have alter egos inside you, Mr. Crowley?" Charles asked, the spectators eagerly awaited the guilty man’s response before his inevitable sentencing.

"I only became aware of them recently, under hypnosis by Teddy Walsham," Sylvester replied. He then added, "After I was arrested."

"Those are all the questions I have for Mr. Crowley, Your Honour," Charles concluded with a bow before turning to Mr. Hamilton.

Mr. Hamilton eagerly approached the witness box, ready to dismantle the guilty Sylvester. "Mr. Crowley, have you ever had run-ins with the law prior to these heinous acts?"

"Objection, Your Honour!" Charles interjected.

"Overruled," Judge Reynolds ruled and Charles clenched his teeth.

Mr. Hamilton then stated, "Allow me to rephrase. I’ve heard you had a fight with another inmate many times while in jail. Care to enlighten us on what occurred?"

Mr. Hamilton replied with a smug smile, turning his attention back to Sylvester. "So, Mr. Crowley, care to elaborate on the events that led to your week-long stint in solitary room?"

Sylvester felt unprepared for this unexpected turn of questioning. He glanced at Charles for reassurance, receiving a nod that encouraged him to speak truthfully. "Well, one moment the man attempted to assault me, and the next, I found myself locked in a dark room..." It had been a horrifying experience, not knowing what had transpired. He couldn’t recall much of his time in the solitary room.

"To wield a knife is one thing, but it is said that you didn’t have a weapon with you when you attacked Garry. You used your hands somehow to cause an injury, similar to Margot Brooks," Mr. Hamilton pressed.

"Objection! He’s leading my cl—"

"Overruled," the judge interrupted, turning his attention back to Sylvester.

"I told you I don’t know how it happened," Sylvester responded, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But the guard reported the inmate sustained severe injuries, and his leg is now paralysed due to your stabbing. Was it merely luck, then?" Mr. Hamilton’s interrogation continued without pause, giving Sylvester no break. "And what about those innocent victims? How do you explain your fingerprints being found at the crime scene? Are you suggesting someone is framing you for their crimes or you are just hiding a violent nature of yours?"

"I can’t explain how my prints ended up there. I even sought help from the parish house when I felt my life was being threatened," Sylvester explained, his voice tinged with frustration.

"First, you claim to be stalked, and now you believe you have these alter egos? It seems like you’re changing your story quite abruptly. You deny knowing Sebastian or Lola, yet you were acquainted with your mother, your neighbour, and even your college girlfriend—each of whom met a tragic end. You’re the common denominator in all these deaths!"

"I didn’t kill them!" Sylvester’s voice cracked with desperation as he protested, "It must be one of the personalities."

"That’s what you claim, Mr. Crowley. It must have been convenient for you, to live not one, but three different lives," Mr. Hamilton persisted, unyielding in his interrogation. "Working in the opera house provided the perfect cover. The acting, the costumes, and the make up!"

Feeling trapped and overwhelmed, Sylvester struggled to find his words. "I’ve already told you, I have no memory of it. I had no motive to kill anyone!"

"But you showed a clear sign of violence in prison. Was it because you thought no one was watching?" Mr. Hamilton pressed on relentlessly. "Was he going to be your next victim?"

"No!" Sylvester’s voice rose in frustration, the weight of uncertainty heavy in the air of the courtroom. After a moment of tense silence, he reluctantly added, "It was possibly the alter egos who..."

Mr. Hamilton fixed Sylvester with a steely gaze before finally demanding, "Then bring them forth."

"What?" Sylvester met the prosecutor’s unwavering stare, feeling the weight of the accusation bearing down on him. "I don’t have that control..."

"Why not? They are your personalities," Mr. Hamilton stated matter-of-factly and shrugged his shoulders.

"Your Honour, Mr. Crowley needs to be hypnotised to bring out those personalities," Charles voiced, drying to defend his client as the jury were looking at Sylvester unfavourably.

"Is that you telling that there’s another perpetrator who is controlling Mr. Crowley by hypnotising him and making him commit these crimes?" Mr. Hamilton questioned back. "Changing words just like your client."

"You are twisting my words Mr. Hamilton. I have told it before, my client suffers from a mental disorder and he committed these crimes without his knowledge!" Charles shot back.

"Do you know how you sound, Mr. Leary? I was closing my eyes and I threw a block at someone," Mr. Hamilton mocked him.

"Order! Order!" Judge Reynolds tried to bring the argument down.

"Your Honour," Mr. Hamilton started, "Mr. Leary expects us to depend on his proof that is given by a man who now rusts behind the prison bars. Teddy Walsham’s words are as good as useless, and we don’t know if he had collaborated with Sylvester to help him get out of there."

Charles began, "By putting him to sleep—"

"This is not a magic show, Mr. Leary," Judge Reynolds gave him a pointed look. "We expect you to bring concrete proof to the court and not out of imagination. If you have nothing more to say, the court will be taking a break and then get to the closing statement!"

A few reporters who had gotten their seats at the back of the courtroom profusely wrote every detail that was being said and the people’s reactions, ready to turn it into the next sensational news story.

Sylvester was nervous with the rest of them. Everyone knew that, with how things had gone down now, he would be sitting in the electric chair soon and there was literally nothing they could do about it.

Jane couldn’t help but feel if Judge Reynolds had turned even harsher with the way he was dealing with the defence after she had spoken to him. When she stepped out of the court to get a breather, the photographers and reporters stood outside, and questioned her,

"Miss Reinhart, did you and Mr. Crowley get engaged that you are siding with the guilty?"

"Did you know he was a murderer? Is he your type?" someone else asked, trying to get the gossip for tomorrow’s column. "Are you in love with him?"

Inside the courtroom, the victims family members had been attending the court, waiting for Sylvester to receive his death sentence. One them came to him and said in a low voice,

"Your eyes should be ripped out for what you did to my wife! I hope they rip your eyes out and give you the most gruesome death."

"Count your hours of living, boy!"

"How cruel could you be to kill our daughter? How could you do this?" a woman cried with grief.

Elizabeth came to stand next to her brother and whispered, "Don’t pay attention to them, Vester. Don’t listen."

But how could he not, Sylvester thought to himself. There were angry people. Sad people. Shouting and crying at him, and he was slowly losing his mind over it. This was the most he could handle and he was going to break down.

When the break was over, everyone returned to their seats in the courtroom. The judge spoke,

"This is the case of the state versus Sylvester Crowley. It is time for the closing statement. Is the prosecution ready?"

Mr. Hamilton rose from his seat and said, "Mr. Crowley has spun fanciful tales, much like his theatrical productions at the opera house. You’ve seen the grim evidence and heard the gruesome details. He’s responsible for the deaths of fifteen people, and possibly more. There hasn’t been a single proven case of split personality disorder in England."

He then continued, "It’s a figment of his twisted imagination, a convenient excuse to escape his crimes. It’s time to deliver justice for the victims and their families. Do not let this criminal escape justice. Let him face the electric chair and rid the world of his evil. Thank you."

Sylvester heard the prosecutor take his seat, while his own lawyer stood up to make his way to the jurors to put up his own closing statement.