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Monologue Mania Day # 1842-1843 Open Doors by Janet S. Tiger (c) for Mar. 12-13, 2019
A monologue by Janet S. Tiger
(c) 2019 all rights reserved firstname.lastname@example.org
(c) 2019 all rights reserved email@example.com
(The man is not too old, but looks worn. He listens, then nods his head, then shakes it.)
What happened? Who knows? All I can tell you is my story.
I told them I didn't do it. Why did I tell them that?
Because I didn't do it.
I mean, me and my wife, we had disagreements. She'd throw things at me, and slam doors, and I....I gotta admit, I did smack her a few times. I figured, she broke stuff, I could smack her. But hurt her, no way. Rape her, beat her? No Way! ....Hurt our baby....no way......
But even though the baby died, she survived. She was in bad shape, but she got better .... And then, after a few months, she said she remembered what happened, and that it was me.
I told them....it wasn't me. I went out to get something to eat.
Somebody beat her head, and she wasn't remembering things right.
I took a polygraph. The test said I was telling the truth, but it didn't matter in court. Those only matter if it looks like you lied.
And she ....she was a good witness. I don't hold it against her, you know. She was hurt bad by whoever did it.
Eight years. I was in eight years before they said I could go for parole. Hard time. Harder than the Marines. There was only one catch.
I had to admit I did it.
And I couldn't do that. I mean, I ain't no saint. I have lied in my life. Did I take the cookies from the cabinet? No, Mom.....that was Toby, my little brother.......No, honey, I wasn't screwing around, I was... out with the boys......
But I never lied about important stuff. Not this.
I didn't hurt my wife. And even if it meant staying in prison, then......that's what I had to do.
And I thought about killing myself. It’s not hard to do that in prison. I was close. And then.....one day.....
.....I get a call from a detective who's looking at some cold cases. He thinks, maybe, that the person who killed seven other women in our state......one woman just three blocks from where we lived......maybe that person might have been the one that hurt my wife.
Why was he calling me? Because I had refused parole. And he felt that people who refused parole - two times - well, maybe their story should be heard. He asked me a coupla questions, and said he'd get back to me after they ran some DNA.
By that time, DNA testing was way more advanced. Back in the 70s, they knew about DNA, but they couldn't test like now. In the 70s, the only thing they tested for me was my blood type, turned out to be same as the killer. Not good for me.
So I decided not to kill myself. Not that week at least. And another miracle happened. When they ran the DNA, it turned out....the guy was already in jail, and he was on death row for killing other women. The detective went to talk to him, and asked about my case.....the guy was quiet, and then he said.....I did that one. I heard the guy who got sent up was a Marine, and I'm sorry about that.'
(Shakes his head)
He confessed. Because we were brothers.
They had to test one more time that the DNA was his and not mine, and......four hours after the results came back.....they let me go......
Sixteen years. It's a long time.
But my wife....she remarried. And I remarried, and I have two kids. And they are amazing. And I work at helping other guys find out if the DNA can clear them. And that's my story......
(Turns to leave, stops, looks back)
But it's not the whole story. No, I didn't rape my wife.....I didn't beat my wife.....but......I still have guilt.
Why? Because ....my wife and I....we'd just had a fight. She'd thrown a dish at me, and I'd slapped her. And when I left to go get something to eat, I was mad.....and I walked out....and I left the front door open. ....and the Jack-in-the-box near our house was busy, so I kept driving, and I went and got some damn tacos
(Hard to say)
The guy, the other Marine.....he heard us arguing, and he waited for me to leave....and he....came to the front door, and he.....(almost crying, but not) ....opened that front door, and he walked in.....because the door was unlocked!.......and she was in bed and the light was behind him, and she thought it was me, and he.....bashed in her head with a rock......and he.....did those things, and he killed our baby……and she thought it was me!.........
Sixteen years. I was mad for a lot of it, and depressed, and I didn't even know that had I locked the front door......maybe....none of it would've happened......Maybe.....
(He exits, standing straighter as he leaves)
This is based on a true story. Click here for more details
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