Love Letters From the Grave

‘Mrs Olsen.’ Adams was once again reading from his list with a calmness that wasn’t reflected in his sad, wary eyes. ‘A customer. An innocent bystander. Yes, she was killed at the bank, along with …’ He totted up the names on his list with agonizing slowness. ‘… four police officers, two detectives and two of the bank’s employees. Moreover, in addition to your gang's leader, three police officers, three detectives, two customers, the bank guard and the bank manager were wounded. So that’s … what, fifteen people killed and eleven people wounded. That makes it one of the bloodiest crime events in the entire country since the Crash. I hope you’re proud of yourself, boy.’


Charlie shook his head, tears spilling down his cheek, numbed and confused by the carnage wrought during the attempted bank robbery. It was surreal - like a bad dream. It was almost impossible to believe that it had happened and that he was a part of it. He had not even thought of himself as a member of a "gang." And he certainly had not given a single thought to what consequences might result from robbing the bank. After all, he and Wendell were simply drivers of the get-away cars, and, unlike the other six members of the gang, were not even armed.

‘I was just the driver,’ he repeated. ‘I only wanted to drive the Packard.’

Adams watched him sadly. ‘How old are you, Charlie?’

‘Fifteen, sir.’

‘Fifteen.’ The man swallowed hard. ‘Well, you may be young but you will be tried as an adult. There is no question of you not being convicted for your part in thishorrific crime, even if you were only the driver, in your view. Moreover—? Adams swallowed again, clearly finding this harder than his demeanor suggested. ‘Moreover, you will almost assuredly be given the death sentence. There is absolutely no point in hoping for a different result. That gang of yours caused the deaths of six law-enforcement officers and three innocent bystanders. You cannot hope to avoid being executed in the electric chair, sometime before the end of the year.’

Charlie slumped into his chair. It was a living nightmare, and then when it ended he would go to Hell, where he belonged.

‘But I didn’t do anything,’ he cried in anguish. ‘I was just the driver. I didn’t know those men; I didn’t know what I was doing. It was just … just for the car and a hundred bucks.’

Adams could barely meet his eye. ‘You may believe that, Charlie,’ he said eventually, ‘and even I may believe that, but no judge or jury in the land is going to acquit you just because you didn’t know what you were doing. You’re going to the chair, son, and you’d better get used to the idea.’

Son. The word echoed around his brain. His father – Charles Senior. He’d know what to do. He’d believe his own son, the heir he trusted with running and expanding the farm.

‘Can I speak to … can’t my father be brought here?’

Adams exchanged glances with the sheriff who was leaning in the doorway, then consulted his scrap of paper again. He directed his words to the table, unable to look at Charlie.

‘Your father was brought here and told what you’d done. He was asked if he’d like to see you.’ Adams chewed his lip. ‘I’m afraid that he did not wish to see you. His exact words, I think, were that he has one son called William, who is working in the city, and five others back on the farm. He has no other son. No son called Charlie.’

‘He … he left?’ He’d gone without speaking to Charlie. Without helping him. But surely he must know that Charlie would never do anything like this if he’d known what he was doing? Surely? ‘Please! Get him to come back.’

Adams shook his head, that sad expression haunting his eyes again. ‘He’s disowned you, Charlie. I think you broke his heart. You’re on your own now.’



The trial was over in three days. Charlie sat with his eyes downcast throughout, unable to work out how this nightmare had overtaken his life – was about to end his life. An empty chair stood to one side of him, as Hepworth was too injured to attend the trial. To his right sat Mr Adams, quiet and measured, carefully taking notes and gently propping Charlie up whenever the pain of hearing about the murders at the bank threatened to topple him.

The prosecuting attorney presented a short, concise, straight-forward case, in which he asked the jury to return a verdict of guilty and a recommendation of the death penalty for both the surviving bank robbers. Charlie shook his head silently. Just a driver. Not even a regular driver – just doing someone he barely knew a favor, for the excitement of driving a Packard.

Hepworth was quickly convicted and sentenced to die in the electric chair, with the sentence to be carried out immediately upon his release from the prison hospital.

Then it was Charlie’s turn.

Adams tightened his tie and positioned himself solidly in the center of the court room.

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