Good evening, House of Madness chameleons:
Many of us fantasize or are at the very least curious about what it would feel like to be an entirely different person. Would you choose to be LeBron James and dominate the playing field? Perhaps becoming a successful businessman like Richard Branson is more your speed, counting endless piles of cash as you fly the skies while talking on your $8,000,000,000 cellphone made of gold encrusted Lego, just because you can. What about a stint as Greta Thunberg, standing up to the 'Big Guys' while you pour your heart and soul into making a real difference in the world? Personally, I think I might choose Chester Cheetah, because I'm sick of always having orange powdered fingers I can't conceal with fur, and lets be honest - those things are fucking delicious. The possibilities are endless, and as fun as it sounds becoming someone else, what if someone secretly became you?
Flint City, Oklahoma isn't just your standard small town, it's a place where the world almost stands still, while the everyday happenings and nuances in life transpire in effortless tranquility. A place people can truly call 'home' without having to worry about locking their doors, owning a gun, or letting their kids go to to the park unsupervised. Well, that was the case until 12 year old Frankie Peterson's body was found brutally raped, murdered and desecrated. Not only has something like this never happened before in Flint City, but such a brutal act would make a homicide detective in New York City lose their lunch and bless themselves. The only thing even stranger than the unimaginable act itself, is the fact that the killer went to almost zero lengths to conceal his identity, and the horrific crime was so brazen that he surely must be a stranger from out of town, or just downright stupid.
Terry Maitland is neither foreign to Flint City, nor stupid; in fact, he's a phys-ed teacher at the local school, and coaches or has coached almost the entire town's children in baseball, basketball, or football at some point in his life. Terry Mailtland isn't just revered as a 'nice guy' in town either, he's downright adored by the populous, and the closest thing he's ever done to breaking the law was that time he parked for three minutes while he ran an errand, and didn't feed the meter. However, not only do multiple credible eyewitnesses put him near the scene of the crime, one of them states she saw him helping Frankie load his broken bicycle in the back of a white van, while the two drove away towards where poor Frankie's body was found. If that wasn't damning enough, Terry's fingerprints are all over the van, murder weapon, and clothing of the deceased little boy. This is the easiest open and shut murder case detective Ralph Anderson has ever heard of in his entire career, even though it's also the only homicide case he's ever had to be a part of. Sure, crime happens in Flint City, but petty theft and domestic disturbances are a far cry from child murder. Not only does Ralph plan on arresting Terry Maitland, but he's going to do it at the baseball diamond where Terry is coaching, making a spectacle of Terry for the entire crowd to see. There's absolutely no chance Terry is innocent, so let's not play nice, and do things the humiliating way.
Terry is arrested, and is not only dumbfounded at the horrific accusations, but is adamant of his innocence, professing his case from the rooftops for everyone to hear. Nice try Terry, but with the fingerprints and eyewitnesses to corroborate his guilt, the DNA evidence found at the scene will be back in a matter of days, and there's no disputing DNA. Right? Terry not only proclaims his innocence, but he has what he deems a rock solid alibi for the time of the crime - he was more than an hour and a half out of town at a work seminar, has the receipts to boot, and he also has friends and colleagues that attended the event with him ready to authenticate his presence every step of the way. Detective Anderson isn't worried, the evidence is stacked twenty miles high, and this bozo that fooled an entire town for decades is going to pay the piper.
There's a slight problem; not only are there four very credible people that vouch for every minute of Terry's attendance that fateful day, but there is also video surveillance from the seminar he was attending in which Terry is captured several times. What the actual fuck is going on here? How can one man be in two places as the exact same goddamn time? It's not only impossible, it's completely unimaginable. There's no denying the evidence mounted against Terry, yet there's also no abrogating his alibi, as it's tighter than a nun's........belt. There's absolutely no turning back either, as Ralph's triumphant public apprehension of 'the monster' can never be reversed, and what's done is done.
The only other explanation that presents itself is something otherwordly or supernatural, and Ralph will be six feet under himself before he gives in to such ridiculous rhetoric. Even if there's a microscopic chance Ralph has the wrong guy, and somehow all those people that saw Terry with Frankie were wrong, how can anyone counter fingerprints and confirmed DNA evidence found at the crime scene? Either Terry Maitland is actually David Copperfield, or the sinister suspicions that Ralph can't admit open a door to a reality that couldn't possibly be part of our own, because if the supernatural really does exist, how the fuck can Ralph ever justify natural order ever again? Detective Anderson needs help in a bad way, and it's high time he called in the 'big guns' to bring a fresh perspective to his investigation. Is Ralph ready for a second set of eyes, and if so, is he capable of being convinced that the impossible is capable of happening? Well if anyone has experienced the impossible first-hand, it's Holly Gibney, and she just may be Frankie Peterson and all of Flint City's only chance at finding the truth. The main obstacle won't be discovering the real evil behind the crime, but getting Ralph Anderson to listen to it will be a challenge that even Ms. Gibney might find too difficult to conquer, and an ancient evil could walk away scot-free, even though his name isn't even really Scott........well, not today anyways.
If Stephen King suddenly decided that he wanted to retire and just write restaurant menus every day, I'd abandon every novel on my list of future endeavors, and read about all the delicacies of Maine starting with the appetizers, even if I am an considered an 'outsider' there.
Madness Meter: 8.3/10
NB
