It Could Happen To You

Christmas time. The time of goodwill and cheer. The time of warmth and of love and of celebration. Well, for some people, yeah. Not for Joe Shmoe. Joe was just your average Jew from New York. Lived in a semi-expensive apartment, worked for a firm that used him as a slave, had annoying relatives, and hated both Khalid Mohammed and Louis Farrakhan. He looked out of the apartment--another lonely Christmas.

Well, he didn't really believe in Christmas so it was just another lonely holiday. Actually it wasn't going to be that lonely. He'd give his sister a call in Los Angeles, as he did every Christmas, and then probably go to Manny's grill for the Christmas ball. Maybe he'd get lucky and score. Talking about scoring, he'd actually met the mayor's daughter earlier that week. Cute girl, but she had breast implants.

His mother had passed several years back--she used to live with him. He had several acquaintances, but none you could really call a friend. Not except if you counted Susan, the administrative assistant from work. They had a lot in common and she was the only one he could call on the phone just to talk and get some steam off. He didn't really need that many friends anyway. As long as his sister was there, he was alright. He looked out of his window and tried to count how many snowflakes fell within a ten-second span.

It was somewhere between twenty seven and two thousand. He laughed out loud. This year had been especially good to him in a way. He'd gotten the raise--something he didn't even dream of as a programmer-analyst for Goldman, Okogun and Sachs. He was just about finished paying his student loans, and he was even looking into buying a small house in New Jersey. He looked at the clock. He'd been in all day. That wasn't a good thing on Christmas day. Maybe he'd brave the cold and take a walk in the snow before he called his sister. And then if he felt like it he'd, for yet another year, go to Manny's for the ball.

Last year he hit big and brought home a nice looking female. He later found out, much to his chagrin, that she was a minor--not even seventeen yet. The girls of today are growing way too fast, and putting on way less clothes than they used to. Well, since no one found out about it he more or less used her for a month or so, and then let her go. No sense in getting charged with statutory rape. It was one of those things he could consider a skeleton in his cupboard--but we all have those.

Just silly little things we have done. Nothing major. After all, if you saw the girl, she looked at least twenty five, and she never really told him how old she was. He just happened to have seen her ID card by mistake the other day. Oh well. Life goes on. Like most people, he'd asked that if God would get him out of that spot of trouble without any fuss, he wouldn't do it again. I guess we all do that at least once in our lives. And then when we really need God to help us, we've used up our chance. He put on his coat, grabbed his gloves. It was seven-thirty and he was going for a walk.

"Merry Christmas" the old woman greeted him. "Hmm? yeah." he mumbled. Not many people out tonight he observed. Why should they be? He walked about five blocks when the cold really began to get to him. This was stupid. He should be home by his fire. He could have put on TV or something or done some programming. He looked at his watch, but the snow was falling so hard he couldn't see what time it was.

He estimated it was about eight p.m and decided to return home. He got back into his building, really flustered from running the last block--the cold really didn't spare him at all. While hyperventilating and red in the face, he nodded a Christmas greeting to the doorman and found his way to the elevator. He was somewhat dizzy and he staggered quite a bit. He looked at the clock when he got to his apartment and it was almost eight-thirty. He decided that he'd take a little nap before calling his sister. He wasn't feeling too well. Perhaps he wouldn't go to Manny's after-all. The guys there would notice, he knew, but who cared?

He awoke the next morning, really pissed with himself. He looked at the answering machine and saw that his sister had left a message. He didn't bother to retrieve it. Instead, he just cursed his way to the bathroom and decided to face the new day with a nice, refreshing brush. He brought out the Colgate toothpaste and proceeded with the deed.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Didn't whoever it was know how to ring a doorbell?

He walked over and opened the door. "Yes?"

"Mr. Joe Shmoe?"

"Yes."

"I'm superintendent Davis, NYPD and this is Sergeant Reilly. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Er me? Sure... come in" He examined their IDs.

"First let me say that if you wish you might have your attorney present."

"Er no. I mean...what do you want to ask?" He was confused.

"We'd like you to give us an account of where you were last night."

Boy oh boy.

"Well ok. I was home all day. And then I took a walk at night for a bit.. and"

"At what time?"

P>"I think it was about seven, seven-thirty."

"And when did you return?"

"Lemme see about eight thirty."

The two police officers looked at each other for a second.

"Did anyone see you during the walk?"

"Not that I can remember."

"Sir I think you'd better come with us to the station."

"What? What is going on here?"

"We'd just like to ask you a few more questions in greater detail that's all."

"Er. This is ridiculous really. At least if you'd tell me what was going on I'd have more concise information for you."

"Sir"

"Alright, alright. One second let me put on something decent."

Thank goodness he'd brushed his teeth at least. This was certainly very inconvenient. He looked outside. It wasn't snowing.

They were in a room in the station and it smelled like urine. "Ok, you say you took a walk at seven-thirty? Why?"

"Well, I was bored. I just wanted to get out of the house." How many times would he explain to this moron.

"Aha. Your doorman said you seemed scared when you came back in. Why do you think he said this, Mr. Shmoe?"

"Scared? I might have been exhausted but I wasn't scared. I ran back.."

"Why?"

"Well it was cold and..."

"Aha. So you took a walk because you couldn't wait to get out of the house, and then you ran back? Is that it?"

"Well I don't understand what you're getting at... I mean."

"One second."

A third officer, one of the two who had come to his house that morning entered the room and whispered something to the questioning officer. Joe could pick out the words "description" and "witness."

The questioning officer took a deep breath.

"Joe Shmoe. You are hereby charged with the murder of Julia Ross"

THE MAYOR'S DAUGHTER!

"You have the right to remain silent. You have"

"That's absurd! This is totally insane!"

"..the right to an attorney. Anything you say ..."

"What is going on here? What is this?"

"...can and will be used against you in a court of law."

He could not believe any of this. He folded his arms and began weeping silently as the officer droned on.

There was a lot of media coverage during the trial. It was just like a bad dream. Two witnesses testified that they had seen someone fitting Joe's description around the crime scene at the time of the murder--eight o clock. Joe could not produce the mystery woman who he later claimed had seen him during his walk. Testimony from the prosecution, effective too, showed Joe as some sort of crazed psycho who liked to have sex with minors (and yes, they brought in his teenage Christmas fling as a witness, whereupon she testified in what Joe felt was a negative fashion).

Later on, the prosecution was able to produce evidence, somehow, that someone fitting Joe's description had purchased the same type of gun which was used in the slaying, though the actual weapon was never found. For some odd reason, Joe had not called his sister that night, as he did every Christmas. He left his apartment and came back running and staggering. The doorman was even able to recall seeing "some stains" on Joe's coat. The very effective prosecution was able to match the blood type at the scene of the crime to Joe's. The defense did try to show that all there was circumstantial evidence. The jury deliberated for the longest six hours of Joe’s life and came out with a verdict.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?"

"Yes we have your honor."

"Clerk please read the verdict."

"In the matter of The People versus Joe Shmoe, one the count of premeditated murder we find the defendant guilty."

"Are you all of one accord and charge?"

All members of the jury nodded as they looked disgustedly at Joe.

Hell of a time to be convicted of murder in New York state when they had just brought back the death penalty. Joe thought he would go insane.

The judge gave the final ruling and it was set. Joe was to be executed by electric chair. He was carted off to death row while his lawyers decided to try to file an appeal, as well as work on finding the lady who saw Joe that night. Meanwhile, Susan, Joe's sometime friend, had sold her story to The National Enquirer and had quit her job. She was the only one, it seemed, who was able to see Joe's psychopathic side even when everyone else had thought him normal. She knew there was always something sinister about him. He had no friends and did not go out much. But he was a man who kept tradition, which was why she knew something was wrong when he did not show up at Manny's that fateful night.

Joe spent half the time crying in his cell, and the other half praying earnestly to God for the mystery witness to show up. Eventually all appeals where exhausted and it was time to be executed. He was to be executed at midnight with relatives of the murdered girl present as well as state witnesses. There were the usual protests by the anti-death people, which did not make Joe feel any better as he walked under heavy police protection, past the barricaded crowd of protesters, reporters and curious on-lookers to the facility. What a nice word. Facility. Life-taking facility.

Two hours to go and Joe got word that his lawyers had produced the mystery witness. The execution was to go on as planned, but at that very moment his lawyers where with the prosecution and the judge who was conducting a hearing on whether to allow the new witness to testify, granting the extraordinary circumstances. At quarter to midnight, Joe's heart still beating from the news, he was led to the chair where he was strapped. He still could not believe this was happening. He looked through the window and saw his sister.

Tears came to his eyes, and hers too for she knew Joe was innocent. She just knew it, but she was a minority. Everyone else in the room looked scornfully at Joe. He wished he could tell them that he was sorry about their daughter, but he wasn't responsible, but there was no time for that. Midnight came quick, and Joe was now calm.

This was it.

The executioner walked in the room and the doctor came and proceeded to make sure Joe was very alive--perhaps so that he could feel the shock to the best of his ability, or something. Just at that moment a state dispatcher entered the room carrying and envelope for the executioner. It had the seal of New York on it! The executioner opened it and read the contents intently. One of the state officials asked what it contained.

"Oh, it's that mystery witness."

Joe's heart began beating fast.

"She testifies that she did see Mr. Shmoe walking that night."

Joe could not believe it!

"She also testifies that she was the one who gave Jesus the five loaves and two fish, as well as she was the one responsible for the last earthquake in California. Oh well, nothing changes."

The lights dimmed for a second and then were back up to full speed.

"Must be that criminal" Mrs Englewood said to her husband.

"Hmm." He couldn't care about some psycho being electrocuted. He looked at the newspaper to see what time the game was on the next day. As far as he was concerned, just put all the psychos to death and America would be safe again. The justice system was not doing it's job as it should. No indeed it was not.

The end