Saturday, August 1, 2015
DRAGONFLY: PART THREE
By Daniel Skye
PART THREE: NOT FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION
Anthony stopped by after four o’clock as he promised, toting a VCR he’d commandeered from the station. Dorchester PD were in over their heads on this one and Anthony Carter was hoping his brother Richie and his unsavory connections could turn something up. They were looking for any information that could lead to potential suspects. But most of all, they were hoping to identify the girl on the tape.
Anthony gave his brother the tape and Richie invited him to stay for a while. It had been months since he’d seen his brother and he figured Anthony would be able to guide him through the tape. “I’ve seen it already,” Anthony said, shuddering at the very thought of the tape and its contents. “Once is enough to last me a lifetime.”
Anthony left, insisting it was best if Richie viewed the tape privately. And he soon understood why Anthony opted not to stick around.
Richie did have a television in his office, an old Sony from the nineties. It still worked, though it only picked up four or five channels. He hooked up the VCR, popped in the tape, and sat back in his desk chair, not knowing what to expect. Even if Anthony had braced him, it still wouldn’t have prepared him for what he was about to see.
Richie forced himself to watch the tape from beginning to end, observing the ghastly horror that unfolded over the course of three solid hours. Though Richie was fairly certain the tape had been edited, and the events he had witnessed did not transpire over the course of a few hours, but it was most likely filmed in the span of a few days.
The girl could’ve been eighteen. But she could’ve been fifteen or sixteen for all Carter knew. The footage was grainy and of poor quality, and Carter’s only conclusion was that the girl was young and clearly non-consenting.
In the video, the girl’s wrists and ankles were shackled to four separate bedposts. The room was dark and the footage was gritty, but it looked like the girl was being held in someone’s private den, possibly an attic or basement.
The tape cut in and out repeatedly, the girl appearing on her back in some shots, on her front in others. The girl had been stripped of her clothing and personal belongings, and was forced to lie there naked as the day she came into this world. This only augmented her state of vulnerability, and the sight of this helpless girl, humiliated and visibly terrified, made Carter’s stomach churn.
She cried, whimpered, begged, and pleaded with her four masked tormenters, who refused to grant her mercy. They took turns savagely beating, flogging, burning and cutting, violating, and maiming this poor girl in every way imaginable.
Richie’s job, and his time spent in state correctional facilities, helped him gain many shady, questionable connections throughout the years. Among these connections were known pornographers and purveyors of the underground fetish market. But Richie needed no consultation to verify the legitimacy of this tape.
There wasn’t a shred of doubt that lingered. This was no simulation. You can’t fake something that brutal, that intense.
This footage was clearly never intended for public consumption.
As for where the tape came from, that was a whole other story. And it was going to be a long few days for Richie Carter.
Richie felt funny about taking money from his brother, but he realized they were in a recession and in the end, money was money, no matter whose pocket it came from. Besides, it wasn’t like he was accepting charity. He was getting paid to do a job. And the horrors he’d witnessed earlier had given him all the motivation he needed to solve this case.
The money Anthony had left him was going to come in handy. Information isn’t always free. But if you need the scoop on all the latest dirt in Dorchester, look no further than Dolph Hendricks. Dolph was a virtual sleaze magnet with tons of seedy connections, and he had his hands in everything from drugs to pornography to the sale of unregistered firearms. It was a wonder he was still on the street. Though Dolph had seen his share of prison cells.
Richie used some of the money to buy a bottle of top shelf bourbon for Dolph. Dolph was a jailhouse stoolie who’d sell his own mother down the river for a nickel. But Dolph wouldn’t just snitch for money, he’d snitch for booze too. In fact, booze was his preferred method of payment.
As soon as his greasy fingers clasped that bottle of Kentucky bourbon, Dolph took a swig and started singing.
“I don’t know anything about no snuff film like you asked on the phone, but if you’re looking for guys that like to beat up on girls, I’ve got two names that come to mind–Mac Wilson and Nico Cirico. I did some time with them up in Riverhead. Shared a cell with Mac. In fact, Mac was there for solicitation and battery. Beat up a hooker if memory serves me correct.”
“So he’s got a track record of hitting women?”
“Not just him. Nico too. They used to brag about it all the time. Trade stories. It’s like they got off on it or something. Sick fucks, I tell ya.”
“Do you know where I could find either of them?”
“Try a phonebook, I guess. Nico got out before I did and Mac was still there when I left, but he’s probably out by now. Nico had a brother, but I can’t remember his name. Dan or Don or Dean or something like that. Oh man, this is gonna drive me crazy. What was his name? Dom. That’s it. Nico called him Dom. I guess that’s short for Dominic.”
“Excellent guess,” Richie said, jotting all the names down in his notepad.
“If I’m not mistaken, I think I overheard Nico saying once that his brother lived in Dorchester. Could be worth checking out.”
“Man, that Mac was a prick. Had a heart as cold as ice. Just being around him gave me the creeps.”
“Is that all you can remember? Was there anything they told you specifically? Anything about a girl they might have harmed together?”
“Like I said, the guy really hated women. That kind of talk was not uncommon. But like I also said, the guy was a prick. I only talked to him as much as I had to. Otherwise, I kept to myself.”
“Thanks,” Richie said, pocketing his notepad. He started to walk away when Dolph called out to him.
“Hey, I just remembered something.”
Richie walked back and took ten dollars from his pocket. “Keep your money,” Dolph said, taking another swig of bourbon. “This one is on the house. I remember Mac and Nico bragging about this girl they ‘did’ one time out in Fairview. Nadia. I don’t know what they meant by that, but it didn’t sound like pillow talk to me. I think they really hurt this girl. Maybe even killed her.”
“Nadia? You sure that was her name?”
“I’m positive,” Dolph said, shaking his head yes.
“You have a last name for the girl?”
“Afraid not. They never mentioned it.”
“It’s alright. You’ve given me more than enough to go on. Enjoy the hooch, Dolph. See you around.”
“Hey, there’s something else. Someone Mac used to talk about all the time. Someone he used to speak highly of. He never told me the guy’s name though. All he said was that the guy saved him. Nico knew him too. They called him The Outsider.”