"The Past and Present," by Riley Humphrey, '19

Sept. 18, 2018, Northfield, Mass.

You open the case file; it’s heavy in your hands. The manila folder is full of maps, photos, and black ink on typed reports. You take a deep breath: a whiff of old paper reaches your nose. The pages have already begun to decay with age. As you flip through the thin pages, you finally find the one you've been searching for. You pull it out and rest it on the table, closing the file. You know that this case will not be easy, but that doesn’t matter. You set the folder on the silver metal table. You take a closer look at the paper. The police testimony from the preliminary hearing. You read as the story unravels in your mind.

*

Sept. 18, 1935, Northfield, Mass.

Speer looked out the window and locked eyes with Grace Elder, still holding the shotgun. His face contorted with confusion and pain, then understanding as he stumbled away from the window.

Her legs finally broke free and she ran back behind the house, the cool September wind hitting her hot face. She clambered into Mr. Elder’s Buick Tour-Passenger Country Club Coupé and turned the key. The enormous two-seater chugged into action. She threw the car into first, and the tires squealed as she slammed her foot to the floor. Her arms were shaking. She drove and drove into the night until the car was surrounded by the darkness, and she was alone.

*

Sept. 20, 2018, Northfield, Mass.

You image what must have been said. What a mother capable of murder would tell her son… could tell her son, about such a deed. An impossible situation for all, you observe. You contemplate the feeling, the emotion, the pain that must have transpired in that very conversation. You think of what Mrs. Elder could have said:

*

Sept. 20, 1935, Northfield, Mass

“I'm so sorry that you got involved with this, but we are here in this position no matter.” - “I don't know how you must feel right now, and I can't stop you from using what I have told you as you please. I just wanted you, out of everybody in the world, to know the truth.”

Thomas’ eyes began to water as he swatted away his tears,

“Thank you for telling me, Mom. I would never turn you in. I just need some time to think.” He sat in his room, thinking long and hard of what could have happened. - What could have gone so wrong that the Elder family were stuck in such a state of disarray?

You could only imagine the reasons:

“I have not enjoyed it here for some time, and the way that Speer is treating you. We have to move. We can't stay here anymore: not like this.”

“Listen, Grace,” Mr. Elder said, “We can’t move without a letter of recommendation from Speer. Nobody would hire me without it. I think we are stuck here for good.”

*

Sept. 25, 2018, Northfield, Mass. - The Archives

You feel as though the case is coming together in your mind, and the pieces are falling into place. You sit back in the cheap wooden chair, the chipped pine creaks with your weight. The light flickers above your head as you think about motive. The archives room of the NMH library feels like it hadn't been changed since the murder. You believe you know what happened all those years ago. Mr. Elder is smart enough to know if he killed Speer he would already be in jail. It was someone else. Someone else in the family who had a stake in all this. You are finally unraveling the mystery that has been left unsolved all these years. The only question on your mind is - Where is the gun?

*

Sept. 25, 1935, Northfield, Mass.

The plan now was to get rid of the murder weapon. Would a high-school junior even know where or how to get rid of a murder weapon? Then; an idea formed for Thomas. He needed a place nobody would look. And even if they did, they would never be able to find the gun. The next morning Thomas woke before dawn. The air was frigid, and the sky still had the tint of night. He took the gun which was hidden under his parent's bed and put it over his shoulder. Nobody would look twice. He was on the riflery team after all. The dew on the grass soaked his feet as Thomas quickly walked to what was only a few yards away from where it had all taken place. He approached the grassy knoll behind Ford Cottage. The mound had been overrun with tall grass and small shrubs. Two barn-wood doors were sunk into the side of the hollow hill, providing access to the recesses beneath. He slammed the butt of the gun on the lock holding the wooden doors shut. A clink of the lock and a rattle of the chain was the only noise that morning, all else was dead quiet. He heaved the wooden door open and threw the gun in, watching it fade away into the darkness. He hoped then that it would stay there forever. He closed the door, put the lock back and walked away as casual as can be.

*

Sept. 26, 2018, Northfield, Mass.

You reopen the manila folder and examine a map. It's the map of the NMH campus. You scour the map. Where would the gun be? You read report after report of over 50 years of police logs. You pour over every word, every place that was checked and rechecked over the many years. You think all the places you would hide a gun have been checked. Everywhere had been checked, yet you know where the gun is. You had known all this time, it shouldn't have been right. You didn't want it to be right.

*

Jun. 10, 1992, Northampton, Mass.

After finishing his years at NMH, Thomas had tried put the murder behind him. His dad, having had lost his mind to the perpetual allegations, and the looks, died shortly after the murder. He led his life as well as he could. He never told another soul about what his parents, or what he had done during those frightful days. Then after years of thinking, after his mom had gone as well, he had come to a final decision. He had to do it. Like his mom had told him, he knew that he needed to tell someone the truth, who desperately needed it. He wrote a letter, addressed to the eldest son of Eliott Speer with directions for it to be delivered on the day of his death.

*

Sept. 26, 2018, Northfield, Mass.

You walk along the back road of campus. The closer you get to the house where Speer was shot the more real it feels. You see the back of the house, but you do not walk any farther. You stop in your tracks. You open your coat and take out a piece of paper. You unfold it gently, you read the handwritten letter given to you by your father.

To whom it may concern:

I, Thomas Elder Jr, hereby confess to the coverup of the murder of Eliott Speer. I did not commit this heinous crime nor did my father. This crime was one of hate and love. My mother in an attempt to give my father and my family a better life committed the murder in cold blood. As as for the weapon, that might be lost to time - I hid the shotgun in the…

You stop reading. You bat away a tear forming on the edge of your right eye. You fold the letter back up with care and place it back in your jacket pocket. You turn left and look at the barn-wood doors to the water hill. You take out your lockpicks and make quick work of the lock. With a - click - the lock springs open. You pull the lock off, and one at a time, open the now flimsy wooden doors. You look into the blackness of the water beneath. You pull off your coat and rest in on the grassy knoll. You dive. The freezing water engulfs you as you swim deeper and deeper. The silence is eerie. Soon you feel the bottom of mud and silt. You begin to search the bottom. You can't see your hand in front of your eyes. Your heartbeat pounds in your ear as you start to hiccup for air. You frantically sweep your hands through the mud searching. Right as you can't hold your breath any longer you hand hits something metal, you grab it and for that second everything stops - it’s the barrel of the gun.