For Jane, And Others

It was a rainy Tuesday morning.

Usually, on mornings like this, the class would be scanty; not many of the students fancied getting drenched just so they could attend one of their numerous boring classes.

This morning was different. It was a practical anatomy class, first of its kind for the second year medical forensics students. The lab was full; nobody wanted to miss the first experience of cutting through a human cadaver.

The professor, with the help of the morgue attendant had prepared the lab prior to the arrival of the students. A somewhat fresh female cadaver lay motionlessly on the examination slab. It was the body of a girl child. She could not have been older than twelve years when she died.

The students’ moods soon changed when the professor told them about how the body ended up as an unclaimed cadaver being used as a teaching manual by the anatomy department.

She was brought in a week earlier by the police, after she was found dead in the early hours of the day on the roadside, few yards from the university’s main gate. The departmental coroner attributed cause of death to trauma resulting from multiple blows to her head and a perforated uterine wall. A thorough autopsy revealed that she had been raped and brutally assaulted in the process of her resistance. The rapist had raped her to his satisfaction, and afterwards hit her severally on the head with a dense material, possibly a club or a heavy rock. Also, something that left the impression of an iron rod was forcefully inserted deep into her vagina, perforating her uterine wall in the process.

The tissue samples found under her long nails suggested she had severely scratched and injured her attacker. As a result, he got livid and excessively violent. The police had put in a lot of efforts in trying to locate her relatives, but it had all proved futile. Also, no missing person report matching her identity had been filed within the last week. So, there she was, lying gracefully on the coroner’s table with nothing on her entire body but a tag attached to her big toe that read “JANE DOE”.

Most of the students were already teary-eyed by the time the professor finished telling Jane’s story. He decided to indulge their emotions, and went ahead to ask them what their thoughts were on the matter. He thought, perhaps, that would liven up the class.

Indeed, their responses did bring the class back to life. The students that talked mostly lamented on the treacherousness of the crime. They all wished he rapist would be caught and made to face the full wrath of the law.

Amidst all the lamentations, the professor could not help but notice one of the students who was all by himself. He had been quiet the whole time, and his face lacked any form of expression as he continuously stared at the body on the table.

“Hello mister. You’ve been awfully quiet since we started this discussion. Don’t you have anything on your mind to say?”

“I do sir. But I’m not sure you all will like to hear it.” The student replied.

A frown appeared on the professor’s face as he stared at the student. He became curious as to what the student might have to say.

“Please do tell us mister. I’m sure your colleagues are as curious as I am to hear what you have to say.”

“Okay then”, the student shrugged and started to talk.

“To begin with, unlike my colleagues, I do not support that the rapist be caught by the police and made to face the law.”

The entire class grew very silent upon hearing this. Everyone kept their eyes fixed on him. They were all trying to decipher if he was actually trying to be in support of the rapist or not. No one interrupted him. He was given the benefit of doubt and allowed to continue talking.

So, he continued.

“Looking at this body lying here, I can’t begin to describe to you all how incredibly infuriated I am. The paedophile rapist that did this to this young girl does not deserve jail. He deserves something else, something much more appropriate. I could not help but imagine if this girl was my sister, or daughter, and the kind of horrible fate she has met in the hands of an animal parading himself as a man. Sir, the things I would do to him are beyond imaginable.”

“If you don’t think he deserves jail, what then do you think he deserves? Death? You would take laws into your own hands? Tell us what you would do.”

“These are the kind of things I don’t mind getting my hands dirty over. If someone does this to someone I know, say a sister, daughter, niece or cousin, I will devote every resources within my reach to finding him. The crime doesn’t even have to be this bad before I take action. If he crawls into a hole, I will find him. If the police have him in custody already, I will do everything within my power to get him out. When I finally have him within reach, I would find a way to administer to him a mild sedative; it could be through a drink. He would not even know he was being watched. After the sedative takes effect, I would get him to a safehouse. If I cannot find a way to achieve the sedative plan, I’d just arrange for him to be picked up forcefully, and delivered to me. I have connections that can do that for me. Once I have possession of him, I will have him firmly secured to a slab, just like the one this girl’s body is lying on presently. This is when the real business starts.” He paused, and continued.

“First, I would force a cup of orange juice mixed with a very small amount of industrial pesticide down his throat. That won’t kill him just yet, but it would cause him a severe stomach discomfort. Before I set to work on him, I’d give him a shot of adrenaline to ensure his heart does not give out from the pain he’s about to experience. Each of his ten fingers would be hosts to long sewing needles inserted from the tip of each finger all the way in. In case he is thinking of passing out from the excruciating pain in his fingers, he will be jolted back to reality with electric shocks to his testicles. I’d remove those testicles afterwards with a scalpel. A pair of pliers is what I’d use to yank off his penis. Using a sharp kitchen knife to cut it off would have been too merciful. The same pliers would have gotten rid of his fingernails earlier. He would beg to die, but he wouldn’t die just yet, at least not before I have forced him to swallow his two testicles. He doesn’t have to chew them; just swallowing them is fine by me. Thereafter, I’d shove his penis shaft down his throat. At least, half the length of my baseball bat would go into his anus without any form of lubrication to aid it. By this time, he would be half-dead, too weak to shout, yet too hurt not to help but groan softly. The only other sound in the room would be the sound of his blood dripping on the makeshift linoleum covering on my floor. I’d probably have mercy on him at this point and just slit his wrists and watch him bleed out his remaining pathetic life. That might take a while, so I’d just fix myself a drink while I wait and watch. When all that is done, he would have experienced what real pain feels like, and I’m sure he would not be molesting anyone ever again.”

The whole class looked on at him in awe as he spelt out these details without mincing words. No one could bring themselves to talk for a while after he had finished talking.

“Wow!” The professor retorted. “What is your name young man?”

“Sebastian. Sebastian Akanni.”

“That is quite a vivid well-planned course of action you just described. You must have been thinking about this for a while.”

“I have always hated paedophiles sir. I only hope to get my hands on one. I need to make a good example.”

“What I think you need is professional help; anger management type, and probably some spiritual counselling.”

Sebastian shrugged and muttered something that was not audible enough for anyone in the class to hear.

“I’ve only read about people like you”, the professor continued, “I didn’t think they were real.”

“We are real when it’s useful.”

The class continued from there as normal, and the students soon forgot about the tragic story of the girl and Sebastian’s disturbing narrative.

Two weeks later, at the start of the same class, the professor announced to the students that a suspect for the girl’s rape and murder was in police custody a week earlier, but had been released on bail due to lack of substantial evidence to file a charge against him.

As he made the announcement, he noticed a faint smile across Sebastian’s face and the coldness rooted deeply in his eyes. He worried for the student, and more particularly, for the suspect.

He became more worried a week later when he received word that the police had lost contact with the suspect, with the suspicion that he had jumped bail. That same week, he had noticed Sebastian was missing from his class. He thought to report his worries to the police, but he brushed it off after he had a deep rethink about it and decided that the student could not have been serious enough to pull off his supposed revenge plan. Moreover, the dead girl had no form of relationship with Sebastian, so, he would have no reason to avenge her murder.

Two days later, the police brought in another mutilated body to the anatomy morgue. This time, it was that of an adult male, probably in his mid-thirties. He had been brutally murdered. He had multiple lacerations on his body. Needles were found inserted into each of his fingers, and all his fingernails were absent.

What was more peculiar about the body was that the genitals had been severed with a blunt instrument. It was later on the coroner discovered the man’s penis had been jammed into his throat. He found openings on his wrists too. What the coroner could not understand was the words carved neatly into his chest with a sharp object.

When the professor was called upon for further examination of the body, he froze when he saw the words carved into the cadaver’s chest. “FOR JANE, AND OTHERS” brought back clearly to his memory his encounter with Sebastian.

He knew in his heart he owed the police a call; a call that should have been made a week earlier. Obviously shaken all over, he dashed to his office to grab his phone.

 

Akinpelu, Adewunmi O.

25/03/2017       13:28



2 thoughts on “For Jane, And Others” by Adewunmi Akinpelu (@Daewooo)

  1. I smiled as I read your torture tactics, it reminded me of something my wife once said, “A writer is what the writer writes”. Nice one.

  2. I love this from start to finish. Had me spell bound. Though I knew from the title that it would be a story about rape but didn’t expect this twist.
    Bravo! Kudos!

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