Don't Let Morning Come
5:49
5:49 - Redundant
We're living in repetition
Content in the same old shtick again
Now the routine's turning to contention
Like a production line going over and over and over
Roller coaster
Now I cannot speak
I lost my voice
I'm speechless and redundant
Cause I love you's not enough
I'm lost for words
Why do half the songs have to take me back to those miserable times? I'm still listening to the old CDs, and remembering. Me and Jakob loved hearing them when we were little. We could never really sing, nothing like our Dad anyway, but it was still fun. My Uncle Mike used to get us to sing them at parties. It wasn't embarrassing, because we all knew the adults were so drunk, they'd have forgotten by the next morning. I don't want to go back to the days after Frankito's murder; I want to remember all the good times. Perhaps that will make today easier to bear. I want to remember Jakob as my baby brother, not the thin, cowering figure we saw a few months ago. He wouldn't talk, he wouldn't sing. He just looked at me, his sunken eyes begging me to make everything alright again. And I couldn't, I've tried. After we found my Mum, I thought I'd fall apart. But I didn't. I took care of my Dad, I visited Jakob, I spoke to reporters. It's amazing how you manage to hold in all those emotions for thirteen years, only for them to spill out in one night. I'm crying now, sobbing noisily under the dusty sheets. All the tears from when Jakob was arrested, and my Mum drowned. All the tears from when I was a kid, and my Dad was never there, away touring and all that, they're all spilling over. And I'm drowning in them, I can't breathe. Why did I have to give in to tears tonight? On the one night when all I want to do is remember. I didn't cry when they found the body in the lake, I didn't cry at Jakob's trial. So why am I crying now? Nothing's changed, people die every day. Only today I know who is going to die, and how it's going to happen. Look at it like that Joey, keep singing, don't give in again.
***
The days flashed past after my Mum died. The months leading up to Jakob's trial were a surreal blur of visitors. Everyone came over, my Gran, Uncle Mike, my Dad's mate Jason. Sometimes I wished they would clear off and let silence wash over me, then maybe I could sort my mind out before the trial. But I was thankful, because as long as there was a constant stream of visitors, the bottles of drink in the kitchen remained untouched. I knew my Dad was aching to go and pour the vile stuff down his neck, and let it cloud all the memories until he could sleep again. But I wouldn't let him. I don't know why, I kind of fancied a drink myself. I didn't though, I couldn't.
The night he found her body, my Dad turned all the family photographs to face the walls. He said he didn't want to look at them, but you weren't supposed to hide away pictures of your dead wife, or be so ashamed of your son that you couldn't look at him. I suppose it made perfect sense, but at the time it seemed ridiculous. I didn't want to see the back of the frames, the emptiness of the wood only reminded me of how empty the house had become. There was no chirpy little voice telling me jokes, nobody telling me to tidy my room. And much as I'd moaned about both, I'd have given anything to hear them again. It seemed everything we'd ever hoped for had crashed down around us. And the worst part was, we never saw Uncle Tre anymore, or Ramona. I knew Ramona hated Frankito, but she must have loved him deep down. Like when we were little, and Jakob had told our Mum my scam to get more Christmas presents. Those days seemed a whole eternity ago. Time after time I wanted to talk to Ramona, but I never dared. I thought she might slam the door in my face, or give me a good slap. And I knew I probably deserved it. I should have stopped him. But I'd promised Jakob I'd apologise for him, and I wanted to do it before the trial. Or I knew I never would.
"I'm going for a walk" I told my Dad. I don't think he heard me. He was curled up in a ball, his knees under his chin, on the sofa. Had he been more alert, the feeble 'walk' excuse would have made him cry. But he didn't even flinch. It was like a dagger in my heart though, and I was sobbing uncontrollably on the way to Tre's house. The papers had been saying he's become a drunk, that he couldn't look after himself, never mind Ramona. I didn't really want to find out if it was true. But before I knew it, I was standing in front of the familiar, oak door. I felt dead small standing there, knowing whatever happened; I wasn't going to be welcome. I wondered how quiet their house must have seemed, without Frankito's constant shouting and swearing and coming home with drunken friends.
"What do you want" Ramona snapped tearfully, "My Dad doesn't want any of you lot here"
I hadn't even noticed I'd knocked the door, or that it had been opened.
"I wanted to see you" I mumbled, "We're friends"
Her face softened slightly as she stepped outside.
"No we're not Joey" she said softly, "I know Frankito wasn't an angel, but he didn't deserve that. My Dad doesn't know what's happened; he didn't know half the stuff he got up to. Frankito was still my little brother, and I want to see his killer punished"
My throat tightened in fear. Ramona knew everything that had gone on, the five of us had no secrets. She knew about Jakob smashing the window, that his record wasn't squeaky clean. And she could make things look very bad for him in court if told them that. I couldn't believe that after all those years, she would even think about letting that happen. After everything Frankito had done to us, she was still going to defend him.
"So" I said, "That's it, is it? You're going to tell the judge that Jakob was the bad guy? You're going to make out Frankito was the innocent victim?"
"No Joey" Ramona said, heading back towards the house, "I'm going to tell them the truth"
To be honest, I had no idea what the truth was. I had no idea what happened that night. I didn't believe Jakob went out intending to end Frankito's life. But why did he take a knife? Deep down inside me, I knew there was another side to Frankito. He was like us, frightened. Like us, his Dad was constantly plastered all over the newspapers. And it's a horrible feeling to wake up, not knowing if reporters are about to break the door down. It's a worse feeling, saying goodbye to your Dad, knowing that he'll be away for months. And that thousands, maybe millions of people will see him and be excited, when you're the one who needs him the most. I had experienced all that, so had Jakob, Stella and Ramona. But I think all of us forgot that Frankito was going through the same thing, he just dealt with it differently. While singing Platypus (I hate you) and looking at the stars gave us that sense that we weren't alone, Frankito got the same comfort from terrorising the neighbours. And he was the youngest of the lot of us; I think we all forgot that.
"Ramona" I said, "Jakob wanted me to tell you something. He wanted me to tell you that he's sorry"
I expected her to slam the door in my face then, but she turned around and collapsed against me. I didn't know what to do, so I just sort of stood there and let her cling to me for a few minutes. She didn't make a sound, but tears leaked from behind her closed eyes.
"I'm sorry Joey" she whispered, "I don't know what to do. I don't know what's right. I don't want Jakob to do to prison, and I definitely don't want him killed. It's awful, they keep them locked up until they're eighteen, then they move them somewhere else and they just wait to die. I don't want that to happen to Jakob, he's more like my brother than Frankito ever was"
I understood. She hated Jakob for what he'd done, but she didn't hate him enough to want him dead. I was sure Jakob felt the same way about Frankito, he hadn't meant to kill him"
"Is it wrong to lie in court" she asked me, "Or leave things out? They make you swear on the bible, don't they? Does it count as lying if you just don't tell the whole truth?"
Suddenly I knew exactly what to say.
"I think a little bit of Frankito would have wanted us to help Jakob" I said honestly, "Maybe he wanted to be his friend all these years, he just didn't know how to stop"
Ramona hugged me harder.
"Right" she said, wiping her face, "I'll tell the court how bad Frankito was to him, and we'll keep quiet about the window and the watch, okay. And I don't mind swearing on the bible, I don't think I believe in God"
"You don't" I asked
"No" she said, "If he existed, he'd have took care of Frankito. And Jakob"
I wasn't sure I believed either, but I'd never have had the guts to come out and say it. Ramona was always more open.
"What do you believe in then?" I said, "My Dad says he doesn't care if I believe in Satan, as long as I believe in something"
Ramona thought for a second.
"I believe in you" she said, "I believe that you, and me, and Laurie and Stella can do this. I believe that we can save Jakob, even if we have to lie to do it. My Gran says it's better to do the wrong thing for the right reasons, than the right thing for the wrong reasons."
That sort of made sense, in a way. It was better to lie to save somebody who, deep down, was innocent. Than to tell the truth because it was the easier thing to do.
In the end it didn't really matter.
Because on the 24th April 2013, we stood side by side in the courtroom, and we listened to my Uncle Tre tell the judge that my brother was a merciless murderer and should be stuck straight in the electric chair. And we listened to Stella say that Jakob wasn't violent, and she had no doubt Frankito had provoked him. I listened to my Dad tell the judge how badly hurt I was, and Frankito was the real criminal. And I watched Ramona, shivering, step up to the whiteness box and say, for the whole world to hear, that Frankito, her brother, was evil. She was gasping for breath she was sobbing so hard, but she told everyone about the years of torture Jakob was forced to endure. I thought such a lot of her then, and I knew Jakob did too. She had more courage than either of us. But like I said, it didn't make a difference.
Because on the 24th April 2013, Judge John Reilly reached a decision.
On the 24th April 2013, it was ruled that my brother Jakob, would be kept in solitary confinement until his eighteenth birthday.
And then a date would be set for his execution.
On the 24th April 2013, Jakob Danger Armstrong, was sentenced to death.
We're living in repetition
Content in the same old shtick again
Now the routine's turning to contention
Like a production line going over and over and over
Roller coaster
Now I cannot speak
I lost my voice
I'm speechless and redundant
Cause I love you's not enough
I'm lost for words
Why do half the songs have to take me back to those miserable times? I'm still listening to the old CDs, and remembering. Me and Jakob loved hearing them when we were little. We could never really sing, nothing like our Dad anyway, but it was still fun. My Uncle Mike used to get us to sing them at parties. It wasn't embarrassing, because we all knew the adults were so drunk, they'd have forgotten by the next morning. I don't want to go back to the days after Frankito's murder; I want to remember all the good times. Perhaps that will make today easier to bear. I want to remember Jakob as my baby brother, not the thin, cowering figure we saw a few months ago. He wouldn't talk, he wouldn't sing. He just looked at me, his sunken eyes begging me to make everything alright again. And I couldn't, I've tried. After we found my Mum, I thought I'd fall apart. But I didn't. I took care of my Dad, I visited Jakob, I spoke to reporters. It's amazing how you manage to hold in all those emotions for thirteen years, only for them to spill out in one night. I'm crying now, sobbing noisily under the dusty sheets. All the tears from when Jakob was arrested, and my Mum drowned. All the tears from when I was a kid, and my Dad was never there, away touring and all that, they're all spilling over. And I'm drowning in them, I can't breathe. Why did I have to give in to tears tonight? On the one night when all I want to do is remember. I didn't cry when they found the body in the lake, I didn't cry at Jakob's trial. So why am I crying now? Nothing's changed, people die every day. Only today I know who is going to die, and how it's going to happen. Look at it like that Joey, keep singing, don't give in again.
***
The days flashed past after my Mum died. The months leading up to Jakob's trial were a surreal blur of visitors. Everyone came over, my Gran, Uncle Mike, my Dad's mate Jason. Sometimes I wished they would clear off and let silence wash over me, then maybe I could sort my mind out before the trial. But I was thankful, because as long as there was a constant stream of visitors, the bottles of drink in the kitchen remained untouched. I knew my Dad was aching to go and pour the vile stuff down his neck, and let it cloud all the memories until he could sleep again. But I wouldn't let him. I don't know why, I kind of fancied a drink myself. I didn't though, I couldn't.
The night he found her body, my Dad turned all the family photographs to face the walls. He said he didn't want to look at them, but you weren't supposed to hide away pictures of your dead wife, or be so ashamed of your son that you couldn't look at him. I suppose it made perfect sense, but at the time it seemed ridiculous. I didn't want to see the back of the frames, the emptiness of the wood only reminded me of how empty the house had become. There was no chirpy little voice telling me jokes, nobody telling me to tidy my room. And much as I'd moaned about both, I'd have given anything to hear them again. It seemed everything we'd ever hoped for had crashed down around us. And the worst part was, we never saw Uncle Tre anymore, or Ramona. I knew Ramona hated Frankito, but she must have loved him deep down. Like when we were little, and Jakob had told our Mum my scam to get more Christmas presents. Those days seemed a whole eternity ago. Time after time I wanted to talk to Ramona, but I never dared. I thought she might slam the door in my face, or give me a good slap. And I knew I probably deserved it. I should have stopped him. But I'd promised Jakob I'd apologise for him, and I wanted to do it before the trial. Or I knew I never would.
"I'm going for a walk" I told my Dad. I don't think he heard me. He was curled up in a ball, his knees under his chin, on the sofa. Had he been more alert, the feeble 'walk' excuse would have made him cry. But he didn't even flinch. It was like a dagger in my heart though, and I was sobbing uncontrollably on the way to Tre's house. The papers had been saying he's become a drunk, that he couldn't look after himself, never mind Ramona. I didn't really want to find out if it was true. But before I knew it, I was standing in front of the familiar, oak door. I felt dead small standing there, knowing whatever happened; I wasn't going to be welcome. I wondered how quiet their house must have seemed, without Frankito's constant shouting and swearing and coming home with drunken friends.
"What do you want" Ramona snapped tearfully, "My Dad doesn't want any of you lot here"
I hadn't even noticed I'd knocked the door, or that it had been opened.
"I wanted to see you" I mumbled, "We're friends"
Her face softened slightly as she stepped outside.
"No we're not Joey" she said softly, "I know Frankito wasn't an angel, but he didn't deserve that. My Dad doesn't know what's happened; he didn't know half the stuff he got up to. Frankito was still my little brother, and I want to see his killer punished"
My throat tightened in fear. Ramona knew everything that had gone on, the five of us had no secrets. She knew about Jakob smashing the window, that his record wasn't squeaky clean. And she could make things look very bad for him in court if told them that. I couldn't believe that after all those years, she would even think about letting that happen. After everything Frankito had done to us, she was still going to defend him.
"So" I said, "That's it, is it? You're going to tell the judge that Jakob was the bad guy? You're going to make out Frankito was the innocent victim?"
"No Joey" Ramona said, heading back towards the house, "I'm going to tell them the truth"
To be honest, I had no idea what the truth was. I had no idea what happened that night. I didn't believe Jakob went out intending to end Frankito's life. But why did he take a knife? Deep down inside me, I knew there was another side to Frankito. He was like us, frightened. Like us, his Dad was constantly plastered all over the newspapers. And it's a horrible feeling to wake up, not knowing if reporters are about to break the door down. It's a worse feeling, saying goodbye to your Dad, knowing that he'll be away for months. And that thousands, maybe millions of people will see him and be excited, when you're the one who needs him the most. I had experienced all that, so had Jakob, Stella and Ramona. But I think all of us forgot that Frankito was going through the same thing, he just dealt with it differently. While singing Platypus (I hate you) and looking at the stars gave us that sense that we weren't alone, Frankito got the same comfort from terrorising the neighbours. And he was the youngest of the lot of us; I think we all forgot that.
"Ramona" I said, "Jakob wanted me to tell you something. He wanted me to tell you that he's sorry"
I expected her to slam the door in my face then, but she turned around and collapsed against me. I didn't know what to do, so I just sort of stood there and let her cling to me for a few minutes. She didn't make a sound, but tears leaked from behind her closed eyes.
"I'm sorry Joey" she whispered, "I don't know what to do. I don't know what's right. I don't want Jakob to do to prison, and I definitely don't want him killed. It's awful, they keep them locked up until they're eighteen, then they move them somewhere else and they just wait to die. I don't want that to happen to Jakob, he's more like my brother than Frankito ever was"
I understood. She hated Jakob for what he'd done, but she didn't hate him enough to want him dead. I was sure Jakob felt the same way about Frankito, he hadn't meant to kill him"
"Is it wrong to lie in court" she asked me, "Or leave things out? They make you swear on the bible, don't they? Does it count as lying if you just don't tell the whole truth?"
Suddenly I knew exactly what to say.
"I think a little bit of Frankito would have wanted us to help Jakob" I said honestly, "Maybe he wanted to be his friend all these years, he just didn't know how to stop"
Ramona hugged me harder.
"Right" she said, wiping her face, "I'll tell the court how bad Frankito was to him, and we'll keep quiet about the window and the watch, okay. And I don't mind swearing on the bible, I don't think I believe in God"
"You don't" I asked
"No" she said, "If he existed, he'd have took care of Frankito. And Jakob"
I wasn't sure I believed either, but I'd never have had the guts to come out and say it. Ramona was always more open.
"What do you believe in then?" I said, "My Dad says he doesn't care if I believe in Satan, as long as I believe in something"
Ramona thought for a second.
"I believe in you" she said, "I believe that you, and me, and Laurie and Stella can do this. I believe that we can save Jakob, even if we have to lie to do it. My Gran says it's better to do the wrong thing for the right reasons, than the right thing for the wrong reasons."
That sort of made sense, in a way. It was better to lie to save somebody who, deep down, was innocent. Than to tell the truth because it was the easier thing to do.
In the end it didn't really matter.
Because on the 24th April 2013, we stood side by side in the courtroom, and we listened to my Uncle Tre tell the judge that my brother was a merciless murderer and should be stuck straight in the electric chair. And we listened to Stella say that Jakob wasn't violent, and she had no doubt Frankito had provoked him. I listened to my Dad tell the judge how badly hurt I was, and Frankito was the real criminal. And I watched Ramona, shivering, step up to the whiteness box and say, for the whole world to hear, that Frankito, her brother, was evil. She was gasping for breath she was sobbing so hard, but she told everyone about the years of torture Jakob was forced to endure. I thought such a lot of her then, and I knew Jakob did too. She had more courage than either of us. But like I said, it didn't make a difference.
Because on the 24th April 2013, Judge John Reilly reached a decision.
On the 24th April 2013, it was ruled that my brother Jakob, would be kept in solitary confinement until his eighteenth birthday.
And then a date would be set for his execution.
On the 24th April 2013, Jakob Danger Armstrong, was sentenced to death.