Vigilantes

When Billie Joe Armstrong found her body, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, and, for a fleeting second, hoped she was dead. No one, not one single person, should have to live through such pain, such agony. He hoped she had died before the bastard sliced her up and kicked her around. Lastly, he hoped she had been dead before he raped her. The massive amount of drying blood pooled near her inner thighs and the torn panties mangled around her left ankle was enough of an indication that the girl had not only been ravaged by some monster, but fucking violated in every sense of the word. There was sufficient evidence of sodomy as well.

Before he knew it, Billie Joe was vomiting onto the sidewalk, tears flooding his cheeks and smearing his eyeliner. Ironically, he almost hadn’t even bothered to put the shit on this morning. Unfortunately, he had, leaving him a sobbing, pathetic mess on the ground near the girl’s body. What bothered him the most wasn’t the means by which this girl had been brutalized...and it wasn't her age, either. The single thing Billie couldn’t get out of his mind was that he knew her. In fact, he’d just flipped shit at his older son, Joey, for sneaking out the previous night to have sex with this girl, which, in turn, had given his son an embarrassing social disease. The girl and his son’s midnight escapade was the sole reason why Billie was walking aimlessly for three hours. His initial thought was that this walk would clear his head and make sense of his son now being a hormone-driven teenager. Instead…he was forcibly confronted with the horror of every sadistic rapist’s darkest fantasy.

This broken, bleeding body was his son’s new girlfriend.

“Scarlett,” he whispered, finally brought to his senses enough to snatch the cell phone from his pocket and dial 911.

“911, what is your emergency?” a dull, bored voice droned on the other line, as if this particular call was an incredible inconvenience.

“A…a girl’s been attacked,” Billie stammered, still dumbstruck from shock.

“Sir, do you know this girl?” Strange how the woman’s voice became instantly intrigued at the aspect of a girl in distress
.
“Yes, her name is Scarlett Novaczek…she’s fourteen and I dunno if she’s still alive…”

“What condition does she appear to be in, sir?”

“I just fucking told you, she looks dead,” Billie snapped, his patience running dangerously thin. This pathetic excuse of a conversation is taking minutes off of this girl’s life…if she’s still even alive.

“Right. What is your name and location?”

Billie told her his name and the street he was on, but all he received was an unimpressed snort from the woman on the other line.

“Billie Joe Armstrong? That’s a good one…”

Billie could imagine this woman rolling her eyes at her cozy little desk, thinking it absolutely impossible for famous musicians to be capable of making 911 calls. He’d love to see the look on her face when she finds out it’s for real…she’d probably shit her pants for being so short with him.

“Just send a fucking ambulance out here in case this girl’s still breathing, or do you want her blood on your hands?”

There was a pause on the other end while the woman composed herself enough to answer promptly, “An ambulance and the police should be there shortly, Mr…Armstrong.”

Billie angrily slammed his phone to the ground upon hanging up, infuriated with how rude the woman was and how helpless he suddenly felt. All he could do was sit there, trying desperately not to look in Scarlett’s direction, and wait for the saviors to arrive.

***

As if finding a mutilated body wasn’t bad enough, finding yourself handcuffed in the back of a police car accused of committing said crime was so much worse for Mr. Armstrong. He already felt guilty for wishing this girl dead, out loud, only hours before finding that the girl had just about reached that destination…so throwing the accusation at him was enough to send him over the edge. Not only will he be scrupulously questioned by two of Oakland’s finest, but he will also have to spend the night in the prison psych ward, guilty or not.

After the scene he made prior to being arrested, Billie thought it best to allow himself to be led into the interrogation room instead of being dragged there kicking and screaming. He believed it would make him look less like a guilty man and more like a man who will cooperate in any way, shape, or form to help in finding Scarlett’s rapist. Unfortunately, though, the detectives simply brushed his sudden cooperation off after being played so many times before by countless criminals. The older detective motioned for Billie to sit at the table in the interrogation room, his arms immediately crossing over his chest. Perhaps this detective is suffering from an untimely case if tunnel-vision, for he looks dead-set at locking Billie up for this crime…or worse, putting the needle in his vein if Scarlett happened to die in the hospital.

“So, Mr. Armstrong. Care to share what the hell you got yourself into?” the younger detective growled, his brows furrowed in disgust. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?

“Nothing. All I did was find Scarlett’s body,” Billie replied weakly, knowing this wouldn’t be over anytime soon.

“Right, right. Of course you had nothing to do with this,” the older detective sneered as the younger circled around the table so that his face was inches from Billie’s.

“Do tell us once more the reason why you were out walking. Detective Leone and I find this very fascinating.”

Billie swallowed the lump out of his throat before he proceeded to explain, in detail, the fight with his son.

“My son snuck out last night to be with Scarlett. I didn’t know it until he decided to inform me of needing to go to the doctor because his girlfriend had gonorrhea and didn’t bother to tell him until after she fucked him. So I yelled at him for being a dumbass, and…” Billie suddenly couldn’t bring himself to admit what he’d said about Scarlett. It was incriminating as well as embarrassing.

“Oh, please continue. This is my favorite part,” Detective Morano insisted, eyes never leaving Billie’s.

“I told my son that if Scarlett touched him again, I’d kill her.”