Vigilantes

Billie massaged his temples, fingers intertwining with his jet black hair as they traced small circles on his aching skull. Everything that happened within the past two weeks emotionally crippled the small man so significantly, leaving him a panicky, unstable mess. No longer did he acquire a sensible amount of self confidence or livelihood. The heart of his livelihood stopped beating with Adrienne’s, and his self confidence was ripped to shreds by Mike’s violent impulses. Once again, Billie found himself questioning his ability to go through this alone as Detective Leone returned to the interrogation room, this time accompanied by his partner. The somber air that filled the room upon their entrance was enough to convince Billie that their knowledge was unpleasant.

“I’m afraid your wife’s rape will have to remain unpunished in the eyes of the law, Billie. There is a statute of limitations on rape, and your wife is no longer alive…I’m so sorry,” Detective Leone commenced miserably as a small part of Billie’s sanity snapped.

“Neither of Mike’s ex-wives is willing to make statements against him, either. They want nothing to do with him…so I’m afraid a confession alone isn’t sufficient enough to convict Mike of those atrocities if this all goes to court,” Morano added, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

“And without your son’s conscious corroboration of Mike’s sexual abuse, he may get away with that as well. All we have him for, with solid evidence, is your rape and your son’s attempted murder.”

“Bastard’s going to get away with it,” Billie heard himself whispering, appalled at himself for the sudden cloud of resentment towards Mike that insisted upon hovering around his heart.

A pessimistic silence filled the interrogation room as the three men inside wallowed in their own versions of abysmal defeat. For Billie, it was a ghastly realization that Mike’s arrest would be in vain that metaphorically brought him to his knees. If Mike was acquitted of all charges, he would never receive the help he truly needs. For the detectives, the sheer inkling that yet another guilty man was slipping through the cracks of the law tore them apart. It was all too much, and before they could realize what was happening, Morano and Leone had allowed themselves to become dangerously close to this case. No matter the outcome, both police officers would be haunted by it for months afterward and plagued with innumerable sleepless nights.

As Leone began to approach Billie in an effort to console him, a rapid knocking at the interrogation door interrupted his intentions. He glanced at the door as Morano, being the one standing closest to it, opened it and spoke hurriedly with the stranger on the other side. His eyes darkened almost immediately as he accepted a bundle of paperwork from the stranger.

“It’s official; our psychologist confirmed that Mike Dirnt has IED,” Morano sighed, handing paperwork to his partner.

“Intermittent explosive disorder?” Leone read from one of the papers, glancing up at Morano in disbelief.

“According to the shrink, the man was a ticking time bomb. His explosions were inevitable,” Morano explained helplessly, shrugging his shoulders.

“This sounds like a load of bullshit to me,” Leone growled, now glaring down at the paperwork in horrified disbelief.

“Medically backed bullshit, mind you. It’s enough to convince a jury that it wasn’t his fault.”

Wide-eyed, Leone turned to Billie and declared, “You were right…the bastard’s going to get away with it.”

***

“Jesus fucking Christ…what did you do, Mike? Set off a fucking bomb in here?!” a much younger Billie Joe shrieked at his best friend, gawking at the unsettling chaos that surrounded him. He had destroyed everything he could get his hands on inside of his hotel room.

“I…uh, I dunno. I was pissed,” Mike replied self-consciously, his face becoming crimson with shame.

Tre Cool bounded through the hallway upon hearing Billie’s sudden cries and peered over his shoulder. He too was stunned by the state of Mike’s room.

“Shit, Mike, I’m impressed. Why didn’t you let me in on this?!” Tre demanded, feigning outrage.

“Shut the fuck up, Tre, don’t encourage him. We’re gonna have to pay for the damage and we’ll probably get out asses thrown out of the hotel. We can’t deal with that right now, we have a show tonight!” Billie raved, his chest growing tight with panic. He’d never seen Mike act like this and couldn’t even come close to fathoming what possibly drove him to destroy his hotel room.

“I know, I know…fuck, I don’t know why I did this,” Mike spluttered, his eyes travelling from broken object to broken object, knowing exactly why he’d destroyed the room. The bassist was simply too shy to admit it; he was in love with his best friend. Billie didn’t love him back…not in the way that he dreamed of.

“Let’s not get our panties in a bunch, ladies, let’s just go on with the show like nothing happened. Then after, we’ll blame our drunken after-party festivities on the damage. Sound like a plan?” Tre offered.

Billie was quiet for a while, biting his lip as he mulled over Tre’s plan. After a few moments, he couldn’t deny that it was the best possible option.

“Fine. Mike…try to refrain from annihilating anything else throughout the rest of this tour,” Billie sighed as he turned to leave the distressed man behind.

***

Billie cautiously entered the cell used to interrogate inmates, fear causing goose bumps to appear up and down his arms. He shivered, hugging himself, as Morano and Leone led him into the cell where a temporary prisoner of the psych ward sat solemnly. The ADA was still wary of dropping her case against Mike given the slight chance that he would be tried before an unsympathetic jury. In fact, Ms. Winters didn’t even want to make a deal with Mike’s attorney to have him sent to a place where his psychological examination could be completed more thoroughly, and if they were lucky, he could even be rehabilitated. Oh no, the ADA was out for blood. She wanted to make damn sure that Mike Dirnt rotted in a jail cell, with the general population of the prison, for as long as possible.

Billie Joe Armstrong was just as dead set against Mike rotting in that jail cell, despite his impermanent antipathy towards him.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Mike spoke softly, not bringing his eyes off of his hands.

“I had to, Mike. It makes sense,” Billie murmured, advancing gradually nearer to the man he couldn’t help but still be in love with.

“What does?” Mike inquired, bewildered.

“IED. It makes sense to me now. How easily pissed off you used to get…I thought it went away after a while, but I guess it just got worse. I’m sorry for not seeing it before,” Billie explained, shocking himself with the words that spewed from his mouth. He was caving in, apologizing, for something he couldn’t have possibly foreseen.

Mike laughed bitterly, humorlessly. He briefly brought his gaze to meet Billie’s, but immediately looked away once more. It was like the incident so many years ago involving a virtually demolished hotel room as Mike’s remorse consumed him. To Billie, he appeared genuinely distraught by his actions over the course of his adult years and ashamed that he was mentally ill.

“So I’ll be locked in a mental institution for God knows how long when I deserve to be in jail. Doesn’t make much sense to me,” Mike declared cynically.

“They’ll actually be able to help you there, Mike! Besides…do you know what happens to rapists in prison? Let alone child rapists?”

Mike shuddered, for he did indeed have an inkling as to what the other inmates would do to him.

“Maybe I deserve it,” he whispered, “for…for what I did to you. You can’t tell me you’re not angry about that.”

“I’m not anymore, Mike, you have an illness.”

The detectives witnessing this conversation couldn’t believe what they were hearing. They’d spoken with an alarmingly broken up Billie just hours prior, and now he seems to have completely forgiven Mike for everything he’s done. Their confusion only escalated when a teary-eyed Billie gently kissed the top of Mike’s head before he voiced his final decision on Mike’s fate.

“He doesn’t deserve to go to jail,” Billie announced firmly.