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The following new item is from the New York Times and is, sadly,
true.
Killers of British Toddler to Be Freed
By Sarah Lyall
LONDON, June 22 - Two of Britain's most notorious criminals, who
as children horrified the nation by torturing and beating a 2-
year-old to death, are to be released from custody and sent into
society with new identities aimed at concealing their pasts, the
government said today.
The decision comes eight years after the pair, Jon Venables and
Robert Thompson, now 18, abducted James Bulger from a shopping
center in suburban Liverpool.
***
What follows is my reaction. I only wish that Venables and
Thompson were getting the sort of justice described. I don't
believe in the death penalty except for extreme cases -- which
these two are, I admit -- but I do believe in justice.
(For the record, I thought Tim McVey should have been driven out
into the middle of the Oklahoma desert in a panel truck. Then he
gets to sit there inside the truck, fully conscious but unable to
move, while he watches a timer tick down for sixty minutes to
zero before setting off 400 pounds of fertilizer-based explosive
that's inside the truck with him.
If they couldn't do that, then after death by lethal injection
and cremation, his ashes should have been disposed of the way he
deserved, not the way he wanted. I'm sure they have some very
nice flush toilets in the prison.)
***
Release
By Ellie Dauber
(c) 2001
June 24, 2001
"Mr. Merrick?" Thom Merrick looked up. A short, rather stocky
blonde woman was standing by his desk, looking very unhappy. "I'm
Esther Lytle. I was told you're the man I have to see about my
complaint."
"Lytle? Oh, yes, Mrs. Lytle, please have a seat." He pointed to a
chair. When she sat, he pulled a folder from the file of papers
on his desk. "Ah, yes, you're Timothy's mother. Before we begin,
Mrs. Lytle, may I say that I am sorry about your loss."
"Sorry! Sorry you say. If you're so sorry, then why are you - the
whole lot of you - letting those little bastards go free. They...
they raped and killed my Emma, and you're... you're letting them
go free." She put her head down in her hands and began to cry.
Thom pulled some Kleenex from the box on his desk. "Mrs. Lytle,
please. It isn't the way you think."
He handed her the Kleenex and she began to wipe hr eyes with one.
"It's not? How can you say that? Those two boys were only in jail
for eight years for... for what they did. Now -- now th-they're
getting out. You p-people aren't jus-just letting them out. You -
- you're giving them new identities, new...lives, so they won't
be b-bothered. They ra-raped and kuh-killed, those boys did. My
Emma, my... poor... Emma, whuh-whuh-where's her new... new life?
Tell me th-that if you can."
Thom stood and offered a hand to the sobbing woman. "Mrs. Lytle,
please, please come with me. I think I can show you something
that you'd like to see."
Mrs. Lytle took his hand and rose slowly to her feet. They walked
out of his cubicle and down a long hallway. She looked around for
a hint of where they were going, but there was nothing on the
pale gray wall to give even the vaguest clue. "Where are we..."
she asked at one point. Merrick didn't answer. He just kept
walking, though he did pat her hand as if to reassure her.
Finally, they came to a pair of doors. The sign over one said
"Special Release Programme Area." The sign over the other said
"Observation Room." Merrick pulled out a set of keys and used one
to open the second door. He held it while Mrs. Merrick walked
through, and then followed her into the room.
The room was small and poorly lit. A half dozen chairs faced a
curtain at the far side. Merrick sat down and motioned for Mrs.
Merrick to join him.
"I was rather hoping that we would be able to show you this. I
have to go in the other room in a moment, so please let me
explain. There's a one-way mirror behind that curtain. We keep
this room dark to add to the effect. They won't be able to see
you in here. Oh, they shan't be able to hear you either. The room
is quite soundproof. The door locks automatically, by the way; so
don't waste time trying to get closer. Just sit in here. I think
you'll enjoy the show."
As he finished, there was the sound of a motor. Mrs. Lytle turned
to see the curtain opening. The view was of a sparsely decorated
office, a table and a few chairs. There were a couple of young
men in rather old-fashioned looking blue suits sitting by the
table. Mrs. Merrick suddenly realized who the men were.
"It's them! Those are the bastards that killed my Emma!" She
looked to where Merrick had been sitting, but he was gone. She
was alone in the room.
She saw Merrick walk into the other room and take a seat at the
desk. "Victor Johnson, Roland Spekes." The two men nodded. "I'm
Thom Merrick," came the voice from a speaker. "I've been assigned
to handle your case."
"Yeah, yeah," Spekes said. In his eight years in jail, he had
grown from a chunky little boy to a rather stout young man. The
prison suit was tight on him, and he kept pulling at his shirt
collar. "You're the one whut's gonna give us new identities now
that we done our time for that kid."
"Yeah, get on with it," Johnson said. He was a tall, thin man
with a shock of red haircut into a long strip over the top of his
head like some kind of Wild West Indian. "We got people to see
and things to do. We wasted enough time."
Merrick opened a folder on the desk. "I'm required to ask if
either of you feel any sense of contrition for what you have
done."
"Yeah," Johnson said. "I'm sorry; I'm real sorry -- that we got
caught."
"Bloody hell, man, we was only twelve years old ourselves. We
didn't know any better. Next time, we'll do it better, and
they'll never find the body." Spekes began to laugh.
Mrs. Lytle gripped the arms of her chair. Her teeth were
clenched, her knuckles white. How could Merrick -- how could
anyone let animals like that go."
"Very well, then," Merrick said. "Do you freely accept the new
lives that you are to be given?"
"We do," Spekes said. "Anything's got to be better than what we
got now. Hey, just how much money is the government gonna be
giving us?"
"Yeah," Johnson said, "and are we gonna get sent to Australia
like it said in the paper?"
"No, actually, you'll be staying right here in this part of
England." Merrick stood and made some sort of odd gesture. A
glowing ball of pale blue energy formed around the two men. They
fought it for a moment, and then froze in position, unable to
move.
As Mrs. Merrick watched, the men's hair grew rapidly out until it
fell in waves over their shoulders. Their features became less
harsh, their noses smaller, their lips fuller.
Spekes seemed to lose all his excess weight, while Johnson filled
out slightly. Then both men grew thinner, smaller. They were
shrinking -- no, they were growing younger, aging backward into
their teens. There was more of a youthful look to them. Their
suits seemed to shrink with them, so that the clothes continued
to fit. In a few moments, they looked like two mid form boys,
each about twelve, dressed as if for Sunday church.
Then things began to get interesting.
The boys' long hair plaited itself into pigtails. Their pants
fused together, and the cloth moved up their legs to turn into a
pair of skirts that stopped a bit above the knee. Their socks
rose up after the skirts, changing into ivory hose. Their jackets
both lost their sleeves, and then merged with the skirts. The
pair were now wearing identical blue jumpers with white blouses
beneath.
Mrs. Merrick put her hand to her mouth in amazement. Both men now
looked much like -- like her Emma. In their new outfits, she
could see that they even had the beginnings of feminine figures.
There was a pleasant curve to their legs, and -- she giggled at
the thought -- just the hint of breasts beneath those jumpers.
Why, they even seemed to have a bit of make-up, lip gloss and
light blush on their faces.
A second door opened in the other room, and a woman in a pale
green nurse's uniform came in. She was an older woman with
graying hair done up in a bun. "Are these the girls," she asked
Merrick.
"Yes, they are, Matron. Girls, this is Mrs. Welsh from the
Lancashire Home For Girls. You'll be living there for the next
few years, so please introduce yourselves to her."
Mrs. Merrick was astounded to see the transformed men curtsy
politely. "I'm Vikki Smith," the one who had been Victor Johnson
said, "and this is my sister, Rona. We're very pleased to meet
you, Mrs. Welsh."
"And it's always a pleasure to meet such well-mannered young
ladies. Now, I've got your clothes and such in our van, so say
goodbye to Mr. Merrick, and we can be on our way."
"Goodbye, Vikki, Rona," Merrick said. "Do try to behave better
this time." He sat smiling until the three had left, then
rejoined Mrs. Lytle.
"Do -- do they remember who they are -- who they were?" she
asked.
"Of course, they do. They just can't tell anyone else about it.
In time, they should grow used to their new identities, but it
will be a slow transition. That's part of the punishment as it
were."
"And they're really girls?"
"They're as female as you are, Mrs. Lytle. I believe that you
could see their figures in the clothes they were wearing. They
should have their first periods in the next two or three months.
In a couple of years, they'll look like every teenage boy's
dream. In fact, by that time, they should be dreaming about boys
themselves, maybe even doing something about it."
"It doesn't bring back my Emma, Mr. Merrick, but I think that
she's resting a lot easier now."
"I hope so, Mrs. Lytle. What those boys did to her was horrible -
- I've a daughter myself -- and this seems like a proper sort of
justice for her." He paused. "You understand that you can't tell
anyone about what you saw here?"
"I'm sorry about that -- I'd like to shout the news to the world,
but I can understand why you want this kept a secret. You shan''
be hearing from me again, Mr. Merrick."
"One never knows, Mrs. Lytle. Now, may I see you to the door?"
***
October 6, 2011
Thom Merrick looked up from his file at the two women standing
before him. They'd been arrested and spent two years in jail on
multiple counts of grand theft. They would pretend their speeder
had broken down, and then rob any man who stopped to try and help
them.
"Vikki and Rona Smith, formerly Victor Johnson and Roland Spekes,
do you freely accept the identities you are to be given here this
day?"
Esther Lytle watched from inside the darkened Observation Room as
the two girls shrank down, aging backwards through puberty to the
age of ten. "And the state will keep giving you new identities,
girls, new lives until you get them right."
The End
Tammi
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