Shatters and Love

all.

CHAPTER ONE

He opened the door to the fridge and poured milk into a glass. He had decided not to continue discussing the matter, considering the circumstances. He thought it would be wise to confirm the details first. He shut the door to the fridge gently and walked back to the dining table. The moment he pulled out a chair to sit down, he heard a knock on the door.

Come in, she said thinking it was their son coming back home. She had expected him to stay out much longer but it was safer having him in the house rather than out in the city which was becoming more and more dangerous with each passing day.

He remained standing, wondering how to introduce the subject once he walked in. He would inform the boy of their eternal support regardless. After all, what were parents for?

The doorknob turned quickly. The door opened and three men, one probably in his early 30s and looking already hardened by the world, while the other two much younger and looked like rich, spoilt brats who had no care in the world, filed in shutting it hurriedly behind them. As if on cue, they drew out guns one after the other.

The woman gasped. She considered yelling for help but thought it unwise. The man slowly put the glass on the dining table and leaned on the chair looking at the intruders expressionlessly.

One of the intruders cleared his throat to speak. Your son is involved in a business we find offending. Our frequent warnings have gone unheeded. Your son appears dangerously…. should I say, obstinate? He paused and looked at the man before turning to the woman. You are his parents, and probably care about him more than he does about himself. He must stay away from Hurlingham. Ensure that he does so, or it will cost him his life.

Visibly shaken the woman trembled as she watched the events unfold. Their son’s life was in danger. She wondered what he had been up to. How had he gotten involved with such a gang? It was not like him at all. However, his recent aloofness was worrying. Maybe, just maybe, he was losing his way. But he still remained their son. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

The man stared at the trio transfixed like a statue. Anger and disbelief surged through him. Noticing his changing facial expression, one of the intruders pointed the weapon at him. These guns are for real, not toys, and released the cartridge of his own gun dropping the bullets into his palm to prove it.

In a flash, the man ambushed in his own house, assumed that the weapon with bullets displayed was the only real gun, picked the dining chair he had been leaning on and hurled it at him.

Caught off guard, as the intruder fell back the instant the chair hit him and the man lunged forward at the fellow standing next to him. In panic, he raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet caught the man in the head. Their plan had gone awry.

She will identify us, the intruder who had been felled by the chair warned angrily. The dead man lay across him. He could not trust the man who had fired the shot to kill the woman. He was in shock and looked like he was frozen on the spot. He barked at the second intruder. Shoot her! What the hell are you waiting for? He then shoved the body off him and got up roaring the command again. Shoot her!

Obediently the other intruder raised his gun and looked at the woman regretfully. She stared back transfixed by fear. The bullet caught her right in the chest knocking her over.

The apparent commander bent down and picked the spent cartridges, gun and bullets from the floor. Let’s get going, he hissed as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and hastily wiped fingerprints from the doorknob on the inside and outside. You go first. Do not rouse the neighbours’ suspicions! He commanded, quickly and studiously looking at his friends. And run when I say so. He opened the door. The light from the house created shadows. He switched off the light and dusted the switch before stepping out. He wiped the doorknobs on the inside and outside once again as his friends hurried out of the house in fear but stood beside him outside it, seeming unable to think anymore. His steps were slow, eyes darting around, looking out for any disturbance to the tranquillity as he quietly walked to the parked vehicle. His partners stayed close to him in an unholy alliance not knowing what to do next.

Suddenly, a neighbour came running towards them. The sound of the gunshots must have caught his attention. Were those gunshots? He asked, tucking in his shirt as he anxiously looked at the trio. They did not answer. The neighbour stood still in alarm.

Sensing the danger of identification by the inquisitive neighbour, the bearded and slightly older man drew his gun and fired in the air, propelling the neighbour into motion and to quickly disappear behind a nearby house. The bearded man realized that they had to escape immediately or sacrifice everyone, including himself. He blamed his partners for the blunders, but it was too late. All he could do for now was to minimize the consequences.

That should keep the other neighbours in their houses for some time, the bearded man spoke as if talking to himself. Now is the time to run. If somebody comes after us we must separate but meet where we parked the car.

They all dashed towards the parked the car. The assigned driver fumbled with the keys anxious to escape, as the bearded partner surveyed the area. In panic the driver dropped the keys on the ground. The bearded fellow cursed loudly and rasped. Get a hold of yourself, and get us out of here! He feared that more pressure could only heighten their fear and worsen their precarious situation.

In the dark, he bent down to search for the keys and everyone followed suit. The man who had dropped the keys quickly found them near his feet. As the bearded man kept monitoring events in all directions, the other youth slid into the co-driver’s seat.

Drive, he spoke very calmly as if it was a routine drive. This was not his first criminal act and perhaps not the last. The younger men were still visibly shaken. Someone had to take the lead and get them out of there. Get the car moving, he nearly shouted at the driver but thought otherwise. It was obvious that the other two were under tremendous pressure since this was the first crime they had ever committed. On realizing that the driver was still fumbling with the keys, he decided to take charge. Get out. I will drive, he said and quickly got out of the back seat and opened the driver’s door, the designated driver stepped out quickly and rushed for the back seat without a word, and they zoomed off.

The bearded man grinned mirthlessly at his petrified companions. It was pretty obvious that he was the only composed one in the group. His companions were fidgeting and sweating in the chill of the night. They had no guts, perhaps murder was too much to handle. He looked at them with unveiled disgust. He had been involved in many criminal acts before, but had so far avoided killing people. He thanked the stars for not having been compelled to kill the innocent victims himself. His companions had all killed and the matter was their own problem. He was only sorry for those who had been killed and their families. You’ll have to get rid of that shirt before anybody notices those bloodstains. He told the one in the co-driver’s seat and then to both. And oh yes, dispose of all evidence that could lead to our identification.

The two companions grunted in agreement.

The bearded man then turned to the occupant of the back seat. Give me the money, his left hand shot out to the back as he steered the car with only his right hand. The man dropped a wallet onto the outstretched palm.

How do you expect me to get the money out of the wallet? he asked without looking behind. The wallet was quickly withdrawn, a wad of notes taken out and placed onto the outstretched palm.

We’re about to reach town, the bearded man announced. Where should we park? We need to decide what to do next.

Anywhere safe, the man in the co-driver’s seat spoke. Park near a busy pub, it will be easier to mingle without suspicion.

‘Suppose somebody notices us?" The tone and expression of fear of discovery came from the one at the back.

What’s your suggestion? the bearded man asked and not waiting for an answer added sarcastically. Do we drive to your home?

No! The man in back seat interjected sharply regretting having spoken. Home is the last place I want to be at this moment. We’ll go wherever you suggest.

The bearded man was busy trying to locate an open and convenient pub. They soon found one and parked the car. He fumbled in his pockets for a cigarette but found none. Anyone with a cigarette to spare?

Yeah, I’ve got some, said the one on the co-driver’s seat and offered one following it with a flaming lighter.

Can I have one too? requested the one at the rear. He was not a habitual smoker but thought a cigarette could ease his anxiety and confusion.

What do we do now? the bearded man asked and turned to look at his two companions.

I don’t know, the man at the back answered in a voice close to a whine. The fear, confusion, anger at his rival and the guilt he felt ever since they had planned to pass the warning to the rival engulfed him

What should we do now? the bearded one repeated the question, as he continued inhaling the cigarette heavily and started counting the money. He put the wad of notes he had been given into his pocket after returning the excess amount to his benefactor. We part here for the night but meet tomorrow to discuss what to do next. Of course that depends on what the police come up with. He then looked at them glaringly and harshly added. I hope that none of you is going to be dim-witted enough to talk to anyone about tonight unless you are planning to spend the rest of your life behind bars or be the hangman’s client.

The two grunted worriedly.

He hoped that they would keep their word, but did not completely trust them.

Pick on a place outside the city centre where we can meet and discuss with minimum interruption, especially from people who know you. He could not suggest going to his house since he did not trust his colleagues who appeared unstable and one little mistake could lead the investigators to him.

They both came from influential families that could easily make him the fall guy. He was tired of running and did not want to start all over again. He had picked on Nairobi as a town to settle in after leaving Mombasa in a hurry. He might have to change rooms or lodging houses to buy a little time in case anybody came after him for the crime they had committed. He felt like asking them for taxi fare but decided against it. To impress upon them that he was greedy or financially desperate would give them more leverage.

Pangani has a new restaurant which is not yet popular. I saw it the other day while driving on Juja Road, the man in the back seat suggested.

Any objections? the bearded man asked the one seated beside him.

None, he said after clearing his throat, as long as we can get a secluded table.

Isn’t it fortunate that tomorrow is a Saturday and none of you needs to go to work? The bearded man spoke with a mirthless smile. We should be there between 11.30 and noon. Is that okay? He did not know where Pangani was but would find his way without their help and also be there before them just to make sure that they had not been followed.

They all agreed to meet at that time.

He advised them to drink something if they had any difficulty sleeping and slid out of the car and into the night as if he had never been there. He wanted them to worry about whether he would turn up or not, that could make them more generous to gain his friendship, trust and experience.

CHAPTER TWO

He had felt uncomfortable throughout the outing. Rage and a strange fear had engulfed him all evening. He could have backed out but wanted to prove that he was no coward and that was something they would have to learn though trepidation is what they would have loved in him. There was his personal honour to think about. Besides, he did not want to let her down.

He boarded a bus and took the back seat. The vehicle was virtually empty. His mind wandered and he soon realized that he had reached his destination. He stood and rang the bell. When he got off the bus he saw lights on in all houses though his mind did not register the fact at first. The further he went into the housing estate and closer to their house the more he realized that most residents were still awake. Something was odd, he thought and looked at his watch. It was half past midnight and most residents were normally asleep at that time. A police car drove past him speedily towards the direction of his house. There must have been a robbery or shooting. The spate of criminal activities had increased causing an outcry from the general public on the inability of the police to maintain law and order, he thought as he walked faster. High unemployment levels amongst other reasons had discouraged most youths from pursuing education because it made little or no difference sometimes, leaving educated people without gainful employment and crime as the option to reap quickly and with a thrill that made them look, feel and be dreaded as tough. Outside their house he saw a crowd of people engaged in conversations with eyes fixed at the entrance. Some stood as if waiting to see what was going to come from inside. The police car that had driven past him was now parked outside their house with its roof light still flashing. His heart missed a beat. It all meant that something had happened in their home if not directly outside it. For a moment he stopped in his tracks and looked at the crowd and their house wondering what could have happened. He suddenly broke into a run towards the house. When he reached the crowd he pushed through it amidst complaints and curses. Some demanded to know who he thought he was pushing people aside when everybody wanted to get a better view. He ignored them, struggling and feeling like kicking through the human barrier.

"Hebu nipishe, let me through, he tried to shout in Swahili and English in a voice that was barely audible. Hapa ni nyumbani kwetu, this is my home." After breaking through the crowd he noticed a policeman standing at the entrance of his home.

The door was partly open. His throat suddenly went dry as he realized that something terrible must have happened there. He tried to walk hurriedly past the door, but the policeman grabbed his arm menacingly.

Where do you think you are going? He barked, thinking that he was one of those inquisitive neighbours or unwelcome informers.

This is my home, he explained in a barely audible voice over the loud murmurs from the crowd, as some individuals seemed to want to know what had happened while others tried to explain what they knew in voices loud enough to be heard above the noise.

Get back, young man! the policeman prepared to forcibly push him back. This is none of your business, get back.

I live here! He literally yelled in a pleading voice and swallowed hard to lubricate his dry throat. I live here and this is my parents’ house.

The policeman looked at him as if to confirm the claim. His face softened a little on noting the anxiety on Micker’s face. I am sorry, the policeman mumbled and added, the scene may be extremely distressing... anyway. You may go in if you want to.

Before the policeman finished talking, he was already pushing the door open. The scene stopped him in his tracks. His parents’ bodies lay sprawled on the floor.

One of the two policemen in the house straightened up from his position. They have not been dead too long, he reported to his colleague, while looking at the slowly flowing blood.

It gradually registered that his parents were dead. He noticed the blood that was slowly oozing from their bodies which lay lifeless on the floor. He did not want to believe that they were actually dead. He hoped that the policeman was wrong. He needed to believe that the pool of blood his parents were lying in was not real. Only thugs deserved that kind of fate as he had known.

The other policeman was looking around the house. It looks like nothing was taken from this room, although the furniture may have been overturned during the scuffle.

The other policeman did not respond to his colleague’s statement but walked over to the dining table and stood looking at the unfinished glass of milk. One of the victims was having a glass of milk but looks like he was not even given an opportunity to finish it, he said jokingly. He sounded so impersonal, devoid of human feelings, but these were scenes he witnessed too often.

He suddenly turned around on sensing another presence in the room. And who is this here, a supervisor of the investigations?

Looks like he is part of the family, the other policeman answered.

Tears began to flow on hearing the remark. He struggled with the incomprehensible, unable to accept what had happened and hoping that it was a nightmare that he would soon wake up from. He remained standing at the doorway, unable to enter the house.

The 15-year old boy who had been seated on the sofa sobbing quietly stood up. His sobs grew louder as he walked towards his older brother.

At that moment Micker wished he had been an only child. He did not want his younger brother to have to go through the suffering. He would be forced to grow up without parental love. From them he had learnt enough to be able to take care of himself, but his younger brother’s opportunity had been cut short by the tragedy. It would be quite difficult for his brother growing up without parents to guide him through his successes and failures in life. His heart gave a more painful jolt when his eyes strayed back to the sprawled bodies. The tears that he had been trying to hold back now streamed down his cheeks uncontrollably. The killings and the consequences had registered in his mind. He subconsciously opened his arms to his younger brother who was reaching out to him.

What happened? he asked amid sobs. The two clung to each other and sobbed. Their grief appeared to have peaked on realizing the gravity of their loss. Their parents had been an umbrella that had protected them from uncertainty and loneliness but had lost them when they still needed them.

The policeman who had been out in the car came into the house and looked at the two brothers empathetically. He looked like he wanted to say something but could not find anything appropriate and instead walked over to his colleagues.

The Land Rover coming to pick the bodies is on its way here now, he said sighing loudly. The other two policemen looked at their watches in unison. It had been a very long and grisly night for them.

The Land Rover soon arrived and as the door opened, two more policemen entered with a stretcher and gloves. They lifted the bodies one at a time and without care and humane feeling and placed them on the stretcher and took them out.

The activities were so heart wrenching that Micker had to look away and shield his younger brother from witnessing it. He uttered a silent prayer as he suppressed the urge to scream at the policemen who were lifting the bodies and placing them on the stretcher. Their grief rose after the bodies had been taken out. The sight of the vehicle leaving the compound was a confirmation that their parents had actually died.

Neighbours now freely came in pouring their condolences. Micker wondered whether the murderers had been robbers who had taken off before stealing anything, fearing that they would be caught in the act according to one of the policemen. Would the murders have been committed by enemies? Did his parents have any? Or were the perpetrators simply doing this to cause panic in the neighbourhood? But why had they picked on their house? The questions in his mind were endless. It was and could still be a time of misfortunes for him and the brother, though he wished his brother could be spared as he was too young to reasonably comprehend, accept or do anything about. He had recently lost his job because of some small-minded persons but had luckily found another immediately and now he had lost his parents who were irreplaceable. The memories of the times they shared sitting, eating and talking together as the closely-knit family would still continue had it not been for cruel death. Their deaths had brought about a heavy responsibility, appointing him a lead sole companion and parent. He was unconfident about playing the role successfully, but had no choice and did not mind it but was afraid of failure.

He hoped that the murderers would be found and brought to book even though he understood that justice would not bring his parents back. Had it been in his power, he would have personally tracked down the killers and ensured that they paid for their crime but did not know where to begin. His mind went back to the lifeless bodies of their parents and tears streamed down his cheeks unchecked.

What happened? he asked wondering if it was an appropriate time to talk. Did you see or hear anything, Dod?

The boy subconsciously tightened his grip on his elder brother’s hand. I woke up as soon as I heard the sound of the gunshots. I then heard footsteps slowly fading away. I am not sure where the shots came from. When I ran from my bed to peep through the curtains, I saw three men walking away quietly, and then later heard another shot. I ran to Mom and Dad’s room but they were not there and then ran here calling out to them. I stumbled on them and fell as I ran to switch on the light. It was then that I realized that it was they lying on the floor, dead. The boy sobbed and asked. Why were they killed, Micker?

The elder brother felt more tears run down his cheeks. He did not have an answer. Perhaps, he said thinking about the many unsolved murders, only the police can ever find out those who were involved and why.

CHAPTER THREE

The room was small and congested. It would have been a lot more comfortable with a single chair and table but was crowded with four chairs and two tables. The depressing atmosphere reflected the group’s mood. Something was definitely wrong somewhere and reasons were numerous that one could only guess. The culture of fear or perhaps being the next beneficiary made those who could change the situation not lift a finger. Those expected to work in those conditions avoided overt complaints. It was not surprising that their morale was so poor and they only worked to earn a living as they struggled to maintain a little order.

Micker, his brother Dodwell and seven other witnesses were sitting on the bench waiting to be called in the room to record their statements. One of the seven other witnesses was there not only to state what had happened but also to brag about his experience, reliability and his being a better citizen. The witness also appeared to grieve more than the bereaved to the point of annoyance. He talked about others making life difficult for others by killing their parents. Micker found it difficult to be near him and maintain some semblance of sanity. As an adult he felt he could handle it better than Dodwell who was sharing the same bench with him and the chatterbox eyewitness while other witnesses sat on the bench outside the office for lack of room. He changed positions with his brother to save the young boy from a little of the insensitive and unnecessary comments and also give a cue that the talk was not doing them much good. His change in sitting position was mistaken by the excessively excited eyewitness as a show of interest.

They killed your parents leaving you orphans, the chatterbox witness blubbered on and when he noticed Micker’s empty stare added. So cruel, especially for people as young as yourselves, your parents also died young, they had more to contribute to the nation, he paused and looked around, all of a sudden the grieving turned into psychotic pride, he had courageously come out when heard the gunshots while the whole neighbourhood was either dead or playing possum.

Where is Sergeant Njururi? One of the police officers seated around the small table asked his colleague and grinned. With this kind of entertainment I find it very difficult to concentrate on my work.

Sergeant Njururi entered the office and sat down with a sigh. Who are the witnesses to the Ayany murders?

Immediately the chatterbox witness raised his hand stating he was there after which the policeman asked. Were you the only eyewitness?

No, but I can state for the few others, the eyewitness answered proudly ignoring other witnesses, nowadays one can hardly expect any witnesses to come forward to testify with the fear of attending court for a couple of years involving uncompensated expenses or face retribution from the criminals. Only those who believe in justice and have the nation at heart can ever bother to. The more human ones…

What is your name? Sergeant Njururi cut in calmly.

Silvan Matai, the witness answered and blabbered on about having been nearly shot.

Let’s talk about what you saw last night and please stick to the point.

I don’t keep a weapon in my house and I didn’t want to take the law into my own hands.... He noticed that the policeman had stopped writing a while back. Want me to repeat that, did you miss something?

The policeman looked at him admonishingly but did not say a word. From experience he had learnt that incoherent chatter often yielded unexpected clues.

The witness continued explaining all that happened, from how he opened the door of his house to meeting three men who did not respond to his query but just shot at him as if he was a dangerous criminal on the run.

Did you get a good look at them?

The eyewitness looked around the room before saying, Not properly! I could not risk it. It took time before I left my cover. To cover his loss of pride added. "Never expose yourself to enemy fire unless you’re tired of living! I then went to the victims’ house and knocked on the door, but there was no response, even after shouting out that I wasn’t one of the gangsters. I then opened the door, which wasn’t locked, only to be met by the sight of dead bodies when I took a step inside. I ran out of the house fearing that I would be the suspect killer.

What else did you witness?

Nothing, else unless you want me to repeat anything you may have missed.

Any other witness? the policeman asked, feeling exhausted. The second witness stated that he had seen three men running away a few minutes after the shots had been fired. Most witnesses recounted the same story. Dodwell also recounted all that he had seen and heard.

At the reporting desk a newspaper reporter was engaged in a heated argument with the officer on duty. He wanted to talk to the witnesses.

We don’t let in people who are likely to interfere with the witnesses. If you want to help, investigate on your own and remember to share pertinent information with us, then publish it and testify when the matter comes to court.

Micker and Dodwell then left the police station for home.

***

Several people had called to offer condolences and find out what had happened the previous evening. Having to answer questions over and over again about the whole matter was very distressing, but Micker knew he had to be polite. What they needed most was to rest and clean the house.

Micker was exhausted, pained and confused. He had never thought that he would lose his parents prematurely under such tragic circumstances. I’ll join you later after cleaning up the sitting room, he said and walked out of the bedroom shutting the door behind him.

As he fetched water and a mop, he found himself sobbing incessantly. He could not do it. However the dread of blood on the floor to remind them of the killings made him continue cleaning. Shortly, an aunt and a cousin came and they cleaned the whole house thoroughly and prepared some food. There was very little conversation but it was comforting to know that there was an extended family to lean on in case they felt overwhelmed.

At 3.00 p.m. there was a knock on the door. He was exhausted and was in no position to handle more friends and relatives who had been streaming into the house to express their sympathies. However, he could not turn them away. It was a news reporter from the homicide section of a leading local daily. The reporter assured him that his interview and story would be used to awaken those who were supposed to act and guarantee security. They chatted for a long time and discussed many other things.

***

Julienne had read about the murders in the newspapers but did not suspect that her boyfriend’s parents were the victims. The killings taking place in the same neighbourhood was worrying enough. She had tried to call Micker but his phone was off. Her anxiety increased when he failed to call in the late afternoon and she decided to drive to their home. She had gone straight to bed after their date the night before. He had not called her as he usually did to find out if she had arrived home safely. She just thought he might have been too tired. When she reached Micker’s neighbourhood she parked the car a couple of metres away from the house and walked past it hoping that she would meet somebody near their house and ask for him, thinking it inappropriate going there uninvited.

Walking past the house, she noticed that the grass and flowers had been trampled upon recently. Her heartbeat quickened. There were footprints all over the three neighbouring lawns although most of them seemed to be in Micker’s compound. She stopped in her tracks. People walking past talked while pointing at the house. Something was not right. Anxious, she gathered courage, walked up to the front door and knocked.

Come in, someone answered quietly.

The sound was almost inaudible but she was impatient to find out what could have happened and hurriedly opened the door. The first thing she saw was Micker seated and staring into space with his back towards the door, and the palms of his hands supporting his head. She knew beyond doubt that the reported tragedy had befallen them. The sorrowful